Hayloft
Yandere x Female Reader (2k words)
WARNING: 18+ NSFW, noncon/dubcon, somo, yandere, dustbowl vibes? Unhinged ovulation week fantasy
Summary: An opportunistic farmer’s son has his way with you after you blacked out at a summer festival.
Cole watched you through the barn rafters, the dusty slats of wood, from above. Longingly, at how your hair stuck to the back of your neck in the humid summer night. How your head went limp against his older brother’s shoulder as he helped you up the ladder, one shoe hanging from your foot.
His brother must have figured it would be easy to slip away, what with the party outside and all. He still heard the music, muffled and distant, the faint cheers and voices of the neighbors. He peered between hay bales at the snatches of skin he caught. He devoured them, dark blue eyes black in the low light as you laughed, slurred and slow, eyes half lidded as he watched his brother. You had a drink in you; he could tell by the sloppy way your fingers twisted around the ties of your dress, loosening them. He stared at the suggestion of your breasts through the pale summery dress with a kind of dumbstruck fascination that made every hair stand up on the back of his neck.
But the cold, roiling anger that boiled in his veins kept his focus.
Didn’t he deserve it more than his stupid brother?
If he had been born two years earlier, he seethed to himself, he would have been the object of your crush. He was sure of it. So he stood with his jaw set so tightly he felt his teeth clench. If his brother caught him watching, he’d beat him blue. He had considered it, weighed the risks before he gingerly hopped over the boards he knew creaked and pressed himself against a wall of hay. It was soft. Not a bad place, he admitted to himself begrudgingly as he nestled himself to a spot where he could catch a glimpse between bales. Not where he himself would have chosen, of course. He might’ve chosen the lakeside – but then again, the mosquitos, he reasoned with himself. Or maybe risked it to sneak into the guest bedroom, with the embroidered bedsheets and the pretty wallpaper that hadn’t peeled as much as the rest of the house. It had swallows on it, and Cole knew how much you loved birds.
He always paid attention. Dylan never did, even as you fawned over every idiotic thing he said. His fist closed around a handful of hay as he watched his brother lay you down. He was bigger than Cole, though not by much. But enough, a bitter part of him whispered. Enough to ruin everything.
But his brother wasn’t half as cunning. Cole gathered up the bucket, stepping quietly until he reached the edge. Sucked in a little breath. A dark thrill of satisfaction ran through him as he let the bucket fall. It clattered down to the floor of the barn, near the door where you had been carried in.
He watched as his brother’s shoulders tensed up. He released you suddenly, spooked, and Cole’s eyes narrowed as your pretty hair fanned out around you and your head knocked slightly against the hay-strewn floor of the loft. You opened your eyes, mumbled something, but you were almost out cold as Dylan scrambled back down the ladder.
He watched his brother look around wildly. He glanced up, and Cole felt his heart skip a beat as he stared right at him through the darkness. He was more than a little drunk, too, and he watched with cold intensity as he turned the bucket in his hands and glanced back up at the ladder, expression foggy. Cole snorted softly as he watched him, eyes shifting around in the darkness. He could pinpoint the moment his brother lost his nerve, how he hurried out of the barn door, banging it closed behind him.
That was his brother’s problem. He had no tenacity.
Cole stepped closer to you, still gingerly as though the creaking of wooden boards might wake you. You really were drunk. Fascination mixed with pity as he saw you there, all spread out in your nice summer dress.
“Bastard,” he whispered low as he saw how your chest rose and fell so slowly. His brother must have given you the moonshine. You almost never drank, but here you were, laid half naked in his family’s hayloft.
A cold fury racked his body, sliced through every semblance of reason as he imagined breaking open his brother’s skull. But it was impossible to linger on the thought as you laid there, so peacefully.
He swallowed and settled down beside you. He went through his plan again in his mind, and a giddy feeling rose up in his chest. He would wake you up, gently help you back down, and promise not to tell anyone. He studied your sleeping expression as he considered it. You’d be grateful tomorrow. Embarrassed, but that worked in his favor. He’d be the good guy.
His eyes darted to your sleeping form. Almost guilty.
Almost.
Would it hurt just to look?
He chewed his lip and fidgeted. Already, his blue jeans were tight around his crotch as he lifted the hem of the dress slightly. Hesitant. He tilted his head slightly, considering. He had never seen you this close when you were asleep, and he drank in the sight, his gaze intent, as he considered you. That dull ache, the familiar skip in his chest jolted as he took you in. He’s loved you for as long as he could remember, but seeing you like this…
He wet his lips. Just a look was fine, right? To see if his brother had messed with you. Yeah. Just one look. Didn’t he deserve that much?
After all, Cole had stopped him, didn’t he?
The floral pattern of the dress was slightly faded. It barely rustled as he lifted it up to your stomach, fingers trembling. A hand-me-down. He sort of recalled seeing it once on your big sister once, a few summers back, but his throat got all tangled up as he looked at you in it now, at how it fell gently all around your curves. It looked a little tight on you, a little see through. He was hypnotized as he traced the outline of your breast with his gaze. He inhaled sharply as his eyes caught on the little blush of nipple that kissed the white fabric. It sent a jolt of raw arousal straight through him, so powerful it made him laugh in utter disbelief. He crouched low, eyes wide and blown so that only a slice of blue was visible on the rim. He leaned over you from the side. Slowly, so slowly, he licked his thumb and forefinger. Brought it to the peak of your breast and rolled the nipple between his fingers.
You stirred slightly, a little half sigh twitching on your lips. The sound was sublime. He bit his lip so hard the taste of iron burst in his mouth. He sat rigid as he looked down, at your perfect nipple as it stood erect now, and he swallowed a groan.
He had to taste it. He crooked his head over your chest, being careful not to put any pressure on you. If you woke up now, he knew you would hate him, and that thought made an awful panic flare in his chest, but he still advanced towards you as though in a trance. He lapped his tongue over your nipple, closing his eyes at how soft and how firm you were at the same time. He swore your breath caught, so he jerked his head back. He froze, his heart pounding as he held himself still.
But you didn’t wake. You rolled your head from one side to the other, and he touched a shaky hand to his lips as he stared at the wet spot he made over your tit. He could see you clearly now, the fabric clinging to you. He faintly wondered if he might die with how much blood flooded to his cock at the sight.
He clambered even closer. Lower. He pressed his fingertips to your thighs – fuck, they were so soft, so pillowy, even as he felt the leanness underneath – and tried to pull you closer to him, where the moonlight cast through the open window of the barn and a little breeze came through. You made a noise, a sort of half murmur, and he nearly jumped out of his skin.
He could feel the warmth radiating from your skin and it made him ache in the best way. Made him aware of how painfully swollen his cock was as he slowly pulled your panties down. Like opening the best goddamn present he’s ever had. They were simple, cotton, a little worn like the rest of the things you wore. It took a lot of effort to roll them down your thighs enough, but oh, was it worth it.
He made a low, rough noise as he finally saw you. Saw the dark thatch of hair between your legs, the slight glistening of arousal.
He lowered his face to your cunt and inhaled deep, his eyes fluttering until they almost shut. Please, yes. He dug his nails into his thighs as he buried his nose deeper in your bare slit. You twitched, and his heart stopped as you made a low noise, but he couldn’t stop now.
His tongue must have been warm as it darted out, because he felt your thighs twitch around him. He held onto your hips and flicked his tongue out again, experimentally. His heart was fit to burst with how hard it was beating. He half wished you were awake, so tell him if it felt good, but he kept prodding, his eyes nearing rolling back at the taste of you, oh fuck, and he rolled his hips uselessly and moaned into your cunt as he tried to gather friction.
Then you made another one of those soft whimpers, and your legs trembled a little, and he knew it must have felt good for you. The raw, hot satisfaction that ripped through him made him nudge further into you, breathing shallowly, smelling your musk as he latched onto your clit. Swirled his tongue around, peering up at the rest of your body, as your chest rose and fell rapidly. You stirred, but not much. Not until he pressed even harder with his tongue, sucking on you, drawing out that labored breath until your legs seized up around him. He savored it, pressing down firmly until he had wrung every little tremor from your body.
Then he sat back, breathing hard and quick, trying to be quiet as he shakily wiped his mouth. Licked the sides greedily as he unbuckled his jeans and thrust his hand around his cock. He’s done this countless times, squeezed the base to the point he almost hissed in pain while thinking of you, but you were really here now. Under him. You were a little more disheveled than he usually imagined, and obviously not awake, but he bit his lip hard as he heard your breathy little sounds, wet and soft from sleep as he pushed a finger inside you.
His breath stuttered as you sucked him in. You were so warm, so wet. So relaxed. He let out a little huff of incredulity as he curled his finger and watched your hips wiggle slightly, your head toss, arms still splayed out above your head. He wondered if you slept like that all the time, dazed, as he began to pump his fingers inside of you in rhythm with his own cock.
He loved it. Feeling this close to you. He had to fight to control his breathing, his pace, to savour it. He tilted his head back, eyes half-lidded as he fixed them on you, his pumps sloppier. Fuck, it was so hot, those squelching noises as he slipped another finger in. You stirred, and he didn’t slow down, breathing hard. Even as your eyelids fluttered and his heart plummeted to his stomach, as he felt your legs jerk in response to him, as the noises that poured from your lips became more shallow and squeaky.
He squeezed his cock, hard, and moaned low as his cum spurted out in ropes. It hit your perfect thighs, dripping down and mixing with your nectar, buried in your pubes as he frantically stroked himself. Sloppy and desperate as he curled his fingers until he felt your walls flutter around his fingers.
It was a long while before he slowly slid his fingers from you. He sucked them thoughtfully, dark eyes drinking you in, blown and dilated as he carefully rolled your panties back up your thighs.
By the time he had done his zip up and carefully placed the hem of you dress down over your cum-soaked legs, he had a plan.
It made it easier to leave you like that, knowing how he would ‘find’ you at dawn, the sweet concern he would plaster on his face. All sheepish smiles and shy laughter, with your missing shoe in his hands. The thrill he would feel as he would sit next to you, knowing he was still on your skin. Knowing he could still smell you on his fingers.
Knowing you were his, even if you didn’t realize it yet.
