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gutsby · 6 months

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I’m a Good Girl, Officer!

Pairing: Reader x Detective Dixon x Officer Grimes x Officer Walsh

Summary: Apparently flashing your tits to truckers on the freeway is frowned upon in small towns like yours. When three familiar King County cops take charge of the case, you learn they punish bad girls a little differently.

Warnings: NSFW. Foursome! :-) Unprotected p-in-v, spitroast, double penetration, overstimulation, praise and degradation, bimbofication, throatfucking, painal, breeding kink, using c*m as lube, and a (consensual) strugglefuck. Elements of dubcon à la power imbalance and coercion. Age gap. Public indecency, evading arrest, assault on two cops, and general drunken stupidity.

“Goooooood morning, babycakes!”

Your best friend rolled the hem of her shirt over her chest and shimmied her shoulders at the big white semi truck about to pass under the bridge. The stranger at the wheel took one look at the woman’s tits and almost swerved across two lanes of traffic. The sight sent you and your drunken group howling with laughter, falling onto the ground as Maggie yanked her top back down.

It was five a.m. and freezing. The club where you’d been boozing all night had long since shuttered closed, and you and your closest friends from high school—home for the holidays and happily plastered—had gone wandering home in a daze. When one of the girls had stopped suddenly at the midsection of a bridge, you hadn’t been able to keep from sharing her smile the second she’d grinned and said, ‘For old time’s sake?’

In no time at all, you’d been lined up along the metal railing and ogling the unsuspecting drivers down below. The freeway was mostly empty at this hour, save for a couple tractor trailers and early morning commuters, but that didn’t matter.

Rosita was up next. You watched her eye an RV as it bumbled down the road and saw her take hold of her shirt just like Maggie had. Then, right when the camper got close enough, the brunette bent slightly at the waist, flipped her top up, and screamed at the top of her lungs:

“HEY BIG RED!”

A big, buff dude with a bright red handlebar mustache looked up from the passenger seat, as did the white-haired, bearded gentleman wearing a bucket hat beside him. The pair then watched your friend’s roadside spectacle with shared looks of wonder and awe, before passing under the bridge as slow as they possibly could. Rosita staggered off the ledge and reached for the flask in your hand, heedless of her breasts still hanging out.

“Your turn,” she chirped before taking a swig.

Your feet were already wobbling onto the concrete slab. From your vantage point, the outline of the sun was just then breaking out across the tops of the trees, casting the morning’s first rays across your bare skin. You stretched your arms out wide, Titanic-style, and basked in the warmth—likely looking drunk as all hell as you did.

“Ooo, this one, this one!” Maggie cut in presently.

You followed your friend’s gaze and caught sight of a sleek, glistening firetruck speeding down the road.

Perfect, you thought as your eyes soaked in the sight. You pictured the truck packed to the gills with hot and sweaty firemen inside, and your fingers itched at the bottom of your shirt. Curled under the fabric and ready to lift as soon as the time came. Even from a distance, you could make out a tiny cluster of uniformed men at the helm, each of their faces contorted with curiosity.

The truck sped up and drew closer. Maggie squeezed your hip, Rosita chewed her lip, and together, you all stared the firetruck down with bated breath until it was just about to go under the bridge.

In a blink, you flipped your shirt up and shook your tits back and forth for the men going by. Much to your surprise, the firefighter in the driver’s seat honked his horn a couple times, and another one, at the rear, stuck his grinning head out the window and waved.

You, Maggie, and Rosita waved right back, practically falling over each other in fits of laughter as you yelled,

“Call me, daddy!”

The three of you collapsed on the sidewalk in a heap of shitfaced hysterics. Rosita flung your flask to the side and smacked you playfully across your boobs—still out and proud and likely able to cut diamonds with how hard your nipples had gotten in the chilly morning air.

“Daddy?!” she wheezed, “You skank!”

You straightened up, partially splayed across Maggie’s lap, and wiggled your shoulders once more, feigning that high-pitched, ditzy voice you used whenever you were hammered,

“Daddy please fuck my titties, I’ve been such a bad girl!”

Then you gave the best porn star moan you could muster and started to pull your shirt the rest of the way off. Not thinking, you balled up the light pink fabric and threw it up in the air while Rosita cheered—‘Tits out for the girls!’—and Maggie almost pissed herself laughing. Really anything would’ve had your sides fit to split at this point, seeing how faded and adrenaline-drunk you were.

You reached up and waited for the top to fall back into your hand...until it didn’t. You cast a sweeping look across the three of you to see if your shirt had landed somewhere else, but the garment was nowhere in sight.

You turned and craned your neck to see over the railing.

“Shit!”

You scrambled to your feet and gripped the metal siding of the bridge, tits fully out and exposed to the world. You watched as an old Ford Ranger picked up speed and crushed the scrap of fabric under its tires, before the driver, in turn, gawked and honked his horn like a fool.

Just as you started to turn back to tell your friends the bad news—and beg them for a piece of spare clothing to cover you—a sound startled you all.

The short, sharp yelp of a siren straight ahead.

Your hands flew to cover your chest while Maggie and Rosita went floundering over each other trying to get up. A few yards away, a police cruiser had pulled up to the side of the bridge with its lights flashing bright red and blue.

Shit, again, seemed to be the resounding sentiment among you three as the car started inching closer.

“Stop right there!” a voice boomed over the PA system.

That only prompted your group to take off running.

You, cradling your tits in both hands, and Rosita and Maggie trying desperately not to trip over the curb, the wayside trash, or each other as they raced down the street.

Two car doors flew open. Then, the sound of that same voice, breaking out across the still morning air without the aid of the intercom and telling you to freeze right now, followed by the sound of footsteps. Boots thudded heavy on the ground below, moving fast and with purpose. Both pairs easily gained on your three retreating forms in a matter of seconds.

Maggie and Rosita were already leaps and bounds ahead of you. Too busy juggling your tits and struggling to breathe, you felt your heart sink.

Rosita shot a look over her shoulder and cried, ‘C’mon!’ as she eyed the cops coming closer.

I’m trying, you wanted to say, but couldn’t speak. Your chest was too tight, pupils blown wide with fear.

This was not the fucking time to be having a panic attack. But here you were.

Before you could stop yourself, you waved a frantic hand to your friends and somehow managed to scream, ‘Go!’

The girls slowed, tried to urge you forward, but, sensing that you weren’t keeping up and wanted them to go on without you, relented at last. They bounded off toward a side street and disappeared down an alley while you felt your legs start to falter beneath you.

“Freeze!” the voice bellowed again. Loud, gruff, and much closer to your ear than it had been before.

You did as he said, not because you wanted to, but because you had to, then, or your body would’ve given out. Still in the grips of terror and rampant intoxication, you stopped in your tracks, spun on your heels, and watched the two officers sprint toward you.

You started to raise your hands in surrender, but just when one of them approached—presumably to tackle you to the ground—your instincts took over. You scarcely knew what you were doing; you just felt your leg lift with the last bit of strength you had left, then, astonishingly, deliver a kick straight to the first man’s gut.

To the shock of you, the cop, and his partner, the man went tumbling backward. Fell straight on the pavement in almost comical fashion and grunted in pain.

“Rick!” the dark-haired one yelled reflexively.

His gaze darted back to you in an instant.

You knew you were capital F fucked. You didn’t bother trying to run and simply stared at the man left standing in a mixture of horror and dread as he charged straight at you.

Your flight response abandoned, you had only to fight. And, by the looks of your opponent, you sensed this motherfucker knew how to tussle.

Before you could even prime yourself for another kick, the cop had taken you down with one lunge. Pinned you flat on the asphalt and yelled right in your face,

“I said don’t move!”

You moved. You moved in his arms while he wrestled you to the sidewalk, snaked his hand around your front, pressed your back against his chest. You moved when he barked his orders once more, told you to get down now and stop resisting, and even wrapped his arm around your throat to force your compliance.

Chokehold’s illegal, asshole, you thought, fighting hard against his grasp. This cop played dirty, and appeared to give no fucks about who could see.

Just as his grip started to tighten around your neck, you heard the other officer back on his feet, talking sharply into his radio:

“Code 10-33. Requesting backup on Fayette Bridge.”

At the same time, the man above you was trying to shake his head, craning his neck to get his partner’s attention.

“Nah, nah, Rick, I got her!”

When ‘Rick’ didn’t seem to hear and kept shouting into the receiver, the burly cop turned his body to the side, squeezing your neck even tighter.

“Rick!” he called, “I got her right here, she’s— FUCK!”

Suddenly, the man’s voice broke off in a strangled yelp as you sank your teeth into the flesh of his arm. When he loosened his grip out of instinct, stinging with pain, you made a desperate attempt to slip from his grasp and get back on your hands and knees.

The freshly bitten cop just slammed you even harder on the ground, unleashing a string of expletives in your ear.

“Fuck you, pig!” you screamed back.

You weren’t sure what had come over you in the few short moments preceding this one—what had irked you so terribly to be inclined to kick one cop in the stomach and bite another on the arm like a feral cat—but there you went. Face down on the pavement with a set of handcuffs being clipped over your wrists.

You winced when you were jerked back onto your feet, the cop’s left hand on your shoulder and the other at your back. He shoved you to take your first steps forward, you instinctively told him to eat shit and die, and as a grim, unsavory unit, you walked toward the officer with his grip still fastened tight to his radio.

“You alright?” Rick asked, out of breath.

His gaze seared right through you to his partner—whose face, you could sense, was already beset with a scowl.

“Bitch bit me,” he spat.

You saw Rick’s expression change, watched his mouth move to speak again, when a sound crackled out of the receiver in his hand. A couple code words and street names you couldn’t make out.

“That’s— that’s alright, now, Officer Walsh has the subject restrained,” Rick returned hastily.

At present, Mr. Walsh had his thumb dug deep in your back, ostensibly holding tight to keep you subdued but more than likely just being an ass. He felt you flinch and gave you a fierce shake.

“Quit squirmin’, girl.”

“Quit pinchin’ me, pig!”

“You’d best watch that fuckin’ mouth’a yours.”

The voice above your ear had you easily outmatched in volume and tone, coarse as it was unkind.

You decided to try your luck anyway.

“Make me, pussy.”

The last thing you saw was the look of bewilderment leap to Rick’s face as Walsh thrust you forward, suddenly, and slammed you face-down on the hood of their car.

“What’d I say ‘bout that fuckin’ mouthin’ off?! Huh?”

“Shane—”

Rick grabbed this Shane’s shoulder in an effort to intervene. Tried prying him off before he could shove you down any harder, but his partner seemed adamant. Shane put his palm over the side of your head and knotted his fingers through your hair, quick to pull.

“Nah, man, I ain’t takin’ lip from some halfwit bimbo—”

“Hey!” you started, only to have your words muffled with your head forced back on the hood.

“Shane!” Rick snapped this time, taking a harder grip of his shirt and yanking him back. To your dismay, Shane kept a chunk of your hair clenched in his fist and probably dislodged a dozen or more strands when he was pulled away.

You let out a gentle groan as your head hit the car for a third time and the two officers broke off in a skirmish.

“You heard what Dixon said,” Rick hissed.

“Fuck what Dixon said!”

“You cain’t just— you got no right—”

“I got every right, man, lemme tell you sumn’—”

Before Shane could ‘tell you’ much of anything, though, the two were rendered silent by the sound of tires on pavement close by. A halt, a tense moment, a car door swinging open and closed, and a whisper passed quickly from Rick to Shane as the two exchanged a look,

“You fucked up.”

You tried tilting your head up toward the windshield to sneak a look in its reflection, maybe see who was coming. You couldn’t make out a thing.

Then, presently, the voice of a much more hushed, humbler Officer Walsh as he spoke,

“Detective Dixon, how’s it—”

“Six bucks.” Another man, presumably Dixon, cut in.

“Huh?”

“Six bucks fer this fuckin’ coffee. Tastes like dirt.”

Oh, uh, yeah, you could just sense Shane shifting uncomfortably on his feet as he searched for the right words to say, maybe scratched his head once or twice. Fortunately for him, Rick came to the rescue.

“Tried that new place on Main, huh?”

“Nic and Norman’s, yeah. Eggs were runny as shit an’ the waitress kept callin’ me ‘Dale’,” the man, now presumably Dixon but not Dale, said in a huff.

It was as if you weren’t lying flat on your tummy with your top off and your hands cuffed behind your back. You stupidly hoped the new man hadn’t noticed you.

“Well who’ve we got here?”

Shit.

You heard footsteps approach, but you didn’t turn your head. Your lungs expelled a small, shaky breath as this detective came by and stood inches from your bent form.

“She and her friends were flashing their tits to the cars passing under the bridge,” Shane declared, a touch too smug as he said it, “The others got away, but this one was sweet enough to grace us with her presence.”

“Kicked me in the stomach and knocked me on my ass,” Rick added.

“Bit me, too.”

You heard a low tsk-tsk as the detective clicked his tongue. Took another sip of his mud-flavored espresso and shook his head above you. Your skin burned with the imprint of his gaze.

“Spring break come a little late this year?” he teased.

“Fuck you,” you muttered.

The men let out a collective chuckle at your tart words. You could just picture the smirks and sly glances shared between them as they watched you writhe against the hood of the police cruiser and try not to give them the satisfaction of seeing your breasts splayed out underneath you.

You were ashamed, admittedly, unsure of how to proceed with three cops at your rear and few options at your disposal besides swearing up a storm. At last, you decided to shift your gaze in their direction and shoot them a glare—more of an empty threat than any real message, but you didn’t care.

You turned and immediately wished you hadn’t.

Your heart leapt into your throat.

“Daryl?!”

This time, Rick and Shane were the only ones to laugh out loud, before quickly stifling the sounds when they realized their superior hadn’t shown a hint of amusement.

Daryl Dixon, the detective, and your brother’s best friend from college, stared down at you with a look of horror.

“Y/N,” he stammered, in shock.

It was clear he was trying with every fiber of his being not to look down at your tits, but his resolve was only so strong. Finally, he settled on looking away, fast, and staring off in the distance while you readjusted yourself.

“Been a minute,” he said, trying for a curt, awkward nod.

And a minute it had been. The last time you’d laid eyes on the man had been at a Christmas party hosted by your brother and his husband four years ago. You’d exchanged all of ten words in polite, drunken pleasantries, and he’d stumbled off at the end of the night with a gorgeous redhead dressed as Mrs. Clause. You hadn’t heard hide nor hair of him since.

For a moment, Rick’s eyes danced indeterminately between you two. Shane’s remained fixed on your face.

“You know this little hellion, Detective?”

Daryl cleared his throat.

“Yeah, uh, that’s— that’s Aaron’s little sister.”

“No shit?”

The words came out faster than Shane could think to stop them. Your hometown was no great metropolis, and even he knew of your brother through a friend-of-a-friend and several cousins’ babysitter’s grandma’s Aunt Carol, or some similar relation. He and Rick had probably partied at your lake house a couple times in college.

“Uncuff her.” Daryl’s voice had already lowered some, pacing away to give you privacy.

Shane obliged and freed you from the handcuffs. When you turned around, only the back of Daryl’s body was visible to you as he ducked inside the backseat of his car.

He returned a few moments later with a blanket. Tried his damndest not to let his vision stray an inch from your face as he handed it to you. Then he beckoned Rick over, and the two exchanged a few quiet words by his sedan.

“You got rabies or anything?�� Shane was eyeing the tiny crescent of teeth marks on his forearm.

You rolled your eyes.

“Worse. I’m one of those walkers.”

Shane gave you a look that conveyed he was just as annoyed but didn’t say anything more, even when you made a face at him. He just crossed his arms, leaned back against the squad car, and gritted his teeth. Before you knew it, Daryl and Rick were walking back.

“I’ll take her to the station,” Daryl said.

“Alri—”

“What?” you cried, “For what?!”

You knew for damn what. You just couldn’t believe your brother’s best friend wasn’t planning on giving you a family friend freebie of some kind.

Officer Walsh supplied an answer for you nonetheless, “Let’s see, now: public intoxication, public indecency, open container, and aggravated assault on two police officers. That clear things up, sweet cheeks?”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“Disorderly conduct, too,” Rick chimed in. Trying not to smile as he said it.

The only ones still not amused by anything this situation had to offer were you and Daryl. The detective looked positively pissed and ready to chuck his cup of coffee over the bridge, while you wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ether. The two of you exchanged a brief, uneasy look and quickly looked the other way.

Rick and Shane were already retreating to their cruiser. You just watched them, almost forlorn, and pretended not to see Daryl signaling for you to follow him.

“C’mon now,” he murmured.

“Can’t you just let me off with a warning?”

Daryl was treading closer to you now, hand outstretched in an almost gentle sort of gesture. Like he wasn’t about to cart you off to the slammer.

“Y’know I can’t do tha’,” he replied, “With all the fuss ya caused, Captain would have my head.”

When you wrenched your arm away from his grasp, you saw him frown.

“Hey,” Daryl said, a little more sternly now, “Don’t make this harder than it needs ta be.”

You watched him reach for you again.

Your first instinct was to shrug him off. Your second was to flee.

You weren’t sure why you even tried it—it just seemed like the right thing to do in the moment, like they did in the movies, to take off sprinting down the street. You gave it a shot.

Unfortunately for you, your feet didn’t carry you far, and Daryl had you snagged in his arms in about five seconds flat. You glanced to the first cop car and saw that Rick and Shane hadn’t even stirred from their seats. Just grinning and laughing at your attempted escape.

Detective Dixon had you by the bicep now, leading you toward his car with a little more force in his step. You were cursing, writhing, fighting every effort of his to corral you into the backseat, but, without much trouble, he pushed you in.

Rear doors locking automatically, you had little more to do than sit and pout and feel every bit the brat as Daryl buckled himself in and started the car.

“C’mon, Dar, this isn’t a joke. I could lose my job ‘cause of this,” you whined, threading your fingers through the wired metal barricade that separated you.

Daryl watched and waited for the other cruiser to fall behind him. Then he started off.

“Shoulda thought about tha’ before ya decided to show yer tits off ta the world, no?”

“Like four people saw us.”

In the rearview mirror, you could’ve sworn you saw a ghost of a smile cross Daryl’s lips.

“I got a pretty colorful phone call from a man named Eugene saying he saw three girls danglin’ half nekkid from a bridge tryin’ ta flag down a firetruck...Don’t sound all that discreet to me.” Daryl shrugged, pretending not to see you slump back in your seat.

“We were drunk!” you cried.

You threw your hands up and let them fall at your side, while Daryl made a wide left turn.

“So?”

“You’ve done plenty of dumb shit when you were drunk, Dixon. Don’t even start.” You raised your hand like you were talking to your mother as an angsty teen. The man in the driver’s seat hardly seemed fazed.

“Oh?”

You paused a beat, then jolted back up as an old memory stirred in your mind.

“Like— like the time you got so shitfaced on senior night that you stumbled into my room thinking it was the bathroom,” you said, hastily, “Pissed all over my floor.”

Daryl’s eyes darted up to meet yours in the mirror, sharing in that vague and ugly recollection from his college days.

“That was yer room?” he winced.

“I was twelve and terrified,” you said, hovering as close as the metal wall would allow you, “Didn’t even know what being piss-drunk meant until you decided to relieve yourself all over my Barbie rug.”

“Ah shit...I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Let me out and we’ll call it even?” you ventured.

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl said, shaking his head, “Not how that works.”

You balled your hand in a fist and struck the wall between you, an exasperated sigh escaping your lips. Try as you might to fight it, you were still slightly buzzed and far more prone to anger than you normally would be. Daryl gave you a look.

“Pipe down, princess, ‘s’ain’t the end of the world.”

“And who the fuck are you to say?” you snapped, clenching your jaw.

Daryl pressed a bit harder on the brakes as he brought the car to a stop at a red light. Then he shot a look over his shoulder. His brow drew in just slightly.

“Yer a real brat, ya know that?”

“Really, pig?” you sneered.

“Yeah, slut.”

Your mouth fell open at the sound of Daryl’s first real insult. He’d been all placid smiles and gentle eyes, never lapsing in the civility of his rank or his respect for you, his close friend’s sister, until that point. You watched as his gaze visibly hardened and moved away from yours, foot hitting the gas when the light turned green.

“What did you just call me?”

“A fucking slut. ‘Cause tha’s what ya are,” Daryl answered, not missing a beat.

Had he lost his fucking mind? Who did he think he was? The man carried on, starting to increase the car’s speed,

“Nobody’s showin’ off a pair’a tits that damn pretty ‘less they’re a whore, ya know?”

You sat back in awe, hardly aware of the cruiser’s growing acceleration, or the fact that Daryl was just then starting to turn down a road you—and Rick and Shane—had never seen before. You were too offended. Flustered.

“Excuse m—”

“Yeah, I looked. You’ve got an incredible rack, really,” Daryl admitted as he cut you off, “Too bad it’s attached to such a worthless little slut.”

“Get fucked, Dixon,” you hissed, beating your fist against the divider once more.

“Oh, believe me, we will.”

Your blood likely would’ve run cold in your veins if you had the first clue what he was talking about. What did he mean by ‘we’? Why had he started smiling when he’d said that?

Presently, you looked out the window.

Where the everliving fuck had he taken you?

Instead of finding yourself parked outside the King County Sheriff’s Department, as expected, you cast a sidelong glance to the left and the right and saw nothing but trees. Wilderness. You were parked in a clearing, at what appeared to be a campground...in a quarry?

You turned back to Daryl, suddenly rigid with fear.

The driver’s side door was already slamming shut behind him. Instead of deigning so much as a glance at the back, he strode right past you and went over to the car that had just pulled up. Rick and Shane appeared just as confused as you were as they came to a stop.

You watched them, dumbstruck, pulse pounding in your ears as a hundred different thoughts danced in your mind and grew progressively darker the longer you stared. Were they going to torture you? Kill you? Cuff you to the car and kick the living shit out of you until you bled from the mouth and begged them for mercy?

There was no way the drunken fratboy of your youth, now a detective on the police force and your brother’s best friend, would do something so heinous, right?

You slinked back in your seat when you saw all three men turn and approach your car.

Now, more than ever, there was no place but the police car you wanted to be as Daryl flung the back door open and stuck his head inside.

“Hey,” he grinned, “Wanna talk?”

Before you knew it, your feet were planted on the rocky terrain directly in front of Daryl’s car, and your hands were clasped together. Not cuffed this time—just folded and trying to look as polite and unassuming as possible.

“We’ve got a proposition,” Daryl started, steady.

You watched him pace back and forth while the two other officers stood back in silence. Shane wore the faintest smirk.

“You don’t wanna go to jail, right?”

You shook your head no.

“Good, ‘cause we don’t really feel like bookin’ ya,” Daryl continued, “Too much paperwork an’ all tha’ bullshit.”

You nodded along, slowly. Relieved to hear you weren’t getting arrested but waiting to see what the ‘But…’ was.

“But, y’know— it wouldn’t be fair to let ya go that easy.”

You kept nodding. Now looking at Shane and Rick and finding both of them smiling.

“So I say we make ourselves a deal. That okay with you, sugar tits?” Daryl sneered.

You balked at the name but swallowed your pride and answered, ‘Uh huh’ in a small voice. Squeezed your hands even tighter together.

Daryl approached you for the first time. You stood there, trembling, still thinking there was a chance that the three of them might just beat the hell out of you right then and there—and you flinched when Daryl lifted his hand to your cheek.

He brushed a few loose hairs from your face.

“I think you need to start by saying sorry.” His voice was almost serene.

You blinked a couple times up at Daryl with wide, oblivious eyes, shaking your head when you didn’t understand what he meant.

“To Shane,” Daryl added.

Softly, he tilted your chin toward his friend, who was grinning even bigger now.

You struggled for a second, opening and closing your mouth a couple times before stammering:

“I-I’m sorry, Shane.”

Your voice barely reached them in a whisper. You were so confused.

And, just as you started to wonder if that was all they really wanted, or if there’d be some other catch, Daryl decided to supply you with a wordless answer before you could even ask. The “catch” caught you right on the backs of your legs as Daryl gave them a gentle kick, causing both to buckle underneath you. You fell to the ground on your hands and knees and straightened yourself up just in time to see Shane make his leisurely approach.

“I’m sorry, Shane,” you spluttered again, thinking he just wanted you to grovel there in front of him.

Daryl and Shane exchanged looks. Then they smirked at you.

“I think Shane would rather you show him how sorry you are,” Daryl said, suddenly leaning over to collect two handfuls of hair behind your head, “With your mouth.”

At any other time, such condescension dripping from a man’s tone would have turned you off—and pissed you off—immediately. With Daryl and Shane standing over you now, the former’s fingers slotting through your hair and the latter’s working to unzip his pants, you couldn’t imagine yourself being any more aroused.

It hit you like a ton of bricks, all at once.

They were there to fuck you, not fight you.

At least not in the way you’d imagined anyway. No doubt Shane was keen to get his fill, and might be a tad more aggressive than the others to get it, but Daryl would make sure he didn’t push too hard. He held your head in place while Shane pulled out his cock.

And, you hated to say it, but your mouth was salivating for a taste. You couldn’t be bothered to look up at either man now, just soaking in the sight of Shane’s thick, veiny member and feeling your face being moved closer to it. Not minding you were being manhandled as a gentle moan escaped your throat.

“Wanna show Shane how sorry ya are? Show him how good tha’ slutty little mouth’a yers can make him feel?” Daryl hummed.

“She’s droolin’, man,” Shane said, hardening at the sight.

You were. You couldn’t help it. You felt a thumb swipe at the spit that had just begun to trickle out of your mouth and sensed Rick at your side, enthralled as all the rest of them. Then that same finger drifted down to your tits, smearing the moisture all over one nipple before pinching the peak between two digits.

Your lips parted with another small whimper at the sensation, and Shane took that as his window to thrust his cock in your mouth. Caught off guard, you couldn’t help but gag when his tip hit the back of your throat, but Daryl steered your head back just in time so you weren’t choking on that first, single stroke.

“Easy, easy,” Daryl chided his friend as he watched your eyes water and your hand reach up to steady yourself against Shane’s thigh.

“You kiddin’? She fuckin’ loves it,” Shane grinned, “Don’t you, slut?”

You licked your lips and nodded. Didn’t bat an eye when Shane brought the head of his cock back down to your lips, and you quickly enveloped him in an open-mouthed kiss of sorts. Shane groaned at the sensation and couldn’t help but rut his hips.

“Such a fuckin’ whore,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Daryl helped move your head up and down his length while you stared up at Shane with the prettiest, most fucked-out expression you could manage, and you felt his length twitch in your mouth. Daryl pulled you off.

“Now what do we say for kicking Officer Grimes, hm?”

Before you could answer, your face was tilted to the left, and you were met with the sight of Rick stroking his length at your side. A string of saliva still connecting your mouth to Shane’s cock, you looked up at the friendlier of the two officers and gave him a smile.

“I’m sorry, Officer Grimes.”

This time, Daryl let Rick take the reins, for a moment, and move your mouth over his shaft. You happily accepted him between your lips and started bobbing almost instantly. You relished the pleasure that flooded those soft blue eyes, the way they winced just a little when you took him to the back of your throat. Like he wanted to fuck your face but felt too overcome with some feeling or fear to give it a try.

You decided it was cruel to make a man so polite wait a second longer than he needed to. Presently, you pulled off Rick’s length with a gentle ‘pop’ and turned your head back over to Daryl.

“Can you please tell Officer Grimes to fuck my throat?”

All three of them froze for a second, taken back by the filth that had just come out of your mouth, still spoken so sweetly. You stroked Rick’s cock and pretended to be oblivious of what you saw. Deep down, you knew by the glint in their eyes they were yearning, lusting, fucking you in their minds with every innocent blink you made. You felt Daryl’s grip tighten in your hair.

“You heard the lady,” Shane said, words directed to Rick but gaze never leaving you.

Out of habit, his hand came to wrap around his own cock as he watched you take Rick’s. You glanced between the two of them, placed a quick kiss on the tip—first on Rick’s and then, to the men’s surprise, on Shane’s—and parted your lips when you moved back to Rick.

Officer Grimes didn’t hesitate this time. He leveled himself with your mouth and pushed all the way in. You started to moan, but the sound was audibly cut short by a spasm in your throat. Rick reached the back of your warm, wet orifice with ease and, going further than Shane ever went, actually slid down that space. Exactly how you wanted him. You bobbed your head and hummed to show your appreciation.

Encouraged by how eagerly you swallowed him and how quick your whimpers were to reverberate down his length, Rick moved his hips. Watched you gag once or twice and blink through a couple tears, before Daryl wiped the moisture away as Rick had done for your spit. You were every bit the pampered and primped fuckdoll in their hands, bobbing and licking and sucking him dry.

“Good girl,” Daryl murmured, massaging your scalp when you gagged again.

“Takin’ me so well,” Rick groaned as he fed you another inch.

Shane continued pumping his cock, grunting out expletives, and watching you all the while.

You pulled off of Rick for a moment. Whether it would piss them off or turn them on, you didn’t really care—but you reached up to Shane and replaced his hand with yours, before dropping a kiss over the head of his cock.

All three men seemed to love it. Especially Daryl.

Though he hadn’t made a move to get his own dick wet just yet, you got the sense the man loved to watch. Loved to see your mouth sliding up and down and swallowing more cock every time, thinking to himself what a nasty, filthy little whore you were and just waiting for the moment it would be his turn to claim your throat and the rest of your holes as his own. In the meantime, you wanted to give him a good show.

You jerked both Rick and Shane in either hand and chanced a look over at Daryl.

Locking eyes with him, you moved down over Rick and sucked half his length in your mouth. Then, just as quick, you took Shane between your lips and gave the tip a wet, spongy kiss before taking him to the back of your throat. The mound in Daryl’s pants grew even more pronounced.

“Hey,” Rick said, grazing your cheek with his knuckles, “Ain’t you gonna say sorry to Detective Dixon, too?”

You moaned against Shane’s throbbing length and made sure Daryl saw your tongue swirl over the tip. Teasing him now.

Presently, Shane pulled out of your mouth and grabbed hold of your hair.

“Gonna make him feel real good with that slutty little mouth’a yours, huh?” he growled.

You nodded and smiled. Wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and started crawling over to Daryl as soon as Shane let you go.

You couldn’t believe he’d waited this long—couldn’t believe you’d been sucking his friends dry all this time and hadn’t gotten so much as a glimpse at him. Daryl watched you with a comfortable, lopsided sort of smirk as you made your way over to him, clearly enjoying this view of you on all fours.

Not even a guillotine could take away the head you were about to give this man.

When you finally reached his knees and straightened up enough to reach for the zip of his brown slacks, you felt a hand catch you around the wrist. To your surprise, Daryl held you back and yanked you onto your feet.

“I wan’ my apology someplace else.”

That ‘place,’ you would come to learn, was simply on top of his car. Splayed out on the hood of his cruiser with your pants dragged all the way down to your ankles and kicked off at your feet. Daryl carried you there and stripped you down to your panties, leaving you all but naked and ogling him with keen, hungry eyes. Rick and Shane were quick to follow suit and seemed just as eager as you were to watch this scene unfold.

You reached for his clothed erection once more but found your hand swatted away.

“Nuh-uh,” Daryl shook his head.

You raised an eyebrow in question. You opened your mouth to speak but found yourself moaning instead when Daryl slipped a finger past your panties and between your folds. Somehow finding your clit quicker than you could even dream, he circled that tiny bundle of nerves with his thumb and teased the seal of your entrance with his middle and ring fingers.

You clawed at his wrist.

“But Dar— I-I wanna taste you so bad,” you pleaded.

Daryl grinned and plunged his two fingers deep inside you, holding your hip to the car to keep you from squirming. He nodded to Rick, who took that as his cue to press down on your other side. Together, they had you pinned to the hood and helpless under their touch.

Daryl curled his fingers up and caused you to moan.

“How bad?” he asked.

“So—” your voice broke off in a gasp when the pads of his fingers stroked your G spot, “So bad, Daryl, please.”

You could tell by the look in his eyes that he was savoring every second of this sight: you with your legs spread, begging and pathetic as he and Rick held you down. He probably would’ve liked to keep you there a little longer, maybe teased and fingerfucked you to the point of tears, but he got the sense that his friends weren’t possessed of quite the same patience. He’d just have to save the overstimulation for later.

Before you knew it, Daryl had given Rick another quick nod, released you from his hold, and pulled you off the car—before steadying you back on your feet, facing the vehicle.

Your hands flew out to catch yourself, but, before meeting metal, intercepted Daryl’s broad form instead. He took a seat on the front end of the car and caught you in both of his big, calloused palms.

“How ‘bout that taste, hm?” He was already starting to unbuckle his pants.

Finally. You promptly started to sink to your knees, when a light slap struck your cheek. You peeked up at its source and found Daryl shaking his head once more.

“Stay put,” he instructed as he started to pull his cock out of his boxers, “Rick’s gonna fuck tha’ slutty little cunt while ya suck me off, alright?”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a signal—and an effective one at that—to get Rick off his ass and hurrying to get behind yours. In the next second, you felt a set of warm, calloused hands on your hips and a tender grip tugging you back to meet someone’s crotch.

Your pussy twitched with the realization of your current predicament: bent over between the two men, with Daryl’s cock mere inches from your face and Rick’s member throbbing above your heat. Never once had an image like this materialized in your mind’s wildest fantasies, but now that you were here, stuck between these two with Shane just then drawing closer, you found yourself turned on to no end.

You parted your lips to allow Daryl entry when Rick teased the head of his cock up your slit. You took just the tip of Daryl, trying to stifle a moan, and the man behind you rubbed the length of himself up and down the seam of your cunt to collect all your juices. Another inch of Daryl in your mouth and you were whimpering with the feeblest look up at him, needing Rick inside you too.

Daryl held your gaze and ran a hand over your head.

“Little slut needs her pussy fucked, does she?”

You nodded, bobbing gently over Daryl’s member. You were just preparing to ease him in another inch or two when all of a sudden, the head of his cock jumped to the back of your throat as Rick thrusted into you.

It was far less gentle than you’d expected, sending you deep down Daryl’s length and causing you to gag. You hardly had time to adjust, or pull off of the man in front of you to catch your breath, when Rick started pounding you from behind. Rutting his hips, grunting in time with his thrusts, and slapping your ass in quick, ruthless hits. Daryl groaned above you as you had no choice but to deepthroat him again and again.

Shane, ever impatient, approached your free hand and guided it toward his erection. He wrapped your fingers around his cock and helped you stroke him quick, all while your mouth and pussy were presently occupied by Daryl and Rick’s sloppy thrusts.

“Ya like gettin’ spitroasted, huh? Like gettin’ fucked in two holes at once?” Shane sneered.

“Fuckin’ loves it,” Rick answered for you with a smirk, “Never seen a pussy this wet in my life.”

You imagined all of them could see and hear the arousal oozing from your freshly-fucked cunt, but you sensed no one liked it better than Daryl. The man was entranced with the sight of your form getting fucked from behind, sucking him deeper, looking up through your wet, tear-stained lashes as you let him fuck your face. That pure euphoric look in his eyes was almost like a drug—you wanted nothing more than to keep it there as long as you could.

Mere minutes later, Rick’s hips were stuttering against your own and his cum was spraying all over your insides. You didn’t stop sucking Daryl.

Shane gladly switched places with Rick and took a greedy handful of your hips before pumping his cock once or twice. You flattened your tongue against Daryl’s member and took him even further down your throat.

The man behind you was panting, right about to breach your folds when a sight below him held him in place.

Rick’s load was just then starting to dribble out of your pussy, leaving a long white trail of milky residue down your slit.

Shane clenched his jaw.

“Still hungry for more, slut?” he said through gritted teeth. To your surprise, you felt his fingertips trace the outline of your cunt and start moving up toward your other hole.

He was coating your asshole with Rick’s cum, grinning when you flinched.

“Think she’s ever been fucked in the ass before?” Shane asked the others. He slipped a digit inside your hole and watched you moan on Daryl’s dick.

Daryl pulled you off his cock and held you by your hair, your mouth saturated with strings of fresh saliva.

“Have you?”

You swallowed and shook your head. Daryl didn’t let his gaze linger on you another second. He signaled to Rick.

“Right there,” he pointed with his chin.

You hardly knew what was going on or where Rick had hastened off to. All you could comprehend was the gruff tone of Daryl’s voice telling you to get up, now, and the feel of Shane’s hands still holding you, guiding you back to your feet. When you didn’t move fast enough for his liking, Shane simply swept you up in his arms bridal-style and started carrying you himself.

Over his shoulder, you spied Daryl and Rick exchanging words and the latter placing the blanket you’d worn earlier on the ground. You almost felt tempted to ask Shane what they were planning to do, just starting to speak, when the man brought you over to the spot and set you right down.

The three of them had you circled in an instant.

Before the question could even form on your lips, you watched Daryl join you on the blanket. His smirk was evident.

He patted his lap for you to come straddle him.

When he started to lie down, your hands followed suit, eager to rest on either side of his chest, but another touch held you back. Behind you, Shane had grabbed hold of your hair and turned your head to face him.

“Spit,” he ordered, holding his hand under your chin.

You did as you were told and watched him rub your spit all over his shaft, before bringing his hand up to your face again and repeating his command.

At the same time, Daryl had lifted his hips and was guiding you closer to his cock. Your gaze moved down, then up, then over at Rick with a look of confusion, only to dart back to Daryl when you felt him split you open with a single thrust.

You had just been impaled on Daryl’s cock, mind reeling at the stretch and sensation, when you felt two fingers slip between your legs from behind. Daryl gripped your face and brought it down to his—wouldn’t let you look over your shoulder as the other man’s hand started to traverse the contour of your ass.

You were pulled in for a kiss as Daryl bottomed out inside you. Tongue hardly able to keep up with his as moans and whimpers went bubbling up in your throat, you just sat there, straddled him, and let him use your pussy any way he pleased. He snapped his hips and groaned your name between your lips, while the hand that was prodding you from behind finally reached its intended destination.

You yelped into Daryl’s mouth the second you felt a full, hefty finger slip inside your ass. Officer Walsh, no doubt.

The two men at your rear all but moaned as your tight little hole contracted around Shane’s finger and Daryl continued to pound you from below. It was odd, that sharp, disparate feeling of Daryl’s cock drilling your pussy while Shane’s digit pumped a much slower pace in your ass. Your senses had kicked into overdrive, and you couldn’t keep from showing your pleasure with every sound that you made.

Shane withdrew just long enough to add another finger, smearing a mixture of cum, spit, and your own juices all over your walls for lubrication. You sensed him moving closer, when Rick grabbed hold of his shoulder.

“Give her a minute,” he muttered.

Shane scoffed, shaking him off.

“Little whore looks plenty ready to me,” he retorted as he eyed your slick, sensitive hole.

Suddenly, your throat was clasped in Shane’s big hand and your head pulled tight against his chest. He had taken his cock in his other hand and was angling his length just right to press the head between your cheeks. Daryl had slowed almost completely.

“C’mere.” Daryl beckoned you closer with a tender look. When you leaned down to lay flat on his chest, he smiled, stroked your hair, “Jus’ hold on ta me, alright?”

Your walls were already squeezing his cock like a vice and your fingernails making white-hot crescents in his shoulders—you couldn’t hold him tighter if you tried—but you nodded. You let him kiss you again, felt a little more fit to take his tongue this time, and eased down along his shaft until you were filled to the brim with nothing but him.

That last part changed as soon as Shane thrust into your ass.

You jolted forward and instinctively tried to pull off his cock, but Daryl held you tight. Brushed a few stray strands of hair from your face and started peppering your skin with kisses the louder you whimpered.

“Doin’ so good for us, baby— takin’ our cocks so well,” he cooed in your ear.

You whined at the fierce burn between your legs as both Daryl and Shane pushed inside you. Rough fucking was one thing, but being penetrated in both holes simultaneously while sandwiched between two men just brought the sensations to entirely new heights. You clawed at Daryl’s shoulders and damn near sunk your teeth straight through your bottom lip.

“Good girl,” the man below you mumbled as he watched your face contort in a medley of pleasure and pain, “Tha’s my good girl.”

“Fuckin’ whore,” Shane spat, shoving his cock even deeper. Clearly not one for tender anal training.

Now it was Daryl going slow and sweet, just barely stirring his cock inside you while Shane slapped your ass and yanked your hips over his own. You saw Rick’s previously-deflated cock grow hard in his hands, and you proceeded to watch him watch you as he stroked himself a few feet away.

You needed another distraction. You caught Rick’s eye and simply licked your lips in silent invitation. He was filling your mouth in a matter of seconds.

With three cocks pumping in and out of you, you felt every bit the fucked-out brat you knew they’d wanted to claim. Your brain had all but melted to mush in their hands, your body manhandled and fucked every which way while your thoughts yielded, in turn, to pure anoesis.

There was something unusually freeing about being a living, breathing fuckdoll for these three King County cops. You couldn’t get enough.

Rick pulled his dick out of your mouth just long enough to slap you with it.

“This what ya needed?” he teased, tapping the head of his cock on your spit-painted cheeks, “A good fucking in all your holes to make you behave?”

You stuck out your tongue and tried to nod, your body still shaking with every thrust from Daryl and Shane. Instead of pushing back in, Rick simply rubbed his cock all over your face and shot you a look that was soaked to the core with condescension. Somewhere below, Daryl began toying with your clit.

You sucked in a breath between broken moans and clenched harder around both men inside you.

“Think she wants a switch,” Rick grinned.

In a minute, you felt yourself hoisted back up—Shane pulling out and Daryl rising swiftly to his feet. Two sets of hands helped maneuver your body to a position you’d never tried, never even seen before as your legs hooked over either one of Daryl’s arms and your ass was thrust back. Then, to your relief, it was Rick at your rear this time, rubbing his tip along your red and stretched out hole while your head came to rest on his shoulder.

You were pressed between the men once more and cradled comfortably in their arms. Daryl took care not to rut into you too hard while Rick was still coating your arousal across the hole Shane had just fucked raw.

“Shh, shh,” Rick’s lips dropped close to your ear while he pressed a wet finger inside, trying to relubricate the area.

You wiggled and squirmed, a bit too sensitive to keep still at this point, so Shane reached in and took you by the throat.

“Hold still,” he snapped. Stroking himself with his free hand.

You watched his eyes drift down to the spot where he’d just been, where Rick was trying to squeeze into, and felt the first real twinge of bliss when you felt the head of his cock tease your entrance. This was softer, even sweet. Paired with Daryl’s extra slow thrusts and the sounds all three were making as you spread your legs even wider, you first became aware of a knot in your tummy.

When the warmth of your ass enveloped just the tip of him, you felt it constrict even tighter.

Rick let out a groan and struggled to keep from thrusting too hard. Shane tightened his grip on your neck.

“C’mon now, sugar tits, don’t act like you ain’t just—”

“Shane,” Daryl growled.

Rick didn’t stop. You squeezed both cocks and moaned.

“I’m just sayin’ if the slut could fit my cock in and—”

“Fuck,” Rick hissed.

You were bouncing in between them now, head lolled back on Rick’s shoulder and hand pressed flush against Daryl’s chest. Steeped in pleasure as they stood and fucked you stupid.

Shane continued to tug his cock and stare you down with hungry, possessive eyes.

Daryl’s moans turned to shallow grunts while Rick’s breath fanned soft across your cheeks in ragged breaths. You writhed and you grinded between their two bodies, too lost in your own ascent to pleasure to sense anything else. Your skin was wet with a sheen of sweat and both holes all but soaked between the two men. Their cocks plunging in and out at a vicious pace until the coil in your stomach was nearly starting to ache.

“Feelin’ good?” Rick hummed in your ear.

“Gettin’ close?” Daryl joined.

Shane’s hand closed around your throat until your lungs could scarcely breathe and your vision blurred with stars. Making one last strangled moan, you rolled your hips and felt something taut and tight and blisteringly hot break loose across your abdomen—and not just the ropes of cum shooting deep inside you.

Alongside that tiny eruption came a blitz of pleasure unlike anything you’d ever felt before. Your body went haywire, every square inch of your skin alight with ecstasy and your mind going numb in a surge of bliss. You moaned and felt the walls of both holes spasm desperately over Daryl and Rick alike, and suddenly, something far beyond your control seemed ready to tear your body in two.

A beat of silence. Your consciousness gradually returned.

When you opened your eyes, the first thing to grace your sight was Daryl’s shining face, grinning ear to ear with the happiest expression.

You blinked and watched him closer.

As your vision adjusted and the world came clearer into view, you caught a glimpse of what seemed to have stretched Daryl’s smile so wide—and what had made his features so unusually luminous in this light.

Your eyes widened.

Daryl glanced to Rick, then Shane.

“Who knew she’d be a squirter?”

Presently, your juices were coating Daryl’s face and chest, having spurted straight from your cunt in the throes of climax and spraying all over his front.

Your pussy still clenched and convulsed as the cum from either man went seeping out of both holes.

Even Shane was left speechless, having just milked the last of his own release and watched you come undone in near-pornographic fashion. His chest was still heaving, blinking in disbelief and exchanging sly looks with Daryl and Rick every now and then. Rick pressed a kiss to your shoulder and smiled.

And, just when it seemed any one of you were liable to break that spell of silence with a laugh, the rattle of radio feedback startled you all.

Somewhere amidst the articles of clothing strewn around you, a walkie talkie clipped to one officer’s belt rang loud with the sound of a voice from a neighboring county’s dispatcher.

“All available units, high-speed pursuit in progress— Linden County units request local assistance. Highway 18 eastbound, GTA, ADW, 2-17, 2-4-3. Advise extreme caution.”

All three men stood to attention. Daryl and Rick lowered you quickly to the ground while Shane went scrambling for his clothes.

“Suspects are two male Caucasians. Be advised they have fired upon police officers. One Linden County officer is wounded.”

“Shit!” Rick hissed.

“Unit 1, unit 3, to eastbound Route 18. Two miles west of Interstate 85. Will patch in Linden County sheriff radio.”

“Is tha’—” Daryl started.

“We need to go,” Shane interrupted.

Another voice broke out over the line,

“Roger that. We’re five minutes south of the Route 18 intersection.”

Daryl tossed you what garments of yours he could find and snatched your arm in a breakneck haste. Before you could so much as slip your shirt over your head, though, you found yourself carted back over to his squad car and pushed toward an open door.

“What’s—”

“I’ll explain on the way.”

For reasons you couldn’t yet understand, you knew this call didn’t bode well for any of you. You took one last look at Officer Grimes and felt a twist in your stomach.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon one shot #daryl dixon imagine #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #rick grimes smut #shane walsh smut #rickyl

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beaversatemygrandma · 2 years

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I’ve been driving a lot more often lately for log-time-reasons for finally getting my damn license. And uh. Does anybody else get this thing where your eyes have trouble focusing on things after driving for like 30min? Bc holy shit. I stepped out into the store parking lot and i was seeing two of things like i was cross-eyed and had trouble getting back to single vision until I got home.

#taks speaks #starting to wonder if there's something wrong with my eyes other than bad vision and astigmatism #bc wow. this keeps happening and i wonder how many problems this will cause me #will i even be able to drive to FL? idk. I'm hoping i can bc that's a drive i'm gonna make Often #everything i try to research on it is like 'truckers often have eye strain issues after doing nothing but drive for 20hrs'#and im just here like. it was 30 min. my eyes hurt. WHY #something something eye strain comes from moving your eyes at high speeds etc etc #yes. yes. i understand that. but 30MINUTES.#ik i have shit peripheral (glasses tbh) but come on.#*sighs* what tf is wrong with my eyeballs

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5thdistrict · 2 years

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Sometimes I feel like my wheels aint touching the ground

#1 #trucker speed #vacation

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where-does-the-heart-lie · 1 year

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Grand Line Crew Modern Au Gang!

i hope yall enjoy, this took a while to get all together, here

ASL post

East Blue Crew post

Friends we made along the way 1 post

Friends we made along the way 2 post

i dont have many additional headcanons for this lot, but i did write a short story with them :) enjoy

Brook only wears the absolute grooviest of clothing at all times.

That’s just gonna have to be there 👆 tumblr likes to glitch out my posts.

Dont give chopper caffeine. He’ll either have a heart attack or operate on 5x speed, its a gamble every time.

robin and franky love watching home improvement shows, house hunters, how its made, myth busters, and other technical shows together.

When Luffy shows robin memes on his phone, she takes out her reading glasses and holds the phone like a mom does. Ya know that squint. You know.

Jinbei used to be a trucker and had a convoy with s bunch of his truckin’ buddies. They had matching leather jackets with “the sun truckers” embroidered on the back

Franky has a wig closet. It is vast. If you went in there you'd think you were in Narnia or something

Chopper is BEYOND CONVINCED that Sabo is a vampire.

One day, sabo volunteered as an assistant in a medical class chopper was taking. He was acting as chopper’s patient as he was learning the patient procedures of a checkup.

It was all going fine, chopper got all the patient identification out of the way and next was to acquire blood pressure, breath count, and heart rate. But the stethoscope and pressure monitor wasn’t working, and it make it seem like Sabo,,, didnt have a pumping heart,, or blood,,, or really breathed at all(he doesnt take very visible breaths).

Chopper was stricken with fear at this and assumed the absolute worse as he looked in horror at Sabo’s naturally pale complexion and long canine teeth. Chopper simply jotted down the average count of each recording instead of getting new equipment, and tried not to think about it, but

“huh, all of those numbers are usually lower than that. Maybe all that Special Concoction™ i drink is finally catching up to my heart rate.”

“how much have you.. drunk?”

“like for today? Or since I woke up.”

Chopper is fucking horrified. Sabo woke up to being a vampire and drinks blood as a special concoction. He cannot believe this.

”Never mind, I don't need to know, its all normal, you're normal.”

“Wow… that's the first time a medical practitioner has called me normal. My brothers are gonna get a real kick outta this.”

CHOPPER IS FUCKING HORRIFIED. HE HAS BRETHEREN??? Chopper just keeps his head down and finishes up the check up practice as Sabo remarks he has another class in the blood bank, which was lemon in the paper cut for chopper.

For a month or so after that day, Chopper didn’t see Sabo at all, and he forgot about his fear for a little while. However one night as chopper was hanging with Luffy and a few others in the straw hat friend group, there was a knock at the door. Chopper happily said “I’ll get it~” as the rest of the group continued in conversation.

Chopper skips over to the door and when he opens it, he sees the figure of Sabo standing in front of him. Tall and opposing, smiling a big toothy grin with bright blue eyes shining from the overhead lighting. He’s wearing a long trench coat with the collar popped and an ascot was wrapped around his neck.

What chopper was seeing before him.

Was the vampire.

He let out a scream right out of a horror film and promptly fainted.

A minute or two later, he awoke laying on the couch, feet elevated and vest unbuttoned, to his friends looking at him from the foot of the couch.

He goes to stand up, but a strong gloved hand stops his movement and guides him back down

“Don't get up too quickly, little man.”

Chopper looked next to him and saw The Vampire. What was he doing in his house?!?!?

“Are you alright, bud? You opened the door for me, screamed in my face, and then passed out.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Chopper said with the highest voice-crack to word ratio in his entire life.

“Right. Well again, dont get up too quickly, if you need water or anything let your friends know. I just came here to pick up Luffy cuz some family stuff came up. Have a good night!”

“…you too, and thanks for taking care of me…”

“No prob!”

“One last question?” Inquired chopper.

“What's up?”

“Did someone invite you in?”

the end

PS: Sabo's "special concoction" consists of Red Bull and Espresso. He hasn't slept in 72 hours. This will have lasting effects on his health.

thats all for now! thanks for reading~

#i am constantly delighted at how “crew” rhymes with “AU”#my art #one piece #one piece fan art #tony tony chopper #chopper #nico robin #cyborg franky #soul king brook #jinbe #one piece modern au #op modern au

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neopuppy · 1 year

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I Hit It Like It’s All Mine (M)

pairing. Johnny x female reader

genre. best friends step-mom AU, besties johnjae, college graduate Johnny, pwp, M/F

warnings. profanity, infidelity, y/n is older than Johnny, alcohol mentioned, teasing, overstimulation, breeding kink, rough & unprotected sex, degradation/praise. idk ily Johnny.

wc. 10k

now playing. All Mine//Plaza

Week 1

“Oh,” Jaehyun slams down on the brakes, speaking over the rubble of rocks and engine shutting off. “I should probably mention something important about my step-mom.”

Johnny lets out a confused laugh, pushing his sunglasses up to headband the mess speeding down the coast made of his long locks. “Gee, we’ve been flying and driving for how many hours now? Suddenly you decide this important information is something you need to tell me right before I meet her for the first time?”

Jaehyun shrugs, running a hand through his hair full of mucky sea breeze. “Didn’t want you to hound me about this on the way, I know how you are.”

“I know how you are as well, Jeong Jaehyun.”

“When we’re home, I prefer Jeffrey, dude.” His best friend sneers, exiting the convertible he had to beg his dad to let him rent for a few weeks while vacationing at their beach house.

“Sure Jeff, now please, spare me the details and catch me up on this vital info before I have to pretend your dad isn’t a complete dick with an amazing pool and view of the beach for the next three weeks.” Johnny chides, hauling out a surfboard from the backseat.

“Right right, well my step-mom,” Jaehyun feigns a lack of interest, pulling a trucker hat on to tame his unruly hair. “She’s hot, like.. like she’s really really hot.”

Johnny has to laugh, pausing with a crease between his eyebrows. “You dirty fucking pervert.”

Jaehyun gives him a look, lips tugged back in a way he only displays when he wants to be taken serious. “I’m being real right now man, she’s like..”

Scratching at the back of his neck, Jaehyun’s shoulders slouch, shaking his head at his best friend. “Just be careful dude.”

“Jaehyun—Jeffrey, whatever, what the fuck dude?” Johnny’s face furrows, following after his friend to enter through the back of the house. “You think I’m gonna try to fuck your step-mom or some shit?”

Jaehyun spares him an annoyed look, tossing his backpack onto his bed before flopping onto his stomach with a groan. “Yeah, I think you’re going to try and fuck my step-mom.”

“Have some faith in me dude,” Johnny bristles, lugging his belongings into his best friend's summertime bedroom he hasn’t seen in years. “Should let me sleep on the floor still, you know whenever we come back too late. Don’t want your sexy step-mom finding me drunk off my ass in the hallway— I’m irresistible, you know?”

“Yeah, you really had no reason to keep growing past 5’10. Thanks for leaving me behind, good looking out as always.” Jaehyun grumbles, perching his chin onto his forearm uncomfortably as memories flash across the backs of his eyelids. The last time he’d asked his friend to not fuck a girl had been Senior year of high school, and that didn’t end well for him.

Jaehyun’s throat clears, sitting up with the sudden urge to down a gallon of water. “Remember Sabrina? That transfer I had uh— a thing for our last year of high school?”

Johnny snorts, fingering a polaroid of his teenage-self between two digits. “You mean that blonde you had a fat crush on? Yeah, of course I remember her… great legs.”

“I thought so.” Jaehyun sighs, eyeing his best friend with a scheming gaze. “Whatever happens, I just don’t want to find out. Alright?”

“Dude chill,” Johnny rolls his eyes, opening up the walk-in closet he spent a few blurry nights passed out in. “Let’s get a quick swim in before the sun goes down, yeah?”

Jaehyun lets out an exhausted grunt, muffled and distant, burying his face deeper into freshly laundered bedsheets. “Pass.”

“Boo, you whore.” Johnny jeers, stripping down to nothing as he fiddles with different pairs of swim trunks in search of his size. “Have to make the best of every day here.”

Without bothering to waste more time, he shuffles into much too small flip flops to avoid unpacking his belongings. “I’ll be back.” Cracking a beach towel across Jaehyun’s back, Johnny lightly jogs back out the way they entered, sighing in relief as cool thick air flows across his skin.

Something about summers at the beach growing up always brought comfort back when he needed it. Trudging through the sand with a towel slung over his shoulder, Johnny smiled watching his toes get lost in the midst of granules, chalked up by the residue painting it’s way up past his ankles the more he kicked through. His grin only grew wider when he lifted his gaze to peer around the expanse of space still filled with locals, vacationers, bums and best of all— girls sliding their frames down for a better look at him.

Johnny laid out his towel near the water, just close enough to run in and dose himself in salty waves within seconds, but to avoid any possible high-tide crashing beyond his feet. Letting out a loud obnoxious yawn, he stretches out, allowing the sunglasses holding back his hair to fall into place and shield his eyes. It felt nice to lean back, purposely flexing his stomach muscles under the low sunlight and picking up the whispered hush of gasps and girlish vocals asking ‘who is he?’

Scratching under his chin, he glances around casually, tinted shades disclose well enough to admire oiled up bottoms basking in the sun. If all goes right, he should be getting his dick wet at least five times a week while staying out here. That should be a good enough way to melt off the weight of pre-med stress. Johnny’s tongue clicks, reminding himself to stop thinking about school. The future doesn’t matter right now, his decision to spend a large portion of break with Jaehyun boiled down to one thing and one thing only: getting laid.

‘California girls,’ Jaehyun sang, winking at his friend as he coerced him to purchase his flight. ‘They’re unforgettable.’

Johnny scoffs a bit at the memory, internally nodding as he takes in breasts bouncing beneath barely there bikini tops. He has a point, or Katy Perry did, whoever the hell sang that song. Nights fucking under lifeguard towers, running into the ocean butt naked under nothing but moonlight, slurping melted ice cream off dips and crevices sugary sticky syrup should never be. After months bundled up under thick layers and jackets with his face buried in research papers and endless cups of black coffee, he needed this more than ever. Jaehyun could tell, leave it to his best friend to know what's best for him.

Johnny decides it’s time for a quick swim, shoving up and dusting off sand from his backside, he strolls ahead pausing in his tracks when he sees something that catches his attention.

“My board?”

Johnny squints and shakes his head, blinded by sun cascading behind the figure sitting on top of the familiar surfboard. Turning his foot he moves closer for a better look, jaw loosening as the bright shadow diminishes, unveiling skin… tons of skin. His lip curls, noting the letter ‘J’ he etched into the edge of the board when he was 15, his board, not Jaehyun’s.

‘What difference does it make if I use your board or not?’

‘This is my baby, you can’t ride my baby.’ Johnny said, smoothing a wax down the body of wood with a rag. ‘How would you feel if another man was out there riding your girl?’

Jaehyun sneered, kicking sand at his best friend. ‘How many times have I asked you to not ride my girl and you do it anyway?’

‘Fine,’ Johnny scooped out his pocket knife, digging the sharp edge of it into the wood to carve out his initial. ‘This way, everyone knows who she belongs to.’

Jaehyun leaned over watching as the taller smirked proudly, breaking into a boisterous laugh. ‘You idiot, both of our names start with J.’

Johnny watched Jaehyun fall back into the sand clutching his stomach, twisting his mouth to the side because he just branded his baby for no good reason.

‘Ugh, just stay off my board dude!’

“The fuck..” Johnny watches intently as you emerge from the water, obscene droplets of water rolling off your thighs. “Nice board.”

He speaks before registering how close he’s come to stand near you, catching splashes of your hair across his chest as you wring out the sea water. “Thanks.”

Johnny wants to scoff, too caught up in the way you drop his beloved surfboard down by your feet carelessly. He wants to give you attitude, raises his voice at you for handling his baby so poorly, but he can’t, he can’t with his tongue hanging from his mouth like a thirsty dog.

“You’re beautiful.” His mouth feels dry already, swallowing mucky air down as he takes in your form and wonders how you managed to surf his board in that tiny string bikini leaving barely anything to imagine.

“Thanks.”

Again, you sound bored, not even sparing him a glance while throwing your hair around to air dry, and Johnny thinks it’s amusing. More amusing than any of the girl’s lined down the beach desperate for him to approach them instead.

“That board is a little too big for you, don’t you think?” Johnny cocks an eyebrow, head tilted to the side, tongue rimming his bottom lip to add action behind his condescending tone. “Just started surfing yesterday or something?”

“Hah..” finally you look at him, moreso glare at him, an equally snarky expression to match his written across your face. “What makes you think I can’t handle a board this big?”

Johnny pauses, taking in your features from the confidence in your gaze to your unblemished skin and lips that would look perfect struggling around his cock, and he thinks you’d be fun to ruin. Already dreaming of the hundreds of ways he could erase that cockyness from your pretty face. “You don’t really look like you can handle riding one that size.”

Clearing your throat, you bend over, ensuring a perfect view of your bottom perched between lycra cloth squeezing the fleshy meat out enticingly. Lifting the board under your arm with ease and a flip of your hair. “Now why would a little boy like you think you have a damn clue what I can handle?”

Johnny trails by your side, scrunching his eyebrows when you call him a little boy. “I’m 6’1!”

“No shit,” smiling, you brush him off with a wave of your hand. “Now shoo! Go find someone closer to your age to bother.”

“My age??” Johnny guffaws, too immersed in the way you’re dismissing him to even notice the direction you’re headed. “Uh, in case it’s not obvious— we’re definitely like the same age?”

“Doubt it.” Spinning quickly, you nearly knock him off his feet with a fierce hit from the tip of your surfboard. “Now go play with your toys before I call security and tell them you’ve lost your mommy.”

“I’m twenty-seven!” Johnny splutters, telling himself to ignore the coil in his gut lighting up from your threat. “And that’s my board!”

Akin to a petulant child, he reaches to grip around the wooden body to drag it free from your hold. The two of you going back and forth in a match of tug-o-war for no more than a minute between huffs and puffs and shrieks of ‘let go! I’m calling security!’ before the deep shout of his name distracts him enough to abruptly release his hold and send you crashing into the sand flat on your ass.

“Dude! Johnny what the hell!” Jaehyun runs from the front of his dad’s house, jumping over the pebbles lining the pathway of sand leading to the entrance. Hurling into his friend's chest, he knocks the wind out of Johnny and reaches to help you up, blabbering apologetically as the surfboard lays near you unceremoniously.

“Jaehyun?” You ask, latching onto his forearm to stand up and brush sand off your damp backside. “I thought you were coming in later?”

“Huh?” Johnny(ready to pounce on his friend) pauses and looks between the two of you, slowly glancing around in realization that you’ve walked up to his home for the next few weeks.

Jaehyun explains they ended up catching an earlier flight and hit no traffic, apologizing for being forgetful and not informing you ahead of time. “This..”

He points to the tall brunette that followed you home, letting out a disappointed sigh. “This is Johnny.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah,” Jaehyun nods, motioning between the two of you. “And this— is my step-mom.”

“Oh.” Johnny gulps, convincing himself that his cheeks are burning because of the warmth from the sun and not because of embarrassment, no, not because Jaehyun was right.

“See how I was right,” his friend leans in to mumble, patting Johnny on the shoulder. “Sorry if he was already bothering you.”

“Ahh, it’s okay. I think we got off on the wrong foot.” You say, pulling the board back up and tracing the carving. “I assumed this was Jaehyun’s before, my mistake.”

Jaehyun chuckles, nudging into Johnny’s side. “You see how that made no difference.”

“Shut up.” He mumbles under his breath, following the two of you inside, not without wiping off your limbs near the entrance. Quickly pulling on a too big zip up jacket to cover up in front of your new house guests.

“I had your dad’s assistant buy some of your favorites.” You call out, moving to the kitchen for a glass of water. “Fully stocked the fridge with cold brew and those Celsius drinks you like.”

Johnny follows behind, keeping his gaze set on the floor in hopes you’ll forget his lame attempt at flirting just minutes ago. “Don’t know what your friend likes, but we can order food if you guys are hungry?”

Jaehyun shrugs, grabbing two water bottles. “Sounds good, we aren’t picky. Whatever you want to eat we’ll be fine with.”

“Burritos?” You ask between sips of water, flicking to look between the two for approval. Jaehyun nods with a thumbs up, sliding one of the bottles in front of Johnny.

“Sounds yum.”

“Great!” Bouncing onto your toes you place an order on your phone and ask for Jaehyun to keep an ear open for the doorbell. “I’m gonna hop in the shower and rinse off real fast, feel free to get comfortable. The guest rooms all cleaned up and ready for you as well.”

Smiling in Johnny’s direction on your way out of the kitchen, you add a wink, as if to reassure him that you won’t bring up your beach banter again.

Jaehyun waits until he can hear the water running from your bathroom shower, breathily laughing and relaxing back into the chair near his friend's side. “You were trying to fuck her, weren’t you?”

“She had my board.” Johnny says, pretending to care more about scratching off the label on the water bottle melting in his palm.

“And you were trying to fuck her because of that?”

Johnny’s jaw clenches, ripping off the label and crumbling the paper between his fingers. “Just wanted to know why she had my board… She called me a little boy.”

Jaehyun laughs, knowing that must have pushed some buttons. “She’s older than us, not by much but.. surprisingly my dad actually remarried someone older than me.”

Johnny hums, taking a long swig from the bottle to woosh around his tongue. Mouth still dry from embarrassing himself. “So that’s your step-mom.”

“Yup.” Jaehyun’s lips smack, popping as the ‘P’ rolls off his tongue. “By the way, my dad won’t be around, some business deal in Dubai for the next few weeks.. Old bastard didn’t even bother to mention it. He’s already sky-high with his feet kicked up in Emirates first class.”

“So..” Johnny nods, playing with the bottle cap nervously. “It’s just the three of us.”

Jaehyun sighs, crushing up his empty bottle. “Yeah. It’s just the three of us.”

Meeting his best friend’s gaze, a silent exchange of words passes between the two. The small raise in Jaehyun’s eyebrow let Johnny know his thoughts without saying anything.

“I don’t want to know anything.” Jaehyun repeats quietly, getting up at the sound of the doorbell.

Johnny’s lips purse, hunching over onto the counter in thought. Maybe his original summer plans needed a few alterations, tapping the tips of his fingers against the marble counter, he wondered how much talk you were.

One way to find out.

Week 2

Paint fumes spill through the air conditioning vent, penetrating the guest rooms walls much too early to make sense. Johnny sniffs, squinting and groaning as his knuckles drag across his eyelids and he kicks at the sheet covering his lower half. “Fuck is that?”

It hasn’t been the most peaceful week, not quite, his own words of having to make use of each day coming back to bite him in the ass as Jaehyun shouted at him to get ready for another long night of bar hopping and club after club. Johnny realized after the second day of slamming shots that while his 22 year old self would have laughed at him, his present day self was in need of a porcelain bowl to drown his night of fun inside of.

“Ugh, I’m gonna throw up,” he mutters to himself, rolling side to side in bed miserably. The strong scent of paint more acidic than it should be as it mixed with vile poison left in his system from last night.

“That’s because you won’t eat greasy food after drinking dumbass.” Jaehyun says by his bedroom door with shades on inside and a cold brew in hand. “Mr. Healthy would rather suffer and stick to his diet.”

“Ughh.” Johnny fails to chuck a pillow at his friend, mumbling a string of curses.

“I left some medicine and orange juice on the nightstand.” Jaehyun lets him know. “Already ate breakfast, need fresh air, gonna take a stroll down to the pier. You coming?”

Johnny doesn’t bother to grace him with a real response, waving an arm behind to signal for him to go away. The other snorts, mumbling a ‘weak ass’ under his breath before exiting.

Minutes pass before he finally forces himself to crawl off the bed, dragging the sheet wrapped around his hip off as he scatters to collect the anti-nausea pills and cup of pulp-free OJ, that good rich people OJ from Whole Foods, he thinks. Typical Jeong household, nothing but the best.

Johnny slumps against the bed watching the room spin for a minute in an attempt to recall what happened last night.

‘Shots! Shots! Shots!’ Jaehyun kept howling in his ear, slamming wads of fifty dollar bills down on the bar as he ordered another round. ‘Who wants to do body shots!!’

Johnny sighs, having forgotten what a woo woo party girl his best friend could turn into after cracking open a bottle of Tequila. This is Jaehyun’s influence, egging him on with a whispered ‘pussy’ in his ear as he stared at the round of clear vengeful liquid ready to burn his esophagus. “Damn you Jeff.”

Another whiff of paint has chunks rising up his throat, charging up to the nearest bathroom to release the blacked out memories of last night. Johnny splashes his face, rinsing his mouth thoroughly until his teeth slick right off his tongue, shining pearly whites and burning from the amount of mouthwash he gargles to remove the taste. “No more drinking, you’re not 21 anymore.”

Stepping into the hallway, Johnny squints from the smell of paint growing stronger, following the trace of it down the hall to an open door where you bounce about barefoot in a pair of dirtied overalls and what looks like a bikini top. This one less revealing than the others you’ve sported around the house this week.

Johnny did his best to not stare, maybe, he could do better. Even now as he rests against the door frame and follows your every move mixing different paints together, he can’t resist eyeing the dips in your back whenever you shift slightly. He can’t help but imagine how nice his hands could look placed around your carved in waist, gripped between his digits as he holds you down and fucks you until you’re screaming out for him to slow down.

“It’s rude to stare, especially unannounced.” You say without turning to look at him, noting his presence from the sound of light footsteps ending by the door.

“Sorry,” Johnny apologizes, voice coated in heavy drowsiness. “I didn’t know that you paint, I mean..”

“Why would you, right? It’s a hobby,” you explain, stroking a wide brush across a black and grayed canvas. “Mr. Jeong didn’t want me to get bored when he’s away, can’t have a bored housewife.”

“You seem to stay pretty occupied..” Johnny thinks out-loud. If you weren’t stealing his surfboard, you seemed to be running off to some pilates class, or to get your nails done, something about a Erewhon market to grab an overpriced smoothie. Living that Tiktok life according to Jaehyun. “You’ve been painting for a while?”

Johnny enters to look around at what he assumes are completed canvases perched against a wall to dry by an uncovered window. “You’re pretty good.”

“Thanks.”

Something about the way you seem unimpressed by him and always reply to his flattery in the same monotone uninterested way tickles him more than it should. Johnny can’t even say he’s caught your eyes lingering on him once yet.

“Shouldn’t you be out with Jaehyun?” You ask, following the movements by your side from the corner of your eye. Johnny’s shirtless, of course, barefoot in nothing but the boxers he probably fell asleep in last night.

“We aren’t attached at the hip.” Johnny shrugs, pretending to seem interested in the tubes and cans of paints scattered near your feet. Squatting down, he looks through the ingredients wondering if you should really be in here inhaling this stuff. “Also, I can’t hang the same way I used to. Age is finally catching up to me I guess.”

“You’re a child.” You scowl, turning to look down at his messy head of hair. “Stop speaking as if you’ve lived 50 years on earth.”

“A child??” Johnny shoots up straight, standing tall in all his half-naked glory. “You’re only a few years older than me!”

“I could be your—“

“You could not.” He interrupts, smirking full of arrogance that only a 20-something year old could possess. “You could be Mr. Jeong’s daughter though.”

“Possibly.”

Johnny’s surprised you garner him with a response, expecting his message to go ignored. Of course he’d dropped hints about the age difference between you and your husband, occasionally mentioning how even if he’s home you must not feel a difference. Pushing it further by joking around if the old man can even get it up anymore.

“Is that what you’re into?” Johnny crosses his arms, leaning back on a wall in front of your painting set-up. “Wrinkled and shriveled?”

“Is that the way a pre-med student should be speaking about his future patients?” Clicking your tongue, you return to your work, not wanting to fall for the game Johnny’s been trying to involve you in since arriving.

“I’ll be starting my residency soon.” Johnny corrects you, counting the different tones of paint splatter on your overalls. “This might be one of my last summers to fuck around, you know.. mess up a few last times.”

“Sounds like you’ve been messing up nearly every night.” You smirk, lifting an arched brow at him. The parade of different girls walking in and out of your house hasn’t gone unnoticed despite Jaehyun’s best efforts to be discreet about it, neither has their obnoxiously loud moans and screams while getting plowed in your guest room.

“Not quite the mess up I’ve been dreaming about.” Johnny says confidently, studying the small changes in your expression this up-close. Between you running around to complete your errands and Jaehyun cock-blocking him, he hasn’t had the easiest time to pick up on your mannerisms. Barely able to lock eyes with you long enough to maintain eye contact with the way you nonchalantly carry on avoiding him, make him feel invisible.

“Imagine if your mother knew of these things you dream about.” You say, peering over the canvas to find Johnny’s honey gaze. “You think she would approve of this behavior?”

“Not at all.” Johnny’s quick to say, pushing off the wall. “But she’s not here, is she?”

“Unfortunately.”

Johnny doesn’t fail to notice the second too long you take to look away from his chest, moving to stand by your canvas with his boxers hung low enough to show off the sharp edges of his jutted hip bones, he flexes intentionally, stretching his waist side to side for his stomach muscles to convulse. The way they would convulse when..

“Do you think I’m a bad boy?” He whispers, as if you aren’t home alone, because he knows that secrets should stay quiet.

“I think you are mentally a young boy, a young boy afraid of your last days of youth slipping through your fingers.” You know Johnny feeds off your attention, casually side-swiping him and refocusing on your painting despite his best efforts to show off his great physique.

“Perhaps.” He shrugs, looping a hand around your wrist gently to tug your brush onto the smooth flat planes of his abdominal muscles. “But I want to grow up, I wanna show you what a man I can be.”

Johnny speaks between bated breath, sweeping the deep red paint up and down the indent of definition lining his stomach.

“What makes you think I want to know what a man you can be?” Words feel heavy sliding off your tongue, dipping the paint brush lower into his twitching navel, blood red trickles down rolling past the scrunched waistband of his bottoms.

“Because, you can handle big things.” Johnny retorts, tilting his head to one side. “At least, that’s what you claim, I’ve yet to see it proven myself though.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to prove that to you?” arching back your neck to push your chin forward, you have to look up at Johnny, brushing past his waistband to press the bristles of your mostly dried brush against the bulge that’s formed between his hips.

Johnny’s throat bounces, swallowing behind his pursed lips from the stiff itchy friction pushing through the thin cotton fabric covering his groin. Instinctively canting his hips forward in search of more, he has to resist the urge to look down. Grinding the backs of his teeth together as he watches your face lacking any sign of weakness. “Let me fuck you.”

“Spoken like a true bratty child.” You snicker, trailing the tips of your manicured nails down the side of his twitching abdomen. “I’m a married woman.”

“Means nothing to me,” Johnny lilts, throbbing between his thighs from the rough manner you continue to dig into his crotch. “Besides that, I haven't seen you wear a ring.”

“Ah, and you would know, given all the time you spend staring at me.” You say, digging your freshly done nails into the lines of muscles covered in paint. “You think I’m playing some game with you, don’t you? Such a little boy.”

“Maybe.” Johnny’s throat tightens, swallowing the wad of saliva that’s gathered at the back of his mouth. “I find it hard to believe you seriously married Jihoon.. of all people to waste your youth on.”

“Marriage isn’t as simple as you’re making it.” You whisper, tracing one of his hips with the smooth pads of your fingers. “It’s not a waste if you get something worth it out of it.”

“Hmm,” Johnny blows a long breath out, head drooping to concentrate on the brush jabbing at his hardened size. “I’m not oblivious, I understand that much, but what I also know for a fact is that there is no way Mr. Jeong can fuck you the way you deserve.”

“Deserve?” A smile creeps across your lips at that, pinching the fabric of his ruined boxers between your grip to tug lower and unveil where tanned skin meets lines of paleness protected by his swim trunks. “How exactly do I deserve to be fucked?”

Johnny tips forward, nudging his forehead against yours. “Wanna find out?”

“I’d love to find out.” Tossing the paint brush aside your mouth draws out an ‘Ooo’ feeling up his covered size with a push of your palm against his groin. “I don’t believe that you are going to be the one that shows me.”

“You want it?” Johnny’s tongue feels heavier with each press of your palm against the underside of his length, sucking his plump bottom lip under his teeth to suppress a groan.

“You’re asking me to cheat on my husband?”

“I’m asking you to let me fuck you.” Johnny says falling into a deep vibrato. His patience wears thinner with each teasing touch, a few steps closer is all it takes to press you against a wall, arms lifted above your head to leave you feeling caged in. “If I fuck you once, I promise that I’ll have you begging to be mine.”

“What makes you think I want to be yours?” Clasping your fist around his cock, you squeeze the fabric against his shape, pushing one of your thighs between his. “You’re the one begging to fuck me.”

“That’s what you want?” Johnny’s eyes flutter shut, not even trying to hide how aroused he is as he clamps around your thigh, hips jerking forward to fuck into your palm. “I’ll beg all you want— fuck, I’ll get on my knees. I’ll do anything, whatever you want.. just tell me. Tell me what to do.”

Johnny slumps more, catching a moan on your shoulder as his tongue begins to lick at your skin, sweet skin he could devour right now if you’d just let him. “Please, need to fuck you so bad.”

The back of your head knocks against the wall, stroking faster along his length throbbing thick and hot in your grasp. “Fuck..”

Johnny bites down on your shoulder, jerkily thrusting into your palm with three messy strokes, a broken shout lost behind the bite as his teeth bury in hard enough to break skin.

“Johnny!” Hissing, you reach for his hair, using the dried paint on his stomach to clean off the cum seeping from his boxers onto the back of your hand. “That hurts!”

He apologizes weakly, lapping at the fresh teeth marks left behind. Hot breath panting along your throat as he recovers and comes down. “Sorry… really sorry.”

“Think you can fuck me like I deserve?” You say, twisting chunks of his hair between your digits. “You just came from a few touches, kid.”

“I can..” Johnny’s head hangs shamefully, chewing at the insides of his cheeks feeling embarrassed yet again. “I can..”

“Yeah yeah, you need to go clean off.” shoving at his chest you nod to the door. “Don’t get paint all over my bathroom.”

“That’s seriously never happened to me before..” Johnny whispers, more to himself, rubbing at the back of his neck in disbelief.

“Not surprised.”

“Why?” He squints, taking in the sly smile lifting one of your cheeks.

“Little boys tend to be overzealous.” Patting his cheek, you nod to the door again. “Go.”

Johnny has to bite his tongue to stop himself from begging to fuck you one more time, nodding and bowing as he accepts the loss.

Maybe you were right.

Maybe you had him all figured out, Johnny contemplates, scrubbing the paint from his stomach under the stream of hot water hitting his skin, leaving behind pelts from the boiling temperature he’s set it at. A cold shower would have been for the best, especially now as he lathers up your body wash onto a cloth. The scent that clung to your skin still stuck to the backs of his teeth.

Fuck, I’m an idiot.

He sighs, dropping his head to rest on the shower tiles as his fist wraps the cloth around his length, half mass already just from the intoxicating scent of your steaming around his skull.

You never said no, and that’s enough to shoot dopamine through his veins, jolting his hips up as he turns and fucks faster into his palm; eyeing the red stained water swivel it’s way down the drain.

One way or another, Johnny was set to have his way with you. No married woman jerks off another man besides her husband willingly like that.

Shouting between gritted teeth he watches release mix in with the red, more than determined to paint your insides the same way and make you regret toying with him.

Week 3

‘Headed out to meet the girl from the party last night. Probably won’t be back until late. Stay out of trouble will you?’

Johnny’s eyes squint, rubbing his forehead to will away the nasty lingering sensation of a hangover attempting to ruin his morning. Groaning, he lowers the brightness on his phone screen to give his friends message a thumbs up, that should be enough of a response.

Trouble is the last thing he wants right now, bending over to roll his forehead against the marble kitchen tile, he groans wondering if that party was even worth it.

It wasn’t.

Not really, not when all he could think about while different girls approached him with high hopes of hooking up was the pretty desperate housewife home all alone..

“Johnny?”

Trouble called for him, slowly pushing himself to stand straight and swallow down the breeze of salty beach air entering from the sliding door he’d opened earlier, he wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand; pushing a mess of highlighted brown locks away from his face before forcing a smile to greet you.

“Morning!” His teeth chattered together upon finding your concerned gaze, blinking to disguise the quick scan of your figure covered by nothing but a thin baby pink negligee.

“Morning..” You say softly, slowly tip-toeing closer to the end of the kitchen counter he’s gripping onto to stop himself from keeling over. “You guys must have had fun last night?”

Johnny nods, adding a bored shrug. “Nothing amazing, I was just about to go for a run along the beach. Need some fresh air to blow away the remnants.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Bumping into his side to examine his face up-close, your tongue clicks, raising your fingers to drag through messy strands of hair masking his eyes. “You look like shit, kid.”

Johnny cuddles into the touch with a low groan, similar to a cat purring and burying its cheek into your palm, the corners of his lips lifting at the nickname. “Thanks, you almost sound like you care about me.”

“Don’t go for a run.” Dragging him to sit at the kitchen counter, you instruct him to stay put. “I’m gonna make you my hangover smoothie, always remedies Jihoon after a night of drinking.”

Johnny’s face immediately dips into a frown, perching his chin onto his palms with sad puppy eyes. “Must you mention him right now?”

Gathering up ingredients to cure your guests current problem, you dryly laugh, beginning to chop up ginger and garlic cloves. “Have you ever heard of this thing called gratitude? You’re living under his roof for free after all.”

“It’s a shame really..” Johnny grumbles, rubbing circles into his temples.

“Hmm? What’s that?”

“That I have no other way to thank him than by fucking his young hot wife.” He grins lazily, sighing between a laugh at the dramatic gasp you let out and your jaw plunging down to the floor. “You’ll have to relay the message for me— you know, if the old man can even handle what I’m going to do to you.”

“God, here I am trying to relieve your pain, and all you can talk about is your stupid horny teenage boy fantasies.” You sneer, tossing the concoction of ingredients you’ve readied into a blender before twisting about the kitchen to grab a cup, cursing under your breath as you reach a top shelf and trigger a pesky kink in your neck.

“Need help?” Johnny’s already on his feet before you can protest and insist he needs to stay put again, pressing to your back to reach overhead and set down the glass before you. He hums, pinching the part of your neck that meets your shoulder. “You pull something?”

Swatting at him, you nod, clenching your eyes shut. “Think I fucked up my neck between this new pilates class and lugging around new appliances for my paint room. Ahh—“

Johnny kneads harder at a knotted muscle between his thick fingers, pressing the heel of his palm in to add pressure. “And Mr. Jeong hasn’t hired you a personal masseuse yet? Someone’s worried about his pretty trophy getting polished off by another man.”

“Ugh..” hunching forward to grip on the counter you gasp between trying to keep your breath calm. “That hurts!”

“Yeah, I bet it does.” Johnny moves your hair aside, pressing his nose closer to inhale the scent of your shampoo still clinging to your scalp. “Do you always smell this good first thing in the morning?”

“I don’t know..” answering mindlessly under his weighty palms, you let out an embarrassingly satisfied groan, pushing your hips back to get comfortable with your elbows on the counter. A choked sigh emits from behind you using the opportunity to press closer and lock his hips to your barely covered backside.

“That was too easy,” Johnny snickers, rocking his girth between the dip that's formed on your bottom. “Mrs. Jeong, what would your husband think??”

“Ugh.. you little..” between staggered breaths you curse him, reaching back to push at his abdomen only for Johnny to tether your wrists together with one hand, his other unwilling to release the back of your neck.

“Little?” Johnny says brazenly, pushing roughly against your lower half, the toes of his sneakers knocking your ankles apart until you spread eagle over the counter for him. “Say that again?”

Another powerful cant of his hips has you gasping, struggling to release from his unyielding grip. “Fuck..”

“What was that Mrs. Jeong?” Johnny tsks, throwing a twist between his eyebrows to display the foul act. “What would your husband say? Acting like such a slut for his damn near second son? Have some shame.”

“Johnny!” Between gasping you manage to pinch at his hand and free one of your wrists. “Jaehyun could walk in at any moment!”

“Don’t worry your pretty head off about him,” Johnny sucks in his lower lip, maneuvering his hips back enough to view the stain that’s formed on your pathetic excuse for sleepwear. “Would you look at that?”

“Stop! Don’t look!” You almost believe your pleads, knocking against the cabinets before your legs when the cool blow of air conditioning shivers up your bottom as Johnny leisurely gathers the fabric of your negligée with one fist.

“Soaked right through your underwear sweetheart. Tell me to stop, tell me this isn’t because of me.” Johnny says heatedly, wedging your underwear higher with his other hand, the fabric bubbles with more wetness as he tugs it between your folds, kissing the backs of his teeth. “So fucking wet.”

“You c-can’t..” you gasp, bouncing against the burning pressure Johnny’s created down your center.

“That’s cute..” He chuckles, grinding together the backs of his teeth from the way your ass jiggles, just begging to clap back against him the more you shake at your knees. “Who’s going to stop me baby?”

“Ja-Jaehyun, he—“

“Jaehyun doesn’t give a fuck.” Johnny interrupts your sad excuse to make him stop, sliding one of his digits up your thigh to collect a dollop of wetness that's begun to trickle down past mid-thigh. “Your husband can’t do shit either. So bold and moronic to leave his pretty little slut of a housewife home alone, allow you to prance up and down the beach showing off your perfect tits, fat peachy ass.”

“He-he could..” You gulp, losing train of thought when he slaps at your butt, a large palm cupping the pert round of your ass hard enough to leave prints behind to catch sight of in a mirror the next day. “..wa—walk in.”

“Shut up about Jaehyun,” Johnny spits, delivering a rougher slap to your ass. “Suddenly you want to act like step-mom of the year? You knew what you were doing, we all know what you want.”

“Please..” You whimper, reeling from the sting of pain shooting to the back of your thigh.

“You know what could cure my hangover better than a smoothie?” Johnny asks, ripping your soaked underwear down to the tops of your thighs and cursing under his breath at the full visual of your glossy cunt. “Your tight pretty pussy.”

“Ugh!” Groaning, you scratch at the surface of the counter, slipping further and further away from your sanity; the last of it exiting your body at the first brush of his length between your folds. “Johnny!”

The shrieked scream of his name has him bending over, pressing the full amount of his weight onto your back to smash your breast on the cold surface. “What was that?” He grabs your chin, forcing your head to turn to the side and plant your cheek on the counter. “Speak up, tell me to stop.”

“Please..”

Johnny’s tongue clicks, wrapping a fist around the base of his girth to control swiping the tip between your folds. Teasing you with the occasional press of his cockhead against your pulsating hole. “Please stop Johnny, I’m an honest married woman.” He mocks, pouting and pulling your bottom lips open, your heavy breath leaving a cloud of moisture along the marble.

“Please..”

Johnny sneers, twisting your neck to a more pained angle to refocus your eyes on him. “Please spit in my mouth, treat me like a nasty cock slut, fuck me like a whore with your big cock.”

He nods your chin up and down, pupils blown wide as he dips the tip of his cock inside your entrance. The rim of it snapping like a rubber band around his bulbous size as he draws away. “Slutty fuck hole has more to say than you? Fine.”

Keeping your lips propped open with his fingers dug into your cheeks, Johnny gathers up saliva, lapping it from corner to corner inside his mouth. His plump lips purse together to pour it out slowly, a thick wad of it stretching out to land on your tongue with whimpered cries following behind. The act pushes tears from your eyes in disbelief.

Jaehyun’s father would never spit in your mouth, let alone call you any type of degrading names. As if able to read your mind, he snaps you out of it by jerking your head around, landing soft slaps on your cheek. “Swallow.”

Johnny waits until your throat bounces, evidently sucking down his spit and smiles as you gaze back with large watery half-dazed eyes. “What do you say?”

His thumb smears your lips, shoving the fat of your lower lip side to side with a glint in his eye. “Thank You..” You say, almost timidly, shivering at the thought of giving him the wrong answer.

“That’s right.”

“I shouldn’t..” You say nervously between inhaling, thighs wobbling in anticipation of knowing what comes next.

“You shouldn’t? Or you don’t want to?” Johnny cocks an eyebrow, eyes half-lid as he watches thoughts run rampant behind your gaze.

“Want to..”

Johnny licks his lips, alternating to cup your pussy from the back and slot his palm against your entrance cruelly, the tips of his calloused fingers pressing down on your clit. Cock landing in rapid slaps on your ass leaving a mess of your wet arousal with each hit. “You hear that? So fucking wet for me sweetheart. Here I thought only a real man could turn you on this much.”

Johnny leans back down again, capturing your lips and the moan you let out as two fingers push past the heat of your entrance. The sound of wetness echoes throughout the kitchen, obscene and loud, sprouting out onto his palm like a broken faucet. “Love how I play with your pretty pussy don’t you baby?”

He licks between the seam of your lips, demanding to be let in with a firm push of his tongue. Easily dominated by his larger mouth finding control as you gasp out a moan, scissoring apart his fingers to stretch you open. He bites at your upper lip, pulling the fleshy meat between his as he shifts to hover over you and lick the swell that's begun to form from his bite. “So tight, knew that your husband couldn’t possibly be making use of your perfect pussy.”

Johnny grunts, shoving a third finger inside of you to push against the inside of your velvety dripping walls. “God, how am I supposed to fit in here?” Raising his voice over the sound of your slippery wet cunt, he grins, forcing a fourth finger inside of you and working into a speedy pump. “Your useless husband should thank me, finally someone to satisfy his pretty little trophy wife, make use of her young tight body. Ruin you for any other man.”

Shifting to grab the back of your neck in a chokehold, Johnny keeps your upper half held down flat on the counter, working his other arm to a rapid pace that has you shouting. Tip-toeing off the ground from the throttle of his fingers, pushing the coil in your gut to constrict your insides and spill over the tears you’d been holding in. A slew of pleading and curses spilling out between the sound of creamy wetness hitting his forearm and hips.

“That’s it, opening up so fucking nice for me pretty.” Johnny pulls out abruptly, mouth desperate for a taste. Having to wipe his hand off on his shorts just to get a proper grip on your ass. He falls to his knees quickly, pulling your buttcheeks apart to drag his tongue from clit to your wrinkled hole, missing your dripping entrance just to hear you suffer. Squirming and quaking under the fierce hold he grips you in.

He bites down on the swell of your ass, groaning between sucking at the fleshy meat, fingers pressing in harder to fully display where you leak for him. The complete visual of you so obscene, clenching around nothing with your fingers buried in your mouth to contain your cries. “Fuck. So fucking tiny..”

He prods at your entrance, circling the stubby tips of his nails against it to watch another tremor of anguish roll up your thighs. “Tell me baby..”

Johnny glides two digits back inside, having to tuck his lip in to lower the growl in his chest. “Want me to fuck you?”

His tongue curls up, tracing the outline of your hole squeezing his fingers, swirling around your clenched rim that taunts him with the idea of fucking your ass until you’re pitifully groveling. Sulking and begging for him to slow down, go harder, fuck my ass until I break.

“Not…n-not right..” you whimper in spite of your desire screaming out otherwise from every direction. Fighting back the orgasm his fingers are plowing out of you, curling up where you need and pressing with a hard wiggle until your ass jiggles against his face. Tightening around his fingers too much as you hit release, having to stop his ministrations from the grip. “please..I’m married.”

“That makes one of us.” Johnny sighs, popping his fingers free to glide against his tongue. Eyes rolling to the back of his skull, dizzy just from the taste of your hitting his tonsils. “Only one of us has to care.”

Pushing up off his knees, he loops around your waist from behind, chin perched on your shoulder to lick at the shell of your ear, whispering close enough for your eardrums to vibrate. “And it’s not me.”

Hauling away from the counter, Johnny directs you toward the living room with his knees banging into the backs of yours. Protests falling silent as he spins you to face him and cups your cheeks with damp palms. “No one has to know.”

Not allowing you more time to think, his mouth crashes down on yours to stop the next thing you can say to convince yourself that this is wrong. If it’s so wrong, then why do you like it so much?

Johnny doesn’t have to ask you, he knows you’d put up a fight if you really cared. Knows you’d yell at him and push him off instead of lifting your arms above your head for him to strip you free of your nightgown, freely exposing your bare breasts for him to grab and massage, pinching your already hardened nipples as he sucks on your tongue.

“This is what you needed all along, someone to put you in your place.” Johnny’s lips lower to your chest, wrapping his mouth around your nipple to suck on, pulling it between his teeth as his hands cup your ass. Bending at his knee to lift you off your feet, he turns effortlessly, laying you down on the couch you’ve spent many nights with your husband watching movies; more nights alone scrolling through your phone burning through his credit cards.

“Told you I’d fuck you how you deserve baby.” Johnny says, wishing you hadn't insisted on acting so resilient. Now he’d have to make use of the next few days to fuck you morning and night until you have to beg him to carry you, legs too worn out. Leave your cunt raw and used, not like Mr. Jeong would even fathom the idea of his son's best friend since childhood doing something this low to him, not Johnny, the alleged ‘good influence’ on his son.

“Gonna be good for me? Take it like you deserve?” Johnny kicks off his running shoes, easily shoving aside the throb in his skull in favor of devouring you. Pushing his shorts off in one sweep, he positions between your thighs as if his life depends on it. As if you’ll suddenly wake from your spacey horny daze and slap him across the face.

Gripping your chin, he forces your glossy eyes back on his face, sharp features more shadowed from the light streaks of sunlight entering the mostly dimmed room. He’s straight out of a wet dream above you, hair tousled, sweeping down above his strong eyebrows and hooded eyes. Lips swollen fat from the assault delivered to your mouth, and a body you can only squeeze your eyes shut tightly to imagine on top of you while your husband sloppily thrusts and cums too fast.

“Want you.. want you to fuck me.” You drawl, ready to wail as you clutch at his waist. The dips of muscle melting beneath your palms. “Please.. fuck me like I deserve.”

Johnny’s nearly mortified by how red the engorged head of his length looks, stroking up the base as if he needs any help to fully harden, aching between his thighs where his balls sit heavy; dying to release load after load inside of you.

“I know, pretty baby.” Johnny has to take a deep breath, pushing at the back of one of your thighs to swipe between your creamy coated folds, biting down on the tip of his tongue as you tremble in his hold and let out a wet pleading sob to get fucked.

He struggles to slide inside despite how wet you are, mentally and physically cursing, sucking at the drool ready to pour from the corners of his lips. He has to shut his eyes to not cum already, the image of your perfect pussy taking his cock finally feels overwhelming, it’s too much, a culmination of his every thought since the moment he saw you sat on his board with your thighs spread open. He knew he had to have you.

“Fuck, you feel so perfect.” Johnny hisses when he bottoms out, his heavy sack smacking at your rim as he lodges himself in place. Head swirling as you clench up around him and let out the prettiest moans he’s ever heard.

“Big… s’big..” more tears brim your eyes, tugging your lip between your teeth to not wail as a batch of salty wetness rolls down past your lips and pools at your neck.

“Just for you.” Johnny tries out an experimental roll of his hips, stomach sucking in rapid convulsions from how deep inside of you he’s reaching. Unable to even bring himself to take in the hint of bulge protruding on your mound. “Need to get fucked stupid so bad, don’t you sweetheart?”

He can’t wait anymore, patience out the window as he draws back to the tip and rams forward, earning an ear shattering shout from the confines of your chest. He grips onto your thigh, hoisting it around his hip for better leverage as his other hand stays splayed on the back of your knee, pushing your flexibility to its limits with each thrust.

Johnny can see your breasts rise and fall between labored breaths, the rapid motion forcing your tits to bounce delectably, leaving his mouth no choice but to capture your nipple between his teeth and bite.

The drag of his cock feels heavy, near painful from after already cumming. It hurts in a good way, in a way you’d begun to forget. Lost to the torturous slam of his cock spacing out your insides, as if to claim your cunt for no one other than himself.

“Not gonna last much longer,” Johnny says between raspy short breaths. Pistoning into you roughly, nearly inaudible above the booming sound of skin slapping skin. “You’re just too fucking good.”

“You.. you have to..” struggling to breathe too, you can hardly form your thoughts coherently, fucked into another dimension as Johnny keeps going. Cock plunging in and out of you faster, faster than your husband’s ever been capable of.

“No.” He grits, planting his palm against the back of your knee to keep you held in place; not that you have anywhere to go.

“Johnny.. have to..” You start to say again, another orgasm threatening to silence you when he slams in at another angle. Shocking you with the press of two fingers on your clit, working the stiff little bundle of nerves expertly. The relentless pace he fucks into you with never faltering, hip bones smack against your pelvis with a sharp clap. “P-pull out.. can’t.”

“No.” Johnny repeats, sinking in impossibly deep. Delirious as you think the length of his size reaches what feels like the back of your throat. The constant reminder that you haven’t been fucked this good in years echoes at the back of your mind. Perhaps you’d never been fucked this good, definitely not since before the days you found yourself sat across from Jeong Jihoon interviewing to be his secretary fresh out of university. The thought that he’d end up asking you to marry him after a year of fooling around never once crossed your mind. The thought that you’d crave for another man to disrespect you in your happy home, cheat on the man you allegedly love; the man you married for an easy life, never once had occurred to you.

“You’re mine now, don’t fucking tell me what to do.” Johnny rages, bending closer to hover his face above yours. “You make your husband pull out?”

Johnny jaw locks, flexing at the sides where his cheeks start to hollow. His muscles tight and corded from staving off the release he so desperately wants to fill you with, release he wants to keep you full of, watch it swallowed up ensuring you have a piece of him inside of you forever.

“Johnny..” You whimper, pushing a palm against his chest as fresh tears line the rims of your eyes. “S’too much.. can’t anymore.”

“Liar.” Johnny can feel moisture itching at the backs of his eyes, ready to tear up himself from the way your tits bounce with every brutal jostle of your bodies colliding together. “What happened to handling big things, huh?”

A wash of pride puffs out his chest, dipping at his waist as he drives every inch of his length inside, the stretch hurting more now as he barrels another orgasm out of you, much weak this time, still gushing enough clear liquid out to drip down past his balls.

“Fuck, you’re such a mess for me.” Johnny can feel his long overdue orgasm building to its breaking point. Choking on his saliva as he focuses on where the two of you connect, cock drenched with the glisten of your never ending release. “Look so pretty when you’re getting fucking ruined.”

“Joh-johnn—“ You try to speak, digging your nails into his chest, may as well be babbling in another language for all he cares. “Too big for me, too m-much.. please..”

His hips finally come to a stand still, groaning from the depths of his chest in a guttural tone. Johnny should be ashamed of the whined shout that breaks out of him, fucking into you with three rapid fire thrusts that send him over the edge. Pushed hard enough to lurch him forward, boneless as he plants on top of you and punches the air from your chest with his, the hold on your thighs weakened, flopping your legs around his sides numbly as his cock throbs against your insides. The tip of it painting your cervix with spurt after spurt of thick white ropes.

Johnny’s not sure he’s ever cum this hard before, the sensation rattles up his spine, buried balls deep as he trembles and falls apart. The amount of release is too much, pouring out around his thick size to drip it’s way down between his inner thighs; sticky and hot where it glues his skin together with each slight circle of his hips. “Fuckfuckfuck..”

Between his eyelashes fluttering, Johnny watches your chest heave, mind continuing to spiral from your release. He thinks you’re the prettiest woman he’s ever seen, especially fucked full of him, euphorically blissed out at his hands. He knew you’d be even prettier after ruining you, stripping you down to submit for him.

Mine. Should be mine. Fucked like you’re all mine.

Drawing back from between your legs as slowly as possible, Johnny admires how wrecked your core appears, twitching around his size as each inch glides free. It’d be a shame to waste all this cum, if not for how debauched and pretty your cunt looked like this. Covered in release that you took out of him. Mine. Mine. All mine.

“So.. Mrs. Jeong..” Johnny falls to your side, huffing as he lands.

“Ugh.” Smacking his chest, you roll your eyes. “Stop calling me that.”

Johnny licks up your neck, biting down on your jaw until you let out a pained squeak. “I’ll have to come back next summer, don’t you think?”

His pouty lips litter kisses higher, tugging your earlobe between his teeth with a light teasing bite. “Maybe even Christmas, Thanksgiving? Hmm, I know how busy your husband can get.”

“What would my husband think? Suddenly his son's friend has decided to hang around every holiday?”

“Best friend, you know Mr. Jeong says I'm always welcome. A polite and intelligent young man such as myself.” Johnny informs, lapping at your ear between words. “He really thinks of me as his own son.”

“My husband’s a very cunning man..” You retort, twisting your neck to face him. “He managed to make me his, you know.”

Johnny’s eyes flicker over your face, the regular pace your chest rises and falls at again, thumbing at your bottom lip. “He’s smart.”

“Really smart..”

“I’m smarter.” Johnny says confidently, pushing the tip of his thumb past your lips. “And I always get what I want.”

Always get what’s mine.

#johnny suh smut #johnny smut #nct johnny #nct 127 smut #nct smut #neopuppy fics #johnny suh fanfic #onek #johnny suh scenarios #johnny suh drabbles #nct au

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piccolos-bigtoe · 3 months

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Hello everypony,,, I've been gone for a hot minute O.o Haven't I.... Anyways heres another fake book cover. I really haven't been in a huge drawing mood, and I miss it a lot. I want to keep practicing these because it's fun and I want to make cool posters for myself and stuff like that. I copied it from another cover (down below...) because the title was too funny. I don't know what a truckers chicken is, I don't know why truckers would have chickens (animal or food??). I looked at the word trucker so much that it's just gibberish to me and I had to check over and over if it was spelt right LOL.

Sniper my queen,,,, release the tatas... Ignore the backgroudn. ofc I know how to draw trucks.. Okay Inknow what ypu'er thinking, dear reader, "Gee whiz Piccolos-Bigtoe!!! ANOTHER speeding bullet drawing? AND shirtless Sniper??? How very original of you..." and you're right, it is original, and I'm not sure if I've done it before now, but I will keep doing it. Lowkey it is my coping at this point,,, I project my personal issues onto them to make writing about it easier.... Blah

I'm going to be real right now with you all.... controversial opinion ahead........ I am not compelled by the thought of soft gentle twink Scout. Before you boo me and throw tomatoes- I think he's fun and cool, and I enjoy others depictions, but I like to imagine him as some an asshole overconfident wanna be hunk, annoying, reactive, always talking up a big game about mostly useless things but he can't handle his ego being bruised. but it's all a facade to hide his true emotions that he feels deep down (BOOO CLICHE!!!!)... </3 I went crazy Sunday night,, wrote like a whole thing about it.

Also I almost got into an accident today because while I was driving home from work some old lady decided to pull out from a parking lot and gave me like 5 seconds to slam on the breaks. Good bye until next time. Which is hopefully soon. I miss drawing

#tf2 #my art #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanart #tf2 sniper #tf2 scout #sniperscout #speeding bullet

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the-californicationist · 6 months

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The Fourth of July

Another gift fic for another awesome friend of mine! Stockings are getting stuffed left and right this year. <3 <3

Alex/FReader - foreign reader, blowjob/Facefuck, spit kink, soft!Alex

You are celebrating your first July 4th with Alex and his friends at your brother's lake house. Seeing the booming fireworks, eating hotdogs, and drinking out of those red solo cups - just like the movies - has been so much fun. But, you and Alex get a little carried away in the pool house.

MDNI/18+

AO3 Link

When he picked you up for the party, Alex looked like he was Mr. USA. His fluorescent blue swim trunks were short, the hem sitting high on his huge, muscular thighs, showing off his carbon fiber leg. The arms of his old Army tee shirt were sliced open, giving you a view of his endless, tanned skin. His ribs and abs rippled beneath the surface as he parked the Silverado in the road and hopped out of it to greet you.

You’d never wanted to run your hands through a shock of hair so badly in your life, buried under a bright red trucker cap with the bill turned backwards. He was smacking his gum loudly, and he was already sunburnt across his nose.

“Hey, there. You ready for some freedom?”

You smiled, enjoying his American accent,

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I think.”

“C’mon. Your brother’s waitin’ for us at the house. Got about fifty pounds of barbeque workin’ on the pit, I’ll bet.”

He grabbed your bag and threw it into the back of his truck before grabbing your arm and helping you into the lifted cab of the vehicle. Your swimsuit coverup billowed in the wind, and he gently gathered it up for you, moving it away so it wouldn’t get caught in the heavy door.

Alex pulled himself into the driver’s seat, flexing his tattooed forearms as he settled into position, gripping the wheel tightly. As you looked closer, you started to notice little scars, nothing major. But, you were always quick to forget what his day job was: CIA war machine. He threw on a pair of hot-pink sunglasses with a floater neck strap attached, and handed you his spare pair. You slipped them on, feeling much cooler than you thought you should. As you pulled onto the road, he cranked up the music until you couldn’t even hear yourself think.

You took the opportunity of being bathed in sound to study him from across the center console of the truck. The landscape of America - strip centers and wooded fields - rushed by you unadmired, and you were trapped by him. You thought you’d gotten away with a long, delicious appraisal, but he flipped his glasses down his nose and peeked over them at you. The look in his eye made you blush.

He turned the music down and stared at you while the huge truck idled at a red light. His voice was nice and even as he asked,

“What are you lookin’ at, darlin’?”

“Nothing,” you tried to be dismissive, playing coy but doing it badly.

An enormous, rough hand grabbed you around your knee,

“Nothin’? Like what you were wearin’ in that snap you sent me last week, nothin’?”

You blushed pink. The light turned green. Alex stayed staring at you, squeezing your leg, until someone behind him honked, and even then he took his sweet time.

“Mmhm,” you said, waiting for his next move as he drove onward, revving the truck’s angry engine.

“Did you tell him yet?” Alex asked, threading his fingers through yours as you captured it from your lap..

“No,” you laughed under your breath, “I think you’d have known by now if I had.”

He laughed with you, readjusting his cap,

“I think I’d have a black eye by now.”

You grimaced in reply, knowing your brother’s temper. He wouldn’t be thrilled to see you flirting with his best friend from when he was enlisted. Alex saw you frown, and he held your hand a little tighter, saying,

“Worth it.”

You drew in a tight breath and looked over at him. His gaze stayed on the road this time, pushing the speed limit, taking the exit to the lake.

You’d known Alex Keller ever since your brother moved to Clearwater. Your brother, Charlie, had studied at university and he had fallen in love with a man who was in Alex’s old regiment. They’d gotten married, and now, Charlie had his green card and everything. All of Alex’s friends and army buddies had brought Charlie into the fold. He was even driving a Ford F-150 these days. If it wasn’t for his Kiwi accent, he could’ve passed as a true American.

You tried to come over to see Charlie and his husband, Greg, every summer. But, with the restrictions in place, it had been a few years. This would be a happy reunion as long as he didn’t discover the relationship blooming between you and his best friend, Alex.

It had been an accident, really. Charlie had lost his phone, and Alex had called you by accident, trying to find it. Then, you had just…kept calling. They were late night talks for you, and early morning talks for him, but you and Alex just seemed to have so much to say to each other. When he flew out to Urzikstan for dangerous missions, or over to Russia to do God knows what, he would always send you back some little trinkets from his trip.

You knew it was a lie. You knew, in your heart, that he had been over there killing people and saving the world from whatever horrors were terrorizing those deep, dark places. But, when you got a little glass camel figurine in the mail, its box covered in a million stamps, you put it on your window sill and watched the light dance through it like it hadn’t been shipped from some sort of master of war. But, if you were truly honest with yourself, you didn't give a shit.

You’d been talking for about six months now, and the build up to your trip was intense. The anticipation was killing you both. Seeing him now, feeling the bones of his hand in yours as you massaged the tiny muscles inside of his palm, it was all too much. You needed Charlie to understand that you had fallen madly in love with his best friend.

“I think we should tell him,” Alex said, interrupting your thoughts.

“Shit,” you scoffed, “He’s gonna lose it.”

“I don’t want to keep hiding you away. And maybe…” you heard the familiar tones of doubt in his throat, “Maybe I’m not the kind of man your brother wants for you. But, I can be.”

You kissed the back of his hand, letting the tiny hairs tickle your skin. The lake house wasn’t far, but you wanted to reassure him more than just chaste affection.

“I’m eager to see the kind of man you can be,” you turned the seduction up to eleven, hoping he wouldn’t immediately laugh at you.

He didn’t laugh. If anything, other than a flash of panic in his eyes, he didn’t move. He allowed you to flip his hand over, its wide palm facing the sky as you planted kiss after kiss onto his skin. You felt his breathing quicken, rippling through his limbs. Finally, you took his forefinger into your mouth and began to gently suck on its tip. It was salty, and probably unclean, but you didn’t care. You kept going, moving your mouth up and down his thick digit as if it were his cock. And goddamn did you want it to be his cock.

The phone calls had turned flirtatious, and then downright lascivious, in the last few months. Once, while he was hiding in a bunker somewhere in Ukraine, he’d called you, desperate. You listened to him as he pulled hungrily on his cock, letting you listen to the wet slipping sounds of his fist pounding into his skin, searching for release. He’d begged for your mouth. He said it was all he could think about, and the gorgeous little whimpering noises he made had set it in your mind. You dreamed about blowing him for weeks. You thought about how his come would taste when you had been sitting in the terminal and waiting on your plane. You were going to suck the life out of Alex Keller at this fucking party tonight if it was the last thing you ever did.

“Oh,” his voice was shaking and quiet, “Fuuuuuck.”

One more strong suck on his finger and you let him loose, wiping away the wetness with your hand, lacing your fingers back through his as if nothing had happened.

His breathing was ragged, and his hand was trembling. The lake house was just up ahead, and as Alex pulled into the drive, he took his hand back from your grip to adjust his growing cock. It looked heavy, and you couldn’t stop staring.

“Holy shit,” he sighed, “Charles is gonna kill me.”

“I won’t let him,” you smiled.

“That mouth…” he was still turned on, and his voice was deepened by his arousal.

“Wait til you see what else it can do,” you grinned and popped open your door to greet Charlie.

Your brother was in a black apron and carrying a set of tongs. He was at least six and a half feet tall and built like an ox. The back of his neck was red from the sun, and he wore his hair up in a poorly coiffed bun. You shut the truck door and he turned around. When he saw you, his face lit up, and he shouted your name across the yard.

“Kia ora, sister. Look at you! How’s the Air B&B?”

Charlie held you close to his body, hugging you so tight that it hurt. You let it hurt.

“Fine. I’m starving.”

“It’s coming. Where’s Alex?”

“Grabbing the bags, I think.”

You turned back around and watched as Alex bent into the truck bed and pulled your bag out along with his. He’d let his sunglasses fall around his neck and walked over to you and Charlie.

“Charles,” Alex smiled, dropping a bag to shake your brother’s hand.

“Alex, thanks for picking her up. Greg and the boys are down at the dock.”

You spent the day jet skiing and swimming with Alex and all of your brother’s friends. The girlfriends and wives and husbands all introduced themselves, or reintroduced themselves if they had met you before, and Alex stuck by your side through it all. He could have easily abandoned you to go on the fishing trip that most of the other men were keen to take, or he could have hung around Charlie all day since it had been months since they’d seen each other, too. But, he didn’t. He seemed to know that you didn’t want to be alone, and he held you to him in as much as he dared.

It would be a lie, though, if you two didn’t admit to sharing a stray touch or even a kiss every now and then. You kept finding excuses to be alone together.

Finally, it was nearly fireworks time, and Greg was setting up the array of them. The purple dusk was just settling on the horizon, and you and Alex had front-row seats. He had brought you another icy beer from the cooler, and a towel from inside the house to sit on. You’d positioned yourselves right next to the small pool house, a little away from the crowd.

The pool house was little more than a small bedroom and a toilet, but it was big enough to block anyone from seeing you two from behind. That way, if someone was looking at you, you’d know it. The excitement of hiding your affection from everyone was exhilarating.

You had worn your bright pink triangle bikini, and Alex had spent most of the day staring at it. You’d even made him retie the bows a few times, just to torture him. Once, he’d even managed to swipe a finger over your nipple, so you knew that once everyone’s eyes were focused on the exploding sky, it was on.

Other houses on the lake were popping their own fireworks, and there was a man who was famous for his end-of-the-night show. As Charlie lit more and more of the small ones, you noticed the other houses following suit. It was pretty, and every time a mortar cracked in the sky, you could feel it in your chest.

Once it became dark enough, you started to rub your hand up and down Alex’s bare thigh. He scooted closer and closer to you like a dog begging for more pets. You obliged him, running your fingers higher and higher until you were disturbing the hem of his shorts. Then, you went for it.

He felt you move your hand to the warm flesh between his legs, and he whispered,

"No, no, wait...oh, fuck..."

You put your hand through the stretchy leg of the nylon trunks and searched for his heavy cock and balls. You ignored his dick at first, rubbing his balls gently, moving them around in your hand, massaging them and feeling his dick fighting for attention above your wrist.

“Holy fucking shit, woman,” he hissed, fidgeting in his seat, his eyes turned skyward as he gasped as quietly as he could.

“You enjoying the show?” You asked, acting very casual.

“Enjoying…Jesus Christ,” Alex furrowed his brow at you and wiped a hand down his face. His eyes shone blue and then green and then red as the colors burst above you.

Finally, you wrapped your fingers around his swollen rod, nearly three times as large as it had been soft, and started to pump up and down slowly and deliberately. He let out a trembling breath.

“Baby, baby, baby, please…ah, please.”

“What do you need, Alex?” You whispered, kissing his neck, “Tell me. I wanna hear it.”

“I need your mouth, baby. Please, I’ll do anything,” he kissed you back, his mustache and beard tickling your skin, sending chills down your arms.

You looked over your shoulder at the pool house, and he followed your gaze. Then, you looked back down at the dock and saw Charlie and Greg untangling a huge fireworks display. You had time.

“C’mon,” you stood up quietly and opened up the door to the pool house.

The two of you snuck in and shut it behind you, still able to see through the small skylight as the fireworks were going off outside. You didn’t wait for him to get settled. In fact, you grabbed Alex by the arm and pulled him into the small room, sinking to your knees on the well-worn rug. You looped your fingers in the waistband of his shorts, and pulled them down. His cock flagged free, bobbing up and down, and he was as hard as a stone.

“Holy fuck! Wait, wait…oh, fuck!” He tried to catch his balance, and set his hands on your shoulders.

You stared at his hard length, admiring the velvety smoothness of his skin, looking at his bare, pink head. You could see the scar from his circumcision, and you ran your tongue along the dark line of skin, licking him up and onto his plump, uncovered head. The sound he made from your first contact would be burned into your brain forever. It was a low, dark growl mixed with a sigh that seemed like he had just been relieved from carrying the whole world on his shoulders. Maybe he had.

You took him into your mouth achingly slowly, looking up at him the entire time you did so, watching his face contort into different stages of blissful agony. He had one hand in his hair, pulling on it at the roots, his hat knocked back, looking like he was in shock. You swallowed him deeper, opening and closing your throat with swallow after swallow, making more and more drool pool in your mouth as you did until it was running out of your lips and down onto your chest.

Then, you began to bob your head back and forth along as much of his length as you could take, choking yourself with it until it hurt just a little. You tried to relax. You wanted to show him that you could take it all, that you could be his relief.

You focused on his head, running your tongue over its crest, tasting his salty precome as you lapped over his hole, rubbing the slick back and bumpy front of your tongue across it over and over and over. You used your hand to pump him up and down as you did, shaking him vigorously while he was sucked into your mouth.

Then, just as you were finding a steady, beating rhythm, he took your head in his hands and pulled you off of him. He was panting and ferocious when he whispered to you,

“Oh, my fucking God, baby. You don’t have to —”

“I want to,” you insisted, wrapping your hands behind your thighs and pulling his cock into your lips again. You kissed his head like it was his mouth, making out with his cock, covering him in your spit.

You felt him take one of the strings of your bikini in his hands and tug. Your top fluttered down, exposing your breasts to the dark room. You moaned.

When you did, he stumbled forward, losing his balance,

“Shit. Baby, I can't...” he begged, catching himself on the side of the end table, his knuckles white and straining to hold up his weight.

“I’ll let you sit,” you said cheekily, “If you hold my hair for me.”

“Oh, God,” he sank to the bed and laced his fingers through your hair, grabbing the back of your skull.

You sucked him harder, moaning as you did so, playing with your nipples and feeling your drool run down your chin.

Alex’s hand was only loosely connected, and you wanted more from him. You pulled away again and looked up at him with the biggest doe eyes you could muster,

“Alex,” you had his attention like a bright fire, “Fuck my face. Please.”

A snarl came out of his mouth, and he had to put himself back together before he answered you. He used his big hands to pet your hair out of your face, running a thumb across your wet bottom lip with tender care,

“I don’t wanna hurt you, baby. This feels so good. I don’t need you to -”

“I need you to. I wanna feel you in my throat.”

“Are you trying to kill me?”

“Only a little,” you smiled and licked the tip of him again, teasing him.

“If I hurt you, pinch me. Hard.”

You nodded, taking him as deep as you could. Then, when you reached your limit, you felt his hands get tight, shoving you down past your mouth and into your throat. He was still so gentle with you as he moved himself inside of you, fucking you ever so slowly, waiting for your pinch. So, you started to moan and lick and pull him closer with your hands, pushing yourself to the point of gagging.

He yanked you off of him in a hurry, thinking you were injured. A long, frothy line of drool came out with him, and you spit the rest onto his shaft and returned him to your mouth. Now that you knew that you could go that deep with help, you tried to do it without, and you nearly succeeded.

Alex was a complete mess above you, and his moans had become high, whining whimpers. With every swallow, with every lick, you earned a new noise. A gasp, a curse, a shaking cry. You played him like an instrument. Loudly.

Finally, you took him all the way in, past even where he had dared to push you, and you buried your nose in his crotch, smelling his hair and sweat and skin.

“Oh, fucking shit! Fuck that’s deep. Oh, God. Oh, God! Baby!”

He was unraveled like a ball of string, spilling out everywhere. His body betrayed his politeness, and he thrust himself into you once, twice. You watched as the rockets and cannons and mortars all exploded around you in a fiery, rainbow crescendo, he came down your throat, crying for you, whimpering your name, gasping through gritted teeth.

You counted to ten, trying not to gag, feeling his cock pulsing in your mouth, beating like a heart. Then, you started to get light-headed. So, you pulled back, releasing him in a slobbery, wet mess of come and spit.

You leaned forward into his lap and began to lick him clean. He shuddered as you did so, shaking and moaning as your tongue touched all of his sensitive places. You saved his head for last. Licking up and down his shaft, cleaning his come from him, tasting his body’s sweet, sticky release. Until finally, you looked up at him with a sly smile.

He looked down at you in dumb shock as you sucked all the fluid away from his swollen head, and he gasped as you finished the job. You released him with a pop from your lips and smiled, sitting back on your heels and playing with your tits.

Alex lay on the bed for a while, and you joined him, rubbing his skin under his cutoff tee. He rolled onto his side and greedily suckled on your nipples, kissing your mouth and neck affectionately, fondling you a little more aggressively than you expected. Then, he looked up at the door and back down at you,

“Will you still want me after your brother breaks my nose?”

You laughed, rolling your eyes,

“Sure, I will.”

“Then, wait here, baby. I’ll be right back.”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #alex keller #alex keller x reader #alex keller smut #alex keller cod #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod

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thesightstoshowyou · 7 months

Text

Hot as a Summer Revival

Alpha!Thomas Hewitt x Omega!F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: You meet a helpful stranger when you least expect it.

Warnings: A/B/O AU, blood, predator/prey if you squint, noncon I guess because of heat but reader is très enthousiastique, virgin!Tommy, he doesn’t let a little bit of premature ejaculation stop him, creampies, knotting

Your shoulders burn. Blazing sunlight radiates down on you from a cloudless sky and sears your exposed skin. Sweat pours down your back and drenches your shirt, sticking it to the heavy backpack you carry. Your shoes kick up dust with each laborious step.

You hope the trucker that kicked you out in the middle of this wasteland dies in a fiery crash.

“More trouble than you’re worth,” he’d spat before slamming the door shut and speeding off. Your jaw clenches at the memory.

It’s your own fault, really.

Your scent-killing soap had run out a few days prior. You’d risked hitchhiking, desperate, and luckily a beta had picked you up. But, as the day grew warmer and you started to sweat, there was no more hiding.

Sure, times are changing. People become more and more progressive each year, but there are still plenty who look down on omegas. To them, you’ll never be anything more than lower class breeding stock.

You shake your head. No point dwelling on things you can’t change. Focus on what you can control, like figuring out where the hell you are.

Dry grass rustles in a hot breeze. The wind brings no relief, just the scents of parched earth, desert willow, white oak, and some dead thing rotting in the oppressive heat. There’s a whole lot of nothing as far as the eye can see. You’re somewhere in west Texas, you’re almost certain, but you haven’t seen another car or building or road sign for miles….

Watery eyes, irritated by dust and blinding sun, squint to focus. Through the heat simmering off the road you spot it: A fading green sign in the distance. You shuffle a little faster and allow yourself to hope for nearby civilization.

Fuller - 3 Miles

The name doesn’t ring any bells, but if there’s even one gas station, you’ll be happy. Your pack kicks up more dirt when it crashes to then ground. Digging through the pockets, you find your water bottle. Stale, lukewarm water wets your dry throat as you rest your sweaty back against the sign post.

As you catch your breath and sip, you begin to notice a new sensation. A new discomfort. Warmth prickles under your skin, the barest hint of a tingle you hardly register until you focus. Then there’s the tug deep in your gut, the promise of a future hunger no food or drink can satisfy. The sweat dripping from your body begins to change and take on a new scent, one that fills the air around you until the breeze carries it away.

A calling card.

No. No, no, no, not now! It’s too early, isn’t it? You push away from the sign post, water within the bottle sloshing with your trembling. Frantically, you attempt to count back the weeks and realize you don’t even know what day it is.

More time has passed than you thought.

Running a hand through your hair, you suck in a breath to steady yourself. What will you do now? You can’t go to town, not until your heat passes. And with this wind, every alpha in the vicinity is going to smell you.

Think. Wildly, you look around you, ignoring that accursed burn settling between your thighs. There, up ahead: A grove of trees. You have a tent and sleeping bag in your backpack. You’ll hide for a few days and ride this out.

Grunting, you heave your pack back onto your sunburned shoulders and trudge down the road once again.

This is going to fucking suck.

Everything is sticky; your hair clings to your dewy brow, your sleeping bag adheres to your sweaty skin, and the slick coating your thighs glues your legs together. Inside, you burn with need. Every nerve ending is alight, overly sensitive. Even the gentle breeze billowing through your tent makes you pant and squirm.

The maddening ache demands relief. You rip off your soaked shorts and fling them away. Pushing your damp panties to the side, you hump your hand, all thoughts of dignity replaced by an animalistic craving. There is only want, only desperation.

It’s not enough.

Your scent fills the tent, nearly suffocating. Repeatedly inhaling the smell of your want is going to drive you insane. You need air!

“Fuck,” you whimper, weakly pushing to your knees. Trembling, feverish, you crawl to the tent entrance, unzip the mesh screen, and tumble out into the dirt. Sucking in lungfuls of fresh air clears your fuzzy head, if only a little.

As you lay still and breathe, you listen to the nighttime melodies. Crickets chirp, frogs croak, mocking birds call for mates. Leaves rustle in a soft wind. Rodents scurry through the undergrowth. It begins to sound like a lullaby—

CRACK

With a jolt, you sit upright. A branch had broken somewhere in the thicket behind your tent. Your ears strain, eyes darting around, searching the darkness. A full moon shines overhead, but the canopy above obscures the light it offers. Trees and shrubs take on monstrous form in the gloom, their twisted branches like spindly arms, reaching for you.

Rustling to your left now. Your heart slams against your ribs. Foliage crunches under heavy boots. Moonlight illuminates a hulking shadow slinking between the trees.

Something massive stalks through the brush just out of sight.

Rooted to the ground, you shake like a leaf in the wind. You’re so weak; fight will be out of the question. Flight is only option that remains.

You won’t make it far, though.

As you silently panic and weigh your escape options, a shadowy figure steps into the clearing. They are huge, well over six feet. You can’t make out any features, backlit as they are by the moonlight.

Sudden terror gives you a burst of strength and you stagger to your feet. You launch yourself into the trees, a weak cry leaving your throat when thunderous footfalls give chase Fear forces you into a sprint, makes you ignore the pain in your bare feet when they split open and bleed on fallen branches.

Your stumbling makes a racket, gasping breaths and crashing feet a cacophony in the quiet forest. Trees race past, but it isn’t long until helplessness seeps back into your muscles. You slow, your trembling legs barely able to hold your weight.

Vines you can’t see in the dark ensnare your clumsy feet. You smash into the ground, pain blooming along your palms, knees, and behind your eyes. A tangy, metallic scent invades your nostrils. Stunned and disoriented, you wonder why your face feels wet. When you touch your upper lip, your fingers come away black. Your nose bleeds freely down your face, your blood inky black in the darkness.

Boots stomp behind you. Your pursuer is mere feet away. Heart leaping into your throat, you whip onto your back.

A man stands before you—a tall, broad shouldered, powerful man. His chest heaves, his deep breaths like a gale in the quiet grove. At his sides, his hands are balled into fists.

He takes a measured step closer and a swath of moonlight illuminates his face. You see dark, shoulder length hair, a furrowed brow, but what catches your attention is the leather mask he wears across the lower half of his face.

You’re about to wonder at its use, but then the wind changes.

His scent washes over you and every muscle in your body seizes. Fresh cut oak, sharp citrus, heady musk, and old blood assault your senses, his smell overpowering even the metallic scent of your bleeding nose. You’re struck dumb, frozen in place, mouth hanging open in shock.

Alpha.

Never have you been immobilized by the mere scent of an alpha. He hasn’t even spoken. No commands have left his mouth, yet you’ve already surrendered, submitted in every sense. Between your legs, you throb, slick gushing from your cunt and further drenching your underwear.

The alpha twitches and breaks free of the momentary trance that held the two of you. Slowly, he drops to his knees. There is conflict in his body language as he crawls to you, like he’s fighting the urge to pounce and tear you to shreds.

He’s trying not to scare you, trying to hold himself back.

But why?

A tremulous breath spills past your parted lips and your legs automatically fall open to accommodate the alpha’s huge frame. The shivering starts up again, your body combusting when he hovers over you.

His eyes meet yours; you can’t discern their color in the dark, but they watch you so intently, tracing every inch of your face. You go lax under his scrutiny, your head dropping back into the dirt and tipping to the side.

The alpha’s gaze darts to the exposed flesh of your neck, to your face, then back again. Hesitantly, he dips his head until his hair tickles your face and the leather of the mask drags up the column of your throat.

You groan at the touch, oversensitive skin prickling. Over and over, he inhales deeply, drowning himself in your scent. You whimper and arch, hips rolling so you grind up against him.

He startles at the contact, thick fingers flying to your hip to hold you still. A whimper leaves you and your nails rake impatiently through the dirt.

“P-Please, I…I need…I need…please h-help me,” you beg, your voice so pathetically weak and shaky, but you ache so deep, so intensely you can think of nothing else. Your legs burn with desire you can’t control. You are certain if you aren’t bred by this alpha now you will die.

The alpha’s own breaths tremble, mirroring the shaking of the hand on your hip. With a sharp inhale, his nails dig into the fabric of your panties, twist, and rip. You gasp and nod, near delirious with want.

He looks at you again, his eyes wide and wild. He’s teetering on the edge, seconds from losing composure. You stare back, pleading with your eyes, reassuring him, urging him on. In your chest, your frenzied heart hammers.

He swallow thickly. Sitting back, he fumbles with his trousers. You hear the clink of a belt, the pop of the button, the slide of the zipper. Hot, thick flesh rests on your mound as he leans forward and you keen at the feel.

Your hips tilt immediately, as though they have a mind of their own. Slick folds slide up and down the alpha’s girth; just this is nearly enough to make you cum. Finally, he makes a sound, like he’s choking on a groan.

Fingers trail along your inner thigh and hesitate before prodding your cunt. It’s tentative, his touch. Exploratory. Your lust-addled brain can’t fathom why he seems so unsure.

You suck in air through your teeth when his digits sink into slick warmth. He gives a few experimental thrusts, which elicit a sweet, little mewl from you. Your slippery walls squeeze his fingers, the wet slide audible even over your gasps.

Your sounds break his resolve. The alpha growls. He rips his fingers from your dripping hole and hastily guides his cock to your entrance. It takes a few tries before he finds it again, the tip of his cock running up and down between your lips until you sob in desperation.

All the air leaves your lungs when he slips inside, surges forward, and buries every thick inch deep in your cunt. Your hands fly to his shoulders, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt when you immediately climax, the relief of finally being filled shoving you over the threshold into ecstasy.

The alpha utters a strangled groan as he grips your waist, his shoulders tensing under your hands. You feel it then, the spreading warmth of his seed. He came with you?

But oh, he’s still hard as stone within you. Trembling with barely contained desire, he gives an experimental buck of his hips. Your teeth sink into your lip, your cry muffed behind your teeth.

He leans down over you, buries his face in the crook of your neck so you can whisper in his ear, “P-Please don’t s-stop, please, please I need-need you, it’s…it hurts….”

You don’t finish, the rest of your words lost in a shriek when the alpha slams into you. His thrusts are uncoordinated and sloppy, but you help, raising your hips to meet his until he matches your rhythm.

The forest soon echoes with your pleasure; his strained groans, your high moans, the rustle of foliage under your back and the wet smack of flesh. You nuzzle your face into his own neck, the alpha’s powerful scent making you dizzy. All thoughts are replaced with sensation, your only focus the feeling of the cock battering your insides.

The heat raging in your belly turns scorching. You feel the alpha’s knot beginning to swell and a possessive urge takes over, making your wrap your legs around his hips. You’ve never needed anything more in your life, you’re certain.

When you reach the precipice once again, you don’t have the presence of mind to warn him, but you’re sure he can feel it in the way your slick muscles clench around his length. With a rumbling moan, he shoves his knot into your spasming channel and you scream, eyes rolling back, every muscle pulled taut in blinding euphoria.

Panting, heart thrumming, sweat beading along your brow, you gradually return to earth. Your fingers ache from gripping the alpha so tightly. With difficulty, you pry them from his shirt. Your quivering legs slip off his sides and fall bonelessly to the ground.

The knot seated within you and the spend filling you work to quell the unchecked desire racing through your veins, if only for a little while. The heat will soon return with fervor.

With climax comes clarity, the needy haze in your mind lifting and making way for rational thought. Two things become immediately apparent: One, you have just been bred by absolute stranger, an alpha who had found you in the middle of the forest. Your scent must have drawn him, but where did he come from? You don’t even know his name, for fuck’s sake.

And two: This alpha is a virgin. Or rather, he used to be. The hesitance, the fumbling, the immediate release when he’d entered you…. In the moment, your want-driven mind couldn’t connect the dots.

You let your head fall back. The alpha’s eyes meet yours, but quickly look away again. Is that shame, you see? Fear? Again, you wonder why he wears the mask.

Tentatively, you reach up and push the sweaty hair off his brow. Your fingertips trace the side of his face, your palm coming to rest on his masked cheek. Cautiously, he lifts his gaze to yours.

You clear your throat and murmur, “Um, hi.” You tell him your name and ask, “Can…can you, um, talk?” The man shakes his head and looks away. You nod and gently press his cheek to get his eyes back on you.

“It’s okay. Maybe…maybe you could write your name down for me? When…you know, when we can….” you trail off with a breathy laugh. You feel his cheek grow warm under your fingertips.

One of the alpha’s hands leaves your hip. He brings a finger to the exposed skin under your collarbone. Deliberately, he begins to trace and you realize he’s spelling out his name.

T-H-O-M-A-S

“Thomas?” He nods and you swear you feel his face briefly lift in a grin. You smile back. “Well, Thomas, um. Thank you for helping me, but it’s…uh, it’s gonna get bad here in a minute again so….” As you speak, you feel his knot begin to shrink. You talk faster, “So, I know my scent right now is…how hard it is to think when you’re…so if you want to get away, now might be a good—

You bite your lip when a deluge of cum spills down your ass to drip into the dirt. A whiny moan crawls up your throat. You want to curse the way your core pulses, your insides just beginning to smolder.

Thomas inhales deeply. You know your pores are leaking hunger yet again. Before you can speak, the world lurches.

Thomas grasps you around the middle and flips onto your front. Impatiently, he lifts your hips up, hard cock grinding against your slit. He’s bolder this time, more sure of himself when he buries his girth deep in your guts.

Now, at least you have a name to scream.

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #the texas chainsaw massacre #tcm the beginning #texas chainsaw massacre the beginning #leatherface #leatherface x reader #thesightstoshowyou #this took FOREVER #the words weren’t wording #I hope it’s okay

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