not Warhammer themed but Jesus Christ I need Tychus Findlay inside me in ways your feeble mind cannot comprehend
fem reader x Tychus Findlay (StarCraft, aka warhammer's twice removed cousin from america)
SMUT WITH A LIIIIIITTLE BIT OF PLOT!!!!!!! GRINNINGGGGG!!!!!!!!
Mating press march, dry humping, semi-public, lots of over the clothes stuff, Edging, Reader is wearing a skirt for the sake of easy access
@thevoidscreams *shakes a tychus like a treat bag* Ohhhh whiitttteee girrlllllllll!~
1.6k words
The overhead sodium light glows dimly, buzzing and flickering occasionally from a long night spent working, just as the rest of the cheap bar full of drifters and low lives alike.
Tychus, in all his muscled glory, leans back on a cheap sofa in the back of the bar. The leather sticks to skin in all the wrong places and faintly stinks of people smell and liquor. His knees part comfortably, leaving a chasm of space between the trunks of his thighs, paying the woman eyeing him up at the bar counter no mind.
Silently, he taps his foot along to the grungy song playing on the jukebox faintly in the background whilst lips close around a stubby brown cigar in his mouth, exhaling a thick plume of smoke, slowly wafting around his head in a dirty halo of grey. His fingers tapping impatiently on the arm of the sofa, squinting as he scans the large room yet keeps put in his seat.
He knows you’ll find him.
When you arrive, he hums to himself, pleased. Taking one more puff before pulling the cigar from his lips. "Took you long enough." He commented, smoke billowing from his lips as he pats his knee twice. "C'mere, girlie." Two words and his tone already takes a dip into a sinful rumble, guiding you to climb up on his broad thigh, placing a firm squeeze on your hip before letting it simply rest.
He scoots you down his thigh, pressing you close into his chest and wrapping his arm around you. “Awful forward of you, Tychus.” You say, cocking a brow at the rather possessive hold he has on your hip. “Don’t want folks getting the wrong idea.” He shrugs, taking another puff off his cigar, playfully he blows a little smoke in your face with a raspy chuckle then tilting his head back to exhale the rest, exposing the thick column of his throat.
“Not funny, T.” You cough and throw a sharp glance his way, Tychus on the other hand placates you with a squeeze on the thigh, thumbing circles on the tender inside. Insincerely he murmurs some half assed apology on your neck, fidgeting with the cigar in his opposite hand. “Daww, m’sorry, sugar.” You can hear and feel the smirk in his tone, it’s mostly honest. “S’just harmless, no need to get so worked up.” You roll your eyes irritably, though you can forgive it when he caresses the curve of your spine and either of you fall into a comfortable silence of shameless PDA.
“Dressed up real nice.” He comments, lips brushing against your temple. “Pretty as a picture, ain’tcha?” Tychus muses, tilting your chin up with a finger and admiring your face before guiding you in for a kiss, cupping a glute and squeezing it. You squeak into his lips as he licks at the seam of your mouth, his thigh presses upward and encourages you to grind down. “Tychus–” You gasp and look over your shoulder to see if anyone is watching. “Don’t mind ‘em none.” He murmurs, turning your head back to him and peppers your jaw in kisses whilst molding the doughy flesh of your ass in his large hands.
“I’d like to see ‘em try somethin’.” He smirks, glancing at a drifter staring a little too closely at you, he glares at him with a look that tells this wayward stranger to fuck off.
Meanwhile Tychus teases you in his large hands, occasionally huffing plumes of grey smoke from that little cigar. “See ‘em try and snatch up my girl. You just watch ‘em scramble when big bad Tychus shows ‘em what happens when you mess with the wrong motherf–”
You shut him up before anyone overhears his cocky invitation.
“Thank you, T. I get it.” Your finger pressed to his lips, the looks you give him makes him smirk against your finger, the bastard. “You know you won’t have to worry about that.”
Tychus grunts in acknowledgement, satisfied with your assurance. He breathes in a long drag of his cigar, turning his head away from you and exhaling. The cigar loosely perches between two fingers while you lean in to press a few shy kisses to his thick neck which only encourages Tychus to handle your curves with a firmer – though not indelicate – grip.
“Now you’re comin’ ‘round, Don’t be shy.” He purrs, feeling his blood boil with interest as your hands wander along his body, you flush hotly as his lips brush against your cheekbone while he murmurs dirty little nothings to rile you up. - You hate to admit how well it works. -
You bite your lip as Tychus adjusts you to fully sit in his lap, hips locked together and your thighs bracketing his. You can already feel how much he's enjoying your not-so-wholesome exchange in some half hidden corner of the bar.
“Atta’ girl, ain’t nobody lookin’.” he encourages, pushing his hips up and forward to slouch deeper into the couch, you stifle a sudden hiccup as Tychus’ half hardened length firmly nudges up into your core. The tingle of pleasure you get from it is undeniable and with that smug look on Tychus' face, he knows it too.
You bite your lip, letting the animal in your brain take over and mash all the little buttons and knobs as your hips rock once again, reciprocating Tychus' indirect hip thrust into your clothed groin. It's embarrassing how every little nerve lights up as you both work together, you can feel the wetness slicking your underwear and making your baser rubbing of groins feel frictionless.
Your mewls only prove to turn him on further, your warm breath against his neck, two points of friction burning hotter and hotter. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, your blunt nails dig into his skin, making crescent shaped indents while he keeps one hand glued to your hip, the cigar still in his lips and still chuffing away.
"C'mon Sweetheart, work those hips…" He grunts, you can feel the drumming beat of his heart pound against yours, his cock aches against the zipper of his jeans, the worn denim scratches against your thigh almost pleasantly, adding onto the amalgamation of sensations. You try to adjust your skirt so as to not possibly flash someone, though Tychus' fingers are brushing over the seam of your puffy folds though the cotton of your panties, already soaked through and warm with primal delight.
"Sweet thing, getting all worked up 'fer me~ Can't wait to take you home, gonna give ya everything you want~" He promises darkly in your ear, his breathing hitches and his hands suddenly stop you, pulling you off his twitching cock.
Tychus' brow is furrowed deeply, he takes the cigar out of his lips and stuffs his face into your neck. "Gettin' close, don't wanna make a mess…" He mumbles though just because he's stopped, it doesn't mean he's done, not with you at least. Tychus' fingers still circle over your quim with slow and featherlight caress. "fuuckk, Please… don't tease me…" You whine while fighting the oppressive grasp on your hips that keeps you pinned.
"I know, shh…" Tychus placates you with a thumb firmly pressed against your clit and languidly circling, kissing your lips to keep you quiet, the jukebox does you plenty of favors and loudly plays over your escapade, writhing against each other like sex-hungry serpents. "I ain't done yet, you just be patient 'fer me."
Nodding as you bite your tongue, the rough pad of his finger through her panties feels like heaven and sin all at once, though if he'd just tug that flimsy piece of fabric aside… The idea makes you shudder, though you're certain that you wouldn't be able to help yourself from climaxing and making more of a mess on his pants than you already have.
Speaking of which, Tychus' finger continues its lazy assault, teasing you and stoking the burning fire at the pit of your belly just right to bring you right to the edge of sweet oblivion, his voice rumbles in your ear, it takes you a moment to register what Tychus said.
"Beg for it."
His hand doesn't stop. You're mildly delirious and Tychus is enjoying every last second of it while he's leaned back. "Please, Tychus." The words fly out of your mouth before you can think. "I'm gonna cum if you keep doing that-- mnh!~" You're breathless and your hips still fight and buck against Tychus' pinning hands.
The man before you has a self satisfied smirk as you whimper for him, the thumb circling your clit quickens its pace, rubbing you right into much needed completion, pleasuring your throbbing cunt all the way through your come down.
You feel better, but not satisfied. Tychus is eyeing you up as you pant and gather yourself after making such a mess in your underthings. You want to say something, though a passionate kiss full of tongues and teeth suffices for now. You can taste the liquor and the tobacco on his lips, you cringe slightly even though you've come to terms with Tychus' perpetual smoking.
"Good girl~" He drawls, "I wanna see you do that again." You grin with him, pecking his lips one last time. "Take me somewhere better and i'll sing you a pretty tune~" You bite your lip with an inviting look and Tychus scoops you up from the couch, adjusting his pants and carrying you out of the bar with an impatient stride.
___________________________________________
Your shared hotel room is quiet, the bed is a tangle of sheets and the poor box spring is in shambles from your impassioned… "love making"
Tychus has one hand behind his head, you're tucked into his side with an arm curled protectively around your back. "How's that for ya?" He asks, already knowing your answer. You nod, wrapping her hands around his soft torso and letting your eyes flutter. "Thought as much." He rumbles cockily, squeezing your shoulder and letting you sleep against his side, admiring your features in the milky moonlight coming through the window.
