tags & content: NSFW, (probably) dubious consent, porn without plot, sexual content, rough sex, physical assault, threats of violence, humiliation, dom/sub, sadism, choking, cigarette burns, afab reader
“I’ll be damned if I ever felt a tighter cunt than yours, sweetness.”
Coyle’s voice is like gravel in your ear, fuzzy from the constricting grasp his fingers have on your throat. It makes it hard to breathe, your windpipe pressed together just enough to make your vision spotty. You can’t feel anything other than the strain in your back and Coyle’s hips slamming into you from behind, the light headedness dulling any other senses but tingling pleasure.
Blood drips from your split lip — caused by your earlier scuffle, in his haste when he’d slammed you against the metal fence by your hair, eager to dip his hands into your panties and roughly stroke through the wetness there.
You know a bit of blood riles him up. He’d already twisted your head around when he’d took those fingers and shoved them inside of you, his tobacco coated tongue licking into your mouth, teeth grazing the wound just to make it bleed more. When you’d moaned, hips bucking to try and grind your throbbing clit against his palm, he’d dragged his tongue under your chin, collecting the blood with a groan, and shoved your face back into the fence with enough force to make your temple explode and stars creep into your vision.
You don’t know what the other Reagents are doing, where they are lingering in the grimy police station, but you’re too fucked out to care. Your eyes keep rolling to the back of your head, toes curling in your shoes the harder Coyle’s cock hits your insides.
When he leans back, finally losing the clutch on your throat, you erupt into wheezing coughs. It’s hard to catch your breath when you’re being bounced against the fence with every thrust, feeling Coyle’s hand crack against the plump of your ass.
You squeal, the sting resonating in the flesh.
“You go on an keep them whore hips movin’. Work for it,” he commands, and even though you can tell his voice is laced with a smug grin, you know it wasn’t merely a suggestion.
Your trembling fingers scramble for stronger purchase against the fence, fingers twisting into the wiry metal. He’s stopped fucking you in favour of lighting up a new cigarette, his previous one discarded the moment he found something better to do with his mouth.
A low sound escapes your lips, something akin to a whine. You can’t tell yourself, rocking your hips back against his cock as he languidly watches behind the black tinted sunglasses.
The pit in your stomach thrums, trying to find any semblance of rhythm that matched his own.
Your fingers dig harder into the metal until they go white, thighs already aching from exertion.
Coyle doesn’t seem to care, rough hand squeezing your ass, roaming over the flesh as he puffs aggressively at his newly lit cig.
“Good lord,” he growls, palm smacking with enough force to leave a bruise. He groans at the feeling of you tightening around his cock, lips twitching into a deeper smirk. “Some fine fuckin’ work, honey.”
Just as your hips stutter, panting through the exhaustion, he finally ruts back into you harder. His free hand snakes around, closing around your jaw, forcing your head back until you let out a pained squeak. He shoves two fingers into your mouth, rubbing intrusively over your tongue.
Your lips part, moaning around them, his beard scratching against the nape of your nape as he pants against the skin, the heat of the cig making you wince.
His hips are slamming so hard into yours it’s jarring, barely able to catch a breath as his fingers continue to plunge mercilessly across your tongue.
“W-Wait,” you can barely squeak out, but that just earns you an even harder thrust that steals the air from your lungs. Coyle stuffs his fingers to the back of your throat, and you feel your eyes stinging with new tears.
“You got no fuckin’ manners or what?” Coyle growls, fucking into you again with enough force to rattle the fence. “Ain’t nobody teach you not to talk with your mouth full?”
A muffled apology around his fingers barely escapes you. You can only focus on his cock driving in and out of you, plunging through your walls like jelly; his fingers stroke patterns along your tongue, saliva pooling along your lips. When he removes them, he twists your head towards his, sealing his rough lips over yours.
Smoke floods down your throat. It’s bitter and acidic, burning the inside of your mouth like fire.
His teeth sink into the flesh of your bottom lip to reopen the wound along the way, leaving you coughing and spluttering and gasping for breath when he pulls away. His hand creeps from your jaw to your face, fingers spreading a mix of saliva and blood around your mouth until you look like a humiliating mess.
“That’s right, sweetness,” he murmurs, leaning back to press your face back into the fence. “Bet you ain’t never been fucked by a real man before, huh? Been saving this pussy for a man of the law? Don’t you worry, I’ll keep fuckin’ you good.”
Your body bounces against the fence, the metal clanking, and you feel your orgasm blossom. Coyle’s hips slam once, then twice, and you can feel his warmth spill into you, your pussy clenching hard around his cock as your own climax slams into you.
Your head rocks forward, whining, the apex of your thighs giving an involuntary shake, cunt quivering from the aftershocks.
You pant, still gasping for breath, saliva and blood smeared around your mouth.
“Fuckin’ whore,” Coyle sneers, pressing the hot blunt of his cigarette into your spine, just above the cleft of your ass. You give a pained cry, forehead hitting the fence, a few extra tears leaking down your face. You can feel his thumb tracing your folds, right where his cock meets, a wry chuckle rumbling in his throat.
“But I don’t mind bein’ the one to teach you to respect the law.”
He shoves you off him, and your knees instantly buckle, hitting the floor with a thud. You bite back a whimper, swallowing it with the taste of ash. Through your hair, you glance up at him, as if expecting some sort of blow or other unsavoury favour.
But Coyle just loops his belt back, flashing his teeth. “I say you been rehabilitated, sweetness.”
His fantasies were always perverted, tainted with gore and filth. They were disgusting. Undignified and uncouth. Brimming with mindless violence for the sake of violence. He's never really felt bad about it. He still doesn't. He has no reason to. There's nothing wrong with a man wanting to have a little fun in any way he can manage—and if violence is needed, then he shall indulge.
His lovely, ol' Ma was a sinner, and he never claimed to fall far from the tree where it counts. Crazy bitch left her mark in ways he couldn't shake.
Which is why even his sexual fantasies are gruesome. Not always violent, but rough.
So when you wriggle your way in Coyle's mind's eye, it's easy to force you where he wants ya. You're a good reagent. You accomplish all of your tasks. You strive for perfection. You avoid Coyle like the plague. There's only been a few times where he's gotten to discipline you, but he could sniff it on you that you need it. You need a firm hand to guide you, to show you how to be good.
You want someone to make you obey. Coyle could whip you into shape in five minutes.
You're nothing special. A dime a dozen visually. He's met hookers prettier than you, fucked them too. There's just something about you. Something provocative and irresistible. Inborn temptation.
You're fuckable. Squeezeable. You look like something he could wring the life out of. You look like you need to be hurt. Like you're made for it.
By your efficiency alone, Coyle can tell you're more than likely are one of that man's favorites. One of his How Fars, or whatever the fuck he calls them.
Palming himself through his pants, the fantasies continues. It'd be hard to shoot you down. You're difficult to chase. You utilize distractions when you can. You're not clumsy. You're a quick thinker, but if he could just catch you off guard, he could get you. 'Cause you're not perfect, he's seen you stumble. Your foot catching on something, or one of those leper's trip wires brings you down.
It's satisfying to watch you fall. To bear witness to your startled noises and the sibilant whispers that exit you. Accidentally most of the time, people aren't good at containing their surprised. Not even you.
He's rubbing himself so hard it hurts. His palm is chafing, stinging. There's so much blood in his dick, his head is fuzzy. All of it flowing towards his cock. He squeezes it a bit to curb the edge.
Coyle wouldn't need that though. It's too easy. He could trip you himself. A well placed foot when you're rushing past, or he could simply kick you down, forcing you on your back, belly-up and vulnerable. You wouldn't know what hit you. The realization would be molasses slow. Fear plastered all over that pretty face. That dumb terrified look that everyone in your position makes. Your eyes glossy and dumb like an animal, like you've been caught in a snare.
You'd attempt to beg for your life, but he'd cut you short, saving you breath. He taps his prod on his shoulder as he tuts, drawling out real slow, "your kind ain't allowed to stand front of me, honey. How 'bout I show you how one should behave during an arrest?"
By this point, his hand made its way down his pants, massaging his half-hard cock. Already this hard just from concept of it.
You wouldn't know what to do with yourself. That innate fawn response is bound to kick in before you make the proper maneuver to scramble away. He'd stop you easily, point his prod at you with another kick to the chest. He's heard you mutter curses, but you wouldn't be able to stifle your winded groan. Peering up at him from your place on your elbows, legs bent and your legs open wide.
Threatening you real mean to get you scared enough to comply. Enough fear to have you frozen in place, wishing on stars that if you listen well then he'll let you live.
All splayed out like a freshly born calf, knees awkward and knobby. He'd bring his foot down on your crotch as hard as he possibly can. You'd cry out, legs kicking. He'd dig his heel in, allowing the edge to bite into you. Your face would be all screwed up, crinkled like a piece of gum wrapper. When he's had enough of that, he'd kick you around. One to the gut to make you sputter, spit flying out and spilling down your chin. Another to side and you'd sob. A breathy, deep gasp.
A few more to have you crying.
He tugs himself out of his underwear, spits in his hand for lube. He begins to pump.
You're gorgeous, but you'd look better like that. Soaked in sweat and shaking, fear oozing out of you. Agony visible on your face. Might even jump-start you with a little shock. Add some pretty holes to your thighs or your stomach.
Then, he'd get all up and personal with you. He'd lug your pants down and off your legs. Wrestling with you all the while if you fight him, and some more as he flips you onto your stomach. Spits on your hole to be crude, and spears you on it in one swift thrust.
You'd be so sweet to him. Wail and heave just like the you're supposed to. No guidance needed. He grits his teeth, really works himself. He matches the pace he's fucking you in head. Hard and face. You'd leave pretty streaks on his dick, painting him in your blood. You'd scream at first. When the pain is sharp and needling. When you're convinced that you're going to rip in half. He'd break you in, so that you'd be molded into the shape of his cock.
Designed for him. A cum dump of his own making.
You'd probably try to get up, but he'd put a hand between your shoulder blade. Use his other hand to prop up your hip and turn your back into an arch. He'd shift to setting his hand on your head, fisting your hair and grinding your cheek into the ground. Staining you with grime and whatever fluids are incubating on the prison floor.
You'd keep trying to scuttle away, but his grip will keep you in place. It'll steady you through the thrust will rattle your brain, and it'll there to ground you when you're out of it. Panting so hard, your chest is barely moving and your lungs ache.
He wonders how much you'd beg him to stop. If you'd pathetically mumble it, or you'd frantically beg. It changes. Sometimes it's all of them. Sometimes, it's one or the other. Some people don't ask him to stop, but they want him to be gentle.
It differs from person to person. But he'd like to find out what type you are, and he learns best with hands on experience.
He cums when you fall limp, because you will. There's no if only when. They all fall limp eventually. They sag like rag-dolls, relying on him to carry them. You'll be lying there, taking it while tiny hics are fucked out of you. He cums in real life too. With a hearty groan and his hip dipping forward, chin grazing his chest. Cum splatters onto floor, a drop gets on one of his boots.
Summary: You have known Leland for a long, long time. Since you were neighbours, you kind of were stuck together. In this small town, you only had each other. After your father’s death, you are forced to leave and move in with your aunt.
Years later, you return to Blackwell with your husband and children. It wasn’t too surprising to have your husband and Leland work together, since both are police officers, but you are surprised to see that his affection for you has never faded.
Tags: Tags: Canon Divergence. Pre-Murkoff Era. Obsessive and Possessive behaviour on Coyle’s side. Canon Typical Warnings Apply (Violence, Content). Animal Cruelty and Death. Coyle is Coyle. Coyle and Reader are both unwell and not good people. Suicidal ideation. Implied domestic violence. Kissing.
———
You watched the bug struggle to get back on its back. Whenever it would turn around, you just knocked it back onto its back. This was getting boring. You started to slowly pull off the bug’s legs, one by one. Until, finally, you killed it. You dropped the dead body into the trash.
Your tea was starting to get cold, so you quickly drank the rest of it. Sleep kept avoiding you, which is why you gave up on trying. Your husband was working a night shift. Nothing exciting ever happens in Blackwell, so he was probably trying to pick up—
The door handle of your back door by the kitchen was jiggling. Your breath hitched, and damn, of course, the one break in a year you get has to happen to you. You moved quickly—and your husband made fun of you for getting guns—getting the shotgun out from the locked closet in the hallway.
You had the barrel pointed at the door, as it slowly opened just to reveal—
“Tell me, Leland, why I shouldn’t shoot you?” You sighed, putting the gun aside.
Leland didn’t even bother apologizing for breaking in. He held out a bottle of self-made moonshine, and his other hand fished out a pack of cigarettes from his leather jacket. “I come bearin’ gifts, honey.”
“…Let’s go sit outside.” You nodded towards your garden furniture, which Leland was already familiar with. Damn, now you have to get your jacket from the hallway. “I will grab my jacket and shoes real quick.” Turning around, you went to get dressed.
Walking back into the kitchen, you saw Leland rummaging through your cupboards. He got out some glasses, and when he noticed you coming back, he looked you all over. “Why don’t you dress sexy when ya greet me?” All you could do was deadpan at the man. “Damn, don’t look at me like that. Unless you want me to get turned on.”
You rolled your eyes and pressed your hand between Leland’s shoulder blades to get him outside. “Please, move. Let’s drink ‘n smoke.” You hurriedly added, “Outside.”
While Leland moved, he let his back bend backwards so he could look at you. “Why we always gotta meet outside, honey? You ashamed of me?”
“Very.” You closed the door behind you two.
“This affair can’t work if ya don’t let me inside. Preferably into the bedroom.” Leland set down the shot glasses, bottle, and pack of cigarettes on the table.
A soft laugh left your lips. “Should’ve picked a better woman.” You sat down with Leland.
Leland scoffed at your words. “Yer the best there is.” His big hands reached for the cigarettes, pulling two out and giving one to you. You watched as he fished out his lighter and lit up his cigarette. The warm light illuminated his rugged, handsome face.
To force yourself to look away, you put the cigarette into your mouth. You thought Leland would give you the lighter, which you held out your hand for. He leaned into your space, grasping the back of your neck in his hand, and he pressed the tip of his burning cigarette to your own.
Leland’s fingers brushed over your skin, and you could feel yourself grow flustered. His eyes were staring into you, trying to gauge your reaction. Once your own cigarette started burning, you were quick to pull away. Leland wouldn’t stop looking at you. To calm yourself, you inhaled the smoke, exhaling through your nose.
You weren’t surprised when Leland started to pull your attention back to him. He never really liked it when you paid attention to something else; he needed your eyes on him. Leland unscrewed the bottle, filling up both shot glasses. “Drink up, sweetheart.”
Before you downed the thing, you smelled it. Ah, yes, the smell of pure alcohol. How you have missed it. “…Did you put anything in the bottle?”
Leland already threw his head back to drink his shot, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Oh, lawd. No, I didn’t.” He blinked, swearing under his breath. “That is a damn good idea, though. I will have to remember that.”
You side-eyed Leland before drinking your own drink. You couldn’t help but cough; the moonshine burned your throat, settling in your stomach like lava. Leland laughed at the face you made.
“Oh, ya growin’ soft on me, baby?” Leland was quick to refill your glasses. “That’s what the city life will do ta ya.”
“Shut up.” You grumbled. “You got any children?” Slowly, you have been trying to gather information on Leland, without actually talking to the man. You haven’t been that successful because you were socially awkward and didn’t know how to subtly bring up Leland without sounding obsessed.
“Why? You offerin’?” He looked you up and down, practically undressing you with his eyes.
“Can’t. I am already pregnant.” You whispered into the night, as if you were confessing.
Leland’s face fell, the cigarette dropping from his mouth and landing on his pants, leaving a small burn mark. You could clearly see him scramble for words, anger clear on his face.
Before he could even say something, you interrupted him with a laugh. “I am messing with you. Your face is priceless.” You covered your mouth as you giggled.
Leland’s tense body relaxed as he exhaled a stressed breath. “God damn it, woman. You are so not funny, leave the jokin’ to the men.” He shifted around, picking up his cigarette. “You owe me a smoke.” Then, he smashed the dirty cigarette into the ashtray.
You were still laughing while Leland was glaring at you. “Sorry.”
“You are so not fuckin’ sorry.” Leland’s finger drummed on the table, clearly unhappy with you. “Yer lucky, if you was my wife, I would beat some sense into ya.” He lit up a new cigarette.
You draped yourself over the table, stretching your arm over the wood and laying your head down on it. “You can hit me.” With a smile, you blinked your eyes at Leland, begging for his twisted affection.
Leland raised his eyebrow at you. “You harlot want me to deface another man’s property?” He raised his hand and then made it seem like he was going to actually slap you. You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach; you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or arousal.
His hand stopped right before impact, making you pout in disappointment. Leland was fast, making it hard for your brain to catch up. He grasped your jacket collar in his hand and pulled you towards him. You pressed your lips together to keep your cigarette from falling.
“Just ‘cause I like ya don’t mean I won’t give you that firm and disciplin’ hand yer clearly in needin’ of.” Leland’s storm cloud eyes were piercing your own eyes. “It’s clear that yer starved for some touchin’.”
He let go of your jacket, and you brushed your hands over your wrinkled jacket. “You sure you aren’t projecting on me because you are one of these underfucked husbands—”
The slap Leland delivered to your cheek left your ears ringing, making your head snap towards the house. You pressed your hand against your stinging cheek and looked back at Leland, who drank another shot.
“You still hit like a girl.” Before he could punish you, you quickly jumped out of your chair.
Leland scowled at you, standing up from his seat. “C’mere. It won’t hurt as much if you jus’ take the spankin’.”
“Boy, stay on your side of the table.” You held up your finger to him, as if that could stop him.
He planted both of his palms onto the top of the table, narrowing his eyes at you. The only thing that was keeping him from yelling was the sleeping neighbours. “Your disrespect is hurtin’ mah feelings.”
You rolled your eyes at him. As if that man has any feelings. “You know what hurt my feelings? When you didn’t answer any of my letters.”
Leland raised his voice in frustration, “That bitch threw all of ‘em out! Together with the goddamn address you left me. The fuck was I supposed to do?”
You didn’t realise how much the break of your friendship bothered you, until you found out Leland didn’t secretly hate you and was glad to get rid of you. “Oh.” All you could do was shift on your tired feet.
Behind you, you could hear rustling coming from the garden. You snapped your head around, squinting your eyes to try to catch that damn rabbit in the act. It has been burrowing in your garden, eating at your plants, and ruining the ground.
“You still paranoid?” Leland asked, as if he were any better.
“It is mocking me.” You whispered to Leland.
“Who?” He looked around in confusion.
“The rabbit!” You widely gestured towards its burrow. “It is laughing at me! It got into my home and is trying to replace me—to be me.”
His eyes flickered to where you were pointing, and he scratched his head. “Shoot it. Ya got a gun.”
You took in deep breaths to try and calm yourself down. “I will.” With a final sigh, you shoved your cold hands into your jacket pockets. “By the way, did you kill the neighbour’s dog?” It went missing after Leland climbed the fence, and while the neighbour’s children were claiming that it just ran off, you knew better. Most living things do not survive an encounter with Leland.
Leland smiled at you, and that was enough of an answer for you.
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
You carefully unrolled the hair curler from your hair strand. Leland Coyle has been promoted to sergeant, and there will be a dinner party to celebrate. You weren’t too excited; you weren’t a fan of going out, but spouses’ attendance was mandatory. Or, at least, your husband can’t be the only guy without his wife there. He likes to keep up a certain image.
While you usually wear your hair down, for this party, you decided to put it up for once. You made sure to pin your hair up with the bobby pins. Once you have finished styling your hair, you spray hairspray over your head to secure everything.
Adam was buttoning up his shirt, throwing a glance at your already dressed figure. “Looking good, doll.”
“Doll?” You turned to your husband to raise an eyebrow at him. “Where did you pick that up from?”
He seemed really proud of himself when he said, “The boys. I am really getting into that inner circle.”
“You Klan now?” You couldn’t help but wonder. Leland was heavily involved since that day in front of the library. The cop easily recruited him; Leland had no problem with violence and liked nothing more than to feel superior to other people.
This town was never able to project its opinions and beliefs about people onto you. You have never cared much for someone’s skin colour, their sexuality, or religion. You knew that everyone was rotten deep down in their core. For some, like Leland and you, you simply were more rotten than others.
Your husband spluttered around. “Just because a group of men in the south like to get together to protect their community—oh my God, they are, aren’t they?” Then he lowered his voice, as if he were saying a bad word. “They are Klan.”
You turned back to your mirror, applying your bullet lipstick. “I told you that this was a sundown town before we moved here? Why did you think I was so surprised you wanted to flee here?”
“I thought you were kidding.” He rubbed his forehead.
You looked into the mirror to glare at him through the reflection. “In nearly 13 years of marriage, have I ever made a joke? Or laughed?”
“No, but you could start,” Adam grumbled unhappily. “You know where my tie is?”
“Try my thieving son’s closet.” You rubbed your lips together to properly mix the pigments.
“Our criminal son.” He corrected, leaving your bedroom.
You rolled your eyes. The children can barely stand him these days; they have always been more yours than his. You glanced at the clock and realised it was time to go. Your daughter will babysit your son, which just means sending him to bed at an appropriate time. You already knew they were going to eat all of the snacks and stay up waaaay too late.
─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───
There was a transparent wall between you and the other wives. You could feel the inherent disconnect between you and other people. Usually, it does not bother, but when you watch them all chat and joke, it makes you yearn for something that is not in the cards for you.
You pressed the wine glass to your lips, so you could drop your forced smile. The story was not funny in your opinion. Her husband and how when she had their sixth child, she had to prep everything before giving birth. Oh, isn’t it silly, how he could not use a stove?
Tipping the glass back, you drank your wine. Finally, dinner would be getting started. How typical for the women to help in the kitchen, bringing out the dishes while the men were settled in the garage, cooing over the host’s new car.
Leland keeps trying to figure out what you see in your husband. The guy does not read; his jokes and comments were superficial at most. You might be simply superficial, because outside of his looks, he has nothing going for him. Well, that is if you are into tall, muscular men with blond hair and brown eyes. If you knew what was good, you would be into black hair and grey eyes with perfectly average height.
James, the host and boy who once dropped love letters into your locker, smiled. Your name tumbled from his lips in a hurry, like he could not believe you were truly back. “I—we never thought she’d get married to someone el—” he stops himself, glancing at Leland. “Well, isn’t she cold?”
“What can I say? I have always been a cat person.” Adam laughed, rubbing his neck. “Besides, the reward of getting a pussy to purr is indescribable.”
The men laughed while Leland took huge gulps of his beer. Once he set the can down, he had to focus on not crushing the metal in his grip. The talk continued, revolving around you. Mostly about your tendencies to be quiet and dismissive.
“She just don’t like most people.” Leland shrugged his shoulders with a smile, “Nothin’ wrong with an anti-social woman.”
“You all got her all wrong.” Adam defended you. Leland’s eye twitched in irritation. “She is shy. If you know how to look for it, you will see it. Trust me.” He turned to Leland, “I am surprised, though, you didn’t realise it. Here I thought her childhood friend would know more than me.”
Before Leland could respond, there was a knock at the garage door, and it opened. The hostess announced that dinner was ready and to get to the table. Leland knocked shoulders with the other men when he made his way to the dining room.
As you set down the bowl of salad, you listened to the women talk. You could jump in, say something funny, something relatable. And you wanted to, you wanted to speak so so badly, talk more than you did. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your fingers danced over your throat as you felt the familiar sensation of you clamping down.
You heard footsteps and turned around to see the men return. Against your will, you could feel yourself search for Leland. He must’ve seen your attempt at joining in the conversation, and he looked downright unhappy. With a scowl, he stomped to his seat. Finally, you could sit down where your name card was placed.
Adam sat down on your right side, wrapping his arm around you and pressing a kiss against your temple. He mumbled into your ear, “You are doing well.”
You hooked your finger into Adam’s collar to tug him down so you could whisper back to him, “I wanna go home.” When you let go of him, you made sure to give him your best pleading eyes.
Your husband chuckled and then shook his head. You had to hold yourself back from groaning dramatically. When his hand landed on your thigh, you were quick to push it off.
Leland and his wife sat across from you. You have been wondering which one he married. She looked pretty and young. Irene might have been her name; you weren’t too sure. She seemed skittish. If a pin drops you were sure she was going to bolt.
She wears her hair down, styled in a fashion similar to yours. You were glad you picked to wear an older—but rarely worn— dress, because the dress she was wearing was one you bought the other day from the boutique downtown. How lucky you didn’t match.
This is the fifth time she has been brushing over her dress, getting rid of imaginary wrinkles. Leland’s hand snapped around her wrist, and all he did was stare at her. Irene shrank into herself, trying to appear smaller. A soft ‘I am sorry’ slipped past her lips, which wore your everyday lipstick shade.
You could hear a fork clink against glass, making you turn your head. “A toast! To Leland! Nobody deserved this promotion more than him. He is a true pillar of the community. God bless you, my friend. Amen.”
Amen! Everyone at the table cheered. Before you could fully get into eating, you had to suffer through a prayer. Finally, you could start eating. To avoid dinner conversation, you made sure your mouth was always full of food. When someone talked to you, you would simply defer to your husband, who gladly talks for you.
You instructed your daughter to call you if you don’t get home after a certain time. She would act sick and say you needed to come home. As you kept glancing at the clock, you realised how long it would take for her to do so.
Something touched your calf, and you had to hold back a scream of surprise. Instead, you furrowed your brows. You wanted to flip the tablecloth up to see what it was, but when you saw Leland’s smile, you knew that it was him.
You deadpanned at him, but his smile just grew wider. His foot traveled up, brushing against your knee. Once it started to creep up your thigh, you attempted to shove it off. He didn’t stay away for long, trying to play footsies with you.
Thankfully, the dinner part was over, and it was now time to mingle. You were quick to grab your jacket and slip out into the garden. In your pockets, you looked around for your cigarettes and lighter. You were sooo happy to be alone and get to smoke.
Just as you lit up the cigarette, Leland stepped into the garden. He was alone. Without even asking nicely, he held out his hand to demand a smoke from you. You obliged, handing him the one in your mouth.
You watched as his lips wrapped around your lipstick mark. You felt yourself grow flustered at the indirect kiss. As if you haven’t shared a real kiss before. You wonder if he is still all tongue and teeth.
Neither of you spoke, passing the cigarette back and forth. Leland finally decided to break the silence. “Do I know you?”
You tilted your head, “You know me enough to dress your wife up like me.”
That made him laugh. “Don’t worry, honey, nothing beats the real deal.” He passed the cigarette back to you.
“Hm.” You breathed in smoke, exhaling it into the cold air. “You know me.” Even if you wished he didn’t.
When Leland looks at you, he smiles. There was a wall between you, but unlike other people, Leland pressed his palm against it to be as close as possible to you. He would fog up the glass with his breath and draw a heart, making you feel nauseous at being seen.
“Even after all these years?” He practically purred, already knowing the answer. You just turned your face away from him, stepping back into the house. It was time to mingle. You hope your daughter is getting your telephatical message to call you.
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The rifle in your hand felt heavy. You have been camping out in the garden for an embarrassing long time now. Whenever you considered giving up on your hunt for the rabbit, you could see the earth move as it continued its burrowing.
You won’t let yourself get outplayed by a vermin like that. Finally, you could see it start to peek its little head out. Sniffing the air, looking for predators. When it thought itself to be safe, it started to slowly hop out.
The rabbit started to come your way. Before it could see you, you moved the rifle in your hands, tightly grasping the barrel as you proceeded to slam the butt into the little body. It made a horrible screeching sound as it slammed into the white picket fence.
You wondered if you should just put it out of its misery. Maybe you can skin it and put its body on display in your garden, a warning for any other vermin who might want to make themselves at home.
With a thoughtful hum, you pressed the muzzle to its stomach, having it flipped on its back. Your finger was on the safety; if you flip, you will be ready to shoot. Torture, no torture. You imagine what Leland would choose, and you think the right thing would be to do the opposite of that. A disappointed sigh left your lips as you disengaged the safety, ready to put the thing out of its misery.
“What are you doing?!” Your husband practically yelled at you.
His voice surprised you enough to ease up your grip, making the rabbit slip away from you. All you could do was direct your anger and frustration towards Adam, who looked happy to see the rabbit get away.
“I was just about to kill it!” You raised your voice at him.
He frowned, “Don’t kill her—”
“Her?! Are you stupid?” You couldn’t help but hiss out. “Of course, you would sympathise with an overgrown rat.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Adam narrowed his eyes at you.
“You know exactly what I mean.” You wondered what would happen if you pointed your gun at him, if you said it was a terrible accident. Would you go to jail? Or could you get away with killing him?
He clenched his hands into fists. “You need to get over it.” Then, he turned back to the house and left.
Adam was never one for fighting. He rarely raised his voice; he never would hit anyone, especially not someone in his family. You are not surprised that you do not respect him, he was not a real man. Against your will, you thought back to Leland, the stinging slap he delivered to your cheek. You wish your husband would hit you, so you would feel at least something.
You raised the gun up, pointing it at the retreating figure of your husband. As your fingers brushed over the trigger, you thought back to your wedding vows of how you promised to care and respect this man.
A sound made you readjust your gun, and finally, you shot the rabbit right into its eye.
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Leland visited you whenever your husband had a night shift. It has gotten to a point where you get disappointed when he does not visit you. At least you see Leland weekly at church. After the service, he liked to chat with you.
“I don’t care that y’all—” You quickly stop yourself and look around at all the people who could hear you. Carefully, you lowered your voice, so only those close to you could hear. “That y’all think that the Sunday teacher is stupid. You need to listen to her.”
Both of your children looked at you with big eyes. “But mom—” Your daughter tried, but you quickly interrupted her.
“No buts!” You were getting fed up with them. To your dismay, you could hear Leland snicker. “What are you laughing at?”
Leland—the adult!—kept chuckling as he said. “You said butts.”
To your annoyance, both of your children dissolved in a fit of giggles now. “Okay, I need all three of you to get out of my face.” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You two, go to the car.” With a gentle shove, you made both of your children walk away. “And you, get to your wife or something.”
“I like it here better.” Leland wasn’t as easy to shake off. He walked after you when you made your way to the parking lot.
The air outside was nice and fresh. Finally, winter has come to an end. Everything was starting to bloom, and you could feel how your spirit lifted with the sun shining down on you.
Your children were both hanging onto the car door handle, leaning back on their heels. “Stop that, before you break the damn car.” You shooed them off.
Aurelia sighed, “When can we move back to the city? It is over, right?”
You frowned at your daughter, feeling bad that you had to rip both of them away from the home they knew. “We live here now, sweetheart.” When you fished out your keys from your purse, you unlocked the car.
Aurelia huffed when she roughly opened the door, “I hate dad! It is all his fault!” With that, she scrambled inside and slammed the door shut behind her.
Lee also seemed annoyed as he got into the car; you could hear him whisper. “Stupid hillbilly town.”
You rubbed your forehead in despair. Yes, stupid hillbilly town with the local psycho right by your side.
“What he do?” The curiosity was practically dripping off of Leland’s voice.
One thing you did not miss about small towns like these was how everyone was just so damn nosy. Everyone is in your business, until it comes to children being touched, then suddenly nobody has seen anything. They all knew what you and Leland went through, and nobody helped you. In the end, you only had each other.
You wrapped your hand around the door handle, “What? You think I came back because I missed you that badly? Only in your dreams.” With that, you pulled the door open and got into your car, waving goodbye to Leland.
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With the death of the rabbit, you hoped the feeling of being watched would go away. Sadly, it did not. Something much bigger was lurking in the garden.
You brushed it off as Leland. He obviously has been watching you. You found some comfort in it. Leland was a danger, but you knew him. You knew what was coming, just as you did when he forced you onto the ground in the barn all these years ago.
In your own twisted way, you chased after the feeling of being forced. You missed the fear, the taste of sweat in the air, the loss of control, to be so deeply desired that all morals get tossed aside. All you could do was shove your face into your pillow, trying to fall asleep. It did not work.
Carefully, you slipped out of bed. While your husband and children were sleeping, you put on your shoes and jacket and started walking. The Coyle house was only a few blocks away.
You stood before the building, trying to see if there were any lights on. The lawn was neatly trimmed, and you could see that someone had planted pretty flowers. You made sure not to disturb any of the plants when you made your way to the backyard.
Since you did not see any lights on, maybe you could figure out where Leland’s bedroom window is and start throwing rocks. Maybe you were making a mistake. Would he even like for you to turn up? What about his wife? Your steps faltered, and you were close to turning back home.
Until you could see light come from behind the house. You took in a deep breath and made your way to Leland. The door of the shed was open, and he was obviously tinkering with something.
“What you up to?” You wrapped your jacket around you as you stood a few feet away from the shed door.
Leland didn’t even seem surprised to see you. Knowing him, he probably heard you coming miles away. “C’mere, ya can be mah test bunny.” He waved you over.
You were already moving before your brain could catch up. Letting your eyes flicker around the shed, you saw his weapon collection. He had different awards pinned to the wall with knives, showing his participation in the police force and in the community. It impressed you how well he fit in.
You made the mistake of turning your back on Leland. Curiosity got the best of you, and you continued looking around. A bible was shoved in a corner, and it seemed to be well-read. That wasn’t what caught your attention, though.
Your eyes landed on jars, which were kept below the table. Two jars, in each one a finger would swim. When you looked at the painted nails, you could tell they were female.
A stinging pain hit your ass, making you straighten out your back in surprise. Before you could glare at Leland, a horrible electric shock crawled through your body. It travelled straight from the fat of your behind to the marrow of your bones.
When it stopped, you were quick to stumble forward. Your hips slammed into the table as you tried to regulate your stuttering heart. Turning around, you saw what nearly electrocuted you.
“Why would you attach a damn car battery to a cattle prod?!” Your hands were still shaking as you pressed them to your heart.
“To have a little bit of funnin’.” For once, he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. He swung the prod around like a magic wand. The cigarette in his mouth hung loosely off his lips, “Go on, honey, spread those legs. It feels real good to shock your privates.”
“You speaking from experience?” You raised your eyebrow at him. Spreading your legs was tempting, truly. You could feel lust start to dampen your panties.
Leland tilted his head at you, a wide grin on his face. “How else do you expect me to get mah pecker up?”
A breathy laugh left your lips. “Give the prod to me. I wanna shock you.”
His storm cloud eyes looked at you, practically staring into your soul. Then, he flipped the prod around and held it out to you. You gladly took it into your hands. “Well, you are of the gentler sex, so don’t worry about not being able to—”
You interrupted Leland by thrusting the prod into his lower stomach, pressing down to shock him. His body tensed under the electricity, he kept his lips pressed around the cigarette to stop it from falling down, and he was moaning. How long before it becomes dangerous? You let go after a few seconds, watching how his body moved in the after shock.
Leland caged your body in with his. His hands were slammed down beside your hips, while his forehead landed on your shoulder. You set the cattle prod aside and buried your fingers in Leland’s hair. He groaned happily.
“I want my stuff.” You decided to break the silence.
Leland grunted in acknowledgement. He straightened his back and took half a step back. His hands forced your thighs apart and shoved your nightgown up. You furrowed your brows, digging your nails into the wood of the table.
He took the cigarette from his mouth and proceeded to put it out on the inside of your right thigh. Your eyes widened in shock, and you let your body fall forward to bite down on Leland’s shoulder to keep yourself grounded through the pain. Your hands clasped around his upper arms to keep your knees from buckling.
The pain was sharp and short-lived. While the small wound continued to pulse, you were already yearning for more. Leland simply dropped the rest of the butt into the ashtray.
Leland turned around to a metal closet. He fished out his keys from his pants pockets and unlocked it. You tried to take a glance inside, but Leland blocked your curious eyes with his bigger frame.
When he finally pulled up a cardboard box, he proceeded to slam the doors shut. He roughly set the box down, and you were happy to peek inside.
You gasped in delight and pulled out a framed picture of your mother. “I missed this picture so much!” You brushed the layer of dust away. “Oh, thank you for keeping it safe.”
“Ya owe me.” Leland rummaged around for his cigarette pack and scowled when he saw that he was out.
While Leland cursed his wife for not buying more cigarettes, you continued rummaging around the box of nostalgia. You pulled out a leather-bound picture book, feeling giddy.
You opened it and skipped past your baby pictures. Pointing at the old picture of Leland, you couldn’t help but squeal in delight. Ever since you became a mother, you have been weak for babies.
“Look at you!” You cooed at the little Leland. “With your lil’ overalls and the straw hat!”
Leland wasn’t as moved as you, looking at the picture with empty eyes. “Should’ve fuckin’ burned it.”
You covered the picture with your hand to protect it from the violent man. “No. It’s mine.” Leland just scoffed.
Once you finished flipping through everything, you gently closed the book and put it back in the box. You made a vague movement with your hands, showing the height at your knees. “This small.”
“Shuddup.” Leland glared at you. “ ‘m a real man now, sweetheart.”
“So small and scared of lightning. Clutching my skirt whenever a storm would roll around.” You let yourself get lost in memories.
Leland moved to cover your mouth. You pressed your tongue against his palm. “Don’t ya remember? The black angus cow that got struck by lightnin’?”
You furrowed your brows in confusion, trying to remember what he was talking about. You pushed his hand off your mouth. “Oh my God, yeah, I remember. How do you remember? You were so little—” You raised your eyebrows, “You were so little, I still used to carry you around in my arms.”
The cow was a tragic story, really. As you were carrying Leland across the plains to run home, because a heavy storm was going wild above you two, a cow was struck by lightning right in front of you.
His eyes got big, and his grip on your dress tightened. While his breathing picked up, he did not make a single sound. Leland was a strange child who rarely cried and looked at everything with big, empty grey eyes.
The cow died while suffering, even though Leland’s mother instructed her useless husband to kill it. Just like with everything else, Leland intensely watched it.
“You were also small,” Leland adds in. Now, he made a gesture to his hip. “Like this.”
“…But you were smaller.” You whispered.
You were young, but Leland was younger, and therefore, you put all your fears and pain aside to babysit him. Hiding you two away for as long as you could manage, attempting to teach him right from wrong. Not much stuck, but you tried.
“So small!” You practically wailed, wrapping your arms around Leland’s neck and pulling him down into your chest. He let you, while his body tensed under your touch. “Baby, baby, baby…” You mumbled into his hair. With a sad sigh, you nuzzled the top of his head.
Leland finally got enough of your babying, slapping your hands off of him. You didn’t let that stop you, wrapping your hands around his face. Your thumbs brushed over his stubbly cheeks.
His hands wrapped around your wrists. Leland’s eyes were half lidded, all his focus put on your face. He leaned forward, your noses tips brushing against each other. You let your eyes flutter shut as Leland pressed his lips into your own.
Leland’s hands moved to your hips, pulling you in impossibly closer. You let your own hands glide to his neck, down his shirt and scratch his back. He groaned into your mouth, biting down on your lip. You opened your lips, letting Leland shove his tongue in.
You disconnected the kiss to catch your breath. Leland’s finger pressed bruises into your hips with the desperate way he was holding on to you. “We could fuckin’ do it now.” He practically gasped out.
“Do what?” You asked. Sex? Sure. You were down.
“Run away. I have got the damn money saved up! We can finally leave.” His hands were flailing around while he talked, a manic smile on his face. You hesitated for a second, which was enough to make Leland blow up. “What? What fuckin’ is it? Your husband? Fuck that guy, you clearly don’t even like that limp dick. Or, what, you believe in something as pathetic as love?”
Your voice was soft as you let your most vulnerable feelings escape, “I love my children. I can’t leave them, ever. If anything happened to them, I would never be able to recover.”
You think they are obnoxious, annoying, horrible, bratty, exhausting, and the best thing to ever happen to you. Before, you did not think you could ever love, if such a thing even existed outside of books and movies, but now you are so sure of it. Love is real, and it is what you feel for your children.
The silence was heavy, and you could see Leland’s eye twitch. You grasped the box in your sweaty hands and decided it was best to leave. “Thank you for keeping my things safe. You should go to sleep now, Leeland.”
When you walked across the lawn, you could hear Leland scream, together with things breaking and being trashed. At least your things were safe. You hope this will expand to your spawn.
Leland doesn’t doubt that he could pull it off. Kill the two children, fuck, let’s add in the husband, too. Have you been the last one left and—
You would just blow your brains out. Leland’s foot came down on a box, which he proceeded to kick out of the shed. What a waste of a mind would it be to let you rot away in the attic? That would just bore him.
He stopped mid-punch. His knuckles were starting to bleed, and the dry skin cracked under the pressure of his punches. Nothing would stop him from just blackmailing you. If he threatens you, you will just smile; if he threatens the children, he can force you into submission. He can get the control he needs, which he deserves.
And while he is at it, he can finally dig up some dirt on your husband. After all, Leland needs to thank the idiot for fucking up and bringing you back home.
’m doin’ everythin’ in this damn house ( drabble )
synopsis . “ after a bit of back and forth and a bit of harsh words from your beautiful husband...coyle is now your malewife! lucky you ... (un)fortunately, he loves his sweet, beautiful significant other enough to resign from his beloved cop job and stay at home while his partner dies in the pile of their office work. ”
warnings/contents . sfw , coyle , no murkoff au , fluff (real) , domestic fluff , swearing , established relationship
pairings . leland coyle x gn ! reader
the first day was...silly, to say the least. you were dragging yourself to the front door, turning the knob weakly and letting yourself in the house. you sigh tiredly, locking the door behind you lazily as you kick your shoes off at the door, not even bothering to keep them organized on the side. “leland.. i’m home..” you call out softly, stretching your arms over your head as you delve deeper into your house and into the kitchen, where your husband was cooking dinner while wearing the cute, pink kitchen apron you bought him. “mmh, welcome home, sweet’eart,” he mumbles; and despite this cute attire, he still had his cigar in his mouth and his aviators on the counter—the usual coyle look before he became this for you. “ehehe, you look cute, baby..” you giggle tiredly, your arms magically wrapping around his waist as he flips steak on the pan. “eh, you know fuckin’ baby talk makes me sick,” he scoffs, but lets you hug him from behind while he cooks anyway.
“don’t caree.. you’re all cute for me tonight..” you mutter, squishing the side of your face against his back, wrinkling his loose shirt with the mass. he blows a bit of smoke from his cigar, his free hand—the one not holding the pan reaches out to wrap around one of your wrists gently, cooing. “yer tired, ain’t ya?” he asks, turning off the stove when the steak gets cooked just right. “ya need-a sleep, not cuddle up all on me like a teenager,” he huffs. but really, he feels great having you hug him from behind, so close to just falling asleep on his back if he doesn’t start talking. “did you eat the lunch i cooked for you?” he asks, tugging on your wrist gently. you reply with a soft hum, nodding against his back. “good, go and sleep, brat. i might get a bit pouty if you don’t eat my meals but i guess i can let yer cute ass skip dinner,” leland mutters, trying to get your hands off of him. “we can eat together tomorrow, give yourself some shut-eye.”
you whine, huffing as you reluctantly get off of him, “mmgh.. can’t sleep without youu..” you mutter, tugging on his shirt. “i know, i’ll be up in a lil’ minute, just get yourself some rest, yeah?” he turns slightly to cup your cheek, giving it a light tap with his palm; maybe it’s a slap that doesn’t even feel like anything. “stop bein’ a lil’ brat and go, i’ll follow up soon,” leaning in, leland gives you a small kiss on the forehead, making you melt. “mmhh, now get out o’ my sight ’fore i go and carry you up there myself,” he pulls away, taking his cooked steak, placing it on plates and putting it in the fridge for you guys to eat tomorrow. you walk up the stairs tiredly, opening your shared bedroom’s door and collapsing on the bed. the soft, inviting feeling of the warm bed paired with yours and leland’s scent almost makes you sleep immediately. you were too tired, your eyes fighting to stay open as you lay on the bed like a dead body.
just as your eyes were closing in on themselves, you hear the door creak and footsteps invading the room. you turn to lay on your back, looking up at leland dressed in his tight, casual clothes, his cigar from earlier gone, and aviators in hand. “mmgh.. my pretty wife..” you call out, you raise your hands in the air up at him, inviting him to join you on the bed. “heh, ’m doin’ a good job, ain’t i?” he chuckles, climbing on the bed beside you, his hand reaching out to place his aviators on the nightstand. “you always keep that nearby at all times.. the aviators..” you mutter softly, cuddling up beside him. “yeah, can’t let my swagger die down all ’cause o’ my cute lil’ baby wantin’ to make me a damn housewife,” he huffs. “your aviators make you swag..?” you ask, eyes half-lidded. “o’course, they get me all the ladies.. and they get me my cute lil’ brat, i mean, they’re right here on my bed.” he mutters pridefully. “no one could resist your charm..” you muse. “glad ya know, sugar.”
you end up with your eyes closed, your mouth slightly open as small droplets of drool drop on leland. you were knocked out cold, clearly tired from whatever work you were doing in your office. your husband thought his work as a police officer was rough, but seeing you like this, so tired and cute while resting, it makes him soften up and maybe...his cop job wasn’t that bad. he holds you close to him, one finger coming up to push your chin, closing your mouth and wiping the drool from the side of your face. he lets his chin rest on your head, his beard definitely giving you a bit of an itch. “goodnight, m’baby,” he secures the whisper with a soft kiss to your forehead, smiling giddily despite himself. letting his eyes close, he himself drift to sleep.
Summary: your father has invited Dog to help catch a fugitive, little did you know he also invited Leland, your childhood rival.
Credits to all gif owners
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“ Are you kidding me right now dad? ”
Your father rolled his eyes, expecting your complaints, going back to his paper work and beer,
“ We only need Beth and Dog, that rat tail jerk can take a hike. I’ll handle speedsters, we don’t need him! ”
Your father sighs, having enough of your intensive whining. “ I’m losing too much money and I have no leads. I need the best and the best is Dog and his family.”
You turned to your mother, looking for backup. “ They are the best, besides it's been years since you guys actually saw each other. I think you're the only one holding a grudge ”
You stormed to your room, feeling betrayed.
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“ Gather around everyone, gather ‘round ” Dog shouted out to the team.
“ Get your asses in here ”Beth chimed in.
Leland, Dwayne Lee, Youngblood, baby Lyssa and Justin shuffled into the room, Leland and Dwayne Lee pushing each other.
Beth whistled at them, grabbing their attention and giving them a scary look, they sat.
“ Okay, an old friend of mine. The l/y/n’s have called me asking a favor. He’s got a bounty sky high and it’s hurtin’ his pockets. So we’re gonna help them ”
“ That’s y/n’s father isn’t it? ” Dwayne Lee asked, elbowing Leland. “ You used to be all over that girl like white on rice ”
Leland slapped Dwayne Lee in the back of the head. “ No I wasn’t, that girl gets on my nerves, thinks she knows every damn thing ”
“ Uhuh ”Beth sassed, knowing differently.
“ Like it or not we’re helping and she’ll be there. You two are quite similar whether you admit it or not. Alright we’re already late, let’s go. Young blood, Dwayne, Lyssa yall with me, everyone else with Beth ”Dog announced, everyone flooding out the building to the SUV’s.
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You were on the couch in the main room of the bounty office, you heard them pull up. “ Finally, can’t even get here on time ”
Your mother and father filed out of the office, greeting everyone and welcoming them to the office, introducing everyone, you stood there with your hands crossed. You caught Leland’s eyes from across the way, rolling your eyes and going back inside. Your father apologized in your place, leading them inside and showing them to the whiteboard, ready to get to work.
The first fugitive was a 42 year old man, 220 pounds, 6,0 feet tall, 3rd degree robbery, 2nd degree assault, and promotion of drugs. His name is Timmy Higs, goes by Tim in the streets, bail set at 50,000 and has risen to 60,000. Leads: numbers, addresses, and identified drug promotion hot spots.
Leland interrupts, “ If you have a hot spot, Why haven’t you hit it yet? Is it a den of them or covered with dangerous weapons? ”
“ Obviously, jackass ”you spit out, mumbling the last part. Dwayne Lee put his hand in front of his chest, stopping a fight from breaking out. Your father glared at you and moved on back to Leland’s question. A few more questions were asked, then everyone geared up for pursuit, meeting back in the main room.
“ ‘Kay, Beth, Youngblood, Lyssa, Justin with me ” Dog waved his hand, Leland glared at his dad, rolling his eyes and getting in your dad’s SUV. You were across from him in the back seat, staring out the window. Your dad started informing Leland about the streets, cities, possible back roads at the hot spot, mispronouncing one of the names.
“ You mean Whiterwaker street ” you huffed out.
Your father ignored your sass, focusing on the task at hand, but Leland couldn’t let it slide “ Why don’t you inform me then, 2 bits ” you rolled your eyes at him, gritting your teeth, holding back your bite. That nickname came from your childhood, well not really. You gave your 2 cents then and you still give it now.
You arrived at the hot spot, scanning the area, asking common folk if they have seen Tim, showing pictures of him. No one knew him, so the team searched the crack nest. You and Leland searched the back, being the fastest of the group. Dog called Leland up front, getting a chance to search the place. A few seconds in, someone came running out the back and you chased, turning on the burners. “ We got a runner, get’em y/n, get’em y/n ” Beth announced to the team, seeing you take off after the runner. “ Go, go, she isn’t gonna be able to hold him forever ”he urged Leland after you. He was right, you got the guy, knocking him over, but when you went to cuff him, he fought back, punching you in the nose and fleeing. You were up, but you felt dizzy, trying to balance yourself.
Leland arrived as you fell out, catching you. “ Hey hey, come on, stay awake ” he said cupping your cheek, moving your head to keep your eyes open. You couldn’t hear him, but you could feel him, his touch was light on your face, warmth radiating from his body, heating you up.
You recovered, your mind fully waking up, his face was right in front of yours now, breath fanning over your face, making butterflies go off in your tummy. He stood you up, Beth spotting you two, leading everyone else to you. You turned facing everyone, blood pooling from your nose a little, hands lingering on Leland. You mom and Beth ran to you first, checking your face, patting at the blood. The rest asked what happened, going back to the SUV’s.
The ride home was silent, no caught fugitive, one injured and now the whole neighborhood knew y'all were in town. Every one entered the house sluggish, your mom started dinner, handing you the first aid kit. Dinner was delicious, filling everyone’s tummy and distracting from the lost fugitive. Everyone chitchated for a few hours, before sleeping arrangements were handed out, as if your day couldn’t get any WORSE.
“ You're kidding right? ”You and Leland synced.
“ Just go to sleep, I don’t wanna hear it ” your father scolded.
You kissed your teeth, hopping in bed, turning the opposite way from Leland on the floor. You couldn’t sleep though, your mind reminding you of your interaction with Leland earlier.
“ I didn’t need your help rat tail ” you said out loud, testing if Leland was still awake.
“ You’re welcome 2 bits,” he remarked.
You sat up, annoyed with his arrogance “ I had him ” you scuffed
“ And you lost him ” he returned, matter of factly.
You threw the covers off, about to exit your bed, if I go to the bathroom I won’t have to deal with his annoying ass. Even if it's for a few seconds.
You didn’t realize how close you were to the edge, you go to get out of your bed, but end up falling out of it instead. You heard Leland make a sound, you looked up and Leland was there face to face with you. “ What the hell is wrong with you, sit down, shit ” he whispered sharply. You froze, feeling the same feeling you felt when Leland was close to you earlier. You could smell his cologne, mixing with the musk of his natural body, making you dizzy. " Can you move? ” barely audible, your breath hitching.
“ You move, you fell on me ” he responded, refusing to move.
You went silent, staring at him. Trying to shake this feeling “ I see, this is all you needed to shut up ”
You hated when he was smug, confidence going to his head, making him unbearable. Venom filled your mouth, you hated him yes, but his words did something for you.
Like a snake, you get ready to strike, but are silenced by Leland lightly pressing his lips to yours. You pushed at his chest, your mind still resisting. He cupped the nape of your neck, pushing his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. The feeling of his lips, the taste of him, all the anger and tension over many years melting away at your resolve.
You moved to his lap, untying his pony tail, lacing your hands in his hair. His hands found your hips, digging into the skin there.
“ U hear that? ” he mocked, breathless, trying to make a joke, before capturing your lips. You felt his hands slipping under your shirt, caressing the skin underneath. You moaned into his mouth, sliding your hands down his chest. In one swift moment, your back met the soft blanket below, his weight pinning you to the ground, towering over you.
He bunches your top up, kissing the exposed skin there. “ Leland ” you breathe out, your voice breaking.
He kisses up your body to your ear, ghosting over it. “ Nothing to say, 2 bit ”
“ I hate you so much ” you spit out, trying to wiggle out his hold, though you’d want nothing more than to be taken just like this, by him. That thought made your mind want to fight harder against him, but your body did the exact opposite.
He chuckled at your struggling “ I can fix that for you ”
You weren’t opposed, in fact you wanted him to devour you. You felt his hand slide under your shirt, teasingly dipping into your shorts.
“ You won’t ” you poked at the bear.
“ Fuck, you just don’t stop do you, y/n? ”
You never heard him use your name before, waking a fire low in your belly, slick pooling at your entrance.
“ This okay? ” he asked, fingers already near where you need him most. You nod, humming.
“ Use your words “ he says, pulling away from your heat. You look into his eyes, his brown irises swirling, memorizing you. “ Yes ”you let out, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
He returns to your heat, running a finger through your folds. “ So wet, baby. Sure you hate me? ” he cooed, teasing you.
“ Just fuck me already ” you huff out.
A shit-eating grin peaks at the corner of his lips. You know you're not getting out of this unscathed, he has you trapped like prey. You can’t even fight anymore, your want for him taking over.
He rubs a thumb over your sensitive bud, making you gasp and arch into him, before rubbing multiple circular motions over it. You bite your lip, muffling your moans, gripping the blanket below you. Leland brings his free hand to your lips, urging you to bite down on it.
“ Can’t have everyone hearing how pathetic you sound right now ? ”he teased
You rolled your eyes, annoyed at his smugness. He sinks 2 fingers in rapid succession, pumping them in slowly, but hitting your g-spot precisely. He feels your walls clench around his hand, signalling your orgasm. He sped up, hitting your g-spot at a faster rate, pushing you over the edge.
You bite down on his hand, the tight cord snapping within. Leland’s smirk tugged at his lips, you wanted to slap that look right off his face.
He pulled out his fingers, bringing them to his lips, groaning at your taste, then brought his fingers to your lips. “ Open, have a taste ”. You suck the rest off his fingers, nipping at his hand a little, he watched, his cock growing harder.
“ Need to feel your warm walls around me ” he growls
His bluntness pools more wetness at your core. You point to your night stand, where you stash all the “ just in case ” condoms you're given, randomly. Though you never end up using them, nothing like this ever happening, when you're out with your friends.
He reaches the drawer getting the condom out, some falling out with the one he grabbed. “ Damn how many you got? ” he jokes. You smacked his chest, sitting up. “ You don’t even have any ”
“ I wasn’t planning on fucking you either, yet here we are ” he jokes further, a grin forming on his lips
He takes it, laying you back down, pressing his lips to yours. Without breaking contact he tugs your shorts and panties down. He slowly pulls away from your lips, biting at your bottom one lightly, then helps you out of your top, unclipping your bra with one hand. He admires your body, the way you shudder at his gaze. “ fuck..” he curses lightly.
His intense gaze overwhelms you, making you cover yourself with your hands. He removes your hands “ No, you're beautiful. Let me see all of you ”
He undresses quickly, never taking his gaze off you. Your eyes lock onto his cock, tanned along the shaft and red at the tip, your mouth waters.
He brings his hand to the base, stroking himself a few times, before stretching the condom over his cock.
He hovers over you again, capturing your lips, sliding your legs to his waist, spreading you wider for him, scooting closer, lining himself up with your entrance. You feel his tip at your entrance, your hips wiggling in anticipation. He sinks into you slowly, moans leaving both of you, breaking the kiss. Leland leans his head back, shutting his eyes tightly. “ fuck you’re so tight ”
You can feel the cord tightening within again, clenching around Leland. He pushes in further until he bottoms out, covering your mouth with his hand, setting a bruising pace. Your back arches into him, his cock hitting a new angle. “ Feel so good ” he whispers into your ear, leaning down, bringing you chest to chest. Your nails raked at his back, leaving marks.
You clench around him again, locking your legs around his hips. “ Gonna cum for me? ” You nod feverishly, getting close to the edge. His thrusts go slack, hips pounding into your uncontrollably, bringing his other hand to your clit, rubbing at your bud.
Your eyes clench shut as you cum around him, biting onto his hand, he bites down hard on his lip, drawing blood, muffling his moans. You ride out your highs, your legs trembling beneath him, he looks up at you, silently checking if you're okay.
You nod, catching your breath.
“ I’m okay ” your voice husky from suppressing your moans.
His signature grin forms, and you give him his credit by smirking as well. “ Still a jackass? "
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Leland is my og fine shyt. He's so fine. I don't see much smuts about him, so I wrote one.
I have not seen much for Leland x reader :(( so I figured I’d try :,) still haven’t played the game, just watched different videos so my interpretation might be a bit off. Sorry about that before hand :(
Not edited either and idk if they’re any warnings?? It’s pretty light and fluffy
~~~~~
It’s crowded, loud and honestly overwhelming but Leland’s presence helps a bit. Our shoulders and knees bump occasionally as we tie up our skates, me taking a bit longer since I want to make sure the laces are tight and that I don’t fall.
I’m nervous, I’ve been skating before and my balance is terrible. I warned him of this before I agreed to go out on a date with him, said I’ve never been and I would probably fall on my ass the whole time but he waved me off.
He reassured me that I didn’t need to be good, that he just wanted to spend time with me and said if I really didn’t want to we could do something if I wanted. He’s always so respectful and polite so I figured why not try?
Worst comes to worst I fall flat on my face and he leaves me right?
“Are you ready?” He nudges me playfully and I look up. He smiles at me and nudges me again to which I nudge back. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” I nervously grin up at him as he stands and holds out his hands. “C’mon I’ll be right here.” He reassures.
I grip his hand, take a deep breath and then try to stand as he pulls me up. I immediately lose my balance, giving a quick yelp as I fall flat against his chest and clutch on his arm and shirt for dear life. His arms quickly wrap around me, keeping me semi steady, “Woah!” He exclaims chuckling. “Sorry, you okay?” He questions with a concerned tone and face, he’s blushing.
Oh my god oh my god oh my god
“Yeah I’m fine I think.” I nervously giggle and letting go of his shirt to grip his arm. “I got you don’t worry.” He moved backwards and holds my arms, pulling me with him onto the skating floor. (Only ever been rollerskating once so I don’t know the correct words, I just know it was popular in the 70s. I’m sorry😩)
I let out shriek earning glares and weird looks at us but Leland doesn’t seem to mind, just focusing on me it seems. He smiles warmly at me as we finally get on the skating floor and turns to go along with the crowd, still pulling me along. I don’t move my legs at all but try to straighten my back.
I wobble a bit and squeal while Leland laughs and tells me it’s okay. He explains what to do and how while he drags me along with him. He’s actually really good, he doesn’t stumble or shake.
He makes sure I don’t fall and if I start to his grip tightens and he pulls me closer. Every time he does so he blushes and apologizes and I tell him it’s okay.
He starts talking maybe to distract me or just to talk but it’s nice: We talk pretty much about everything, college, work, our other plans stuff like that. I wobble every so often but he keeps me from falling.
The music is loud and people are constantly bumping into us but for some reason it doesn’t bother me as much as it normally does. Maybe because I’m not alone? Maybe because Leland wouldn’t let anyone do anything? His presence is nice and he’s so sweet.
He tries to get me to let go and try skating on my own but I much rather prefer holding onto him. He moves to my side and wraps an arm around my side and holds my hand, “Is this okay?” He asks and I nod. “Yes don’t leave me to do this alone.” I jokingly whine. He laughs shaking his head, “Never.”
We joke and laugh for the rest of the night while the music continues to blare and people come and go.
~~~~~
I’m sorry if the ending is kinda lackluster 😭 I lost motivation and ambition:( I wanna write more for Leland honestly 😩
This idea has been festering in my mind, pls pls, obsessed Coyle rlly wants to get freaky with the reagent, but reagent is virgin and "like the good Christian law abiding man" he is, he decides to sort of force a ring on that finger!! And not sin by having premarital sex and to consumate their wedding..and then honeymoon night!! Ps..crybaby reagent reader..
tags & content: NSFW, rape/non-con, sexual content, rough sex, painful sex, obsession, canon-typical violence, physical assault, a not really official wedding but it gets the point across, blood as lube, loss of virginity, humiliation, reagent reader, afab/female reader
“You startin’ with the waterworks already?” Coyle sneered, his fingers bruising as they crushed you easily against the office desk. Your fingers scrambled uselessly against the charred wood, only serving to squash your ass harder against the cleft in his pants.
You can barely get the air out of your lungs, let alone pleas. Your lips gasp around air, tasting the bitterness of your own tears as they track uncontrollably down your dirtied cheeks. The clatter of the baton being placed beside your head made you flinch, whimpering. His free hand scoops under your jaw, fingers jabbing hard into your wet cheeks.
You felt his rough chuckle vibrate against the side of your head, teeth grazing the shell of your ear as he seemed to drown in your misery.
“Best keep that wailing to a minimum before I decide to fry you from the inside out,” he growled, though as he ground himself against your ass, his confined cock, now hard, told you he didn’t quite mind the tears.
Panic lanced up your throat, his rough fingers easily shoving your pants and panties down to your ankles. A high pitched, weedy sound erupted from your throat.
“Stop, stop, please,” you wailed, clawing at the desk. The acrid scent of smoke and charred flesh filled your lungs.
Coyle cursed, his lip curling into a cunning smirk. “You right, sugar. I almost forgot.”
He leaned over you then, an immovable force pressed over your back. You tried to arch away from him, but the wooden desk only dug uncomfortably into your ribs. When Murkoff fed you the way they did, it was easy to feel them against any hard surface. A hand reached for your wrist, and you squealed, trying to jerk it away from his grasp. You managed to slip away twice before his impatience took over.
His fingers curl tight in your hair, slamming your face into the desk. Numbing pain cracks across your nose, barely even feeling the steady trickle of blood that mixed with your tears. You gasp, body tensing.
“I will make you ride that fuckin’ lightening if you keep squirming,” Coyle spat, releasing your hair with a rough shove before finally catching your wrist. “Weepy sack o’shit.”
You moaned, your struggles weakened by the dizzying sensation in your vision. Just barely, through the blurriness, you watched him work a charred, metal ring onto your finger. It drags uncomfortably against your skin, the metal rough and cold. Coyle doesn’t care about the discomfort, admiring the mockery of a wedding ring sitting wedged on your finger.
“I’m a God fearing man, sweetness. I believe in doing things the right way, the way the Good Book intended,” he mutters, thumb lingering on your knuckle where the wedding ring kisses. “Ain’t right for a man and woman to be together without the blessin’ of the Lord and the State.”
He leans his weight harder into your wrist until you cry out in pain, the bones grinding uncomfortably.
“Ain’t you got something to say, you ungrateful little shit?”
Spots dizzy your vision. Your lips barely form around anything other than a sob. He shakes you roughly.
“I will fuckin’ fry you, girl. Say it.”
“I-I…do?” You sob, nails digging hard into the wood. All you’re rewarded with is an approving grunt from Coyle, muttering something in triumph under his breath. He lifts his weight off you, and you almost sigh in relief. A glob of blood drips from your nose when you lift your head an inch, but you’re stopped dead when his hand lands hard on your ass.
You hear him spit, and a warm glob of saliva lands at the top of your exposed folds. Disgust wracks through your spine. You instinctively try to curl in on yourself, but the crushing realisation that you’re trapped paralyses you.
His thumb catches the wetness and rubs it roughly over your dry cunt. It’s an uncomfortable, vile feeling, making your bottom lip wobble.
“We’re gonna do this proper-like. Have us a real nice honeymoon night.” His lip cracks open into a sadistic grin. “Wanna make sure this marriage is sanctified, every which way.”
“I can’t, I can’t,” you sob, your shoulders shaking as you draw a pathetic wail into your lungs. “Please stop it.”
Coyle kisses his teeth in annoyance, but he doesn’t lash out. You feel his fiery glare pierce the back of your head, before his thumb moves higher up instead. It presses against your ass, but not hard enough to push past the ring of muscle. Your body goes rigid.
“It ain’t right for you to be so ungrateful, wife,” he hisses, barely held back contempt in his voice. “Ain’t right at all.”
“I’m sorry,” you stammer, blinking away tears. They won’t stop coming. “I just, I—”
“Any other man, they’d’a had their way with you by now. Raped you raw and left you for dead,” Coyle harshly cuts you off, his words like a knife to your heart.
You start sputtering, your voice cracking with hysterics. “No, no, please…”
He seems to let the image linger, a horrifying alternative; you’re sure if Leland hadn’t been enticed by your blubbering confession of being a virgin, he would’ve done exactly that. You imagine yourself, a charred, twitching corpse to join the police station’s macabre decorations.
“But it’s our honeymoon, ain’t it?” He chuckles darkly, twisting his fingers in your hair. You shrink away, but he doesn’t yank your head up like last time. He seems to enjoy the way you brace yourself for it instead, anxiously anticipating his actions. His scarred flesh brushes against your cheek, and your nose wrinkles with a shiver. “Why don’t I give you a choice?”
His finger presses harder against the ring of your ass, making you squeak.
“You want me to ruin your cunt?” He growls in a low rumble. “Or this tight little asshole?”
Your eyes widen, gasping for breath. He presses his finger against the ring of muscle, just barely breaching. It’s enough to make you choke on a sob, squirming uncomfortably underneath him.
“My…My!” You sputter, dissolving into a mess. You hiccup on sobs, and Coyle simply scowls.
“Don’t keep me fuckin’ waiting.”
Humiliation burns through your core. “My…” Your bottom lip wobbles, your voice a shaking whimper. “My…pussy…”
Behind his sunglasses, you’re sure his eyes light up with malicious glee. Just the sound of you forcing that mortifying answer from your lips makes him shiver. His hand finally releases your hair, trailing down the side of your neck. It’s plastered with sweat, but he doesn’t care, even when your shoulders instinctively shoot up to your ears.
“Good girl,” he growls, his hand roughly groping your breast. When the position makes it difficult, his fingers dig hard into your shoulder and yank you onto your back. His thumb moves away from your ass, but you can’t even find it in you to relax. “Ain’t that as sweet as apple fuckin’ pie?”
It’s worse like this; your face is a mess, slick with tears and your eyes red raw. Your legs don’t react fast enough to kick, his hands digging into your hips and jerking you closer to the edge of the desk. Your exposed cunt presses against his clothed hard on, legs falling open around his hips.
Your chest heaves in panic. You jerk away when he tears at your shirt, yelping as the material gives way easily. He rumbles something about the way your tits look before he grabbing one again, digging into the soft flesh hard enough to to bruise. He leans down, tongue flicking out to circle a peaked nipple before he draws it into his mouth. He sucks hard, teeth grazing the sensitive bud, before releasing with a crude, wet pop.
His fingers move to your cunt next, the calloused pads of his fingers probing them roughly, smearing a fresh glob of saliva he spits crudely onto the flesh. He finds your clit, your hips twitching in surprise at the way he grinds down hard on the little nub.
You whimper, realising you can’t even hide your face in the desk.
You feel like you’re going to be sick. Reluctant arousal just barely blooms in your belly, but it’s enough to make you shiver with shameful tingles. The revulsion, at yourself and Coyle, hits you hard. Even when you scrunch your eyes shut, you can’t escape the humiliation.
Two fingers suddenly plunge in your cunt.
Your eyes snap open with a ragged, shocked gasp, legs snapping shut around his hips. Coyle cares little for your comfort, his lip twisted into an impatient snarl. Numbly, you realise it was because you’d closed your eyes, trying to retreat into the darkness beneath your eyelids. He pumps them roughly, your head shaking from side to side as you grasp the edge of the desk above you until you white knuckle it.
“It hurts,” you whine, tears blinding your vision again. Coyle doesn’t listen to you, his eyes having shifted focus back to the way his fingers disappear inside your cunt.
“Tighter than a nun,” he whistles.
You clang of his belt ripples through the air. Panic tightens in your chest, your lungs stuttering to a stop. He loosens his pants enough to free himself, and you force your eyes away from the sight of his cock. You swallow down a scared whimper, mouthing pleas you can’t get around your tongue.
You feel the head of his cock through your folds, his hips rutting impatiently through the warmth. It bumps against your clit, making your teary cheeks flame red.
“Ain’t gonna be gentle,” is the only warning he gives before he forces his way into you. The pain is immediate and bright, drawing a horrible scream from your lips before you can even take a breath. It explodes through your core, your lack of arousal and his lack of concern for your pleasure making it feel like he was splitting you open.
“It hurts! It hurts!” You wail, your voice cracking. “Stop it, please! Stop!”
You claw desperately at the desk, trying to find any sort of leverage you can to get away from him. But Coyle is an immovable force, simply pistoning into you with single minded fervour. You’re gasping and sputtering, each hard smack of his hips against yours punching the air from your burning lungs.
“Stop, stop, stop, stop,” you choke out between sobs, hips instinctively bucking and twisting. Something hot and warm trickles down your thighs — through your hazy, panicked mind, you can tell it’s blood.
Shattering his silence, Coyle finally sneers down at you, his lips twisted in annoyance. “Quit your fuckin’ caterwauling, woman.”
He hooks your knees over his elbows effortlessly, even with your frantic, panicked kicking. His cock, slick with your blood, seems to batter your cervix with renowned speed. Your body bounces against the desk, fucking you hard enough to make your vision go white. Your back arches, but it does little to relieve the pressure.
Your mouth goes slack, your sobs whistly.
Coyle takes the opportunity to lean over you, grinding into your abused cunt. His breathing is ragged in your ear, a lustful groan rumbling from his throat that makes you sick. “Fuck, fuck.”
You don’t know when he finishes, your mind blank. You’ve gone numb from the pain, only able to feel his rhythm stutter and stop, your body finally stilling atop the desk.
Your fingers and toes tingle with numbness.
Dazed, you stare at the ceiling. You don’t know how you’ll make it to the shuttle in this state, but all you can think about is that it’s over. The humiliation settles over you, but all you can think about is dragging yourself straight back to that Sleep Room.
You close your eyes for a fleeting moment.
Tears leak steadily from them, your nose wrinkled in quiet, panicked sniffles.
Leland blows out a ragged breath, his lips curving into a satisfied grin. He drops his gaze to your cunt, admiring the wet, sticky mess he’d made of it. He bumps your legs apart, teeth catching his bottom lip in a groan dripping with lust.
“Well, how ‘bout that?” He chuckles, gripping your jaw to capture your lips. The kiss is brief, filthy, rough, but you don’t have any energy to resist the tongue plundering your mouth. When he pulls away, he gives your cheek a rough pat. “Honeymoon ain’t over, sweetheart. I’m fired up already.”
Your voice is a muffled squeak. “What?”
“I let you choose what you wanted fucked first, babygirl,” Coyle chuckled darkly, wiping your tears roughly over your pale, exhausted face. “Now, roll over. Time to give this sweet ass a proper welcome.”
Hell o its me coylegooner 3000, pls... Tied up on ceiling reagent by coyle!! Coyle eats them out... 👅👅👅👀👀👀ykwim
pssst, hi, i set up a little kofi page here! i will likely maybe post updates of upcoming things i'm working on over there! tips are NOT required, but are all the more welcome and super super appreciated <3
tags & content: NSFW, rape/non-con and dub-con, sexual content, cattle prods and shocking, restraints, oral sex (reader receiving), biting, groping, nudity, masturbation, denied orgasm, humiliation, implied (canon-typical) violence at the end, reagent reader, afab/female reader, i didn’t proof read this
Shocks crackle all the way through your stomach, wrenching you from unconsciousness. A ragged, breathless scream tears from your throat, jerking you back into reality with a ferociousness that leaves you dizzy.
At first, you don’t know where you are. You try to blink away spots in your vision, but it’s proving an impossible task. You wrists feel numb, your toes barely finding purchase on the grimy floor. Stiffly, you lift your head, the overwhelming stench of tobacco flooding your nose. It makes you nauseous, a quiet sound of discomfort in the back of your throat.
But you slowly come to, through the thick fog in your mind, the pain jerking you awake despite the heaviness of your eyelids. When you shift, the dull pain throbs through your wrists, down your arms, spreading across the length of your shoulder blades.
“Bout time you woke your pretty little ass up, sugar.”
Leland’s voice is a shock to your system, almost as much as his cattle prod. The flesh he’d prodded was still smoking, bruised and twitching, right in the softest part of you belly. With a harrowing look down, you realise you’re naked. Leland’s grubby hand is already roughly kneading the flesh of your thigh, whistling as he marvels at your flesh.
You try to wriggle, but the pain that shoots through your spine halts you immediately.
“Hurts,” you moan, a choked gasp between clenched teeth. Rope bites your bloody wrists with ferocity, cinched tight around the hook keeping you suspended off the ground. Leland’s thumb hooks under the elastic of your panties, snapping them against your hip. You wince.
“Ain’t supposed to be comfortable,” he grins, fingers digging hard enough into your flesh to make you squirm. He crowd into your space, hoisting one leg over his broad shoulder. His beard scratches the skin he nuzzles into, an scratchy, uncomfortably feeling that makes you whimper. “Look at you, like a lil’ fish on a hook.”
Teeth sink into your flesh, before he drags his tongue over the indented skin. You’re too exhausted to try to use your arms, but a weak leg flutters out to graze him with a kick. Leland makes a noise that you don’t like, a rumble of laughter or amusement. He abandons his cattle prod to clench a crushing grip around your ankle, lifting your other leg onto his free shoulder.
Like this, when he stands straight, he’s in the perfect position between your thighs.
“Appetising lil’ fish on a hook, I gotta say,” he rumbles, his lips mouthing at your other thigh now. Your breath comes in short puffs, heart hammering as he pushes aside your panties. “Worked up quite the hunger gettin’ you up here.”
His thumb prods at your clit, and you whine, wriggling weakly.
“Don’t,” you choke, your chest tightening.
“Your cunt juice sayin’ something different than that whining mouth o’yours,” Leland growls, deliberately running his fingers through your folds. He parts them, admiring the string of wetness between digits.
He kisses his teeth, patting your ass.
“I’ll take good care o’you, sugar, don’t you worry.”
He dives in between your legs with vigour, mouthing at your pussy with a ferocity that makes you tense. You try to kick, to dislodge yourself away from him, but the grip he has on your thighs is hard enough to bruise, and strong enough to keep you right where he wants you. His tongue is rough, demanding, dragging over your sensitive flesh like it’s his last meal.
He occasionally spits, sucks, ravaging you like an animal. The sounds that escape you are traitorous, but you feel your pride dissolving with every little murmur out of Leland’s mouth.
“That’s right,” he encourages, right against your flesh. His fingers dig into your ass, while the other braces your thigh. “A man’s tongue can make you sing like a canary, huh?”
When your hips start to twitch, rocking up against his mouth, you feel him grin and firmly pat your ass. “That’a girl.”
The pleasure shoots up your spine, bringing tears to your eyes. His beard is prickly, a mixing of sensations that makes your core tighten. With each roll of your hips, he lathers your clit with more attention, the wet noises as filthy as the sounds coming from your parted lips.
Metal clanking barely reaches your ears. Leland clumsily unbuckles his belt, shoving his pants down just far enough to free himself. You can’t see him from here, but from the way his groan vibrates against your pussy, you know he’s stroking himself. The thought makes your thighs lock tighter around his head, desperately rocking back onto his tongue.
“Ain’t you just the tastiest piece o’whore candy I ever had,” he drawls out in a ragged, trembling groan, curling his tongue deep inside of you until stars erupt in your eyes.
“M’god,” you slur, the sounds of him sucking at your arousal making your head spin. You feel teeth against your sensitive bump, making you jolt.
“Lord’s name don’t belong in your filthy mouth,” Leland growls, but he’s still pumping his cock in his hand, fucking his hips into the tight space. When he drags his tongue up the length of your cunt, you choke out the best apology you can manage.
“So—Sorry…”
Leland grunts, dismissive. He’s far more focused on your weeping pussy, pumping his cock with more vigour.
“That’s it,” he growls, his voice ragged and muffled against your flesh. “Fuuuck.”
You can tell when he comes into his fist, his breath shaking against your twitching flesh. The orgasm hits him hard, but all you can focus is how the slow aching pressure that had almost reached its crest, was beginning to slip away from you.
You pant, impatient, trying to seek the warmth of his mouth again. Leland simply tips his head back, tongue sweeping out to collect the moisture there. He snakes a hand between your thighs, covered with ropes of fresh come, and smears it across your inner thighs. Your eyes fill with tears of frustration and desperation, trying to shake him off.
“Please, please,” you beg, your voice cracking. Your pussy is still weeping, raw, and the aching pain is starting to creep back into your bruised muscles. With a condescending pat, Leland hoists your legs off his shoulders. The momentum swings you slightly, and agony splinters up your wrists. You cry out, desperately trying to stretch your toes to catch the floor and stop yourself.
When the blurriness shakes out of your vision, you’re greeted by the cattle prod sparking in front of your eyes. The colours pop, making you shrivel. The stickiness of his come is uncomfortable between your thighs, coupled by the throbbing ache from your denied orgasm. Your chest rises and falls dramatically, frustration bubbled in the confines of your throat.
If you had the strength, you would have swung and kicked him. But as he waves the cattle prod over your already bruised flesh, cold fear douses your frustration instantly.
“Let’s see if this dries that whore cunt o’yours faster than you drip.”
