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shamrockqueen · 1 year

Text

Train Delay

Pairing : Mobster Yuri Boyka x Reader

Warnings : Semi-Public sex, Grabbing him in a public space, rough fuck, smut (18 or over only), tearing clothes, spitting

Word count : 2395

AO3 page Link

It’s just an average daily ride on the train. The metal beast hissed to a halt, and all the passengers at the station shambled on. The conductor announced the next stop and it lurched forward as it started back up again.

It’s all like clockwork..more or less.

At 6:15 the train arrives (15 minutes late); at 6:25 it leaves the station. Everyone is to be seated by the time the train has departed, that’s when the men leave the front of the train to take their tribute from all the passengers.

Each person hands over a little wad of cash to the large man as he walks down the aisle, and they are allowed to go about their own business.

The mob has run the train since you were a little girl riding with your mother, and not much has changed other than their going rate.

You could have driven a dozen times over by now, but you choose to take the more dangerous way into town just to see him. The large bear-like man in front of the train car, ready to collect the cash for his boss.

He had been the center of your attention since you’d started taking the train into the city about a month back. Your car battery had given out and you had to catch the next public transport out of town.

You remembered the rules and had some money ready when this beautiful burly man stepped in. His heavy boots made the old metal squeak under his feet as he made his way down the row of seats.

Your hand shook as you curled it around your few dollars. The definition in his muscles could even be seen from where his shirt was clinging to his body from the little opening in his coat. The v at the top showed off the dusting of chest hair, and you knew if you got to run your hand down his torso you’d just melt on top of him.

His beard was well trimmed but still thick, and the same could be said about the line of hair at the top of his head in a flat mohawk with a buzz cut on each side.

When you hesitated to hand him the cash that day; too zoned out, staring at him; he’d barked at you to quit stalling, and your heart nearly leapt from your chest.

By the next day you were back on the train, and the same as every morning he was seen walking down the aisle to collect the money. You’re seated at the back of the train-car as you waited for him to make his way to you.

You hold the little wad of money in your left hand with the aisle of the train to your right.

When he made it to your seat, he huffed an irritated sigh, but instead of asking you to hand it over, he'd begrudgingly leaned in above you to take the cash. His peck brushed your shoulder as he towered over you and it left you holding your breath.

You didn’t know what had come over you at that moment, and in a split second your hand pressed to his clothed crotch. The shaft of his cock was in your very grasp through his thick jeans, and the mere thought of its actual size made you sweat. You hear his voice catch in his throat with a grunt before he looks back at you with his jaw nearly hitting your lap.

Your hand was there for just a moment as your terror filled eyes met his dark gaze. You're basically holding your breath until you quickly let go, but he doesn’t move just yet. He leans back up slowly before twisting his head to the side with a pop from his neck joint.

He shakes himself out of the uneasy headspace, and walks past you to collect the rest of the money before leaving through the door at the front of the train car.

You were terrified. You didn’t mean to do something so obscene, it’s like your muscles were moving on their own. You basically just assaulted a man on the train. A MOBSTER no less, and you grabbed his dick in broad daylight!

Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it rocking your body back and forth. If it beat any faster, it would pop right out of your tiny body, successfully spraying half the train in a hefty coat of red regret.

You wanted to sink into the frayed pleather of your seat as you fretted for the rest of the ride, not taking notice of a pair of brown eyes staring daggers at you through the glass of the door sitting at the front of the train car.

Even as the old metal creaks and the train shakes on the uneven track, his gaze never wavered.

When you finally arrived at your station it was a lurch of pure relief, and you couldn’t get away fast enough. You practically bolted out of your seat to push at the door before it even opened. Your haste only garnered a few unsavory stares, but by the time you’d rushed out of the train, nobody cared about this strange lady running towards the women’s restroom.

You needed to take refuge in the only small space you could find. You push through the door and grab ahold of the nearest sink. The stalls were empty and the bathroom nice and quiet. You’d think you were finally free to be a nervous wreck in peace, but you’d be a fool for believing so.

Not once did you take notice of the thunderous thumps of heavy boots meeting the stone floor, as a greatly disgruntled entity followed not too far behind.

No, you didn’t realize that the consequences of your actions had walked aright up behind you until it burst through the door. The flimsy wood clacked against the wall and all that could be seen was that big mean mobster, brown eyes on fire as they stared you down.

“You think you can just run away?!” Those heavy boots were almost as loud as he was. Your lips lock tightly together and you can only shake your head in response. He could break you with one hand; a once exciting fantasy now filling you with fear.

Fear that still pooled in your core while making you shake before him.

‘Thump, thump, thump’ is all you here as he backed you right up against the sink “Open your fucking mouth and speak, bitch!”

“No..sir! I wasn’t running from I-I swear!” Oh, but you were, you ran away from the big bad mobster only to lead him to this secluded place where he could crack you over his knee without any witnesses.

“You think that was funny? Is this joke to you? You grab the big man and everyone will laugh?”

He waves his hands at the indication that you’d embarrassed him on purpose for a cheap chuckle.

“No, no. I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me! I swear I wasn’t joking with you!” The terror is more than evident on your little face, as you try not to get yourself broken in half by this Russian thug.

“No joke?” His big menacing body corners you back towards the sink until your dress-clad ass is squished against it. You’ll have to grip the side of the counter just to keep from backing up onto it all together. Your efforts were fruitless as each of his large hands grips you by the back of the legs and pushes you the rest of the way onto the counter.

Your thrown on your side and have to scramble to sit up and face him. Your little sounds of struggle bounce off the tiles walls, and yet each one falls on deaf ears. He just stands and watches as you squirm before him, hands still gripping the sides of your legs to keep you from kicking at him. But, your intentions would never be to push him away.

One of his hands slides from your thigh over the fabric of your stockings to grip your ankle. The other hand travels inward between them, letting his nails dig into the shear pantyhose and tearing at it like cheap strings.

“This what you want?!” His voice lowers, it’s almost a request as well as a warning. A softer side of him that only peers out from behind his prickly exterior. Maybe it’s his way of giving you a chance to run away from the scarier part of him. You didn’t want to run this time, but your silent at first as you knuckles turn white from gripping the countertop.

“Answer!” That softness is gone in a matter of seconds, and you stutter out “Y-yes, please. I-I want this..soo bad.”

You slowly pull your legs apart to nervously invite him in, and each of his large hands rest on your thighs where had had destroyed your stockings. It was an obstacle that needed dealt with, much like your little white cotton panties were to him now.

“Good girl. Saying please. Next you say ‘thank you’?”

You nod, but the words don’t come out. He didn’t expect an actual ‘thank you’ and in turn he doesn’t brutishly scold you this time.

He stands right between your legs, but his hand goes straight for the jugular with a tight squeeze. He leans in and bites at your lips and cheek before stealing a violent angry heady kiss, as he fumbled to unzip his jeans.

Your head is pushed too far to look down and see the shear size of what you once had against your palm. You figured it was long and thick, but now that it was hard, pink, and angry, you would have gasped at its girth and realized you would truly be ripped open.

Your breathless as he squeezes the life from your little neck, and the only sensation is his tongue wiggling around yours as the blood rushes to your head. The hand that isn’t anchored to your throat pulls at the soft white fabric that blocked your entrance in a fist full of panty.

His lips leave yours with an audible smack, and you can feel the soft head prodding at folds as it collected your slick dew before pressing into your needy little opening.

The pain of his stretch was dulled along with all of your senses until his hand unclenches from around your throat and a rush of oxygen hits your lungs and brain. He shoved himself to the hilt, practically tearing you apart just as you took your first breath.

His hand snakes around the back of your neck to anchor you as he drags and pulls himself gingerly, giving you just a little reprieve. Now that your airways were open, a stream of moans and wails erupted from your chest to echo around the small space.

His voice was low, nearly a growl, as he dragged himself along your tight walls and hugged you close. It was like being squeezed by a hungry bear. Soft and suffocating, yet just as dangerous.

Through the dull throb of pain and the twist of sweet pleasure you can feel yourself shiver in his arms. Your core flutters and flexes around his thick cock, the the point that it almost hurts to squeeze around him.

The drag of his cock and the lingering graze of his teeth against your skin makes the dim light overhead turn into a bright white as it creeps into your vision.

His thrusts sputter as he shakes your body to meet his. Hi leans in to bite one last kiss from your lips before bottoming out and breaking past the back of your cunt. His thrusts were now sloppy and wet as he filled a complete stranger full of himself.

He can feel a little bit of it leak around his cock as a shudder runs up his spine. He could feel a chilling sweat that had built up under his coat as the cold world came creeping back in.

His knees nearly buckled underneath him and he had to rest your weight back onto the counter to keep himself steady.

He pulls himself away slowly, mesmerized by the sight of his seed spilling out of you and dripping to the floor. When he looks back up, you're still staring at him with wet needy eyes watching him tuck himself back into his jeans.

You were like a sweet little trubochki, filled to the brim with crème.

You try to plant your feet back onto the floor, but the second you touch the ground your heels go sideways.

He grabs you be the waist to steady you as he’s growling out a harsh but breathy “stand the fuck up.”

You can barely comply, and his hand shoots out to clamp down around your jaw. Your mouth is propped open by the force of his thumb and fingers digging into the sides of your face. His lips pucker slightly and a quick spurt of spit is hawked right onto your tongue.

You squeal a little as the taste of cigarettes and coffee stain your little pink muscle.

“Watch your fucking hands next time, yeah?!” His face is still close and his once booming voice was quiet and yet still dripping with aggression.

“Yes sir” you answered quickly. It was a miracle you could even breathe, let alone respond. One hand barely holding on to his sleeve; another white knuckling the porcelain edge of the sink when he lets you go. It’s almost like free-falling as your ankles shake from the strain of just holding your own body weight.

You had let go of his coat before he turned to leave you, storming his way out of the ladies room. You could still taste and even feel the wad of saliva he’d spat onto your tongue, and now, as you were alone to savor it, you let yourself take a slow swallow.

‘Next time’ will echo on and on in your head for the whole ride home.

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