#lee bodecker

“You lost, little lady?” One of them comes up to you first, plastering on a salacious grin that has you crinkling your nose. 

“No, just looking for the sheriff. Is he in right now?”

“Well, I’m sure I can help you with whatever it is you need.”

Your lips curl into a sour grimace. “Whatever it is you’re offering, I’m not interested.” Laughter scatters throughout the station as the officer’s smile wipes from his face. “Now, the sheriff?”

“Straight through the back.”

“Thank you.”

At first, they think it’s a fluke. Some new-to-town city girl who got herself into a bit of trouble and wants the highest-ranking officer to help. 

Because why is someone like you — fresh-faced, devastatingly gorgeous, inappropriately young — looking for a sleazy geezer like the sheriff?

But then it happens again and again and again. 

You keep coming back. You keep asking for Lee. 

Each time you come in with a cute little bag, each time you leave without it. 

Each evening, everyone watches as Lee leaves with that blue plaid lunch bag in tow. 

Once, after you leave, Lee steps out into the bullpen to heat his lunch. His colleagues take that as the prime opportunity to pounce. 

“Lee, come on, be honest now. Where’d you pick that gal up? She your niece or something?” Tommy asks first. “She single?”

The sheriff gives him a disgusted look. “Watch your tongue, Deputy, else I’ll shoot it right outta your mouth. That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

Once again, laughter ripples through the room. Except their boss isn’t laughing. Lee cocks an eyebrow at Tommy. 

“That a problem?”

“N-no, but that gal? Your wife? Really?”

“What about it?”

Tommy opens his mouth but the fear of losing his job has him clamping his mouth shut again. Luckily, Stu has never had a problem with uncensoring his raw thoughts when it comes to his good friend. “What he means is — what’s a pretty young thing like that doin’ with a man like you, Sheriff?”

Lee only scowls. “I have many redeeming qualities.”

“Hopefully that means your di—”

“Finish that sentence and I’m putting you on overnight patrol for the rest of the month. Maybe on the wrong side of town.” 

Sure enough, the next time you come around, Stu has to confirm for himself. 

And there it is — the big fat rock on your finger. 

You don’t make it to your husband’s room before you’re intercepted and surrounded by the entire station; granted, it’s a small department but you’re still circled by these hyenas nonetheless. 

“Honey, you have to tell us, what do you see in an old grump like the sheriff?” Stu starts with a grin. 

You can’t help the dreamy smile that stretches across your face. “Grump? The sheriff? Please. He’s a big ol’ softie. You should’ve seen what he prepared for Valentine’s Day — flooded our living room with flowers, cooked me dinner, even danced with me in the kitchen to Sinatra.”

All of them are convinced they’ve entered the Twilight Zone. Sheriff Lee Bodecker? Flowers? Cooking? Dancing? 

“You’re pullin’ my leg,” Stu insists, “that man’s diet consists of beer and burgers. Store-bought only.”

Your lips twitch. “I do like me a man who can eat.”

Stu wiggles his eyebrows. “You tellin’ me that our boss is a mu—”

“That’s enough,” Lee’s voice snaps like a whip to disperse most of them back to their desks. Unfortunately, his best friend has no fear and continues to tease him relentlessly throughtout the rest of the day. 

When he comes home in the evening, sinking into his beloved armchair with a cool beer in hand, you settle right down on his lap. His wide frame trapped between your supple thighs. 

“The guys weren’t giving you a hard time, were they?” He murmurs, hand sliding down your back to your ass — practically exposed as your little nightgown rides up — as you curl into him like a kitten, nuzzling your face into his thick neck.

You hum, the vibrations going straight through his skin and down to his cock. “No, it was all in good fun, Sheriff.”

Lee’s pants stiffen underneath you. You smile. He’s always been so easy to rile up. 

“Sheriff, huh?” He grunts, “Why don’t you be a good wife and warm this sheriff’s cock, sweetheart?”

You don’t miss a beat, hands peeling down his zipper to free his thick cock. One thing Stu got right — his dick is definitely a big perk to being Lee’s wife. You’re dripping at the sight of it, mouth salivating like a trained dog as you flip the hem of your skirt up, as you sink yourself down facing him.

His cock stretches out your poor aching cunt, still sore from when he fucked you good the night before. It’s a burn that has you whining in delight.  

“That’s a good wife,” Lee softly says, kissing down the column of your neck. His cool fingers, now free of the beer bottle, reach up to grope you through the flimsy silk of your gown, pinching at your pert nipples. His touch seeps icy cold onto your skin, eliciting a shiver up your spine. 

“Mmm, Sheriff, please,” you wriggle on his lap, pushing his cock deeper into your pulsing pussy.

“Let me watch my show, sweetie. I’m gonna need you to be a good, quiet cocksleeve for me. Can you do that?”

A whimper builds in your chest but you nod quietly, hiding your face in his neck again as he picks up his beer and continues watching his show. 

It’s disgustingly arousing to see your husband, much too old for you, a belly that protrudes in a puzzle piece that usually fits so snugly into the arch of your back, offer little to no attention to you. You’re used to the hungry eyes that follow you everywhere. But Lee — while he loves you — doesn’t spoil you that way.

Instead, he barely pays you any mind as he takes another swig of his beer. 

It only makes you needier for him. You wiggle impatiently, swiveling your hips to drive him deeper inside you. Petulant whines fall from your lips. “Lee, please.” 

“What is it, darlin’?”

“Need you,” you pout, grinding your hips down again. 

Lee remains unfazed but his cock twitches inside of you, betraying his wanton need. No matter how much he pretends, there’s a reason why Lee locked you down with a ring so early, so quickly. 

“Such an impatient little minx. If only the guys knew how much of a needy slut you were, they wouldn’t be asking why you’d want to be with a man like me.”

“I only need you, Lee. Only need you and this fat cock to satisfy me.”

Lee lifts his hips in stuttered thrusts. You slump over him, relishing in the way he keeps muttering what a good wife you are, a good little cockwarmer for him. How your young pussy was made for this old cock. 

His fingers bruise evidence of his love on your hips, his mouth imprinting his territorial marks along your collarbones. His cock reshaping your cunt to fit him and only him. 

Through it all, he doesn’t stop whispering what a sweet wife you are. How perfect you are for him. 

And when is all is said and done, when Lee has creamed inside of you and is keeping you plugged up with his cock, he brushes your hair to the side, pressing a kiss onto your shoulder.

“I love you, sweetie.”

“I love you more, Lee.”

+ sam: ilysm bbl you have no idea <33 intended for it to just be cute and we ended up here (as always)

lee is arresting (taglist): @houseofhyde @its-in-the-woods @phoenix-in-writing @tofuonfaiya @avengersfan25 @miraclediviner @hailmary-yramliah @catclaw1 @blowingbarnes @stanmarvelous @esunarint @heldbybarnes @nikkitabarnes @captain-shannon-becker @sergeantsebastian @natskisses @parker-barnes-af @sarah1barnes @angelryex @evelynstanmarvel @lokisgirlie @mathcat345 @winnichu173 @zhaixiaowen @c3liaaaaa @buckysdecaflove @larissabarnes @macbaetwo @blobfishlol @erina00 @idkbeautiful @globetrotter28 @rach2602 @star-yawnznn @fruitypebsworld @awkwardgiraffe726

July 2026

James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes

by @fckmebarnes

🌸open wide | +18

by @societyfolklore

🌸Nearly Drove Me

🌸Rhythm of My Heart

🌸Because Maybe

🌸Overstepping

by @phoenix-in-writing

🌸Burning Up | Following the events of the Battle of Thanos, your powers become unstable.

🌸Red String | There have been many, MANY days in Bucky's life. But none really as important as this one.

🌸Bandaged Wounds | Tasked with providing aid for the 107th Army division, what happens when the man you love doesn't return from a mission?

🌸This Old Bar | The last place you expected to find him was a bar next to your apartment where he broke your heart.

🌸Down in Louisiana | Attending a Wilson family cookout always brought along surprises. You just hadn't expected a certain metal armed man to be the biggest one.

🌸The Bet | While trying to win a bet, your boyfriend has to step in to make sure you don't cause any trouble.

🌸Too Many Miles | Long distance relationships aren't for the weak.

by @jamesbbcrnes

🌸ELECTRIC

🌸THROUGH THE STORM

🌸SILENT HEARTBREAK

🌸BIRTHDAY GIRL!

🌸SQUABBLE

🌸WORTH YOUR WHILE

🌸FOREVER STARTS TONIGHT

🌸CLANDESTINE

🌸TRYING TO BE BETTER

🌸HUSH, HUSH, DARLING

🌸REPERCUSSIONS

🌸Roommate by @venigrantrogers | +18 | Bucky Barnes Loves Your Vibrator

🌸Challenge Accepted by @mickimoo1409 | +18 | Bucky let's you know of a problem he has in the bedroom, you take it as a personal challenge.

🌸Ouija Board by @navybrat817 | You and your friend play with a Ouija board in your new home.

🌸Tune In To The Radio by @w1nter-fairy | After another exhausting day working as Congressman Barnes' assistant, all you want is a cup of tea and a quiet evening with your grandfather's old radio. What you don't expect is a love confession hidden between the static and the music.

🌸ROCK-A-BYE BABY by @winteryn | when you have no choice but to bring your baby to lectures, mr. barnes reluctantly allows it. what follows is a semester of confused students, increasingly suspicious acts of kindness, one very attached baby, and a strict professor who becomes far too invested for anyone’s peace of mind.

🌸girl next door by @wwinterwitch | 14k | +18 | bucky's feeling so lonely that he developed a little obsession with a camgirl, unaware that she's his neighbor

Tangled by @vunblr | +18 | series | Between fear and fascination, a solitary creature struggles to protect his shore -and himself- after an unexpected encounter with a curious human woman makes him question everything he thought he knew about trust, danger, and boundaries.

Benjamin "Dex" "Bullseye" Poindexter

🌸dex vs. the emoji industrial complex by @vigilantekisser | dex has zero social media literacy and doesn't know wtf you're talking about.

by @aquaticmercy

🌸Brass Knuckles | 9k | You are not the only person hunting Anti-Vigilante Task Force. Luckily, your “competition” is Benjamin Poindexter. 

🌸Break a Heart, Make a Monster | 8k | Meeting Dex for the first time in two years doesn’t go as planned.

🌸Art for Art's Sake | +18 | 13k | Dex has a growing obsession with his neighbor. Little did he know, the feeling is mutual.

🌸No Absolution | +18 | 20k | Mr. Charles assigns Benjamin Poindexter a new partner: a super soldier who may not be over her ex. Too bad Dex has never been good at sharing, and he’s determined to make her forget anyone ever touched her before him.

🌸HEAR ME OUT | where you cheat on your fiancé with Dex because your fiancé is cheating on you.

🌸Bubbles | 16k | Dex is starting to learn that his sweet girl is much more capable of taking care of herself than he realized

🌸Can I Be Close To You? | Benjamin Poindexter confesses that he has been obsessively fantasizing about a domestic future with you.

🌸The Heart is a Muscle | +18 | 17k | Benjamin Poindexter was hired to eliminate you, a former Red Room Widow. Unfortunately, he keeps putting it off because he likes going on dates with you a little too much.

🌸Like Real People Do | Dex finds a getaway bag under your side of the bed and assumes the worst.

🌸Aim High | Dex realizes his son is trying to copy his aim.

🌸HEAR ME OUT! | +18 | Dex becomes a lifeguard after being discharged from the army instead of working at the suicide hotline.

🌸One Woman Show | +18 | Dex gets embarrassingly turned on watching you interrogate people.

🌸Snap Out Of It! | 15k | Dex finds your ex-boyfriend bleeding and crawling through your bedroom window.

🌸Dex Finds a Better Use For Your Abuser’s Grave | +18 | Dex was fucking you over your abuser’s grave.

🌸Dex is Naturally More Submissive | +18

🌸Football | +18 | where you are assigned to media-train him. 

🌸Glitterbomb | +18 | Dex tries to leave you for your own good. You both know it won’t last. 

🌸Little Monster | Your first date with Dex turns out to be an unforgettable one.

🌸Greek myth | +18 | where Artemis sends Dex, a virgin hunter, to protect you, a daughter of Zeus.

🌸The Lesser Disaster | Matt discovers Dex has a son.

🌸Pegging Benjamin Poindexter  | +18

🌸Dex Finds Himself a “Good Girl”

🌸stalker by @saintlea | +18 | oh nothing just stalker!bullseye and babydoll!reader

by winteryn

🌸DIZZY, DITZY, DARLING | while the world reacts to dex like a threat, you interpret the constant stares as admiration, convinced your boyfriend is just effortlessly captivating, and completely unaware that what others are actually responding to is the violence he carries so quietly.

🌸Right Through the Heart by phoenix-in-writing | He's the best contracted killer Valentina could ask for. You just never expected to be in this position.

🌸Dex is a lingo thief by @honeybeechestnut | He mimics everything you say.

🌸god's country by @poindextergirl | +18 | nun!reader finds benjamin poindexter at the altar of her church seeking absolution.

🌸When in Rome by @softly-potter | +18 | series | After leaving New York with Mr. Charles, Dex finds himself in Italy, doing his bidding. When he’s tasked with surveillance on a spoiled daughter of a prominent family, he doesn’t think much of it. Things become complicated, however, when he meets her best friend; you.

🌸boyfriend!Dex by @sun-snatcher | fluff

by @n3ptoonz

🌸Brat tamer!reader | +18 | fbi

🌸Brat tamer!reader | +18 | Ddba

🌸Prone with fbi!dex vs ddba!dex

🌸polaroids by @nghtwngs | +18 | keeping a collection of polaroids taken of them fucking you

by navybrat817

🌸Let's Just Talk | You witness something you shouldn't have, and Bullseye just wants to talk.

🌸Pen Pal | Dex gets a pen pal while he's locked up.

🌸Cry Baby! by @dontyouworrydaddy | jealous reader look like

Other

by @societyfolklore

🌸Nothing I Can Do | Max Burnett x Reader

🌸Slurred Confessions | Lee Bodecker x Reader

🌸Another | Lance Tucker x Reader

🌸Don’t Want to Talk | Lee Bodecker x Reader

🌸Control | Nick Fowler x Reader

🌸Starting to Crawl | Lee Bodecker x Reader

🌸Nothing Left | Destoryer!Chris x Reader

by phoenix-in-writing

🌸In the Clouds | Chris Beck x Reader | While on a mission on the International Space Station, your boyfriend Chris makes time for a video call.

🌸Heart of Gold | Guy Moratz x Reader | An incredibly important audition has Guy up at all hours of the night. Good thing he has you to keep him company.

🌸A Few Too Many | Mickey Henry x Reader | Maybe meeting a DJ on your trip to Greece wasn't so bad after all...

🌸Cuffed | Lee Bodecker x Reader | It was high time the Sheriff taught you a lesson about mouthing off.

🌸Wild at Heart | Chris Beck x Reader | You run into Chris Beck - quite literally - on campus.

🌸Grecian Liquor | Mickey Henry x Reader | A trip to Greece to forget a shitty relationship has you falling (literally) in the arms of someone just hot enough to help.

🌸At The Corner | Max Burnett x Reader | Max has a very...interesting way of making sure you remember the script of his next scam.

🌸Pancakes at the Diner | Charles Blackwood x Reader | When someone shows up claiming to be the heir of the Blackwood fortune, you can almost see a way out of this sleepy town.

🌸Office Visit | Lee Bodecker x Reader | Lee Bodecker only had a couple of rules to ensure your safety when he had to work nights. But you really never were good at following the rules.

🌸An Italian Adventure | Charles Blackwood x Reader | The man who hired you is planning on leaving, but you really need this job.

🌸A Thousand Years | Steve Kemp x Reader | Needing to feed for sustenance, you capture a man who proceeds to bargain his way out of your clutches.

🌸Between Us by @stanmarvelous | +18 | Lee Bodecker x Reader | series | Coming home from college to find your ma had remarried was certainly a surprise, but less so than the antics that would soon follow. You both know it’s wrong, but neither of you can find the will to stop.

🌸What a Sight by navybrat817 | Hal Carter x Reader | Hal is such a beautiful sight in the morning.

🌸dad best friend by @mrsmaxwelllord | Shane Maguire x Reader | +18 | Shane Maguire follows you to your room while the party continues downstairs

🌸im too old for you by @mayhemi | Shane Maguire x Reader | +18

by @clawxmoon

🌸DISTANT LOVER | Shane Maguire x Reader | +18 | when you left you took all of me with you

🌸riding that old man shane on the couch | +18 | Shane Maguire x Reader

🌸locked and loaded by @ifawnn | Shane Maguire x Reader | +18 | you try to prove you're strong by sneaking up on shane and fucking yourself on his cock while hes tied up !!!

🌸i know by @sheriff-bodecker | tj hammond x reader

<part17 | library | part19>

Then three knocks came. Sharp and heavy.

You moved your feet to the door and your stomach sank even before you opened it.

Officer James Barnes stood on your porch, leaning on the frame like he owned it. The uniform clung tight across his chest, his badge glinting in the light, and the shadow of his cap cut across eyes that were already looking you over.

“Well, ain’t this cozy,” he drawled, his gaze flicking past you into your kitchen. “Smells good.”

You tightened your grip on the door, pulse skipping. “Can I help you, Officer?”

He tilted his head, smirking. “Funny thing. Got a call about some noise comin’ from this place. Neighbors say you’ve been a little… disruptive.” His voice was lazy, thick with amusement.

You frowned. “I was just cooking dinner.”

“Mm.” He stepped closer, close enough that you had to step back or let him brush against you. “Guess I better check things out myself. Can’t ignore a complaint.”

He didn’t wait for permission. Just pushed past you, boots heavy against your floorboards, filling your little kitchen with the smell of smoke and whiskey.

“Nice place,” he said, slow, deliberate, as his eyes slid over the counter, the stove… and then back to you. “Shame if a girl like you ended up on the wrong side of the law.”

Your arms folded across your chest, though it didn’t do much to steady the nerves crawling up your spine. “What is that supposed to mean? I haven’t done anything.”

Bucky’s tongue pressed against his cheek as he gave a slow nod, like he was humoring you. His eyes didn’t leave yours, though, sharp under the brim of his cap.

“Sure,” he said finally, voice low and easy. “That’s what they all say.”

He drifted closer to the counter, his fingers brushing along the edge like he was inspecting it, like it was evidence. He picked up your glass of wine, swirled it once, then set it back down with a soft clink.

“You know how it works in a place like this, don’t you, sweetheart?” His smile was too wide, too knowing. “Doesn’t really matter if you’ve done somethin’. All it takes is me writing it down.”

Your throat tightened. “You can’t just—”

“Can’t? Darlin’, I’m the law here.” His lips curved slow and cruel, an expression that wasn’t a smile so much as a warning. 

You froze. The word died in your throat, leaving only the sound of your pulse hammering in your ears.

For a moment, nothing happened. Just the weight of his eyes on you, heavy, deliberate. You couldn’t even tell if he was waiting for an answer or simply enjoying the way your nerves were unraveling.

And then the truth hit you.

It didn’t matter what you had or hadn’t done. In this town, his word was enough. Every shopkeeper tipped their hat when he walked by. Every neighbor lowered their voice when his cruiser rolled down the street. People looked away because it was easier. Because he owned this place, street by street, door by door.

Your little house wasn’t any different.

The smirk stayed on his face, as if he could hear the thoughts tumbling through your head. As if he already knew you were realizing just how small you were here—and how large his shadow really was.

He shifted his weight forward, one boot scraping against the tile as he took a slow, deliberate step closer.

Instinctively, you moved back, the counter biting into your spine as you tried to create even the smallest sliver of space. But there wasn’t much kitchen left to retreat into—he knew it, you knew it.

“That’s the problem with girls like you,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, smoother, as if he were letting you in on some private joke. “You think you’ve got choices.”

Your palms pressed against the counter, fingers curling tight around the edge. His nearness smelled of leather and stale smoke, the metallic tang of his badge catching the light just inches from you.

“You keep tellin’ yourself you’re safe ‘cause you haven’t done nothin’ wrong.” He leaned just enough that the brim of his cap shadowed your face, forcing your eyes up to his. “But safe? Safe don’t exist here. Not unless I say so.”

The words slid through you, cold and certain, and for a heartbeat you hated yourself for noticing the way he didn’t even raise his voice. He didn’t have to. Every syllable felt like it was backed by the whole town—the quiet streets, the neighbors who wouldn’t meet your eyes, the sheriff’s cruiser parked like a sentinel.

And now, him.

He smirked again, slower this time, like he could feel your chest tighten against the press of his presence. “That’s right,” he whispered. “You’re startin’ to understand.”

Your heels bumped the cupboards, the last bit of retreat gone. He kept moving until his chest nearly brushed yours, until the air itself seemed to thicken with his closeness.

You turned your face away, desperate to focus on anything but the weight of his gaze but his hand came up fast, calloused fingers gripping your chin. The pressure wasn’t bruising, not yet, but it was unyielding as he forced your head back toward him.

“Mm-mm,” he drawled, his thumb pressing against the line of your jaw. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

Your breath caught, sharp and shallow, as his cruel smile deepened.

“See, I been watchin’ you a while now,” he said, slow and deliberate, every word dripping with the satisfaction of finally speaking it aloud. “Out on your porch with your laundry. Walkin’ through town with that little sway in your step. Those pretty dresses you like to wear—don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

His eyes dragged down over you, lingering, devouring.

“You tempt a man without even tryin’,” he murmured, leaning closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “And you think that don’t come with consequences?”

Your throat worked as you tried to breathe, his grip on your chin making it impossible to look anywhere but into those sharp blue eyes.

“Well?” he coaxed, voice dipping lower, darker. “You gonna tell me you didn’t want my attention? Hm? After all the times you paraded yourself ‘round town in those little slutty dresses?”

The words burned, humiliating, but the worst part was the flicker of truth they struck inside you.

Well, yeah. Maybe you did have a little crush on him. Maybe you did straighten your posture when you saw his cruiser on Main Street. Maybe you did linger on your porch just a little longer, hoping he’d glance your way. He was handsome. Powerful. And when his eyes landed on you, it made your stomach flip in ways you couldn’t explain.

But this? His hand on your chin, his body caging you in, his voice dripping ownership…  

You hadn’t asked for this.

Your lips parted, the confession tumbling out small, shaky. “I… I wanted you to notice me, but—”

He huffed, satisfaction flashing across his face like he’d just won something. He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting your lips.

“Knew it,” he murmured. “Knew you were temptin’ me on purpose. Little tease.”

His chest pressed flush to yours now, the counter digging into your back as if the kitchen itself were conspiring to trap you. You tried to shift sideways, but his body followed, closing every escape before you could even think of it.

And then you felt it—him—hard, thick, pressing against your hip through the stiff fabric of his uniform. Your breath caught, shame flooding hot in your veins.

He knew you felt it. That smug smirk deepened, his grip on your chin firming as he angled your face just so.

“Pretty girl,” he drawled, the words a mockery of tenderness. “You went and got me all worked up, didn’t you? Walkin’ ‘round, makin’ me think about what’s under that fabric.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, but his thumb brushed your jaw, forcing them open again.

“Don’t look away now,” he murmured, voice a low rasp. “Not after you begged for my eyes on you all this time. You wanted me to notice… and I did.”

His hips shifted, grinding just enough for you to feel the thick press of him again.

“You feel that?” he murmured, his lips brushing close to your ear. “You feel what you did to me?”

Your pulse thudded in your neck. You closed your eyes again for a quick moment, hoping this was just a cruel dream. Just a nightmare you’d wake up from soon.

It wasn’t.

He chuckled low, dark, the sound vibrating through his chest against yours. “Couldn’t take it anymore. You lookin’ so damn sweet, makin’ me hard every time I laid eyes on you.” His hand slid from your chin to your throat, his thumb resting just under your jaw.

“That’s why I’m here, pretty girl. Had to come all this way ‘cause I can’t take you teasin’ me any longer. You pushed me too far.”

His hand left your throat only to trail down, rough palm skimming the fabric of your dress before tugging it upward, inch by inch. The hem rose over your thighs, the cool air of the kitchen brushing bare skin where it shouldn’t.

You jerked, pressing back into the counter as if you could melt into it, but his body caged you in tight, unmovable. His other hand clamped down on your thigh, the weight of it hot and heavy, spreading you just enough that the threat was clear.

“Look at you,” he rasped, eyes drinking in every flicker of panic on your face. “Tryin’ to act innocent, but we both know better.” His fingers dug in, a bruising reminder of who held control.

“You’re gonna admit it,” he whispered, leaning close enough for his breath to drag hot across your cheek. “Gonna say you wanted me. That you’ve been beggin’ for this.”

The pressure of his hand on your thigh burned, creeping higher.

“Go on, pretty girl. Take the blame.” His smirk twisted cruel. “Tell me this is all your fault.”

“Please…” Your voice cracked, small and desperate. “Please, don’t—”

His grip on your thigh tightened, and suddenly his voice snapped sharp, cutting through the air like a whip.

“Say it!”

You flinched at the sound, tears springing hot to your eyes. They spilled before you could stop them, rolling down your cheeks as your chest heaved against his.

“Don’t make me drag it out of you,” he snarled, his face so close you could see the cold glint in his eyes beneath the brim of his cap. “I don’t want beggin’. I don’t want excuses, you hear me?”

You nodded frantically, tears blurring your vision, desperate for anything that would make him stop, make him ease up.

His expression softened into something sickeningly sweet, lips curling as though your fear pleased him. “Good girl,” he murmured, his hand leaving your thigh just long enough to stroke over your hair, slow and patronizing.

The touch made your stomach twist, but you stayed frozen, too scared to move.

“Now,” he coaxed, voice low, almost tender, “tell me you wanted it. Tell me you’ve been wantin’ me to come here and take what’s mine.”

Your lips trembled, the words clogging in your throat. You didn’t want to say it—God, you didn’t—but his hand was still tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to remind you he could make it hurt. His body loomed over yours, every inch of him pressing in until you could hardly breathe.

“I…” the sound broke apart, but you forced it out, trembling. “I wanted it.”

The smirk returned, triumphant.

“There she is,” he whispered, thumb brushing your damp cheek as if wiping away tears he’d put there. 

His hand slid lower again, dragging the hem of your dress higher until his fingers found the thin barrier of your panties. You jolted at the first press of his touch, a sharp flinch that made him chuckle against your ear.

“Shh…” His voice dripped with false comfort. His palm flattened, keeping you pinned in place. “Stay still for me. Be a good girl.”

You squirmed, legs trembling as his body caged you, leaving you nowhere to go. His fingers stroked slowly over the damp fabric, mocking in their unhurried insistence, and your breath caught in your throat.

“There we go,” he drawled, lips curling as his touch pressed firmer, deliberate. “So wet already…”

The words shattered something in you. The tears came harder, hot streaks down your face as you shook your head. “No—please, stop, I don’t want this, please—”

But he didn’t budge. If anything, his weight pressed you harder against the counter, the edge digging into your back.

“Shh,” he muttered, not even looking at your face now, his attention fixed on the way his fingers toyed with you.

They hooked under the elastic and shoved your panties aside, the cold air brushing where it shouldn’t.

You gasped, body jerking, but his hand was already there—touching your slick folds, sliding through your wetness like your pleas meant nothing.

“Goddamn—” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “Listen to you beg… while your pretty pussy says somethin’ else entirely.”

His fingers moved in slow, deliberate strokes, sliding over your cunt with a sickening patience, never rushing, never relenting and each pass made your stomach twist tighter.

“There now…” his voice dipped softer, cooing like he was soothing a frightened animal. “That ain’t so bad, is it? Just me takin’ care of you.”

You sobbed, shaking your head, but he only hushed you while his other hand kept spreading you open.

“Don’t cry, pretty girl,” he whispered, lips curling against your temple. “Nothin’ to be scared of. I’ll be gentle if you just stay still for me.”

Your body tensed, but his palm pressed firmer on your stomach, keeping you right where he wanted you, forcing you to take every languid touch as though it was inevitable.

His hand shifted higher, finding the swollen nub of your clit, and the touch made your whole body jolt. A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your knees nearly giving under you.

Instinct betrayed you—you clutched at him, hands fisting into the stiff fabric of his uniform just to keep yourself upright.

Bucky chuckled low, smug and steady, his fingers circling that sensitive spot with obscene care. “Easy now…” he murmured, his breath brushing your ear. “That’s it. I’ve got you.”

He acted like he was doing you some kind of favor, like this was protection instead of violation.

But inside, all you wanted was for him to stop. The shame was unbearable, heat flooding through you where his touch worked you over, your mind screaming against the pull of your own body. You clung tighter, not out of want, but out of desperation—because there was nowhere else to go.

And he knew it.

“See?” he cooed, voice soft, mocking. “Feels good when you stop fightin’ me.”

Your breath hitched, your whole body trembling as his fingers circled you with agonizing slowness. “Please… please, stop. I’ll do anything.”

For a moment he stilled, the heat of his hand heavy between your thighs. Then he gave a soft, mocking tsk, shaking his head like you were a child who still didn’t understand the rules.

“I know you will,” he murmured, his mouth curving into a slow, satisfied smirk. His thumb brushed one last time over your clit, gentle as a caress, but his words cut sharper than any cruelty. “That’s the way it’s gonna be, pretty girl. You’ll do anything I ask.”

And then—without warning—his hand shifted, two thick fingers driving inside you in one harsh thrust.

You cried out, the sudden stretch burning, your back arching as pain shot through you.

“Just like that,” he rasped, grinding his palm hard against your clit, his fingers buried deep. “You’ll take what I give you.”

You whimpered, clutching at his uniform in panic, but he only pressed closer.

“Not so innocent now, are you, pretty girl?”

You wanted to die. Wanted to melt into the floor, disappear into nothing where no one could see you, where no one could touch you again. Every nerve screamed, every instinct begged you to run, to fight, to do anything—but your body was frozen under his weight. You couldn’t move, couldn’t stop him, couldn’t even stop the sick heat pooling between your legs that betrayed the terror in your chest.

You wanted him dead. Wanted him gone. You hated him for making you feel like this, for making your body respond when all you wanted was to scream, to curl into yourself and vanish. And yet… even as the tears streamed down your cheeks, even as your sobs caught in your throat, even as your chest heaved with humiliation and fear, your body betrayed you.

It was like being trapped inside a stranger’s skin. Every shiver that wracked your limbs, every involuntary quiver at his touch, every gasp you couldn’t choke back made you hate yourself more. You weren’t safe. You weren’t strong. You weren’t even yourself anymore. 

You were just so fucking scared.

His fingers pumped hard, curling inside you until your legs buckled. Every thrust sent a sharp ache twisting into a heat you hated, a sick pulse you couldn’t stop.

“Yeah,” he growled against your ear, his palm grinding down on your pussy with every movement. “Feel that? Your pussy’s takin’ me so good.”

You shook your head, sobs tearing out of your chest, but your hips twitched despite yourself, a helpless stutter forward into his hand.

“Look at you,” he mocked, voice thick with satisfaction. “Cryin’, beggin’ me to stop—and squeezin’ my fingers like you don’t ever wanna let go.”

“Please, Officer—” you gasped, but the word came out strangled, broken, your body betraying every plea.

“Shh, babygirl,” he cooed, thrusting his fingers deeper, faster. “Can’t lie to me. I can feel the truth right here.” His thumb pressed cruelly over your clit, circling hard until your knees nearly gave. 

His pace slowed, then stopped, his fingers slipping wet and shining from your body. You sagged against the counter, chest heaving with your cries, relief flickering for only a second before you saw where his hand was going.

He held his fingers up between you, slick with your arousal, his eyes burning into yours.

“Open,” he ordered, voice low, commanding.

Your stomach dropped. You shook your head hard, turning your face away. “N-no, please—”

His hand caught your jaw in an iron grip, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forced your head back toward him. “Don’t make me say it twice,” he growled, shoving his soaked fingers against your lips.

You clenched your mouth shut, tears spilling faster as you twisted away, but he pressed harder, his grip unyielding.

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he mocked, voice thick with cruelty. “You’re not too shy now, are you? Taste what you’ve been beggin’ me for.”

When you still resisted, his thumb pinched your nose, cutting off your breath until instinct made your lips part with a choked gasp—and he shoved his fingers inside, coating your tongue in your own slick.

“Atta girl,” he praised, watching your face contort in shame as his fingers moved against your tongue. Then he chuckled low, cruel. “That’s it. Suck ‘em clean for me.”

When you didn’t, he simply pushed deeper, the pads of his fingers pressing down on your tongue until you gagged. His hand held your jaw tight, keeping you still while he fucked your mouth with his wet fingers.

“Look at you,” he rasped, rocking his hand in and out, slick smearing all over your lips. “Cryin’ so pretty for me while you taste yourself. You feel dirty? Hm?” His satisfaction grew as you whimpered around his hand. “Good. You should.”

Each thrust made your throat tighten, humiliation flooding you until your eyes squeezed shut, hot tears slipping past your lashes. You clawed weakly at his wrist, but he only shoved harder, filling your mouth until you had no choice but to swallow around the thickness of his fingers.

“That’s it,” he whispered, almost tender as he worked your mouth open wider. “Get used to it. This mouth’s mine now.”

You moaned around his fingers, drooling all over yourself as he pumped them roughly.

“So good, so obedient,” he rasped, fucking his fingers into your mouth one last time before yanking them free, spit and slick shining across your lips. You coughed, choking on the air you finally pulled in, but he didn’t give you a chance to recover.

His hand fisted in your hair, spinning you around with brutal ease. The edge of the counter dug into your hips before you could even catch yourself, his weight pressing into your back.

“Bend over,” he growled, shoving you down flat against the cold surface. One palm pinned the small of your back, holding you there like you were nothing but a ragdoll.

Your hands scrambled against the counter, trying to push up, but his grip only pressed harder, forcing your cheek down against the wood.

The sharp clink of metal filled the kitchen as he yanked his belt loose, the sound making your stomach drop. You tried to push yourself up again, but his hand shoved harder at the small of your back, pinning you flat.

“Stay down,” he muttered, voice rough with hunger.

Fabric rustled as he lifted your dress, dragging it up over your hips until the cool air of the kitchen hit your bare skin. You whimpered, face pressed to the counter, as he let out a low, approving hum.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his palm smoothing over the curve of your ass before giving it a firm squeeze. “You look so perfect laid out for me like this.”

Your panties tugged tight for a moment, then slid down your thighs with a cruel, deliberate slowness. His fingers brushed the back of your leg as he peeled them away, leaving you exposed.

A zipper followed, the scrape loud in your ears, and then he was behind you—close, hot, heavy—lining himself up with no hesitation.

“Mm,” he murmured, pressing the blunt head of his cock against your slick folds. “Right where you belong.”

The tip of his cock nudged against your entrance, sliding just enough through the wetness he’d already pulled from you with his fingers.

“Shit,” he rasped, pressing closer, grinding the thick length against you. “You’re so fuckin’ tight, baby…”

A sob tore through your throat, your nails scraping helplessly at the counter. “Please, please, stop. I won’t tell anyone. I promise, just stop—”

But he only chuckled, the sound cruel and disbelieving. His hand spread wide over your lower back, keeping you pinned, while his hips rolled just enough to push at your entrance again.

“Who would you tell, huh?” he sneered, leaning over you, his breath was hot against your ear. “Whole town’s mine. Nothin’ to tell. Nothin’ to stop.”

His hips snapped forward without warning, his cock forcing into you in one brutal thrust. The sudden stretch ripped a scream from your throat, your whole body jerking against the counter as white-hot pain tore through you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice rough with satisfaction as he bottomed out inside you. His grip on your waist tightened, bruising, holding you still. “Feels so good.”

You sobbed, the sting overwhelming, your walls clenching desperately around him. “Please, it hurts—”

But he didn’t stop. He pulled back only to slam into you again, setting a hard, punishing pace from the start. The counter rattled beneath you with every thrust, the air punched out of your lungs as he used your body without restraint.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he growled against your ear, his cock driving deep over and over. “Cry for me. Beg all you want—still gonna fuck you just how I want.”

Your nails clawed at the wood, the sharp edge digging into your stomach as his hips smacked relentlessly against your ass, his grunts mixing with the sound of your breathless sobs.

He fucked into you hard, over and over, until your crying was nothing but broken gasps. And then—just when your body thought it couldn’t take any more—he slowed.

His thrusts dragged deep and deliberate now, his shaft stretching you to the hilt with every roll of his hips. Each one made your walls clamp helplessly around him, clenching so tight it drew a guttural groan from his chest.

“Goddamn,” he rasped, grinding in slow, heavy circles that made your stomach twist. His hand slid up your spine, tangling in your hair to wrench your head back. “Feel how full you are? Hm? That’s me, baby. Every inch of me inside this pretty little cunt.”

You whimpered, shaking your head frantically and squirming but he only pulled your hair tighter, forcing your body back against his dick.

“Say it,” he ordered, voice low and sharp. “Tell me how it feels. Tell me how full I’ve got you.”

Tears streaked down your cheeks as the words caught in your throat, shame choking you. His hips snapped once, rough and deep, making you cry out.

“Say it,” he snarled, his lips brushing your ear. “Or I’ll make you scream it.” He growled, voice vibrating against your ear. “Tell me how it feels to be split open on my cock.”

Your walls fluttered around him helplessly. Your throat tightened, the shame unbearable—but the pain of his grip, the sheer force of his body, broke you down.

„I—” your voice cracked, the words stuck in your throat. He yanked your hair harder, hips snapping deep until you cried out.

“Fuck, I—” you finally let out, tears streaming down your face. “I feel— i feel s’full, I can’t—”

“Good girl,” he rasped, pounding harder now, his cock splitting you open again and again until your legs shook. His hand tangled tighter in your hair, dragging your head back against his chest so his lips brushed your ear. „Now say you’re mine.” 

“N-no—” you gasped, clawing at the counter for something, anything to hold on to.

His hips snapped deep, his hand clamping hard around your throat this time, squeezing just enough to cut your breath. “You better or I’ll make it hurt.”

The pressure and the pain tangled together until the fight drained right out of you. Tears spilled hot down your cheeks as your voice broke.

“I’m yours!” you cried, choking on the words. “Please—please, I’m yours!”

He groaned low in your ear, the sound triumphant, his cock driving harder into you as if to claim you deeper.

“That’s right,” he whispered, “Mine. Always fuckin’ mine.”

His hand slid down between your thighs, finding your clit with cruel precision. You flinched at the touch, a strangled cry breaking free.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” he shushed you, circling hard as his cock drove deep. “Gonna make you come for me, pretty girl. Gonna make you fall apart on my cock.”

“No—” you pleaded, shaking your head, but your body betrayed you, clenching tighter around him with every drag of his fingers. The pressure coiled sharp and unbearable.

“Cry all you want. This pussy knows who it belongs to,” he rasped, thumb pressing relentless against your swollen clit.

Your sobs tangled with broken moans and whimpers as the tension snapped, your body shuddering violently. Heat flooded you, pulsing around him, the climax ripped from you against your will.

“Fuck—yes, just like that,” he growled, grinding deep inside you as your orgasm shook through your trembling body. „You’re fucking mine, baby. Cuming on my cock so prettily like a sweet girl you are.”

You collapsed against the counter, body limp, trembling from the orgasm still wracking through you. But he didn’t stop. His thrusts turned harsher, desperate now, his cock driving into your overstimulated walls with punishing force.

“Fuck—” he panted, his grip bruising your hips as he buried himself deeper, chasing his release. “So tight around me. Gonna fill you up, baby. Make sure you never forget how well I fucked you.”

“No, please—don’t—” your cries barely left your lips before his hips snapped forward one last time, his cock pulsing hot and thick inside you.

A guttural groan ripped from his chest as he spilled deep, holding you pinned down, forcing you to take every drop. His weight pressed heavy into your back, his breath ragged against your ear.

“Mm,” he sighed, satisfied, grinding slowly to push it all in deeper. “That’s it. All mine now.”

You sobbed weakly, face wet against the counter, his words echoing in your head as his seed seeped into you, sealing the humiliation.

Then he smirked against your skin, his hand stroking almost tenderly down your spine. “Good girl. Sheriff’s girl.”

⋆⁺₊✧ BWA MASTERLIST

Lee Bodecker belonged in that filth the way a hog belongs in wallow: shirt half-unbuttoned and sweat-soaked, clinging to the coarse black hair on his chest; belly hanging heavy over the straining leather of his belt, uniform pants riding low; armpits dark with rings of sweat; badge crooked on his chest like it had given up trying to look respectable.

He was deep into the bottle tonight, more than halfway gone, the cheap stuff that burned clean at first and then just burned. His thoughts moved slow and thick, like molasses poured over broken glass. The night shift had dragged on empty: no calls, no drunks to haul in, no fights to break up, just him, the fan rattling uselessly in the corner and the low, mournful howl of a hound somewhere far off in the dark.

He lifted the bottle again, took a long, sloppy pull. The whiskey slid down easy now, no sting left, just heat blooming in his gut and spreading outward until his fingertips tingled. He set the bottle down too hard; it clinked against the scarred wood, amber liquid sloshing up the sides. His head lolled a little, eyes half-lidded and bloodshot, staring at nothing.

Then the door creaked.

You pushed it open with your hip, careful, like you were afraid of making too much noise. Both hands cradled a grease-spotted paper sack that still steamed faintly, radiating the clean, holy warmth of fresh dough and sugar.

You really were the sweetest thing this godforsaken town had ever managed to produce: big, soft doe eyes, cheeks flushed pink from the night air and the heat of the bakery oven, hair pinned back neatly with a tiny daisy clip your mama had bought you last Easter.

Your apron was crisp white cotton, tied in a perfect bow at the small of your back and your skirt, modest enough for church but short enough to flutter high on the walk over, showed the delicate lace tops of your stockings with every hesitant step across the threshold.

You smelled like vanilla extract, warm yeast and the faintest trace of the lavender soap you used every morning. A walking Sunday morning dropped right into the middle of his Saturday night sewer.

Lee blinked slow, once, twice, like the whiskey was painting you at the edges, making you shimmer. He rubbed a greasy hand over his face, trying to clear the haze but it only smeared the sweat and grime. His gaze dragged over you anyway: lazy, hungry, unfocused at the corners. From the bow in your apron to the flush on your cheeks, down to the way your skirt moved against your thighs, then back up to those wide, trusting eyes.

You swallowed, clutching the sack a little tighter to your chest like it could shield you from whatever look he was giving you.

“Sheriff Bodecker,” you said, voice small and trembling, barely louder than the lamp’s buzz, “I- I couldn’t sleep knowin’ you were sittin’ here all alone on the night shift again. Mama says the devil finds work for idle hands and I just… I thought maybe you’d like somethin’ warm. So I brought you some donuts. They’re still hot from the fryer. Glazed, the way you like ‘em.”

Lee stared at you another long beat. The words took time to sink through the whiskey fog. Then a slow, crooked grin split his face, sloppy, uneven, showing too much teeth.

“Hot, huh?” His voice came out thick and slurred, gravel dragged through moonshine, every syllable running into the next. “Well goddamn… look at you, angel. Comin’ all the way down here in the dark just to feed a sorry ol’ pig like me.”

He took another pull from the bottle, longer this time, throat bobbing visibly, Adam’s apple working under the skin. When he lowered it, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaving a shiny streak across his knuckles.

“C’mere,” he rasped, patting his thick thigh with a heavy, meaty slap that echoed in the small room. “Come closer, sweetheart. Let me see what kinda sugar a pure little thing like you’s offerin’ a dirty old man on a night when he’s half-drowned already.”

You stood frozen for half a heartbeat, the paper sack crinkling softly against your chest like a shield you weren’t sure you wanted to lower. The room felt smaller now, hotter, thicker with him watching you like that, bloodshot eyes half-lidded but burning. Your knees pressed so tight together you could feel the tremor running up your thighs but something deeper, something curious and fluttering low in your belly, made your feet inch forward anyway.

One slow step. Then another. The soles of your sensible Mary Janes whispered across the grime-streaked floor until you were close enough that the heat rolling off his body mixed with the vanilla steam from the donuts and the sour whiskey haze clinging to him. Your gaze, wide, innocent, unable to help itself dropped to the thick, insistent bulge straining the front of his uniform slacks. The fabric looked ready to split; a dark, damp spot had already spread at the tip like ink on blotting paper.

A tiny, involuntary gasp slipped past your lips before you could catch it.

“Oh… goodness,” you breathed, voice so small it barely carried over the lamp’s buzz. “You… you look so uncomfortable, Sheriff. Like it’s hurtin’ real bad.”

Lee’s laugh came out low and filthy, more a rumble in his chest than anything clean. He spread his thighs wider with deliberate slowness, heavy boots scraping the dirty floor in a slow, grating drag that sent a shiver racing up your spine. The motion made his belly shift, his open shirt gaping further to show more sweat-damp chest hair.

“Uncomfortable don’t even come close, baby girl,” he slurred, words thick and running together like spilled syrup. “Been sittin’ here hard as iron since that sweet little pussy-scent floated through the door. Like heaven walked right into hell and didn’t even knock.”

His meaty palm slapped down on his own thigh again, denim smacking loud in the quiet room. “C’mere. Bring them hot little treats over here where they belong. Let’s see if that sugar fits right where I been dreamin’ about it.”

Your cheeks burned so hot you thought they might catch fire. You could feel the flush spreading down your neck, across your collarbones, even under the crisp white apron.

But your body moved before your mind could argue, slow hesitant steps closing the last foot of distance until you stood trembling between his spread knees. Close enough now that you could see the individual dark hairs curling over his knuckles, the way his chest rose and fell a little faster, the faint tremor in the hand still wrapped around the neck of the Jack Daniel’s bottle.

Lee watched you squirm for a long moment, savoring every nervous flutter of your lashes. Then a slow, crooked, filthy grin spread across his face. He took one last sloppy pull from the bottle, throat working visibly, before setting it aside with a careless clatter.

“Angel… you know what’d feel real good right now?” He patted his thigh again, slower this time, the slap of his palm echoing in the small room. “Them hot little donuts you brought. Warm, sticky, sweet as sin. I’m thinkin’… slide one right down over this achin’ cock of mine. Let that glaze melt all over me while you watch. Dress me up pretty, like I’m some kinda filthy present just for you.”

Your eyes went huge, shock, confusion, and a tiny spark of dark curiosity flickering behind the innocence.

“You… you mean… put a donut… on it?” you whispered, voice barely audible over the fan’s hum. “Like… like a ring? But… but that’s so… so naughty, Sheriff. I don’t know if that’s… proper.”

He chuckled low and ragged, the sound vibrating through his chest like gravel. “Proper? Baby girl, we passed proper the second you walked through that door smellin’ like vanilla and church. This ain’t about proper. This is about feelin’ somethin’ nasty-sweet. Come on… just try it. For your poor, lonely sheriff. One little donut. See how it looks. See how it feels.”

You swallowed hard, fingers tightening on the sack until the paper crinkled loudly. Your eyes were locked on the bulge now, wide, fascinated, a tiny tremble in your lower lip.

“I… I don’t know…” you breathed but your body leaned forward just a fraction, betraying you. “It’s… it’s so big already. And it looks so… mad. Won’t it… hurt the donut? Or… or you?”

Lee groaned at your words, half laugh, half curse. “Hurt? Darlin’, the only thing hurtin’ right now is how bad I need that warm sugar wrapped around me. Ain’t gonna hurt nothin’. Just gonna make it feel like heaven and hell at the same time.”

Without another word, without even breaking eye contact, his big hands moved to his belt. The buckle clinked open with a sharp metallic snap. The zipper rasped down in one slow pull.

He hauled his cock out shamelessly, no hesitation, letting it spring free and slap heavily against the soft swell of his belly: thick as your wrist, veined and ridged, flushed an angry purplish red. The fat, bulbous head was partially hooded by a thick, wrinkled foreskin that had retracted just enough to expose the glistening, sensitive tip, already slick and shiny with a day’s worth of trapped sweat, pre-cum that had gathered underneath, giving off a heavy, masculine musk.

The sudden raw sight made you freeze mid-reach, your hand halfway into the sack, fingers brushing the warm edge of the first donut. Your breath caught audibly; your eyes went impossibly wider, pupils blown as you stared at the heavy, uncut length now bobbing openly between you.

“Oh… oh my goodness…” you whispered, voice cracking into a tiny squeak. The donut slipped slightly in your shaking grip, glaze sticking to your fingertips.

Lee wrapped a loose fist around the base and slowly stroked, working the thick foreskin back and forth over the leaking head.

“Look at that,” he rasped, voice thick with lust. “See how it’s covered up? That’s the foreskin, baby girl. Pull it down for me first. Nice and slow. Show me you can be a good little helper.”

Your fingers trembled as you reached out hesitantly, barely brushing the warm, heavy shaft.

“Like… like this?” you whispered, voice tiny and shy.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice dropping lower, coaxing. “Slow. Real slow. Wrap those pretty little fingers around the skin… yeah, just like that. Now ease it back gently. Don’t yank it- nice and easy… there we go. Good girl.”

You obeyed with shaky hands, gently tugging the thick foreskin down until the fat, glossy head slipped free, flushed dark and glistening with pre-cum. A thick bead dripped from the slit and ran down the underside.

Lee groaned deep in his chest, hips twitching. “Fuck… look how pretty and wet it is now. Perfect for your warm sugar.”

He gave you a filthy, encouraging smile. “Now… line that hot donut up with the head, angel. Slow. Let it melt on me. Watch what it does.”

Your fingers trembled so badly the paper rustled like dry leaves as you finally obeyed, pulling out the first glazed donut. It was still steaming faintly, sugar glistening wet under the flickering lamp, already melting a little at the edges from the heat of your palm.

You held it up between you like something fragile and forbidden, eyes darting between the donut and the thick, twitching cock now fully exposed and shamelessly waiting.

“Like this?” you whispered, voice small and trembling. “Just… slide it down?”

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped, voice dropping lower, coaxing. “Slow. Real slow. Line it up with the head… yeah, just like that. Don’t be scared. Let it melt on me. Watch what it does.”

You hesitated, eyes flicking from the donut to his face, then down to the leaking tip, then, biting your lip hard enough to leave a mark, you eased the warm ring down over the swollen head.

The glaze immediately began to melt from his body heat, running in slow, sticky rivers along the shaft, coating every raised vein, dripping in fat drops over his heavy, drawn-up balls.

Lee groaned like he’d been gut-shot, deep, ragged, head falling back against the creaking chair with a loud creak. His hips jerked up involuntarily as the warm, sugary heat enveloped him.

“Fuuuuck- that’s it, baby,” he slurred, voice thick and wrecked. “Goddamn, feel that hot glaze meltin’ all over my cock… slidin’ right down under my foreskin. Look what you did, angel. You made my dirty old dick look so fuckin’ pretty and sweet.”

Your breath hitched. You stared, transfixed, at the obscene sight: the donut slowly collapsing, sugar melting and sliding down his length in glistening trails. Something fluttered low in your belly, shame, curiosity, a spark of dark fascination.

“It’s… it’s meltin’ all over you,” you whispered, voice soft with wonder. “Like… like it’s huggin’ you. Does it… does it feel nice, Sheriff?”

“Nice?” He laughed, ragged, dirty. “Sweetheart, you got my old dick throbbin’ like it’s gonna burst. Never felt nothin’ this nasty-sweet in my life. Now…” He guided your trembling hand back to the sack. “Grab another one. Stack it. Make me a real pretty tower. Show me how good you can be.”

Your breath caught.

Stack… more?

On that?

Your face felt like it was on fire, hotter than when the oven timer went off too late and everything came out singed at the edges. You’d already eased one warm glazed donut down his thick, leaking length like some shameful bakery display. Now he wanted a whole tower?

“I- I don’t know if they’ll stay…” you whispered, voice tiny, eyes darting up to his for any sign you were doing it wrong.

Lee’s grin stretched slow, whiskey-rough. “They won’t, angel. That’s half the fun. Go on. Be good for me.”

Kneeling between his spread boots, skirt fanned out on the gritty floor, you swallowed. Heart pounding loud enough to drown out the distant bar jukebox. You reached into the sack, pulled out another still-warm ring, glaze already tacky and shiny and hesitated. Leaned in close. The head of him glistened, one donut already perched unevenly at the base, starting to soften and slide from his heat.

You bit your lip hard, then carefully slid the second one down. It caught on the ridge, glaze smearing in a thick, amber streak before squishing into place with a soft, wet schlup.

The whole stack wobbled immediately. You added a third, gentler this time, pushing until the dough yielded and molded around him but the glaze was melting fast now, dripping in slow, sticky threads down the veined shaft, pooling warm against his balls.

Four donuts clung in a lopsided, glistening mess. Already the bottom ones were getting soggy, dough turning dense and tacky from body heat; glaze ran in rivulets, making everything slick and obscene. You stared, wide-eyed, lips parted. It looked ridiculous. Wrong. Hot. Your thighs squeezed together under the skirt.

Lee’s chest rose and fell heavy. “Prettiest damn sight. Now… taste it, baby. Eat a little. Make it good for me.”

Your tongue flicked out, then froze. You looked up, cheeks blazing. “Like… bite it?”

“Just a nibble, angel. Show me you wanna please your Sheriff.”

Heart in your throat, you leaned forward. First, just a tentative brush of lips against the top donut. The glaze was warm, almost liquid now, coating your mouth in sticky sweetness. You gave a small, experimental bite, teeth sinking into the soft, pillowy edge.

Dough crumbled immediately, warm and slightly chewy, glaze pulling in sticky strings between your lips and the pastry as you pulled back. A chunk broke off, tumbling down his shaft, smearing more mess.

Lee hissed through his teeth. “Fuck- yeah, like that.”

Encouraged, just a little, you went back. Nibbled another small bite from the top ring, letting crumbs flake onto your tongue, mixing with the salty bead of pre-cum that had leaked up through the hole.

The flavor hit messy and overwhelming: hot sugar, soft fried dough, sharp musk, him. You chewed slowly, shyly, eyes fluttering shut for a second, then licked the broken edge clean, tongue dragging over crumbling pastry and slick skin beneath.

More glaze dripped. The stack shifted dangerously. You reached up with tentative fingers, steadied the wobbling tower, then bit again, this time lower, teeth grazing the side of the second donut. A bigger piece came away; you swallowed it down with a soft, surprised hum, lips brushing his shaft as you did.

“Goddamn, baby girl…” Lee’s voice cracked. His hips twitched, making the whole precarious pile quiver.

You pulled back just enough to look up, face flushed, lips shiny with glaze and spit, a few crumbs clinging to your chin. “Is… is this good?” you whispered, voice trembling with real uncertainty. “I just wanna make it feel nice for you. It’s so… messy. But warm. And sweet. And you taste… mixed in.”

Lee’s hands flexed, knuckles white, veins standing out on his thick forearms. His voice came out wrecked, slurred, dripping with raw need.

“You’re killin’ me, angel. Keep goin’. Eat ‘em off me slow. Be my good girl. Clean every last crumb off this filthy cock with that sweet little mouth.”

You nodded, shy, eager in a way you didn’t comprehend, then leaned forward on your knees.

Lee’s thighs shook. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ- look at you, angel. Eatin’ my cock like it’s the sweetest thing you ever baked. You even know what you’re doin’ to me?”

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, face a wreck of crumbs, glaze, spit, cheeks flushed crimson, eyes glassy and dazed. A stray bit of dough clung to your lower lip like obscene lipstick.

“I… I’m just tryin’ to clean it up,” you whispered, voice trembling, small and lost. “It’s… it’s all over you. And… and it tastes like… like you. I didn’t know it would taste like that.”

He stared down at you, breath ragged, pupils blown black. Then, voice dropping to a gravelly whisper:

“You pure, baby girl? Still got that little cherry waitin’ for somebody to pop it?”

The question hit you like cold water. Your eyes widened further; your whole body went still. Heat flooded your face so fast it hurt. You looked down. suddenly mortified, quiet, shoulders hunching like you wanted to disappear into the floor.

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Just gave the tiniest, shakiest nod, barely perceptible, cheeks burning, lashes wet.

Lee groaned like he’d been punched in the gut. “Fuck. That’s what I thought. Still pure as fresh snow… and here you are on your knees, face covered in my mess, eatin’ donuts off my cock like a good little girl.”

The words made something twist low in your belly, shame, want, confusion all at once. You whimpered, soft, needy, thighs pressing together under your skirt.

He guided your head forward again. “Don’t stop now, angel. Finish cleanin’ me up. Take the rest.”

You obeyed, diving back in. The remaining donuts gave way under your teeth: crumbling apart, dough and glaze smearing everywhere, across your cheeks, your chin, your apron, dripping down your neck in sticky trails. You moaned softly around mouthfuls, half pastry, half him, tongue swirling to chase every ridge, every vein, swallowing greedily like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

When the last crumbling ring finally collapsed, nothing was left but his thick, glistening cock, coated in spit, glaze remnants, crumbs clinging to the shaft like filthy decoration.

You didn’t stop.

Still dazed, still trembling, you opened your mouth wider and took the head inside. The thick tip pushed past your lips, stretching them; warm pastry remnants smeared across your tongue as you sank down inch by inch. Your throat fluttered, soft little gags muffled by the mess but you didn’t pull away. You kept going, eyes watering, until your nose brushed the coarse, sweaty hair at his base.

A soft, contented hum vibrated around him, like you were savoring something holy and filthy at once.

That sound broke Lee completely.

“Holy- fuck- angel-” His hands fisted in your hair, not rough, just desperate, holding you steady while his thick thighs shook. “That’s it- fuckin’ take every inch down that sweet virgin throat. Look at you… swallowin’ my dirty cock like a good little church girl. So fuckin’ tight- milkin’ me so good, baby.”

Wet, filthy sounds filled the room: your soft, needy moans around his girth, the obscene squelch of spit and melting sugar, his ragged, whiskey-rough breathing. Glaze, drool and crumbs dripped in slow, sticky strings from the corners of your mouth, landing on his open fly, his boots, the floor between your knees.

You bobbed slow at first, learning him, savoring every ridge, every vein, tongue pressing hard against the fat underside, dragging up and down, coaxing more pre-cum to leak onto your taste buds. You swallowed around him greedily, throat working like you were starving for every drop.

Then faster, cheeks hollowing, taking him to the root over and over. The last remnants of the donuts had long since smeared into a warm, sticky ruin along his shaft and balls; every thrust of your head pushed more of the mess across your face, dripping in thick ropes onto his lap.

Lee’s control shattered.

“Fuck angel” His hands fisted tighter in your hair, not rough, just desperate, holding you steady while his thick thighs shook. “That’s it- fuckin’ take every inch down that pretty throat. Such a good little cocksucker… didn’t know heaven had a throat this tight and greedy.”

His hips jerked up in shallow, helpless thrusts, fucking your mouth while his hands anchored you.

“Gonna cum- gonna fill that sweet virgin mouth full- swallow every thick drop like the filthy little angel you are- fuck- here it comes, baby-”

He came with a broken, guttural grunt, thick, hot ropes flooding your mouth in heavy pulses. You swallowed eagerly, innocently, like it was communion wine on Sunday morning, lips sealed tight so not a drop escaped. Pulse after pulse coated your tongue, slid down your throat; you hummed in soft delight, milking him with gentle swallows until the last weak spurt painted the back of your mouth.

Only then did you pull back, letting the final rope catch on your tongue before it dripped down your chin in a pearly string, streaking your ruined apron. Crumbs clung to your lashes; glaze and spit smeared your cheeks like obscene war paint.

You sat back on your heels, face flushed and sticky, apron a disaster of white, sugar, spit, cum and dough, eyes still huge and shining with dazed wonder. You licked your swollen lips slow, chasing the taste, then gave him the softest, shyest smile.

“Goodness, Sheriff,” you whispered, voice trembling with real shyness creeping back in now that the haze of hunger had ebbed. “You made an awful big mess. I didn’t know a man could… give so much. It’s all warm and thick and… everywhere.”

Lee stared down at you, wrecked, sweat rolling down his thick neck, chest heaving, cock still twitching half-hard against his belly, smeared with the obscene remnants of glaze, spit, cum and crumbs.

He hauled you up by the apron strings, rougher now but still careful crushing your sugary, cum-smeared mouth to his in a deep, sloppy, whiskey-soaked kiss. He tasted himself on you, salt, sugar, sin and groaned into your mouth like a starving man finally fed.

When he pulled back, he was breathing hard, eyes glassy but focused, pupils blown wide.

“You really are an angel,” he rasped, voice wrecked and slurred. “A sweet, perfect, filthy little angel who just sucked the goddamn devil right outta me.”

His big hands were already hiking your skirt, bunching the fabric at your waist in a crumpled wad, exposing the simple white cotton panties you’d put on that morning, the plain, modest ones your mama always bought you, with just a tiny pink bow at the front. They were completely drenched now, the innocent white fabric turned dark and clinging wetly to your swollen folds, soaked through like it had been waiting all night to betray how needy you really were.

Lee dropped to one knee in front of you, big rough hands gripping your hips to hold you still. His face hovered inches from your dripping center. Slowly he hooked two thick fingers into the waistband and peeled the soaked panties down your thighs, sliding them all the way off. He held the drenched cotton in one hand, stretching the wet gusset wide between his fingers right in front of your flushed face so you could see the dark, shiny stain of your own slick glistening in the flickering lamplight, sticky strings of it stretching between the fabric.

Your eyes went huge, clueless, horrified, cheeks flaming scarlet. A tiny, mortified whimper escaped you; you tried to look away but his grip on your hips kept you frozen.

“Look at this, angel,” he growled low, voice thick with dark lust. “Look how fuckin’ wet you got for me. This little scrap of cotton’s soaked clean through with your cunt juice. Smell it, smells like sweet vanilla and desperate pussy, don’t it?”

He brought the drenched patch closer, close enough that you could feel the warm, musky heat radiating off it.

Then he leaned in and dragged his tongue flat across the soaked gusset, slow, filthy, sucking hard enough to pull the fabric into his mouth. He groaned deep in his throat, eyes rolling back for a second as he tasted you, sharp, tangy, sweet, lapping at the wet cotton like it was the last drop of something precious.

You jolted, a high, shocked whimper tearing out of you. Your thighs shook violently; you couldn’t speak, only tiny, trembling gasps escaped.

He pulled back with a wet pop, lips shiny with your slick, eyes locked on yours.

“Tastes even better than it smells,” he taunted, licking his lips slow and deliberate. “Sweet little virgin cunt drippin’ like a whore in heat. You been leakin’ all over these pretty panties the whole time you were on your knees eatin’ my load, huh? Bet you didn’t even know how bad you wanted it till now.”

Your face burned so hot you thought you might cry. You stared at the ceiling, biting your lip hard, thighs trembling, unable to form words, only a soft, mortified “Sheriff…” slipped out.

He balled up the warm, dripping cotton in his fist and rose back up between your legs.

“Open that pretty mouth, angel,” he growled low.

You barely had time to obey before he pushed the drenched panties between your lips, stuffing the wet fabric deep into your mouth. The taste of your own slick flooded your tongue. Your eyes widened in shock, a muffled whimper vibrating around the cotton gag.

“Atta girl,” he rasped, dark satisfaction in his voice. “Keep those innocent little panties right where they belong. Now spread those pretty legs wider on my desk, baby girl,”

You blushed scarlet, deeper than you’d ever blushed in your life. Your thighs trembled violently as you nodded, the words coming out soft, wet, and completely muffled against the soaked gag.

“Yesh… Sheriff…”

The garbled, innocent little plea made Lee groan low in his throat, his cock twitching hard against your thigh.

“Fuck, that’s adorable,” he rasped. “Even with your dirty panties in your mouth you’re still sayin’ yes like a good girl.”

Lee didn’t give you time to breathe. He stepped between your spread thighs, forcing them wider with the bulk of his hips. His cock, still half-hard from your mouth, glistening with the ruined remnants of glaze, spit, cum and dough crumbs bobbed heavy and obscene between you. The thick, wrinkled foreskin was still partially covering the fat head, shiny and slick.

He fisted the shaft lazily, slowly working the foreskin back and forth a few times, pulling it down to fully expose the swollen, leaking tip before sliding it back up again. Sticky strands of glaze, spit and cum stretched between the skin and the head as he smeared the filthy mess along your bare, dripping folds, coating your clit and slit with it.

“Gonna get this pretty virgin cunt nice and messy too,” he growled, voice low and filthy. “Feel how slick that foreskin is, angel? That’s all for you.”

The sight ripped a low, guttural growl from deep in his chest. His nostrils flared wide; he could smell you even stronger now, sweet vanilla undercut by the sharp, musky reek of your dripping cunt slicing through the stale whiskey, cigarette ash and sex haze of the office.

“Look at that sloppy little mess,” he rasped, voice thick with liquor and leftover cum. His thumb dragged over your swollen clit, pressing down hard enough to make you jolt. You whimpered, high, needy, thighs quivering uncontrollably. “Angel’s cunt already cryin’ rivers for it. Soakin’ like a desperate little whore who’s been dreamin’ about this fat cock all damn day. Bet Mommy don’t know her sweet baby girl’s leakin’ like a faucet in the sheriff’s back room, does she?”

Your face burned hotter than the fryer at closing time. Shame and want twisted together in your belly until you couldn’t tell which was winning. But your thighs parted wider anyway on instinct, surrender, hips tilting shamelessly toward his hand like your body had already sold you out.

You tried to answer but the soaked cotton panties stuffed in your mouth turned your words into soft, wet, muffled sounds.

“I- I cou’n hewp it, Sheriff…” you mumbled around the gag, voice cracking and barely intelligible, drool already starting to leak from the corners of your lips. “You… you make me fee’ so funny down dere… hot an’ achy an’… empty… like I need somethin’ bad… somethin’ I don’ even un’erstan’…”

Lee chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through his chest into yours. He hooked his big hands under your thighs and lifted you fully onto the edge of the desk like you weighed nothing. Papers scattered in a chaotic flutter; the half-empty Jack Daniel’s bottle tipped sideways, rolling slowly across the wood but not quite falling.

Instead of leaving you there, he kept his grip on your thighs and adjusted you, pulling your ass right to the very edge of the scarred desktop so your hips tilted up and your legs fell open wider on either side of him. He pushed your knees back toward your chest slightly, spreading you obscenely open, completely exposed under the flickering lamplight.

Your ass hung just off the edge now, cunt presented like an offering, slick dripping down onto the wood below.

“There we go,” he rasped, voice thick with satisfaction as he looked down at your helpless, spread position. “Nice and ready for me. Just how I want my angel.”

“Ish… ish gonna be too bigg,” you tried to say, but the soaked cotton panties stuffed deep in your mouth turned the words into a wet, garbled mumble. “Sheriff… ish it gonna hurt?”

Lee froze for a second, then a slow, filthy grin split his face. He braced both hands on the desk beside your hips, leaning down until his whiskey-sour breath fanned over your soaked cunt. Without warning, he bent lower and pressed a slow, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss right on your throbbing clit, lips sealing around the swollen bud for one long, sucking second, tongue flicking once before pulling back with a wet, obscene pop.

You jolted, back arching off the desk, a high, shocked whimper tearing out of you. Your thighs snapped together instinctively, trapping his head for a heartbeat before he shoved them apart again with rough hands.

“Might sting a little, baby girl,” he taunted, voice thick with dark amusement. He licked his lips, tasting you, eyes locked on yours. “But look at this greedy little clit, puffin’ up and shinin’ like it’s beggin’ for more. You’re so fuckin’ wet it’s drippin’ down your ass crack already. You really gonna pretend you don’t want this fat cock to split you open? Gonna pretend that tiny virgin hole ain’t clenchin’ and suckin’ just thinkin’ about bein’ stretched around me?”

Your face flamed crimson; you couldn’t look at him. You stared at the ceiling instead, biting your lip so hard it hurt, thighs trembling violently.

“I… I don’ know…” you mumbled around the soaked panties, voice soft, wet, and completely muffled. “Ish scary… but… but I wan’ it too. I think…”

Lee groaned, deep, animal. “That’s my good girl. Scared little angel who’s still drippin’ like a whore.”

He braced one hand on the desk beside your hip, the other guiding his thick length, rubbing the fat, glaze-smeared head up and down your slit, coating himself in your slick until every glide made wet, obscene noises that echoed in the small room.

“Too big’s the whole fuckin’ point, baby girl,” he grunted, voice slurred and thick. His eyes were locked on where you were stretched just around the tip, watching himself disappear a fraction more with every shallow rock of his hips. “Gonna stretch this tight little virgin cunt wide open. Make it remember the shape of me every time you sit down tomorrow. Every time Mommy asks why you’re walkin’ funny.”

He pressed forward again, slow, agonizingly slow, watching your face the entire time. Your walls fluttered wildly around the intrusion, trying to take more, slick heat sucking at him greedily even as your brows pinched and your lips parted on a shaky gasp.

The stretch burned, sweet, deep, overwhelming. You felt every ridge, every pulse of him as he sank deeper, inch by thick, veined inch.

When he met resistance, your body instinctively clenching, he stilled, breath ragged, forehead pressed to yours for a moment. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your collarbone.

“Come on, baby,” he rasped, voice dropping to a rough, pleading growl. “Let me in. Let your sheriff in that sweet little hole. You been drippin’ for it all night- don’t fight it now. Open up for me… that’s it… just like that…”

His thumb found your clit again, circling slow, firm circles that made your hips jerk and your walls flutter open around him. The combination of pain and pleasure made your breath hitch; another inch slid inside with a wet squelch.

You let out a broken little sob, half pain, half bliss. “Oh- oh goo’ness- Sheriff- ish so fuww- stings- burns-”

He pushed the rest of the way in with one long, steady thrust, bottoming out until his balls pressed flush and heavy against your ass, the last of the glaze and spit smearing between you.

You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders, legs shaking uncontrollably. The sound came out muffled and wet around the soaked panties stuffed in your mouth.

“I can fee’ you… eb’rywhere,” you whimpered, voice garbled and lispy. “In my bewwy. Wike you’re rearrangin’ me inside…”

He held still for a long moment, letting you adjust, letting you feel the sheer size of him splitting you open, owning every inch. His thumbs stroked slow circles on the trembling insides of your thighs, almost gentle despite the filth of his words.

“That’s it,” he murmured, voice slurred but steady now, focused. “Take a breath, angel. Let that pretty pussy get used to bein’ owned. You’re mine now- every tight little inch of you.”

The desk was rattling now, violent, rhythmic shudders that sent pencils rolling off the edge and the flickering lamp teetering dangerously on its base. Every brutal snap of Lee’s hips drove the scarred wood deeper into the wall behind it, the whole room seeming to pulse in time with the wet, obscene slap of skin on skin. The air had turned thick and humid, thick enough to taste on every ragged breath.

Your legs had wrapped around his thick waist as best they could, ankles crossing at the small of his back, heels digging into the damp fabric of his uniform shirt. The stockings had laddered further from the rough friction, thin runs snaking up your thighs like delicate scars. You clung to him, nails scraping down his meaty arms, leaving red trails through the coarse hair, trying to anchor yourself against the overwhelming tide of sensation.

“Sheriff- pwease- ” Your voice cracked, high and desperate, the words coming out as wet, garbled mumbles around the soaked cotton panties stuffed in your mouth. “I fee’ somethin’- somethin’ comin’- ish too much- I can’t-”

Lee’s laugh was low, filthy, slurred at the edges but sharp with triumph. He shifted his angle, tilting his hips just right, so the fat head of his cock ground relentlessly against that swollen, secret spot inside you that made white-hot stars explode behind your eyelids. His belly pressed flush to yours with every deep plunge, the soft give of him trapping your clit between your bodies, rubbing it raw with every thrust.

“Yeah?” he growled, voice gravel dragged through smoke. “Gonna come on this fat sheriff cock, angel? Gonna soak me like the greedy little thing you are?” He leaned down, whiskey breath hot against your ear, lips brushing the shell. “Go on then- come for me. Squeeze this dirty dick like you never wanna let it go. Show me how bad you needed a man to wreck you.”

It hit you like a freight train barreling through the quiet night.

Your back arched off the desk, sharp, violent, head falling back so hard your skull thumped against the wood. A high, keening cry tore from your throat, raw, reverent, almost prayer-like as your pussy clamped down in frantic, fluttering pulses. Slick gushed around him in hot, slippery waves, soaking his shaft, dripping in thick rivulets down his balls and onto the scattered papers below. The mess spread, mixing with the spilled whiskey and crumbling glaze into a filthy puddle that would stain the desk for weeks.

Lee cursed through gritted teeth, thrusts turning erratic, sloppy, losing rhythm as your walls milked him with greedy contractions. “Fuck- fuck- that’s it- milk me- Jesus fuckin’ Christ-”

He buried himself to the hilt one final time, deep enough you swore you felt him in your throat, with a guttural, broken groan that rattled his whole frame. His cock pulsed violently inside you; thick, hot spurts flooded your depths in heavy ropes, so much, so fast it immediately overflowed. Warm cum leaked out around his thick base, mixing with your own release and the last sticky remnants of sugar, running in slow, pearly trails down the cleft of your ass and pooling beneath you on the desk.

He stayed seated deep, buried to the root, panting harshly against the crook of your neck. His forehead pressed to yours, sweat dripping from his brow onto your flushed cheeks. You trembled beneath him, aftershocks rippling through your core in weak, fluttering waves; your walls still weakly clenched around him like they were trying to keep him inside forever.

For a long moment there was only the sound of ragged breathing, the dying buzz of the lamp, the distant tick of the wall clock creeping toward eleven.

Then he began to pull out.

The drag of his softening cock through your oversensitive walls made you whimper, sharp, oversensitive pleasure-pain. When the fat head finally slipped free, a thick rope of cum followed immediately, gushing from your puffy, ruined entrance in a slow, obscene cascade. It dripped onto the desk in heavy drops, mingling with everything else you’d already made.

Lee watched with dark, possessive satisfaction, eyes hooded, lips parted. His thumb, still sticky with glaze and your combined mess, scooped up a generous glob of the leaking cum and pushed it back inside you. Your walls fluttered weakly around the intrusion; a soft, broken sound escaped your throat.

“Keep that where it belongs,” he murmured, voice wrecked but steady, almost tender beneath the gravel. “Don’t want none of my mess wastin’, angel. Gonna make sure you feel me drippin’ out of you the whole walk home.”

You whimpered again, too blissed-out, too overwhelmed to form words. Your thighs shook uncontrollably; your body felt liquid, boneless, pinned to the desk like an offering. The apron hung crooked and ruined, streaked with sugar, spit, tears, cum, your blouse half-unbuttoned from his rough hands, breasts heaving with every shallow breath.

Lee’s big palm smoothed down your trembling thigh, almost soothing before he reached up and hooked two thick fingers into the corner of your mouth. He slowly pulled the drenched, saliva-soaked panties from between your lips, the wet cotton dragging out with a filthy, obscene sound. Strings of your drool connected the fabric to your swollen lips for a second before they snapped.

You gasped softly, finally able to breathe properly again, lips parted and shiny.

He leaned in and crushed his mouth to yours in a deep, sloppy, whiskey-soaked kiss. He tasted like bourbon and sin; you tasted like him and the faint, musky sweetness of your own slick from the gag.

When he pulled back, his eyes searched yours, something raw flickering behind the drunken haze.

“You okay, baby girl?” he rasped quietly, thumb brushing a tear track from your cheek. “Did I hurt you too bad?”

You shook your head slowly, eyes glassy, lips trembling into the softest smile. “No, Sheriff,” you whispered. “It… it felt like dyin’ and bein’ born all at once. Like I was waitin’ my whole life for you to do that to me.”

He exhaled a shaky breath, almost a laugh and rested his forehead against yours again.

“Good,” he muttered. “’Cause I ain’t done with you yet. Not by a long shot.”

But even as he said it, his gaze flicked to the old wall clock on the far side of the room, its face yellowed with age and nicotine, ticked past 10:45 with a slow, accusing rhythm that suddenly cut through the haze of heavy breathing and sticky skin. The sound seemed louder now, sharper, like it had been waiting for the right moment to remind them both that the world outside this filthy little office still existed.

His eyes narrowed, the drunken fog lifting just enough for reality to creep back in. Then his gaze dropped to you: sprawled boneless across the cluttered desk, skirt rucked up around your hips in a wrinkled halo, apron streaked with sugar, spit, tears and the unmistakable pearly evidence of what you’d done together. Your face was flushed crimson, lips swollen and shiny, hair mussed and clinging damply to your temples. You looked ruined, beautifully, thoroughly ruined and something possessive twisted hard in his chest at the sight.

You blinked slowly, lashes fluttering as the afterglow ebbed and the world came back into focus. Your eyes widened when they landed on the clock.

“Oh no- Sheriff-” Your voice was small again, cracked and trembling, the shy sweetness rushing back in like cold water. “What time is it?”

Lee wiped a thick thumb across your cheek, smearing a lingering streak of glaze rather than cleaning it, before answering. His voice was still rough, gravelly from groaning your name, but quieter now.

“Pushin’ eleven,” he rasped. “Why, angel?”

“My Mama said I could only be out till eleven,” you whispered, suddenly shrinking in on yourself despite the way your thighs still trembled around his hips. “She’ll be awful mad if I’m late. She’ll wait up- lights on in the kitchen, Bible open on the table- and she’ll ask where I was, why I smell like… like this.” Your gaze dropped to your ruined apron, then lower, to the sticky sheen coating your inner thighs. “And- and I can’t tell her I was here… like this. She’d die of shame. Or worse- she’d lock me in my room and never let me out again.”

Lee barked a rough laugh, low, almost fond but there was something tender buried in the sound, something that hadn’t been there before you walked through his door. He eased back just enough to help you sit up, big hands steadying your waist as the room spun a little for you.

He reached down and picked up the ruined, soaked white cotton panties from the floor. A filthy little smirk tugged at his lips.

“Here we go, angel,” he murmured, voice gravelly. “One leg now…”

He gently lifted your left foot, guiding it through the leg hole. You held onto his broad shoulders for balance, cheeks burning as he slowly worked the other leg through.

“…now the other. That’s it. Good girl.”

He slid the damp panties up your thighs with surprising care, the wet cotton clinging obscenely to your slick, cum-filled pussy. He even adjusted them carefully over your swollen folds, patting the front almost possessively before tugging your skirt down as best he could. The fabric smoothed over your hips but the dark, wet spot between your thighs was impossible to hide and fresh sticky trails still ran down your legs.

“Better get movin’ then, sweetheart,” he said, voice gravelly but softer at the edges. “Can’t have Mommy comin’ lookin’ for her little baker girl with a flashlight and a prayer book. She finds you like this, she’ll have the whole congregation prayin’ over your soul by sunrise.”

You slid off the desk on wobbly legs, knees knocking together, thighs slick and trembling. A fresh trickle of his cum slid warm and slow down your inner thigh the moment your feet hit the floor; you pressed them shut with a tiny, mortified gasp, cheeks flaming anew.

Lee watched the motion with dark, hungry eyes, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. It was stained, crumpled, smelling faintly of motor oil and old smoke but it was the best he had. He stepped close again, close enough you could feel the heat rolling off him and dabbed gently at your chin, wiping away the worst of the glaze and spit. Then lower, across the streaks on your apron, the smudges on your blouse. His touch was careful, almost reverent, like he was trying to erase the evidence even though he knew it was pointless.

When he finished, he leaned in, lips brushing the shell of your ear, breath hot and whiskey-sour.

“Next time,” he murmured low, possessive, “bring more donuts. A whole dozen. And don’t wear panties. I wanna feel that sweet pussy drippin’ the whole walk over here- knowin’ you’re already wet for me before you even knock.”

Your cheeks burned scarlet, but you didn’t pull away. Instead you nodded, small, shy, eager, biting your lower lip hard enough to leave a mark.

“Yes, Sheriff,” you breathed.

He walked you to the door, big hand splayed possessively on the small of your back, thumb stroking slow circles through the thin fabric of your blouse. The night air hit you like a slap when he pushed the door open, cool, clean, smelling of pine and distant rain. It cut through the thick reek of sex and sugar clinging to your skin, making you shiver.

You paused on the top step, turning back to look at him. The porch light cast harsh shadows across his face, highlighting the sweat on his brow, the crooked badge, the crooked smirk but his eyes were steady on yours. Soft. Hungry. Something dangerously close to tender.

“Thank you, Sheriff…” you whispered, cheeks still flushed. “For… for lettin’ me stay with you. For makin’ me feel so full… and so dirty… and like I mattered tonight.”

Lee’s smirk softened, just a fraction, into something almost real.

“Anytime, baby girl,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Door’s always open for my favorite delivery. Matter of fact… you can come even earlier next time. The other deputies usually clear out by eight. After that it’s just me here… all alone.”

His thumb brushed your bottom lip, still swollen from earlier.

“So come as early as you want, angel. The sooner you get here, the more time I got to ruin you proper.”

You gave him one last look, then turned and hurried off into the dark. Your skirt fluttered with every quick step; the cool air kissed the sticky trails on your thighs, making you clench involuntarily around the lingering ache of him inside you. His taste still coated your tongue. His cum still leaked slow and warm between your legs with every stride.

Behind you, Lee leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching until your silhouette disappeared around the bend in the road.

He didn’t move for a long time.

The clock inside ticked toward midnight.

And somewhere deep in his whiskey-soaked heart, he already knew: this wasn’t the end.

It was just the beginning of something he’d never be able to quit.

— yours truly, ѕℓυtdιεr.

masterlist

He looked good tonight. Hair a little damp from a shower, sleeves rolled to the elbows, badge glinting faintly in the last of the light. You weren’t really sure when the crush had started, maybe it was the first time he drove you home after work, or the way he called you 'darlin’ girl' without sounding like he was teasing. Maybe it was just the way he made you feel... safe.

But now, sitting in that passenger seat with sweat clinging under your dress, the summer heat making everything feel just a little too sticky, your thoughts drifted lower. You turned slightly in your seat, thighs sliding over the vinyl, skirt riding up the back of your legs. Your shirt stuck a little to your back, the sheen of humidity making everything feel more exposed.

You looked at him, really looked. Not like a coworker or a helpful ride, but like a man. A real man. Not like those boys you’d kissed clumsily in the backseat of a sedan at the lookout after your last summer home from secretary school. Not like the nervous boys who never quite knew what to do with their hands.

No. Lee was different. Steady. Capable. Tired in a way that made you ache for him.

His bottom lip jutted just slightly, pouty when he focused on the road, and your eyes drifted lower. Down to where his legs sat wide, the fabric of his uniform pants drawn tight over thick thighs. Your gaze lingered there as you lifted your milkshake and slowly sucked the sweet, melting vanilla through the straw.

Something about Lee made your belly tighten when you were lying in bed alone at night. Something about the way he filled up a room, quiet, but always there. Solid. Strong.

Your thighs pressed together.

"Sheriff..."

He glanced at you, one brow raised, eyes flicking briefly over to gauge your tone.

"Told you, sweet girl. After hours, it’s just Lee to you."

But you weren’t really listening. The words barely registered as your heart beat hard against your ribs. The question had already bloomed in your chest, persistent, hot, too big to hold down any longer. You fidgeted, thighs shifting beneath your skirt, the slick heat between them distracting.

"Can I see it?"

The silence in the cab stretched long and strange. Lee didn’t look at you right away, but you saw the change. His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. His breath hitched in his throat. You were sure he’d noticed where your gaze had lingered, his thighs, the bulge in his pants, the shape of him when he adjusted his belt. His jaw flexed and relaxed again. He blinked, slow and deliberate.

"Can you what now?"

You swallowed hard, nervous and excited all at once. "Your... you know. Your dick."

He made a choked sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between a groan and a laugh. Then he leaned back and let out a disbelieving huff, running hands down his face as if to shake the words out of his ears.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered. "You tryin’ to give me a goddamn heart attack, girl? You don’t just spring somethin’ like that on a man behind the wheel."

You looked down quickly, embarrassed heat crawling up your neck. "I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t tryin’ to ..I’m just... I’m curious. I’ve never seen one. Not really. Not up close."

Your voice was softer then. Quieter. More honest. 

"You’re not like the boys I know."

The best you’d seen were grainy diagrams in a textbook, or clinical health class pamphlets. Nothing raw. Nothing warm. Nothing that made your thighs press together like this.

Lee was silent, but you could feel the energy shift inside the car. Like the heat had gotten thicker.

You looked down, hands fiddling in your lap.

"You don’t have to if you don’t want to. It’s okay," you said, voice so soft it barely reached the space between you.

But you could already feel the weight of his attention settling over your skin like a promise. It wrapped around your shoulders, heavy and molten, like heat lightning on the edge of a storm. Your breath caught in your throat. The hum of the car, the static warble of the radio, the soft slurp of melting ice in your cup, it all faded into the background as you felt him shift beside you.

That’s when he pulled the car over.

The gravel crunched under the tires as the cruiser rolled to a slow, deliberate stop on the side of the road. The headlights lit up a patch of tall grass and a leaning mailbox that had long since lost its name. The engine stayed running, a low growl beneath you both, and the radio murmured faint country ballads beneath it all, nothing clear, just the ache of slide guitars and broken hearts. Crickets filled the silence beyond the glass, their song pulsing with the slow rhythm of your racing heart.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just sat there for a long moment, one hand still on the wheel, the other resting loose on his thigh. His jaw shifted, like he was biting down on something he couldn’t let loose. Then, slowly, Lee turned toward you.

His eyes were darker now; shadowed, molten, unreadable. His mouth had lost its usual curve. What replaced it was something serious. Something aching. His gaze swept your face, pausing at your lips before flicking back to your eyes. You could feel the weight of it, feel the heat where it landed.

"You sure, sweetheart?"

The way he said it wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t even flirtation anymore. It was something else, that rough-edged concern curled around a hunger so tightly reined in it made your breath stutter. Like he needed you to mean it. Like he was giving you a chance to run.

You nodded. Voice a whisper. "I trust you."

The words settled between you like a loaded gun on the seat. Heavy. Final. And somehow, impossibly soft. A switch flipped, heat shifting from a low simmer to something crackling and wild beneath the surface. It wasn't just anticipation now; it was inevitability, humming in the air between you like the thick pull of gravity.

The atmosphere changed- thickened-like a thunderstorm rolling in without warning. You could see it in the way his jaw went slack, the way his chest rose a little harder on the inhale, like he’d been punched through the ribs by something sweet and terrible. His eyes flicked from your mouth to your lap, then back again, something raw and unspoken lighting behind them.

That changed something in his face. Like something snapped loose in his chest. Like the man inside him had been holding a breath for far too long and now, finally, he could exhale. And when he did, it came out in a slow, measured sigh

"...aw -hell," he muttered, voice low and already ruined with the weight of what was coming. His eyes dropped for just a second, then came back to yours with something raw behind them. "You got no idea what you’re doin’ to me, sittin’ over there with those big eyes, askin’ to see my cock like it’s somethin’ sweet. Like you don’t even know what you’re askin’."

He sucked in a breath, dragged a hand through his hair, then let out a quiet, almost broken, "Alright. But once I show you, darlin’, there ain’t no takin’ it back."

Sitting back, Lee reached for his belt and unbuckled it with the kind of steady care that made your breath catch. The metal click of it undoing echoed in the charged silence. He glanced up, locking eyes with you for a beat, making sure-really making sure-you weren’t about to bolt. That you still wanted this. Wanted him.

When you didn’t say a word, only watched with wide eyes and parted lips, he nodded once to himself. Zipped down. Pushed the fabric aside. His movements were slow, deliberate, every inch of him calm even as the tension in the air crackled like a live wire.

When he pushed his boxers down and pulled himself free, you couldn’t breathe.

You stared, entranced, eyes wide, pulse pounding somewhere behind your ribs.

He was already hard. Thick. With nothing real to compare it to, all your brain could latch onto was how wide he was. Heavy-looking. Your eyes traced the veins along the shaft, the flushed skin stretched tight over the thickness. The head was an angry, almost flushed pink, swollen and glistening slightly with precum that caught the faint blue glow of the dash like dew on a leaf.

Your breath hitched. There was something raw about it, unapologetic. He was showing you some vulnerable part of himself and yet holding nothing back. You shifted slightly in your seat, thighs clenching, your stomach fluttering with nerves and heat.

You couldn’t believe how much you felt just from seeing him. Your mouth went dry and your core ached, your body responding in ways you weren’t prepared for. It wasn’t just arousal. It was fascination. You wanted to understand it, to explore it, to know him. The way the head twitched when he shifted, how thick the base looked in his fist, how flushed the skin had become from nothing but anticipation. Every small detail etched itself into your memory.

He looked... overwhelming. Masculine in a way that made your whole body hum.

You licked your lips without realizing it, eyes wide and transfixed, and whispered, "oh..." you breathed, barely realizing the word had left your mouth.

Lee let out a low, warm chuckle. "That a good reaction or a scared one, sweetheart?"

You shook your head quickly, cheeks burning. "No-good. It’s... it’s just... a lot."

His lips quirked, smug and soft all at once. "Yeah, baby. S’posed to be."

Your knees pressed together involuntarily, the ache between your legs pulsing now, unmistakable. You'd seen diagrams, maybe blurry porn in passing, but this? This was real. The weight of it. The size. The intimacy of him showing you like this. It made you dizzy.

He watched every shift of your expression, every twitch of your thighs, every subtle gasp. "C’mon, sugar. You can look all you want. I ain’t shy. Ain’t been in a long time."

Lee watched you watching him, his eyes dark and hungry. One hand wrapped around the base and stroked, slow, languid, shameless, from root to tip. He didn’t rush, didn’t hide it. He wanted you to look. Wanted you to see exactly what he was offering.

He exhaled through his nose, voice low and rough, almost reverent. "You got me makin’ such a mess just from lookin’ at it," he said. "Your thighs’re squeezin’ together so tight, baby. You like watchin’? That what you needed?"

The heat climbed higher in your chest. It felt like it might burst out of you, all tight and twisting and unfamiliar in the best way. Your thighs squeezed together so hard it made your hips shift, desperate for any kind of relief. You nodded before you even realized you had. Your lips parted, breath shallow, and your whole body leaned forward without you telling it to.

You couldn’t look away. Couldn’t stop tracking the way his thumb smoothed over the head, gathering the little drop that had been beading there-slick and glistening-before stroking it back down the thick, flushed length. It looked too big for your hand, for your body, and yet you wanted it. Wanted to know what it would feel like. What he would sound like.

Lee’s voice was lower than before, almost coaxing. "Go on," he said. "You can touch it. Be gentle. I’ll show you."

Your fingers lifted, hesitant, trembling slightly as they hovered before making contact. Then finally, you touched him. Brushed the side of his shaft with the backs of your knuckles. He twitched immediately under your touch, a soft grunt catching in his throat, and you gasped aloud at how hot he felt. How impossibly hard.

He was velvet over steel, thick and pulsing in your palm. You didn’t realize your other hand had joined in until your fingers curled around him slowly, reverently. You ran your thumb along the underside, testing the texture, watching the way the muscles in his stomach twitched.

Lee hissed through his teeth, his hips jerking up just a little. His hand went to your thigh like he needed to ground himself, thumb dragging along your skin in slow, unconscious circles.

You grew bolder, letting your fingers explore. One hand slid to the base, your palm cupping him as you wrapped your other around the top. You moved carefully stroking him with a fascination you didn’t bother to hide. His breath grew heavier, chest rising and falling under his shirt, the fabric pulling just slightly with every inhale.

"That’s it," he muttered, voice dark and rasping. "You’re doin’ so good, baby... so fuckin’ good."

You looked up at him, flushed, lips parted. "It’s... soft, but so hard," you whispered, eyes wide with wonder.

He groaned, low and wrecked. "Fuck, darlin’. Keep talkin’ like that and I ain’t gonna last."

Your hands kept moving, slick now from the precum leaking from the tip. You circled your thumb around it and felt him twitch.

"Shit. That’s good. That’s real good. Just like that, sweetheart. You got such a sweet little grip. Don’t even know what you’re doin’ to me."

Lee tugged gently on your wrist, guiding you closer with a slow pull that made your breath catch. His free hand skimmed your thigh, anchoring you as you leaned in, the console digging lightly into your hip. You barely realized your milkshake had tilted, nearly forgotten in the cupholder.

His mouth brushed yours before you could overthink it, soft at first, testing. Then deeper. Needier. The kiss was warm and slow, his lips plush and commanding, one hand sliding around the back of your neck to keep you close. Your thighs squeezed together as you kissed him back, the heat between your legs now insistent, pulsing.

You shifted, your body responding to the gravity of his. Your knees pressed into the seat, your balance shifting as your core ached with the kind of hunger you’d never truly understood until now.

Still, for a breathless second, you hesitated. You'd never done anything like this. Not even close. The good girl in you whimpered, guilt and nerves flaring hot. But the way Lee touched you, steady, grounding, wanting, burned right through the shame. Beneath it all, there was a thrill humming through your veins: wild, dangerous, and yours.

Your body moved on instinct. You climbed over the console, skirt riding up your thighs as you straddled his lap.

"Jesus-" he swore, grabbing your hips as you settled over him, bare skin against his jeans. The contact was instant, hot and slick. Lee froze beneath you for a beat, breath punched out of his chest.

He’d felt it. The soft heat of your pussy, bare and wet, pressed directly against him, his cock nestled right between your folds. No barrier. No fabric. Just skin against skin.

"No panties? Fuck, baby," he groaned, voice strained. His grip on your hips tightened as you rocked slightly, your slick dragging over the thick length of him, your clit brushing along the head with every movement. He let out a breath that was almost a growl, head tipping back against the headrest. "You’re so goddamn wet already..."

You didn’t look at him-couldn’t. You were too flushed, too far gone, voice small against his throat. "I-I took ’em off after lunch. They were damp. The heat in the office... it made ’em cling. Made me itchy."

Lee swore under his breath, a low rumble vibrating in his chest. "Christ, sugar... walkin’ around all day with that sweet little pussy bare under that skirt... and I didn’t even know."

His cock twitched beneath you, pressed snug between your folds, made slick with every pass. His hands flexed at your hips, grounding himself. You could feel him, every throb, every twitch, sliding along you in the most intimate, maddening way.

You started to move slowly, rocking your hips with careful, tentative rolls. The thick ridge of him glided against your aching clit with each pass, and the drag of it; firm and hot and impossibly good, made your breath fall apart in long, needy moans and soft, stuttering sighs. "Oh God," you whispered, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut as you rolled your hips again.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders for balance, needing the anchor of him beneath your hands. He was solid, warm, the only thing holding you together as your body moved on instinct. Each shift left a wetter smear across his cock, your slick spilling freely now, mixing with the precum beading from his tip. Your thighs clenched tighter around him, chasing the friction-desperate to feel that thick pressure slide against you again and again.

"Lee... it feels s’good," you gasped, voice trembling.

His hands were steady but firm on your hips, guiding you into those slow, maddening circles. "Yeah, baby. That’s it. Just like that," he groaned, breath hitching every time your clit caught the swollen ridge of his cock. "You’re makin’ such a fuckin’ mess on me. Look at you-so goddamn needy."

You whimpered, rolling your hips again, and the angle made you jerk, clit catching just right. A sharp, breathy cry escaped you. "Please... please don’t stop."

Lee’s chest rose under you, his voice strained now. "I ain’t stoppin’, baby. You keep movin’ just like that-you’re so close, I can feel it. Fuck, you feel so good..."

Your mess mixed with his precum, sticky and slick between you, making every pass lewd and wet and perfect. You couldn’t stop, couldn’t think, not with that thick length riding right against the spot you needed. Not with his hands guiding you, not with his voice in your ear, murmuring low and dirty praise that sent sparks racing down your spine.

Lee’s breath grew heavier, his jaw tight, chest rising beneath you as he watched you rut against him. "Look at you," he rasped.  "That’s it, sweet girl. Get yourself off on it. Show me how bad you want it.."

You hid your face against his neck, whining softly, hips stuttering as you tried to rise, tried to angle yourself for more. For him.

Your tight walls clenched around nothing, aching to be filled, to be stretched around his thick cock. Your whole body screamed for it, heat rolling through you in waves, your need impossible to hide.

"Need you... please, Lee," you whimpered, voice breaking as you rocked harder, desperate. "Please, just-let me-"

You whimpered, hips still rolling, chasing friction, trying to lift yourself higher, trying to angle your hips so he might just slide in. Your tight walls clenched around nothing, fluttering, desperate, your slick making everything hot and slippery. Your body screamed for it, for the stretch of him, for the fullness.

But his hands only held you tighter, steadying your hips.

His jaw clenched against your temple. "Not yet, darlin’. I know, I know you want it-but not like this. Not your first time in a fuckin’ patrol car. I ain’t gonna do that to you."

Still, he didn’t push you away. Just held you through it. Let you grind and gasp and chase it. But that thick length never pushed into you.

He groaned, forehead resting against yours. “Wanna make you come just like this. Get your pretty little pussy used to the feel of me.”

You gasped as he rocked you just right, slowly against his cock.

"Next time, I’ll lay you down proper. Gonna kiss you while I slide in nice and slow."

A moan slipped from your lips. Your chest pressed fully to his now, sweat-slick skin dragging against his button-down with every stuttering breath you took. His broad chest rose and fell against yours, his breathing ragged and heavy, his nose nudging along your cheek as he grounded you there, holding you steady through every roll of your hips.

"You think this feels good, darlin’? Wait ‘til I’m inside you."

God, the heat was unbearable. It curled low and tight in your belly, spreading molten and hot through your limbs, making your thighs tremble. Your toes curled in your shoes as the tension built, a slow, blistering coil

You shuddered. He was right there, right there, and still it wasn’t enough. 

"Please-Lee-"

He growled softly. "You’re gonna take all of me when it’s time, aren’t you? Gonna let me stretch you open so sweet..." 

Every pass of your soaked folds over his cock was pure, tormenting bliss. You ached-ached-to have him inside you. You imagined it, imagined the stretch, the burn, the fullness, and your walls fluttered at the thought, clenching down on nothing with desperate precision.

The pleasure surged higher, thick and hot and blinding. Your hips jerked once, then again, body trembling with the effort to hold on just a second longer. But it was useless. You were already gone.

Your breath hitched and broke.

A soft, choked cry spilled from your lips as your body tensed around the heat building inside you. The muscles in your thighs seized, your stomach clenched tight, and your whole body bowed forward with a sob of sensation. White-hot pressure snapped loose in your core, flooding you with wave after wave of shuddering release. You came hard, grinding down against the thick length of him, coating him in slick as your climax rolled through you, impossible to hide.

Lee caught you, held you steady. One arm braced tight around your waist, the other cradling the back of your neck as he murmured against your cheek, “That’s my girl… that’s it… ride it out for me…”

Your breath came in gasps-stuttered and wet-your forehead pressed to his temple, the heat of him grounding you as the aftershocks rippled through your limbs. Every twitch of your hips drew another spark of overstimulated pleasure, until you could do nothing but cling to him, moaning softly, helpless and undone in his lap.

Lee held you through it, his hands gentle now, stroking your back, fingertips trailing up your damp spine. His breath was rough in your ear, hot against your skin as he pressed soft, dizzying kisses along your temple, down to your cheek.

You felt his cock still hard beneath you, still nestled against your soaked folds, pulsing. The mess of your climax was slick between you, and he was leaking against your skin, every breath he took catching low in his chest.

He didn’t pull away. Just let you rest there, trembling, while his arms kept you close. You felt his restraint in every tightened muscle, the tension still rolling off him.

“Lee,” you whispered, dizzy, dazed.

He kissed your jaw again, then your temple. His voice came rough, still thick with want. “Next time, baby. I’ll take you right. Lay you out, get my mouth on you first. Gonna make it count.”

You nodded against him, thighs still trembling.

“But right now,” he murmured, stroking his hand down your spine once more, “I gotta get you home. Your daddy’s probably waitin’, and me and... well, we got some talkin’ to do if I’m gonna start seein’ you proper.”

You blinked up at him, wide-eyed, chest still heaving.

He just smiled slow, crooked, eyes soft and serious all at once. "Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll handle it. Won’t be sneakin’ around with you. You deserve better than that."

You didn’t know what to say. Just nodded slowly, cheeks warm, thighs still slick, heart still stumbling somewhere behind your ribs. You reached up to fix your hair in the mirror, already knowing your skirt was too wrinkled, your skin too flushed. But Lee didn’t look away. Didn’t make you feel small. Just watched you like you were his.

He reached across you, turning the key in the ignition. The engine hummed to life. His hand lingered on the gear shift, knuckles brushing your knee.

“C’mon now, sugar,” he drawled, shifting into drive. “Let’s get you home before I change my mind and make you mine right here.”

it's not entirely your mother's fault. you were raised in this bumfuck small town where everyone says that women should take care of men, so that's the teaching that has been instilled in you. when you see how your mother doesn't do that, you can't help but think: "i can do better."

with your mother taking on the graveyard shifts as a nurse two towns over, you're the only one home when lee leaves his shift for the day. you start feeling a little competitive almost, wanting to prove yourself as a good woman of the family.

as the woman of the family.

so you begin to take over the chores around the house. you're the one throwing together ingredients you purchased over the weekend into a delicious, warm dinner to greet lee when he comes home. he was caught off guard the first time; he hasn't returned to a home-cooked meal in a long time. you tell him to get used to it because you're going to start taking care of him. you tell him that you're going to keep that soft belly of his round and full at all times.

you're the one looking up ways to clean the bloodstains off his white shirts, ironing them until crisp and making sure they're hung ready for him the next day. you hem his pants, patch up his clothes, and make sure all he needs to do to leave for work in the morning is put on his clothes and kiss you goodbye.

it doesn't stop there. once lee thanks you, once lee begins to appreciate your efforts, you only become increasingly greedy.

you start to do your hair, curling them gently until they fall in gentle waves. you do your makeup to hide the weary shadows under your eyes and line your lips cherry red to make sure lee notices, because he adores the color on you.

you do what you can to be the perfect daughter for him.

the perfect woman for him.

but it simply isn't enough. apparently not for lee. your greed seems to be inherited because lee still wants more. unfortunately, he doesn't want it from you. no, he goes back to your mother.

it's the first time your mother has ever taken a day off and so the two of them are home when you come back from classes. the two are in the kitchen, completely unaware that you're standing in the doorway. you watch as lee's thick hands slide up her dress, raking up the fabric to grab a handful of your mother's ass. he's kissing her neck, whispering words you can't hear in her ear.

what does she do? she brushes him off, tells him she's tired and would rather catch up on some much-needed sleep. once again, he's left cold in the dust.

and you don't feel disgusted from seeing that. no, you feel... jealous.

you've done all the work. you're the one who's taken care of him. why don't you get to reap the rewards? what's going to make him look at you?

when your mother is gone, you enter the kitchen and sidle up next to him. your arms wrap around his, soft breasts pressing up against his broad arm. "anything i can do to help, daddy?"

lee only looks at you. eyes almost pitiful. "no, sugar. this isn't something you can help with." it's his turn to brush you off and disappear down the hall.

all you feel is irritation. how dare he? you're his daughter. you can do anything to help your dad. you can be a woman too. you can be his woman too.

instead of giving up, you improve your tactics. you start wearing riskier clothes; really scraps of fabric that barely cover your tits and your stomach, shorts that ride so high you could see the under curve of your ass and your bare legs. you start listening to when he comes home, pretending to stumble out in only your towel like you've forgotten your pajamas.

you watch his eyes roam your body. you watch his eyes widen in surprise, how his pupils darken the rest of his gaze. but he only pinches his lips and lets you go on your way.

it doesn't matter how much you brush up against him, how much you curl up into him on the couch when he's watching the television. he doesn't do a damn thing.

despite the many lines he is apparently willing to cross for work, to cross to support this family, he doesn't seem inclined to do it with you.

however, all your little efforts seem to culminate into this grand finale. the event that takes the cake. it's one of lee's monthly poker nights. you usually hide out in your room and let him and his friends take over the living room with booze and cigars and cards.

not this time. this time, you want to show him what he's missing out on, especially when he's got enough liquor in him to sway his sense of judgment.

after lee brings them all to the setup, you come prancing in. a little babydoll dress. it's not terribly indecent, but it's not exactly proper attire either. lee seems to think so judging by the scowl on his face.

"sugar, what are you doin' down here?"

"just wanted to help you and your friends, daddy. shall i prepare some snacks?"

before lee can reject your proposal, his deputy across the table is already leering at you. his gaze drags up your thighs like the ghost of a touch. "i could use a snack, honey."

"fuck off, phil. this is my daughter. she ain't your wife."

"well, she ain't yours either," phil smirks then shifts his eyes back to you. "you got any pretzels?"

you spend the night doting on them. putting together bowls of snacks, refilling their drinks, even lighting their cigars. they absolutely delight in your presence but lee is none too pleased.

"lighten up, sheriff," another one of his friends smirk. "it's nice to have a woman in the room for once. brightens up the place, don'tcha think?"

"you fuck right off to hell, gary. this ain't no ordinary woman. this is my girl. you better keep your grubby hands to yourself."

but men aren't very good at listening, are they? as you're pouring phil another glass, he skates his hands up your thighs, fingers skimming the edge of your panties. you don't say anything but you make sure lee notices.

"hands, phil," lee snaps.

when you swap out the bowl of chips in front of gary, he openly looks at your tits practically spilling out of your dress, even licking his lips.

"eyes on the game, gary."

it doesn't take too long before lee's patience snaps and his hands shoot out to drag you onto his lap. "daddy!" you gasp.

"you sit right here and behave while i play. be my good luck charm."

"but the drinks—"

"they can serve themselves," lee grunts and his determined tone has a finality to it. with a beefy arm trapped around your waist, he keeps you firmly on his lap.

his breath ghosts your skin as he hooks his chin on your shoulder to peer at his cards. the way he's holding you presses your arms and tits together to create a gorgeous cleavage for everyone else to see. everyone's clearly distracted and lee hates the way they keep trawling their eyes all over you.

"wanna try, sweetheart?" his last friend offers up his lit cigar to you with a smile.

your hand rises only for lee to snatch it back down, keeping it trapped in his. "don't even think about it, smokes. my baby girl ain't touchin' that. especially not when your filthy mouth's been on it."

"lee is testy tonight," smokes chuckles, taking another drag.

"can't imagine why," phil smirks, gaze flicking over to you. he nods. "you ever been with a boy, honey?"

both you and lee freeze where you are. you instinctively begin to squirm, wondering if there is a right answer to this question.

lee's hand slides onto your bare thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. "well? answer the man."

his liquor-laced breath tickles your nose and you turn to find his face in such close proximity to yours. his eyes are glossed over, darker in this light. lips glistening with the sheen of whiskey on his lips. you resist the urge to lean over and kiss that flavor clean off his mouth.

"maybe," you giggle, shifting back against lee's soft wide frame.

"never brought that boy around to your dear old daddy, did you?" gary chortles.

"which boy?" lee's voice is quiet but gruff in your ears.

your pulse skips in your throat. your body is warm all over as lee's grip tightens on your thigh. you can feel yourself begin to leak between your legs. a whimper slipping past your lips at the look on his face, at the stern cadence of his voice.

"alright, pack it up, boys. time to call it a night. if we stay any longer, lee's going to pull out his rifle," gary chuckles as he scrapes his chair back.

the two of you barely pay them any mind as they awkwardly make their exit, quietly thanking you for your hospitality on the way out.

you try to get up to clean but lee keeps you still on his lap. his arm tightens around your waist.

"tell me which boy, sugar."

you laugh almost nervously. "there's no boy, daddy. i was just playing with you."

"you lyin' to me?"

"no, 'course not."

"you like playin' games?" lee asks, but the underlying warning is clear.

you played a little too close to the fire tonight. you may have just gotten burnt.

"let me rephrase, you like playin' with me?"

and your answer is honest. "i love playing with you."

lee's lips curl into a devilish grin on his handsome face. your dad is just so thick everywhere. his neck, his cheeks, his shoulders, his arms, his thighs. his stomach that fits into the curve of your back when you arch.

"wanna play a game with me?" he murmurs as he tugs your hair to one side.

the flimsy strap of your dress slips down your shoulder. neither of you bother to fix it.

the air is wrought with tension. you can barely breathe. lee brushes his lips along the back of your shoulder and up your neck. he breathes in that sweet perfume you've sprayed on, one that belongs to your mother that lee gifted her one year. one that she hasn't touched in so very long.

"smell so pretty," lee mumbles. "look so pretty too. you dress up for the boys?"

"dressed up for you, daddy."

a groan wrenches out of his chest. "you like callin' me daddy, sugar?"

"that's what you are," you try to innocently say.

lee tugs at the other strap of your dress, letting it fall down your shoulders. with that gone, the lace falls down to your waist, leaving you bare.

"i could feel your ass on my cock the entire night," lee mutters. "could feel this gorgeous thing rubbing up against my chub."

you bite on your bottom lip, looking straight ahead. lee's hands slide up your sides until he's going under your arms to cup your breasts. you let out a small gasp as his fingers begin to toy with your nipples, pinching and pulling until you're writhing on his lap.

"you do this on purpose? is this what you want? you just want your daddy to touch you?"

"oh god," you moan.

"don't use the lord's name in vain. we're already going to hell for this, i don't need another reason for him to punish us," lee taunts. his fingers are skilled as they grope your tits, pushing them together, fingers digging into the pliant flesh. "look at these pretty tits. made 'em myself."

"daddy," you stop him with warmth creeping up your cheeks.

"me and your mom made this pretty girl right here. only right if i get to use her, right?"

you nod eagerly, "yes, use me. i'm just here to help you. here to make you feel good."

"such a good, obedient girl. you're too good to me."

"i wanna be good just for you."

lee sinks his teeth into the crook of your neck as he keeps one hand on your breast and the other falling between your legs. he spreads his knees, parting your legs along with him. when he cups your core, he lets out a surprised sound.

"you've been bare all night?"

"no, i slipped off my panties earlier," you confess, biting your bottom lip. "when i went to refill the pretzels."

"fuckin' hell. did you enjoy phil copping a feel? bet those guys haven't seen a body like this in ages."

"mhmm, but i like your hands more," you admit sweetly.

with a proud grin, he tweaks your nipple again. "where'd you learn to sweet talk me like this? always knew you were sweet, but not this sweet."

"i'm just telling the truth, daddy."

lee prods a finger in. it's almost too easy. how wet you are. how greedily your cunt swallows up his finger. your folds are slick as he pushes one fat finger in, your pussy clenching around him. then he adds another because it doesn't seem to fill you up.

"pussy's kind of loose, sugar. you been lettin' anyone else in here?"

your heart spikes. "no, daddy. i told you."

"then why is your pussy takin' me so easily? fit two fingers like it's nothing."

"i-i don't know. maybe it's just because i'm so wet."

"or maybe i made you with the pussy of a fuckin' whore. a pussy made to be fucked by fat cocks. i was worried you wouldn't be able to take mine but guess i never had a reason to," he chuckles. "this pussy's going to stretch around my cock just fine."

you moan as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the drag of his thick digits sparking a delicious sort of lightning throughout your body. his one hand is still playing with your tit, tugging and squeezing until it's sore and sensitive. lee laps at your neck like a dog, tasting your smooth skin with the rough graze of his tongue.

when you open your eyes, you find lee's fingers dripping with your juice in front of you. he presses the tips against your bottom lip first, then orders you.

"suck."

"daddy—mmph—" he pushes the fingers in, touching the back of your throat as you gag around the length and the flavor. every complaint that rests in your throat gets shoved back down.

it's icky. it's sloppy.

"clean my fingers, sugar, or i won't fuck you."

you whine but, once again, you're an obedient girl. you lick around his fingers, your delicate hands wrapping around his wrists to keep his hand steady while you suck on his fingers like a good girl. lee groans behind you, forehead against your back.

"good girl," he rasps.

then he lifts you up all too easily, pushing aside everything on the table so he can press your face down. your cheek is against the velvet surface and you hear the clink of his belt before you peek at him shoving his trousers down.

you yelp when his fingers grab your hips to drag you back towards him. the tip of his cock pokes at your entrance and you can feel how big he is. how thick he is.

"you asked for this, sugar. temptin' me all fuckin' month for me to stick my cock in this pretty pussy, now you've got it."

lee sheathes himself all the way in. cock buried to the hilt. the force of impact, the sheer thickness of him that stretches you out with a burn has you gasping for air. your fingers scratch at the table and lee quickly grabs your hands and pins it on your lower back.

"don't fuck up my table. just take it like a good girl."

he begins pistoning relentlessly, cock bullying your insides like he's trying to scramble every inch of you. the burn sears heat into your skin, but is quick to melt away to a delicious kind of stinging that has your mind buzzing alive.

lee grunts with every thrust, like he's putting all of himself into every jerk of his hips.

"fuckin' tight ass cunt. greedy pussy's takin' me so well. this cunt's better than your mother's, is that what you wanted to hear?"

you whine with his words, clamping down around his cock even tighter.

"i asked you a question, girl," lee growls, pushing your hands down harder against your back until you mewl in pain.

"y-yes," you stutter.

"pert tits so much better than your mother's. young, tight pussy for me to defile. god, i can't get enough of this pussy now that i've had a taste. i'm gonna make you cockwarm me every night, sugar. once your mother leaves for work, you're sittin' on my cock all night."

you gurgle incoherently, babbling an agreement in your stupor that you probably won't remember tomorrow.

lee fucks deep inside of you, every drag of his cock is the spark of a match that sets off another round of fire inside your gut. his thick belly presses against your back as he leans forward, knocking the air straight out of your lungs.

"my sweet daughter's pussy. i can't wait to fill this up. i can't wait to cream inside you."

"n-no, please. i'm not on any protection," you groan.

"now you wanna complain? after pushin' me to the edge. no, you're going to take it like a girl. if it takes, then it takes. gonna tell your mom how you've been whorin' yourself out so we have to keep you home. i ain't lettin' you go anywhere. you're stayin' right here with me."

"daddy, no. please."

but your protests fall on deaf ears. even worse, it seems to egg lee on. every cry from your lips has him fucking you harder, faster, deeper. the pain is numbing, the pleasure is blinding. your vision is blurry from the tears that have welled in your eyes from both the pain and pleasure.

"fuck you so good every night, sugar. i'm going to keep this spoiled little pussy filled. if you wanna act like a brat, i'll treat you like one too. you're gonna be my good little wife, aren't you?"

your heart slams against your ribcage. "mhmm."

"gonna be so good to me. take care of me. feed me. my perfect little girl becoming my perfect little wife. nobody else has to know. just you and me."

"daddy," you whine as your stomach tightens. you can feel the climax chasing after you, a sensation that has your legs tensing and back arching further.

"my dirty little secret. my sweet, sweet girl."

"w-wanna cum, please. please let me cum, daddy."

"yeah, that's it," lee rolls his hips intentionally slower, drawing out your climb.

you squirm against him, nudging your ass back until you're practically fucking yourself on his cock. "please, daddy, please please." drool's rolling down your chin. messy girl spilling everywhere. cunt leaking, mouth dripping.

lee tightens his hold around your wrists, strong enough to bruise, and grabs your hips as he fucks into you. he goes fast and hard and mean. so deliciously mean.

the orgasm crashes over you and drags you under like a tidal wave. you're left gasping for air as your pussy clenches around him and his own orgasm rocks through his body. his thick frame shudders as he spills warmth inside of you, painting every inch of your insides your shade of pure.

"that's good, that's my good girl," lee groans. "my perfect baby girl."

a whimpered whine leaves your lips again as you shake through the last of your pleasure. lee pushes in a little deeper, silently praying that some of it is going to stick. he may be old but he's hoping those little suckers still have some strength to them.

"i'm gonna carry you upstairs with me still plugging my cum inside your cunt. then i'm going to fuck you again in the shower and then again in my bed until your mom comes home. when she does, i want you to smile at her and ask her what she wants for breakfast. got it?"

"yes, daddy."

requested by anon: dad!lee bodecker with spoiled reader pls!! where she lowk has Electra complex lol a/n: after i finished writing this, i realized you said spoiled reader which i completely missed. i do apologize but i hope you enjoy this regardless, especially with the sprinkling of the electra complex! if you enjoyed this, please like/reblog/comment. kisses!