Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: Destroyer!Chris
Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
In an instant, Chris has your hair wadded up in his fist. He drags you across the bed, walking you like a dog as his other hand brushes down his shirt. He flicks the button of his fly free then drags his touch down the denim.
“You get me out, sugar,” he demands, “you gon’ make me do all the work? Again?”
You snivel as your eyes gleam with unspent tears, cheeks still wet with the last onslaught, “please, sir--”
“Don’t make me tell you twice,” he growls.
You gulp and your gaze flicks down to the front of his jeans. You see him bulging under the thick fabric. Your heart somersaults as you shake on your hands and knees. You’ve never been with anyone that way. Never touched them. Never been touched like he did in the kitchen.
He tugs your hair. A warning that has you lifting your hand to the top of his pants. You push the zipper down shakily and notice how he winces. You part the denim and feel along the metal teeth. You grip the elastic of his briefs and quiver.
You tug and close your eyes. You can’t look, the fabric catches and the grunts. He grabs your wrist and flings your hand away.
“Gonna rip it off,” he snarls and your peek out between slitted eyelids as he angles his briefs around himself, revealing the swollen head of his cock. He pulls them further down and you squeak at the sight of his length.
You recoil but not much as he keeps hold of you. He yanks you forward and you nearly collide with him. You slap your hand on his thigh to keep from toppling as the bed bows. He takes your hand and moves it over to his dick. You squeal as he forces your fingers around him.
“Open that pretty mouth,” he growls.
You pout and peer up at him from beneath your lashes. His eyes are dark and sinister. His tongue pokes out and swipes between his lips. You push your lower lip out and a rocky noise rises in his throat. He pulls on your again.
Your gaze sinks to his pelvis as his tip presses to your sealed lips. You resist for just a moment. He bucks and you have no choice but to open up. He dips into your mouth impatiently and groans. He thrusts again and you almost gag as he hits the back of your throat.
You squeeze him and he rumbles again. He pulls you back then urges you onto him again. He moves you up and down his length, his voice wafting out between gritty breaths. Your spit smears down his taut flesh and around your lips and cheeks. As he uses you so easily, you’re mortified.
Heat blooms in your core and your cheeks. Your tears spill over in shame as the noise of your mouth on him underlines his sultry growls. He stops you and rocks his hips instead. Saltines mingles with your spit as you huff and puff around him.
He wrenches on your as he rams his hips and buries himself down your throat. You gag and kick your feet. He brings his other hand to your head, clasping it in his hard grip, and fucks your face faster. He doesn’t let up, not even as your body constricts and you struggle not to vomit on him.
He just keeps going and going and going. The flood of tears drowns you as you gulp and gurgle around him. You cling to the top of his jeans as your body nearly tips over. He rolls into longer strokes, delving into your throat before retreating deliberate. Each thrust stirs your stomach.
He grits and rasps above you. He squeezes your skull until you think it might burst. Suddenly, he pushes your mouth off of him and keeps your head aloft. He snarls between his teeth, “finish it. Keep your mouth out and finish me, sugar.”
You stare at him and he steps closer so his tip is just before your nose. He growls and pulls a hand back to swat you. “Use your hand.”
You flinch and pump him obediently. Your eyes nearly cross as you look at his pulsing head. The abrupt spurt has your eyes snapping shut and a sickly wet heat stringing over your face. The smell of it is enough to make your stomach lurch anew.
He shudders and shakes as he moves his hips in time with your strokes, slowing as his voice drones into your ears and tickles your insides. He drops his hand from your head and clamps down on your wrist. He stops you and pulls you until your arm up until you sit on your heels.
He exhales again and cups beneath his dick with other hand. He wiggles and hums. His eyes roll back as he measures his breath. He looks at you again as he lets you go.
“Get your tits out,” he orders.
Your lashes flutter before you can acquiesce. Shakily, you pull on the bottom of your shirt and lift it up your torso. As you reveal your stomach, he groans. You reluctantly strip it away completely and sit in your plain cotton bra. His eyes settle on the swell of your chest.
“Damn, sugar, you’re sweeter than I thought,” he rasps. “Mm, go on, get me hard again.” He looks down as he pulls his hand back. “Get ‘em out. Play with them. Let me see.”
You stare at him. Your eyes meet and the dangerous gleam in them puts you to action. You reach back and unhook your bra. It falls away and you shiver. You untangle your arms and brush your fingertips up your sides.
You cup your tits and cringe. You squeeze as your nipples grow pert and he shifts his weight.
“Look at me, sugar,” he sneers. “Yeah, you look so pretty covered in me, don’t you?”
