Read This To Get Any Further Information Regarding Both My Blog And Wy Writing
Aright so basically, I enjoy writing fan fiction so feel free to send in any requests/ideas
However, if I am unable to respond immediately to your request, please try to be patient as it may take me a bit to finish each piece of writing
Furthermore, I will post about once a week, but probably no more than that. If I post too much or run out of fan fictions to publish too quickly, I will most likely experience burn out
Therefore, I often finish pieces in advance and wait for the next week to arrive before I post, incase I run out of both time and energy
Themes I Will Write About
• Smut
• Fluff
• Angst
• If you are unsure if your request qualifies as one of these topics, still feel free to send in a request and I will see what I can do for you
Themes I Will Not Write About
• Racism
• Incests
• Anything inappropriate involving minors
• Genuine abuse (however, keep in mind that I might include subjects such as domination or humiliation within a nsfw setting, but it will never been something that I romanticize or write about in any other manner)
• Again, if you are unsure if your request qualifies as one of these, still feel free to send in a request and I will see what I can do for you
Fandoms I Will Write For
• The Walking Dead (okay confession: I haven't finished TWD yet, Im only on season eight, episode fourteen. So yeah, please keep in mind that I might not know every character just yet)
• Limp Bizkit
• System Of A Down
• GTA5
• Red Dead Redemption 2
• The Outlast Trials
Additional Notes
Thank you so much for understanding my boundaries
At the start of each of my posts, I will always include warnings regarding the possibly upsetting content within my writing, so please keep an eye out for those
Anyway, if you wish to check out more of my writing, here is my master list
idk i saw a request post and am just fealing it rn so what if fred durst x fem reader and hes like idk givin head to her , idk bro lol
🙏
Not So Bad
Pairing: Fred Durst x female reader
Era: 1997 (early Limp Bizkit)
Summary: After the bands first album gained popularity, Fred wants to celebrate. And what a better way to properly commemorate such an occasion by desperately eating you out.
Warnings: Smut, alcohol, intoxication, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, nudity, groping, dry humping, fingering, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, premature ejeculation, swearing, and mentions of: Perverted old men, sex, and pregnancy scares.
Word Count: 5,080
You knew something was amiss with Fred from the moment you had entered the front door.
Following a rather long and grueling day of work, desperate for any form of relaxation, you had finally stumbled back into your apartment around eleven one evening. You were employed at a bar, working as a serve who was expected to constantly run around the building and tend to each humiliating command demanded by a guest, all whilst supporting the most uncomfortable uniform of your entire life (if you could even regard the skimpy shirt and rather revealing jeans as a proper uniform). Although you were often scheduled from one until nine, there were no strict rules about when you were allowed to actually end your shift. In fact, the only regulation was: You can leave when you are told. Which was often hours after the specified conclusion of your shift. Therefore, returning home rather late wasn't exactly atypical. In fact, you would have much more surprised if you had actually managed to end your shift at a reasonable time.
As you arrived within the entrance of your apartment, you were immediately greeted by the vision of Fred located within a rather awkward position upon the couch. His head was draped over the back side of the sofa, with the rest of his body slumped across the cushions, his weight slowly sliding towards the floor. The coffee table was an absolute mess, empty chip bags and forgotten soda cans abandoned upon the surface. The television was so loud, you wondered how it hadn't managed to burst the speakers. A random episode of South Park was being broadcast upon the screen, displaying the image of Cartman, Kenny, Kyle, and Stan up to their usual shenanigans. And within the confines of the dim living room, the bright illumination radiating from the screen was the only source of light.
The moment you entered the apartment, your vision had immediately connected with Fred's, swiftly discovering that he had already been staring towards you, as if he could somehow predict exactly when you were going to arrive. And as soon as both of your eyes had collided, a rather wide and somewhat goofy smirk slowly exploded across your boyfriends lips. It was like he was completely thrilled that you had finally returned, within the same manner a dog might lounge by the door all day, simply awaiting their owners arrival.
"What are you doing?" You inquired whilst you kicked off your shoes upon the door mat, your question laced beneath a slight chuckle.
In return, Fred giggled as well. However, he was not laughing within the same manner as you had been: Chuckling in response to his rather foolish appearance and odd position. Instead, it was as if he was giggling simply because you were, clearly unaware of what was particularly humorous about the entire situation. In all honesty, he was just laughing to laugh, operating entirely off of muscle memory.
He had executed a rather silly giggle, a vulnerable and genuine chuckle, not some sort of facade. It was true laughter, a giggle he only supported whenever he was drunk. And by the looks of it, he certainly was.
"I heard your keys." He drawled, his voice thick with intoxication.
That explained how he had been aware of your arrival, before you had even managed to successfully enter the apartment. Once again, extremely similar to the manner in which a dog's ears will perk to attention whenever they perceive the audio of their owner's car within the driveway.
You disregarded your purse upon the small table situated within the entranceway, the bag colliding against the surface with a mixture of jingling, clunks, and thumping. You shoved your jacket upon the coat hanger, like if you didn't remove it at that very moment, you might die. All before you finally traveled towards the couch, your movements rather slow and each step heavy with exhaustion. Following a long day of labour, constantly upon your feet, you were tired, worn, and your limbs were aching. You desired nothing more than to simply unwind and relax alongside your boyfriend.
"Is this what you did all day? Get drunk and watch South Park?" You asked as you flopped down onto the couch beside him.
Your inquiry wasn't the result of anger or irritation. In fact, it was due to your slight amusement, genuinely intrigued by the idea that he hadn't managed to pull himself away from the television since the moment he had awoke that morning. For some reason, the thought of Fred flopping onto the couch as soon as he woke up, turning on the television before snacking, drinking, and watching a wide variety of different adult cartoons all day was rather amusing.
However, even as you had collapsed beside him, the sofa shifting beneath your weight, Fred still hadn't managed to properly lift his head. He did not direct his attention towards you with a physical alteration of his current position. Instead, he simply continued to gaze absently towards the ceiling, allowing his skull to remain draped over the backside of the couch.
Your prior inquiry was swiftly dismissed, due to the reality that Fred appeared to possess a much different topic in mind, a notion he seemed to prioritize. He had most likely been repeating such a thought within his mind throughout the entire day, in order to avoid possibly forgetting such an important subject.
"Sit on my face." He declared, much less of a request and more of a demand.
Of course, your boyfriend often ate you out. After all, he wasn't a loser. Fred was a man of both morals and dignity. He knew better than to avoid pleasing his girlfriend. However, it was often a result of your own request, or as some form of foreplay prior to the proper act of sex. It was never this unexpected.
"What?" You had quickly remarked, surprise and a subtle hint of amusement lacing your tone.
You assumed he had been joking, much too intoxicated to properly contemplate the words that exited his mouth. He was probably just rambling, as he tended to do whenever he was drunk.
However, Fred did not sound the least bit uncertain when he eventually responded with:
"I wanna eat you." His statement was both direct and simple, as if it was the most obvious answer within the entire world. Like there was absolutely no reason to doubt him.
You rolled your eyes with a breathy laugh, further slumping into the sofa. You were somewhat amused by such a random demand, assuming that such an action would surely evolve into something much more serious, as it typically did. And you certainly did not want to participate within drunk sex along side your boyfriend, a state of intoxication that often caused him to become both uncoordinated and sloppy. You had experienced many different pregnancy scares as a result of Freds inability to properly control himself whenever he consumed alcohol.
"Fred, you're drunk." You simply responded, guiding your left palm up towards his hair, caressing and stroking his soft locks.
Such rejection appeared to finally capture your boyfriend's attention, causing Fred's head to lull forwards, properly detaching his skull from the couch. His movements were both slow and rather wobbly, like his head weighed one thousand pounds upon his shoulders (similar to the manner in which the top of a tree man sway within the breeze), before he leisurely shifted his vision towards you.
You were instantly greeted by the rather stern expression etched across Fred's features, a hint of confusion glazing his vision, as if that was the stupidest response he had ever received. All whilst his head would occasionally sway and tilt backwards, like some sort of invisible magnetic force was dragging him down towards the couch all over again.
"So what? I do it even when Im not." He stated simply, his voice much too serious for such a topic, like this was a life or death situation.
You couldn't seem to deny the slight smirk that inched across your lips in response to his rather sassy remark. After all, he wasn't wrong. This wasn't some sort of new or unfamiliar situation the two of you were exploring. Your boyfriend ate you out almost every single night, it wasn't out of the ordinary.
"Fair point." You mumbled as you shifted your attention towards the television, attempting to simply relax and enjoy the stupid comedy of the adult cartoon following your grueling ten hour shift of serving fat, perverted old men at the dingy dive bar you were employed at.
Yet, Fred wasn't as easily distracted by the show compared to yourself. In fact, he had been watching it for the last four hours whilst he became increasing intoxicated. Instead, you weren't ignorant to the sensation of his vision gazing upon you, his eyes practically burning holes into the back of your skull.
So, you decided to simply ignore his antics, attempting to alter the subject entirely, to redirect his focus upon something else.
"Did you eat all the chips?" You inquired.
It was a simple question, a basic inquiry, something you'd ask as average small talk. Yet, Fred hadn't been so easily fooled. He was aware of your tactics, informed of the fact that you were actively attempting to distract him. He wouldn't surrender that easily.
"Don't ignore me." He swiftly responded, his voice thick with a mixture of both intoxication and lust.
Once again, you giggled in response to his silly behaviors. He had always been rather snarky whenever he was drunk. Fred wasn't the type to become angry or violent when he consumed alcohol. Instead, he transformed into some sort of sassy teenager, bickering and teasing within a rather adorable manner. And observing the stark alteration between his typically tough and composed persona, before morphing into both snide and lively was always rather amusing.
"Don't ignore me." You retorted, turning towards him with a grin.
However, Fred wasn't grinning. Instead, his features were completely blank, as if he was entirely unaware of the subtle humor laced within the situation, all whilst he stared shamelessly towards your lips.
"Yeah, I did. Now, will you come sit on my face already?" He quickly responded, his attention flickering back towards your vision as he became increasingly antsy.
You laughed as you shook your head in amusement. Your boyfriend was acting as if this was the most dire situation of his entire life. Like he might just roll over and die if he wasn't allowed to eat you out right then and there.
"Whats with the impatiences?" You asked.
Fred was becoming increasingly irritated by the relentless berate of questions, his answers becoming much shorter and direct with each response, desperate to simply conclude the talking and begin pleasuring you. He just couldn't understand why you had been so hesitant. He just wanted to eat you out, why was that so hard to understand?
"Our album just blew up. I wanna celebrate." He explained, his voice lowering as he leaned towards you, his lips chasing your own.
You brought a palm up towards his chest, as if to physically distance yourself. And due to how drunk he currently was, Fred possessed a very little amount of physical composure, causing him to stumble backwards as a result of the slight push.
"It looks like you've celebrated enough, stud." You teased with a giggle, obviously referencing the variety of beer bottles currently scattered across the expanse of the coffee table.
In response, Fred exaggeratedly rolled his eyes, as if he was becoming increasingly annoyed by your consistent rejection.
Although he was drunk, your boyfriend still possessed enough physical strength to lean forward and gather your figure within his arms, captivating you within his grasp as he began to drag you across the expanse of the sofa and towards his own form.
"Yeah, but not with you. So come on." He mumbled, his lips immediately connecting with your exposed neck.
His mouth was hot against your skin, his breath dancing across your throat as he began to litter soft and delicate kisses to your flesh. He both licked and lapped at your jugular, as if to subtly persuade you. And as the seconds continued to pass, his desperation became increasingly obvious, due to the fact that what began as both gentle and tender kisses, had soon evolved into soft bites and little nips against your flesh. Fred was mouthing at your skin as if he was physically attempting to contain himself, forcing himself to refrain from successfully consuming you alive. His desire (along with the effects of the alcohol) had transformed him into some sort of lustful and starving beast.
You brought your palms up to his face, cupping his cheeks and caressing his features with the pads of your thumbs, as if to physically reassure and calm him. All whilst he continued to both lap and nip at the column of your throat, swiftly becoming enveloped within the task of littering an array of hickeys and marks across the expanse of your skin, actively groaning against your flesh with each sloppy kiss.
"Fiiiine." You finally surrendered, to which Fred had responded with a hum of approval against your neck, his hands immediately roaming towards the buttons of your work uniform.
The effects of his intoxication caused him to become rather clumsy and disoriented, his fingers struggling with each button stitched upon your blouse, palms slipping, and hands repeatedly fumbling. You released a rather amused chuckle, entertained by his inept actions, before you started to assist him, guiding your hands towards his own in order to help him properly undress you.
Even as he started to focus upon the task of removing your clothing, obviously struggling with such a simple objective, Fred's exploration of your skin had failed to falter. In fact, he didn't continue to only kiss and lap at your neck. Instead, your boyfriend started to trail his mouth across each inch of skin that was exposed as you slowly removed your top. His lips were repeatedly pressed against your collar bones, occasionally nibbling at the tender flesh. His mouth danced down your chest, branding you with a variety of hickeys. And his tongue had even traveled far enough to successfully lap at the expanse of your upper stomach.
Once your shirt had been properly removed, revealing the fact that you had failed to support a bra that day (a discovery in which Fred had responded to with a gruff moan), your boyfriend absently disregarded your top behind the couch. His right hand swiftly ventured up towards your exposed breasts, palming the flesh and occasionally pinching your nipples. All whilst his left hand successfully guided you onto his lap.
As soon as your ass had collided against his thighs, you were instantly introduced to the evidence of Fred's intense arousal. His cock was both hot and erect beneath you, much harder than normal, the sensation similar to that of a rock situated below you. His dick was firm, desperate, and repeatedly throbbing against your ass.
Fred instinctually thrusted upwards, as if he was completely unable to control any of his movements, his erection colliding against the warmth of your clothed core. Due to the impact, your boyfriend released a muffled groan against the soft flesh of your shoulder he had been sucking upon, his teeth threatening to bite down upon my skin as a result of the intense pleasure caused by even the slightest thrust. He was moaning absently to himself with each subtle grind of his hips. Not for the sake of your own satisfaction or pride (attempting to somehow reassure you), but instead, as a result of his genuine pleasure within that moment.
After a few moments of indulging himself within the sensation of his dick repeatedly colliding against your clothed core, Fred's hands soon began to focus upon the task of successfully removing your jeans. His fingers struggled with the button of your pants, just as he had done with your blouse. His thick thumbs fumbled with the zipper, all whilst his ministrations upon your flesh had continued, sucking, nipping, and licking at any inch of exposed skin he discovered.
Something about his sincere devotion, the obvious desperation laced within each moan and his increasing impatience evident within each soft thrust of his hips, was becoming extremely attractive. Just the simple thought of eating you out had reverted your boyfriend into some sort of primal and depraved creature. He was extremely turned on by the simple promise of you sitting upon his face.
Maybe drunk Fred wasn't as bad as you had previously anticipated.
After releasing a few giggles, rather amused by the silly conflict occurring between his fingers and your jeans, you eventually assisted your lover within the task of properly removing the remainder of your clothing. You lifted your hips, providing him with the correct angle to successfully push your pants down the length of your thighs. You shimmied out of your jeans and kicked them onto the floor, leaving you within only the modesty provided by your underwear. All whilst Fred remained entirely dressed. In all honesty, it was as if he had forgotten that he was even clothed at all, like the reality that he should undress, in order to share the moment along side you, had failed to even cross his mind. He was so motivated by the promise of pleasuring you, he had completely dismissed such a crucial detail.
Yet, he didn't seem to mind, and who were you to complain?
Fred did not appear even slightly discouraged by the presence of your underwear. Instead, his thumb immediately collided against your clothed clit, executing rather sloppy circles around the hardened nub. Just as your boyfriend had been shockingly hard, you were surprisingly wet. Your own desperation was soon revealed as you perceived how easily his fingers glided through your slick folds, even though you were still covered by your underwear. It honestly felt as if the fabric hadn't even been present at all.
Upon impact, you shivered beneath his touch, trembling upon his lap due to your extreme sensitivity. Something about Fred's desperation, his motivation, and his genuine anticipation, had caused you to become as equally excited. And as a result, even the slightest touch had caused you to both twitch and stumble against his fingers. Additionally, with the manner in which he was currently thumbing your clit with extreme intensity and a general lack of coordination, your body was seemingly unsure whether to distance itself from Fred of become captivated by his affection. You were consistently whimpering and trembling within his lap.
Of course, with every occasion in which you would grind down upon his palm or quiver against his fingers, you would unintentionally manage to reward your boyfriend with a thrust of your ass against his erection. An accidental stroke to his clothed cock in which he would never fail to respond with a muffled groan or a gruff moan against your flesh, burying his head further into the depths of your shoulder. The two of you had quickly entered some sort of dry humping session, similar to a pair of horny and wild animals during mating season.
However, Fred didn't spend too much time exploring your clothed crotch with his fingers before he became greedy for more. Sure, he enjoyed the sensation of your wet core situated against his palm, the evidence of your arousal glazing his fingers. Yet, he preferred the same exact results, but instead against his mouth. And within that moment, he yearned for you to be situated upon his face, suffocating under the weight of your legs with his head captivated between your thighs.
Your boyfriend soon began to tug upon your underwear, a silent plea of entry into your naked core. His own desperate acquiring the best of him as he became increasingly impatient, yanking at your clothing as if he was attempting to simply tear the fabric straight from your figure. And once again, who were you to deny your lover of what he truly desired?
So, you had obeyed.
You lifted your hips and allowed Fred to properly remove your underwear, tossing the clothing article behind him once more, just as he had previously done with both your shirt and pants. And as soon as he had successfully disposed of your underwear, his palms immediately returned to your waist, directing your figure towards his face with a gentle tug upon your hips.
"This doesn't seem like we're celebrating you, Fred; it feels like we're celebrating me." You declared with a breathy chuckle whilst you positioned yourself above his face.
You had crawled up the length of the couch, your knees situated upon either side of his head. You were holding your weight over him like some sort of tease, within the same manner someone might lure in a dog with the promise of a treat. Fred had leaned his head against the back of the couch once more, his figure relaxing into the comfort of the cushions beneath him, just as he had done before. And with the manner in which he was currently gazing up towards you, his lids heavy with arousal and a foolish smirk plastered across his features, it appeared as if this truly was some sort of reward for your boyfriend. Within that moment, you felt like a carrot being dangled upon a string before the scrutiny of a starving farm animal.
Fred appeared absolutely euphoric from below you, as if the simple proximity of your crotch had somehow managed to intoxicate him. His vision was rather drowsy, lids heavy and dark pupils blow wide with lust. A thick sheen of saliva had glazed his lips, due to the large amount of time he had spent both sucking and licking upon your flesh. His features supported a rosy hue, completely flushed, and a ditsy grin was plastered across his mouth. All whilst he stared up towards you like some sort of pleading puppy dog, begging for the table scraps following a delicious Thanksgiving meal.
"I like it." He stated simply, his words both distant and drawled, as if he was mentally detached, gazing upon the display of your crotch in front of him "Trust me, sweetheart, it's a reward enough." He had added once his vision had collided with your own irises.
And with two large palms splayed against your hips, Fred started to guide your crotch towards his face.
Your core collided with his soaked tongue immediately; your boyfriend did not waste anytime by executing soft kisses or tender kitten licks against the sensitive skin surrounding your entrance. He failed to tease or taunt you with gentle nips against the flesh of your thighs, as some sort of preparation, just as he usually did. Instead, Fred dove right in, dismissing any form of proper grooming as he instantly pressed your weight against his flattened tongue.
Within that exact moment, everything about your boyfriend was depraved, perverted, and absolutely sinful. Maybe it had been due to his extreme desperation, or the effects of his own intoxication, but whatever the reason may have been, it caused each and every one of Fred's movements to become sloppy, wet, and desperate. He was eating you out like he was a staring man provided with his first, proper meal within weeks. Something about his determination, yearning to please you, caused each gesture to feel extremely satisfying.
Your boyfriend was slobbering against your clit, utilizing as much saliva as possible, causing you to wonder how his system could possibly provide that much liquid. His movements were both swift and sloppy whilst he applied the perfect amount of pressure with the usage of his textured tongue. The overall haphazardness and desperation of the entire scene was completely devious.
Fred utilized one palm upon your left hip in order to properly guide your movements, assisting you within the task of successfully grinding against his wet mouth. All whilst his other hand focused upon lazily palming himself through his jeans. Your boyfriend failed to properly remove his dick from the confines of his pants, in order to pleasure himself whilst he simultaneously satisfied you. He did not jerk himself off whilst you thrusted against his lips. Instead, it was as if he had completely dismissed his own desires, focusing entirely upon you.
With every subtle moan and slight whimper of pleasure, Fred had responded with a groan of his own. He would whine and grumble against your entrance, causing vibrations to spiral through your clit, only further intensifying the extreme pleasure, which you had previously regarded as completely impossible. In fact, it honestly appeared as if your boyfriend was enjoying the entire situation more than yourself. He was releasing a large amount of whimpers and groans against your crotch, as if he was gaining some sort of physical pleasure from the act of eating you out, even though he had remained completely untouched. With each moan you executed, Fred would respond with three more of his own.
He was frantic, desperate, and uncoordinated, causing your core, thighs, and even a portion of your lower stomach, to become completely drenched within his own saliva. Yet, this only made things feel ten times more satisfying. Each movement of his tongue, every glide of his lips, and each motion of his mouth felt rather intense against your sensitive clit.
You were arriving before your finish rather abruptly, your orgasm descending upon you like an avalanche. Your conclusion had appeared much sooner than usual, a reality in which appeared to only further motivate Fred.
As your moans became more frequent, beginning to both groan and whine as a result of even the slightest touch, your boyfriends movements became a lot more erratic and swift from below you. He held your crotch against his mouth with the usage of his large palms splayed across your exposed thighs, as if he was desperate to feel you cum. And with the manner in which he was currently forcing you captive against his face, you worried he might accidentally suffocate himself. However, due to the fact that he was repeatedly moaning and consistently groaning against your core, you knew he'd at least die a happy man.
"Fred, Im- Im gonna cum." You eventually moaned, your voice soft and trembling as you stumbled through such a simple phrase.
A statement in which your lover had responded with some muffled remark against your core, a claim you were unable to properly comprehend. Yet, you were aware of the reality that it was most likely something along the lines of "Cum for me, sweetheart." Or "Show me how much you love me, darlin'."
And with a final glance towards your lover, his face buried between your thighs, vision drowsy, yet laced with admiration, and his flesh flushed beneath a crimson hue, you were instantly cumming against his tongue. The barrier had finally exploded as you started to convulse against his mouth, your entrance throbbing with each contraction as you moaned his name and gripped lightly upon his blond locks. And once again, with every groan you had executed, your boyfriend never failed to respond with a version of his own whimper.
Fred's desperation was only further revealed when he failed to properly release his grip upon your hips, even long after you had finished. He did not detach his fingers from your thighs before allowing you to collapse upon the couch beside him, gasping for air and completely exhausted following such an intense orgasm. No. Instead, your boyfriend simply continued to hold you against his mouth, forcing you to grind upon his tongue with repetitive yanks of your waist, until you were moaning for mercy as a result of the extremely pleasurable pain.
Eventually, once he had seemingly satiated his desire, Fred finally released you. His palms slowly slipped from your thighs, tumbling down upon the cushions beside him, and finally allowing you to escape.
Due to the fact that you had been required to hold yourself up above his face for such an extended period of time, your thighs were throbbing as you toppled onto the couch. However, even once you had flopped onto the sofa next to him, Fred had failed to lift his head. Instead, he remained dormant within his position, his skull draped against the back edge of the sofa whilst his vision fluttered shut. He was slowly drifting off to sleep within the same exact manner he typically did whenever the two of you had concluded any sort of sexual act together. However, he hadn't yet finished, which caused you to wonder why he was starting to rest as if he already had.
"Okay, now it's your turn." You eventually declared once you had successfully managed to compose your rapid breathing.
You slowly began to crawl across the length of the couch, reaching for his pants, prepared to satisfy him just as he had done for you. However, your fingers hadn't even managed to graze the metal buckle of his belt before Fred's palm had swiftly landed upon your exposed thigh, an obvious attempt to reject your advances. It was as if he was much too exhausted to properly stop you, like he didn't possess the required amount of both energy and strength in order to shift his position and physically halt you. Yet, you had received the message all the same.
"No, thats alright." He mumbled, as if he wasn't even awake enough to speak louder than a slight grumble. He was so quiet, you had almost missed his claim entirely.
You raised your brow in response, unfamiliar with the sensation of receiving any form of rejection from Fred. Typically, he would accept each and every sexual advance you had provided him with, lacking any form of apprehension, no matter the situation. The two of you could be visiting a very public environment, and your boyfriend would have happily bent you over the nearest surface and had his way with you if you had decided to even playfully wink within his direction.
"Why not?" You asked, genuine intrigue lacing your voice.
And with that, Freds blissful grin only further expanded across his lips, practically splitting his face in half. Like he couldn't have been more proud of himself within that exact moment.
"Cause I think I fuckin' came in my pants." He declared with an amused chuckle.
Summary: You are dating Leland's son. Your boyfriend asks you to tend to his childhood home for a few days while him and his father go on a trip for about a week. Completely prepared to simply manage the house for seven days (possessing an empty home to do whatever you please), you soon figure out that things hadn't gone exactly as planned.
Warnings: Obsession, creepy behavior, inappropriate actions, age gap, alcohol, drinking, swearing, lying, jealousy, misogyny, smoking, the police, physical contact (not directly sexual but not exactly appropriate either??), inappropriate relationship, and mentions of: Weapons, death, violence, nudity, murder, and mental illness.
Word Count: 10,032
(Part One)
"M-Mr. Coyle?" The audio of the young woman's voice rang out from below him, her tone rather hesitant and soft, laced with the gentle haziness of lingering slumber.
As if her words were comparable to that of a radiating shot gun blast, Leland instantly froze. It was like the mere sound of the young woman's consciousness had acted as the unbinding that destroyed the spell he had been captured within, successfully tearing from his previous trance-like state. One moment, he had been immobilized by some kind of curse, unable to either control or dictate any of his actions. He had been completely overpowered by his own desires, his system managed entirely by his own desperation. But suddenly, it was as if both his ethics and morals had instantly returned to him. Similar to the manner in which a sword might penetrate its victim, his integrity had immediately infiltrated his mind.
Rather than instantly retracting his palm and creating the appropriate amount of distance between himself and his own son's girlfriend. Instead, Coyle hesitated for a moment, both physically and mentally. For a few seconds, his fingers continued to linger across the expanse of her plush thigh, as if he was savoring the fleeting sensation of her soft skin situated beneath his textured palms.
Once he had finally managed to properly detach himself, retracting his arm with a swift yank (as if he was required to forcefully tear himself away from the young woman's form), Leland perceived the reality that he was physically shivering. His movements faltering, fingers quivering, and legs trembling from below him, like his entire form had been transformed into jello. And in all honesty, he wasn't entirely certain if such a reaction was the result of fear and terror, or if his shaking was due to some sort of intense emotion, like the sensation of her young and flawless flesh situated beneath his palms had somehow managed to alter his entire life. As if her smooth and perfect skin was comparable to that of Pandora's box, a seemingly harmless object that would ultimately modify the remainder of his existence.
Within that moment, it felt as if there was a gun currently pressed against his temple, a looming threat that caused dread to infiltrate his entire system. This was a mistake, he had been both careless and naive. Leland shouldn't have done that. Instead, he should have simply tied himself down to his own mattress until he eventually managed to drift off to sleep. Sure, he most likely would have tossed and turned like a caged beast, and such a notion may sound completely insane, but at least then he wouldn't be able to do something so foolish. It felt as if a bomb could detonate at any moment and alter his entire life, from his relationship between himself and his own son, to both his entire career and daily existence. Yet, this was an explosive he had placed himself, a mine he had been ignorant enough to walk across, even though he was well aware of its location.
This was the one mistake he couldn't retract, the vital error he was unable to erase, a mess he would never be able to conceal. If such news were to ever be revealed, Michael would surely estrange himself, his boss might fire him, and his entire reputation would be completely ruined. No one trusts an officer who sneaks into the bedroom of a young woman during the late hours of the evening, in order to harass her. Especially not a cop who is attracted to his own, nineteen year old son's girlfriend.
"Mr. Coyle?" The young woman repeated once more, her voice suddenly much more composed and steady, as if all of her previous sleep fueled confusion had finally dissipated. The vision of her boyfriends Sargent father standing before the edge of the bed with his palm splayed across her thigh was surely enough to properly sober her groggy mind. "What are you doing?"
Previously, he had presumed that the young woman was unable to appear so firm and assured. Coyle assumed she was only capable of the extremely soft and gentle tone she had always supported, her voice both tender and kind, as if she was unable to execute any sort of a serious demeanor. Before, he imagined that the young woman would never fail to behave both submissive and obedient, no matter the circumstance. Within his wildest fantasies, Leland imagined her allowing him to do what ever he had pleased during such an intense moment. He believed she would remain passive, respect his authority, and revert to her typically timid and womanly demeanor.
Yet, she hadn't.
Most people were extremely passive when interacting with Leland, allowing him to practically walk all over them, simply due to his social status and superior career. Others were typically intimidated by Officer Coyle, even the young woman had remained rather distant during their previous interactions, no matter how rude he may have behaved.
However, it was as if the young woman had suddenly transformed, originating both shy and soft, before suddenly evolving into stern and serious. And this was a side of her personality that Coyle was unsure if he despised or adored. If she had been anyway else, he would have certainly been enraged, no matter how incorrect he had previously behaved. No one regards Leland Coyle within such a disrespectful manner.
Instead, her inquiry was blunt, direct, and firm, within the same manner Leland might address a lying criminal whilst asking something along the lines of "What do ya think yer doin' with that gun?" Or "Did ya pay for that television you just walked away with?" The young woman was stern, her voice assured as she boldly confronted him. She did not seem scared, afraid, or even slightly apprehensive. In fact, such a stern tone was the farthing thing Coyle had previously expected. And such courage had left Leland rather baffled.
As if her prior statement was comparable to that of a physical slap across the face, Leland stumbled backwards, like the intensity of such a firm tone had forcefully affected him. Coyle had never allowed anyone to regard him within such a harsh manner, not even his own mother. Especially not a woman a few decades younger than himself. He skittered back a step, as if he was attempting to actively distance himself from the invisible magnetic pull the young woman appeared to possess over him. All whilst stuttering like a fool.
"(Y/N), I- You-" He stammered over his words, like his tongue had suddenly been tied within a knot. Yet, his disorientation was simply met by a rather confused gaze from the young woman situated before him, her brows furrowed and a hint of perplexity lacing her vision. Now, she was hauled up within his son's bed, her knees drawn against her chest and her weight resting upon her palms as she leaned backwards, like she was physically distancing herself as well. Ultimately, a meek "Im sorry." Was all he could manage.
Desperate to escape and not exactly sure how to address the entire situation, Leland quickly skittered out of the room, his feet sliding against the hard wood floor. He slammed his son's bedroom door such behind him as he exited the room, disappearing into the dark hallway. He had forcefully closed the entrance within the same manner a villain might trap their unnatural creation within the depths of a dreary basement. Slamming the door like he could some how destroy the evidence of such a mistake by simply locking the door before throwing away the key. And thats exactly what this was: A shameful secret, an embarrassing moment of weakness he desired to remain concealed.
For the remainder of the night, Leland was awake, only rewarded with the occasional twenty to thirty minute interval of rest. He continuously stirred amongst the sheets, his spiraling thoughts plaguing his mind, reverting him into nothing more than an anxiety riddled husk of his previously assured self. He was worried how the young woman may react within the morning, once the lingering affects of her slumber had finally dissipated and her mind was clear. He feared she might call Michael and inform him of what had occurred that evening, claiming that his perverted father had touched her inappropriately whilst she slept.
And in all honesty, Coyle wouldn't have been surprised. Reasonably, that would be the correct thing to do. Either that, or she would disappear without a trace the following morning, managing to vanish before the sun had even started to grace the horizon. If he had a daughter, Leland would want her to do the same exact thing. If she had been his own child, Coyle would have beat the ever loving shit out of any man who managed to even accidentally make his daughter uncomfortable.
But for his own sake, and due to his insane sense of narcissism, Leland had hoped for the best. He practically prayed that the entire situation would simply be forgotten and his life could resume exactly the same as before. That he could continue to adore the young woman's beauty whenever she visited along side his son, allowing himself to reminisce upon her smooth skin and the exposed length of her thighs during his exceptionally lonely nights, provided with only the company of his own hands.
However, as the warm illumination of the morning sun began to dance through the curtains and tomorrow transformed into today, all of Coyle's previous concerns were soon dismissed.
Leland had awoken long before his alarm, his own anxiety causing him to become restless. Although his mind was tired, his body was entirely exhausted, and his system was completely drained, he wearily rose from his bed. With trembling limbs, he slipped from the mattress and ventured into the hallway.
He didn't even allow himself to glance within the general direction of his son's bedroom, forcing his attention to remain glued upon the stairwell before him. Instead, he completely ignored that general area of his home, traveling down stairs as if this was just any other morning, exhausted after a staying up much too late the previous evening.
Yet, as he arrived within the kitchen, Coyle was soon greeted by a rather unexpected sight. A surprising vision, but a welcomed view none the less. Situated upon the counter was a prepared lunch, consisting of a sandwich, a few grapes, and a soda prepared within a paper bag. A warm cup of coffee paired with a bagel were provided as well, available as some sort of quick and simple breakfast option. Additionally, his uniform had been ironed, his jacket was clean, and all of the previous dirt and grime that had accumulated upon his work boots had magically disappeared.
This was the absolute last result Leland had expected. In all honesty, he had assumed the young woman, along with the evidence of her entire existence, would have completely disappeared by the time he had awoken for work. However, as he glanced towards the stairs, peering down the second story hallway, he soon discovered that a stream of warm light was flooding from beneath his son's bedroom door, soft illumination that danced across the floor and signaled the young woman's presence.
For a moment, Coyle wondered if she had slept that night. Or, had the young woman remained restless as well, completely perturbed by the events of the previous evening? However, he decided not to confirm either assumption. Instead, he simply prepared himself for the day (ate the provided breakfast, changed into his uniform, and collected his belongings) before he traveled outside.
Of course, not without creating a short note, expressing his appreciation with the usage of dark ink upon a random sheet of paper, in which he situated upon the kitchen counter. The brief letter detailed something along the lines of:
(Y/N),
Thank you for the coffee and lunch. I'll be back around five.
- Leland
The entire expanse of his shift had been absolute torture for Coyle. Every single minute that passed felt as if it had lasted for an hour. Although his stint of labour had only lasted around nine hours, Leland felt as if he had been at work for three days straight. He was extremely paranoid, flinching at every subtle sound and each occasion in which one of his coworkers would call his name. Entirely overwhelmed by a mixture of both terror and anxiety, Leland had even managed to make himself ill. His brain constantly assuming the worst, envisioning himself being scolded by his own son, as a result of his irresponsible behaviors, had caused his stomach to churn with looming dread.
When he had originally arrived at his place of employment, Coyle had been scheduled within the station. Rather than ordered to simply cruise around town (where he could pass the time by basically doing whatever he pleased, properly distracting himself). Instead, Leland had been instructed to simply complete paper work and fill out all of the form he had previously ignored. A grueling and tedious task that only made his day stretch on for even longer.
Throughout the first half of his shift, Coyle participated within a multitude of smoke breaks. Almost every five minutes, he'd excuse himself in order to indulge within a cigarette, chasing any form of comfort and relaxation he could possibly obtain. Leland was smoking as if it was the air he needed to breath.
However, after only a couple hours of preparing various documents and providing his signature, agreeing to only God knows what (much too distracted to properly peruse through each provided form), Coyle had finally snapped. Within the middle of the seemingly hundredth document, he had suddenly disregarded his pen. He rose from his seat, ventured outside the perimeter of his office, and exited the building. Of course, his boss had been rather frustrated, inquiring upon Leland's sudden disobedience. Yet, when Coyle simply explained that he "needed a break," the sheriff failed to interject. He would certainly receive some sort of punishment the following day, but Leland was the least bit concerned regarding tomorrow. In fact, tomorrow barely even existed within his mind at that very moment.
From the second he journeyed outside, the warm summer breeze colliding against his sweat glazed skin, Coyle climbed into his cop car. For the remainder of his shift, Leland simply cruised around town. However, he did not occupy his time by relaxing within a diner or executing random errands, as he typically did during such patrols. No. Instead, he parked along the side of a random street and became completely detached from the world around him. Someone could have raced by his cruiser, traveling fifty miles over the speed limit, and Leland wouldn't have attempted to stop them. In fact, he probably wouldn't even have noticed.
Coyle was constantly on edge, his heart hammering against his rib cage as if his very life was being threatened. And within his mind, it honestly was. His thoughts were consistently wandering and his brain was foggy. Each rational idea that appeared within his mind had drifted away only moments prior, as if sanity was upon the tip of his fingers, before ultimately floating out of reach.
Leland couldn't seem to dismiss the tsunami of negative notions that would repetitively flash within his mind, dreadful thoughts that only further inflated his accumulated stress. Coyle wasn't sure if such symptoms were the result of his previous mistake of just a general lack of slumber. His thoughts were distant, his brain overwhelmed by the sensation of anxiety, he was persistently sweating, as if he had just ran a marathon, and his stomach had suddenly become sour, due to the constant sensation of dread looming over his shoulders. Whatever the reason may have been, Leland was entirely exhausted and completely terrified. He desired nothing more than to roll over and die of shame within that exact moment.
He expected to receive some sort of message over the police radio at any moment, possibly his boss informing him that Michael was on the phone and sounded furious, demanding to speak with him. He envisioned the young woman storming down to the police station while he was away, filing some sort of report against both him and his disgusting actions.
Yet, eventually, his shift had concluded. After nine agonizingly long hours, he was finally permitted to return home.
As Leland directed his vehicle into the drive way, his fear seemed to further evolve, which he had previously regarded as seemingly impossible. The officer didn't think he could become anymore scared.
Coyle was prepared for the young woman to scold him, to scream and holler within his face, to maybe even throw random objects towards him, all whilst regarding him as some sort of nasty pervert. Which wasn't exactly false, but he wasn't prepared to face such a reality just yet.
His stomach physically flipped within his gut as he encountered the vision of the front door propped open once more, just as it had been the afternoon before. The young woman had failed disappeared before he returned home, practically vanishing into thin air as he had previously expected. Instead, she had refrained from such an action. The evidence of her presence was provided by the scene displayed before him: The front door wide open and the windows drawn up, allowing some sort of natural breeze to properly permeate his home.
Previously, the idea of entering his house, just to be introduced to the sensation of the mid summer warmth, the smell of fresh cut grass, and the scent of blooming flowers, would have intrigued him. But not anymore. Now, Coyle was rather frightened by such a notion, terrified by the thought of stepping even one foot into his own home. Within his mind, entering the house was comparable to tossing himself into a pit of venomous snakes, entirely upon his own accord.
However, he couldn't remain situated within his cruiser for the remainder of the evening, even though he desired nothing more than to situate himself as far away from the young woman as possible. So, as he ventured from the depths of his car, his legs were comparable to that of jelly beneath him. His feet were hesitant against the firm pavement, as if this was his first time properly walking. And as he ventured into the confines of his home, it was as if he had suddenly forgotten how to breath. The air instantly became caught within his throat as fear began to successfully suffocate him.
This time, as he entered the house, Leland failed to discover the young woman relaxing within the backyard, supporting nothing but a skimpy bathing suit and a novel to properly occupy her mind, just as he had yesterday. Even though the backdoor had been left wide open once again, she was not lounging upon the lawn, basking within the sun. Instead, Coyle was greeted by a rather satisfying smell, the scent of some sort of food that caused his mouth to salivate. And just like always, as if he was operating entirely off of muscle memory, the officer kicked off his boots by the front entrance and hung his jacket upon the adjacent wall before venturing further into the depths of his home.
As he entered the open concept kitchen, Leland soon discovered the young woman situated in front of the stove, appearing to be concluding her ministries with whatever she had been cooking. Two plates had been situated upon either end of the dining table, displaying the fact that she had been preparing a meal. And with the cold beer located beside one of the platters, Coyle took that as an invitation to properly seat himself.
The officer couldn't help but feel as if he was stumbling directly into her trap, like he was actively situating himself in front of a loaded weapon. Why was she being so nice? There was no way she was actually preparing a meal just for him, after everything that had occurred the previous evening. This must have been a set up, right?
Leland had expected to be rewarded with some sort of reprimand, for the young woman to scold him as a result of his lewd behaviors once he was properly exhausted following a long day of work. He was prepared for the young woman to both yell and holler at him, maybe even secretly poisoning the food. He was expecting some form of an argument that had never arrived.
However, such anger had never occurred. Instead, the young woman had remained silent as she prepared each of the separate plates, going as far to provide him with his own food, without even being asked. And once she had concluded, the young woman situated herself upon the other end of the table, in front of the plate that lacked the cold beer. Directly across from Leland.
Dinner had went exactly as one would expect, extremely similar to the previous evening. The two were mostly quiet, an intense and awkward silence infiltrating the atmosphere. She had kept things rather civil, inquiring about Leland's day and asking him about his work, as if everything was completely normal. Like she was completely unaware of the officer's overwhelming anxiety within that exact moment.
Once the meal had finally concluded and the young woman stood to tend the mess (still completely avoiding the interaction Coyle had been mentally preparing himself), Leland had released a rather exacerbated sigh, aware of the reality that he would be the one required to confront the elephant within the room.
"Look, (Y/N), Im sorr-" He began, awkwardly glancing down towards the surface of the table, obviously attempting to avoid her scrutiny.
However, Leland was quickly interrupted.
"Its okay." The woman had quickly interjected, halting Coyle from properly concluding his previous sentence.
She had failed to even slightly alter her position in front of the sink, not even subtly glancing over her shoulder towards Leland. She was acting as if the entire situation was no big deal, not even important enough to detach her attention away from washing the dishes.
Yet, Leland wouldn't except such a claim. Obviously, what had occurred the prior night was not okay, as the young woman had declared. In fact, it was possibly the farthest thing from alright. Coyle had been rude, disrespectful, and rather inappropriate.
However, in all honesty, Coyle wasn't concerned about the young woman and her own comfort. Instead, he was worried about his life, the relationship between himself and his own son, and even his stable career. If the young girl had whispered even one detail about their previous interaction to anyone at all, Leland's entire existence would be ruined. So, for the sake of his own comfort and ego, Leland desired some form of confirmation. He required reassurance, to genuinely be informed that the young woman was not upset and she would refrain from involving Michael. He needed to believe that she wasn't angry, that he was no longer required to worry.
"No, it's not." He began once more, speaking quickly, in order to keep the young woman from possibly interrupting him again. And as he perceived the audio of her voice humming to life, Leland became rather desperate. "Please, just let me-" He released an exhausted sigh, attempting to compose himself. In all honesty, Leland was not accustomed to the act of properly apologizing "About last night, Im sorry. I don't know what came over me but it was fucked up. I shouldn't have done that to ya."
It was silent for a moment, unnervingly so, whilst the young woman mentally contemplated his statement. And after a few seconds of intense anticipation, she finally turned towards Coyle, disposing of the damp dish upon the drying rack in order to properly focus her attention. To display the fact that she was actually listening, not just simply ignoring him.
As she shifted her attention, Leland was swiftly greeted by the soft grin etched across the young woman's features, a smile that was both gentle and tender. Her vision was laced with compassion and a subtle rosy hue glazed her cheeks, as if she was genuinely the least bit upset.
As a result of such a gentle expression, a shiver spiraled down the officer's spine. Coyle wasn't accustomed to such kindness. In fact, he was much more familiar with receiving anger, frustration, and fury from others. A thought instantly burrowed itself within the back of his mind; So accustomed to others behaving both fake and passive aggressive towards him, Leland wondered if she was simply pretending, supporting a false persona of chivalry in order to gain his trust, before ultimately attacking when he least expected it.
"Like I said, Mr. Coyle: It's really okay. Nothing even happened." She simply stated, tilting her head in a blatant display of sincerity. Within the same manner a dog might act extremely adorable in order to gain its owners sympathy.
He felt his brows furrow in confusion, his head slightly rearing backwards in perplexity. What the fuck was she even talking about? Of course something had happened. Did she even remember what had occurred the previous evening?
"What? (Y/N), do you even remem-" Leland began, his voice becoming rather stern as he attempted to confront the young woman.
If she genuinely hadn't remembered, then Coyle would certainly be blowing his cover within that moment. Typically, he would attempt to erase the evidence of his mistakes, physically forcing people to forget each and every one of his errors. Yet, something about the young woman made him feel responsible, liable for owning up to his actions, and required to mend the situation. The young woman somehow managed to alter Leland's entire personality. Before, he had lacked any form of empathy, only focused upon himself, dismissing how his actions may have affected those around him. Yet, within regards to his own son's girlfriend, Coyle suddenly felt obligated to fix things, determined to avoid possibly upsetting the young woman. Even if it meant possibly disgracing himself.
However, when the young woman suddenly directed a rather pointed glare within Leland's direction, he instantly shut up.
"Oh." He mumbled.
Once he had obviously accepted her suggestion, with a kind smile and a soft hum, the young woman shifted back towards the sink, the water being revived as she continued her previous ministrations.
Yet, for some reason, Coyle still felt extremely paranoid. His previous anxiety had not been relieved. As if he was too afraid to even contemplate removing himself from the situation, Leland failed to rise from his seat and venture into the confines of the living room, as he normally would have done following each and every meal. Instead, he remained idle, the lingering sensation of dread continuing to consume him as he silently observed the young woman cleansing the dirty dishes.
However, his rather awkward and nervous behaviors did not go unnoticed by the young woman. She was aware of the reality that he was quietly observing her. She failed to perceive the audio of him rising from his seat and lumbering into the other room. Instead, it sounded as if he had completely froze. Even the audio of his inhales had failed to successfully enter her ears. Was he even breathing?
Although she had confirmed that she was not upset, it obviously wasn't enough to properly reassure Coyle.
"Okay." She finally turned to him with a sigh, drying her damp hands upon the available towel as she concluded washing the dishes "If it makes you feel any better, I wont tell Michael. I promise."
Leland had remained idle within his seat, just as she had expected. His figure was directed towards her own, with his knees spread as he sat upright within his chair. However, as he accepted her claim, Coyle visibly relaxed. She observed as his shoulders slouched, his back slowly rested against the seat, and a soft grin infiltrated his features. And for some reason, perceiving the invisible wave of comfort wash over him had caused the young woman to smile in return.
"I mean, nothing happened anyway. Theres nothing to tell. The two of us just went to bed and that was that." She grinned, not even a hint of doubt glazing her features.
In response to the young woman's statement, Coyle was unable to deny the soft buzz of affection that had suddenly engulfed his chest. A warmth of appreciation that caused his skin to tingle and his heart to flutter.
She had every right to inform Michael. In fact, she probably should have. His son should have been aware of the manner in which his own father had treated the young woman, his girlfriend, within such a disgusting way.
Yet, she had refrained from spreading such knowledge.
The young woman was obviously protecting something, presumably the fragile relationship between a father and his son. Or, she was defending something else entirely, a covert option that was much more sinister and rather agreeable within Lelands mind. But, for the sake of his son, along with his own sanity, Coyle forced himself to dismiss such a possibility. He would not allow himself to search any further into such a situation, no matter how much such an enjoyable notion might plague his thoughts during his restless nights, when the young woman was located only a few doors down the hall, completely alone and utterly vulnerable.
That answer was seemingly sufficient enough to finally allow Leland to rise from his seat, displaying his approval through a soft smirk and a gentle nod, before he ventured into the living room.
Similar to the night prior, Coyle had situated himself within the comfort of his beloved arm chair, nursing a beer within one palm and an endless cycle of cigarettes within the other, as he observed yet another Western film being broadcast upon a random station. The sensation of satisfaction and delight had failed to properly dissolve from Leland's system, causing him to view the television screen with a rather fond grin, chuckling lightly to himself whenever a rather corny joke was executed throughout the movie. And just like the evening before, he would occasionally glance over his shoulder, observing something much more satisfying compared to the cowboys and horses being displayed upon the screen: The young woman tending to the kitchen. Maintaining his kitchen.
No longer supporting her daily outfit of a formal skirt and a soft sweater, the young woman was now provided with the comfort of her evening gown. It was a rather cute sleep dress, a baby doll style night gown with a mid length skirt and an off the shoulder top. The clothing article possessed a rouge hue, with lavender stripes adorning the fabric, each line perfectly spaced apart.
It appeared as if the young woman possessed a little quirk that revealed itself whenever she cleaned: As she managed the accumulated mess, the young woman would bound through the kitchen, executing gentle twirls and humming beneath her breath. She murmured the tune of a song Leland wasn't quite aware of as she organized the cutlery within their respective drawers, returned the separate plates to the correct cabinets, and hung each pot and pan upon the provided rack. It was as if she had been transported into her own little world whenever she cleaned, entirely blissful and completely detached from the her surroundings. The young woman seemed euphoric.
Coyle observed her rather adorable movements, perceived her gentle humming, and viewed the rather relaxed expression etched across her features, as if she had not yet experienced the stress of the adult world, all whilst a smirk of admiration adorned his lips.
However, once the young woman had finally concluded cleaning the kitchen, thats when the evening had begun to alter. Compared to the previous night, when the pair had immediately returned to their respective rooms once the meal had concluded, this evening was different.
Following their shared meal, Coyle did what he always had: Ventured into the living room in order to resume yet another Western film. He consumed his beer and enjoyed a cigarette, searching for any form of relaxation following a rather strenuous day of work.
Yet, the young woman did not disappear into Michael's room, distancing herself from her boyfriend's father, in order to obtain some alone time, as she had done yesterday. Instead, the young woman ventured into the living room as well, flopping down onto the couch.
Of course, Coyle mourned the view he had been greeted with the previous afternoon, returning home to the young woman basking within his backyard, supporting the modesty provided by only a small bathing suit whilst she enjoyed the contents of a random novel. Leland wondered what his neighbors had assumed.
Mrs. Miller was the woman who possessed the home located directly beside Coyle's house. It was a craftsman style home that she worked tirelessly to maintain. Lacking the assistance her husband should have offered (Mr. Miller was a rather lazy man, typically remaining concealed within the confines of the house in order to drink all day), it was Mrs. Miller's responsibility to manage all of the yard work. Coyle often wondered why anyone would ever marry a man similar to Mr. Miller. Just as it was a woman's responsibility to maintain the home, it was a mans responsibility to tend to the yard work.
Now that she was retired, the old woman did nothing but garden and involve herself within other people's business. Upon multiple different occasions, Coyle had perceived her participating within a rather foolish chore, such as sweeping the driveway or aimlessly adjusting the decorative rocks, in order to snoop upon the argument between the younger couple located across the street.
Mrs. Miller was rather obsessed with spying upon her neighbors. Therefore, Leland wouldn't have been surprised if she had perceived the young woman's presence from the opposite side of the fence, the boundary that separated his lawn from her own. She was a rather smart woman, as much as Coyle hated to admit it, and she was intelligent enough to confirm that Michael's car was absent before jumping to her own, sly conclusion.
Mr. Cooper was situated upon the other side of Coyle's home, within a rather fancy tudor house that he was rich enough to purchase a maid to maintain. Following his wife's passing, Mr. Cooper had become somewhat of a pervert, sitting upon his front lawn every morning, just to watch the local wives participate within their morning jogs. Mr. Cooper was the epitome of a stereotypical old creep, an aging man who gained some sort of satisfaction from observing much younger woman participate within daily activities. Christ, that man probably got hard just from the simple display of the young woman located a few houses down getting into her car before leaving for work.
Maybe Mr. Cooper had perceived Michael's girlfriend from the second floor of his home, peering at her from his bedroom window with a rather devious grin, probably assuming that Leland had managed to obtain a hot and young lover. Maybe Mr. Cooper had allowed his gaze to linger for a bit too long, permitting his vision to wander and his mind to fantasize, just as Coyle would have done if he was situated within Mr. Cooper's position. However, for some reason, such a disturbing image had caused Leland to become furious, and slightly nauseous as well. An odd reaction that he didn't desire to further consider the reason behind.
However, as much as Coyle mourned the vision of the young woman situated within her bathing suit, in all honesty, he had concluded that the current situation was just as favorable as well. If not better.
The young woman had flopped down onto the sofa, an English arm roll style couch that was positioned directly to the left of Leland's beloved arm chair. She had situated herself within a rather relaxed position, laying upon her side, her head located within her palm as her right arm acted as some sort of support beam beneath her skull. Her legs were extended down the length of the sofa, exposing the vast expanse of her smooth flesh. The mere sight of her soft thighs caused the memory of the previous evening, with his hands splayed across her legs, to flicker within Leland's mind. An image that Coyle swiftly dismissed with a gentle shake of his head, as if to physically rid the thought from his brain.
The pair were silent for a moment, pretending as if everything was completely normal whilst the sound of gun shots and horses whinnying echoed from the television. Like it wasn't strange for Coyle to be enjoying a beer whilst his son's girlfriend sat beside him, the house completely empty, the young woman supporting nothing but a silky night gown.
And for some reason, Leland just couldn't seem to focus upon the film, no matter how hard he tried.
"Mr. Coyle?" The young woman suddenly exclaimed after about five minutes of shared silence between the two.
Leland glanced towards her through the corner of his vision, observing the young woman within the most covert manner possible. He secretly gazed towards Michael's girlfriend, failing to properly turn his head, in order to avoid possible detection.
However, the young woman wasn't as naive as Coyle had previously assumed, due to the fact that her own irises suddenly connected with his own, her head shifting as she blatantly returned his gaze. An unexpected movement that caused Leland to swiftly divert his attention back towards the television before him. His rather frantic and awkward reaction was probably much more suspicious than he had intended.
"Hmm?" He hummed, his vocalization muffled against the lip of the beer bottle as he attempted to appear completely normal and the least bit skeptical. All whilst his heart hammered relentlessly within the confines of his chest.
Leland perceived the reality that the young woman was actively fiddling with the hem of her dress, a nervous reaction that revealed her covert anxiety. And Coyle just couldn't seem to dismiss the sensation of satisfaction that suddenly infiltrated his system. Just as he was nervous around her, his simple presence had caused the young woman to become anxious as well. Something about the two of them alone, lacking the barrier provided by Michael, caused the pair to become rather awkward together. And Leland enjoyed the fact that he obviously intimidated her.
"Have you ever shot someone?" She inquired, her voice both low and timid, so quiet that Coyle almost couldn't hear her.
Such a question had caused his breath to hitch within Leland's throat. That had been the very last thing he had expected the young woman to ask about. For such a shy and timid young woman, Coyle had assumed she wouldn't even consider such a possibility, never the less actually inquire about it. Such a topic was rather inappropriate and unlady like for a woman of her age to even contemplate.
Yet, Leland couldn't deny the reality that he was rather intrigued by the young woman's confusing nature. One moment, she was both meek and quiet, executing all of her female responsibilities and acting just as a young lady is expected to. But the next, she asking about violence and death. She could be sly, joke with Coyle, and even agree to retain rather important information from her boyfriend, Leland's own son. Maybe he should have been more irritated, scolding her for her rather immature question and teach her the importance of proper femininity. But instead, Coyle was rather amused.
The officer was stunned for a moment, briefly choking upon his beverage as the liquid became captured within his throat. He expected the young woman to back down, to recant her previous inquiry or some how clarify her claim. Yet, she didn't. Instead, she simply continued to gaze towards him, her expression rather expectant, silently filled with anticipation, vision laced with slight confusion as a result of his rather extreme reaction.
"Yes." The officer finally confirmed once he had regained his composure and successfully cleared his throat.
He could perceive her silhouette through his peripheral vision, her frame rather small as she curled in upon herself, obviously extremely nervous, even rather flustered. He was unable to ignore the slight smirk of satisfaction that began to tug upon his lips, due to the fact that she was so intimidated by his mere existence. The young woman was acting as if there was a gun currently pointed against her temple, rather than the reality that the pair were simply observing a Western film within the comfort of the dimly lit living room.
"Sorry if this is far too forward but... What happened?" She further added.
Coyle paused for a moment, glancing wearily towards her through the corner of his vision. He was searching for any sign of regret, maybe a slight twist of her lips or a subtle squeeze of her eyes, to confirm that she didn't actually desire to perceive the truth. Yet, when he was simply met with her rather expectant gaze, no sign of doubt present, he apprehensively continued.
Obviously, there was no way he was actually going to reveal the truth: The fact that he had both shot and killed numerous people for a variety of varying reasons, from rational to unwarranted. The reality that he had murdered all of his previous lovers for seemingly no good reason. That he killed men every chance he obtained. No, of course he wouldn't reveal such a fact.
Instead, he resorted to a much more honorable excuse.
"He was an active threat." Leland finally decided to state, a reasonable explanation that most people wouldn't search for further confirmation within.
Others would have just accepted such a claim for exactly what it was: A simple answer. Most people wouldn't have pushed for further information, within the same manner then his peers would awkwardly nod whenever Coyle revealed that Michael's mother had mysteriously passed. Anyone else would have simply hummed their approval before dismissing the topic entirely, remaining polite as they avoided such an uncomfortable subject.
Yet, when Leland glanced towards the young woman once more, he soon discovered that the expression of anticipation had failed to disappear from her features. She wasn't like most people, that was becoming increasingly obvious. She was actively awaiting the further details of such a claim, failing to avoid any topic that even slightly upset her. She was curious, intrigued, and appeared completely devoted to whatever Leland was about to exclaim. Like he was prepared to reveal the secrets of the universe to her, and the young woman was entirely attentive.
Coyle released a rather exasperated sigh as he repositioned himself within the arm chair. He was obviously expected to continue. For some reason, he was unable to deny the young woman whenever she displayed such a silently pleading gaze within his direction. The same countenance an adorable little puppy might support whilst begging for food. Therefore, Leland was now required to create a rather believable claim, rather than simply admitting that he had murdered many people, simply for his own enjoyment.
"I was jus' startin' my job at the time, only a deputy. We had received a report about a man with a gun in the woods. I guess an elderly couple had seen him, walking through the woods with nothin' but a pistol. Not even his clothes, and for the sake of both their lives and his own, they had reached out for help. And I was the first one on the scene."
As he began to speak, Coyle quickly realized that the "story he had just conjured up" wasn't just a fairytale. No. Instead, it was true. Everything he was about to reveal had actually occurred.
Sure, Leland had both shot and killed many men throughout the years, whether he was within the army, working as an officer, or even for his own pleasure. But this was different, not just a story that he had simply created upon a whim in order to maintain his own reputation.
Of course, he could have relied upon a much more charming tale, a false claim that he had shot down a group of armed robbers attacking an orphanage, something that would have made him out to be a hero, rather than a deranged maniac. But for some unknown reason, Leland found himself resorting to the truth, a story that was emotional, deep, and honest. A memory that was rather vulnerable, a momentary falter within the assured and confident facade he typically supported.
"I found him first, walkin' aimlessly through the woods within the middle of the night. And sure as shit, he was naked as the day he was born." Coyle consumed an inhale from his cigarette before continuing "He seemed outta it, kinda distant. Detached, ya know? Like he could see somethin' no one else could; anyway, I tried to get his attention, callin' out to him and even flashin' him with my light. But he just seemed... Lost. Literally and figuratively."
The young woman's expression was sincere, her brows furrowing as she listened carefully to each of his words, completely absorbed by the mere sound of his voice. She wasn't just hearing the words, allowing them to enter through one ear and exit out the other. This wasn't a simple conversation shared as a result of politeness. No. Instead, she was actually listening. Something about her unfaltering attention, the fact that she appeared so focused, caused Coyle to become rather flustered. He wasn't accustomed to his stories being genuinely consumed, unfamiliar with the act of sharing his true emotions. And the young woman's sincere devotion made him become hesitant, briefly stuttering through his words and occasionally pausing.
"He was wavin' the gun around, kinda haphazardly. Not really aiming, just kinda flailing his arms. I tried to calm him down, tellin' him that he needed to put the gun down so I could help him. Sayin' that he might hurt someone doin' that. But he didn't quite like that. It's like my reassurance had some how broken the barrier, gettin' his attention." He nervously sipped on his beer, focusing distantly upon the carpet beneath his feet. Coyle was aware of the fact that he would surely lose confidence the second he even briefly glanced towards the young woman. Something about her genuine attention made him feel nervous, uncomfortable even. "So, he turned the gun on me."
It was as if the whole world had suddenly become dead silent. It was so quiet, Leland swore he could perceive the audio of his own blood actively pulsing through his veins. For a moment, he wondered if he had accidentally gone deaf. The only reason he knew that hadn't been the case was due to the fact that he could hear he young woman shifting upon the couch beside him, the cushions crunching beneath her weight and the fabric of her night gown slightly rustling.
"At this point, some other guys had arrived, a few other deputies, sergeants. Hell, even the damn sheriff. It's not often we get a call about a naked maniac with a gun." Leland chuckled, attempting to even slightly dissolve the intensity looming over his shoulders. Yet, the young woman had failed to reciprocate, remaining completely serious "My boss, Sheriff Smith, he tried to deescalate the guy, tellin' him to calm down, to lower the gun and all that. But he just wouldn't. And I could see it on his face, he wasn't gonna listen. I know he was gonna shoot me. I knew it then and I still know it now. He just had that look, ya know? I think somethin' was up with him, somethin' mentally. No sane person would point a gun at an officer. So, I gave him my final warning, telling him to lower the gun or I would have to shoot. And well... He didn't lower the gun."
Leland wasn't required to continue any further, the young woman was obviously smart enough to piece together the rest.
By now, it was quiet again, only the soft thrum of hooves against dirt echoing from the television. Coyle wasn't really sure how to continue the conversation following such a serious topic. So, he resorted to what he knew best, the only thing that could properly calm his nerves within that moment: He stubbed out the remainder of his cigarette upon the nearby ash tray before immediately lighting a new one.
Leland was a chain smoker, this was a well known fact. He smoked cigarettes within the same manner others breathed air to survive. But this was different. During this specific occasion, it wasn't just a force of habit. This was the result of dependence. He required something, anything, to dull his increasing nerves.
He situated the new cigarette between his lips, guiding the lighter up towards his mouth in order to properly ignite the fuse.
"Mr. Coyle? May I ask you something else?" The young woman spoke as he flicked the lighter, the warm illumination of the small flame glowing against his features within the darkness of the living room.
He inhaled as he ignited the fuse, puffing out a few exhales in order to confirm that it was properly lit.
"Please, call me Leland. I just told ya about how I shot and killed a guy, no need for this formal Mr. Coyle shit." He chuckled.
Although it was an obvious attempt towards some light hearted teasing, the young woman did not reward him with her own variation of laughter. Instead, she hesitated for a moment, audibly shifting upon the couch once more, as if she was too nervous to remain dormant for even a singular second.
"Okay..." She paused, as if mentally working up the courage "Leland, may I try a cigarette?"
The sound of his name upon her lips was like music to his ears, similar to the sound of the angels descending from the heavens whilst humming their hypnotizing melody. The audio of his own title glazed within her honey-like voice, rather than the signature "Mr. Coyle" she had become so seemingly fond of, caused the infamous warmth to return to Leland's chest.
Now that question had captured Coyle's attention, within a very different manner compared to her first inquiry.
He furrowed his brows as he shifted his focus within the young woman's attention, no longer concerned regarding the action of creating direct eye contact.
Leland was concerned he might have heard her wrong, maybe confused some of her words with similar phrases. She could have asked to change the channel or excused herself to bed, but his mind had accidentally failed him. Yet, with the way she was staring towards him, her features lacking even the slightest hint of regret, Coyle was soon informed of the reality that his ears had not mistaken him.
There was two ways in which Leland could go about the situation.
Option one: He could say no. He could do the responsible thing and reject her request. He could explain that it was a nasty habit that he wouldn't allow her to possess. He could educate her of all the risks and danger that accompanies the act of smoking.
Or, option two: He could agree. She was nineteen after all, old enough to make such a decision upon her own. If this was what she truly desired, then who was he to stop her? After all, he wasn't her dad, he couldn't tell her what to do. Reasonably, nothing was stopping her to going to the store and buying her own pack if he had ultimately disagreed. So why not properly teach her? He couldn't allow the young woman to purchase some shitty, sissy tobacco. No, certainly not. She deserved the good stuff that he smoked.
However, Lelands ultimate decision wasn't a result of moral conflict, contemplating between the responsible choice or the mature option. Instead, his decision was due entirely to his own desires, yearning to observe her plush lips wrapped around the base, his cigarette situated within her mouth. Something about it just felt so primal, so vulgar. Something of his between her lips.
"Alright." He had ultimately responded, nodding slightly, in order to reveal his agreement, before finally extending his arm across the expanse of space situated between the arm chair and the edge of the sofa.
However, the young woman had failed to crawl across the length of the couch and collect the cigarette. She did not reach towards his hand and acquire the smoke from his grasp. Instead, she became visibly flustered, fiddling with the hem of her dress once more whilst her vision awkwardly avoided the scrutiny of his own.
"Come on, girl. Yer wasting a perfectly good smoke here." Coyle teased, attempting to lighten the mood, assuming she was simply nervous regarding such a large decision. A choice that could alter her entire life.
The young woman did not dismiss his joke as she had previously, ignoring his laughter and responding with simple silence. Instead, she managed to respond with a giggle of her own, obviously becoming much more relaxed within his presence as they spent more and more time together. She was becoming a lot less tense and much more comfortable as the minutes ticked by.
"Uhm, to be honest, Leland..." She paused, her timid vision finally dancing up to meet his own, peering at him through her thick lashes "Ive never really done this before."
And God, such a claim was like some sort of celestial music to his ears. The fact that this would be her first time smoking made Coyle feel special, memorable even. He would do anything to be apart of such an important occasion within the young woman's life.
Furthermore, that exact sentence paired with the sound of his own name upon her tongue caused a silent growl to vibrate within the depths of his chest, a primal noise, something territorial and long forgotten. He desired nothing more than to perceive those exact words once more, but rather than when she sat situated upon the couch, but whilst she was located beneath his figure instead, her features flushed and her vision nervous, just as she appeared within that exact moment.
"Alright then, come here. I'll teach ya." He responded, gesturing for her to join him with a slight wave of his arm.
Just like the obedient young woman she was, she had done just that. She crawled from the sofa, crept across the carpet, and stood before Leland, her hands nervously clasped across her stomach, as if she wasn't quite sure what do to with her arms.
"Like this." Coyle mumbled.
The officer brought the cigarette to his lips once more, pinching it between his fingers as he inhaled, consuming a large breath as the smoke drifted through his lungs, a rather relaxing sensation he had grown so familiar with over the years. And after a few seconds, he removed the cigarette from his mouth, held in the smoke, before finally exhaling, allowing the dark fog to slowly escape from the depths of his throat.
All whilst their vision remained completely connected, without even a singular moment of failure. It was intense, heated, and somewhat passionate.
"Now yer turn." Coyle finally stated, his voice much more low and gruff than he had previously expected.
Leland displayed the cigarette a few inches in front of his face. His arm was no longer extended within a presenting motion. Instead, it was much more of an attracting action, as if he was attempting to literally lure the young woman closer. He wasn't exactly sure why he had failed to just offer the young woman the cigarette, to simply hand it to her, but he cant exactly say that he was upset with the results.
In response, the young woman leaned forward, bracing her figure with the usage of her palm splayed upon his thigh. This obviously wasn't her intent, and in all honesty, she appeared completely unaware of such a gesture. However, Coyle surely wasn't. As soon as her fingers had connected with the fabric covered expanse of his leg, it was as if an electric current had suddenly exploded throughout his veins.
Additionally, she situated her other hand around his own, clasping her dainty fingers around his knuckles, obviously attempting to steady the cigarette as she brought it towards her lips. The sight of her small palm wrapped around his much larger hand caused Leland to bite down upon his lower lip, as if he was attempting to cage something feral and primal that was threatening to escape.
Now, the pair were only mere inches apart, their vision completely connected as she wrapped her lips around the cigarette and began to inhale.
At first, her reaction was a bit rough. When the young woman finally detached her mouth from the cigarette, she failed to cough, obviously attempting to appear both composed and cool in front of the officer as she forcefully contained the smoke within her lungs. However, as soon as she released her breath, the young woman instantly started to hack.
Something about the sight, the young woman struggling to properly control herself, fighting to accept the smoke, the momentary display of her vulnerability, caused a rather amused smile to inch across Leland's lips. Yet, he wasn't ignorant to the slight smirk that graced the young woman's features as well throughout the length of her coughing fit, she too was obviously aware of the rather candid moment they were actively sharing. A situation that a father and his son's girlfriend should obviously not be participating in. Something much more intimate and personal compared to before.
"Aww come on, that was barely nothin'." Coyle objected as the young woman shook her head in disapproval, slightly giggling beneath her breath "Try again, jus' once more."
Once she had finally composed her breathing, her hacking slowly encountering its conclusion, the young woman steadied her features, her soft smirk slowly melting from her face as she gazed towards him one more. There was a hint of softness glazing her vision, something both gentle and tender, as if there was a rather intense thought she was struggling to contain.
And just as Leland had expected, she obeyed.
Once again, the young woman leaned forward, one palm braced upon Leland's thigh, and the other wrapped around his fingers, steadying the cigarette. However, Coyle found himself searching for some sort of support as well, but not due to the odd position. No. Instead, a result of his mental concern. For a moment, Leland worried that if he didn't properly ground himself, he might begin to float away.
Instinctually, he reached his left hand forward, gently grasping at the young woman's upper back, as if he was attempting to physically support her as well. And as the young woman wrapped her lips around the cigarette once again, Coyle found himself gently caressing her shoulders, his fingers carefully laced within her soft hair, tenderly stroking her locks, as if to somehow comfort her, to help her properly relax.
"Thats it, girl. Relax." Leland whispered, quietly observing her through each step: Her eyes closed, brows furrowed within focus, and lips suckling lightly upon the cigarette.
When she finally detached her mouth once more, the young woman did just as she had been instructed. She contained the smoke within her lungs for a few moments before eventually releasing a breath. With this exhale, she had failed to cough, no longer hacking against the smoke infiltrating her lungs. Instead, she ejected the smoke, causing the fog to dance across Lelands features.
For the remainder of the evening, the pair were situated within the living room, watching Western film after cowboy movie until the late hours of the night. Much later than Coyle typically preferred, due to the fact that he was required to wake early the following morning. However, as the young woman positioned herself by his feet, and whilst the two of them repeatedly passed the cigarette back and forth, sharing it amongst each other, he just couldn't seem to bring himself to object. Besides, Leland wasn't really tired anyway.
Summary: You are dating Leland's son. Your boyfriend asks you to tend to his childhood home for a few days, while him and his father go on a trip for about a week. Completely prepared to simply manage the house for seven days (possessing an empty home to do whatever you please), you soon figure out that things hadn't gone exactly as planned.
Warnings: Age gap, alcohol, drinking, misogyny, jealousy, inappropriate actions, perverted behaviors, obsession, and mentions of: The police, cigarettes, smoking, violence, cheating, death, weapons, suggestive statements, and sexual acts.
Word Count: 7,680
(Part Two)
Coyle had spent the entire day simply patrolling around town. Sure, it was better than just sitting within his office completing paper work, but that didn't take away from the reality that it was completely boring. The officer had spent hours aimlessly driving around the area, occasionally halting someone for speeding, but mostly just lounging within his vehicle. Sometimes, he'd purchase some sort of food or simply listen the radio, but nothing he would consider even relatively exciting.
After a long, grueling day of work, practically just waiting for something to occur, Leland had finally returned home. The cruiser pulled into the driveway with a squeaking halt, the radio completely silent as the officer shifted the car into park. Coyle released a rather exacerbated sigh as he brought his hands through his hair, completely disregarding his cap upon the passenger seat as he allowed his figure to slouch against the cushion. He relaxed his skull against the head rest as he attempted to regain his composure, gazing aimlessly towards the ceiling of the vehicle. The cop was entirely exhausted, with his feet aching, legs worn, and his mind completely drained. He yearned for nothing more than to march inside and collapse directly onto his bed.
Typically, following the conclusion of his shift, Leland would trudge into his house and immediately kick off his boots before finally enjoying a rather relaxing cigarette upon the rear porch, allowing the audio of summer birds and the subtle wind to gracefully calm him.
However, as his head lulled forwards and he peered towards the front porch of his home, mentally preparing himself to finally rise to his feet, a rather abnormal detail had captured his attention: The door was wide open.
Coyle was certain that he had successfully secured the entrance that morning. He specifically remembered fastening the door that morning, perceiving the audio of the latch clicking before he bound down the steps. Sure, he could easily defend himself against any sort of threat, a trained and experienced officer who was aware of the evil within this world, obviously he wasn't stupid enough to the leave the door unlocked, never mind wide open. However, as he continued to gazed towards the entrance, surveying the doorway as if it possessed the secret to the universe, he became even more confused. His brows furrowed as he released a grunt of curiosity. Maybe he had just simply forgotten?
Although, he was much less worried regarding the possibility of an intruder. Instead, he sighed at the thought of some pesky rodent venturing inside, making itself at home and welcoming itself to his food, as a result of his own carelessness. At least he could simply just shoot a robber. It would take months to properly dispose of a colony of mice or a family of procreating rats. Realistically, no one would be stupid enough to invade the home of a police officer, right?
Coyle begrudgingly pushed opened the car door, the metal squealing as the hinges squeaked beneath the weight. The afternoon sun instantly glazed his features as soon as his weary legs collided with the pavement. The intensity of the heat caused his brow to perspire and his vision to squint. He was slow to venture across the driveway, his movements heavy as he marched up the front steps and finally entered his home. However, his hesitancy was not the result of fear or unease. Instead, he was simply exhausted, his limbs worn and dragging with each movement. And he was only further irritated by the fact that he would surely be required to deal with some sort of mess after accidentally leaving the front door open.
Once Leland had properly entered his home, making sure to shut the door behind him, he paused at the entrance. Typically, he would immediately kick off his boots, remove his jacket, and wander into the kitchen in search of a refreshing beer. However, as he scrutinized the interior of the house, he soon discovered that the back door had been left wide open as well, within the same exact manner as the front entrance (with the door open but the screen properly secured, within the same fashion he would situate them upon a sweltering summer day).
Now, this surely hadn't been his mistake. Prior to his shift, he had not interacted with the back entrance at all. He had not peeked out towards the rear lawn or even fiddled with the lock. He was certain that he had not opened the back door that morning. Furthermore, he was aware of the reality that a mouse was unable to open a door as well. He obviously had an unexpected visitor.
Leland did not hesitate to traipse towards the backdoor, his steps heavy and his movements harsh, in an attempt to alert and possibly frighten his unwelcome guest. As he stormed through the screen door, Coyle was prepared to be greeted by some stupid burglar, a criminal who was foolish enough to rob the town Sargent, within broad day light at that.
However, as he arrived upon the back porch, peering across the rear lawn, the officer soon discovered that he had not experienced some sort of robbery that day. In fact, this specific guest was certainly welcome.
Coyle discovered the sight of a rather familiar young woman lounging upon a random reclining chair, basking beneath the sun and enjoying the summer warmth. A pair of sunglasses were parched upon the bridge of her nose, successfully reflecting the rays of illumination away from her vision as she perused through a novel. The officer did not possess a pool or any personal body of water, but she was situated within a bathing suit, a skimpy swim set that perfectly hugged her figure.
She supported a small bikini top and skirt-type matching bottoms, revealing the expanse of her abdomen and the length of her legs. The sun light engulfed her skin, causing a warm glow to vibrate from her form. Leland felt like some sort of sex deprived maniac within that moment, practically salivating at the mouth as a result of her exposed shoulders, dainty neck, and thin arms.
Could he be dreaming? After a long day of work, he just happens to return home to a young woman situated within his back yard, lounging beneath the sun with only the modesty provided by a rather scandalous bathing suit.
However, Leland was familiar with this specific woman, aware of her existence and informed of her name. He knew who she was: His sons girlfriend.
The cop had made a mistake almost nineteen years ago, allowing his girlfriend to become pregnant with his own child. Leland hesitantly allowing his partner to bear his kid and proceed with the birth. Sure, he was both young and naive, but he certainly wasn't ignorant towards the fear that accompanied such news. Coyle was petrified, often pleading with his lover to simply terminate the pregnancy. Yet, she would not budge. "Im having this baby, Leland, whether you like it or not." She had stated, her tone both firm and stern as he practically begged upon his hands and knees in front of her.
However, when his son, Michael, had been finally born, a new sensation had suddenly appeared within the officer's stomach, an unfamiliar and rather odd emotion: Determination. As soon as he viewed his child, perceiving the sound of his soft laughter and gentle smile, Coyle was motivated to protect his son. Immediately, he was aware of the fact that he would do anything for that baby, no matter how insane such a notion truly was.
And when he discovered his girlfriend cheating upon him, he just knew she had to go. Michael's mother had died a rather mysterious death, a passing that had been ruled as some sort of medical anomaly.
From then on, Leland raised Michael entirely on his own. He would accompany him to parent teacher meetings, support him during sport games, and assist him with homework. Coyle had raised that child into a young man, a son he was extremely proud of, especially when Michael eventually exclaimed that he wanted to be an officer, just like his father. And thats exactly what he did. Michael went off to college, studying both law and justice. And thats when his son had met his first, serious girlfriend.
Previously, Coyle had met the young woman once, maybe twice, and the view of her upon his back lawn caused a specific, and rather fond, memory immediately appear within his mind.
A few months prior, his son had been visiting from college, home for some sort of vacation, and he had brought his girlfriend along with him. Michael had planned some sort of dinner between the three, an occasion in which he could introduce his girlfriend to his own father, Leland himself.
She had been a rather shy girl, very pretty, but none the less timid. She was obviously smart, studying a rather studious degree at the same university as Michael. Occasionally, she would speak about her education or personal life, but she was generally quiet, simply nodding politely or expressing a respectful smile.
The young woman was obviously rather uneased by Coyle, intimidated by the fact that he was a police officer, with his jacket hung by the door and his cap disregarded upon the counter. She would occasionally glance towards his baton forgotten within the living room, or ask some sort of curious question regarding his career. For a girl actively dating a young man studying law, she was certainly rather nervous around such a topic.
She had been a wonderful guest, both polite and respectful within all the perfect ways. She would inquiry about Lelands career, compliment his home, and talk about herself when prompted, within the same manner every courteous visitor should behave. Even once the meal had concluded, the young woman had offered to clean the dishes and tidy the kitchen. And although Coyle had objected, stating that she was "much too kind" and he "couldn't possibly expect that of her," she had insisted. Therefore, as the officer and his son chatted, the young woman had attended to the small mess that had accumulated. She had even provided the pair with separate beers, without being asked.
In all honesty, Leland was rather impressed. He was surprised that a woman her age was capable of executing such feminine duties, without even being prompted. Coyle had previously assumed that the females of her generation were rather brash, irresponsible, and somewhat brain washed. He had observed the manner in which his coworkers daughters rejected any form of house work, denied proper manners, and completely dismissed their womanly expectations. Females were suddenly going to college, ignoring motherhood, and actually acquiring some sort of freedom. Woman these days had started to dress like men, talk like men, and act like men, and Leland couldn't have been more disturbed.
Except for her. The young woman had arrived supporting a rather modest dress, she utilized proper manners (such as saying "please" and "thank you" whenever it was expected), and she had even offered to clean. It had been a long time since Leland had observed a woman tending to his home, and he was unable to deny the fact that he rather enjoyed the vision of a young lady doing the dishes, tidying the kitchen, and managing the mess. She was all of the things a woman was expected to be, she was polite, quiet, and submissive, and Coyle was very satisfied by such a reality.
She had avoided confrontation as well, just as a polite young woman should. Leland believed that females these days were becoming much too confident, brave enough to confront their men and actually state their beliefs. It was completely absurd.
However, his son's girlfriend had been the exact opposite. Instead of defying Michael, the young woman had effortlessly dismissed each and every one of his rather inconsiderate comments. The young woman would simply laugh off all of Michael's insults, every occasion in which his son had stated "maybe I should just chain her to the washing machine, maybe then she would actually do the laundry." She would just respond with something along the lines of "You're so silly, Mikey." And when he would demand that she provide him with a new beverage, she would not hesitate to do just as she had been instructed. Coyle was rather impressed by her obedience.
However, as much as Leland was satisfied with her proper behaviors (acting both submissive and polite, as every young woman should), he was unable to ignore the sensation of frustration bubbling within his gut. Within the officer's mind, he honestly believed that the young woman was flawless, behaving exactly as a woman her age should. She would make a perfect wife and mother one day.
However, it was as if Michael possessed some sort of comment regarding each and every one of her actions. The young woman did exactly as Michael had instructed, but it was seemingly never enough. How could his own son treat such a nice young lady, a woman who had willingly agreed to be his girlfriend, with so much blatant disrespect? She was honestly perfect, with her elegant hair, sweet smile, and appropriate dress. She had willingly cleaned, was polite, and respected authority. What more could he possibly ask for? Coyle had to physically refrain himself from practically jumping over the table and teaching his son a lesson within manners, right then and there. He had certainly raised him better than that.
Leland wasn't ignorant to the manner in which she would occasionally gaze towards him, peeking across the table at him through her thick lashes. Her vision was always timid, with her features composed, and her attention completely focused, as if she was attempting to mentally decipher him. The young woman would gaze towards Coyle as if she was savoring the idea of her future meal, gaining a rather concealed, and somewhat inappropriate, view of her boyfriends father.
However, every occasion in which Leland would ultimately detect her gaze, eventually returning her stare with a matching regard of his own, she would swiftly detach her vision. The young woman would immediately stare down at the food situated in front of her, as if she had just been caught red handed. All whilst a soft, flustered blush glazed her features.
The officer was familiar with such an expression. It was the exact same gaze he would receive from infatuated woman upon the street, ladies who would adore his features, savor his satisfying appearance, and basically enjoy his entire existence. His son's girlfriend was looking at him as if she was prepared to pounce.
Coyle wasn't proud to admit it, but later that night, once Michael had finally vanished, taking his little girlfriend along with him, Leland had done some rather disgraceful things to himself at the simple thought of her soft hair and tender vision. He was completely unable to erase a rather specific image from his mind, the vision of the manner in which her dress slightly ventured up her thighs when she had stood form her seat at the end of the evening. He pictured the exposed expanse of her plush thighs as he pleasured himself, furiously stroked his cock to the memory of how she had desperately yanked at her dress as soon as she had detected Leland's ogling, and he finished to the simple fact that she had failed to regard his obvious affection. The young woman had not confronted Coyle following the many occasions in which she had caught him blatantly appreciating her existence. Instead, she had simply allowed him to continue, without any sign of objection. Certainly, she would make a perfect, obedient wife.
Leland had honestly believed that he would never once view the young woman again, that he had been introduced to her that specific evening, and that would be the end of it. The officer assumed that he would never interact with her again, due to the fact that Michael was sure to acquire a new girlfriend within the near future. His son was a rowdy teenage boy, experiencing his first taste of freedom, and there was no possible way that Michael would simply pick one girl and stick with her. No, certainly not.
Either that, or the next time Coyle would encounter the young woman was during the wedding shared between her and his own son. That is, if Michael had managed not to mess things up. She would make the perfect wife, and his son would be an absolute idiot to reject such an opportunity.
And Leland had accepted such a reality, acknowledged the fact that he would never once encounter her again (at least, not until she was formally invited into the family), and he was rather relieved by such a notion.
Leland had an awful tendency for capturing anything he even slightly desired. When he wanted something, he got it. Therefore, Coyle worried that he would be unable to ignore the rather fond sensation he was aquiring towards the young woman. He wanted that girl, that was a reality he was unable to dimiss.
Sure, Leland was a big fan of women and what they had to offer. He was a man after all, and he enjoyed both the affection and tender attention his previous lovers had provided him with. Yet, even more than that, he loved his own son. He would do anything for Michael, and the very last thing he desired was to ruin their relationship, simply because he was unable to keep his hands off of anything he wanted, including his own son's girlfriend. Leland was aware of the fact that he was rather smitten with the young woman, and the very last thing he wanted was to become a victim to his own urges, to collect the young woman as yet another notch upon his belt, and in return, ultimately ruin his relationship between himself and his own son.
Therefore, he had been rather satisfied by the idea of completely forgetting the young woman, to ignore the fact that she had ever once step foot into his life, and to completely move on. If he were to never observe her again, then he wouldn't have to worry about making a mistake he would certainly regret within the future.
Yet, like some sort of persistent ghost, the young woman had returned. Displayed before his vision, she was lounging within his backyard, basking beneath the warmth provided by the sun, without a singular sign of Michael. She was all alone, lacking the proper protection provided by another individual, someone to defend her against the starving monster located only a few yards away, silently observing her. With such a skimpy bathing suit none the less, yet another outfit that would surely haunt his dreams that following night, a small top and matching bottoms that would cause him to awake with a pit of guilt situated within his stomach, along with a new pair of ruined boxers.
This was bad.
"(Y/N)?" Coyle had inquired as he pushed through the screen door, venturing onto the back porch, his uniform boots thumping against he hard wood with every step he executed.
The audio of the screen door squealing open, along with the sound of heavy footsteps, had seemingly startled the young woman. She had immediately jolted within her chair, swift to bound up to her feet, as if she was standing at attention. Upon viewing Leland's presence, the young woman quickly disregarded her novel, allowing the book to topple onto the grass beside her. As she rose to her feet, the young woman instantly reached for the available towel, attempting to properly conceal her exposed figure. She obviously had not been expecting any guests either.
"M-Mr. Coyle!" She had swiftly responded, her high pitched tone laced with a mixture of shock, surprise, and slight confusion "I-Im so sorry. Michael said you'd be out of town this week."
This had been true; Leland and his son had scheduled a tip, an adventure in which the pair of them would travel to Florida, in order to visit Michael's grandmother. She was Michael's mother's mom, his grandmother upon the maternal side. And despite the fact that she had obviously disliked Leland, she was an old woman, slowly reaching her final days, and visiting was the respectful thing to do.
She had always loathed Coyle, believing that he was not best suited for her daughter. And maybe that had been correct. No matter if Michael was present or not, the older woman would openly express her hatred towards Leland. When Michael's mother had mysteriously passed, his mother in law was not afraid to voice her opinions, stating that her daughter would still be alive if she had never met Coyle. And that was certainly true as well.
However, things hadn't gone exactly as planned. Even though Leland had requested that specific week off of work, explaining that he was required to visit his mother in law, he had ultimately been scheduled. Yet, he wasn't very upset regarding such a reality. In fact, he was rather relieved. He did not actually desire to visit Michael's grandmother, it was honestly just for his son.
Although, he had still convinced Michael to go, to have fun in Florida and actually spend sometime with his grandmother, before she ultimately passed. And Michael had agreed. Therefore, as his son spent a week within the warmth of the Southern state, basking upon random beaches, and probably partying and getting drunk every single night, Coyle had remained home. But, he wasn't very distressed. In all honesty, he was rather delighted. It was just another year he wouldn't be required to visit that sour old bitch, constantly perceiving the manner in which she would openly both reprimand and scold him, all whilst Leland was simply expected to smile and nod, to remain polite and respect his elders.
"He offered for me to watch the house while the two of you were gone. I didn't know you'd be here. Im s-sorry, I-I can go." The young woman stuttered, evidently embarrassed and rather awkward.
Leland simply observed her for a moment, silent and motionless as he considered his options.
Either: He could demand that she leave, command her to vanish, and basically kick her out of his home. He could scold the young woman, explaining that it was extremely disrespectful to just invite yourself into someone else's house, without properly confirming such an arrangement.
Or: He could let her stay.
Sure, it might be considered odd to allow her to stay, permitting his sons girlfriend to remain present, even though Michael wasn't even here. After all, he hadn't actually left. The trip had seemingly been canceled for Leland, and he would be home to tend to his own house.
However, a womanly presence within the home could be nice, someone to cook, clean, and do the laundry whilst he was at work. Following Michael's mother's mysterious death, Coyle had struggled with the overwhelming amount of house work he was now responsible for. He was not prepared for the extreme amount of tidying, organizing, and tending he was suddenly expected to do. Along with the fact that he was now responsible for raising a child, all by himself. Those had all been things his late wife had managed, nothing he ever had to worry about.
The help could be nice, someone else to make him a proper dinner, an individual present to destroy all of the accumulated dust, a person who could prepare his clothing and pack him a lunch before work. She could just remain present in order to assist him. At least, thats what Coyle had convinced himself of.
"No- no." Leland had swiftly responded, his words both frantic and desperate, as if he was actively begging for his own life. His rather distraught behaviors, tossing his hands forwards, like he was attempting physically halt the young woman, had caused her to instantly freeze, similar to a stunned deer situated before the illumination of advancing head lights. "No, you can stay. It would nice to have some help around here, especially when Im at work most days."
The young woman was visibly hesitant, completely unprepared for such an offer. In all honesty, she had expected Leland to simply kick her out, to direct her back towards her own home, due to the fact that he had not actually participated within the journey. There was no actual reason for her to maintain the home anymore, now that Coyle was available to tend to the house, just as he had been doing for the past nineteen years.
Yet, he had not. Leland failed to demand her exit or force her to vanish. Instead, he had requested that she stay.
The young woman was reasonably shocked, gazing towards the officer as if he had just spoken a completely different and foreign language. It was now her turn to quietly contemplate the available options.
As the silence persisted, Leland was unable to dismiss the rather nervous flush that had started to adorn his features. Maybe that had been wrong. Surely, it was an inappropriate request, to offer for his son's girlfriend, a woman much younger than himself, to accompany him for the week, all alone. Obviously, he shouldn't have said anything. Coyle should have just shut the fuck up and allowed her to leave. That would have been the normal and mature reaction.
But, what was done was done. Leland had exclaimed that fateful statement, and there was no taking it back. And how was she expected to reject such an offer? He was her boyfriends father, her superior, a man of authority, and he had just requested that she stay, to help him around the house whilst he was at work. It must have been hard for him to maintain the home, all whilst raising a child, all by himself. He surely deserved some sort of break. It would be rude to decline such a proposal, right?
"O-Okay." She had finally muttered, her vision awkwardly dancing towards the ground below her, nervously disconnecting their shared eye contact.
After all, she was already there. The young woman did not yet possess a car of her own, Michael had been kind enough to drop her off earlier. There was no possible way she could return home now, without utilizing a ride from Leland, which would surely be an awkward trip, or paying an astronomical amount of money for a taxi. At that point, she had seemingly excepted her fate. This was a good opportunity to become closer with her boyfriend's father anyway.
As she stood before Coyle, visibly nervous and extremely timid, the officer was unable to dismiss the reality that she was extremely adorable. With her shy demeanor, the visible rosy hue currently adorning her features, and the reality that she appeared extremely awkward whilst situated in front of him, such details greatly pleased Leland. The vision reminded the older man of a meek little bunny, quivering before a predator, attempting to utilize its cute appearance as some sort of persuasion tactic.
Her hair glimmered beneath the sun, her thin figure upon complete display, and her skin was utterly flawless, not yet affected by the tests of time. Compared to the woman Leland had became intimate with in the past, the young woman was similar to some sort of Goddess. Within his mind, she was absolutely perfect. Young, innocent, and beautiful. All of the things he was much too old to successfully gain at his age.
The towel currently wrapped around her figure wasn't exactly assisting her. It was much too small to properly conceal her form, revealing the expense of her tanned legs, synching the plush of her torso, and subtly slipping across her chest. The manner in which the towel had started to slide revealed the sensual curve of her breasts, exhibiting the tender flesh and her perky tits, not yet affected by the weight of gravity. Simply her cleavage was upon display, the area in which her breasts were pushed together, but it was enough for Coyle to swiftly detach his vision.
An image suddenly appeared within his mind, a picture of himself dragging his wet tongue through the valley of her breasts. The officer subtly shook his head, attempting to dismiss such a vulgar image, aware of the fact that his uniform trousers would ultimately fail to conceal the evidence of his attraction if he were to dwell upon such a thought.
"Okay." Leland had stated, his voice both firm and gruff as he released a rather dry cough, awkwardly clearing his throat "Ill get started on dinner."
However, as he turned towards the doorway, prepared to disappear into the confines of his home once more, desperately required to escape the current situation before he did or said something he was unable to take back, he young woman had swiftly halted him.
"Wait." She had interrupted, causing Leland to shift upon his heels, freezing within his current location as if some sort of spell had been cast upon him "Ill make dinner."
The offer was rather abrupt, causing the officer to hesitate, completely unsure how to appropriately respond. His own son had never once offered to make dinner, the child he had raised since he was a baby. Yet, here his polite girlfriend was, basically demanding to prepare a meal, rather than requesting.
"No, really, it's okay." Leland had objected. As much as he yearned for nothing more than to simply sit back, relax, and enjoy the view whilst the young woman cooked dinner, the older man was aware of the reality that such an expectation was rather foolish.
But the young woman failed to accept such an answer, becoming visibly confident as her stance steadied. The extremely determined expression currently plastered across her face was a rather adorable contradiction. Everything about her was soft, from her tender skin to her gentle vision. Yet, she was actively supporting a rather stern countenance, as if she was physically prepared to battle the officer, simply just to prepare a meal. Such a firm expression etched across her features was similar to viewing a cute little bunny attempting to behave both strong and tough whilst challenging a feisty doberman.
"No, please. Let me." She further insisted "I feel bad intruding like this, it's the least I can do."
Coyle could no longer deny such an argument. Of course, she certainly wasn't intruding. In fact, her presence was more of a reward than any vacation or a week off of work ever could be. However, the idea of a women cooking a proper meal, just for him, was rather relieving. Leland was somewhat excited by the fact that he would not be forced to consume some sort of television dinner whilst sitting alone within the living room, as he had grown so accustomed to.
So, he had agreed.
Coyle ventured back inside, retrieving a beer from the refrigerator before situating himself upon the couch. He attempted to distract himself with the television, ignoring the reality that he was currently alone with a very young woman within his home, a lady who was currently wearing only a skimpy bikini and practically begging to prepare dinner for him.
And for a bit, such efforts appeared to succeed. Leland became rather consumed within the film being displayed, a Western movie about cowboys and criminals. For a moment, he completely forgot the fact that he wasn't alone, waiting upon the sofa as his dinner heated up, as he did most nights he returned from work.
Yet, his relaxation was soon interrupted when the young woman had eventually ventured inside, the audio of the screen door squealing shut signaling her arrival. Suddenly, Leland was entirely tense once more, as if he was required to remain completely vigilant whilst situated within the young woman's presence. He wasn't moving, no longer blinking, and he had even failed to properly breath as soon as he perceived her arrival.
The young woman did not remain present for very long as she quickly ventured upstairs, most likely assuming a much more modest outfit, before returning to the kitchen and beginning dinner preparations. She was no longer supporting a small pair of bikini bottoms with a matching, tiny top. Instead, the young woman had changed into a basic sweater and a simple skirt. And Leland was unable to deny the fact that he was rather disappointed by such an outfit alteration. He rather enjoyed the idea of the young woman crafting a meal for him, with only the support provided by a little bathing suit.
As she prepared dinner, to the young woman, it appeared as if the officer was completely consumed by whatever film was currently being broadcast (some sort of western from the looks of it, with horses, cowboys, and guns). However, she was unaware of the reality that as soon as her back was turned, Coyle would peer over his shoulder. The officer would silently watch as she prepared dinner, perceiving the manner in which her skirt would twirl with each spin and how tight her top actually was. Between each gun shot and every "yeehaw!" Successfully shouted, Leland would attempt to gain even the slightest glimpse of her panties from beneath her skirt.
This was wrong, the entire situation was completely messed up. Having the young woman prepare him dinner, the pair of them all alone within the house, as if it was just a normal, every day occurrence. This was his sons girlfriend, and Coyle loved Michael more than anything upon this entire Earth. Yet, here Leland was, actively gazing towards his own son's girlfriend within the exact same manner he had once gazed upon Micheals mother: Completely enamored. Within the officer's mind, it was as if the entire world had suddenly become both dark and muffled, except for the vision of the young woman situated within the kitchen.
In all honesty, following the dinner the three had shared those many months ago, Leland had been rather relieved once his son had exited alongside the young woman. Something about his own son's girlfriend, the way she had behaved so polite and respectful, the fact that she was both shy and obedient, and the reality that she had obviously been raised as a flawless young woman, had successfully captured Coyle's attention. He imaged her belonging to him, rather than his son. Leland envisioned himself returning home to a nice, warm meal after every shift, prepared by the young woman, just for himself. He pictured her laughing at each of his own jokes. Coyle had even yearned for the young woman to gaze towards himself, just as she had peered so lovingly towards his own son.
He worried that the sensation within his gut, the voice within his mind basically screaming that he just "had to have her," and the fact that he had adored the young woman just as he had once admired Michael's mother, would cause Leland to do something completely irrational. Once his son and his little girlfriend had vanished that evening, the officer was prepared to forget about her entire existence, never expected to interact with her ever again. He couldn't make an awful mistake if he never saw her again, right?
Yet, she had returned. But this time, Michael was no longer present to act as some sort of barrier. Without the proper availability of his own son, to remind Coyle that this wasn't just another girl for him to score, Leland worried he would become completely irresponsible. And soon enough, he would be expected to sleep within the same house as her, all alone, whilst she was located only a few doors down, with nothing at all in his way.
Dinner had been rather enjoyable. The young woman served Coyle his food, insisting that the officer just "sit back and relax after a long day of work" and just allow her to "take care of him." It was rather nice to be spoiled after so long of being forced to manage himself. Having a woman around was rather relieving.
She had provided him with a rather impressive meal for a young woman her age, accompanied with meat, vegetables, and rice. She had even rewarded him with a new beer, without being asked. It was a dinner that Coyle had practically swallowed within one bite. It had been so long since he had last enjoyed any sort of "real" dinner, something that wasn't just simply heated up or food that was purchased within a box. No, this was real, a meal prepared with both love and precision.
Once they had concluded their dinner, eating rather quietly, with the occasional, polite inquiry directed towards one another, Leland even allowed himself to enjoy the view the young woman provided. He observed the manner in which she swayed her hips and hummed some sort of tune whilst she washed the dishes. He savored the manner in which the young woman asked if he would like another drink once he had finished his previous one. He practically cherished the fact that he was allowed to sit back and do basically nothing, all whilst the beautiful young woman took care of him. Following a long day of his police work, it was some what of a reward to return home to a fresh meal, simple relaxation, and a rather enjoyable view.
Thank God for the dining table, or else his erection would be upon complete display. Something about the young women taking care of him, without any form of objection, was rather satisfying.
Once the sun had successfully disappeared from the atmosphere and darkness soon shrouded the Earth, the evening had been a struggle. The two were expected to prepare for bed, sleep only a few rooms away, all alone, as if everything about the entire, odd situation was completely normal, and absolutely nothing at all was out of place.
Leland had been good for a bit, laying within bed and forcefully restricting himself from even contemplating the idea of exiting the confines of the sheets. He was completely restless as he basically forced himself to focus upon the most unexciting ideas he could possibly conjure. Even after a long day of work, Coyle wasn't the least bit tired, entirely awake as he consistently rolled around within his bed. As he forced himself to ponder upon the lives of his boring coworkers or recalling the items he required from the grocery store, he was repeatedly releasing frustrated groans. He was doing absolutely everything to forgot the idea of the young woman sleeping completely vulnerable only a few paces down the hall, to ignore the rather uncomfortable erection currently situated within the confines of his briefs.
But of course, his good behavior didn't last very long. Eventually, he was unable to ignore his rather deranged thoughts, imagining how the young woman might look asleep, what she was currently wearing, if anything at all. His skin was practically tingling with the overwhelming sensation of curiosity, his cock twitching at the mere idea of what she might be doing. And soon enough, before he was even aware of what he was doing, as if he was entirely controlled by his own instincts, Leland had crept from his bed and quietly snuck down the hall.
It was wrong, completely messed up, to be snooping on his own son's girlfriend. Within the back of his mind, Coyle was aware of the reality that he should return to his room, lock the door, and basically chain himself to the bed, to refrain from making an absolutely irreversible mistake. However, when Leland discovered the fact that the light within the bedroom was still on, illumination flooding beneath the doorway and dancing across the floor, he just couldn't seem to control himself.
The officer slipped further down the hall, gentle with each step until he arrived before the bedroom. Coyle carefully pressed his features against the wooden doorway, as if he was attempting to inhale her literal scent. He sniffed the barrier of the entrance, desperate for even the slightest whiff of her perfume. Coyle compressed his nose against the crack of the door, repeatedly inhaling, like a hound dog tracking the scent of its prey.
When the bedroom light finally flickered off, causing complete darkness to engulf his surroundings, and as he perceived the audio of the young woman climbing into bed, the sheets ruffling and the frame squeaking beneath her weight, it was as if Leland suddenly lost any form of self control.
Coyle hesitated for a moment or two, honestly considering his next actions. Although he was somewhat deranged for even contemplating such an idea, Leland was aware of the correct thing to do within such a situation. He should have simply returned to his room and buried his face into the pillows, until he eventually fell asleep or lost consciousness.
However, he was a weak man, completely victim to each and every one of his desires. So, once he was absolutely positive that the young woman had successfully fallen asleep, aware of her soft breathing and the sudden lack of movement from within the room, Leland gentle cracked the door open.
Coyle slowly peered into the room, glancing around the edge of the door and observing his surroundings. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness until he could successfully view her, now certain that she was asleep.
Leland perceived the young woman laying within his son's bed, curled into Michael's sheets, and clutching his son's pillow. The officer hated to admit it, but a hint of jealousy began to churn within the depths of his stomach. She should be in his bed, curling into his sheets, and clutching his arm, not Michael's.
Yet, he somehow managed to hate himself even more when he honestly allowed himself to venture bast the barrier of the bedroom. It was as if his legs suddenly had a mind of their own, moving upon their own accord, until he had positioned himself before the foot of the bed. Leland observed the young woman for a moment, completely enamored by her sleeping form. He observed the repetitive rise and fall of her chest, memorized the manner in which her hair framed her unconscious features, and adored the rather serene expression plastered across her face. The young woman depicted that of an innocent young bunny, completely unaware of the wolfish predator currently stalking her sleeping form.
However, his morals had failed to appear as Coyle leaned forward, his movements both slow and deliberate whilst he gently brushed the blanket away, successfully exposing her resting form.
The young woman was not nude. But, with the way Lelands body had reacted, she honestly should have been.
She was supporting a large, oversized shirt, one that certainly belonged to his son. The top engulfed her form, causing her to appear rather small and dainty beneath the overflowing fabric. Yet, there was no sign of any pajama pants or sleep shorts adorning her legs. Instead, her thighs simply ventured into the depths of the shirt, her soft flesh disappearing into the darkness of the oversized top.
At that moment, Leland yearned for nothing more than to rip his sons shirt right off the young woman's body before replacing it with one of his own.
Something was certainly wrong with the officer, due to the fact that as a result of such a soft, tender, and somewhat innocent sight, with the young girl sleeping rather calmly, her expression relaxed, and her figure extremely vulnerable, Coyle's erection only further stiffened. In the search of some sort of relief, Leland brought his free hand down to his crotch, gently palming himself through the thin fabric of his boxers. With the manner in which his body had reacted, one would think the young woman was completely nude before him.
He was too far gone, and this reality was only further proven when Leland leaned forward once more, allowing his large palm to collide against her thigh. Her flesh was both soft and tender beneath his calloused hand, a large contrast that only further enticed him. She was the soft caress to his rough edge. It had been a very long while since Coyle had enjoyed the body of a woman her age, someone who was young, flawless, and beautiful, not yet altered by the affects of age. She was tender beneath his rough touch, immediately causing a twinge of primal protectiveness to web through his system. No one deserved to interact with something so precious, certainly not Leland Coyle. But he was a greedy man, and he was determined to obtain the young woman, to brand her as his own. To mark his territory.
The officer allowed his thumb to caress her skin, as if he was petting a soft, fuzzy bunny, basically becoming hypnotized by the warmth of her flesh. He must have been captured within some sort of trance as his hand started to venture further up the length of her thigh, advancing towards the area in which her legs disappeared beneath the fabric of the oversized shirt. Soon enough, the mystery of her pants would soon be revealed if Coyle continued any further.
Just as he had been about to breach the edge of the unimaginable, an act he would certainly be unable to retract, with his hard cock screaming at him to continue, a soft tone had caused him to suddenly freeze. Within that moment, Leland felt similar to some sort of treasure hunter, mere seconds away from revealing the wealth of his deepest desires: A young woman he could properly enjoy. A beautiful and innocent creature that a depraved man of his age should certainly not be rewarded with.
"M-Mr. Coyle?" The audio of the young woman's voice rang out from below him, her tone rather hesitant and soft, laced with the gentle haziness of lingering slumber.
Summary: Just as title says: Dating Leland Coyle headcanons.
Warnings: Fluff, cuddling, kissing, smut, jealousy, possessiveness, submission, and mentions of: Predator/prey dynamic, public sex, degrading, teasing, weapons, guns, swearing, violence, and nudity.
Word Count: 2,346
SFW:
• Leland's love language is definitely acts of service; sure, he enjoys quality time, words of affirmation, and physical touch, but he often displays his affection through both kind gestures and assistance. And thats how he receives love as well. Coyle believes that taking the time out of your day to help someone else, such as completing chores, assisting with errands, and just making someones life easier within general, reveals much more than words ever could. Prioritizing someone else, just as you might concentrate upon yourself, says a lot.
• When he's feeling rather affectionate, Leland will take out the trash, mow the lawn, or even do the laundry/make dinner for you, simply in order to display his devotion. After a long day of completing various responsibilities, you might return home to Coyle tending to the garden or fixing various appliances. Extra points if he's shirtless (he knows how much you enjoy his chest).
• In return, Leland appreciates when you help him get ready for work. Whether that be simply preparing his lunch, setting out his uniform, or assisting him with the task of securing his tie, he never fails to reward you with a fond smile or a tender kiss. Seeing how devoted you are to him, taking the time out of your day (even getting up early upon some occasions) simply just to assist him, is always greatly appreciated.
• He also enjoys when you prepare meals for him. Make him a large breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon upon the weekends, a refreshing lunch of fresh fruits and vegetables during a hot, summer day, or arrange a nice dinner for him to return to after a long work shift, and Leland will shower you with affection for days afterwards. He likes to know that you're thinking of him, and preparing his favorite meal upon a special occasion always makes him feel appreciated.
• He really enjoys providing you with gifts as well. Leland just adores the expression of genuine delight etched across your features whenever he purchases a present for you. Sometimes, he'll return home after work with a random bouquet of flowers, or some sort of beautiful jewelry. "It reminded me of you." He exclaim with a rather flustered smile. When the two of you first moved in together, you were rather shocked to discover a brand new car situated within the drive way when you returned home one afternoon. And when you inquired upon what exactly it was, Leland had simply responded "Its a car, silly. I cant have you goin' out without a car." As if it was the most obvious reason within the entire world. Like he hadn't just spent over $1,000 on a brand new vehicle, just for you.
• Leland is not really a physical touch kinda guy. He's not the type to constantly be connected to you, and he's certainly not a clingy lover. He isn't required to be constantly holding hands, hugging, or kissing in order to display his affection. You know how much he loves you, and he knows how much you love him. However, he does enjoy a few different gestures, such as: Massages, having his arm wrapped around you, or sitting within his lap. He'll basically melt into your touch if you reward him with a back rub after a long day of work. "God, this is just what I needed." He'll explain with a satisfied groan whilst you knead his shoulders.
• He especially enjoys physical touch whilst in public. Within his mind, you are Coyle's property, and he wants the whole world to know that. Whether you're simply driving within the car together, or viewing a film at the theater, Leland isn't afraid to wrap his arm around you. "Come sit with me, honey." He'll drawl from across the table, motioning towards his lap, even though the two of you are currently eating dinner within a public restaurant. He doesn't want anyone to think you're available.
• Additionally, he's definitely the jealous type. Leland isn't afraid to possessively wrap his arm around you within public, or yell "What the Hell do ya think yer lookin' at." At some random guy within public, even if the stranger was looking within the complete opposite direction. Coyle doesn't even enjoy when you interact with employees at the grocery store. "I don't understand why ya gotta talk to that guy." He'll grumble on your way out. "Cause I have to buy milk somehow." You'll respond with a soft giggle and a rather amused eye roll.
• He enjoys seeing you within his clothes; whether you're cooking dinner in one of his shirts, or simply wearing his jacket during a chilly day, Coyle will never fail to display a rather fond smile to himself. Observing you supporting one of his sweatshirts or a pair of his pajama pants (bottoms that are certainly much too over sized upon your smaller frame), provides him with an unique sense of pride. The same sensation he receives whenever you whisper "Im yours." Within his ear as the two of you drift off to sleep. Leland enjoys knowing that you belong to him, and that you're not afraid to display such a reality.
• Obviously, he's not really a marriage guy. After his first few failed marriages, Coyle definitely isn't searching to add another disaster to the list. And especially not with you. Lelands aware of how marriage can affect him, causing his relationships to spiral and his emotions to shift. And you aren't the same as his previous wives. Within his mind, you aren't a simple trophy to display or an object to add to his collection. You're a real human being, and he wants nothing more than the two of you to be happy. He certainly doesn't want a stupid piece of jewelry to affect your relationship, as it has a tendency to. However, he will occasionally state something along the line of "Too bad I ain't the marrying type anymore, or else you'd been tied down ages ago." Or "You'd look might fine with a ring around your finger and my last name, sweetheart."
• No matter how long the two of you have been together, whether its been only a few years, or multiple decades, Leland will continue to flirt as if he had just met you. "Yer sweeter than cherry pie." He'll mumble against your lips, even if you've been cursed with bed head and smudged make up after a night of sleep. "I can't have ya goin' out lookin' like that, darlin'." He might exclaim as you prepare to leave for the grocery store, wearing a simple skirt and a plain sweater. "They don't quite make em like you no more." He'll drawl with a smirk as he wraps his arms around your waist.
• He's a big fan of pet names such as: Sweetheart, sweetpea, darlin', honey, and other, similar titles. He also enjoys when you refer to him as love, dear, handsome, honey, and even stud. God forbid either of you use your real names when in regards to each other.
• He's basically wrapped around your finger. Leland will do anything you say, simply just to please you. It could be ten at night, and if you express your desire for some sort of random snack, such as a pastry or a specific type of cookies, Leland will not hesitate to grab his keys and head to the nearest store, just for you. That man will do anything you say, just to see you smile. "I haven't seen my son act like that for anyone ever." His own mother had said when you had first been introduced, after you had expressed how much you favored a specific dress and Leland had went out and bought it for you, right then and there.
• Coyle is determined for you to remain unemployed. Even if the two of you lack children, he is set upon you remaining a stay at home wife. "A woman shouldn't be out workin'. You should be at home, reading a book, and gettin' yer beauty rest." He'll argue whenever you express even the slightest desire for some sort of career. Leland yearns to both provide for you and support you all on his own. He wants to shower you with gifts, love, and affection, without you being required to lift even a singular finger.
• He definitely sleeps naked. It's not necessarily a sexual thing, more of the fact that he enjoys the intimacy. Leland prefers skin to skin contact, without the nuisance of fabric keeping the two of you separated. For once, he feels entirely relaxed when he's around you, no longer required to remain both vigilant and on guard all of the time. He's able to be vulnerable when with you, no longer constantly alert and wary. Although, sometimes such a circumstance will evolve into something much more depraved, rather than tender and sweet.
• The two of you fall asleep whilst cuddling, every single night. This is the only occasion in which he avidly enjoys such physical affection. He'll have one arm wrapped around your torso, successfully compressing your figure against his own whilst you constrict your limbs around his body, and his other hand remains contained within the depths of his boxers. During slumber, the most vulnerable section of his daily life, he is determined to protect his two most prized possessions: You and his dick.
• He is very protective of you. Leland will sleep with a gun beneath his pillow, and he's not afraid to support it at the mere sign of a threat. "Leland." You might shake him one night, whispering as you gently paw at his exposed shoulder. Although he's an officer, Leland is a deep sleeper, requiring a lot of work to properly wake him. After a long day of constantly being both tense and attentive, its as if his entire body shuts down as soon as his head hits the pillow. A bomb could go off, and it would fail to properly disrupt him. "Hmm?" He will mumble, barely even awake, still half dreaming as you continue to whisper to him. "Did you hear that?" It could be three in the morning, he could have work to prepare for in only two hours, but at the slightest sound of your distress, Leland will become immediately vigilant. His eyes will instantly flash open, and whether he's fully dressed or completely naked, Leland will jump from the bed. You can attempt to stop him as he reaches for his gun, reassuring him that is was probably just the wind or maybe some sort of animal captured within the walls, but he will be Hell bent on protecting you. "Who ever it is, theyer a few cards short of a deck if they are stupid enough to break into an officers house." Leland will drawl as he raises his weapon, unconcerned regarding the reality that he's completely nude.
NSFW:
• He's a rather demanding lover, often requiring some sort of intimacy most days. While at work, Leland might stop by the house in order to have his way with you. If he's out patrolling and happens to perceive you simply walking down the street, he's not afraid to yank you into his cruiser and fuck you. He's prepared for sex almost 100 precent of the time.
• Coyle enjoys rather public acts, persuading you to sit upon his lap so he can reach up your skirt. He might accompany you upon a walk, simply just to pull you behind a random building and penetrate you. Leland enjoys the trill, excited by the task of remaining quiet and required to conceal yourselves. He loves clasping his palm over your mouth whilst whispering "Shh shh shh, darlin'. You don't want anyone to know what Im doin' to ya, do ya?"
• He's got a kink for a predator/prey dynamic. Have him chase you around the house or hide from him when he returns home, and that man basically becomes feral. "You can hide, sweetheart, but Im gonna find ya." He'll drawl as he searches through rooms, his voice both deep and thick with lust. He loves the chase and is even further satisfied by the reward when he eventually captures you.
• Add some sort of fun or thrill into the mix, and Coyle's all for it. Leave the doors unlocked while he's at work, sometimes he'll surprise you with a random visit. Upon multiple different occasions, you've woken up to him jerking off as he stands at the foot of the bed, completely enamored by your sleeping figure. Sometimes, he'll go away for the weekend, abandoning you home alone and constantly waiting. Just so, upon a random night, he'll break in. Leland will invade through a window or bust down the front door, wearing some sort of mask, before he ventures up towards the bedroom. "Call the cops sweetheart, let's see who shows up." Hell whisper with a smirk. Yet, you always know it's him.
• However, he can be submissive for you, if thats what you'd prefer. Although its not necessarily his favorite. You're his girl, he'd do anything to make you happy, even if that means letting you have your way with him. Tie him down, degrade him, slap him, do what ever you'd please. And as much as he grumbles his objection or scowls at you whenever you tease him, he secretly loves it. You're not ignorant to the manner in which his cock will twitch whenever you slap him across the face and call him a "filthy cop."
• He has a rather special Polaroid of you situated within the divers visor of his cruiser. Its a picture you had gifted him with when the two of you had first started dating. Its a photo of you laying upon your bed, situated within a rather scandalous pose, all whilst you support his police cap upon your head and a pair of cuffs around your wrists.
PLLLLLSSSSSSS write for fred durst or Wes borland or both of them togther and we all make out 🥺🥺?
Sharing Is Caring
Pairing: Fred Durst x female reader x Wes Borland
Era: Late 90's/early 2000s
Summary: You cant seem to pick between Fred or Wes. So, why not have both?
Warnings: Jealousy, rivalry, kissing, drinking, alcohol, partying, making out, groping, grinding, swearing, and mentions of both flashing and more intimate scenarios.
Word Count: 4,839
It was stupid, the entire situation was rather foolish, and you were well aware of such a reality. You were actively situated within the confines of the desolate tour buss, the other members of the band absent whilst you were provided with the company of both Fred and Wes, completely alone. The thrum of distant music would occasionally cause the interior of the vehicle to vibrate as the raging party outside continued.
You momentarily wondered if you were dreaming. Had you possibly fallen asleep, entirely by accident? Were you somehow captured within some sort of childish dream, a reverie that had situated you between the attention of two popular celebrities? This was the type of scenario you would have created as a teenager, enamored by famous musicians, unable to escape your emotions towards them, even whilst asleep. This certainly wasn't something you'd fantasize about at your grown age.
You weren't ignorant regarding the bands rather intense preference towards partying. Limp Bizkit was known for celebrating, drinking, and other similar shenanigans. The members participated within the consumption of both alcohol and drugs, upon a daily basis. News articles and media often focused upon the groups shindigs or carousing as some sort of topic. However, they were famous, provided with popularity, prominence, and fortune. Who wouldn't constantly party within their situation?
In fact, you often participated as well. Obviously, you were not a famous musician or some sort of popular celebrity as they were. Instead, you were just a simple fan who had a lot of time to spare. You wouldn't consider yourself to be a groupie, but you were certainly something adjacent. You just loved the atmosphere, adored the music, and enjoyed the captivating performance. Whether you had attended some sort of concert, or participated within an after party, you were always present. You would simply drink, socialize, and just have fun.
Most of the time, your evenings were spent surrounded by other fans, simply dancing and drinking together. However, other times, the members would appear, participating within the gathering alongside their followers. At that point, you were rather accustomed to viewing the group, no longer as fluster as you had been originally. Now, it was rather normal to view Wes Borland talking within a collection of your fellow fans or Fred Durst drinking with some groupies.
And the same could be said for both Fred and Wes as well.
At first, when Limp Bizkit had originally become popular, the members were rather fazed by the large amount of attention they had received. They were not yet accustomed to the hoard of women constantly crawling all over them, or the fans repeatedly begging them for an autograph during every occasion in which they simply stepped outside. But now, that was their normal, an every day occurrence they had grown aquatinted with.
The two had never really been interested within their fans. Well, at least not Wes, but maybe Fred. The pair were aware of the fact that getting intimately involved with a groupie wasn't exactly the best idea. They had been informed of the drama or issues such relationships might cause. Wes had observed too many crime documentaries about crazy fan girls and Fred had perceived many horror stories regarding obsessed groupies who had taken things too far.
The lead guitarist was precise with his lovers, both smart and calculated when it regarded selecting a girlfriend. Wes would typically nominate another celebrity, or an uninformed civilian as his partner, rather than an infatuated fan. He wasn't ignorant to the manner in which groupies often became much too obsessed with celebrities.
However, the lead singer wasn't as intelligent when it regarded such relationships. Fred often favored both the attention and affection he received from obsessed fans, women who adored him as if he was some sort of God. Such a dynamic only further boosted his ego. Fred honestly believed that receiving the occasional sock or a rather threatening letter within the mail was a fair trade if he was allowed to sleep with a beautiful and obsessed fan even if just once.
However, the pairs morals had seemingly faltered one night, a specific evening in which you had appeared before them once more, the same woman who had always arrived during their after parties. You often managed to enter such gatherings, or score a seat within the front row during each performance. You never failed to support the most provocative outfit available, confidently flashing your chest during concerts, all whilst laughing and giggling amongst your friends. And you were always prepared to both drink and dance until the sun rose and your feet ached.
The exact women who had captured both Fred and Wes' attention.
The guitarist had observed you appear during multiple parties, often dancing amongst the crowd, the lights illuminating your figure as if the entire world had revolved solely around you. You always supported a wide smile of delight, a drink within your grasp, and completely engrossed by the prospect of simply having fun.
Additionally, the lead singer had perceived your presence during various concerts. You were always situated within the front of the crowd, your form pushed against the barrier of the stage as you constantly cheered and shouted. You would giggling and chat amongst your friends during songs, typically waving to the musicians, and occasionally tugging at your shirt, rewarding Fred with a momentary view of your exposed breasts.
Yet, you had always remained respectful. During concerts, you would never attempt to crawl upon the stage or toss some sort of clothing article within the middle of a show, as most obsessed groupies would have. Instead, you would simply clap, cheer, and dance, before ultimately vanishing once the performance had concluded. During parties, you never bombarded the group members with intense admiration, begging for even a portion of their attention, as most others would have. Rather, you would simply enjoy yourself, as if this was just any other party, like you weren't actively surrounded by multiple famous musicians.
The pair of men were leaned against a random wall, simply viewing the party from a far, all whilst sipping upon their alcoholic beverages and just conversing together. However, both Fred and Wes had suddenly fallen silent as soon as the two of them had gained a momentary flash of your appearance, viewing you dancing amongst the crowd, completely consumed by the loud music. You were jumping to the beat, like this was just another party, the lights above glimmering across your skin, causing you to both glow and radiate with a captivating aura.
Suddenly, the lead singer leaned towards his companion, attempting to whisper within his ear, muttering quiet enough for only Wes to perceive.
"That girl, you see that girl?" Fred exclaimed whilst jutting a finger within your general direction "Yeah. Im gonna go talk to her."
The lead singer was rather accustomed to the guitarists disapproving and blatantly judgmental response whenever Fred had decided to court yet another fan. Typically, Wes would swiftly reveal his disappointment, declaring something along the lines of "Seriously?" Or "You're just asking to get murdered at this point, dude." Accompanied by an exaggerated roll of his eyes or an exhausted sigh.
However, for once, Fred was rather alarmed by his companions reaction when he was greeted by stern resistance from Wes.
"What? No." The guitarist responded, his statement both assured and firm, as if the lead singer had just claimed that the sky was pink and Wes clearly disagreed.
In all honesty, Fred was rather surprised, completely unprepared to receive an assured remark from his friend. Such a response was entirely unlike Wes, a claim that greatly contrasted his typical reluctance or disappointment. The brunette's previous statement was both harsh and intense, extremely final, rather than a question. As a result, the blond peered towards Wes as if the other man had currently supported three heads, with his brows furrowed and his vision rather confused.
"Why not?" Fred asked, genuinely sincere.
Sure, the lead guitarist often disagreed with his companion's rather foolish or idiotic decisions, actions that were extremely irresponsible and immature. Yet, he would never entirely deny him. Instead, the brunette would often express his disapproval before allowing Fred to do as he pleased. After all, they were both adults, and neither of them could reasonably control one another.
Yet, within that moment, Wes had been stern, as if he had been exclaiming some sort of finalized rule that the blond was legally unable to break.
When the guitarist finally rewarded Fred with a rather sheepish glance, his features distant but his vision clearly determined, all of the singer's previous confusion was instantly destroyed. As a result of such a simple glare, the blond was immediately informed of his companions intentions, before Wes had even managed to properly explain both himself and his behaviors.
"Oh Hell no. No, no, no. You always fucking hate when I get with fans, treatin' me like an idiot. Don't you dare fuckin' spin this bullshit around. You always shit on me about it, all high and mighty and shit. But now, ohhh things are suddenly different when it's you." Fred attempted to defend himself, quick to both anger and irritation whilst he scolded his companion.
However, Wes was rather unfazed by the blond's berate. The brunette did not surrender or concede to Fred's reprimand. He did not simply admit defeat and allow the other man to become victorious, as he typically did. Instead, Wes remained firm, rewarding his friend with a rather stern glare in return.
"Come on, dude. I never do this, just let me have this one." The guitarist resisted, tossing his hands forwards as he spoke, attempting to display his desperation.
Yet, Fred failed to retreat.
"Hell no." The singer exclaimed, tossing his head backwards in irritation "You don't get to shit on me and then turn around and do the exact same thing."
Wes was determined, a rather smug smirk slowly inching across his features as he began to march towards you, splitting the crowd as if he was a sharp axe slicing through a dense log. The guitarist was attempting to gain your attention before the blond possibly could, although he played it off as some sort of both honorable and respectful act.
"Why don't we just, ya know, ask her. Actually let her pick." The brunette exclaimed over his shoulder, causing Fred to skitter after him like some sort of lost puppy.
Although he attempted to display his behaviors as both noble and polite, his intent was the exact opposite. Wes was certain that you would select himself, positive that you would reject his companion. He was simply required to interact with you first, before Fred could possibly capture your attention. He was obviously the better choice, right?
As soon as the brunette had arrived in front of you, gently tapping upon your shoulder in order to gain your focus, Wes had failed to waist even a moment before inquiring upon whether or not you would enjoy his company.
"Hey, you wanna hang?" The guitarist inquired as soon as you had properly shifted towards him, hollering over the blaring music whilst failing to even introduce himself.
However, Fred had instantly countered his companions offer. Instead, the blond swiftly proposed his own idea.
"No, how about you hang out with me, sweetheart." The singer declared, much less of a question, similar to Wes' offer, and more of an instruction.
Suddenly, it felt as if the roles had been reversed. You were not crawling all over the two men, both desperate and pleading for their attention, as most groupies behaved towards them. Instead, the musicians were directing their affection towards you, begging for your concentration within their own, separate manners. It was like you had suddenly become the infamous celebrity, and both Fred and Wes were now the infatuated fans.
You were rather stunned as you stood before the pair of musicians, no longer dancing and giggling as you had been previously. Instead, you were now shocked, completely idle and dormant within your position.
You wondered if you had maybe consumed too much alcohol, extremely intoxicated, which had caused you to hallucinate. There was no possible way these two men were actively fighting over you, as if this was a scene retrieved straight from the obsessed brain of a teenage girl. This only happened in the movies, with a pair of handsome and popular men fighting over a random girl. You obviously had to be dreaming.
"I- um," you stuttered, your features glazed beneath a vibrant crimson hue "Im sorry? I don't... What?"
You were obviously rather confused, visibly both awkward and nervous as you swayed in front of the two men, failing to properly select. You were still mentally wondering if this was actually real, or if you had somehow managed to imagine the entire scenario, extremely influenced by the affects of the alcohol.
Yet, Fred did not surrender. The blond failed to simply dismiss your rather bewildered response before finally leaving you alone. You were obviously rather conflicted, unable to properly finalize your decision. Never mind the fact that you were visibly confused. Instead, the blond persisted, further attempting to persuade you into some sort of choice.
"Come on, just have a drink with us, maybe that will help you choose." Fred had proposed, a soft and rather comforting smile etched across his lips. A tender grin, but false none the less; it was a fake smirk that was an obvious attempt to further convince you.
You could never even consider possibly denying either of the men in front of you. Although you were rather conflicted, unsure of the correct decision, you had ultimately agreed. This was a once in a life time opportunity you would never even contemplate rejecting. And besides, sharing a drink and some quality time between the pair of musicians was somewhat of a fantasy you had always possessed. Even if nothing ever did proceed, at least you'd gain a rather interesting story to share amongst your friends, regarding the evening you had spent partying directly alongside both Fred Durst and Wes Borland.
With a rather timid nod, your vision shy, features flustered, and a soft smile etched across your lips, the pair did not hesitate to accept your approval. The men quickly guided you towards their tour bus, a large vehicle situated a few yards away from the accumulated crowd. In all honesty, you had expected the pair to simply share a drink with you right then and there, to stand amongst the sea of people whilst the three of you just talked. Yet, instead, they had lead you to a much more secluded and private location.
The musicians guided you into the bus, assisting you up the steps and into the threshold of the vehicle. Once inside, Fred secured the door as Wes ushered you towards the adjacent couch. It was a rather desolate bus, with a designated area up front for the driver, a pair of bunk beds situated within the wall, a small dining table, a sofa, and a doorway leading into a much larger room positioned at the end of the hallway.
You sat upon the couch, situated between the two men, with the blond upon your left and the brunette located on your right, awkwardly grasping at the drink positioned within your palms. You were nervous, that much was obvious, due to the manner in which you would occasionally glance towards the singer, or timidly peer within the guitarist's direction. You were clearly awaiting some sort of instructions.
"How about this," Fred finally exclaimed, graciously clearing his throat "let's play a game."
The brunette was unable to recall an occasion in which he had participated within such juvenile party games within at least a decade, maybe longer. The three of you were no longer dumb teenagers, and Wes was certain you would reject such an immature and childish idea.
"Shut up, dude, you sound like a creep." The guitarist retorted, swiftly beginning to mock the blond, repeating his previous offer within a rather foolish voice, all whilst claiming that his companion sounded similar to that of an evil villain within an idiotic action film.
Fred was quick to defend himself, stating that it was just an idea before basically demanding the brunette to "shut the fuck up." However, as the two continued to bicker, shouting at one another from over your shoulder, you allowed yourself to relax into the comfort provided by the sofa.
"Alright, what did you have in mind?" You finally responded, your soft voice slicing through the their pair's argument like a deafening shot gun blast.
Instantly, the two men became silent, rather surprised by your approval. Even Fred hesitated for a moment, before ultimately leaning forwards and glaring towards Wes, displaying a rather exaggerated grin of victory within his companions general direction.
"Truth or drink." The blond finally offered after a moment of dramatic silence, a rather confident smirk etched across his lips.
You pondered upon his request for a moment, subtly chewing upon your lip as you tossed the idea around within your head. You were aware of exactly where such a game would lead. However, you were seemingly unable to deny such an offer as you finally nodded, your movements rather awkward as you nervously glanced towards the beverage currently situated within your grasp.
You perceived the audio of Fred's rather arrogant chuckle from beside you, obviously satisfied by your decision. The sofa slightly shifted beneath you as the singer further relaxed into his seat, the weight of his movements causing the cushion to instinctually adjust.
"Lady's first." The blond exclaimed, his tone laced with blatant confidence as he drawled such a statement.
In response to Fred's cheesy claim, Wes audibly released a rather disappointed sigh. However, he ultimately failed to object, allowing the entire ordeal to further continue.
"Alright..." You paused, considering your future question, attempting to achieve the most agreeable route "Fred," you finally stated, directing your first question towards the singer "Have you ever fucked a fan?"
The blond failed to hesitate before responding, releasing an amused chuckle as he remarked.
"Of course." He stated, as if it was the most obvious answer within the entire universe.
Now his turn, Fred instantly shifted his attention towards you, clearly prepared to inquire about yourself. Obviously, he wasn't going to ask Wes anything. In fact, it was his entire goal to keep his companion as detached from the entire situation as possible. You were the prize, and the singer was determined to become victorious.
"(Y/N), have you ever fucked a celebrity?" The blond asked with a rather suggestive raise of his brow.
Instantly, you perceived the sensation of heat exploding across the expanse of your exposed skin, swiftly glazing your features beneath a vibrant crimson hue, and causing your pulse to thunder within your ears. You were rather embarrassed by the fact that no, you hadn't slept with a famous individual, and the prospect of admitting such a reality to the pair of musicians situated beside you was extremely daunting. Therefore, you simply relied upon a swig of your drink, transporting the entrance of the bottle towards your lips before consuming a thorough swallow.
However, your silence was ultimately received as an answer within itself, causing Fred to simply chuckle as a response to your rather shy demeanor.
After a moment of composure, attempting to control the trembling of your fingers and physically decrease your rapid heart rate, you decided to invite Wes into the game, determined to include both of the men.
"Have you ever fucked a fan?" You inquired, guiding your question towards Wes as you nodded within his direction.
The blond was visibly disappointed by your rather open tactics. Although you had directed your first inquiry towards Fred, you were now attempting to include the brunette as well. Such welcoming behaviors caused the singer to grumble his disapproval from beside you. He had regarded such attention towards his companion as some sort of attack, rather than a simple invitation.
In contrast to your previous dismissal, along with Fred's clear response, Wes had simply shaken his head, indicating the reality that he had failed to become intimate with a fan before.
However, the guitarist's rather timid demeanor swiftly shifted into something much more arrogant and determined as he directed his initial question towards yourself. Suddenly, Wes was no longer nervously peering towards the ground below him. Instead, he was now maintaining proper eye contact with you, his vision unfaltering as he remained completely assured.
"Which one of us do you wanna fuck?" The brunette asked, his tone rather steady and firm, as if he had never once been awkward within the first place.
Suddenly, the entire tone of the game quickly shifted. At first, the three of you had been rather reserved. Although the questions had always been extremely intimate and rather personal, such inquiries had always been received as simply introductory. But now, with Wes' rather blunt question, the three of you had once again returned to the initial issue: Which one of them you would select.
It was as if you had just been slapped across the face, revived back to reality as you considered your answer. This was obviously a question the two men would not allow you to simply dismiss. There was some sort of invisible battle occurring between the musicians, and the pair were clearly determined to settle it. You were just an innocent civilian who had somehow managed to become caught within the cross fire.
The pair awaited your response within silence, both gazing down towards you as you considered your options. Either, you could select Fred, which would ultimately ruin your chances with the brunette. Or, you could choose Wes, which in return would destroy your opportunity with the blond. Either way, it was a lose lose situation. You just couldn't seem to decided.
You released a rather trembling sigh as you gained your confidence, mentally preparing yourself to reveal the truth. Your future statement would either completely demolish this entire opportunity, or provide you with a rather satisfying reward. And it was a risk you were willing to take.
"Both." You simply exclaimed, your features physically burning beneath a deep blush as a result of such a confession.
In all honesty, you had expected the duo to quickly dismiss you, to regard your admission with a pair of disgusted expressions before commanding you to disappear. You had assumed the musicians would regard you as disturbing or somehow become offended by such a claim.
However, they had simply remained quiet, the silence causing you to wearily glance upwards, inspecting the two. And as you observed their features, you soon discovered that they were certainly not upset. Instead, Fred appeared rather pleased, smirking to himself as an amused chuckle bubbled within his throat. Additionally, Wes even appeared rather satisfied, leaning towards the blond before whispering something inaudible within his ear, quiet enough for only the singer could perceive said statement.
In response to the brunette's mystery claim, Fred simply nodded. Wes reclined within his seat once more as the singer situated his hands behind his head, assuming a rather relaxed and slightly smug position.
"I think we can arrange that." The blond stated, silently motioning for you to situate yourself closer to him, nodding his own head down towards his lap.
You were certainly shocked, with your vision wide and your lips slightly parted. You had honestly expected the pair of men to swiftly reject you, to despise such an idea before immediately demanding your departure. Yet, they hadn't, and you were honestly surprised that your jaw hadn't managed to collide against the floor, due to how your mouth was currently agape.
Eventually, once you had gained enough courage, dismissing the slight tremble of your movements and the anxiety currently pestering your mind, you did as the lead singer had instructed, slowly shifting your figure closer to his own. You were prepared to simply position yourself by Fred's side, to lean across his chest before the two of you ultimately connected. However, with a rather supportive hand provided by the other man, Wes gently guided you onto his companions lap. With your legs straddling his thighs and your hands situated against the barrier of the blond's chest, you quietly gazed towards Fred, silently expecting something you weren't yet aware of.
The lead singer was the first to connect your lips, his actions both confident and direct, as if he was absolutely starved for your attention. Fred continuously nipped and lapped at your features, desperately attempting to breach the seal of your lips before venturing into the confines of your mouth. And you had allowed just that, permitting his tongue to split your lips before swirling into the depths of your mouth. The singer caressed your tongue, cheeks, even your teeth, all with the usage of his own tongue.
His hands had ultimately removed themselves from behind his skull, slowly slithering up the length of your back in order to properly grasp your figure. His grip wasn't yet intimate, completely focused upon the curve of your torso and the dip of your waist. However, you were certainly aware of the reality that Fred was yearning for his hands to become much more adventurous, due to the manner in which his fingers palmed your flesh and his hands caressed your skin. It was as if he was mentally struggling to restrain himself, to refrain from reaching for your breasts or palming your ass at that very moment.
Eventually, Fred had retreated, chuckling quietly to himself as you instinctually chased his lips. The blond pulled away, visibly amused by your confusion before he nodded to his left, motioning towards Wes.
The brunette quickly leaned forwards, capturing your features within his palm as he guided your face towards his own. Compared to the lead singer, Wes' actions were much less intense. Rather than both nipping and biting at your lips, the guitarist was slow, passionate, and deliberate with each action. His tongue did not beg to enter the confines of your mouth, he failed to grope or palm at your figure. Instead, the brunette simply kissed you, connecting your lips within a rather romantic and sensual manner, each push and pull overwhelmed with both passion and concealed desperation.
After a few moments, Wes' seemingly passed you back towards Fred, like you were some sort of ration the two were sharing, evenly splitting your attention between one another.
The blond assumed control once more, gaining the attention provided by your lips. He reassumed his previous exploration of your mouth, lapping at your tongue and repeatedly kissing your lips. All whilst the brunette plastered soft kisses down the column of your neck, venturing further and further down the expanse of your figure, plastering his mouth across each and every inch of exposed skin he could possibly reach. Wes' lips were both tender and gentle against your neck, occasionally rewarding you with a slight nibble or a subtle suck.
You just couldn't help but moan into the confines of Fred's mouth, your hands assuming position within Wes' hair, rewarding him with the occasional tug or a slight pull. As their hands ventured across your form, with the brunette grasping at your breasts and the blond palming your ass, you felt yourself instinctually grinding against Fred's lap, searching for any sort of friction. And with each thrust, the lead singer had rewarded you with a subtle groan and a grind of his own hips.
However, just as soon as the entire situation had started, it soon concluded.
The audio of the nearby door squealing open quickly interrupted the three of you, causing Wes to jolt away and Fred to reward your lips with one final nip before ultimately releasing you. Yet, each of their hands remained plastered across your body, with the blond's fingers gripping your ass and the brunette's palms engulfing your breasts, as if they were somehow marking their territory. Visibly displaying the fact that you had belonged to them within that moment, completely greedy and unwilling to share.
Your vision quickly flickered towards the entrance, your features burning with a mixture of both embarrassment and shame, due to the reality that you had just been caught becoming intimate with both of the musicians at once. You had definitely just gained the title of "The World's Best Groupie."
Located within the doorway was a rather shocked, yet slightly amused, Sam Rivers. His vision was wide, observing the three of you as if he had just accidentally stumbled upon some sort of active crime scene. Yet, you weren't ignorant to the slight smirk of approval that currently graced his lips.
"Are you two serious? You cant even share the stage, but you can share a woman? You guys are treading into some rather gay territory right now." Sam exclaimed with a chuckle, shaking his head within visible amusement.
Era: I didn't have a specific era within mind whilst writing this.
Summary: You and Coyle work together during a trial, a trial where he acts as the police canine and you are his handler. You decide to reward him for such good work.
You were really unsure as to what Dr. Easterman had been thinking. He was a professional, a scientist, a doctor for Christ's sake. You wondered if he really was just stupid. Or, you considered the possibility that there was some sort of concealed motivation behind his rather foolish actions. Sure, the reagents were being both studied and experimented upon. But the prime assets were as well.
Eventually, you finally decided that the entire situation was just a part of his scheme, that he was simply expanding his researching, and surely he wasn't an idiot. Obviously not.
You were rather shocked when Dr. Easterman suggested that you and Coyle were to work alongside one another, to collaborate for a trial or two. At first, you were extremely confused. The doctor wasn't the type to simply give in to people's desires, to basically reward his little subjects. I mean, he was practically playing with fire with such a proposal.
When you had originally met, both you and Leland were swift to create some sort of relationship together, a dynamic that wasn't one you would consider boyfriend and girlfriend, but something relatively adjacent.
What started off as stupid arguments or silly disagreements, had soon evolved into full blow fights. Coyle had regarded you as both weak and frail, simply because you were a woman. However, you were a prime asset for a reason, and you certainly were not the type to reject a challenge.
The two of you would often become physically violent towards one another, throwing fists and attacking each other. However, during one fight within specific, things had taken a much different direction.
You had somehow managed to shove the officer to the ground, standing above him as you considered your next move. Whilst Leland was attempting to control his spiraling vision and regain his composure, you had eventually brought your foot up to his chest. You decided to repeatedly stomp upon his stomach, in an attempt to somehow harm or injure him. Maybe break a rib or cause him to cough up blood. However, when you had landed a rather unfortunate blow, a stomp much lower than you had originally intended, you were extremely surprised by Leland's rather abnormal reaction.
The cop did not cry out in pain or curl in upon himself, as a result of your heel colliding against his crotch. Leland did not release a shout of agony or become enraged in response. Instead, Coyle had rewarded you with somewhat of a mewl, a little squeak somewhere in between a moan and soft whine.
At first, you had been shocked, quick to retract your foot and gaze down towards the cop with a rather astonished, yet slightly disgusted, expression. However, when the officers vision connected with your own, his irises rather awkward and a flustered blush etched across his features, a devious little smirk quickly adorned your features.
He was not angry or upset. No. Instead, Leland was ashamed.
He liked it.
And things had only escalated from there.
At first, your relationship had been strictly physical, your interactions often originating with some sort of fight, whether that be verbal or visceral. However, after a bit of screaming or punching, eventually, things would become a lot more intimate. It was as if Leland was searching for such interactions, often appearing within your own, personal room, in order to instigate you or initiate some sort of argument.
And you soon learned a rather interesting fact about Coyle: He was not the dominant or commanding type within bed. No. Instead, he was rather submissive, allowing you to degrade, tease, and even slap him. You supposed that after a long day of acting all tough and strong in front of others, the officer preferred a little reprimanding.
Due to such a relationship, the two of you had developed a rather interesting dynamic when interacting with reagents together. Whilst positioned by your side, Coyle would morph from his typically dominant and assertive reputation, before transforming into a rather submissive version of himself. It was as if he was attending the police academy all over again. The officer often behaved as if he was still within training whenever you were nearby, like you were his sergeant and he was the little apprentice desperate to learn.
Maybe that had been the reason: Dr. Easterman and the other scientist had observed the strange transformation within Leland Coyle, specifically whenever you were present, and they were desperate to decipher the rather odd phycology behind his unnatural habits.
Typically, the officer was a confident and aggressive individual, completely unruly and always operating under his own decisions. Leland was never easy to control. However, as soon as you would appear along side him, the cop was suddenly desperate to receive any sort of command or instructions from your lips. It was as if, after all of this time, Coyle had finally encountered his master, someone who was capable of properly training him.
When Dr. Easterman originally suggested a trail with both you and Coyle as the main enemies, you were a bit confused. This was rather unlike the doctor, simply giving into the desires of others. You had previously expected that he would have distanced you and Leland as far away from each other as possible, to bring a conclusion to your rather inappropriate relationship.
Yet, as Dr. Easterman further explained such an idea, stating that Coyle would act as some sort of police canine, and you would be required to command him like he was a guard dog, it suddenly all made sense.
At first, Leland immensely opposed such an idea, stating that he would not become a "submissive little bitch" for someone else to both use and abuse. The officer was scarlet in the face as he screamed at Dr. Easterman, declaring that he would not allow such stupid pretend play to assault his own dignity. "Would you like for me to wear a tail and a collar as well, sir?" Coyle had further stated, practically spitting venom as he yelled at the doctor.
But Dr. Easterman had dismissed Leland's objections, simply stating that "it would be done" and Coyle would "learn to enjoy it." Which only managed to further infuriated the officer.
The trial was located within a bank setting. Reagents would be instructed to break into the vault and collect the money, in order to "rebel against corporate America and revolt against the government." During this mission, you were provided with a police uniform, one that was extremely similar to Coyle's, but lacking his signature stun baton and the upgraded car battery strewn across his back. And of course, the officer was not expected to support a pair of dog ears or a tail, but the thought was rather entertaining. Maybe it was something you would attempt to persuade Dr. Easterman into within the future.
As soon as the two of you executed your very first trial together, titled "Invade the Bank," it was obvious that Lelands prior claims (stating that he drew the line at pretending to be a dog for a woman, of all people, to order around), were obviously a lie.
You were expected to act as some sort of literal narc, raising your voice and calling out to Coyle whenever you detected one of the reagents. You were supplied with a pair of night vision goggles and instructed to scour the expanse of fake bank, and as soon as you discovered one of the enemies sneaking around, whether they were crawling through the darkness or simply traipsing within the open, you would swiftly yell out for Leland.
Once you had perceived one of the reagents, you were instructed to avoid personally attacking them yourself. Instead, you were required to "allow Coyle to deal with it." Therefore, as soon as you had detected one of the reagents crawling through the darkness, you would call the officer's name, hollering something along the lines of "Leland!" Or "I found one!" To which the cop would instantly dismiss whatever he was currently preoccupied with, in order to swiftly come to your aid.
Coyle would follow the direction of your voice, storming towards your location as if he truly had been transformed into some type of trained police dog, determined to both protect and defend his handler. The officer would scramble after your voice, often declaring something along the lines of "Officer responding," before he would eventually arrive by your side and swiftly begin to attack his victim. However, rather than tearing into his target with the usage of his own mouth, as police dogs tend to do, Coyle would instead utilize his stun baton, beating each victim until they were properly decommissioned.
The trial had been advertised as some sort of special police canine experience, with you acting as the handling officer and Leland assuming the role of the dog. It was a rather interesting mission, the only situation in which two prime assets were allowed to work together, besides from the occasional prime time event.
Things often went as planned, with you acting as a simple scavenger, a docile prime asset that would never actually attack her victims, while Leland handled the much more violent aspects. It was never your intent to harm any of the reagents. In fact, you were specifically instructed against it. Instead, you were ordered to simply search for enemies, acting as some sort of live security system, and to call out to Leland whenever you had successfully discovered one of the reagents.
Sometimes, you and Coyle would emerge victorious, eliminating all of the participants until only the two of you remained, along with the ex-pops. However, other times, the reagents would become victorious, successfully completing the trial and managing to escape with their lives. But thats just how things went. It was all apart of the therapy.
Instead of reacting with the chuck of a brick or the toss of a bottle towards you, reagents were prone to fleeing the scene. You would not hurt them, they were certainly aware of such a reality, you were simply some sort of alarm. Therefore, they often ran and hid before Leland had successfully arrived, the individual who would certainly attack them.
However, during one specific trial, things hadn't gone as planned.
You were traipsing through the darkness whilst you searched for the participants, attempting to remain light upon your feet, in order to avoid the detection of any nearby reagents. You peeked into abandoned lockers, searched beneath desks, and gazed into the depth of empty barrels, until you eventually spotted one of the enemies. The reagent was crouched within the corner as they fiddled with the generator, attempting to remain concealed within the darkness and go undetected by Leland. However, they appeared unaware of the night vision goggles you had been supplied with. Within this situation, the darkness would be of no assistance to them.
However, you had been rather uninformed of the other individual's presence. The second reagent who had been situated by the doorway, tasked solely with the responsibility of watching for any nearby threats.
Therefore, when you pushed through the doorway, prepared to call out for Leland and alert him of the nearby enemy, you were only able to successfully release a simple "Co!-" before your were promptly interrupted.
As soon as your lips parted and the words began to tumble from your mouth, you swiftly encountered a bottle to the chest. The second reagent, the individual situated behind the door, had successfully managed to attack you. The glass shattered against your figure, causing a grunt of surprise and a gasp of pain to slip from your lips.
You had been completely unprepared for such a situation, never once encountering any form of resilience from any of the previous reagents. You were often regarded as some sort of set up, such as sound traps or damage traps, a decoy to simply avoid, rather than attack. However, this specific set of reagents had reacted differently, attempting to incapacitate you, rather than simply hide.
You instantly stumbled to your knees, not accustomed to being upon the receiving end of such violence (that was Coyle's job), as you began to both cough and hack.
The pair of reagents appeared rather pleased with themselves, smiling down towards your limp figure as you attempted to regain your composure. The individual who had attacked you stepped forward, nodding to the other currently tinkering with the generator. Obviously, they were prepared to continue their previous assault, to completely immobilize you, so you would no longer be a nuisance to worry about. They were obviously prepared to beat the ever loving shit out of you, so they could easily complete their remaining tasks, no longer concerned about any sort of lingering trap or secret surveillance.
However, even though your call had not been entirely released, it had done the trick. Either your trusty canine had perceived the singular syllable you had managed to execute, or the sound of shattering glass had captured his attention. Whatever the reason may have been, soon enough, the buzz and crack of lively electricity began to dance through the air, the strong scent of cigarette smoke effortlessly infiltrating your nostrils as Leland advanced.
"Did you just attack my wife!?" You perceived the audio of Coyle's booming voice, his boots repeatedly thumping against the pavement, and the continuous hum of his upgraded stun baton. As much as you yearned to savor such a statement, the fact that Leland had regarded you as his wife, something he had never once referred to you as before, the soft smile of joy was swiftly dismissed from your lips as yet another sharp cough promptly hitched itself within the depths of your throat. "Thats assault on a police officer! That is a crime!"
Although you were never formally an officer, a simple prime asset that had no relation to the field of law or justice, with the uniform and fake bade, it played into the facade. For this trial, you were an officer, just as other prime assets and ex-pops pretended to be doctors, nannies, mannequins, and other roles. It was all for show.
Coyle swiftly barged into the room, the electricity of his stun baton and car battery continuously popping and cracking through the atmosphere. He had kicked the door open so harshly, it practically exploded from its hinges as it harshly collided against the wall.
Upon his arrival, Leland swiftly discovered the scene before him, with you laying limp upon the ground, glass shattered across the floor, and the violent reagent looming above you. However, before the enemy could even possibly consider collecting another projectile to launch towards the cop, or continuing their berate upon you, Coyle had quickly managed to attack them.
Utilizing his amplified stun baton, along with a mixture of his own brute strength, Leland successfully disarmed the reagent. He shoved the other individual to the ground, causing the reagent to fall upon their ass, properly ejecting the air from their lungs, before swiftly bringing the electrified weapon down to their chest. He probed and prodded at the victim with his amplified baton, but his attack failed to cease after a simple shock of electricity.
Prime assets were specifically instructed to reward reagents with a singular attack at a time, rather than killing them all at once. Typically, Coyle would attack his victims with just one or two electric shocks before providing them with the option to flee. Just as Mother Gooseberry would drill her victims once or Franco would reward each reagent with a singular shot at a time. It provided participates with the option to actually complete each mission, rather than die only a few minutes in.
But Leland didn't stop. He failed to simply shock the reagent before allowing them to flee. No. Instead, Leland continued. Even as the reagent had fully collapsed upon the ground, convulsing and twitching beneath the power of his amplified stun baton, Coyle had continued. He repeatedly slammed the weapon against the reagents chest, beating them without mercy until they were completely limp and motionless upon the ground, their shirt burned and their skin charred.
The officer was practically fuming with anger, attacking his victim as if he was relieving all of his pent up frustration upon the corpse of the reagent. All whilst hollering statements along the lines of "You need to respect authority!" Or "Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!" And his visible fury, the fact that he was so determined to protect you, caused a small, affectionate smile to grace your lips as you slowly regained your composure, pushing your weak body upwards with the usage of your weary palms.
Yet, his rampage failed to end once the initial reagent had been decommissioned. Coyle did not reward the second individual with the opportunity to flee the scene or escape his torment, as he normally would have. Instead, he repeated such an action once more, this time directing his assault towards the other reagent.
Leland failed to waste even a moment before he stormed towards the participant positioned by the generator, their expression overwhelmed with a mixture of both shock and fear. Their flesh was pale, vision wide, and hands trembling, completely unprepared for such a reaction from the police officer. Prime assets were not prone to murdering their victims with the usage of a singular attack, and this reagent was obviously aware of such a reality. Yet, Coyle had just done so.
Once again, the officer brought the amplified stun baton down to the second reagents figure, emitting shock after electrifying shock though the individuals system.
"You watched your friend over there attack that police officer, and you didn't say nothin'!? Thats misprision of a felony!" Coyle shouted whilst he projected his weapon into the second reagents chest, repeatedly attacking them until the other individual had also collapsed upon the pavement, completely unresponsive, similar to the first victim.
Leland was enraged, that much was obvious. Sure, he was a typically irritated and frustrated man, prone to both violence and anger. However, he also enjoyed the chase, often only attacking his victims once before allowing them to scurry off, permitting the pattern to repeat all over again. Coyle loved the adrenaline he received from such a pursuit.
However, this time, he did not possess any form of mercy towards his victims. Leland was not slow or deliberate with each of his actions. Instead, he had murdered both of the reagents, killed them during the very first attack. There was no moment of recovery or the provided option to escape. Rather, he had simply electrocuted them to death, right then and there, as if the pair were finally receiving their punishment after years wasted upon death row.
The officer paused for a moment, panting and grunting as he peered down towards the corpse of the second reagent. His enraged expression was visible even within the darkness, the constantly glow and illumination emitted by the sparks of his stun baton successfully revealing his features. He appeared absolutely furious, a firm scowl etched across his lips, his brows furrowed, and his chest heaving with each rapid inhale.
However, as if someone had suddenly flipped some sort of switch inside of him, Coyle shifted within your direction. The cop turned towards you like a dog expecting some sort of treat. Immediately, the frustrated grimace was erased from his features, swiftly transformed into a wide grin. And although you could not properly perceiving his irises from beneath the shade of his sunglasses, you were aware of the fact that his vision was most likely enthusiastic with both delight and pride.
If Leland had possessed a tail, it would have certainly been wagging within that exact moment.
A soft grin infiltrated your features as you gazed towards the officer, hesitating for a moment before you eventually rewarded him with a gentle nod. The exact display of your acceptance that he had been awaiting.
And with that, Coyle dashed towards you. His lengthy strides consumed the small distance situated between the two of you, and as soon as Leland had arrived in front of you, he was swift to envelope you within his arms. The cop lifted you from your position upon the floor, engulfing you within a large hug, a firm embrace that successfully managed to compress your chest against the sturdy barrier of his figure.
Your toes were barely gracing the ground as Coyle hugged you, squeezing you so harshly within his arms, all of the air had been successfully ejected from your lungs.
"That was good, yeah? I did good?" He inquired, desperately seeking your approval.
As he continued to capture you within his grasp, his deep voice vibrating against your chest, your fingers danced across his shoulders. Your palms ventured up the column of his neck until your digits graced his skull. You laced your fingers within his dark hair, gentle pulling at the strands until he had perceived your gesture and successfully recoiled his head from the junction between your shoulder and your neck.
As his head retreated, you connected your vision with his own, or at least, what you assumed was the general location of his irises from beneath his tinted sunglasses, as you adored the man before you. A soft grin was etched across his lips, as if you were the most delicate creature upon the entire planet, and Leland was desperate to protect you against the cruelty of the world. Finally, you rewarded Coyle with a gentle nod before situating a tender kiss upon the tip of his nose.
"Yes, that was good. You're a good boy, Leland." You whispered.
If you had been anyone else, such as other prime assets or even Dr. Easterman, Coyle would have been instantly frustrated. The officer despised the occasions in which others regarded him like some sort of mutt.
Yet, you were the exception; with you, Leland basked within the affection, always searching for both your praise and approval.
You had successfully granted his wishes, and now, it was the cop's turn to provide you with your own reward: His obedience. Of course he was to display his satisfaction, that was the polite and respectful thing to do when your woman had been so perfect for you.
Leland leaned forward and enveloped your lips with his own, capturing you within a soft kiss. Your body instantly melted into his own, your hands gliding from his face, down his neck, and across his chest. The initial kiss was both tender and soft, your lips connecting within a rather gentle manner. The interaction reminded you of the mornings you spent along side your lover, when the two of you would prepare for your day, rewarding one another with a tender good bye kiss before you both begun your separate days of work.
However, what had originally started as a sweet and gentle embrace, soon evolved into something much more intimate and inappropriate when your palm graced his cock. Your hand trailed down his chest, consuming the texture of his leather jacket beneath your fingers, until your palm breached the edge of his pants, seeking his crotch as if you were on some sort of mission. And upon impact, you discovered that Coyle was already hard.
Leland had an inclination towards impressing you, always desperate to both please and satisfy you. The officer was prone to large displays of his devotion, such as arguing with Dr. Easterman upon your behalf, or attacking reagents in order to defend you, as he had just done. It was as if the cop had been transformed into some sort of smitten teenager all over again, desperate to impress his crush through any means possible, no matter how foolish or idiotic such actions truly were.
And whenever you provided him with your approval, it was as if some sort of switch suddenly flipped within his mind. Whenever you rewarded him with even the slightest bit of praise, Coyle went from both angry and frustrated, constantly fuming with a mixture of rage and fury, before basically morphing into putty within your palms.
"You want a treat, boy? I think you deserve a treat, yeah?" You whispered against his lips, and the rather provocative and somewhat degrading question earned you a gentle whimper from Lelands mouth as he softly thrusted his pelvis further into your grasp.
You took that as a yes.
Your hand lingered on his clothed erection for a long while, repeatedly palming and grasping at him through his pants, all in an attempt to get him further riled him. And your efforts appeared to succeed as the officer began to whimper against your lips, his thrusts becoming impatient, and his moans constantly increasing within volume. After only a few minutes of simple teasing, Coyle had successfully began to both whimper and whine into your mouth, kisses becoming slopping as he grew increasingly eager.
"Ive been such a good boy, (Y/N), just for you, all for you. Please." Leland shamelessly begged, his tone further increasing within pitch.
You giggled against his lips, rather pleased with his desperate begging. Coyle wasn't the type to plead or beg, he was often firm and confident with his actions, never failing to remain the one in charge. Leland did not enjoy receiving instructions from others, and he would certainly never beg. He was often the one providing commands, not the other way around.
Except for with you. The officer rather enjoyed your dominance towards him. And after a long day of observing him strutting around, all high and mighty with his stun baton and witty quips, it was rather amusing to perceive the officer become so submissive as a result of even the slightest touch. Just for you. You were informed of a part of Leland that no one else had ever been allowed to view. It was like you were constantly walking around with some sort of secret, aware of the fact that as soon as the two of you had gained any sort of privacy, Coyle would transform from an arrogant and assured cop, before morphing into a whiney little bitch, only for you.
You often wondered what the reagents would think if they ever perceived Sargent Leland Coyle, the short tempered cop who was quick to violence, acting within such a manner, so accustomed to his violent and angry tendencies.
"Alright." You finally obliged, your hand slipping towards the zipper of his pants "I suppose you're right."
Your blatant movements earned yet another groan from Lelands lips, his figure practically melting against your own, his body relying upon you for support, due to the fact that the promise of sweet release practically weakened him.
Your fingers grasped at the zipper before you began to yank at the small piece of metal, his fly coming undone with the typical zippp audio. Coyle detached his lips form your own before he leaned his head upon your shoulder, cuddling into your form as he allowed you to have your way with him. He always became such a baby when positioned within your grasp.
You reached into the opening of his pants, your hand delving into the confines of his boxers as you grasped at his erect cock. Such an action earned you a borderline mewl from the officer's lips.
Your movements were slow at first, teasing and tormenting the cop with gentle caresses and small movements focused mainly upon the head of his dick. Leland trembled against your shoulder, his hips occasionally bucking upwards as he searched desperately for even the slightest bit of friction. And eventually, you provided him with such attention.
Your movements ventured down the length of his cock, your grip tightening as you began to properly satisfy him. Your hand repeatedly glided up the length of his dick before sliding back downwards, rewarding the officer with calculated caresses. And each occasion in which your palm successfully encountered the base of his dick, completing a proper stroke, Coyle would release a gruff moan.
You were aware of the reality that he would fail to last very long. In fact, Leland rarely ever did. With your hands on him and such gentle attention, soft affection he wasn't quite accustomed to, Coyle always struggled to properly withhold himself. He wasn't familiar with such soft and tender interactions, much more accustomed to rough and harsh affection.
Additionally, such an act of anger and violence towards the two reagents, desperate to properly protect you, had seemingly boosted his drive. Leland had basically gotten high as a result of your praise, pride coursing through his system after properly defending his lover. And such self satisfaction only caused him to become much more sensitive and desperate within your grasp.
"You're such a good cop, you know that? Such a good boy protecting me like that." You cooed, providing him with the praise you knew he so desperately desired.
The officer panted and moaned into your ear, whimpering sweet phrases as he begged for your attention, each tender kiss he received causing him to groan with pleasure.
You were aware of the reality that he was close when he started to distribute more of his weight against your body, practically falling on top of you as he struggled to keep himself steady. Along with the reality that his movements were becoming rather sloppy and jerky, his hips stuttering with every thrust. Leland was becoming impatient and desperate as his conclusion swiftly advanced, just like always.
"God damn it, (Y/N). Ive been such a good boy, please let me cum, let me fucking cum." He whined, his breath hitching within the depths of his throat.
You simply rewarded the officer with a hum of your agreement, providing him with the approval he so desperately desired. Without your permission, it was as if Leland was completely debilitated, unable to finish without a proper sanction from your lips.
With your unfaltering strokes and the expression of your agreement, Coyle had finally received his reward. With a rather deep groan and his hips stuttering upwards, further thrusting into the grasp of your palm, the officer finally came. Leland moaned your name and executed a flood of appreciation as he finished, his cum splattering against your abdomen as he repeatedly whined the same desperate "Thank you." Over and over and over again.
Coyle practically collapsed on top of you, his weight completely reliant upon your own figure as he melted into your grasp. His chest was heaving and sweat dripped from his brow whilst he gasped for air.
After a few moments, successfully regaining his composure, Leland finally pushed himself off of you. The officer wearily reached for his pants before properly readjusting them, successfully returning his spent cock within the confines of his boxers. Coyle then situated the cap upon his head and arranged his sunglasses, attempting to return to his typically assembled appearance.
You reached towards his face, gently caressing the visible scar upon the right side of his head as some sort of display of your affection.
"You're such a good boy, Leland, the best canine a girl could ever ask for." You cooed, a devious little smirk trembling upon your lips.
As if the switch had suddenly been flicked off, Coyle had reverted into the typically irritated and serious version of himself.
"Alright, enough." He stated within a gruff and stern voice, further readjusting his cap as he attempted to return to his signature firm and serious demeanor.
Yet, you weren't ignorant to the slight blush that adorned his features, along with the manner in which he wearily avoided eye contact with each and every scientist the two of you passed upon your way out.
Pairing: Leland Coyle x gender neutral reagent reader
Era: Kill the Snitch
Summary: You are prepared to torture Leland, just as he tortures reagents. However, Coyle wouldn't exactly view such retaliation as torture.
Warnings: Violence, weapons, torture, pain kink (???), and mentions of both death and sexual references.
Word Count: 1,452
Leland Coyle knew you were different from the moment he beheld you.
The older man was accustomed to others fleeing or hiding from him, turning the other direction as soon as they perceived his presence. Reagents would often coward or squirm in front of Leland, their fear reducing them into nothing but a weak little mouse whilst they begged and pleaded for their lives. Typically, reagents would consistently crawl around within the dark, striving towards remaining undetected and hidden within the shadows, in order to properly avoid Sgt. Coyle and his rather unfavorable punishments. Most people were frightened by the older man's simple existence, either the result of his rather disturbingly menacing appearance, or due to his extremely aggressive and violent tendencies.
But not you. No, certainly not.
You did not hide, you failed to become terrified, and you didn't even attempt to remain silent. You did not rely upon the concealment provided by abandoned lockers or forgotten barrels. You failed to burrow yourself into the darkness of a distant corner. Instead, you were rather confident and assured with each and every one of your movements, as if you were completely indestructible.
You did not crawl through the darkness or run from even the slightest signal of his approach, as most other reagents did. Rather, you marched through each room, extremely determined whilst you grasped at every desired object and ruthlessly hunted for keys. Coyle had failed to observe you utilizing an available hiding spot or ducking into the darkness, in order to avoid any form of detection. Not even once did you attempt to conceal your existence. Instead, you remained both proud and confident, as if you feared absolutely nothing at all.
Leland Coyle knew you were different from the moment he approached you.
The police officer had perceived your existence within the dark, the audio of glass crunching beneath your feet and the sound of you tinkering with the generator. Of course, Leland had utilized such an opportunity to his own benefit. You were completely vulnerable whilst trapped within the darkness of such a small room. And he wasn't ignorant to the occasional beep emitted by your dying night vision goggles.
Therefore, he had followed the audio of your movements. He hunted each of your frustrated gasps and irritated huffs as you struggled with the generator. Leland stalked your trail, similar to a hound dog tracking the scent of its prey. He marched towards the small room, all whilst muttering obscene phrases, such as: "I know you're here, little bunny." Or "I can smell your fear."
Yet, when he finally entered the small room, busting through the doorway within the same manner he would have during a raid, Coyle soon discovered that he had not been smelling your fear, as he had previously claimed. Due to the reality that you certainly didn't possess any.
Instead, as soon as he entered the room, situating himself within the entrance and assuming a rather steady position, his confidence causing him to become rather naive and ignorant, Leland was not met by the sight of a vacant area as you ran or hid from him. Rather, he encountered the vision of a brick flying straight towards his face.
Coyle was certainly not prepared for such a blatant act of deviance when the stone collided with his chest, causing him to stumble and grunt. Typically, reagents were prone to hiding or fleeing, distancing themselves as far away from him as possible. However, you simply stood there, your stance wide and your feet planted steady upon the ground. You obviously weren't prepared to run anytime soon. Instead, you were physically challenging him.
Such bold behaviors caused a scowl of anger to etch itself across Lelands lips, frustrated huffs repeatedly tumbling from his lips. No one disrespected Sgt. Coyle, especially not an idiotic reagent, such as yourself. He was in charge, you were to listen to him, didn't you know that? He was implementing the laws, rules you were expected to abide by, not the other way around.
Yet, Leland was not provided with enough time to properly recover from your previous act against him, unable to even mutter some sort of sassy quip or disrespectful insult. Rather, as he regained his footing and adjusted to his spinning vision, the older man swiftly discovered that you were running. But not away from him.
Towards him.
Leland Coyle knew you were different from the moment you shoved him to the ground.
The weight of your frame collided against his own, causing the two of you to release a matching pair of firm grunts, due to the force in which your bodies had slammed together. Your rather bold and courageous act, a physical retaliation in which Sgt. Coyle had never once received from any other reagent, had caused the older man to stumble once more.
However, this time, such an act did not conclude with a simple tripping motion before Leland eventually regained his steady stance. The older man did not stumble and sway for a moment, providing you with enough time to successfully flee the scene. Instead, he was knocked straight to the floor, his back colliding against the concrete and causing all the air to exit his lungs.
As a result, his fingers had eased and his hands became limp, causing his baton to slip from his grasp. The intense force of his body colliding against the concrete floor caused his weapon to tumble from his grip and properly eject itself across the room. Additionally, his police cap toppled from his head, briefly clattering against the ground, and his sunglasses bounced upon his nose.
Leland Coyle knew you were different from the moment you grasped at his baton.
With his vision spinning and whilst he repeatedly gasped for breath, the older man observed as you reached for his baton. And as much as he despised such an action, loathing the reality that another individual was equip with his designated weapon, there was absolutely nothing he could do in response. Leland was completely stunned, his lungs aching for air and his limbs weak. He couldn't even shift his attention towards you, in order to properly observe your movements.
And before he knew it, you had returned before the officer's vision, stepping over his limp body as you positioned yourself above him. Within the exact same manner he was prone to caging his victims beneath his figure, you positioned one foot upon each side of his form, looming over him with a rather menacing grim. You were the exact depiction of a steady and firm mountain, a large mass of land towering over everything below it.
For a moment, Coyle wondered if this is how his victims felt, completely vulnerable and unable to exact any form of revenge. And as much as such a situation had frightened him, the fact that such actions successfully managed to assert his dominance, standing over his enemies whilst spewing random quips, caused a wave of pride to wash over Leland. Was he really this cool? Was he just as intimidating as you currently appeared from above him?
Yet, such self satisfaction was soon obliterated.
Leland Coyle knew you were different from the moment you brought the baton towards his chest.
With wide vision, the older man observed as you lowered the baton to his form, electricity sparking from the weapon and the sound of energy buzzing within his ears, practically deafening him. And before he could do anything to retaliate, you had brought the baton against his chest, ejecting a tsunami of electricity through his system, causing the police officer to convulse from below you.
Yet, your torment didn't last too long before you retrieved the baton from his chest. You rewarded Coyle with a moment of recovery, allowing his heart rate to decrease as he regained his composure.
However, once you were certain that he was not about to pass out, you swiftly slammed the baton back against the firm barrier of his chest once more. And you repeated this process, over and over and over again. You would electrocute Leland until he was upon the brink of unconsciousness, or possible death, before you would remove the baton from his figure, providing him with a moment of recovery before you eventually repeated the process.
You were not determined to murder or kill him within that moment. No. Instead, you were completely captivated by the promise of torturing the officer, just as he had done to you, and many other reagents before. You would not provide the older man with the sweet relief of death just yet.
And Leland Coyle certainly knew you were different from the moment he started to enjoy it.
Summary: You become aquatinted with a random stranger within a music store, without knowing exactly who he is.
Warnings: Fluff
Word count: 2,317
Your fingers carefully brushed against the plastic cases of the CDs in front of you whilst the sound of a random Korn song echoed throughout your headphones. You had just arrived within the small music store about twenty minutes prior, skimming through both the records and cassettes before ultimately locating yourself in front of the CD selection, yearning to add to your increasing collection.
When you had originally entered the small building, there were only two other costumers present, along with a singular employee located behind the counter. The clerk appeared rather detached from the world around him whilst he flipped through the pages of a magazine, listening to music through his own pair of headphones. However, due to your placement before the CDs, your back was currently positioned towards the entrance, causing any individual either exiting or entering the store to become completely undetected by you.
You were currently searching through the stores available selection of Limp Bizkit CDs, looking for an album you had yet to acquire, when the presence of another individual suddenly entered your surroundings. Without desiring to successfully create eye contact between you and the person currently located a few feet beside you, you carefully observed the figure through the corner of your vision.
The mysterious person was a tall male, his head almost stretching past your view as he stood beside you. The stranger was currently searching through the available selection of a few different bands, yet you couldn't exactly discover what specific genre he was actively searching through. His fingers skimmed over a few CDs, repeatedly flipping through the collection before him, either looking for a specific album or just browsing. However, the lettering printed upon the case of each CD was much too far away and small for you to properly decipher.
His hair was dark as it collected within a curly mass upon his head, appearing to be colored an inky hue as it remained rather frizzy and wild upon his skull. The stranger also possessed a rather memorable goatee along with a thick mustache for facial hair, which were also both raven black and curly. Although your vision was somewhat struggling with the task of scrutinizing the individual through the corner of your eyes, you were also able to detect his rather sharp and pointy nose, a flawless feature that possessed a perfectly straight slope.
From his rather admirable clothing style, to his thin and attractive build, along with the reality that he was currently searching through presumably the same genre of music you had been, you couldn't deny the fact that the stranger was extremely handsome and captivating. He was the type of male you often found yourself attracted to, and this reality caused your mind to overflow with rather flustering and anxious thoughts. Whilst you were located so near to the mysterious individual, you had to battle against the overwhelming urge to erupt with a squeal of girlish glee.
It was odd having another person stand so close to you within the small music store; most of the individuals who entered the business were often shy and introverted, pretending to search through other available CDs whilst they patiently waited for you to move out of their desired location. However, this stranger appeared completely unfazed and rather self assured whilst he stood only a foot or two beside you. His close proximity caused a flustered crimson blush to subtly glaze your features.
When your vision promptly traveled back towards the available CDs located beneath your grasp, a unique sound suddenly entered your ears. The noise was muffled as a result of the music currently blasting within your ears. It was obvious the rather peculiar sound had erupted from somewhere within your close proximity, so you swiftly shifted your headphones upon your skull, suddenly deciphering the fact that the unknown noise was the sound of the male next to you attempting to talk.
"Hmm?" You inquired timidly once you slightly turned to successfully face the stranger.
Along with most of the music store's other customers, you were shy and rather meek. You were an introvert yourself, often preferring to remain alone or concealed within the comfortable confines of your home. You enjoyed the reality that you had never been interrupted within the music store, usually remaining completely unbothered whilst you browsed the CD selection and eventually checked out, often never receiving a singular word from another human being, other than the cashier ringing up your desired items.
Therefore, when the stranger beside you had suddenly attempted to gain your attention, you were rather shocked and surprised. You were not used to others randomly talking with you or having mysterious individuals strivings towards getting to know you, so you were rather unfamiliar with the entire situation.
Once your vision had successfully landed upon the male situated beside you, you swiftly discovered that he was already facing you, gazing softly down towards you whilst he waited within anticipation. When you had turned to face the stranger, you were rather surprised to discover that he was already entirely facing you. His subtle smile was rather warm and welcoming whilst his tender and gentle irises stared at you. His rather charming and attractive expression caused a slight tingling sensation to appear within the depths of your stomach as you sheepishly smiled back towards the male.
"Limp Bizkit? Do you like their music?" The male inquired, obviously restating the same question he had previously asked, the muffled noise that had just entered your ears moments prior.
Your vision flicked from the curios male before you down towards the CD currently located within your grasp, a Limp Bizkit album. He was obviously observant and attentive, swiftly deciding upon a conversation topic after analyzing the entire situation. The stranger did not appear anxious or even slightly stressed regarding the task of creating a conversation between a stranger, as if he possessed a large amount of practice within such a category.
The reality that the mysterious male beside you was attempting to further talk to you and inquire about your interest caused the buzzing sensation within your gut to increase whilst your eyes returned to his own. It was rather flattering to have a random stranger so obviously captivated by you. It was not often that you received such questions from an unknown individual. It was very obvious that the male located before you was interested within getting to know you more, something about you had caught his attention within a positive manner, and that completely flustered you.
"Oh, uhm yeah. I like their music, but I like other stuff too." You explained, momentarily becoming awkward whilst you struggled to discover how to further continue the conversation "What about you? Do you like Limp Bizkit?"
The male suddenly flashed a very warm and wide grin within your direction, his eyes squinted shut and his cheeks flushed a jolly red, a smile that caused your stomach to do a flip once more. The stranger appeared to appreciate your inquiry regarding his own personal interest, grateful that you were curious to be informed more about him as well.
"Yes, I like a few of their songs, but Im not a super fan or anything. I like other stuff as well." The male responded casually, subtly smirking whilst he relaxed into a comfortable position leaned against the wooden shelf of CDs currently located beside the two of you.
Suddenly nervous, struggling to discover any way to further the conversation, you smiled awkwardly whilst you shifted your weight from one foot to another. You were obviously much more anxious and nervous compared to the calm and composed stranger before you, your mind overflowed by frantic ideas and desperate notions regarding exactly how to continuously possess the males interest and captivation.
However, the individual before you appeared to perceive your anxiety, along with the fact that you were unsure how to respond, so he completed the task of continuing the conversation. It was rather reassuring to be informed of the reality that the male remained interested within becoming acquainted with you, regardless of the fact that you appeared rather nervous and hesitant before him.
"Whats your name?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in order to further display his genuine curiosity and sincere interest.
You exhaled a relieved sigh, satisfied regarding the fact that he had decided to continue the conversation with another question. You were extremely worried that the male would perceive you as rather odd or weird if you had continued to remain hesitant and shy before him. However, the reality that he had completed the task of asking yet another question relieved you of some pressure.
It was not that you hadn't desired to keep talking with the male, you were just unsure of what else to add. In all honesty, you desired nothing more than to keep chatting with the stranger before you, extremely captivated by both his appearance and charm. You yearned to learn more about him and possibly become acquaintances. Therefore, you desperately desired to continue the conversation, silently loathing your rather socially awkward and timid tendencies.
"My names (Y/N)." You confessed with a bashful smile "What about you?"
The male extended his arm towards you, outstretching a hand, displaying the reality that he was inviting you into a formal and courteous handshake. You politely excepted his offer whilst you grasped onto his palm, firmly shaking whilst you anticipated his response with excitement.
"Serj, my names Serj." He admitted whilst his hand slowly released your own once the physical interaction had finally concluded.
Grateful to have been informed of the males name, you flashed a warm and sincere smile of your own within his direction, attempting to exhibit your genuine appreciation.
You were honestly flattered; it was obvious that the individual before you had desired to learn more about you as well. He was obviously attracted to you within the same manner in which you had been captivated by him. Why else would a random stranger just start to talk to you for no reason?
"Well Serj, it's nice to meet you." You responded politely, anticipating his future statement.
Serj nodded before you, as if he was silently agreeing with your previous claim as he acknowledged the reality that the two of you were slowly becoming introduced with one another. Additionally, the shake of his head further displayed the fact that the male also appreciated the opportunity to become aquatinted with you.
"Its nice to meet you too, (Y/N)." The male momentarily hesitated before eventually continuing "Uhm, I know this is kind of straight forward but, I was wondering if I could get your number? Maybe we can hang out sometime."
As a result of his rather obvious and blunt advances, the rosy hue currently glazing your skin only increased whilst you bashfully giggled. You nodded sheepishly, honestly flattered that a stranger, that you had just met only moments prior, was already asking for your number. It was a rare occurrence for you to be so obviously flirted with and courted by a person you had just met, so you were completely overwhelmed with the sensations of both gratification and appreciation.
You quickly removed a blank sheet of paper, along with a dark pen, from within the depths of your purse. Utilizing the appliances you had just retrieved, you completed the task of jotting down your phone number upon the slip, along with adding your name upon the top of the paper, just incase.
"Alright, Id like that." You confessed with a shy smirk whilst you eventually handed the piece of paper to the male before you.
Serj excepted the offered object with a polite "thank you" along with a subtle nod of his head before he carefully slipped the sheet of paper into the depths of his jean's pocket.
"Look uhm, Ive gotta get going. Im sorry for leaving so suddenly but, Ive got a thing tonight." The reality that the male would soon be disappearing filled you with the slight sensations of both disappointment and sorrow, due to the fact that you had been thoroughly enjoying your shared conversation "But, you should really listen to System Of A Down, their stuffs awesome."
You nodded sheepishly, displaying your silent agreement and acknowledgement of his previous suggestion, all whilst you anxiously fidgeted with the CD currently located within your palm.
"Alright, I will." You declared, earning yet another one of the male's signature warm grins as a result of your agreement.
It was now Serj's turn to nod casually, as if he was silently accepting the entire situation, along with wordlessly pledging to contact you later.
"Okay, cool." The tall man exhaled, as if he was also relieving some of the anxiety and tension he had acquired during the rather intimate and intense interaction "See ya later, (Y/N)."
You responded with a similar farewell whilst Serj headed towards the exit of the store, awkwardly waving towards your direction as you sheepishly blushed within your location. You observed as the male eventually retreated from the store, disappearing out of your sight once he had promptly crossed the street.
You bashfully bit down upon your bottom lip whilst you slowly and rather hesitantly shifted back towards the CDs located before you, as if the entire event had somehow completely messed with your system. You quietly squealed to yourself, yearning to jump and jitter within your position as if you had just met one of your new celebrity crushes, before you promptly began to search for the section in which the System Of A Down albums were located.
The reality that you honestly did just meet a new celebrity crush of yours came crashing down upon you when you discovered your new companions face, the man you had just been introduced to about two or three minutes prior, plastered across each of the album covers.
THAT WAS SO AMAZING, THANK YOU SO MUCH AHHHH 🥹🫶 I really love how you wrote everything !!
- 🫀
Hiiii! Im assuming you’re talking about the Trevor Philips post and I’m really glad you like it :))) I was a bit nervous to post it, just cause I wasn’t very happy with the finished product, but if you like it then I’m happy
I’m thinking jealous Trevor with a very pretty reader. Maybe she got taken under someone's wing because she's smart (idk, that part’s up to you honestly), but she's also extremely impulsive... kind of erratic. He's basically always enabling her just because she's so pretty and sweet to him. Like,, he's always willing to deal with the consequences (like ppl wanting her dead lmao)
And in return, she just lets him do whatever with her without a complaint. She won't even flinch when he randomly grabs her face just to start aggressively kissing her... she'll just kind of stare at him w her cheeks squished between his fingers. Or like how he'll yank her over, pressing her cheek against his bicep kind of holding her there (half in a lock) js because he brought her up in a convo and wants his pretty girl close while he talks about her. He's just weirdly obsessed with her, and she's completely unbothered by it
Anyways, why or how he's jealous is up to you. I just personally love erratic crazy-in-love Trevor. Feel free to change whatever you want about this or to completely ignore it! No pressure
Perfect
Pairing: Trevor Philips x female reader
Era: I did not have a specific time period within mind whilst writing this.
Summary: You are the gentle touch to Trevor's rather rough exterior, and he cant help but to fall for the very person who contradicts all of the violence and chaos he was created from. Yet, his jealousy often gets the best of him, and thats when his affection towards you can often transform into much more firm.
Warnings: Jealousy, slight obsession, swearing, kissing, fluff, and mentions of: Violence, weapons, criminal activity, and more intimate scenarios.
Word Count: 3,841
Trevor and you had first encountered one another when you became one of Michaels pupils. Mike had seemingly started to mentor you; he would teach you many of his tricks and disclose a large amount of important information regarding the criminal industry. He had shared tips upon how to properly rob someone, without being caught, Michael had revealed the manner in which to murder someone without accidentally leaving any sort of evidence, and he had even aquatinted you with some major connections.
Trevor had seen it many times before, Mike taking a young criminal beneath his wing and teaching them the nuts and bolts of the entire trade. Yet, he could never seem to understand it. The idea that there were so many young individuals who were willing to become an apprentice to his best friend was rather astonishing. Within Trevor's mind, it was extremely hard to believe that anyone could possibly consider Michael as anything relatively related to a father figure. The man couldn't even properly parent his own children.
First, it had happened with Franklin, his best friend had started to guide and train the young man, and now it was happening all over again, with you. However, there was a few rather important differences between you and Frank.
One: You were a girl. You were not aggressive or intimidating, similar to most other criminals. Instead, you were rather small and unassuming.
And two: You were absolutely beautiful. To this day, Trevor swears he has never once perceived anything quite as gorgeous as yourself. Within his mind, you were comparable to that of a celestial being, an extraordinary creature who possessed the beauty that a mere human, such as himself, was completely unable to comprehend. You were adorable, attractive, and extremely captivating. The older man often found himself occupied by the thought of your luscious hair and the vision of your flawless frame. Trevor would spend hours simply reminiscing upon your signature scent or remembering the sound of your angelic voice. He just couldn't seem to erase the thought of you from his mind.
And the fact that you were just so fucking perfect only managed to further confused Trevor. Why would you, a young, beautiful, and extremely intelligent woman, decide to partner up with Michael, that old, fat, piece of shit. It was honestly rather amusing to observe you located beside the other man. It was as if you were the epitome of beauty, and Michael was the depiction of Hell on Earth. The entire situation was just extremely foreign to Trevor. Why Mike but not him? He was obviously much more interesting and reliable compared to his best friend. It just didn't make any sense.
Michael had introduced the two of you, rather begrudgingly, during a random mission. Originally, the expedition had only been scheduled for you and your mentor, a job where the two of you would simply execute a home robbery. It was a rather easy and effortless mission for a beginner, such as yourself, and Mike had regarded it as an extremely elementary job to start with. A simple task where you were allowed to gain your composure and further improve your skills.
Yet, Trevor had managed to somehow appear, randomly arriving beside you and Michael whilst the two of you scoped out the unsuspecting home.
It was extremely obvious that your mentor did not desire to acquaint you with the other man, but the entire interaction was seemingly unavoidable. No matter how many times Mike attempted to push his best friend away, both literally and metaphorically, none of his efforts had succeeded. He would beg for Trevor to simply disappear, to leave the two of you alone, and he had even regarded him with some rather choice words. But nothing appeared to work. The other man was comparable to some sort of immovable force.
Mr. Philips was immediately captivated by you, gazing towards you as if you were some sort of blinding light. Within Trevor's mind, the entire world around him had suddenly vanished. Everything within his vision had disappeared into darkness, except you. And the older man worried that he might have been going insane the second muffled, romantic music had started to echo within the confines of his brain.
"My God." Trevor had muttered as soon as he perceived your presence, his tone both hoarse and breathless "You are absolutely beautiful, sweetheart."
Immediately, Michael became extremely defensive, seemingly attempting to protect you from the stranger in front of you. Your mentor blatantly dismissed the other man, expressing his desperation for him to simply disappear. Mike was aware of the fact that every time T had managed to arrived, things had always went South.
"Jesus, Trev, don't be a fucking creep. Leave her alone." Michael spat, puncturing his elbow against the other mans torso, in an attempt to physically shove him away.
Typically, Trevor would become enraged by such a gesture. The other man was easily offended and insulted by others, and he did not appreciate being referred to as such names. He was quick to anger and determined to defend himself, especially when he was blatantly disrespected by others.
However, within that moment, it was as if nothing else appeared to exist within his mind, except for you. Michael could have called him a shit eating dog fucker, and Trevor wouldn't have even noticed. It was as if you were some sort of all encompassing being to the older man, and the entire world had become both muffled and hazy around him.
"She is an absolute doll, Mikey. Where did you get her?" Trevor inquired, guiding a gentle hand towards your hair before he started to tenderly twirl your locks between his grimy fingers.
Trevor was only further astonished when you had failed to reject his rather bold gesture. Usually, women were often rather unnerved or irritated by the older mans general existence, blatantly rejecting him and not afraid to voice their repulsion. He was accustomed to receiving slaps or hits from women, after he had regarded them within a rather odd manner, such as caressing their hair or gazing towards them without shame.
But not you. No. Instead, you simply just stood there, smiling softly up towards Trevor whilst he continued to twirl your hair between his fingers. In fact, you didn't even flinch. You remained dormant within your position, calm and rather flustered whilst the older man consistently caressed your locks.
From the older mans perspective, it was as if you were some sort of flawless nymph standing before him, displaying your adorable smile and viewing him with soft vision whilst you allowed him to repeatedly pet you, as if you were just some small, fragile animal. You did not regard Trevor with fear or terror, as most others did. Instead, it appeared as if you rather enjoyed his display of affection, completely unbothered and rather content.
"What the fuck are you doing, T!?" Michael suddenly declared, a mixture of confusion, hysteria, and slight disgust audibly laced within his voice, as if the man before you was some kind of dangerous creature, a being you should be extremely cautious of. But within your mind, Trevor appeared rather cute as he twirled your hair, an adorable expression of captivation etched across his features whilst he adored you. It had been a long while since someone had last admired you so boldly, and you cant deny the reality that you rather enjoyed it "Stop fuckin' touchin' her, she's not some fucking toy."
As your mentor spoke, he swiftly brought a firm hand up towards your hair before harshly slapping Trevor's adventurous palm away from your locks. It was an obvious attempt to physically detach the other man from you, literally removing his hand from your hair.
Yet, it was as if Trevor hadn't even perceived Michael's gesture. The other man did not glare within his best friends direction before quickly beginning to scold his rather blunt actions. Instead, Trevors hand just slowly started to migrate back towards your face, as if there was some sort of invisible, magnetic force drawing the two of you together.
In all honesty, you had rather enjoyed the older mans affection. You weren't exactly sure why, being both pet and caressed by a filthy drug addict had never been something you had quite enjoyed. However, within regards to Trevor, it was as if you had just become cognitive. You were suddenly aware of a fact about yourself that you had never previously considered.
For the brief moment that Michael had successfully managed to tear the other man's hand away from your hair, for the few seconds that you lacked the warm touch you received from Trevor, a hollow pit of emptiness had suddenly appeared within the depths of your stomach. Similar to the sensation you would perceive only moments before you began to cry. It was as if the older man's grasp had been the one thing you never knew you required, the final piece of the puzzle that made you feel complete.
Following that day, it was never just you and Michael ever again. As much as your mentor had despised such a situation, Trevor had always managed to infiltrate your time spent together. No matter if you were participating within some sort of mission, or simply hanging out together, the older man had always managed to appear. And you didn't quite mind. In fact, you rather preferred such a reality.
Michael wasn't ignorant to the manner in which Trevor had started to alter your behaviors. Sure, you had always been rather daring and confident, as if you were physically drawn to any form of thrill or excitement. However, when the other man was located by your side, you evolved from both courageous and determined, into much more dangerous and rather foolish. Your confidence was no longer calculated and assured. Instead, you had become rather naive and foolish with your bravery.
Trevor would encourage you to participate within rather idiotic or stupid activities, such as murdering random civilians or jumping across roof tops. Actions that were in no way beneficial, and rather just simply stupid. The older man would inspire you to rob convenience stores upon a whim or persuade you into drunken street races. Anything that avidly put yourself in danger.
Yet, you never appeared skeptical or scared. You did not object and you failed to correct Trevor's rather immature directions. In fact, you seemed completely thrilled, enthusiastic in regards to anything that even slightly excited you. Every time the older man had successfully managed to persuade you into murdering an innocent civilian or battling against the police, you seemed extremely prepared, as if there was nothing else within the entire world you would rather participate within.
Everything Michael had previous feared was slowly becoming a reality: He wasn't molding you into a mini version of himself, a delinquent who was both smart and calculated with their decisions. No. Instead, you were transforming into a young, female version of Trevor Philips. You were acting completely erratic and untamed, like a wild animal that had just regained its freedom after escaping from the confines of a zoo.
However, no matter how much shit you had caused, whether that be selling drugs or kidnapping people, the older man would never allow you to actually get into much trouble. In fact, he always took the blame. Trevor would go to jail for you, he would murder the enemies you had created, and he would actually put himself in physical danger, simply in order to protect you. You could have bombed the literal Federal Investigation Bureau, and the older man would have claimed it was him who had executed such an act, just to shield you from any form of punishment.
Soon enough, you found yourself spending a lot more time along side the other man, rather than Michael. You were no longer occupying your afternoons by participating within simple robberies with your mentor. In fact, you had failed to even respond to his numerous messages. Instead, you were much more preoccupied with Trevor. You would take part within major missions, dangerous tasks, and criminal activity together.
Your adventures with Trevor were fun, thrilling, and exciting. It was always interesting to be chased by the police. But with Michael, everything was a lot more business like. There was no fun allowed when working along side Mike, it was all so serious.
Trevor wasn't afraid to boast about his victory or shit talk his best friend, as if you were some sort of trophy he had managed to achieve. Whether you were simply spending time together, or actively participating within a mission, Trevor would not pass up the opportunity to declare something along the lines of: "See? Aint this so much better than hanging out with that bastard, Michael?" Or "Come on, sweetheart, your Uncle T knows how to treat you better than any other man." And it was always extremely obvious who he was referring to within such statements.
Slowly, things between you and Trevor had started to shift. You were no longer working together as accomplices, simply acting as partners or companions. Unlike with Michael, things with the other man were rather blurred and relaxed. Instead, Trevor effortlessly revealed his true emotions towards you, and they certainly were not considered business casual or appropriate.
Whilst located within his truck together, as Trevor was driving the vehicle and you were simply positioned within the passenger seat, the older man would subtly managed to wrap his arm around your shoulders before forcefully dragging you against his side. Just so he could be closer to you whilst driving. Or sometimes, whilst the two of you were relaxing within his home, watching some shitty movie together, the older man would suddenly grasp your face. Trevor would squish your features between his large palms, caressing your skin beneath the pads of his thumbs whilst simply admiring you. And when you would finally inquire about exactly what he was doing, the older man would simply state something along the lines of "You're just so gorgeous, doll. I cant help but adore you."
Trevor was a rather jealous and protective creature, extremely defensive and loyal in regards to what he considered his.
If you were simply interacting with another man, even if it was just Ron or Wayde, the older man's resentment would never fail to appear. If you were chatting with Ron or joking with Wayde, Trevor would practically appear out of thin air. The older man would promptly capture you within his large arms, wrapping his thick hands around your waist, and constricting you against his figure so intensely, you would often struggle to breath.
Even if you were simply ordering your food at a restaurant, or purchasing items within a convenience store, Trevor was not afraid to display the fact that you belonged to him. The older man would suddenly appear behind you, looming beside you like some sort of evil beast. He would glare towards the other individual, his features shrouded within darkness as he attempted to assert his dominance. And as some sort of extra precaution, he would sometimes wrap his arm around your neck.
At first, such a gesture could be perceived as rather affectionate and sweet. But, as his muscles constricted around your throat and he blatantly strained his biceps, it was obvious that Trevor was simply attempting to display his superiority and ward off any other competitors.
Yet, you would never object. Instead, you'd simply continue talking as if nothing was occurring and everything was completely normal. Such events often rewarded you with both weary and hesitant glances from random civilians, as if they were truly concerned regarding your safety. However, you were aware of the reality that Trevor would never truly harm you. Within the older mans mind, you were just a delicate little flower, and he could never even consider stomping upon you. Instead, he was simply just defending what was his. Although his behaviors were often rather rough or harsh, his motives were always tender. It was as if you were a collection of food Trevor had gathered for the winter, and he was determined to destroy anyone who attempted to steal what was rightfully his.
Even though the two of you had never officially become boyfriend and girlfriend, Trevor wasn't afraid to act as such. The older man would call you every morning and each night, spewing affection words dipped within honey as he referred to you as the 'love of his life.' You would often discover small gifts and adorable presents within your mailbox, items Trevor had viewed and was basically required to reward you with. He wasn't afraid to hold your hand or wrap his arms around you, a gesture that friends certainly never executed towards one another. And the older man would often refer to you as if you were his own possession, like you were just for him and no one else.
If you were relaxing within his trailer, splayed across his lap whilst he massaged your back, Trevors rather protective and jealous tendencies would never fail to reveal themselves.
"You never did nothing like this with Mikey, right? I swear to God, if that slimy rat ever-" the older man would begin, each caress and tender rub upon your skin becoming much more harsh and intense with every second his resentment increased.
Trevor was prone to becoming extremely frantic and irrational. If a rather negative thought had managed to burrow itself within his mind, no matter how outrageous it truly was, the older man would instantly become crazed. And within that moment, Trevor had been overwhelmed with the sensation of both anger and rage regarding such a notion, before you had even managed to respond.
Yet, you would quickly interrupt him, successfully dismissing the older mans insecurities before he had eventually managed to explode with fury. And if you had been anyone else, like Ron or Michael, such an interjection would have certainly infuriated Trevor. But with you, he did not mind. In fact, he didn't even notice. You could have slapped the older man across the face, and he probably would have thanked you.
"No, Trev, I never did anything like this with Michael. Only you." You would declare the honest truth, and such a statement always appeared to properly satisfy the older man.
No matter how manic or insane Trevor truly became, whether he was overwhelmed with anger or struggling with sorrow, you would always regard him within such a tender manner. The older man was accustomed to others referring to him with hatred or even violence. But with you, it was entirely different. He could be throwing objects around his trailer, completely overpowered with rage, and you would always treat him as if he was the most delicate creature upon planet Earth. As if he somehow deserved both your patience and affection. And your rather tender and gentle actions only further pleased Trevor.
One evening, following a rather stressful mission where both weapons and violence had been included, you and Trevor were situated within his truck. He had nestled the vehicle within the depths of the mountains, attempting to escape the evasion of the law whilst the two of you both recovered and regained your energy.
The sun had started to set, casting an array of tangerine and marigold hues through the windshield of his truck. Rather quiet music was echoing through the radio, some sort of metal or rock that Trevor favored, whilst the two of you simply sat together. Typically, the older man would be talking, rambling about some sort of none sense you could barely comprehend, all whilst you nodded politely. However, within that moment, the two of you were quiet, simply enjoying each others presence.
The audio of fabric rustling and the weight of Trevor's movements had captured your attention. You glanced towards the older man and perceived the manner in which he had successfully managed to shift within your direction. And as some sort of reward, you had stirred within your seat as well, situating yourself until you were properly facing him.
Trevor's movements were both swift and rapid, his limbs blurring as he reached forwards. His motions had been so quick, the image reminded you of a snake attacking its prey.
The older man had secured his gripped upon your face, clasping his hands around your cheeks and compressing your features within his grasp. At first, you weren't alarmed, assuming that he was simply about to admire you, as he always did. You expected him to gaze into your irises, adoring you with a rather soft and smitten expression plastered across his face.
However, when Trevor swiftly managed to drag you across the expanse of the bench, successfully pinning his face against your own, you momentarily squealed. Your lips connected within a rather harsh and intense manner, causing your teeth to clash and your nose to nudge against his own.
Your hands flew up to the older man's firm shoulders, rewarding him with a rather weak shove. Yet, Trevor did not budge. Instead, he kept his face practically glued to your own whilst he completely devoured your mouth. He lapped and nipped at your lips, his tongue diving into the depth of your mouth as he allowed himself to further explore and savor your taste.
Once your mind had finally acknowledged the fact that it was Trevor who was currently kissing you, the man who had always been so extremely gentle and soft towards you, the individual who had somehow managed to infiltrate each and every one of your waking thoughts, your struggle had slowly ceased.
The older man's attack upon your mouth continued for a long while. He failed to conclude the kiss or detach your lips. Instead, the two of you remained glued together for another ten minutes of so, all whilst Trevors exploration of your mouth persisted.
You practically melted into the embrace. Your hands drifted up the expanse of his neck, tangling your fingers within his thin locks, and even rewarding him with a few, gentle tugs, which he appeared to greatly appreciate, due to the manner in which he would slightly whimper.
Nothing more had transpired that evening. It was as if Trevor was struggling against his own, primal urges, determined to express his appreciation through a much more tender and soft manner, rather than his usual depraved and desperate tendencies. Typically, the older man was prone to sex, regarding it as some sort of transaction. But with you, he was within no rush. Even though he desired nothing more than to simply toss you down upon his bed and finally revel within the sensation of your body wrapped around his own, the older man somehow managed to control himself.
Within Trevors mind, you were absolutely perfect. A flawless and fragile little creature, and he just couldn't bring himself to treat his special little flower with such rough intensity. At least, not yet.
Era: I did not have a specific time period within mind.
Summary: How Trevor would act if you randomly came home with a pet cat.
Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and mentions of intimate scenarios
Word count: 1,711
Originally, Trevor was extremely against getting any sort of pet. The older male had always expressed his disapproving opinions whenever you brought up the idea of purchasing some sort of dog or even a cat. He claimed that they were too much work, he disliked the notion of requiring to return home in order to bring the dog outside or feed the cat. Pets just appeared as though they were too much work and a very big responsibility that Trevor was not yet ready to commit to. And he further expressed his beliefs when you returned to your shared apartment one day whilst supporting an arm full of cat items and a large box positioned within your free hand.
"What the fuck is all of that?" The older male inquired once you shut the door behind you, slamming it closed utilizing the force of your heel against the wood.
You carefully set the box upon the floor before suddenly tossing each of the small toys across the house. The older male watched within silence as you situated a few cat beds around the apartment, placed both a food and water bowl within the kitchen, and scattered small toys shaped like mice and fish across the floor.
"Cat stuff." You eventually responded, your remark short and nonchalant.
Trevor huffed as he placed his palms upon his hips, shifting his vision towards the ground as he bit his lip within frustration. The older male did not seem to appreciate your slight sass and cheek. He could obviously perceive the fact that the small beds and lousy toys were cat toys, but he couldn't understand why you had decided to purchase such items. Thats until you returned to the large box you had discarded by the front entrance and slowly opened it.
The older male observed within pure silence, shock, and slight frustration, whilst a thin feline step out of the container. The cat appeared slightly nervous, subtly trembling as it sniffed at the floor before timidly peaking up towards you. Once you had rewarded the small creature with a gentle pat upon its head, Trevor observed as the feline began to pur, rubbing its body against your legs as it yearned for more attention and affection.
"What the fuck, (Y/N)?" Trevor suddenly hollered, his loud voice momentarily jumping the small animal before it returned to the task of rubbing against your legs "I told you, I don't want any pets."
To Trevor's displeasure, you remained both relaxed and calm. You continued to stroke and caress the cat, humming and praising the small animal whilst it seemingly did nothing. The fact that you were behaving so carelessly, not appearing to pay any attention to your lovers negative emotions, only further frustrated the male.
"I know, thats why Dingus is my cat. I'll feed him and take care of his litter box." You stated before continuing "And besides, this is my apartment, I pay the rent."
Your lover huffed, suddenly aware of the fact that he was unable to argue against your previous statements. If you were going to take care of the feline, manage each of the responsibilities, and along with the fact that this was technically your apartment, he could not rationally oppose you any longer.
Trevor remained silent, observing the creature as you continued to praise and pet him. The cat, Dingus, was rather fluffy. He possessed a large and soft tail that constantly flicked and fluttered as a result of each of your pats. Furthermore, he was completely gray, no stripes or white spots present upon its entire body. Trevor had never seen a cat so entirely gray before, it appeared as though it was a crude drawing a young child had completed of a cat, with only the usage of a pencil.
"Okay, well, it's an ugly thing with a stupid name. No wonder its mother left it." Trevor spat, attempting to further agitate you just as much as he was, yet his strives appeared unsuccessful.
At first, Trevor appeared to despise Dingus; your lover would lock the animal out of the bedroom every night, he would lightly push him away if he ever attempted to cuddle with him, and he would always yell for you to "Come and get this stupid thing!" If Dingus had ever decided to follow him around the apartment. The older male growled every time you showed the feline any sort of affection, he loathed observing you play with the small animal, and you often found Trevor attempting to shoo the creature out of the house. However, it always amused you when Dingus would respond to your lovers frustrated shooing with small meows and delightful purring. Every time Trevor would attempt to lightly push the feline out the front door, Dingus would just come right back before rubbing against the older males boots.
However, overtime, Trevors behaviors and feelings towards the cat began to alter and transform.
Whenever the older male would return home after a long day of criminal activity, he would often enter the front door whilst supporting an arm full of treats and toys for the feline. Furthermore, Trevor had quickly began to greet Dingus first whenever he had returned to the apartment. He would step through the front door before getting onto his knees and rewarding the cat with a few scratches, pats, and even whispering affectionate statements within Dingus' ears, before he would eventually greet you afterwards.
Whenever you would return home, late into the night, and long after Trevor had retreated to the apartment that day, you would often discover the male fast asleep upon the couch whilst cuddling the feline within his arms. Dingus would always be purring and gently brushing against Trevors stubble, and there was often evidence of shared interactions, such as treat bags left open upon the counter, or remote controlled cat toys scattered across the floor.
During the day, Trevor could often be found cuddling, playing, or providing the cat with an ample amount of treats. Once the older male had discovered his love for the feline, Dingus had seemed to transform into a large and fat house cat, as a result of Trevors avid feeding of treats. However, if you ever even contemplated pointing out Dingus' excessive weight gain, Trevor would become extremely offended before covering the felines ears and harshly claiming something along the lines of: "Theres just more of him to love!" Or "Don't body shame him, (Y/N), he can hear you, ya know!"
Furthermore, if you and Trevor ever attempt to take part within some sort of date night, the event was always cut short as a result of your lovers concern regarding the cat. For example, if you and the older male were attending a bar together, Trevor would not hesitate to drive the two of you home, whilst he is extremely drunk, simply due to the fact that "We have to go home and feed Dingus, he's gonna starve to death!" And the one time you responded with "That cat has enough fat to survive the whole winter without eating." Trevor would not even look at you for two days, never mind even considering talking with you.
Trevor would not let the two of you fall asleep within bed without Dingus; it was as if the cat had become some sort of emotional support animal or an odd obsession for the older male. It had all began when one night, you had shut the door before getting comfortable within bed, without noticing that Dingus had desired to join the two of you. As a result, the cat began to intensely cry and meow from right outside the door, as if he was being tortured. After the first meow of agony had echoed into the room, Trevor practically jumped out of bed and flew towards the door. Within seconds, he had returned with Dingus cradled within his arms, scratching his belly and cooing whilst the feline purred and brushed his head against Trevor's chest.
At first, you didn't seem to mind Dingus' presence within the bedroom at night, enjoying the way in which the cat would cuddle and sleep between the two of you all night. That was until you perceived one rather important detail. Trevor absolutely refused to touch you within any sort of intimate or sexual manner if the cat was within the vicinity.
"We cant do that right now, sugar, Dingus is right there! He's much too young for this sort of thing. And hell be scarred for life if he sees mommy and daddy making another little Dingus." Trevor had exclaimed, his brows raised whilst he supported an expression of sincere disbelief regarding such an advance you had made upon him.
You had never once observed your lover reject any sort of intimate or sexual interaction. And due to the fact that Trevor practically required to cuddle Dingus every night whilst the two of you slept, your rather intimate interactions slowly began to decrease as sex became some sort of rare occasion.
As much as you adored Trevors fondness towards the cat, considering it rather cute how much he appeared to baby and favor the small animal, you were a very sexually driven being. Therefore, each time the two of you would have sex, it would occur somewhere rather risky and dangerous, such as upon the beach, within the movie theater, or even inside his truck.
However, Trevor was absolutely mortified when the two of you were fucking within his truck in the driveway when he gazed up towards the living room window and discovered Dingus intensely watching the two of you. The older male was acting as though the two of you had just been caught by your parents whilst having sex within the living room. Trevor jumped from his position and quickly grabbed his clothes before covering himself.
"Dingus! You naughty naughty boy, you're a pervert, you." Trevor exclaimed once the two of you had returned to your apartment following the previously described events, pointing a finger rather harshly within the felines face "You must get that from your daddy."
You giggled whilst you observed the cat lean forward and begin to brush his face against the tip of Trevors finger.
Summary: You and Michonne are tasked with completing a supply hunt. But, when the car you selected to travel with eventually dies, the two of you have to find a place to hide as it becomes night.
Warnings: Violence, weapons, swearing, fluff, kissing, hugging, suggestive statements, and mentions of more intimate situations.
Word Count: 3,591
You and Michonne had been dispatched upon a scavenging mission about eight hours prior. Things had been going well in the beginning; utilizing one of the vehicles from the prison, the two of you had traveled to a few towns located near by. The pair of you foraged through these small communities, but often discovered little to no supplies at all. One of you might have possibly found a book Carol was interested within, or maybe even a toy for one of the younger children, but nothing of serious use, such as: Food, water, or ammo.
When the two of you had scoured through a variety of the surrounding towns and eventually came up empty handed, Michonne had suggested that the two of you should travel a little farther, maybe drive to a neighboring town located a few more miles away. It was a better idea then returning to the prison after hours of searching with absolutely nothing to show for it.
Therefore, you had agreed. The two of you climbed back into the small car you had utilized from the prison and started venturing towards a town you had selected from upon the map. By the time you had arrived within the community, it was around five in the afternoon. Both of you were aware of the fact that you were extremely pushing time and testing your luck, but you were each determined to discover something useful to return with.
Furthermore, you rather enjoyed spending time with the mysterious woman.
In the beginning, the two of you were quick to become close companions, due to the fact that both of you had originally arrived within the prison around the same time. The pair of you were skeptical and suspicious of the new group of people, aware of the fact that you were two random strangers they had just met. Therefore, you two would be the first to be turned upon if anything rather negative had occurred. Therefore, you stuck together; the two of you bunked together, completed tasks together, and practically went everywhere together.
And you would be lying if you claimed that you hadn't developed some more rather intimate and romantic emotions towards the other woman. You were always aware of the fact that you were rather interested within individuals of the same gender as you, often possessing some sort of attraction or captivation towards another women. But you had been unsuccessful at achieving any sort of more intimate interaction further than just kissing, a result of your overwhelming anxiety and embarrassment.
In reality, you were quite intimidated by women; you were scared to embarrass yourself or possibly mess up when it regarded individuals of the same gender. You had discovered that it was rather simple to please and satisfy men, they were easy and extremely sexual beings, and any sort of touch or intimate interaction you shared with a male had them basically spiraling. However, women appeared much more complicated. You worried that you were expected to know exactly how to pleasure a woman, due to the fact that you were one. But you were extremely unexperienced when it regarded people of the same gender.
However, something about your companion had quickly seemed to captive you. Her signature devious smirk had always flustered you, her deep and insightful irises had seemed to hypnotize you, and every occasion in which your fingers would even lightly brush together or the two of you would participate within a platonic embrace had you practically melting. Maybe it was how much time the two of you spent together, or possibly the reality that you had become extremely close during such a serious and traumatic time period, but whatever the reason may have been, you were desperate to be surrounded by Michonne almost 24/7.
You and the women had completed the task of searching through the small town around seven that evening, when the sun was starting to set and the sky was becoming dark. You were very aware of the fact that you had extremely pushed time and were now captured within the dark of the night, when things became much more dangerous and rather scary. However, the two of you had collected an impressive amount of food, water, and even some other weapons, so it all felt completely worth it.
Yet, things only appeared to got worse when the pair of you returned to the small vehicle, arms full of supplies, just to discover that it would no longer start. You remained positioned wearily outside of the car whilst Michonne fiddled with the keys, swearing and cursing beneath her breath whenever the engine would subtly buzz but ultimately fail to start.
Although you had spent months outside of the prison, you were never considered very confident or rather dangerous. Your previous community had utilized you to grow crops and sew new clothing when you started to run out. You were never very experience when it came to battling or fighting walkers, especially compared to Michonne's ample practice.
Once the pair of you had completely given up upon the car, the other women had almost instantly perceived your rather obvious anxiety and fear as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, continuously scanning your surroundings with frantic eyes. Michonne slowly stepped from the vehicle and carefully sauntered over towards you, capturing your figure against her own as she invited you into a comforting embrace.
As her palms wrapped around your torso and she compressed your frame against her own, you couldn't help but melt into the embrace. Your palms danced their way around her waste and grasped onto her for support. Additionally, the other women leaned forward and lightly connected her temple with your own, the tips of your noses touching whilst the two of you gazed into one another's eyes.
"(Y/N), hey, calm down." She whispered, her voice both low and quiet, due to the fact that she didn't want to attract the attention of any unwanted guests "Im not gonna let anything happen to you, you know that. I'll always be here to protect you."
You and Michonne had always been rather close and some what intimate for friends, often cuddling one another during cold nights or playing with each other's hair. And each of these rather personal interactions you shared always caused your heart to begin to flutter and made a rosy hue subtly glaze your features.
"Yeah, I know." You hummed whilst slightly nodding, the two of you closing your eyes to momentarily relax into one another's grasp.
To your dismay, the sensation of the other woman's body wrapped around your own quickly vanished, causing your eyes to flicker open. You observed as Michonne collected a few bottles of water and a small variety of different foods and snacks, before abandoning the rest of the supplies within the vehicle.
"We're not gonna find any way to get home tonight, so we'll just have to hunker down and find somewhere safe to sleep until morning." She explained whilst presenting you with your own portion of the supplies she had previously selected "Tomorrow, we'll find another car to take home and well grab this stuff before we leave. We couldn't possibly walk all the way back to the prison, we'll need some sort of vehicle."
In order to display your acknowledgement, you vigorously nodded your head, much too nervous and frightened to properly speak. With her empty hand, Michonne grasped onto your own palm, lacing your fingers together before she lead you through the desolate and deserted streets.
The sky had almost entirely transformed into pitch black by the time the two of you had successfully discovered a rather promising location to hide together. The women assisted you within the task of creeping through the abandon roads and properly avoiding threatening zombies, before the two of you arrived before a forgotten bank.
"This is good, this will be good." She muttered, as if she was also attempting to reassure herself whilst she mainly strived towards comforting you "Im sure they have some sort of vault we can lock ourself in for the night."
Remaining silent, you nodded once again, allowing Michonne to lead you inside the entrance of the building without any sort of objection, your fingers still intertwined. When you first entered the main lobby of the bank, it was completely empty. The glass windows had been shattered and there were papers scattered all across the floor, but there was not a single zombie within sight.
As a result of Michonne's pure sensations of determination, along with the responsibility of protecting you, the other women quickly dragged you towards a door located to your right. Seemingly, without any sort of thought or consideration, she pried the door open rather recklessly. Once the door had been successfully yanked wide, there were about five zombies revealed within the large conference room.
You repressed a gasp as you suddenly jolted backwards. You observed as Michonne unleashed her sword and quickly turned back to face you. The expression upon her features was a mixture of mainly confidence, along with slight surprise and distress.
"(Y/N), go to that other door, alright? I have a feeling that one will be empty with all of these walkers locked in here." She commanded rather dominantly whilst she explained the entire situation "You go hide in there, and you don't move or do anything until I come back. You stay hidden until I find you, okay?"
Although you were extremely against the notion of promptly ditching Michonne, basically abandoning her to become eaten by zombies, you were aware of the reality that her plan was the most reasonable option. You weren't a strong fighter, so your presence would have just caused the entire situation to become much more tense and dangerous. Furthermore, you were aware of the fact that the other women was capable to defending herself. You would be more surprised if she ended up dying that night than if she hadn't.
"O-Okay." You mumbled, trembling as a result of the rather intense and terrifying situation.
As much as you yearned to remain by Michonne's side, to prove your strength by assisting her within the task of defeating the walkers, you simply obeyed her commands. You took off sprinting towards the other door located across the lobby, not allowing yourself to even momentarily glance back towards your companion, due to the fear of what you might witness.
As you began to fumble with the knob of the door, you prayed that the other women would have been correct, that no other zombies would be concealed within the other room as a result of the reality that they were all successfully locked behind the first door. And as you swung the second door open, you discovered that Michonne had been correct.
Behind door number two was just an empty office. Papers were scattered across the floor and the entire room appeared to be previously ransacked, but you had failed to discover any zombies. Therefore, you quickly dashed into the small room and successfully slammed the door shut behind you.
You crawled beneath an overturned desk, successfully concealing yourself behind the wooden piece of furniture as you curled up into a defensive ball. You perceived the sound of Michonne's repetitive grunts from outside the door, along with the continuous echo of growling walkers. You couldn't help but bring your palms up to your ears, successfully drowning out the rather gruesome noises.
After about five minutes, you perceived the fact that the entire building had suddenly fell silent. There was no more sign of Michonne's grunts or the walkers grumbles, it was just completely mute. Fear entirely overpowered your entire system for a moment as you quickly thought of the worst possible scenario. And the sound of the door slowly squeaking open only further intensified your terror.
With wide eyes and trembling palms, you listened to the sound of slow and heavy footsteps striding across the room. You imagined a zombie clambering towards you, following the scent of your blood and flesh as it advanced upon you. Your vision began to grow blurry whilst moist tears of terror quickly filled your eyes.
However, as soon as a familiar boot stepped around the edge of the desk, you erupted with a sigh of reassurance. You quickly glanced up to confirm your beliefs and thats when you discovered Michonne.
The other women was covered within splatters of blood and she was supporting a rather nervous and worried expression of her own. As soon as your mind had comprehended the reality that it wasn't a walker that had snuck into the room, and that it had actually been your dearest companion, you practically bounded from your position.
You flew up to your feet before quickly capturing Michonne within a tight embrace. The two of you wrapped your arms around each other's torsos and compressed your chests together, nuzzling your head into the crook of the woman's neck as you lightly swayed within each others grasp. And you couldn't help but begin to cry against Michonne's exposed skin.
"Oh my God, you fucking scared me." You whispered, voice trembling as you spoke "I thought you were dead. Don't ever sneak up on me like that again."
The echo of Michonne's rather hypnotizing chuckle captured your attention and you removed your features from the curve of her neck, gazing up towards her with both a wide grin along with tears streaming down your cheeks.
"You scared me." The other women teased with a giggle "I didn't know what to expect when I came in here. And when I opened the door and couldn't see you, I expected the worst."
For some reason, you executed a rather daring and unexpected motion following Michonnes previous explanation. Maybe it was a result of the overwhelming amount of adrenaline coursing through your entire system, still on high alert after the previous circumstance. Or, it was due to the other woman's rather heart warming and gratifying statement, confessing to the reality that she was just as nervous and worried as you had previously been. Whatever the reason may have been, it caused you to lean upwards upon the tips of your toes and plant a firm kiss against the other woman's lips.
Michonne didn't appear to protest, she didn't yank her head away or express her disgust. In all honesty, she seemed to somewhat except your connection. You pressed your lips against her own and created a rather heated and passionate kiss, your tears transferring onto her cheeks as you compressed your faces together. Your arms remained wrapped around one another, pulling your bodies together as you pressed the weight of your figure against Michonne's chest.
However, as soon as the reality of what you had just executed had came crashing down upon you, you ripped your head away. Your cheeks were burning and your eyes were opened wide, the previous fear and terror once again overwhelming your entire system, but as a result of a much different reason this time.
"I-Im so sorry! I don't know why I did that. I think the entire situation just stressed me out, Im all over the place." You attempted to explain yourself, laughing awkwardly in a strive towards lightening the rather uncomfortable situation.
However, the other women remained silent. Her vision was unfaltering as she gazed towards your lips, her own mouth left slightly parted open as she appeared to become struck by the previous intimate embrace. Her rather deafening silence only further stressed you out.
"Im sorry." You whispered once more, but much more sincere and less jokingly this time as you glanced down towards the ground, in an attempt to avoid her intimidating eye contact.
You were terrified that the other women was possibly mad or disgusted, that you had just completely destroyed the most important relationship within your life. However, as the silence continued, the sensation of Michonne's finger beneath your chin subtly startled you. You flinched as the other woman slowly lifted your head, forcefully focusing your attention upon her once more.
"No..." Michonne whispered, hesitating for a moment before continuing "No, don't be sorry."
Before you could even considering responding to her previous statement, her lips were attached to yours once more. This time, the kiss appeared much more passionate, intense, and meaningful. This interaction was the result of actual consideration and thought, not due to extremely overwhelming adrenaline. And the reality that Michonne had actually decided upon kissing you on purpose caused a fluttering sensation to appear within the depths of your stomach.
As the kiss progressed from an innocent smooch into a much more heated make out session, you couldn't help but become overwhelmed by both the extreme pounding of your anxious heart, along with the throbbing between your legs.
The other woman's hand traveled up towards your cheek, her palm caressing your face whilst her other hand adventured towards the small of your back. Utilizing her palm against your spine, Michonne, further compressed your body against your own, as if she was attempting to become as close to you as she could possibly manage, whilst her adventurous tongue dipped into the confines of your mouth.
As the other women gently guided you backwards, carefully pushing you towards the edge of the desk behind you, you couldn't help but exhale a rather embarrassing whimper whilst her tongue danced against your own. Your own arms wrapped themselves around her neck, grasping and subtly yanking at the strands of her hair.
Once your body had successfully encountered the desk behind you, the other women began to lightly press her waist against your own, a strive that earned another soft mewl of pleasure from your lips. The pressure of her clothed core pushing against your own caused a bolt of satisfaction to pulsate within your entrance.
Suddenly, the hand upon your back was traveling towards the hem of your shirt, and as much as you yearned for nothing more than this entire interaction to further continue, your rather negative and nervous thoughts appeared to get the best of you. You were inexperienced and rather shy, especially regarding the idea of revealing your nude body to a women you had been so desperately aroused by for months at that point. You were terrified by the possibility of Michonne becoming disgusted or repulsed by your figure.
Your palms flew down from her neck and grasped at her wrists, momentarily halting her movements whilst you slowly pulled your lips away from her own. You could feel your skin burning as you gazed into Michonne's curious eyes with an expression of pure anxiety.
"Wait." You panted, chest heaving whilst you attempted to gain the confidence to continue "Wait uhm. Its just that, well this is embarrassing, and its not like I don't want things to continue, but-"
You found yourself rambling, terrified by the notion of admitting to the fact that you were extremely inexperienced when it came to relationships with women. The thought of confessing that you had never done anything more intimate with a women than kissing was extremely embarrassing. You were scared that Michonne would just assume that you weren't actually interested within women at all, due to the fact that you had never been with one within such an intimate and sexual manner.
"(Y/N)." The other women suddenly interrupted you, her voice soft and her tone tender whilst she swiftly concluded your previous rambling "Spit it out."
You stared at her, your vision trembling and your heart pounding so loud, you were almost deafened by it. Yet, you obeyed the other women, aware of the fact that Michonne was the safest person you could possibly admit such a fact to. You trusted her more than anything.
"Ive never been with a women before." You whispered, getting straight to the point as she had previously requested.
Michonne was silent for a moment, her typical quietness causing an overwhelming sensation of dread to completely captivate your mind. The other women was known for suddenly becoming quiet, and her silence was often intimating. Additionally, her muteness only caused you to further believe that she was completely disgusted by you within that moment, that the other women was secretly judging you within the confines of her mind.
"Okay." She suddenly responded, swiftly destroying all of your previously negative and frightening beliefs "Okay, thats okay. Look, we'll wait until we're back at the prison, somewhere safe and comfortable. Then, I'll get you all relaxed and I'll teach you everything you need to know."
You enjoyed the way Michonne spoke so blatantly with you, often describing exactly what she was thinking, instead of beating around the bush. Furthermore, her statement was extremely reassuring, yet also rather arousing. The fact that she did not judge you completely calmed you, and the notion that the two of you would soon take part within all of the rather sexual and explicit activities you had been day dreaming about for such a long while had you yearning to just return to the prison right then.
The rest of the evening was extremely tormenting, the throbbing within your core was unfaltering whilst the other women cuddled and held you through the night. Her close proximity and suddenly rather romantic and much more intimate interactions with you only further aroused you. Once Michonne had kissed you goodnight, you were unable to successfully fall asleep, much too excited for the day that would soon follow.
dude i am begging on my hands and fuckin knees for a trevor philips x male reader smutshot🙏🙏🙏please dude it is SO HARD to find mlm content of him and your writing is so good dude anyways ignore me if ur not up to writing it i understand sorry for being dramatic i just love that disgusting pervert and im a man with needs
Thank youuuu, it’s always nice to hear that people enjoy my writing :) anyway, yeah I’d love to! Just send me in your request (just so I can know a bit more of what the focus is) and I’ll get to it as soon as possible. Although, I do have to clarify that since I am a women there might be a few mistakes sometimes, but I’ll do my best to write x male
(This is just me asking not requesting) but I was wondering if you’d be fine taking fic reqs with Wes??
Hiiii! I’m apart of a few different fandoms so I’m not exactly sure who you’re talking about. I’m assuming Wes Borland but correct me if I’m wrong. Anyway, if that’s the case, I’d be happy to <3 feel free to send in your request whenever
Era: I did not have a specific time period within mind
Summary: You and Trevor decide to randomly get married.
Warnings: Swearing, marriage, fluff, kissing, innuendos, and mentions of violence
Word count: 1,854
"You two got married?!" Michael inquired, his tone filled with a mixture of both astonishment and frustration.
As the group of you stood within Michael's desolate home, Trevor was currently displaying your left hand to the men before you, his thick fingers positioned tightly around your thin wrist. By holding your arm within place, the older male was successfully exhibiting the rather expensive wedding ring situated upon your finger, one that he had purchased for you just an hour prior. Trevor had never spent such a large sum of money upon one small item, but he did not regret the investment within the slightest.
Michael was supporting an expression of pure shock, his jaw hanging loose and his eyes opened wide. Yet, there was an obvious hint of extreme anger laced within his features, due to his furrowed eyebrows and his flared nostrils.
Furthermore, Franklin appeared rather disappointed, hanging his face low within disbelief as he shook his head as a result of pure perplexity.
"Yeah, ain't it awesome?" Trevor inquired; his question wasn't the result of genuine curiosity. Instead, it was more a display of his sincere excitement.
You gazed towards your husband with a soft expression of pure admiration. Something about the older male always caused a slight tingling sensation to appear within the depths of your stomach as the heat in your chest began to increase.
Although many others perceived Trevor as just some crazy lunatic, he was much different towards you. Sure, the older male enjoyed a large amount of rather immoral fun, but he regarded you much differently compared to any other individual within his entire life.
The older male would never scream at you, threaten you, or even contemplate physically harming you. In all honesty, Trevor appeared to transform from an insane maniac before morphing into a sweet and tender man when he was within your company. You were the only person who was capable of calming the older male, you were aware of each of his relaxations, and you had learned every technique in order to successfully comfort him. Even the slightest look of disapproval you displayed within Trevors direction had him completely composed. If he was on the verge of bashing someones skull in, one subtle cough from your lips would have the older male completely reserved, no longer fueled by anger.
Something about you pleased the older male, demolished all of his overwhelming emotions of both anger and sorrow and replaced such negative sensations with an agreeable relaxation and tranquility. You were like some sort of drug that Trevor just couldn't seem to get clean of.
"Didn't you guys like just go on your first date? Like literally a few hours ago?" Franklin inquired, staring at you with an expression of pure confusion, as if he could not seem to comprehend the situation. Like the whole notion was completely alien and unknown to him.
Trevor released his dominant grasp from upon your wrist, allowing your arm to drop as he continued to converse amongst the two men before you. You utilized this opportunity to both observe and admire the ring located upon your finger.
It was absolutely beautiful, and the sight of such a gorgeous piece of jewelry had brought a warm smile to your lips. Trevor had brought you to the store and allowed you to select any ring you had desired, no matter the price.
"Eh, not really a date. We just kind went to the board walk for a bit, before getting bored and deciding to drive around and terrorize some pedestrians." Trevor shrugged, seeming completely unaware of his companions obvious disapproval of the entire situation "God, I fucking love this woman, she's fucking crazy."
That morning, the older male had appeared upon your front step. It was around eleven, much earlier than you had expected an individual such as Trevor to awake at. He appeared absolutely disheveled and exhausted whilst he stood before you, as if he had just run all the way to your home.
You and Trevor had worked together, becoming introduced when Franklin had invited you to work along side him and a few of his partners, including both Michael and Trevor. You had been friends with F for a while, completing odd jobs and participating within criminal activities together. So when your companion explained that his group was in desperate need of a rather experienced get away driver, you were happy to assist.
After that, you were instantly welcomed into the group, favored for your beneficial driving abilities, along with your rather impressive skills in regards to guns.
Sense the very beginning, you and Trevor had immediately appeared to click. The two of you favored working together; anytime your group needed to select a pair of individuals to complete a task, you and the older male were the first to volunteer. Additionally, the pair of you had always possessed some sort of chemistry, easily flirting with one another and effortlessly executing some rather dirty and suggestive jokes towards each other. You were not fazed by Trevors rather manic actions, and the older male was rather impressed by your exceptional abilities, especially sense you had appeared as rather unassuming at the beginning.
You were not granted with enough time to greet the male before he was stumbling over his words, suggesting that the two of you spend the day together, specifying that it would be a date.
And just as he had explained, the two of you agreed upon the date. The pair of you hopped into Trevors truck, a rather sexy vehicle you had always adored, before speeding carelessly towards the boardwalk. You participated within some carnival rides and played some lousy games, but you quickly grew bored. Thats when you had suggested that the two of you should go on a ride and terrorize some civilians, simply for the enjoyment. And thats exactly what you had done.
The two of you sped through the streets of Los Santos, barely swerving around pedestrians whilst you yelled rather cruel and obscene statements towards unsuspecting individuals. When the older male had accidentally slammed right into a person crossing the street, swerving much too late to avoid them, he was pleasantly surprised by your very callous response. His jaw practically hit the ground when you simply laughed and told him to drive before the police arrived.
The two of you repeated this pattern, terrorizing civilians and laughing manically the entire time, until Trevor suddenly slammed upon the brakes. You observed as the older male turned towards you, supporting a rather serious and stern expression before requesting that you marry him.
"Do you wanna marry me, (Y/N)?" He inquired, his tone suddenly soft as he appeared rather vulnerable and nervous before you "I mean, I wanna marry you. Ive never met a women like you before in my life. Fuck it, we could go to the court office right now and you can become Mrs. Philips within the next half hour. What do you say, sweetheart?"
And without a moment of hesitation, you had agreed. Maybe you were just as crazy as the older male, possibly even more insane as you allowed him to drive you straight to the court office and officially marry you. Maybe you were even more manic as you allowed his actions to continue, sensing no form of regret when Trevor sped right to the jeweler immediately after your marriage and allowed you to select any ring that caught your captivation. He had even gained the ring through a respectful method, rather than just stealing it.
"(Y/N)! What the Hell were you thinking? You know you actually have to spend the rest of your life with this lunatic now, right?" Michael further inquired, his tone filled with complete shock and frustration, as if he believed you had just made the stupidest decision of your entire life.
Becoming slightly annoyed towards the other man, you shot a rather stern expression within his direction before returning to your typically enthusiastic self. You tenderly grasped at Trevors arm as you smiled rather brightly.
"I know, and Im very excited." You exclaimed simply, flashing a warm grin within Trevors direction, attempting to comfort the male and make him disregard his companions disapproval.
Trevor responded to your kind gesture with a soft kiss upon your forehead, instantly becoming both tender and gentle with you before his entire careful demeanor quickly vanished once he had turned back towards Michael. His expression had instantly transformed from sweet and caring towards you, before morphing into both furious and angry regarding his companion.
"Leave her alone, Mikey. I know you think just cause she's a woman that she cant make her own decisions, and thats very disrespectful." Your husband declared rather confidently "I should fuckin hit you for talkin to my wife like that."
Aware of just how serious your husband could be, knowing that he would one hundred precent execute such an act even though it appeared completely outrageous, you attempted to calm your lover. You gently grasped at his exposed forearm, squeezing lightly to capture Trevors attention. Your husband swiftly perceived your slight opposition, aware of the fact that you disapproved of such a notion, simply as a result of such a slight and minuscule interaction.
Therefore, as Trevor perceived your silent command, he slowly exhaled a rather harsh breath before backing a step away from Michael.
"Thats- God, thats not what I mean, T. Its just- (Y/N), are you sure he didn't put you up to this?" Michael inquired, his tone filled with genuine curiosity as he began to subtly doubt your safety.
However, Trevor appeared a bit offended by such a notion, grasping rather firmly upon your waist before pulling you against his figure. The older male wrapped his arms around your torso and hugged you against his chest, as if he was attempting to display the fact that he was actively protecting you against his companions harsh suggestion.
"Its not like I held her captive, Jesus. She chose to do this. Is it really that crazy to believe that a fine lady would want to marry me?" Trevor inquired, his tone filled with both frustration and vexation.
You wrapped your arms tightly around your husbands torso as you reciprocated his hug. As you nuzzled your face against his chest, you felt Trevor hum from above you, displaying his obvious approval and appreciation of your actions as he smiled warmly down towards you.
"A little bit, yeah." Franklin sighed.
The older male, now much too captivated by his wife currently situated within his arms, did not seem to perceive Franklin's response as offensive. As if your husband had somehow become intoxicated by the effects of your affection, he did not react with his typical anger or frustration.
"Whatever, you guys are just jealous I got to her first." You giggled against Trevors chest as a reaction to his obvious praise and affection towards you, displaying the fact that he believed you were a real treasure that he was lucky to marry "Come on, sugar, let's go consummate this marriage."
