Cw: Non-con, Somnophilia, Dacryphylia, Mentions of SA: read at your own risk
Pre-Murkoff Coyle really loves it when you're scared.
He comes home and finds you asleep, all tuckered out in bed from a long day of missing him, and he'll slowly crawl over you, so quiet and stealthy, making sure you aren't disturbed, and straddle you. He'll be grinning, at your peaceful little face as he unbuckles his belt, keeping careful not to make it clink too much.. he might palm himself for a bit, feel himself chub up in his slacks at the meer idea of having power over you. He'll very carefully slide your legs open, just a bit, just enough for him to fit, spit on his cock just to wet it enough for his own benefit, not yours. He's surprised that you don't wake up immediately, he wants you to, he wants you to be scared and frightened and confused. He purposefully fucks into you harsher, forcibly ripping you from slumber. You are hazy, still tired, all you can do the moment you wake is cry out weakly. God, the sound makes him ten times harder. Leland makes sure you don't know it's him- If you're lying on your back, he will shove your face into the mattress, half suffocating you and making you unable to look at him, and if you're lying on your front, he achieves the same thing by covering your eyes with his hand. Not your mouth though, he wants to hear you cry and weep, beg for help and know that none was coming. To beg *him* for help, not knowing it was him who was doing this to you. He pins you down under his weight, no matter how much you scream and wriggle and try to escape, he has you trapped. He wants you to have no idea it's him, he gets off on the idea you think some stranger has broken into your home and that is who's assaulting you, and you're so scared you want you're beloved Police Officer to save you. Leland usually can't stop his mouth running when he fucks you, but he keeps absolutely silent this time, you are none the wiser. The only noise he makes is a short, quiet hum as he cums inside, exaggerating his thrusts as he rides out his high, making you sob even more. He keeps you pinned for a few minutes, his dick slowly softening inside you and his cum thoroughly fucked into you... before he releases his hand over your eyes, or shoved against the back of your head, and God, your eyes, so terrified, wet with tears, he wants to eat you up. He absolutely relishes the little shocked look that graces you, once you discover its him, and overwhelmed, you just burst out into tears again. That's what he loves about you. He's so fake with his comfort, so condescending as you whimper out his name, a touch of fear to your tone that makes his dick twitch to life again. He kisses your cheeks to taste your tears and cradles your face in his big hands to see just how easily he could break you. You poor thing, did he frighten you? Were you scared it was some dangerous stranger fucking you, and not your noble, handsome Police Sergeant? Did mean ol' Coyle play a dirty trick on you? Aw, he didn't mean it sweetness, you're just a little dumb, aren't you? Just a little empty headed sometimes, yeah? It's your own fault you got yourself so worked up over nothing.. but don't worry, you got America's finest here to look after you.
Pre-Murkoff! Coyle who pulls you over late one night because you were “speeding”, asking you to get out of your car for a routine traffic stop before cuffing you and bending you over the hood of his police cruiser. Your head is pushed against the cool metal, cheek scraping lightly with every rough thrust as he fucks into you from behind. “You better thank me sweetheart, thank me for using this tight pussy instead of writing you a ticket.” You choke out a helpless “Thank you-“ as he continues his relentless assault on your pussy. “Atta girl. Young sluts like you always need to be taught some manners.” His grip on your hip tightens, fingers bruising as he drives into you harder, the sound of skin slapping skin loud in the empty night. “You kids think the law’s a joke. Somebody’s gotta remind you what happens when you forget who’s in charge.” He leans over you, chest pressed to your back, breath hot against your ear. “This is what happens when you ignore the law.” And with a few more harsh thrusts you feel the warm ropes of his load flood your womb. “You’ll remember this the next time you think you can ignore the rules,” he mutters. “That’s what people like you need. A reminder. A little fear. Something that finally sticks.”
Asking for the leland coyle forced petplay bitch fic please 🙏
brought to heel
Summary - Kidnapped and held prisoner, Leland Coyle makes his plans for your future very clear. (tw for non con and various abuses)
Link to AO3 ☆ Fic Masterlist ☆ Outlast Masterlist
"If Murkoff can keep throwing handfuls of you sexy little bitches at us for rehabilitation then I’m sure they won't mind me taking one for myself.
Fighting off unconsciousness at the hands of his stun baton and thick boots, Coyle's words had barely registered as your vision darkened and the taste of the blood filling your mouth had started to choke you as it slipped down your battered throat. But, as you would soon come to discover, it was a spoken decision - an off-the-cuff choice - that would come to destroy your life as you knew it when the darkness finally claimed you.
The first morning in your new life had been hell.
Awaking to find yourself handcuffed to the metal bedframe of Coyle's private room - a fact your screaming mind was quick to discern from the spare police fatigues which hung against the wall and the stench of cigarette smoke which clung to the air - you hoped that it had been some kind of mistake. A foolish hope had clung to your thoughts, cutting through the fear. A hope that Murkoff would realise you had not managed to make your way back into the safety of the shuttle and come to wherever the fuck this was and retrieve you. That they would unshackle you, drag you back to the safety of your sleep room, and give you the medical treatment you desperately needed as your blackened eye and burst lip ached with every frantic movement of your head.
But no.
No one had come.
That was, until an hour later when the metal doors to the room had flickered to life - yellow lights flashing as Leland Coyle waltzed through the door with an air of absolute malice. His appearance was familiar, police uniform and cap clinging to his broad body as he stared down at your prone positioning with his eyes as hidden as ever behind his dark shades.
Your clothing was tattered, a shirt and shorts stained by your own blood and a few errant splotches of Coyle’s come making the fabric feel filthy and worn. Even so, you had been thankful for it, the clothing giving you some dignity as you had gazed blearily up at Coyle’s smug expression.
"Oh good, you woke up! Kinda had me worried there before I left, had me thinking that maybe I'd been a bit too heavy handed with the discipline. My ex-wives always said I got a mean streak in me when I wanted something. Well,” he paused, “I’m sure they thought it anyway. Never got round to telling me that to my handsome face. Probably afraid I’d react poorly."
Your hands, slickened with sweat, had pulled at the handcuffs which circled your left ankle. With every passing moment, the pain in your body and face seemed to worsen – his very presence making the damage feel worse as you tried to keep your mind sharp, panicked thoughts scattering with every breath.
“Why am I here? What is this? You can’t-can’t do this. There are rules.”
“Rules?” Coyle laughed at that, your trapped positioning amusing him as he openly disregarded your words and took a step forward.
“My motherfucking rules are the only rules. You oughta know that by now, honey. If that little half-man freak gets a gun, then I get to keep something for myself. That’s fair. That’s my fucking rule.”
“Keep?” The word had come out as a squeak as your worst fears were confirmed.
"You're mine now, sweetheart. A special pet to break in and bring to heel until you're the best bitch that a lawman could ever ask for. You'll do what I tell you to. Sit, play, fuck, shut that pretty mouth. Whatever I want. And you’ll do it or face discipline like any other mongrel slut. You understanding me?"
A pet.
More like something for him to torture and fuck as he saw fit.
Borderline hysterical, you had pulled at the handcuffs until the thin metal threatened to tear the skin off your ankle as you begged him.
"Please don't do this. Take me back. Put me back, Murkof-"
Your pleading was cut off by a sharp pain across your cheek, the result of his gloved hand cracking off the skin there in an open-palmed slap. It rung in your ears, making your vision swim, and fresh blood touched at your tongue as the blow re-opened the barely-healing cut on your lip.
"That's for talking back." Coyle sneered. "Lesson one, don’t fucking do that. Next time you forget then you'll ride the lightning ‘til you learn some good home manners. Hell, I might have you do that just to watch you dance. You’re mine, honey. And you’re gonna learn what that means. If God didn’t want me to take these liberties, then he wouldn’t have given me all this.” He gestured around the small room. “And I deserve something nice. Fucking place has gone to ruin and it’s up to me to keep the beatnik fuck-o’s and commie shitbirds in line.”
“Please, please.” Unable to accept the truth of your situation, your pleas weren’t necessarily directed at your new captor, but to anyone who could hear you, anyone cosmic being who could feel how desperate you were to be helped. “God, please someone help me.”
“God ain’t coming for you. Not here. Here you only got me and ain’t that a kick in the shitter? Don’t worry though, honey. It ain’t all bad, in fact, I’m gonna sit down on that bed and if you can show me some healthy cooperation,” Coyle’s hand dropped to his groin, rubbing at his cock as his pink tongue flicked at his lower lip, “then maybe I’ll save starting that training regime I got in mind for that sexy ass of yours ‘til tomorrow.”
Despite it all, and with every nerve in your body screaming at you for even considering it, you had crawled your way between his legs and taken his cock down your throat until he was satisfied. His vocal appreciation culminating in his hands locking around your head as he pumped his release deep into your throat while he unleashed a growled praise which struck through your chest like a bullet.
“Good girl.”
Now, a full two weeks into your forced role as his personal bitch, the time marked by small scratches which your ragged nails had carved into the corner of his walls, the continued familiarity of each days torments sparked nothing but misery with every waking moment.
The morning routine was always the same.
You would be dragged from a broken sleep by either his gloved hand tapping at your face or the thick tread of his boot pressing hard into the exposed skin of your legs. Then you would have to present yourself between his legs, crawling off your curled position at the end of his bed to place your kneeling body on all fours as he sat on the edge of his mattress and decided how he first wanted to use you that morning. Typically, he would just use your mouth; burying his morning wood down your throat without any care for your need to breath as he grunted and slapped at your tits with harsh fingers when he had to pull his cock free to keep you from passing out.
But sometimes, when he had woken up in a particularly bad mood, he would ignore the easy use of your mouth in favour of one of your other holes.
His use of your cunt wasn't terrible as his almost constant use of your stinging hole between trials, whether with his cock or the handle of his stun baton which he loved to make you clean off with your mouth, kept you somewhat stretched and prepared for the thick swell of his cock. But what killed you, the shame which scorched you from the inside out, was the fact that your body had started to naturally produce arousal from the very first moment you awoke – your cunt rapidly conditioned into knowing that it would save you a lot of pain in the long run.
It was a shame he revelled in with Coyle commenting daily on your whorish ways, mocking how perverted you must truly be to be getting off on being treated like a breeding bitch. It was a perversion he used as an excuse to punish you, claiming that he was responsible for your rehabilitation as he alternated between using his stun baton and hands to spank at your ass and defenceless clit while he used you as roughly as he pleased.
And yet, it was still preferable to the mornings where he woke up and whatever nightmares plagued him caused him to rise with a sadistic glare that immediately made tears spring into your eyes as you knew he would demand the free use of your ass. It was a hole he typically saved for punishment, for showing you just what misery fucking up his simple commands would bring. No matter how much you would beg, making him verbal and physical offers to use your other holes as much as he wanted, you would always be left a sobbing, broken mess with an ass that would leak his release, the liquid tinged a nasty shade of pink, for hours after the assault.
His trainings, the main focus of your time together, were brutal.
Guided by his whimsical wants, Coyle would randomly choose a new ‘trick’ he wanted you to learn and would spend hours enforcing it until you could perform perfectly. From developing your deepthroating skills to keep you from gagging too much around his cock as his pubic hair tickled your nose to maintaining stress positions which made your muscles spasm and sobs wrack your throat as you fought the urge to move, his demands were merciless and he proved himself willing to spend as long as he needed; every possible opportunity to punish you being taken with sadistic glee.
His favourite trick was ‘spread em’, and that command forced you to drop whatever other menial task you were completing and crawl between his legs - turning away and pressing your chest down low to the floor as you arched your back, showcasing your ass to him as he palmed you through your shorts and talked you through what his choices were. Sometimes it was for a quick fuck, other times he simply wanted to play with you - alternating between using his fingers to tease your pussy before delivering a low voltage shock to the sensitive skin - chuckling at how it made you squeal and cry beneath his hands.
The only peace which you were afforded was when Coyle was summoned for his work within the trials, a task which thankfully did take up a good portion of his days. He could be gone for hours at a time, allowing you to breathe safely for a moment and stretch your legs in a way you knew would piss him off if he saw. It had taken a full day for you to earn the right to lose the handcuffs and you had repaid that kindness by staying on all fours for most of the time you shared, a show of submission which Coyle demanded as he handfed you some of the meals which were delivered to his room.
On that front, Murkoff had intervened only once directly. You had noticed that the food deliveries seemed too much for one person and from that you guessed that Murkoff knew exactly where you were and didn’t care. But once, when Coyle was absent on trial, you had awoken to the pain of a sting in the fleshy part of your ass and your eyes had snapped open to find a nameless Murkoff scientist, their identity hidden behind a full-bodied hazmat suit as they discarded the used needle in one of the lined pockets of his suit.
"Help me." You had croaked out, the plea pathetic and shameless in its desperation as you turned to face him fully, your body curled up into a defensive ball. "Take me back. Tell the staff that I’m willing to go back into any trial they want. J-just help me!"
But the scientist had remained unmoved, the masculine voice which muttered from behind the reflective mask even and controlled without a hint of sympathy.
"That injection works as a long-term birth control.” He disclosed, clinical and lifeless in his delivery. “The higher-ups don't want to have to deal with the hassle of that possible outcome."
And with that he left though the impenetrable metal doors which Coyle typically used, leaving you sobbing and screaming incoherently as the knowledge that you were truly abandoned seeped into your bones like a splash of freezing water.
The day after that little revelation was the only time you had attempted an escape, exactly one week into your forced servitude as your desperation reached its peak. Waiting until you were certain Coyle was asleep, you had crawled from your position on the bed towards the single metal door, a slight sliver of the door not quite having closed fully since Coyle’s previous arrival. If you could have slipped your fingers within the space then maybe you could have pried it open and snuck through into the darkness, risking the lack of a plan to make enough distance to get someone, anyone, to help.
You had only made it as far as getting the first part of your right hand into the space before the thump of heavy shoes stopped your heart in your chest and you were afforded no time to explain before Coyle was bearing down on you. Even now, you weren’t sure how you had survived the beating he delivered, consciousness only fleeing as his boot collided with the side of your head after working its way along every inch of your unprotected body – the torn shirt and panties which Coyle had kindly allowed you to keep giving you absolutely no protection from his rage.
Having passed out in agony, waking up the following morning was worse, the ache of your battered body only made more difficult to ignore by the cruel additional ache which radiated from both your holes – your ass still leaking his release as your swollen cunt housed markings which told you that Coyle had beaten the skin there with something dull as he used your unconscious body like a fuckdoll.
After that, a hollowing acceptance had stolen much of your fight as you fell into your role with a forced obedience which sought to protect and keep you from as much pain as possible. You listened to his demands, and tried to please him as he wished. You ate when he ate, you tried to keep from going to his filthy bathroom when it would annoy him, you existed at his beck and call, a simple whistle and tap on the edge of his bed enough to make you pliant to his needs.
Sometimes he wanted to use your holes, sometimes he wanted you to clean his space; collecting old cigarette butts and placing them into an old container to be discarded when food was delivered.
Coyle seemed pleased with his results. His vocal appreciation of your training pairing with the odd bit of affection which leaked through the abuses, his hands stroking along your hair and body, gently cupping many of the areas where he would leave livid marks with either his teeth or the prongs of his baton. Sometimes he would even come back from a trial in great spirits, his clothing reeking of the acrid burn that could only come from his baton cooking fresh skin and you knew he'd scored a victory against some other poor bastards.
His dick would already be wet as he presented it to you, flaccid and recently used, and his expectation that your tongue would clean him off of whatever filth remained was clear.
And you would.
You did it filled with a guilty happiness that, for once, someone else had taken the brunt of his brutal sexual tastes made your enthusiasm unmistakable and Coyle chuckled at your busy tongue with that familiar praise which was now burned your skin like a wicked brand.
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, jealousy, possessiveness, bad parenting, narcissism, misogyny, the police, swearing, entitlement, alcohol, drinking, arguing, perverted statements, slapping, flirting, sexual conversations, dominance, smoking, cigarettes, kissing, grinding, hair pulling, hickeys, praise, cheating, fingering, descriptions of nudity, smut, begging, cuddling, lack of protection, and mentions of: Violence, religious themes, crying, weapons, and police brutality.
Word Count: 16,295
The following morning, Leland had transformed into a completely different person. The sudden alteration within his personality was comparable to that of night and day, like chalk and cheese. From an outsiders perspective, it was as if Coyle had seemingly been replaced by some sort of identical doppelgänger.
Yesterday, he had been rather pleasant, polite, and extremely amiable. Leland had utilized his manners whilst within public, holding the door for those behind him and providing tourists with the correct directions. Coyle's entire demeanor had been similar to that of a warm summer breeze: He had been benevolent, kind, and approachable. Everything one would expect a police officer of his social status to be. He had not been supporting some sort of facade, pretending to be friendly in order to deceit those around him. No. Instead, such joy had been entirely true, simply due to the manner in which the young woman had managed to provide him with a simple morsel of her own attention. Coyle felt comparable to a God, just because the young woman had subtly glanced within his general direction.
Yet, as yesterday shifted into today, Leland had seemingly devolved. As if some sort of hypothetical switch had flipped within his system, Coyle was now cold, rude, and distant. Rather than acting both compassionate and caring towards others. Instead, he was now mean, vicious, and malicious. It was as if there was some sort of invisible storm cloud consistently looming above his shoulders, causing the sensation of frustration and vexation to successfully infiltrate his entire being. Simply due to the reality that the young woman had failed to provide him with the proper attention, as he had come to expect. Instead, she would much rather sit on the phone with her little boyfriend (Lelands literal son), all whilst she repeatedly giggled and twirled her hair, like she was utterly infatuated with Michael.
Reasonably, Coyle possessed no right to become so upset regarding such a reality. In all honesty, he was acting rather foolish. The young woman was allowed to speak with his son. She was permitted to giggle at each of his lousy jokes and tease him from over the phone, as most girlfriends typically behave towards their partners. And considering the fact that Michael was her literal boyfriend, Leland shouldn't have been so surprised. But for some reason, he was.
God, he felt like an emotional teenage boy all over again. The moment a girl provided him with even a millisecond of attention, Coyle was practically floating amongst the clouds. However, the moment his previous expectations were denied, he would suddenly come crashing back down to Earth, reality greeting him like a swift slap across the face, causing him to become even more enraged than before. Leland never failed to allow his hopes to rise, no matter how outrageous such assumptions truly were.
Once the young woman had successfully responded to the phone call before swiftly starting to chat with his son, and after Coyle had stormed upstairs and disappeared into the confines of his bedroom, he had struggled to properly rest that evening. Not only was he constantly pestered by the audio of their muffled conversation, perceiving the sound of the young woman's sugary laughter whilst she repeatedly giggled in response to whatever stupid joke Michael had managed to execute. Additionally, there was a strange sensation of curiosity churning within the depths of Leland's stomach whilst he laid within bed, completely awake, and staring distantly towards the ceiling above.
Coyle wondered what the two were currently conversing about. Were they talking about him? Had the young woman even briefly mentioned him within a rather positive manner? Or had the pair avoided such a topic entirely?
A rather disturbing thought had suddenly appeared within his mind, causing Leland to briefly contemplate successfully creeping from his bed, avoiding each squeaky floorboard, and positioning himself upon the landing of the stairs. He considered the option of remaining situated within the darkness of the shadows whilst he covertly listened to the conversation currently occurring between his own son and the young woman.
He yearned to decipher exactly what Michael had declared, each stupid joke that had caused the young woman to laugh within such a genuinely amused manner. Coyle was desperate to memorize each of his son's seemingly charming tactics, to learn exactly how Michael had managed to court such a beautiful woman within the first place. He was determined to utilize such techniques within the future, in order to properly flatter the young woman. Christ, if Michael could do it, then so could he.
Leland was honestly willing to screw over his own son, simply in order to obtain what he desired: The young woman. He was both selfish and extremely arrogant, certain that he could gain the affection of the young woman, despite the fact that she currently possessed a happy relationship with his own son.
Yet, he had ultimately decided against such an opportunity. Sure, Coyle was a self-centered and rather narcissistic individual. But, as he remained dormant within bed, occasionally stirring amongst the sheets, his own morals had made a rare appearance. His conscious had practically demanded that he remain confined within his room, as far away from the young woman as possible, before he made an awful mistake he couldn't just ignore.
In all honesty, Leland wasn't doing this for his own son, to maintain their rather agreeable relationship by doing the correct thing and not sleeping with his own son's girlfriend. Instead, he was doing this for the young woman, to protect her from the beast that she had been sleeping only a few yards away from every night: Himself. Yet, most importantly, he was doing this for his own sake, to preserve his respectable reputation of the flawless police officer around town. If even a singular person discovered Lelands tendency towards much younger prizes, then his entire life would surely be ruined.
Every occasion in which the young woman's soft giggles would creep into his ears, the muffled audio of her gentle voice, and the occasional sound of each foolish pet name she had provided to his own son (including: Handsome, babe, love, and many more), had caused Leland to wince. He would physically flinch as if he was currently being threatened with a swift slap across the face.
Coyle had always adored his son, loved him more than anything within the entire world. Michael had been his own creation, crafted into the young man he is today, simply due to the years of both hard work and dedication executed by Leland himself. He was extremely proud of his son; Coyle was overjoyed when Michael was accepted into college, pleased once he had acquired his very own job, and in all honesty, Leland had cried when Michael had taken his first steps as a baby. Yet, he would never admit to such a reality of course.
However, within that moment, as he perceived the young woman's soft giggles and the manner in which she had regarded Michael within such a fond manner, expressing her appreciation through a wide variety of different compliments, such as "I hope you're having fun, you deserve it." Or "Its so kind of you to visit your grandmother, Mikey. You're such a good man." Even a rather sly "I cant wait until you come home. I have a surprise for you." (A statement that had caused Leland to become nauseous all over again). He just couldn't seem to help but become rather jealous. Within Lelands mind, Michael was no longer his son. Instead, he was competition.
Coyle wondered what the fuck Michael had ever done in order to deserve such affection. Christ, the kid could barely do his laundry on his own. In comparison, Leland was obviously the much better option, right? He possessed a rather commendable job, Coyle was well liked amongst the community, and Leland was obviously much more experienced than his lousy son. Therefore, he was certain that he should have been the one to receive such pet names from the young woman's lips, he should have been rewarded with such affection, and he should have been the one the young woman twirled her hair whilst talking with. And as such thoughts managed to successfully burrow into the depths of his mind, the scowl currently etched across his lips only continued to further expand.
The following morning, Leland was utterly worn, as if he had occupied the entire night with the task of fighting some sort of invisible enemy within his slumber. He had barely slept, much too overwhelmed by his own, intense emotions. And the second he would manage to successfully drift to sleep, he was often disrupted by the audio of the young woman's laughter as soon as his eyes had properly fluttered shut, causing the cycle of curiosity, frustration, and eventual restlessness to repeat all over again.
Additionally, his anger had failed to decrease. In fact, after experiencing a rather vivid dream, a vision in which he had discovered the young woman and Michael sharing a rather passionate kiss, his rage had only further intensified. He was aware of the reality that such an image was obviously just an event his mind had conjured up. However, that didn't dismiss the fact that such an occasion (the young woman kissing his own son) had obviously occurred before. Possibly even more than such a simple embrace. The mere thought only managed to further sicken him.
Coyle was utterly exhausted as he awoke from his slumber, after repeatedly snoozing his alarm about four or five times before he eventually stirred. His limbs ached, vision foggy, and a subtle, pounding sensation had successfully situated itself within his temple.
Compared to the previous morning, when Leland was greeted by the warmth of the summer sun and comforted by the tune of chirping birds, a rather relaxing atmosphere to be awoken by. Instead, his room was now cold, the sky dark with looming clouds, and dreary shadows shrouded each of his surroundings. Coyle was practically shivering as he stumbled from bed, yearning for nothing more than to simply crawl back into the confines of the sheets, curl up within the warmth, and drift back to sleep.
Leland waltzed down the stairs, movements rather slow and hesitant with each step he executed, before he finally arrived within the kitchen. And similar to the last few days, he was instantly greeted by the vision of his ironed uniform, a prepared lunch, and an available breakfast of both coffee and a donut situated upon the counter.
Typically, such a discovery would have been received as rather kind and sweet by Coyle. He had always appreciated whenever someone was nice enough to consider himself, especially in regards to the young woman. Flattered that she was willing to go out of her way, rising much earlier than what was required, in order to simply tend to his own life. However, as he silently observed the provided items, Leland failed to experience any sort of gratitude or delight, happy that the young woman had taken care of him, entirely upon her own accord. Instead, he was only further frustrated by such a kind display.
How could she keep doing this to him? Dragging him along as if she truly cared? Within the young woman's mind, she had most likely regarded such behaviors as a simple transactions, an attempt to thank Leland for his hospitality. Of course she would do this for him, he was her boyfriend's father after all. She was only being polite, right? However, Coyle regarded each task, every chore, and all of her behaviors as some kind of confession. As if simply heating up coffee was comparable to an admission of her own love for him. In all honesty, Leland had repeatedly allowed his hopes to rise whenever the young woman had simply created a basic sandwich for him to consume during his lunch break.
Furthermore, the small note situated beside the brewed coffee was comparable to a swift slap across the face. The same manner in which someone may spit upon their victim after beating them to the brink of consciousness. It was just the cherry on top.
Where did you go last night? I wanted to finish the movie :(
- (Y/N)
The brief letter had read.
Rather than responding with a proper note of his own, or folding the small piece of paper into the pocket of his jacket for further inspection, just as he had done the previous mornings. Instead, Leland had released an annoyed growl before crumbling up the note and ultimately disregarding it into the trashcan. Rage continued to boil within the depths of his gut as he crushed the paper within his palm, releasing all of his pent up frustration onto the frail note.
Leland had been an absolute menace at work. Like a wild young adult experiencing their first taste of freedom, he was obnoxious, rowdy, and completely untamed.
Of course, his boss had provided him with an array of various tasks as soon as he arrived at work. Just like every other morning, the Sheriff would demand that Leland execute a variety of chores, from boring paper work to researching an active crime. However, as soon as Coyle had entered the police station that specific morning, he had simply stormed inside, clocked in, before immediately vanishing out the front door once more. Even as his boss had shouted "You're on thin ice, Sargent!" He had still failed to properly acknowledge the other man. Instead, he simply ignored the Sheriff as he burst through the exit.
The poor women employed at the local diner, Leland had really put them through the wringer that specific day. Much more insufferable than usual.
In all honesty, the staff had allowed their expectations to rise regarding Coyle, assuming that he would simply float through the entrance and act both polite and generous as he had done the previous day. He had been an absolute saint yesterday, complimenting the staff and providing them with rather charitable tips. The rain of terror Leland had executed upon that diner for the last few years had finally concluded. At least, that is what the waitresses had assumed.
Instead, they were soon proven wrong, their dreams soon destroyed as soon as Coyle proceeded to tear through the diner ten times worse than usual. It was as if the kind version of the officer had made his rare, guest appearance the previous morning, all smiles and compliments, the depiction of the most positive person upon planet Earth. Yet, the nice twin had seemingly disappeared the following morning, disembarking upon some sort of vacation before ultimately being replaced by the infamous Officer Dickhead all over again.
Leland had erupted through the front door like a bat out of Hell, an obnoxious action that had rewarded him with a rather skeptical glare from every person present, including both the staff and other customers. Yet, Coyle hadn't appeared to mind. In fact, it was as if he didn't even notice. Instead, he simply stomped through the restaurant, ignorant to the sudden silence that had instantly engulfed the entire business, before collapsing rather harshly upon his designated stool in front of the bar.
From the moment he had arrived within the diner, Leland had been absolutely awful, to an almost insane degree. His antics had seemingly intensified, ten times worse than normal. Rather than the simple verbal berate each poor waitress would receive from the lips of Officer Dickhead, Coyle had become almost patronizing, practically searching for any reason to absolutely destroy any unassuming individual who just happened to cross his path.
Not only had he executed an array of rather insulting statements directed towards others, such as "Yer biscuit ain't done in the middle, is it, sweetheart?" When one of the cooks had failed to add enough cheese upon his eggs. Or "Yer as dumb as a box of rocks." Once "too much sugar" had been added to his coffee. However, his bullying had evolved much further than the simple verbal harassment he had become so accustomed to. Instead, that specific day, Leland had transformed into something comparable to that of a literal demon.
He would wait until the business had encountered a sudden rush, an influx of costumers that the staff had been completely unprepared for. Once there was a line sprawling out the door and every single seat was actively occupied, thats when he would strike. Coyle would "accidentally" knock his plate from the surface of the counter, the dish clattering against the floor and causing an array of both eggs and bacon to explode across the ground. Of course, he would express a rather fake and hollow "Oh my gosh, I am so sorry. Im such a klutz." All whilst he silently observed the waitress clean up the mess he had caused, without offering even an ounce of assistance. Along with an additional "Soooo.... Am I gonna get a new meal or what?"
As soon as Leland perceived one of the younger employees supporting a rather stressed expression, extremely overwhelmed by the sudden amount of patrons, he would utilize such an opportunity to his own amusement. He would successfully halt the young woman, waving her down as if he desperately required her service in specific, before ultimately further intensifying her own anxiety with a collection of futile inquiries. "Yer mama must hate ya, makin' ya work at a shit hole like this. Or are ya just poor or somethin'?" He would ask, a rather devious grin trembling across his lips, a condescending tone lacing his words. "Ya must be cold dressed like that. What does yer daddy think of ya wearin' that little outfit?" He would state, referencing her work mandated uniform of a simple skirt and a formal top. "I can give ya the number of a really good mechanic I know. Ya look like ya drove all the way here with your windows down, sunshine." And once his tsunami of questions had finally concluded, the young waitress had swiftly scurried away, cowering within the bathroom as she released a sob of ugly tears. A result in which had caused a smirk of satisfaction to quiver upon Lelands lips.
Of course, to express his appreciation for the staff who had been forced to tolerate Lelands antics, he had failed to provide a tip. Not even a singular cent, which was a drastic difference compared to yesterdays gratuity. Unless you count a dark coffee stain engraved into the counter, sticky syrup stuck to the floor, and a sobbing waitress as some sort of reconciliation.
Once his shift had finally concluded, Coyle had literally sped home. He traveled well over the limit, at least twenty above the mandated speed, no matter if he was traveling through a school zone or not. Realistically, who was gonna stop him? The police? Additionally, he had even utilized both the lights and sirens available upon the cruiser, neon illumination flashing from his car and deafening alarms blaring through the atmosphere. Signals that literally forced pedestrians towards the side of the street (due to the reality that such accessories often symbolized some sort of emergency). Yet, there was no crisis. Instead, he had just simply desired to return home sooner, much too superior to wait within traffic like everyone else. Coyle didn't care what anyone else was currently experiencing, the possibility that the other drivers upon the road were in an actual hurry. None of that matter within Leland's mind.
He flew into the driveway as if he was some sort of street racer, engraving dark tire marks into the pavement. Coyle had failed to remain dormant within the confines of his vehicle, as he often did following each and every work shift. He did not slump into his seat after a rather exhausting day of labour, searching for any source of relaxation. In fact, he had barely managed to shift the car into park before he was removing the keys from the ignition and throwing the door open.
Leland jumped from the vehicle, slammed the door shut behind him, and began to march towards the front entrance. He was not desperate to arrive inside, excited to simply spend time with the young woman, as he had been the previous afternoon. Coyle failed to distance himself as much as possible, due to his extreme anger. Rather, he was some what thrilled by the opportunity to torment the young woman, just as she had patronized him. He wanted to make her feel like shit, to see her cry and sob, as the result of his own harassment. He yearned to make her regret the offensive manner in which she had treated him, whilst literally on the phone with his own son.
Coyle burst through the front entrance as if a bomb had just detonated, the door slamming against the interior wall and making the hinges release a rather painful squeal. He kicked off his boots within an extremely lazy manner, allowing his shoes to land anywhere but the mat (a mess of mud and dirt littered across the floor that the young woman would surely be forced to manage within the near future). Leland absently disregarded his jacket, practically chucking it upon the hanger, causing the coat rack to tremble beneath the intensity. And he had slammed the door shut behind him, so harshly, the structure of his house had released an agonizing groan.
Such obnoxious actions had caused the young woman, who was currently situated in front of the stove, actively preparing a meal just for him, to glance towards him from over her shoulder. A rather confused expression was visibly etched across his features, brows furrowed within uncertainty and a hint of skepticism lacing her irises. Over the last few days, not once had she observed Coyle act so harsh, not even when he had returned home that very first day, assuming that his house was under some sort of attack, due to the fact that the front door had been left wide open.
The smell of cooked meat and a mixture of different spices instantly infiltrated his nostrils upon arrival, due to the reality that the young woman was actively working in front of the oven. Typically, the scent of a stewing meal would provide Coyle with a rather relaxing sensation of comfort, no longer forced to prepare a rather shitty dinner after a lengthy day of work, desiring nothing more than to simply collapse upon his arm chair and observe various Western films until he ultimately fell asleep.
The reality that there was currently a fresh beer situated upon the table, practically waiting for his own consumption, would have normally caused a fond smile to explode across his lips. Leland had always appreciated such little favors, adoring when someone else provided him with such small gifts, lacking any sort of prior instructions. He liked to know that those around him were thinking of him as well.
Additionally, the simple sight of the young woman actively preparing dinner just for him, all whilst supporting only the modesty provided by a small skirt and a rather flattering top, would usually cause a warm and somewhat unfamiliar sensation to suddenly engulf his chest. In all honesty, Leland desired nothing more than to return home everyday to the sight of his gorgeous lover wearing practically nothing whilst she prepared a warm meal just for him, along with a fresh beer available specifically for his own enjoyment.
However, each of these factors had failed to provide Coyle with such reassurance. He was not overwhelmed with a mixture of both appreciation and affection, as he typically would have been if he had returned home to such a favorable view. Instead, Leland had simply stomped towards the table, retrieved the alcoholic beverage within his firm grip, before swiftly chugging every last drop of the cold beer. All whilst he remained completely enraged, not even a single hint of happiness managing to infiltrate his system.
"Get me another." He demanded whilst tossing the empty beer rather carelessly on top of the counter, his voice both stern and cold, completely ignoring the reality that the glass bottle might shatter at any moment. If that had been the case, then he could simply command the young woman to clean the mess.
In all honesty, Coyle had expected the young woman to immediately obey as a result of his blatant frustration. He assumed she would instantly scamper towards the fridge and acquire a new beer just for Leland, in order to successfully clam his nerves and properly avoid the obvious outburst that was about to occur. The young woman had always been polite, attentive, and rather submissive, often executing each of Coyle's instructions, without any form of disagreement. Therefore, within that exact moment, he had assumed she would behave within the same manner: Obedient, eager, and rather desperate to please.
Yet, that had not been the case. Instead, she had suddenly slammed the ladle against the counter, the tool she had been previously utilizing in order to repeatedly stir the brewing food. An action in which had caused a rather obnoxious bang to erupt throughout the room, certainly not ignorant to the manner in which Coyle had instinctually flinched, rapidly blinking on account of the loud and rather unexpected noise.
An irritated scowl was currently etched across the young woman's features as she shifted towards Leland, her brows furrowed and lips tipped down wards. As she spun within his direction, Coyle swiftly discovered the reality that the hint of confusion that had previously laced her vision had suddenly disappeared, immediately replaced by a flicker of annoyance. She did not appear hesitant or apprehensive as she turned away from the stove, a mixture of both fear and concern causing her to become reluctant. Instead, the young woman seemed confident, her movements both assured and unfaltering as she turned towards Coyle, like she was actually attempting to physically defy him.
Fear had not glazed her features, the young woman was not trembling as a result of his intense actions, and she had failed to simply submit to his entitled demands, scampering towards the fridge in order to retrieve his desired beverage. Rather, the young woman had simply turned towards Coyle, a rather confident expression plastered across her face. Her vision was both steady and unfaltering, chest puffed within the same manner a bird might fluff its feathers in an attempt to appear much more dominant in front of a predator, and posture stiff and firm, failing to reveal any hint of hesitancy with the usage of a slouched or cowering stance.
"Excuse me?" She had declared, much less of a question and more of a statement. Her tone was both firm and unfaltering, directly addressing his immature behaviors, instead of simply attempting to please him with the usage of basic obedience and obvious ignorance. The young woman had not simply ignored Lelands outburst. Rather, she had blatantly regarded his disrespect. "What the Hell is your issue?"
She did not surrender or simply cower before Coyle's aggression. Instead, she had executed a swift step within his direction, her movements precise as she remained entirely confident, swiftly demolishing the space available between the two. The young woman did not attempt to physically distance herself, fleeing the scene due to Lelands increasing rage. No. Instead, she remained both assured and firm, failing to simply submit.
Such a reality had momentarily shocked Leland. He was not accustomed to others actively defying his demands, especially not a woman. In all honesty, Coyle had previously assumed that she would simply shrink in front of him, cowering with fear due to his intense volume and blatant anger. Just as everyone else had previously regarded Leland. From random civilians to his previous lovers, no one had ever so obviously resisted his instructions.
Yet, within that specific moment, that had not been the case. Rather, the young woman had only continued, regarding him with the same disrespect he had previously greeted her with: Raising her voice, utilizing harsh movements, and speaking to him as if he was her subordinate.
"You need to fucking watch it, Leland." She had stated, voice both firm and stern, pointing a rather harsh finger within his face whilst she glared towards him, as if he was the dirty gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe "Im being fucking nice. I make you food, clean your house, and iron your damn clothes, as if you're a fucking baby or something. All without a simple thank you in return. And you think you can treat me like garbage? You obviously need to reconsider the way you speak to me, you fucking prick."
Coyle's previous shock had failed to remain for very long, especially after the young woman possessed the nerve to speak to him within such a manner. Who was she to regard him as if he was inferior to herself? She thought she could both insult and swear at him? She obviously needed to learn her fucking place. He was her senior after all, the beloved officer who possessed all of the authority. Whereas she was just a stupid kid. Didn't she know better than to disrespect her elders?
Leland had suddenly been revived back to reality, his previous shock suddenly vanishing form his system, before swiftly being replaced with a rather intense sensation of fury. He was desperate to display his dominance within the situation, to regain his confidence, and support his typically assured persona. Therefore, Leland had failed to properly step away. Instead, he had traveled even closer to her, their chests upon the verge of colliding, all whilst he released a growl of frustration, continuously inhaling rapid breaths on account of his intensifying anger, and glaring down his nose towards the young woman. Now it was his turn to observe her as if she was the nuisance of gum stuck to the bottom of his boots.
"My issue? Whats my fucking issue?!" He chuckled, not necessarily an amused laugh, but more like an irritated scoff, as if he couldn't even believe what you had just exclaimed "Whats yer fucking issue, huh? You come into my home, make me dinner, and clean up after my mess! Like yer my fucking wife or something. All whilst wearing basically fucking nothing." He exclaimed whilst motioning towards her current outfit, as if she was basically naked (despite the fact that she was completely dressed) "And you have the nerve to ask what my issue it?"
Such a reaction had seemed to be a rather taboo subject for the young woman. She failed to respond with some sort of snarky remark or aggressive attitude, as she had previously done. She no longer appeared confident, assured, and firm. Instead, the young woman had suddenly become completely silent. She was quiet, to an almost unnerving extend. Yet, she wasn't scared, her silence had not been the result of fear. Rather, her fierce expression had remained, brows furrowed and a frown etched across her lips whilst she glared towards Coyle. Angry within the same manner an adorable little kitten may hiss when upset, attempting to be perceived as both tough and strong: The young woman was much too cute to be taken seriously.
"You know damn well what my issue is. My issue is that you drive me God damn insane! Thats what my issue is. I just can't seem to help myself when it comes to you! Christ, (Y/N)!" Leland exclaimed, accidentally revealing his true feelings towards the young woman during a moment of blinding rage. At that point, he was actively waving his arms around within a rather expressive manner, due to his increasing agitation. "And you have the God damn nerve to rub it in my face! Talkin' 'bout me with yer little boyfriend, my own fucking son, comparing me to yer grandfather, when Im only five feet away! Michael ain't here, and suddenly, yer fuckin' life purpose is to please me?! You know damn well what you do to me, and you have the gaul to fuck me like that?!"
The young woman had remained silent, a proper response failing to tumble from her lips. Maybe it was due to her shock regarding such a confession, or possibly the result of her boiling fury. Whatever the reason may have been, it caused her silence to transform into rather demeaning, as if she was simply waiting for Coyle to just run out of steam, allowing him to scream, yell, and holler until he had properly exhausted himself. Within the same exact manner an annoyed parent might simply permit their child to throw a tantrum, until the kid had eventually exacerbated themself.
Her silence as no longer satisfying; Leland was not pleased with the young woman's lack of a response, as he had previously been. Only a few moments prior, he had been rather encouraged as a result of her muteness, simply assuming that she had finally accepted her position of inferiority, simply deciding to submit. However, now, Coyle had become rather hesitant, tense anxiety looming over his shoulders as a new possibility suddenly appeared within his mind: The young woman was not acting obedient or compliant with the usage of such silence. No. Instead, she was smug with her quietness, condescending as she viewed Leland as some sort of spoiled brat throwing a tantrum. And in all honesty, thats exactly how he had been behaving. He had absolutely nothing to complain about. Everyday, he returned home to a warm meal, a clean house, and a nice piece of ass to adore. Yet, here Coyle was, screaming at the young woman simply because she had been kind enough to do his laundry?
"Fuck! Say something! Anything! Don't just fucking look at me like that, all innocent and shit!" Coyle had declared, a vicious growl vibrating through his chest.
He had brought his hands towards his head, gripping at his own hair in an attempt to relieve the intense stress currently infiltrating his system. Similar to a mental patient upon the verge of a break down. Yet, just as quickly as he had become hysteric, Leland suddenly paused, like a theoretical switch had instantly flipped within his mind.
Slowly, a wide, and somewhat unnerving, grin had stretched across his lips, palms slipping from his scalp as he leaned towards the young woman. The intense smile plastered across his features was similar to an expression of pride, the same exact smirk he would support whenever he successfully managed to capture a wanted criminal. He felt victorious, like he had just caught the young woman red handed.
"Oh, but yer not so fucking innocent, (Y/N). I'll be honest with ya, I thought so at first, when you acted all shy and nervous around me, pretending to be smitten with a grown ass man. But Ive seen yer true colors, girl." He leaned in even closer, a snarl tearing from his throat as the smile etched across his lips only further expanded, whispering within a rather demeaning tone "You ain't no angel, yer just a fucking bitch, and you know it. Gettin' my hopes up like that, just to fuck me over. Yer a God damn tease."
However, the sensation of triumph previously infiltrating his system had swiftly been dismissed as soon as the young woman had failed to react to Coyle's special form of verbal torment. She did not cry, yell, or scream in return. Such insults and degrading names had failed to properly effect her. Instead, the young woman had remained completely silent, as if she was the least bit concerned regarding his current outburst. Like he was the emotional teenager, completely over reacting following even the smallest challenge.
Upon such a discovery, Leland had resorted to the last available option. He was desperate to hurt the young woman, determined to upset her just as she had previously offended him. He wanted her to feel the same way he did: Completely heart broken. So, he dove even deeper, relying upon his very last resort, with the full intent of hurting her.
"I wonder what Michael would think of you actin' like this, lettin' his own father think of you like this. But you wont tell him, will you? 'Cause yer a fucking slut, right? I bet ya like torturin' old men like this, huh? Didn't yer parents teach ya to respect yer elders?" Leland continued to whisper, a blatant hint of aggression laced within his tone as he practically spat within the young woman's face, determined to perceive any sort of reaction.
As some sort of reward, Coyle had been provided with a response. Just, not the type of reaction he had been previously aiming towards.
The young woman did not proceed to curl in upon herself and cry, expressing her emotional agony through a tsunami of tears. She did not become defensive as a result of his harassment, stuttering through her words as she had attempted to defend her own dignity. In fact, not even a slight hint of pain had flashed across her unfaltering vision. She may have been a woman, a young one at that, but that doesn't mean she was completely useless.
Before Coyle could even contemplate continuing his previous torment, the young woman had finally responded. Yet, not through a verbal remark or some sort of physical reaction, as he had previously expected. Rather, she swiftly guided her hand towards his face. Movements so quick and fast, Leland would have surely missed such a gesture if he had simply blinked. She had practically moved at the speed of light, reminding him of a snake swiftly attacking its prey, with the usage of a singular swipe.
She slapped him. The young woman had fucking hit him.
Her hand had seemingly transformed into a whip as she connected her splayed palm against Leland's exposed cheek, arm gaining momentum as it flew through the air. A loud and sharp smack echoing throughout the room upon impact.
As soon as her hand had properly collided with his face, a web of pain had immediately exploded beneath Coyle's flesh, an intense stinging sensation throbbing below his skin. In all honesty, it felt as if he had just been attack with some sort of wire. He wondered if the impact had somehow drawn blood, sure to leave a red hand mark imprinted upon his flesh by the next morning.
The young woman had slapped him so hard, the sheer intensity of the physical attack had caused Leland to briefly stumble backwards, falling to his ass upon the floor. He had been so incredibly shocked, least expecting such a violent reaction from the small and timid young woman, that Coyle had suddenly become unstable, tumbling onto his knees as his own hand traveled towards his face. Instinctually, he had attempted to sooth the sharp pain with the usage of his own palm pressed against the area of impact, caressing his sensitive skin with his thick thumb, in an attempt to somehow ease the quickly increasing irritation.
However, even as Coyle collapsed to the floor, a mixture of the physical intensity along with his utter shock causing his typical confidence to falter, the young woman had failed to properly react. After attacking another individual, most people would immediately become rather desperate and apologetic, repeatedly expressing their regret as they attempted to comfort their victim. But not her. No, of course not. Instead, the young woman's fierce expressing had failed to even momentarily falter. A glimmer of guilt did not flash across her features, she failed to instantly collapse onto the ground beside him, desperate to somehow amend the situation. Rather, the young woman had remained both stern and steady, glaring down towards Leland as if he was the most disappointing creature she had ever once perceived. She did not appear even the least bit remorseful.
Now, it was her turn to attack.
Whilst Leland was vulnerable, his previous fury faltering as he remained idle upon the floor, the young woman stepped forward. With the usage of a singular, lengthy stride, she had swiftly destroyed all of the available space previously situated between the two of them, looming above his cowering figure as if she was about to properly dispose of him.
In all honesty, as the young woman stood in front of Leland, an entirely emotionless expression currently plastered across her features, a rather unfamiliar emotion had suddenly appeared within Coyle's mind. It was a sensation he was not very accustomed with, a feeling that caused his gut to sink and his heart rate to swiftly increase: Fear.
Leland wondered if this is how all of his previous victims had felt. Had they also experienced this same sensation of dread before he had properly attacked them? Had his past lovers been effected by this extremely alarming emotion during their last moments of consciousness, a rather intense feeling that caused Coyle's own thoughts to suddenly falter? If so, he would certainly attempt to correct such sins through years of relentless charity. God, he could barely stand the effects such a harsh sensation had caused him to experience, his breath faltering, vision becoming dizzy, and pulse pounding within his ears. Coyle felt as if he was upon the verge of a heart attack.
That is, if he made it out of the current situation with his life. With the manner in which the young woman was currently glaring towards him, her expression void of any form of even slight remorse, such a possibility wasn't entirely confirmed.
For once within his entire life, for the first time sense he was a young child, Leland felt as if he was about to cry. The intense sensation of dread currently infiltrating his system, along with the pain actively throbbing beneath his flesh, had caused his vision to become blurry and his throat to suddenly constrict.
"What? Are you gonna cry? Is big, tough Officer Coyle about to cry? Cry then! Fucking cry!" The young woman hollered, teasing him like some sort of school yard bully. She had been so loud, the sheer volume of her voice had caused Leland to wince in response, his ears practically ringing as a result. "Jesus, you need to get a fucking grip. You think you can just come in here and treat me like shit?! All because you're a man?! I wonder what Michael would think of you acting like this, thinking of his fucking girlfriend like this! Touching his fucking girlfriend while she sleeps, you fucking pervert! But you wont tell him, will you? Because you're a selfish fucking bastard who doesn't give a damn about anyone but himself, not even his own fucking son! Did I get that right?"
The young woman had utilized his own words against him, verbally assaulting him with the exact same statement he had previously executed against her. Yet, her tone was much more condescending, tossing out various insults within a rather flawless manner. Whereas Coyle had acted entirely as a result of his own rage, the young woman had been composed enough to properly utilize her churning emotions to her own benefit. Her reprimanding wasn't futile or immature as Leland's had been. Instead, her torment had successfully managed to effect him, rewarding her with the exact result Coyle had been so desperate to obtain, within a simple matter of seconds.
He was absolutely baffled, hands trembling as he remained completely speechless. Leland was now the one cowering upon the ground like a kicked puppy, all whilst entirely silent. However, his muteness had not been the result of composure of simple patiences, as the young woman's lack of words had been. Instead, his silence was due to his overwhelming fear, deciding that it was best for him to just shut the fuck up, in order to preserve his own life. Who was the obedient little bitch now?
"You're a fucking creep, Leland! Perving on a young girl like this! You think you can dream about me, touch me, fucking jerk off to me?!" His vision instantly widened within shock, the fact that the young woman was aware of exactly what had occurred upon the other side of his bedroom door that afternoon "Yeah, Im not a fucking idiot. I heard you. And Im sorry I talked to my boyfriend. You know, the guy who's actually my age? Your own God damn son for Christ's sake! Im soooo sorry you're so insecure that you took it as a personal attack."
Coyle failed to properly argue or fight back, like he typically would have whenever anyone even dared to defy him. Instead, he simply continued to cower upon the ground, pitifully peering towards the young woman currently looming above him, similar to a sad dog after receiving a beating.
"You're a smart man, Mr. Coyle, right?" The name practically stung within his ears, echoing around his skull like a deafening gun shot. The fact that she had regarded Leland by his last name, as if their previous bond had completely vanished, had caused his heart to sink. Yet, the statement that soon followed swiftly soothed his pain, like a bag of ice pressed against a fresh bruise. "Did you ever think that maybe I wanted you to notice? Maybe you had flustered me when we first met. Maybe I did hope you would be here when Michael left. And maybe I did wear that bathing suit on purpose, waiting for hours outside, because I didn't know exactly when or if you'd come home." However, her string of confessions had failed to simply conclude there. Instead, the young woman continued, as if she had previously consumed some sort of truth serum "Maybe I wasn't asleep that first night. Maybe I had been waiting for you to come in. And maybe I did things to myself once you left that I am too ashamed to admit. Maybe I wanted to make you jealous last night. I thought you were at least mature enough to control yourself. Im not a fucking idiot, Leland. I knew exactly what I was doing. You're the idiot for thinking otherwise."
Coyle was completely shocked, but not due to the same reason as before. His surprise was no longer the result of her unexpected assertion or the fact that she had physically attacked him. Leland wasn't astounded by the reality that she had practically forced him to cower with fear, a reaction he had not experienced within a very long while. Instead, he was utterly astonished by her various confessions, secrets that he had not assumed she even possessed. The dull pain continuously throbbing from beneath the skin of his cheek was quickly forgotten as soon as such information had been successfully revealed. His rapid heart rate was no longer due to his terror. Rather, the result of his extreme excitement.
The young woman had regarded him within such a firm and stern manner, a type of directness he had failed to receive within a very long while. Typically, others were frightened by Leland, somehow unnerved by his general personality. Yet, not the young woman. No, of course not. And such factors had caused Coyle to react within a rather unfavorable manner: His pants had suddenly began to shrink around his waist.
"Now get up." She mumbled, forcefully nudging his thigh with the tip of her foot. Yet, when Leland had briefly hesitated, failing to immediately scramble from the floor, the young woman had further continued. "I said: Get the fuck up!"
As if he was attending the police academy all over again, Coyle skittered to his feet, depicting that of a loyal dog desperate to please it's master.
Once Leland was properly standing, awkwardly swaying before the young woman as if he was silently awaiting some sort of further direction, she finally continued.
"Good." She muttered, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips before she shifted towards the stove once more, as if everything that had just occurred only moments prior had instantly failed to exist (from Leland's verbal abuse, the fact that she had slapped him, and all of her confessions). Suddenly, it was just another day, like everything was completely normal and the prior interaction hadn't even occurred in the first place. "Im gonna be honest with you, Leland: Im upset. This was not at all how I wanted this to go."
Suddenly, all of her previous rage had completely disappeared. The young woman was no longer yelling or hollering at him, she had failed to resume their previous argument, and she certainly did not hit Coyle again. Instead, such fury had instantly been replaced by a rather fake form of kindness, her words buzzing with a discrete hint of anger, as if the snide statement had literally burned upon her tongue.
"This is how its gonna go: First, you're gonna apologize. You're gonna say sorry for how much of a prick you've been. Next, we'll have dinner. We will talk and chat like we always do, like this didn't even happen at all. Then, I'll clean up. You can watch me, just like you always do, and I'll act like I don't even notice. And after that, we'll watch a movie. I'll get into one of my night gowns and sit at your feet and we can share a cigarette. You're gonna caress my hair like the sweet man I know you can be, and eventually, I want you to kiss me. I don't care when or how, but that is what I expect." She stated rather firmly, as if such measures had been scrawled into stone, completely unable to alter. Each step had been listed as if it was just a simple bulletin upon a to-do list, not a decision that would certainly alter both of their lives. "That is the only way I'll forgive you."
As much as Coyle yearned to argue, to fight for dominance and successfully regain his own masculinity, he had ultimately decided against such an option. Sure, Leland was a self-centered and rather ignorant individual. However, he was smart enough to realize that opposing the young woman within that moment would surely fail to provide him with exactly what he had desired since the very beginning, the main factor that had caused him to act out in the first place: The young woman's complete attention and devoted affection.
Therefore, that is exactly what had occurred:
The two shared a meal, participating within dinner as if their previous disagreement had failed to exist entirely. The young woman inquired about his work shift and Coyle asked what she had done during his absence, until they eventually finished eating. Afterwards, Leland had ventured into the living room whilst the young woman cleaned the accumulated mess, allowing himself to peer towards her from over his shoulder, just as he had always done, and exactly as he had been instructed. All whilst the young woman pretended not to notice. Once she had finally concluded such maintenance, the young woman journeyed upstairs before ultimately returning within one of her infamous night gowns. She situated herself by his feet, now positioned between both his legs, rather than simply beside them, as Leland retrieved a cigarette. His hands trembled as he ignited the fuse, movements hesitant whilst he inhaled a few long breaths, and thoughts absolutely spiraling when he eventually bestowed the cigarette to the young woman.
Prior to the young woman's arrival, Leland wasn't exactly accustomed to ignoring his rather primal needs. He was a grown man with his own home, privacy, and personal space. Previously, whenever he had experienced any sort of arousal, Coyle would just simply correct the issue. No matter if he had been participating within an evening meal or situated within the same exact arm chair, observing a Western movie following an exhausting day of work, Leland wouldn't hesitate to simply remove his pants before successfully stroking himself to climax.
However, ever since the young woman had suddenly arrived that fateful afternoon, Coyle was no longer provided with such luxuries. Whenever his pants had suddenly become much too tight around his waist, he was unable to simply undress before promptly relieving himself, entirely due to the reality that the young woman was almost always present. Whether it was during dinner, whilst he prepared for rest, or even as Leland polished his cruiser to perfection within the driveway, she was never absent.
At that point, his dick was absolutely aching. Since the moment in which the young woman had swiftly managed to slap him directly across the face, Leland's cock had been relentlessly throbbing within the confines of his boxers, desperate for any sort of attention. A reality in which he was basically forced to ignore, without simply removing his slacks and jerking off right then and there, which obviously wasn't an option. And in all honesty, he worried that his dick might explode if gone dismissed for much longer.
After a few alternations of the cigarette, only the repetitive audio of hooves against gravel and the occasional gun shot successfully echoing throughout the silent living area, Coyle had hesitantly guided his palm towards the crown of the young woman's head, prepared to stroke her hair, just as she had previously instructed.
For a moment, Leland wondered if this was all just some sort of elaborate ruse, a covert detailed plan that had been slowly accumulating since the moment the young woman had initially arrived. it was entirely possible that Michael was currently concealed within one of the nearby storage closets, secretly peering through the breaks within the wood, prepared to discover the evidence of his own father's rather disgusting emotions towards his girlfriend. Had Michael returned much sooner than expected, simply in order to catch Leland perving upon his the young woman? This was all just too good to be true. He must have been dreaming, experiencing one of his perverted fantasies in which he fucks his own son's girlfriend.
Sure, he was a composed man, typically both precise and collected, in order to properly fool his victims. Yet, he was a man none the less. And as his palm slowly drifted towards the young woman's hair, he was aware of the reality that there was certainly no return. Even if that had been the case, if this was all just some sort of elaborate trick executed in order to successfully catch Leland with his hand buried within the cookie jar, that was a risk he was willing to take. This certainly wasn't an opportunity he was willing to forfeit. Coyle had honestly excepted the possibility of completely ruining his relationship between Michael, if it meant he would be able to perceive the sensation of the young woman's silky locks situated beneath his grasp, even for just a brief second.
However, such a notion had never properly become reality. Instead, as his thick fingers successfully collided with her soft hair, it was as if all of his previous worries and concerns had suddenly vanished, before swiftly being replaced with a mixture of both relaxation and comfort. That exact moment, the second in which her locks had been finally located beneath his grasp, had made everything that had previously occurred entirely worth it. All of his prior pain, rage, and jealousy was suddenly justifiable, only if such agony implied that he would be able to experience such a life altering occasion. Leland was prepared to make the same sacrifice over and over again, submitting himself to intense emotional distress, if it meant he would be able to touch the young woman, even if within such a simple manner.
Upon impact, Coyle was basically forced to refrain from expressing his extreme appreciation through the usage of an audible groan. The simple sensation of her form situated within his own grasp had caused a rather depraved moan to bubble within the depths of his chest. The same exact vocalization he might have utilized upon the very first gulp of a cold and refreshing beverage during a sweltering summer day.
His fingers effortlessly sailed through her locks as if the young woman had brushed her hair for hours prior, simply preparing for the possibility of such an interaction. Her head was warm beneath his touch, flesh radiating a rather enticing heat, practically begging Leland to delve even deeper into the young woman's grasp. Her skull appeared rather small from within his palm, his large hand practically engulfing the entire expanse of the top of her head. A detail in which had caused his cock to violently twitch between his legs once more. An odd reaction, but a response he had enjoyed none the less.
Leland stroked her locks within the same exact manner he might have pet a cat: He caressed the side of her head, allowing the pad of his thumb to rub against her smooth temple. He laced his fingers within the soft strands, physically forcing himself to refrain from executing a gentle tug upon her hair, simply in order to perceive her reaction. Coyle wondered if the young woman would moan or whimper as a result, somehow aroused by such unexpected cruelty? Or, would she slap him all over again? Which wasn't exactly an awful possibility either, if Leland was being honest. He brushed each stray lock away from her vision, repeatedly tucked her hair behind her ears, and properly swept each strand from her temple.
Something about the entire interaction was just so innocent. So virtuous, yet extremely depraved at the exact same time. Leland was caressing her hair within the same manner he might have pet a fuzzy little kitten actively curled upon his lap: With both tender affection and care. However, it was also just so dirty, depraved, and inappropriate as well. A rather contradicting pair of details. Coyle was unable to decipher exactly what felt so deliciously wrong about his current actions. All he was aware of was how absolutely powerful it made him feel.
And the young woman had failed to reject him; rather than suddenly jumping to her feet before swiftly scolding Leland in regards to his extremely perverted actions and ultimately exiting the confines of his house. Michael did not jump from the depths of the nearby closet and begin to yell at his father. Instead, the young woman had somewhat nuzzled into his grasp, nudging her head further against the palm of his hand, as if she desired more of his tender affection. Within the same manner a dog may physically melt into the grasp of their owners attention. As if absolutely nothing was amiss about the entire situation, like this was a completely normal interaction for a young woman to share between her own boyfriend's father, she repeatedly sucked upon the cigarette currently situated between her lips, her vision remaining properly attached to the television screen displayed before her, all whilst she willingly allowed Coyle to continuously caress her scalp.
This pattern had persisted for a few moments longer, with Leland softly stroking her silky hair and the young woman repeatedly inhaling the thick cigarette smoke, until he had eventually decided to alter the routine. Again, just as he had been previously instructed.
Suddenly, Coyle had detached his fingers from her hair, extending his hand past the young woman's head, and gesturing towards the cigarette. And, as if she was somehow hypnotized by the relaxation provided by their current interaction, the young woman had failed to hesitate. Instead, she had simply obeyed, promptly removing the cigarette from between her lips and properly locating it within his fingers. An action in which had ultimately resulted within Leland swiftly situating the cigarette within his own mouth whilst releasing a rather satisfied grumble as well.
"Come here, (Y/N)." Leland had mumbled once the cigarette was properly supported between his lips; his voice was audibly trembling as he spoke, much more breathy and quiet than he had initially intended.
Once again, the young woman had failed to hesitate. As if she had suddenly been transformed into the obedient and rather submissive little creature Coyle had become so familiar with, the young woman simply pushed herself upon her knees before eventually ascending the length of his spread legs and crawling into his lap.
In all honesty, Leland wasn't exactly aware of what he had previously expected. Maybe he had assumed she would simply lean across his slumped figure before ultimately connecting their lips, in order to provide a rather slow and appropriate pace, rather than just diving in head first. Or, he had presumed she would simply relax against the support of his legs, just as she had done previously, failing to properly embrace his entire form. But that had not been the case. Instead, the young woman had promptly crawled into his lap, lacking any form of further instructions.
The young woman had successfully managed to straddle him, one leg situated upon either side of his own, the warmth of their crotches swiftly embracing, all whilst she directly faced him. She was actively sitting upon his lap, all whilst supporting one her infamous night gowns and as he repeatedly puffed upon a cigarette. It was as if one of Leland's deepest fantasies had somehow become a reality. He had to be the luckiest man upon all of planet Earth.
She gazed silently towards Coyle, expression glazed beneath a layer of anticipation, a subtle glimmer of desire shimmering across her glossy vision, and a slightly flustered rosy hue currently radiating from her flesh. The young woman was currently observing Leland as if he possessed the entire universe within the palm of his hand, like he was the answer to all of the questions that had plagued her since birth.
Coyle slowly guided his hand towards her head, allowing himself to gently caress her plush cheek, rubbing her skin with the pad of his thumb once more. With his other palm, Leland instantly plucked the cigarette from between his lips, leaned towards his left, snubbed out the remainder of the smoke upon the nearby ash tray, before swiftly returning his attention towards the young woman located before him. Such movements had been so rapid, it appeared as though he worried that she might suddenly disappear if his focus had faltered for even a moment. Maybe this was just a simple fantasy after all, and soon enough, the young woman's presence would fizzle away entirely, revealing the reality that the entire interaction was just a dream, a rather satisfying vision his mind had conjured up after days of relentless desperation.
His cock was hard, firm, and hot from below her, possibly much stiffer than he had ever been within his entire life. The pressure of her weight properly compressed against his dick caused his length to violently twitch and throb, finally rewarded with even the slightest form of affection. If the young woman could perceive his erection from beneath her, she had certainly failed to mention such a detail.
Leland was hesitant for a moment, his movements faltering to a slow conclusion before he leisurely began to lean towards her. His motions had been much slower than he had expected. Previously, Coyle envisioned himself behaving rather frantic and desperate if he had ever gained the opportunity to successfully embrace the young woman. He had assumed he would connect his lips against her own with extreme intensity, consuming her entirely as if he was a starving man presented with his first ounce of food within days.
Maybe he was still nervous, afraid that Michael might appear at any moment in order to reprimand his father, concerned that the young woman may suddenly alter her previous decision before ultimately slapping him across the face all over again. Yet, such possibilities had failed to occur.
Instead, as their lips finally collided, it was as if the entire world had suddenly ceased to exist. All of his previous anxiety and concerns had instantly vanished, his mind becoming completely silent, to an almost alarming extent. Suddenly, the audio of the Western film currently being broadcast upon the television had become both muffled and distant, the surrounding world fading into complete darkness. All Coyle was able to perceive was the sensation of the young woman's mouth actively compressed against his own, along with her body currently situated above him.
The initial embrace was rather passionate, slow, and completely instinctual. It all just felt so right, despite the reality that the entire situation was completely fucked up.
Her lips were soft against his, plush mouth greatly contrasting the roughness of his own. His prickly stubble repeatedly stabbed at her smooth flesh, like soft silk being rubbed against textured sand paper. She tasted of both sugar and mint, a rather addicting flavor, whilst Leland supported a hint of tobacco and whisky upon his tongue. Everything about the young woman was like one big contradiction compared to exactly what Coyle had embodied: She was small, he was big. The young woman was soft whilst Leland was rough. Coyle was sour and she was sweet. The young woman was the soft edge to his hardened exterior. She was everything that he wasn't, within the absolute best way possible. Like she completed him.
However, what had once originated as both sweet and rather tender, had soon transformed into utterly depraved and absolutely desperate as soon as the young woman constricted her arms around his shoulders. She pinned her chest against his own, soft breasts compressed against his uniform covered sternum. Her fingers grazed the sensitive flesh of his neck, digits subtly intertwined within the ends of his dark hair.
The young woman eventually opened her mouth, allowing his tongue to slip past the seal of her lips like some sort of desperate invitation. She wanted more. No, she needed more from him. The young woman continuously managed to surprise Coyle, completely disregarding all of his previous assumptions over and over again. Within the same manner she had behaved so unexpectedly assertive during their previous disagreement, the young woman had once again shocked Leland by initiating a rather intense make out session, revealing the reality that she was just as desperate to intensify the entire situation, despite the fact that he had previously assumed she would desire to take things both slow and steady. She was a wild card, that was becoming increasingly obvious.
Additionally, the young woman had started to gently rock her hips against the barrier of his own, repeatedly grinding upon his aching erection, determined to initiate some sort of further passion. Although her movements were rather slow and subtle, each hump somewhat discrete and covert, as if she was much too nervous to properly commit, it was obvious that the young woman was aware of exactly what she was doing: Attempting to further excite Coyle.
And, of course, Leland had failed to object. He did not reject her obvious efforts or suddenly push her away. Instead, in return, he guided his palm towards the back of her head, properly supporting her skull as he pressed her lips even further against his own. All whilst his other hand traveled towards her waist, securing his fingers against the curve of her hip and subtly guiding each of her motions. As the young woman slowly rocked her crotch against his erection, Leland would further motive her with every slight push or tug he successfully executed against her waist, as if to silently both guide and encourage the young woman.
Coyle had begun to both pant and sweat rather soon, despite the reality that nothing even relatively intense had successfully occurred just yet. Instead, the pair were simply dry humping like two horny teens, which certainly should not have gotten him as worked up as it seemingly had. The sensation of her figure repeatedly grinding against his clothed erection caused sparks of pleasure to explode throughout his veins. Leland was panting, sweating, trembling, and occasionally releasing a rather muffled groan, as if this was the most arousing interaction he had ever once experienced.
However, the young woman wasn't entirely innocent either. She was not silent in contrast to Coyle's relentless growls, her form was not composed, lacking any sign of even a slight quiver, and sweat had not failed to properly glaze her flesh. Instead, an intense blush had infiltrated the expanse of her skin, blood practically boiling from beneath her flesh, all whilst she would release an occasional mewl or a rather rare whimper whenever the firm length of his cock had managed to successfully collide against a rather sensitive area. Soft and quiet vocalizations that Leland would consume without even the slightest hint of hesitancy, as if he was starving for any form of nutrients, including each of her desperate and rather depraved sounds.
"Im sorry I hit you." The young woman suddenly whispered against his lips, voice breathy and tone low.
Coyle was well aware of exactly where this entire ordeal was heading, especially as the fingers laced within his thick locks had started to release the occasional tug, soft and desperate yanks that he didn't exactly despise. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Leland soon discovered that he had been awaiting each yank she would execute upon his hair, savoring the satisfaction he gained from the rather delicious pain.
"Its okay. I deserved it. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that." Coyle had mumbled in return.
It was silent for a moment, their efforts persisting as the pair continued to grind, moan, and completely devour each other's lips, like two wild and feral animals, determined to procreate within the most primal manner possible. They were motivated entirely by some sort of instinctual requirement to fuck. Even a nearby, deafening explosion would fail to properly detach the two from one another within that exact moment.
"Yeah, you're right." The young woman eventually responded, as if she had finally concluded upon such a decision.
Although such a remark had not been intended as humorous by the young woman, Leland just couldn't help but laugh. Something about the manner in which she had sounded so certain regarding such a reality was rather comical. Coyle released a gruff chuckle against her lips, laughter that the young woman had greedily consumed, much too focused upon the task of properly grinding against his crotch to even consider such humor. And her unfaltering movements had swiftly caused Leland's gentle chuckle to immediately transform into a strangled groan.
Leland had been attempting to remain somewhat composed, forcefully warding off any sign of his true desperation. He yearned to appear collected, refraining from actively moaning or grunting too much. He was supposed to be nonchalant, as if this entire situation wasn't that important to him. Reasonably, he was a man after all, the individual who was supposed to appear the least bit phased or emotional. Coyle was expected to behave indifferent. He couldn't fucking moan or whimper. No, of course not. That shit was for women only.
And thats exactly how he had always behaved regarding any sort of intimate contact. With all of his previous lovers, Leland had remained almost silent, relying entirely upon subtle growls or slight grunts, rather than utilizing proper moans in order to display his own pleasure. He denied each of his previous girlfriends any sign of his own satisfaction, to keep them wanting more. He never allowed his partners to believe that they were even slightly significant to him. Appearing rather neutral would provide them with a reason to continue returning, motivated by the possibility of earning even the slightest portion of his praise. And in all honesty, his past lovers had never been anything more than a simple fuck, a method to relieve his own frustrations. Each of his previous partners had been viewed as just another notch within his belt, someone he didn't really care for, but pretended as much in order to gain what he truly desired.
Except for the young woman.
It was becoming increasingly obvious that the young woman would fail to simply surrender. She would not accept his distant behaviors, allowing him to appear both composed and detached, only further feeding into his sense of toxic masculinity. Instead, the young woman persisted, continuously grinding against his erection, applying more and more pressure with each stroke. She would subtly gasp into his mouth, nibble lightly at his lower lip, and execute the occasional tug upon his hair.
Eventually, Coyle just couldn't take it anymore. It was becoming harder and harder to fight against his instinctual response of expressing his appreciation through a muffled groan or an erratic thrust of his hips. So, he finally broke, his tough exterior suddenly crumbling, due to his accumulating desperation. She just wouldn't let up.
"God, sweetheart, I need ya so bad." Leland finally shuttered, successfully succumbing to her tactics, revealing his true desperation following the young woman's relentless torment. For once, he had given in to someone else's desires, rather than just his own.
In all honesty, Coyle felt rather foolish within that moment, an intense heat exploding beneath his flesh, a deep rosy hue radiating from his skin and revealing the unfamiliar sensation of embarrassment that had suddenly infiltrated his system. He was begging, actively fucking pleading, for even an ounce of the young woman's attention, which he had never once done before. He was accustomed to simply just taking what he desired, often the one in charge. However, he was quickly learning that his body responded within a very odd manner whenever the roles had been reversed. First the slap, and now begging? Leland was becoming basically unrecognizable.
Yet, the young woman hadn't appeared to mind. She failed to chastise or tease him in regards to his atypical begging. She did not comment upon his abnormal desperation or mention the manner in which his figure was now trembling. Instead, she simply hummed against his lips, as if to somehow express her approval. And once again, Coyle's body had betrayed him, his dick twitching in response to the slightest form of praise from the young woman's lips.
Her calm and pleased demeanor had somehow reassured Leland, causing the idea of openly expressing both his desires and satisfaction to become a lot less frightening than ever before. She made him feel comfortable.
"I like when you call me that." She whispered, her thrusts becoming more intense and precise with each grind, only driving Coyle more insane.
Her behaviors were becoming increasingly admirable. The young woman was different compared to all of his previous partners. She did not simply agree to whatever Leland had suggested, in an attempt to properly satisfy him. She failed to dismiss all of her desires before focusing entirely upon his pleasure instead. Rather, the young woman would freely express her own needs. She was both direct and assertive, openly revealing what she enjoyed. She had been brave enough to slap him, confident enough to oppose his previous anger, and courageous enough to order him around. And now, she had willingly crawled onto his lap, initiated a passionate make out session entirely upon her own accord, and even expressed her own desires, lacking any form of prior instructions.
"Ya? You like when I call ya sweetheart?" He grumbled against her lips, vision discreetly fluttering open in order to covertly observe the manner in which she had continued to attack his mouth with the usage of her own.
For a moment, the young woman had allowed her lips to venture away from his own. She traveled across the length of his face, littering soft kisses upon the flesh of his cheek, nibbling slightly upon his jawline, before eventually arriving at her desired destination: His neck. The young woman continued her ministrations upon his throat, nipping at his jugular and sucking various hickeys into his skin, as if to somehow brand him. Evidence that he would certainly be forced to conceal with the usage of an irregular top, his uniform collar much too low to successfully shield each bite mark and hickey now engraved upon the column of his neck.
All whilst Coyle silently observed her.
He gazed towards the young woman as if she was the most captivating view he had ever once perceived. He was practically hypnotized by the manner in which she would lick to sweat from his flesh, biting down upon his lower lip whenever she had created a rather dark imprint, and expressing the occasional grunt each time she connected her lips with a rather sensitive portion of his neck. This was certainly much more intriguing than any Western film he had ever observed before.
"Mhm." She responded, her voice rather soft and drowsy, sending a subtle vibration through the column of his throat.
Eventually, the young woman had successfully detached herself from his neck, a rather victorious smirk immediately inching across her lips as soon as she perceived the beautiful masterpiece she had just created upon his flesh. Bruises had already started to form, plum colored marks appearing upon his skin, a result entirely caused by the ministrations of her own mouth. Subtle teeth prints had been embedded into his flesh, occurring after she had executed a rather harsh love bite against his jugular. All whilst his crimson flesh acted as some sort of background, a vibrant hue caused by his extreme arousal. It appeared as if Leland was currently supporting some sort of necklace of both hickeys and kisses, an accessory created entirely by her own affection.
However, Leland certainly wasn't ignorant to the manner in which his figure suddenly began to yearn for her attention once more, desperate for the young woman to lean in and start to suck at his neck all over again. His hips were still grinding against her own, subtle thrusts driven entirely by his relentless arousal. His chest had been puffed, as if he was attempting to somehow connect their figures within the most discrete manner. And his neck had started to throb, like it physically ached without receiving the proper affection of the young woman's mouth.
The two were silent for a moment, quiet as they attempted to properly compose their rapid breathing.
Leland had allowed his palms to situate themselves upon the curve of her hips, thumbs gently caressing her silk covered waist. He adored the display of the young woman situated upon his lap, admiring the way in which she had gazed towards him, hair slightly aloof and eyelids heavy with arousal. All whilst their chest expanded rather dramatically with each inhale of air, the room entirely silent, besides the audio of their tandem breathing.
In return, the young woman had began to silently scrutinize Coyle, searching his features for some sort of sign, a symbol Coyle wasn't exactly certain of. Maybe she was attempting to decipher him, to discover the evidence of his secret discomfort or some sort of regret. However, when she had simply encountered the display of his lust blow pupils and rather hazy vision peering back towards her, she finally continued.
"I want you, Leland, so fucking bad. I understand if you say no, because Im your so-" She had began, rambling rather rapidly, due to her sudden anxiety.
Only moment's prior, the young woman had been suckling upon her own boyfriend's father's neck, unconsciously grinding against his lap whilst she released all of her pent up sexual frustration. The two had been practically glued together, upon the verge of morphing into one being, attracted to one another by some sort of invisible magnetic force. After continuously ignoring all of her emotions regarding Leland, the young woman had finally snapped, transforming into some sort of feral animal desperately humping his thighs. She had been behaving as if she was actively captured within some sort of trance, overwhelmed by a mixture of both desire and arousal.
However, as soon as she had successfully distanced herself, briefly pausing in order to reflect upon the current situation, her own self control had suddenly returned. Whilst the young woman gazed upon the masterpiece of hickeys, kiss marks, and bites she had just scattered across Coyle's flesh, a rather intense form of guilt had instantly crashed down upon her. As if she had somehow managed to escape from the hypnotic effects of her own primal desires, the young woman's morals had suddenly returned.
However, she was unable to successfully conclude such a concerned claim before Coyle had quickly hushed her. One of his large palms swiftly detached from her hip, flying towards her face, and immediately clasping over her mouth. Leland had physically silenced her, a rather assertive action created entirely by his own desperation, causing a surge of pleasure to instantly explode within the depths of the young woman's abdomen in response.
Such a gesture had not been executed out of anger or violence. Coyle had not connected his palm against her face within the same manner as she had previously done to him. No. Instead, it was an act of desperation. Leland was aware of the reality that as soon as she had successfully managed to even mutter Michael's name, he would be forced to instantly conclude the entire interaction. So, he had relied upon ignorance instead, deciding to simply dismiss such an important detail.
However, his physically assertion had immediately managed to reel the young woman back in all over again. With his hand currently clasped over her lips, she allowed herself to discretely inhale his thick scent, consuming the smell of motor oil and smoke actively radiating from his flesh. It was a musky scent, an intense and rather addictive smell that only a man such as Leland could successfully support. It was devastatingly masculine, and the young woman yearned for nothing more than to stick out her tongue and begin to lap as the palm of his hand.
"Shhhh, don't say it. Don't even think about saying his name, or else I might have a change in conscious." Coyle chuckled awkwardly, not exactly a genuine laugh, but more of a nervous exhale regarding the rather serious topic "I want this too, sweetheart. God, you don't even understand. I don't think I can live without knowing what ya feel like."
With that, Leland had slowly removed his palm from her face, rather apprehensive, as if he was nervous she might continue her previous rant once able to speak again. His hand trembled before her face for a few moments, prepared to clasp his palm over her lips the second she resumed her rambling. Yet, when such a reaction had failed to occur, Coyle hesitantly returned his hand to its respected location upon the curve of her hip.
At some point, between the period of time in which his palm had been situated over her lips and when he had exclaimed such information, a soft smile had managed to successfully stretch across her mouth. The young woman was grinning like an idiot, a rather adorable and genuine smile, as if such a confession was the most delightful claim she had ever once received.
However, her brief pause did not remain for long before her hands suddenly dove towards his chest, fingers traveling to his shirt as she prepared to swiftly tear it from his figure. The young woman was determined to remove his clothing as swiftly as possible, in order to commence their future actions. However, she had only managed to successfully unsecure a singular button before Lelands large palm had suddenly snatched her wrists, once again utilizing physical assertion in order to properly stop her. And the young woman certainly wasn't ignorant to the manner in which he was capable of capturing both of her dainty wrists within the confines of only one of his palms, his hand acting like a pair of restricting cuffs.
"If I'm bein' honest here, sweetness: I don't have fucking time for that. Just help me get my pants off." Coyle had huffed, his voice both thick and gravely with arousal.
As soon as she had been properly released from his grasp, the young woman had failed to object before her hands practically teleported to his slacks. She was both quick and precise with each motion, obviously frantic as she loosened his belt and desperately unzipped his trousers. However, she refrained from successfully removing his cock from the confines of his pants, allowing Coyle to assist her as well.
In return, Leland had reached beneath her skirt, entirely prepared to simply remove her underwear, in order to create easy access for their future interaction. However, as his hands disappeared beneath her dress and his fingers encountered the sensation of her bare core, folds slick with arousal and practically soaking wet, Coyle was unable to reject the guttural moan that suddenly escape from his lips.
"Jesus, sweetheart. Yer gonna be the death of me." He growled, tossing his head backwards against the edge of the arm chair, the sensation of her damp entrance against his finger tips driving him absolutely insane.
Leland allowed his hands to explore her intimacy for a few moments; his thumb lazily circled her clit, perceiving the manner in which her sensitive nub was both swollen and actively throbbing with arousal. His thick index finger would occasionally breach her entrance, failing to successfully delve farther than just half an inch, simply toying with the sensation of her tight hole repeatedly contracting around his digit with each soft intrusion. Each rather satisfying action caused the young woman to desperately grind against his palm, searching for any form of additional pleasure as she finally retrieved his cock from the confines of his boxers.
He was rather blessed within the dick department, possessing a lengthy and thick cock. His erection stood at around seven to eight inches tall, shaft the width of a soda can. His tip was certainly blunt, the perfect shape in order to successfully press against all of her most pleasurable areas. His cock was heavy within her palms, the mere width of his shaft certainly daunting. Leland would surely provide her with a rather painful, yet extremely pleasurable, stretch upon the initial insertion.
The young woman instinctually gazed towards his erection upon display, observing his member as if she was attempting to engrave the vision within her memory for later usage. Thick veins littered the soft skin, a rather impressive one spanning down the length of his shaft. The flesh was both rosy and irritated as his cock occasionally throbbed with desire, obviously extremely irritated due to the lack of proper attention. Pre cum coated his blunt head, like a glazed donut available within a coffee shop, liquid relentlessly oozing from the tip due to his overwhelming arousal. A patch of dark hair framed the base, dense and wiry locks that obviously hadn't been maintained within a long while. And for some reason, the young woman rather enjoyed such a detail (the excessive amount of hair being regarded as rather masculine).
"Ya like whatcha see, sweetheart?" Coyle had smugly inquired after a few moments of the young woman's silent scrutiny. In all honesty, he wouldn't have been surprised if she had started to drool in response to even the simple view of his cock.
As if she was hypnotized, the young woman executed a soft nod, vision practically glued to his dick within her palms as she absently licked her lips, as if his erection was similar to that of a delicious meal served upon a silver platter.
The young woman swiftly reconnected their lips as she immediately managed to position herself above his aching member, his sensitive tip accidentally colliding with her wet entrance, causing the two to release a thick moan within unison. She did not reward him with a few, simple pumps as some sort of foreplay. The young woman failed to request any form of physical preparation, such as his fingers buried beneath her skirt. Instead, she had practically mounted him, like they were a pair of deer during mating season.
With the usage of his palms currently plastered upon his waist, Leland had halted her once more, pressing softly against her hips. A small gesture in which had successfully managed to capture the young woman's attention, causing her to instantly detach their mouths once more. In all honesty, his rather abrupt stop had somewhat concerned her. Maybe Coyle had experienced a shift in conscience and now desired to alter his previous decision? Had he changed his mind?
"Do ya want me to touch ya first?" Coyle had offered, voice both low and breathy as he spoke, despite the fact that his dick was basically upon the verge of exploding if it lack any sort of affection much longer.
Leland was a selfish man, completely concerned regarding his own satisfaction, rather than anyone else's. And in all honesty, he had never once exclaimed such an offer upon his own accord before. Previously, if a woman was clawing at his clothes, basically begging for him to fuck her (just as she was doing within that exact moment), he wouldn't have waisted his time with such unimportant tasks. Typically, Coyle avoided such actions entirely, due to the reality that simply fingering a woman failed to provide him with any form of physical pleasure.
However, when in regards to the young woman, Coyle felt some sort of requirement, like he literally needed to touch her. He genuinely wanted to feel her beneath his fingers, to perceive the manner in which her body reacted to even the slightest touch, to receive each moan and whimper she executed in response to his ministrations. He yearned to circle his digits around her clit until she eventually exploded, to push his fingers inside her whilst she road out the effects of her climax, all whilst he softly stroked his own dick in tandem.
Along with the reality that Leland feared he might accidentally cum as soon as she successfully sunk down the expanse of his length. Due to how absolutely aroused he was within that exact moment, Coyle was certain that he would fail to last very long. Therefore, he had attempted to avoid such a shameful result with the usage of such an offer.
"No, no. I just want to feel you." She panted.
And who was he to deny his girl of exactly what she desired? He couldn't possibly tell her no.
Their lips instantly connected, teeth clashing with desperation as the young woman situated her entrance against his blunt time once more. There was no halting upon Leland's end this time, he did not attempt to stop the young woman as he had done previously. Instead, lacking any form of apprehension, she had instantly slipped down the expanse of his length, core engulfing the entirety of his cock with the usage of just a singular thrust. A successful connection that caused a lewd moan to escape from each of their lips, Leland's forehead collapsing against the young woman's shoulder as she trembled from above him.
She was both wet and devastatingly warm, a welcoming sensation that caused Coyle to practically choke upon the groan bubbling within his throat. The young woman was tight, almost too tight, which Leland had previously regarded as almost impossible. It felt as if she was attempting to practically tear his dick right from his body. A rather satisfying reality that caused his hips to stutter upwards, completely unable to control himself.
In return, the sensation of Coyle fully sheathed inside her, caused the young woman to release a rather sultry moan, hips gently rolling against his own, savoring the sensation of his blunt head repeatedly pressing against the deepest portion of her insides. An area in which no man had ever been able to reach before.
Slowly, with trembling thighs and quivering arms, the young woman had raised herself upon her knees, dragging her core up the length of his shaft, before instantly slamming back down against his lap. An action in which had earned a strangled moan from the pair. And she repeated this action, over, and over, and over again.
"Sh-Shit, sweetheart. If-If ya keep goin' like that, th-this is gonna be o-over before it even st-started." Coyle panted with a light chuckle, brief laughter that was soon interrupted by yet another groan as her hips harshly collided with his own once more.
Although his previous claim had been intended as some sort of warning, discreetly advising the young woman to slow down, her movements had ultimately failed to falter. She was much too focused upon the task of basically stealing his orgasm from him to even consider stopping. The young woman was determined to make him cum, to perceive the sensation of his semen filling her up entirely. She desired nothing more than to properly engrave this occasion within Coyle's memory.
Along with the reality that she was desperately chasing her own pleasure as well.
"Good." She had simply stated, detaching her mouth from his own in order to gaze towards the area in which their bodies repeatedly connected.
And just as Leland had previously claimed, he didn't last nearly as long as he had desired.
Her unfaltering pace had persisted, her movements both firm and harsh as she continuously bounced upon his erection. With the usage of her hands currently splayed upon his shoulders, the young woman successfully supported herself through each stroke. All whilst Coyle's hands remained gripped upon her waist, as if he was searching for some sort of support, or else he might float away.
Both Leland and the young woman were well aware of the fact that he was swiftly approaching his conclusion as soon as his head had lulled against the back end of the arm chair and his rapid panting became rather irregular. He was so overwhelmed with pleasure, Coyle wasn't even able to properly keep his head up.
"Fuck, (Y/N), sweetheart, Im c-close." Coyle practically whimpered, vision glancing wearily towards the display of his cock disappearing into the depths of her entrance, like if he focused for too long, he would cum right then and there.
However, the young woman's orgasm wasn't too far behind either. Every moan that Leland executed, each successfully bounce upon his cock, and the simple manner in which his hands were currently gripping her hips, as if to physically ground himself, was nudging her closer and closer to the edge. The reality that Coyle was so utterly overwhelmed by the young woman, body practically melting into the chair, thrusts becoming erratic, and not even capable of properly supporting the weight of his own head, was like the worlds biggest compliment. He was so absolutely obsessed with her, he couldn't even control himself.
"Please cum inside me. Please, please, please, please, please." The young woman frantically whispered within his ear, literally begging for him to plant his seed inside her.
And with that, Coyle had finished. Just the simple sensation of her airy voice against his skin, pleading with him to physically mark his territory, had been his breaking point.
Utilizing his palms currently plastered against her hips, Leland forced the young woman even further onto his length, successfully pressing his dick against her most sensitive area whilst holding her down. His dick repeatedly twitched and throbbed against her walls, orgasm exploding from his cock and successfully painting her insides. All whilst he repeatedly moaned her name, calling out to her like she had just saved his life.
The simple sensation of him finishing inside her, cock throbbing as warmth consumed her lower abdomen, had pushed the young woman over the edge of no return. Her orgasm instantly crashed down upon her like a ton of bricks, entrance convulsing around his length, only further intensifying each of their vocalizations. She had immediately collapsed within his lap, palms splayed across his chest, head wedged into the junction of where his shoulders encountered his neck, and hips softly rolling as she dragged out every last drop of their combined pleasure.
The two were both panting and gasping for air by the time they had concluded, bodies glazed beneath a thick layer of sweat and voices hoarse due to the extended period of time they had spent repeatedly moaning. Their figures threatened to morph into one as the young woman slumped against his chest, exposed skin sticking together as they both physically relaxed into the chair.
Coyle assisted her within the task of successfully detaching herself from his dick, utilizing his hands located upon her hips in order to properly hoist the young woman upwards. And they were both well aware of the manner in which a mixture of both of their orgasms began to drip down the expanse of her thighs as soon as his cock had been properly removed.
In all honesty, Leland had expected the young woman to instantly return to her respected couch, as if to physically distance herself from him following their rather inappropriate shared interaction. However, instead, she had simply curled into his lap, knees pulled against her chest and head resting against his lower stomach whilst she laid upon his thighs. The young woman had snuggled against his figure within the same manner a friendly cat may have rested upon his lap before swiftly drifting to sleep.
A rather fond smile etched itself across his features as Coyle observed the young woman currently situated upon his lap, his own cum actively seeping out of her. The two shared a cigarette once more as they perceived yet another Western film, all whilst Leland gently caressed her hair until they had eventually fallen asleep.
Safe to say, Coyle called out of work the following morning.
Mayoral candidate!Leland Coyle x F!Obsessed!reader
Leland’s running for mayor for the power trip, and you waltz into his life.
Tags - Obsession, Dub con/Non con, P in v sex
Car sex, Mentions of pregnancy, Unprotected sex, Sex shaming, Public sex, Vaginal fingering, Facial. Murder. Asphyxiation. Falling down the stairs
Master list
Mayoral Candidate!Coyle decides he wants to run for mayor. Why? Because he can. He’s an upstanding member of town and people listen to him, that’s why. Those close to the political circle tell him not to, because if he does just one thing to upset the balance of this small town, it’ll end in tears. Though in the end, it ain’t about winning, it’s about seeing just how many people he can sway with a shine of his teeth, a bat of his eyes and how sweet the words leave his mouth that made a woman faint once.
Yes, Mayoral Candidate!Coyle made a woman faint, a lot of the women in this town either want to stare at him, or fuck him, and he doesnt care which, both usually end the same way. An invite to their houses, or a telephone number. Of course, he’s a fresh widower, he’s hoping to use that for pity votes. But again, it ain’t about winning, just seeing how far people will go to please him for a smile.
Mayoral Candidate!Coyle notices how the waitresses at the diner always puff out their chests and how men open the door for him. It’s perfect, a life he’s used to and wants to further adapt it despite the existing comfortability he currently has.
It all goes at a logger head when he finally meets you formally for the first time.
Mayoral Candidate!Coyle first notices you at the dance room, a small shake place that opens the doors with a juke box on friday nights. He has never had an excuse to come in until tonight when an important member involved with politics encourages him to mingle with the young’ns to secure their votes. So, he goes, listening to boring stories of high school and fundraisers he doesn’t give two fucks about.
“I’d watch out for that one.” The political member says, noticing Mayoral Candidate!Coyle’s gaze at you from across the room to a table you’re serving. He explains to him that you are what people called ‘easy’ and fraternising with you at all could be political suicide. But you catch his eye anyway, staring at him like you do from across the room in that little waitress outfit.
It’s like you’re tempting him on purpose.
A wiggle of your hips to call to him out in front of all the other women here.
A call he promptly answers.
Mayoral Candidate!Coyle decides to watch you closely when the political member leaves for the night, encouraging Coyle to mingle while he stays here for another hour. You wander past and he gets a whiff of your perfume and bat of your eyelashes. So, like any man with a dick, he follows your enticing walk all the way to the back of the dance room and out the door by the dumpsters.
Classy.
He doesn’t give a fuck.
Mayoral Candidate!Coyle has you wrapped around his waist, he covers your mouth as he fucks you, balls deep and hungry. It's feverish, cheap and nasty. Practically primal; animalistic. He watches how your tits jiggle in that tight uniform and shivers at how electric this is. It’s running from the tip of his cock to the beating of his heart with arousal, dripping inside your cunt and ready to blow. He’s needed release like this for months, having to hide his need for sex anonymously after the funeral of his wife and all the shitty condolences he didn’t care for.
Totally inconvenienced.
She’s dead, there’s nothing more to it.
You and Mayoral Candidate!Coyle barely talk, it’s more of a natural phenomenon of two individuals not needing to talk to the other to know when they are close. It’s then you are called back to the dance room by an angry manager. You huff and tell him to meet you after work, to finish what you started. You don’t clean up and don’t adjust yourself to accommodate for the slickness between your legs, just smooth down your hair with a wink and leave.
Mayoral Candidate!Coyle realises that this is a bad move and how easily you let him fuck you was indicative of the night’s earlier warnings. Your pussy is like a drug to him, so addictive that he waits until closing two hours later just to have you sit on his cock in his car, steaming the windows up. There you can moan as much as you want in the abandoned parking lot, it’s isolated and the sweet sounds of your cries drive him crazy.
“Finish inside me.” You say, gripping Mayoral Candidate!Coyle’s shoulders to bounce harder in the back seats. It brings him close and his primal brain overrules his half-assed dedication in the mayoral election. A bit of pussy can drive even the most serious of men to their knees when it’s as habit-forming as yours is. And he does, biting your bottom lip as he fills you up with a huge load he’d been edging himself with all night.
You comment on how full you feel and kiss Mayoral Candidate!Coyle with fervour as though it’s the last time. Then you clamber off him and say your farewells.
It should be the only time.
Not another time with the girl the town thinks is easy.
Mayoral Candidate!Coyle knows you are, but it doesn’t defeat the object that he has you again the very next day, though this time he drags you to his house in the dead of night, wanting more space than in the car.
On the bed.
Against the wall.
On the fucking bathroom floor.
Mayoral Candidate!Coyle is pussy whipped and no one knows it. Does he love you? Fuck no. He doesn’t even like you very much, just the relief your cunt provides him. And since fucking you, he has been more prompt in his new mayoral campaign that starts in three months. To reward the positive effect you have on his goal, he releases his fluids all over you face and mouth, sometimes inside you too when you’re not ovulating and makes you scream on his fingers until you can't speak.
It all goes well until it doesn’t. Mayoral Candidate!Coyle reacts negatively to you when you reveal you are pregnant. He doesn’t believe it and demands a test, but you don’t give him one. You suddenly declare your love for him and wish to settle down as a real unmarried couple with a family. It’s during this sudden shift that it reveals how fucking crazy you actually are.
Suddenly, you are at his door every day claiming he’s neglecting his responsibilities and his roles as a father are lacking despite offering no proof of the pregnancy. Despite that, Mayoral Candidate!Coyle has no choice but to keep the whole thing quiet. A baby out of wedlock for a mayoral candidate really is political suicide.
He should have listened to the advice he was given.
In order for this all to go away, Mayoral Candidate!Coyle decides its best if the whole issue goes away while the whole town is oblivious to it. And when you threaten to tell everyone unless he acknowledges you, he invites you over to his place. You come straight over and see that he’s laid out dinner and candles. You take instantly to it, smiling and understanding how hard it must be for him to come to the realisation that he is going to be a father in several months.
There’s no baby bump, no evidence. You even drink wine.
So, in order to save face, Mayoral Candidate!Coyle invites you up to his bedroom after enduring endless chatter. He was just so consumed with your ass this whole time that he’s never realised just how much you talk. And you fucking talk alot.
Mayoral Candidate!Coyle fucks you one last time, because come on… its pussy. He’s insatiable, fucking you relentlessly until you come again and again. He keeps you quiet this time, covering your mouth and whispering artificial sweet nothings into your ear, something he’s never done. You figure this out right before he comes and struggle, begging him to stop and that the pregnancy is a lie, you never meant it to come this far. It’s too late. He easily overpowers you and pulls out, coming all over his sheets instead of inside you.
No evidence. There can’t be any evidence.
Mayoral Candidate!Coyle wraps a tie around your neck, wishing it’s his bare hands instead, but fingerprints are not the cause of death. Gravity will be. He pulls and tugs until his fists shake, telling you how fucking delusional you are, how the biggest mistake was not killing you after the first time he fucked you. Your legs kick about and you try to squeak out how much you love him, but that’s the crazy talking.
You take your last breath and go limp, watery eyes looking back at him with regret. Mayoral Candidate!Coyle doesn’t regret it one bit. He acts fast and drags your body to his stairs, throwing you down them as harshly as he can, he hears a bone snap and collects your clothes. Dressing you is the difficult part, and getting your body back over to your place is a pain in the ass too.
When Mayoral Candidate!Coyle gets there, he drops you down your stairs too and leaves through an open window, leaving the keys you bought with you in the key tray and the front door locked. It looks natural, like you were going to answer the door and fell after losing your balance.
“Poor thing slipped and fell down the stairs.” That’s what the authorities think, no one is none the wiser. Mayoral Candidate!Coyle goes about his life again as usual, dazzling the waitress staff and impressing the men they’re married to.
Life is normal again. Mayoral Candidate!Coyle wins his election and becomes the new mayor. People love him even more now and go out of their way to do everything for him, he doesn’t have to run about doing things he can't be bothered doing. But the one thing he can’t seem to run away from is you.
Mayoral Candidate!Coyle is either high, or just starts seeing your ghost everywhere. But it’s you, talking to him at night in the shadows, like you’ve cursed him. After that electoral year, he’s never been the same since.
Maybe that’s a reason that two tone colour eyed fuck takes an interest in him. A reason why he beats him in the diner, just on the off chance he mentions your name.
Been having a lot of fun playing the new outlast trials update and finally got around to making Coyle links pt. 2! I also had a really good time making these! (As always remember to be logged into Twitter/X in order to access the links. Enjoy! <3)
18+ ONLY. MINORS GTFO!
Such a good puppy for him.
“You call me Daddy, you call me God or you don't talk with your mouth full.”
I just know he's massive.
After all, who is going to take the Warden's place?
He's not shy. (Sub!Coyle)
Taking you in the back of his police cruiser. (Pre-Murkoff!Coyle)
Come sit on his lap and let him make you feel good.
Such a good fuckpig.
BONUS:
Dr. Easterman and Coyle asked you to jump and you said "How High?".
Could I possibly request something with Coyle and Fem!reagent reader. They've already got their dynamic established and she falls in line fairly easily so he's not AS physical with her, he still leaves marks, but nothing lethal. BUT, during the most recent trial when he first sees her, he notices her walking with a limp. Upon closer inspection, she's got a black eye and a busted lip. He makes a comment about how one of the ex-pops gave her that nasty shiner, but when she tells him this was done by another REAGENT, he sees red. He's the only one allowed to mark her up like that. He makes her tell him which one it is and best believe he'll hunt them down. He'll make her watch as he executes the reagent rather brutally and will expect a reward for "saving" her.
vindicta mea est
Link to AO3 ☆ Fic Masterlist ☆ Outlast Masterlist
With the other three reagents off hunting down the fuel needed to spark up the basement generators, you knew it wouldn’t be long before Coyle found you. His ability to sniff you out as soon as you stepped into his domain was impressive and you can’t help the way your chest tightens as a familiar hum of electricity and heavy boots announce his approach.
Sitting atop the jail cell bed with your back pressing against the thick stone wall, your head tilts as he turns the corner and pauses at the open bars of the cell – his shoulder reclining against the heavy metal as a low, appreciative growl slips free of his lips.
“Should’ve known I’d find you in here. Ain’t enough rehabilitation in the world to keep whores like you in line.”
“Does it count as whoring if it’s only for one man?” You ask, standing to your feet and slowly making your way across the jail cell – each step slow and deliberate as you try to avoid the worst of the aches but it’s not enough to keep the limp from your left leg.
Coyle whistles at your approach, his intelligent eyes taking in the state of your appearance. The blackened eye which is only just starting to heal, the busted lip which opens fresh every time you try to eat a meal, the cautious movements of your lower body as you try to keep your bruised legs from hurting too badly.
“You look like warmed-up shit.” Coyle comments, making a point to curl his lips in amusement. “And I don’t remember dishing out this kind of discipline recently so what the shit happened? Did the beefy woman with the drill knock some fresh sense into you? I can’t smell ash so I’m guessing it wasn’t the fire scum. So which fucko got the better of you, honey?”
Reaching him, you link your fingers through the loops of his belt, carefully avoiding the row of cigarettes, and keep your gaze close to the floor as you admire the shine of his boots for a second. The scent of leather and oil is as overpowering as ever, every smell clouded by something primal as the electricity which surrounds him creates a hum of dangerous energy.
Time had given you a little bit of comfort in his presence, but it was a comfort which hung by a thread. A thread which was easily cut by anything from a slight misspeak to Coyle just being in a shitty mood from events out with your control. Regardless, it truly had been a while since he’s raised a fist or boot against you in anger, his preference for leaving marks using other more satisfying methods undeniable as you remained submissive to his wants.
Sometimes you wonder if you remind him of a time before whatever the fuck this living hell was. He had been married before, you knew that much, and multiple times at that, so it wasn’t hard to imagine that he found establishing a dynamic which benefitted him too difficult.
“Didn’t happen in the trials,” you mutter, knowing the interrogation which is going to follow “I got these from the facility. Turns out that even here, men don’t like being told no.” Your words are quiet and factual, keeping the tremble from your burst lips.
Silence hangs heavy for a moment as Coyle puts two and two together.
“The fuck you say?”
A gloved hand rises to your neck, pushing your head high until your eyes are able to meet the dark glass of his shades, your battered appearance reflecting back at you as you feel the weight of his gaze scoring across your features.
“Another reagent did this to me. He cornered me in my room, asked me for sex and I told him no. He pressed for more and I told him to get the fuck out. Which he did,” you pause, “eventually. The pharmacist was good at giving me some painkillers to take away the worst of it while he was locked back in his own room after it had been stripped of all contraband and commissar.”
You tell the story in a quick ramble, feeling more uncomfortable with every word as Coyle remains painfully quiet, his eyes hidden away and his mouth set into a firm line.
The silence is terrifying. You have seen Coyle in many forms but each of them has been marked by the constant bark of his voice, his narcissism making his voice music to his own ears as he roared, hollered and grunted his way through his various tasks and hunts.
“He beat you like a fucking dog?”
“Yeah, but he didn’t touch m-”
“He fucked with what’s mine?”
Coyle snarls the final word with a possessive edge that, despite everything, sparks something warm within your chest. To have his favour, as twisted and deliriously agonising as it could be, was still much better than having his ire. His rage is palpable though, and his hand twitches towards his stun baton as muscle memory forces him to reach for his favourite toy.
“He’s gonna learn! Gonna learn a hard lesson in respectin’ others property when I stick this lightning up his ass and have him ride it to his grave.”
“Coyle-”
“I’ll take it back, take it back in teeth and fucking piss. Touch what’s mine, mark what’s mine, and get the fucking screws ‘til I can rip those fingernails off.”
“Hey?”
“What?” Coyle rounds on you with a hard push, twisting your body in place as your shoulders slam into the nearby wall, the force enough to pull a pained squeak from your lips.
“He’s in this trial. The tall blonde.” You confess in a rush, knowing that you were as good as signing the idiot’s death warrant with every word. “I haven’t seen him since it happened since personnel thought it was a good idea to keep us apart but today’s trials were names out a hat.”
The shift in Coyle’s attitude is terrifying, the rage almost immediately mellowing out into something infinitely more predatory and calculating as he releases his palm from your shoulder.
“Here? Now? In my fucking station?”
“Yeah, in the basement.”
A leather glove snakes around your throat and you allow it, fear making you submissive in the face of his open anger. Thankfully though, Coyle’s focus seems to be on moving your head from side to side as he catalogues the various visible injuries which litter your skin.
“Let me tell you what’s gonna happen, honey. I’m gonna find this pervert fucko then ol’ Coyle is going to spend some time showing him what happens to junkie scum. I’ll fry the cunt hairs off his pecker and make him cry for his momma.” Working himself back into a frenzy, Coyle drops his hand from your throat as he wraps it around your lower body, squeezing your ass roughly as he explains his plans.
“Then i’ll leave him in a puddle of blood, cum, and piss and bring you a special charred little somethin’ to make up for that pretty face.”
Coyle pauses, waiting for your response and you fall into line with his plans as a cruel satisfaction creeps up your spine at the thought of your attacker getting what was coming to him.
“He deserves the full force of the law.” You agree, wrapping your fingers around the knot of Coyle’s red tie and fighting off a wince as his grip on your ass tightens. “Show him what happens when someone fucks with Sergeant Leland Coyle.”
Sadistic delight lights up Coyle’s expression, his tobacco-stained teeth flashing in a wolfish grin which promises misery for someone.
“Or maybe I should drag you down there with me?” Coyle growls, pushing himself forward to trap you fully between the wall and his stocky frame as the heat of him envelops you. “Could break this fucker’s knees to keep him still and show him how a real man treats a woman.”
Choosing to ignore the irony and hypocrisy of his words, you loop an arm around his neck to balance yourself as he continues.
“Spread you wide and fuck you right there in front of him so he can see what he’s not allowed to have before I fry his insides like a fucking thanksgiving turkey. Then, I’ll have you on your knees with something hard in that pretty mouth to say thank you for such a swift response from your local sergeant.”
In no position to argue, his fury and manic glee making any refusal an easy cause for a beating, all you can do is smile and nod – feeding into the very worst of him for selfish gain.
