Presenting handyman!Loomis for the Manspreading Olympics hosted by @toxicanonymity @toxicrecs
TAKE ACTION AGAINST ICE
18+: Reader fantasizing about somnophilia, riding, big cock Loomis – AFAB reader
You left him alone working on your hot water pipe in the laundry room, only to find him passed out in your living room. It's not the first time he falls asleep on the job. At that point he was used to be in your house with all the things you had to fix and couldn't manage to fix, not to mention he's the only handyman in your small town.
You'd usually wake him up and have a pointless argument about how you'll never call him again, but you end up doing it anyways. He did fix things up quite well when he actually did his job, plus, having eye candy around for a few hours was quite the treat, especially when you were lonely and extremely horny.
When you saw him spread out on your couch like that, you couldn't help but notice the prominent bulge, and goddamn, you got the urge to free his (evidently) huge cock and sit on it while he slept. Feel every inch of him slide inside of your needy cunt and ride him nice and slow as he woke up, groaning. His breathing picking up slowly until he realizes what's going on. His big hands sliding up your waist to keep you still. To thrust up into your sopping pussy and use you to get off...
All those moments you found him like that drove you closer to crawling on him, but when you decided to actually do it, Billy woke up...
You get a job as a barmaid in the beer hall, with the Wildman watching your back. When Krampus returns from his quest, he takes an interest in you, like the Wildman knew he would.
WARNINGS: 18+ DARK FIC. CAPTIVITY ADJACENT. PREDATOR/PREY, SPANKING. PET NAMES. PRAISE. CHARACTERS LOOSELY INSPIRED BY FOLKLORE AND RAIDER.
The Wildman who’d taken you under his wing lived just inside the stone wall and iron gate. After a long journey home with him, this was where you got to rest. Krampus wouldn’t be back for a while, and there was time to get you settled into the community.
Carter’s home was a simple one. He built a fire in the hearth, sat you down on the sofa, gave you a blanket, and offered you a stiff drink, but you declined. He took a swig straight from the bottle before pouring himself a glass of whiskey like a civilized man, then making you some cocoa.
Bullet, the cat who’d helped the Wildman defeat your captors, went around rubbing on all the furniture, then hopped up on the couch and curled up next to you, purring.
When the hot cocoa was ready, Carter brought you a cup, then settled in on an armchair facing you, sipping whiskey.
After looking at each other for a while, you broke the silence. “Do you think he’ll get his gold back?”
With his lips loosened by liquor, Carter told you more about the robbery.
At one point, he ranted, “and they did it on Krampuschnat…. While everybody was playin’ Krapuschlappe.”
You asked what Krampuschlappe was, and he described a game where the goal was to slap Krampus harder than Krampus could slap you. No one ever beat Krampus, but according to Carter, it was a privilege to be slapped. Apparently, men were competitive about who got to challenge him. “That's the real contest,” Carter said.
“Why?” you asked.
Carter shrugged. “Feels kinda good gettin’ smacked around sometimes, don't it?”
He tilted his head with a look that made you feel naked, even in his big coat on and a blanket over your legs.
His nose twitched like he could see it on your face. “Well, for me, anyway.”
“Alright, maybe a little,” you admitted.
“Attagirl,” Carter smiled.
“Ever get smacked around outside of Krampuschlappe?” you asked.
“Every once in a while,” he answered with wistful eyes, turning the glass of whiskey in his hand, still wearing fingerless gloves. “sometimes I’m askin’ for it.”
“What, like you've been bad?” You asked.
“Yeah…or I'm literally askin’ for it.” He raised his eyebrows, then downed the rest of his drink.
— - -
The next day, Carter took you to the beer hall and introduced you to the barmaids. They swooned when he came around, and he politely indulged their flirtations. When he excused himself to the restroom, one with red hair followed him, and he rolled his eyes as he felt her presence trailing him. Then, he turned around to face her. He lowered his voice and whispered in the same tone he used with Bullet. “What'd I tell you? We're done.”
Dejected, she watched him disappear into the washroom. When she looked at you, you pretended you were admiring a large portrait of Krampus on the wall.
“What do you think?” she asked, and you really studied it for the first time. You’d known approximately what he looked like, but was that *three* sets of horns? Pierced nipples?
“Uh,” you couldn’t peel your eyes away from it. His eyes glowed with a dark smile. He wore chains and leather pants, and the portrait was even larger than Carter.
“Is he that big?” you asked, with your eyes accidentally settling on the bulge in his pants.
“Bigger,” she laughed and posed next to the portrait. She trailed her hand down the painted chest and happy trail, sticking her tongue out.
-
There was room for you in their bunkhouse, and they were glad to take you in. Most of the girls had become unofficial ladies of the night, as it were. . . Groupies of Krampus and the wildmen. That left few on staff who actually maintained the tavern in terms of service and clean-up. It was the perfect job for you.
-
In your first shifts, Carter kept an eye on you, and you seemed to get along real well with everyone.
By day the beer hall felt like a dungeon, but at night, it came to life. By the time your shift started, peanut and chestnut shells already littered the tables and the floor. Rowdy groups roared with laughter and tales of misadventure. You’d have a mess to clean up when they retired to bed.
The wee hours of the morning were your favorite to work. Those were the most festive hours. Men and beasts were loose with their gold, and sometimes, their affections. Not just for the girls, but for each other. On some nights, the room felt delightfully enchanted.
—-
You watched the girls, especially curious about the ones who let the men and wildmen play with them. You knew this much: A nurse tended to those girls, dressed their wounds, and iced their bruises. Some cried, some giggled, some laughed through tears.
There was a streak of curiosity in you… Curiosity at best. Something in your gut yearned to know how it felt, but your survival instincts were stronger. So you simply did the work as described: You served the men, and cleaned up after them.
“I have a job to do,” you explained whenever a drunkard tried to get you in his lap. The first time you said this, you looked to Carter for backup, and he nodded, “that’s right.”
Whenever a man reacted poorly, to smooth things over, you’d offer, “let me bring you another beer.”
They would have been fools to mistake your soft energy for weakness, and they didn’t, for the most part.
-
The first night Krampus returned, he had a girl straddling each thigh, facing him. They grinded on him and played with each other as wildmen and raiders gathered around to welcome the big boss home.
Krampus regaled the men with the tale of his quest to reclaim the gold.
“Ohh, they ain’t gettin’ away with this,” a scraggly man chimed in. “Nothin’ gets by the man in hooves.” He lifted his pint, gesturing toward Krampus, and the men murmured in agreement.
“Oh, plenty gets by me,” Krampus admitted.
“But nothin’ gets by Alan Bradley. Get over here, Bradley!” Krampus bellowed, easily peering over the wildmen between him and the next table. “Come on,” He beckoned a normal man in glasses to join from a nearby table. The accountant was attending the festivities at the behest of Krampus, but it wasn't exactly his natural habitat: When he'd arrived, Carter had given him a tip: Lose the tie.
Bradley shuffled toward the rowdier group and paused. Krampus dismissed the girls from his lap. The men opened their circle to let the girls out, and Bradley stepped out of their way with a polite, “Ladies.”
One of the wildmen grabbed Bradley's shoulder to pull him in, echoing Krampus as he pushed him toward the boss, “Get in here, buddy.”
“Mr. Krampus, Sir,” Bradley nodded with a bright smile. He had a full, healthy head of graying hair. No horns.
Krampus patted his massive, leather-clad thigh, and Bradley hesitantly sat on it like a bench, facing the men.
“Tell’em how ya caught it,” Krampus encouraged him with pride.
Bradley's face lit up as he spoke about his security audit program. Carter tried to stifle a yawn. The other members of the small audience weren’t as discreet in their excruciating boredom. Krampus scanned their faces, then interrupted the story, “To Bradley!” raising his half-gallon stein.
“To Bradley!” The raiders and Wildmen raised their ales and cheered.
“Good man,” Krampus patted Bradley on the back and dismissed him back to the quieter table.
You worked in the kitchen that night and didn’t meet Krampus, which was just as well. His presence was even more enormous than his stature, and it made you shy.
-
It was a different shift when Krampus first laid eyes on you, and he couldn’t look away. He watched you work, entranced by the way you held your own and quietly commanded the respect of patrons.
Krampus sat with his thighs spread, eyes following your every move. Watching him watch you, Carter observed, “Looks like the big guy sees someone he likes.”
Krampus grunted and finished off his ale.
Your cheeks heated, and Carter ordered another round.
When you returned to the table, it felt like you were on stage, the way everyone watched you (and watched Krampus watch you). Your hands shook as you placed the heavy steins on the table. He crossed his arms and watched you. Without looking right at him, you turned to leave.
Krampus stopped you with a hand firm around your entire arm. “Did I say you could go?” His voice was deep and rough.
You stopped in your tracks and swallowed a tickle in your chest as you turned to face him. “I’m sorry, sir,” you offered with a nod and half a curtsie. “At your service.”
“It’s okay,” his voice and his grip on your arm both softened. “What are ya doin’ here, sweet pea?” he asked, and the nickname made your heart skip a beat.
“Just doing the job, sir.”
“What job?”
“Pouring beers, cleaning up…”
“Keeping everyone happy,” Krampus nodded, and a few men cheersed, with ale sloshing out of their pints as they clinked them.
“Good girl,” Krampus said, then he put his arm around Carter and stroked the Wildman’s hair. “Did this one bring you here?” Krampus asked.
“Yes sir,” you answered. “I hope it’s okay…”
“Tell me what happened,” Krampus implored you. He let you stand in front of him while you told the story. His eyes wandered down your body but always returned to your face.
Spellbound by your voice and the way your mouth moved, he idly fingered Carter’s locks as he listened.
When you finished, Krampus nodded, then scratched Carter between the horns and looked at him with gratitude, “Good man.”
Carter nudged his head into the larger beast’s touch, just like Bullet might.
-
— -
Krampus felt something low in his gut. Every time he saw you, a need in the pit of his core was roused by your presence, as though you were tugging on it from the outside. He couldn’t stop watching you, and you could feel it. The weight of his watchful eyes made everything you carried heavier.
You dropped two empty steins, and the men around you laughed.
Krampus stood up, and his nostrils flared. Carter’s eyebrows lifted at the shape he saw in the boss man’s leather pants.
The men who’d laughed at you composed themselves and picked up the steins themselves.
Standing tall, Krampus cracked his neck with no hands. “Put those down. Come here,” he beckoned you. A hush fell over the dim room as you made your way back to Krampus.
He loomed over you, so tall it would have been easier to look him in the pierced nipples than the eyes. He must have been two and a half meters, from the base of his hooves to the highest curve of his horns.
He asked, “What’s wrong?” and you realized you were cowering.
He cocked an eyebrow, with a flicker in his gaze that made you feel a little more at ease.
“N-nothing,” you stammered with a nervous but genuine smile.
Krampus raised both eyebrows, then adjusted his pants, pulling them up and letting the chains settle again. “Think this is a game?”
You looked down and backed away, just a smidgen, looking to gain enough space to see him better. Krampus stepped toward you.
You backed up again, bumping into another wildman, one you hadn't met who grabbed you and held you. “Here ya go, boss,” the wildman announced, and your skin bristled at his grimy touch.
“HANDS OFF HER, Harold” Krampus roared. Had fire shot out of his mouth, the flames would have fit the glow in his eyes.
The man obeyed, lifting his trembling hands, palms forward.
Krampus grabbed the wildman by the throat and threw him across the room, into the wall. Then, Krampus looked around the silenced room. “Hands off this one,” he announced, “Leave her be.”
The men murmured, “yes sir,” and other acknowledgements as Krampus looked at you like you were the only one there.
As his eyes feasted on you, they only became hungrier. The beast in him awakened.
You tugged your dress down, embarrassed by the attention, though grateful for the protection. You couldn’t wait to get out of the spotlight and catch a breath of fresh air. You didn’t know it, but Krampus had a similar thought.
As he looked at you, a sound rumbled from his throat, somewhere between the growl of a beast, and the purr of a massive feline.
And then, Krampus spoke one word: “Run.”
A cheer erupted from the crowd.
When you didn’t move, the crowd got quiet again, and Krampus raised his eyebrows as though to ask what you were doing.
Carter coughed, catching your attention, then nodded, urging you to comply.
So you did.
—--
—-
-
-
—-
—--
The revelers cleared a path, and Krampus stood with his massive arms crossed, making a show of his patience as he gave you a head start.
When you’d almost made it to the back of the bar where all the kegs were kept, he launched himself after you, crossing the floor in just a few steps.
His pursuit aroused your prey instincts. Even if you weren’t in danger of death, you knew the kind of damage he could do to your body, even if he wasn’t trying. Even if he seemed like a gentle giant, so far.
All this time, the Wildman had felt like a giant every time he was near, and Krampus was even larger.
Krampus chased you around the room, and the crowd cheered him on, falling over each other, spilling steins and pints, laughing and shouting. “Get’her!”
And then, you saw a clear path to the door.
Unsure if you were meant to flee, you only had a split-second to decide.
You found your feet moving under you, taking delicate, nimble steps, until you were out in the cold night, with your shoes falling off. You slipped them off and ran, taking silent steps with the balls of your bare feet on cold, dirt-caked cobblestone.
Heavy breaths and chains followed close behind.
Back in the beer hall, the crowd clamored for a look, but Carter kept them all inside as Krampus pursued his prey under the stars.
-
Soon, Krampus had you in his grasp with a hand firm on your arm.
“Turn around,” he commanded quietly.
When you were facing him, he let go of your arm.
“Don’t move,” he instructed, and braced his hands on his thick, leather-clad thighs as he crouched down to your level.
He caught his breath, muscles heaving, eyes wild and bright, then he grabbed your jaw.
His eyes held you like you might break, but his hands were a different story.
Those hands could break you in half with a fraction of his strength.
The grip he had you in was gentle, for him. You could feel him holding back.
“Know what happens now?” he asked, watching your lips tremble.
“What?” you replied.
“Well, you know what my job is, don’t you?” Krampus challenged you.
He let go of your jaw, then stood up straight, looming over you once more.
“I think so,” you whispered.
He held a hand to his ear and asked, “What then?” crouching over again, closer to your level.
“You’re supposed to punish people,” you said.
“Punish the naughty ones,” he corrected you. “You been naughty, sweet pea?”
“N….no,” you answered, prompting a soft laugh that shook his whole chest.
“You think runnin’ from Daddy’s not bad?” he asked with soft mischief in his tone.
His eyes sparkled as he waited patiently for your answer, with genuine interest in what you had to say.
Krampus must have played this game countless times before, but you were different. Unpredictable. You’d taken him *outside*, and kept running. “Hmm?” he prompted you and lifted your chin.
You looked straight up at the hulking beast.
He thumbed your bottom lip and tilted his head.
“Sorry,” you said. “I didn’t know what to do.
His tail swished around, then caressed your cheek. He laughed to himself, then murmured, “Even the best girls can be naughty”, then bent down and picked you up. “What are you doing?”
“It’s for your own good, sweet pea,” he murmured.
He lumbered back to the beer hall, humming a tune as he held you over his shoulder with a hand on your lower back. You were so high in the air. His steps slowed as he reached the beer hall, then he paused in the entrance.
The men had dispersed back to their usual antics, gathered around tables, drinking and eating.
As the men took notice of your feet dangling in the air, the room erupted in another cheer.
-
“Spank-ING, Spank-ING, Spank-ING,” they chanted as Krampus looked around with pride, ever the showman.
“Alright, settle down,” Krampus boomed, and the crowd complied, except for a drunkard who blurted out, “Use the switch!”
Krampus sat down and put you so you were standing between his knees.
You tugged at your dress, drawing a subtle smile to his lips.
“What do you think?” Krampus asked. “Do you deserve a spanking?” His eyebrows flashed upward.
“I dunno,” you shrugged.
Amused, Krampus asked, “You don’t know?” The crowd’s response was scattered laughter.
You searched for Carter and found him sitting back with his arms crossed, knees spread, enjoying the show. The trusted Wildman gave you a reassuring wink.
With a surge of confidence, you answered,
“I guess Daddy knows best.”
Carter whistled, and the crowd broke into hoots and hollers.
Krampus looked around the crowd, nodding with an impressed frown. Then, he laid a massive hand on your head. “Smart girl,” he praised you.
—-------
Your heart pounded as you were bent over Krampus’s knee, but you grounded yourself by looking at Carter and his big, bare biceps, pumped up with visible veins. The Wildman’s face darkened with a smile as he gazed upon you laid out over the boss man's lap.
“It's okay,” Carter mouthed.
Your face got all hot as you focused on the stone floor in front of you and tuned out the surrounding faces.
Krampus pulled back his hand, and you braced yourself as the crowd counted down, “Threeee, twoooooo,”
The first pop on your rear set your skin on fire and echoed off the walls. His broad palm had hit both cheeks at once.
Blurry in your peripheral vision, Carter leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. “Doin’ good,” he encouraged you.
Scattered voices counted down again, “Three, two…”
The next smack was numbed by the heat of the first and didn't reach your ears over the noise of the crowd, but your eyes stung and your lip quivered.
Krampus adjusted your body, pulling you in close, sliding your dress against his leather pants, closer to his body where you could feel the heat of his crotch.
“Three, two….” After a longer pause, you flinched, and he chuckled. Then, his hand came down again.
Watching your ass jiggle, he hummed, “Mmm.” He grabbed your bare ass, took a deep breath, and let out a satisfied sigh, then put the skirt of your dress back down before resting a massive palm across your buttocks.
He let you down off his knees and you stood between them again as he admired you.
Your butt tingled with heat, and so did your face.
The men crowd went about their night, and for a moment, it felt like it was just you and Krampus. You and the King of… whatever this place was. Having his attention and approval felt so special that you didn’t even look for Carter.
Some of the other barmaids looked on with envy as krampus fixed your hair. Then he kissed you on the head, and murmured just above your ear, “You take it good, sweet pea.”
He adjusted himself, fixing the obscene leather pants that were thin enough to display every vein in his hard cock. With a palm on your back, he said, “Good girl. Back to work.”
At the end of the night, Carter was the last customer there, and you were one of the last barmaids. You were taking your time in hopes that some of the girls would go to bed before you got back and you wouldn't face too much teasing or questioning.
Carter watched you sweep. You finished the rest of the room first, getting closer and closer to his table.
Once you were there, he didn't back out of your way, so you swept between his massive feet and felt his glassy eyes pouring over your barmaid dress.
"You good?" he asked with the twang of whiskey in his voice.
"Yeah," you replied and felt heat rise to your cheeks.
"He likes you," Carter said.
“I guess that’s good,” you replied, looking at the broom handle as you swept.
“Everything workin’ out okay in the bunkhouse?” he asked. “Sleepin’ alright?”
“Yeah,” you said. “Thanks again.”
He nodded, then tilted his head, watching you.
As you stepped back, your dress fanned out, and Carter was holding the hem of it. When you noticed this, he smiled, drunkenly pleased with himself.
He lowered his voice and tilted his head forward, casting a shadow over his eyes as he said, "You know where to find me."
Carter dropped the hem of your skirt and gave a friendly nod, then let you turn around to go.
Every part of you under your skirt was hot. It was hard to know what was from the spanking and what was from the Wildman's penetrating gaze.
“G'night, peanut,” he murmured as you walked away.
-
-
-
Thank you so much for reading and for your comments! If interest continues, I do have more to share. Happy Holidays to all ❤️
When your village was destroyed, you wound up captive to a group of wicked men. They were on a journey, and they kept you caged in a wagon with other loot that wasn't theirs. They tied you by your ankles and wrists, and your skin grew raw from trying to loosen the knots.
The men bickered about who would keep you warm for the night, and then one of them had the bright idea to let you choose. This must have been the most fun they'd had in weeks. When you refused to pick any one of them, they decided you could freeze instead. Or at least, that was the official decision, but you didn't expect to make it through the night without further confrontation. "Sweet dreams, buttercup," the loudest one had said with a lewd grab of his crotch.
Your hope was that they'd get drunk to sleep through the night.
They were cruel men. After you rejected them (what did they expect?), they banded together to ease their bruised egos by laughing about your helpless state. It amused them to see you cold and shivering. They left you in your cage while they made a fire. For a while, you could hear them musing about what they might do to you. They could never agree.
Meanwhile, in their messy wagon full of loot, you managed to scooch under a fur to stay warm as their drunkenness became more boisterous around the campfire. Expecting at least one of them to come violate you in the night, you tried to stay awake, on guard. But soon, their shouting and laughter faded into background noise. The fatigue caught up with you, and you slipped away.
-
You jolted awake to a sound that was familiar but strange: loud purring. Louder than you'd ever heard before. And then, footsteps approached the wagon.
“C’mere,” a man's whisper snapped, losing patience. It didn't sound like any of the men who were holding you captive.
Next, the curious face of a cat appeared at the edge of the wagon. Larger than a housecat, but smaller than a mountain lion, the feline was on its hind legs, sniffing the air. Its golden eyes widened at the sight of you.
The shadow of a man approached behind the dark cat, and you shrank back into the mess of the wagon, hoping to camouflage yourself among the other spoils.
“That ain't gold, buddy,” the man whispered to the cat. "That ain't ours, either."
The cat let out a quiet meow and didn't budge. He was too intrigued by the human hiding in the wagon.
“Let's get outta here,” the man whispered. “Now.”
The cat meowed again.
“Shhhh,” the man hushed the cat. When the cat still didn't budge, the man crept closer. The faint light of his lantern reflected in your eyes. You'd been caught.
The guy had to duck to really see you--He might have been the tallest man you'd ever laid eyes on. He had a black coat with a tall, standing collar. When your eyes met, the man raised a finger to his mouth. Then, he turned up the flame in the lantern and held it out in front of himself as he crouched to get a better look.
He had a handsome face with blue eyes, a masculine nose, and a scruffy beard that suited his jawline. As your eyes scanned upward, your breath hitched: From his mop of dirty blonde hair grew two horns.
It was a Wildman.
You'd never met one, only seen them from afar and in pictures.
"You hurt?" He whispered, and you shook your head no. He didn't sound how you imagined they would. He spoke just like a man.
With your heart pounding, you glanced toward the other end of the wagon, behind which the fire was burning out and the wicked men were snoring deep under the covers of whiskey.
So you thought.
“Who’s there,” one of your captors slurred, then louder, "THAT YOU, BUTTERCUP?....Don't think yer gittin' away....."
The Wildman's face hardened--more offended than concerned. He began to back away from you.
“Wait,” you lunged at him, grabbed his wrist, and whispered, “Take me with you.”
His dark blue eyes read your face with empathy, then he scanned the surroundings as though making a calculation.
“Can you get me out of there?” You asked.
The cat clawed at the rope that tethered you to the wagon. The animal seemed to understand you at least as well as the man did.
As the cat worked on your restraints, the metallic click of a gun sliced through the cold night.
The Wildman whispered, “hang tight.”
He left his lantern with you, and as he turned around, he took a rifle off his back.
You couldn't see much in the dark, but what followed was a cacophony of screeches, growls, gunfire, blade on blade, thwacking, grunting, drunk men stumbling, staggering, injured men wailing, thumping dead, gunshot, gunshot, grunt, slice, thwack, wet crack, meow, screech, groan.
You closed your eyes until it was over.
The tall, horned man returned to your caged wagon out of breath with a split lip. Under his coat, he was holding a bloodied area of his filthy shirt. The cat hopped up into the wagon with you and worked at the ropes again while the Wildman worked at the end of the wagon. Losing patience, he stabbed through the canvas of the wagon and ripped it open. You watched his bloodied knuckles as he broke the slats on the side of the wagon frame. He was strong enough to snap them with relative ease. Meanwhile, the cat was shredding the rope splinters until you were able to snap it apart. Soon, both your ankles and wrists were free, and the cat was playing with the rope, trying to gut it like a fish with his back feet.
“Who are you?” you asked the man.
The cat hopped up to take his place in front of the Wildman, visually confirming himself as the sidekick.
The Wildman spoke. “Name's Carter. C’mere.” He extended a massive hand to you.
When you hesitated to take it, he said, “it's okay.”
The cat chirped and nudged your hand with his head, as though to reinforce what Carter said.
You hesitantly dropped a corner of the fur that was wrapped around you.
When you extended your hand, Carter saw that you were nearly naked. A thin, strappy nightie was all you had.
“Oh, god damnit," he cursed. "Those fuckers take your clothes? Sons of bitches,” he shook his head, then said to the cat, “You were right, Bullet. We shoulda made’em suffer.”
The Wildman started rummaging through his pack. “Somewhere in here, I got… shit." He stopped and took off his coat to give it to you. “I reckon this’ll do for a while. Till we get back, at least.”
“Back where?” you asked.
Carter took a moment to answer carefully. “Got a place, East of here….a community,” he nodded to himself. “Whole lotta people there... Men, beasts, women…”
As the three of you left, you were only a few meters away from the wagon when Carter stopped and said, "Hold up a second." He looked around, then got in your personal space, and you didn't step away. He reached into the pocket of his coat you were wearing.
As he fished something out, he murmured, "Stay here for me."
With one hand still holding his wounded side, he approached the wagon again. He muttered, "Motherfuckers," before throwing a lit match and walking away.
He didn't look back.
-
It was almost daylight. When the sun was high enough, you stopped for a break. Carter took his bloody henley off over his back and got out a sewing kit and liquor.
You asked if he needed help, and he said, "Nah, I think I've got it." He winced with the sting, and his abs flexed as he stitched himself.
"Actually--gimme your hand for a sec," he decided as he struggled to tie off the last stitch. He gently folded your fingers to your palm except for one, and he placed that finger on top of the closed wound. As he did it, you admired his face from up close. If he noticed you staring, he didn't show it. "Not too bad," he muttered to himself as he tied off the thread. He gave you your hand back and joked, "Good as new." His smile stirred butterflies in your chest.
Then, he looked at you. Really looked at you. And he might have looked a little too long.
“Married?” he asked.
“No,” you laughed.
“Boyfriend?” he asked.
“Dead,” you answered. “Why?”
“Just gotta know who's comin’ after you is all,” he said, then added under his breath, “before I take ya too far.”
-
On the journey East, you learned more: Carter and Bullet had been on the hunt for gold that was stolen from a powerful man they worked for. There was an air of mystery about the whole thing, but you trusted him anyway.
It was more than a day's trek. When you had to camp, Carter kept you close. The way he went about it, it was a matter of practicality. He didn't talk about it or ask if you'd be comfortable, didn't make a whole thing about it. He didn't consider other options. The night was cold, and he was warm, and that was that.
You watched him make a soft surface out of a folded quilt. He lay down then spread a blanket over himself, lifted it for you, and said, "Alright, c'mere."
When you hesitated, he added, "unless ya'd rather freeze," with a subtle smile.
He couldn't have known what a bad joke that was.
But there was no threat, or even any subtext to the sleeping arrangement. There was no amusement at the idea of you freezing.
He was shortening the distance between you with the joke, and affirming your place in his arms as the only logical option.
If you really didn't wanna, he would've talked some sense into you, but he didn't have to. You joined him under the blanket, still wearing his coat.
As you settled in with your back to his front, you could have sworn you heard him grunt in satisfaction. It might have been hopeful listening. He remained a gentleman--as gentle as a Wildman could be, that is. One who killed five men with the help of his cat and set a wagon on fire.
Snug under his heavy arm, you were safe and warm enough.
In front of you, Bullet was licking your hand with his sandpaper tongue.
"Cut it out," Carter told him, putting his hand between the cat's face and your hand.
With Bullet purring peacefully in front of you, your breathing synchronized with Carter's, and you fell asleep.
In the middle of the night, you woke up with your lungs ice cold. The violent shaking of your body roused Carter, and he mumbled, "shit." His voice was rough and his speech was slurred. "Turn over," he backed up and tugged you toward him. "Get in here, closer, heart toward me," he mumbled and gently unbuttoned the coat so your skin was as close to his as possible. When the coat was still in the way, he mumbled, "I'll give it back," as he took it off you. He put your arm over his side, then draped the coat over you, and adjusted the blanket.
He held you tighter than before, with his muscular arm keeping you against him. With your head so close to his neck, his masculine pheromones filled your nostrils. He had the sweat of a man and the scent of the woods. When you closed your eyes, you imagined him as a medieval lumberjack in a cedar forest.
Your nose nudged his throat, and he grunted, "Mm," then whispered, "s'okay, darlin'." He caged his leg over you, and your lower belly fluttered Having him wrapped around you was almost enough to forget about your village burned to the ground.
-
In the morning, he was making coffee when you woke up.
You asked if he had a family. You were really just as curious about whether he had a girlfriend, but you left it at that: family.
“Sure,” he said. “Boss man’s like family. Shit, more of a brother than mine ever was…”
“What’s he do?” you asked. “Whats the business?”
“Uh. You might’ve heard of him,” Carter smiled to himself.
“Really?” you asked, doubting it.
“You know Krampus?”
You began to laugh it off, then your eyes drifted up to his horns again.
He wasn't lying.
You swallowed and asked, “It's his gold you're looking for?”
“Yup,” Carter nodded once.
“Who would be dumb enough to steal from Krampus?” you asked.
“Good question," Carter smiled. "I reckon we're gonna find out... He went up North to follow a couple leads... sent me back to keep an eye on things.”
“Wow,” you whispered. “He must really trust you.”
Carter managed a humble shrug, but there was a proud smile in his eyes. “When I saw your party, I guess I had a hunch somethin’ wasn't right.”
“You live in his community?” you asked.
“Yeah,” Carter nodded.
“Is he okay with you bringing me there?” You asked.
Carter looked you up and down, then smiled with half his mouth and a dark chuckle. “Yeah…he's okay with it.”
Your cheeks heated.
“Ain't scared of Wildmen, are ya?” he asked.
“Should I be?” you answered
“Good girl,” he smiled at the ground. “You'll be just fine, sugar.”
_______________________________
thank you for reading! ❤️
the amount i share on this story will depend on the level of interest, so if you're into it, please interact <3 and LMK if you want to be tagged.
tagging people I think could be interested... @milla-frenchy @cosmickid-inmotion @aurorawritestoescape @megangovier @rarachelchel @tateypots @mabelmiller @professionalpromqueen @ppascalrain @dark-scape
So I was watching Mare of Easttown with my friend @aceofcrowsnest and he noticed how Mare told Colin to get a bigger jacket when he said he was cold in this scene
1k0 | Javier Peña x fem reader x Steve Murphy | ao3
Summary: you wake up in Javi's apartment during the night, then enjoy a nice morning
Warnings: 18+ mdni. mfm, somnophilia, free use, fingering, degradation, oral (f/m), very light piss kink, cum eating. No age specified
a/n: sometimes you chat with friends in discord, thirst over pics, and an idea of an unprompted ficlet comes to life (on the 10 year anniversary of Narcos 😍😍😍). We hope you’ll enjoy it ❤️ We’re working on the next part 💕🖤
@aurorawritestoescape, love you so much baby 🫶💕 @toxicanonymity Thank you for being here with us since part 1 🐨🖤🫶 dividers @/saradika-graphics 🙏
Kate's masterlist | Milla's masterlist | series masterlist | part 3
You woke up before sunrise, feeling heat in your lower abdomen. You wondered where you were for a second, until you saw Steve's profile in the dark, his chest rising up and down slowly. Javi's apartment. Your foggy mind fully cleared up when you heard Javi's voice.
“Don't wake him up, putita.”
You were lying on your stomach, knee bent towards Steve. Javi’s fingers were digging into you from behind, while he was kissing and nibbling at your shoulder.
“Javi?”
“Our cum is still flooding your cunt.”
“Fuck, that's… that’s good, keep going, please.”
He chuckled slowly, then murmured “always fucking horny,” in your ear, his fingers pushing in and out. “Right?”
“Yeah,” you whispered.
“Turn around. Now.”
This motherfucker knew too damn well that you always happily followed his commands. Knew that it always turned you on.
He climbed down your body, pushed on your thighs with his shoulders and spread your folds with his fingers.
“Shame it's too dark to see us dripping from this hole,” he said before bringing his digits to your mouth to lick them clean.
You applied yourself, tasting their release and your arousal, the mixture making you clench with need while your eyes were fixed on Javi.
“Such a slut,” he smirked, grabbing at your thighs and diving between them to eat you out.
“Mmmm,” he hummed, lapping at your cunt, drinking all of it, from your puckered hole to your clit.
“Pussy's too good, baby.”
You came quickly, trying to hide your moans from Steve as best as you could.
Javi lay down next to you and held you possessively against him, burying his nose in your neck.
“You don't wanna fuck?” you asked.
“Nah, we’ve been railing you all night. Balls drained,” he groaned.
You fell back asleep with a smile on your face.
You woke up later in the morning needing to go to the bathroom. Javi and Steve were still asleep and you slipped out of the bed then closed the door behind you quietly. You sat on the toilet and sighed with relief before the door opened and Steve came in.
“Morning, baby,” he said in a hot sleepy voice, his gaze roaming you from head to toe. “Hot,” he smiled.
“The sound or the view?”
“Both. Wanna suck me off a little, before I take a shower?”
“Yeah, come here. Gonna do it right here.”
He stroked his already hard shaft and got closer.
“Mmm, someone's got a kink?” you teased.
He stood before you, his height was perfect for you to take him in your mouth, still sitting on the toilet.
“Seems so, sweetheart…”
You took him between your lips, your eyes locked. He tasted like you and you gushed. They had been fucking you all night, one at a time or both, but you could never get enough of them. God, they were hot.
You licked Steve’s length once you no longer tasted yourself on his tip, erasing the traces of the night there, then moved down to his balls, which were covered in your slick, as well. He placed his hand on the wall above your head when his knees started to shake.
“Shit, baby…” he stammered.
“Come in my mouth." You looked up at him, your tongue running up his cock.
“No… Gonna fuck you in the shower. Come with me, baby.”
Moments later you were caged between Steve’s broad frame and the shower wall.
“Ouch”, you hissed, when the cold tile bit at your naked back, and Steve chuckled, “My bad”. He manhandled you around and placed your palms on the wall.
“Better, sweetheart?” he whispered in your ear, his muscular arms wrapped around you, his cock poking your asscheek and then sliding between your thighs. You felt his hot tip rub against your wet folds and moaned,
“Much better.”
You were stretched so well, your pussy easily took Steve’s huge cock, when he tilted your hips and plunged inside you in one go. He started the shower with one hand, the other kneading your tit, and soon hot water was cascading down your arched back, reaching the place where you two were connected.
“Ahhh… always so wet for me,” Steve groaned and began driving his length in and out of your cunt hard and fast. The sounds of water splashing, skin-on-skin slapping and your loud moans filled the steamy room.
“Shhh, keep quiet, baby. You’ll wake Javi up.”
“Don’t want him to join us?” you smirked, glancing back at Steve with hazy eyes, and the man chuckled before responding through heavy breaths,
“Love sharing you with him — but I’m a man — men are possessive creatures.”
You could understand it. Being fucked by both Javi and Steve was the best thing ever, but when each of them had you to himself… it felt special, made your connection stronger and you valued it.
Steve nibbled on your earlobe, not pausing the thrusting, and muttered, “remember who made you come first, beautiful?”
“You, Steve”.
Warmth was spreading not only in your lower belly, but in your chest as well, so you turned your head to the side, wrapped your hand around the back of Steve’s neck, and pulled him in for a kiss.
Soon he was everywhere — licking into your whimpering mouth, stroking your puffy clit and twitching your nipple, while his cock was deliciously massaging your gummy walls.
It took mere seconds for you to fall apart in his arms and he immediately followed— standing under the hot shower you were coming together, bodies pressed close, lips glued, fingers intertwined, his cock spilling warm cum inside your clenching pussy.
“Fuck… that was hot,” Steve panted, sliding out of your hole, and turned you around. He kissed you again, now soft and slow, and you purred against his full lips, spent and completely satisfied.
Then Steve washed your body, taking his time, his palms gently gliding over your wet skin, and wrapped you in a big towel.
“Did we wake you up?” Steve asked with a smirk when you both found Javi making breakfast in the kitchen.
“Putita was moaning so loudly I bet half of the building’s up.”
You rolled your eyes, but Javi grabbed you and kissed you with vigor, his hands holding your face. Steve stood right behind you and you felt his soft lips on your neck. “Let’s wake the other half up,” he gruffed and pulled your towel down.
Ughughggghhh so hot!!!! What a perfect moodboard btw 🔥🔥🔥🔥
Waking up to Steve's sleeping profile was the perfect start, and it only got hotter. Waking up to the sight of Steve's profile AND the feeling of Javi turning you on ahhhhhhh so horny
“Morning, baby,” he said in a hot sleepy voice, his gaze roaming you from head to toe. “Hot,” he smiled.
Steeeeee ughghhhh
Love how we were conveniently seated to service him
And then he just asks for it.
And all the cum
. .. being pre stretched from being fucked all night
