CheekySwitchBxtch

flowereW

"run."

that was the last thing he said to you before he shoved you out of the passenger side door of his car and into the cold of the night. you're not sure where you were, only that you were way out of the city. he'd driven for what felt like hours; out into the sticks. neon lights turning to starlight and rolling hills.

the ground was hard under your bare feet; dirt clinging to your toes as you ran until your lungs burned. until your sides ached. slipping into the edge of a wooded area and pressing your back against the bark of a tree until each gulp of oxygen wasn't effort.

you let your eyes adjust to the extra layer of darkness that's enveloping you, leaves blocking out the already flimsy light of the moon.

and then you run, again. no direction in mind, just moving away from him.

ghost watches from afar. tracking. watching the way your dress billows out behind you. the way your hair whips around your shoulders in the wind.

“beautiful.” he thinks to himself.

when you disappear between the trees he reaches up to adjust his mask before following the sound of your footsteps at a jog. there's no real effort in the movement, just a lazy controlled pace.

unlike you that's scrabbling around barefoot in the dark, stumbling over knotted roots and rabbit holes.

tracking you is easy. he's got training that you simply… don't. he hears every crack of twigs or crunch of leaves; every hitched breath that you try to swallow away.

sometimes he thinks he can smell you - a waft of vanilla that drew him to you in the first place.

it doesn't take long for him to catch you. to wrap his hand in your hair and pull you to a stop as you screech; nails scrabbling behind your head to dig into his hand.

he doesn't flinch. he just laughs.

your knees hit the ground first; palms colliding with the earth next. you twist in his grip - clawing at any inch of exposed skin you can find. snapping your teeth over your shoulder like that should somehow be a threat.

but you freeze when his arm wraps around your throat; bicep pressing just enough against your carotid that it's a warning.

“now, now little rabbit. you knew what would happen if I caught you, didn't you? so settle the fuck down.” his breath ghosts over your ear; the wool of his balaclava catching against your cheek. “two options. you let me fuck your pretty cunt right here an’ i take you home, or i can just leave you to whatever the fuck lurks in these woods at night. pick.”

your thighs press together when he says fuck your pretty cunt right here; instinctual, habitual.

he sees. if course he sees. his free hand finds the hem of your dress, flipping it up over your waist.

“fuck it is then. good choice. be a waste to see ‘em find yer body in a few days.”

there's a rip as his fingers hook into the gusset of your panties and tears the fabric in two and you let out a pitiful whine as cold air hits your cunt.

“look at you.” he mutters, pressing his thumb against your clit just to watch you flinch away from the touch. fingers parting your folds just to see the way you're already slick and glistening in the moonlight.

his arm around your neck tightens. just slightly. you gasp at the pressure.

you hear the sound of a zip behind you, feel him shifting.

then the blunt head of his cock swiping over your cunt before pressing at your entrance. you try and crawl away. he digs his fingers into your hip to keep you still.

you feel the moment he puts his weight behind it; the moment he bullies himself inside you. the stretch is immediate; intense. painful enough that you hiss through your teeth.

he doesn't stop. just pulls back an inch so he can push in two more. slow, shallow thrusts designed to open you up to him. and it works. because soon enough he's buried inside you to the hilt; head nudging at your cervix in a way that makes your stomach tense and you brain go fuzzy. “there we go. look at you takin’ me so well, little rabbit.”

his arm around your throat loosens and you take in a shuddering breath before your face meets dirt; his hand spanning the back of your head to press your cheek into the half frozen ground. his other arm hooks round your waist; holding you perfectly in position for him.

he pulls out, almost all the way, before slamming back inside you so hard you keen; high pitched and pathetic.

he fucks you like that. hard, deep. no reprieve. his heavy balls slap against your clit with each snap of his hips, air driven from your lungs each time he buries himself fully inside you.

the heat in your lower stomach builds embarrassingly quickly; cunt tensing around his cock so hard he hisses. “go on then. cum on my cock whilst your covered in fuckin’ dirt. fuckin’ slut.”

you're not sure what tips you over the edge; the degradation or the way he snaps his hips against your ass again.

either way, it works. you cum with a muffled cry into the ground; gushing around his cock in a flood you can hear when he slams inside you next, sickeningly wet noises that drag a growl out of him.

it doesn't take him long to follow; not with the way your perfect cunt is clenching around him. you feel his cock twitch inside you; his balls tighten against your clit.

when he spills himself inside you it's with a grunt; pelvis to ass as hot cum floods you, right up against the entrance to your womb.

there's nothing but the sound of both your breath and crickets in the dark for a long, long second.

you feel his weight settle over your back, masked face nudging at your cheek to make you look at him. he hooks the balaclava up enough to press a kiss against your forehead.

“tha’ what you wanted love? too much? not enough?”

your lips twitch upwards lazily, “just right, si. but can we go now? shouldn't have done this in fucking february. i'm cold.” a beat and then, “thanks. for ‘kidnapping’ me. we should do it again.”

he rolls his eyes but he's grinning too. “anytime, love. let's get you home shall we?"

naughty not sorry

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