#fargo fanfic

[spookysteddie]

Always Comin’ Home to You

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

18+ MINOR DNI

dec: after a fight with his step-mother Gator comes home late, scaring you. His bruises tell you of the day he had and all he wants is to feel you.

cw: Swearing, abandonment, mental / physical abuse (Roy to Gator), domestic abuse (Roy to Karen), bruises, mention of death, implication of anxiety, murder, toxic religion themes, gator calls his step-mom a cunt, crying, fingering, daddy kink, dd/lg themes if you squint, Gator calls himself her God (what's the name for that?), unprotected penetrative sex, cream pie, promises. (let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 3.7k

a/n: I need Gator Tillman like I need to fucking breathe. This man is WOW. I just want to pet him and tell him he is, in fact, a winner and then suck him off. Anyway, I hope y'all like this heheh

...

Gator Tillman didn’t have a lot of good things in his life. 

Between his mother leaving, his father being as asshole and everything in between, Gator was a little fucked up and very morally gray. Doing his daddy's dirty work in the hopes Roy will finally be proud of him. 

Now, there was one good thing (or person) in his life, one human who brought out the best in him. One person who saw him for the person he was deep inside. The one who saw him as a winner. 

You. 

You were everything Gator could ever dream of, his perfect girl. 

“Gator? Baby have you seen my sunglasses?” You pull some clothes out of the hamper, double (triple) checking that they weren’t in there. “Do you have them? Are they in your cruiser?!” 

You hear Gators heavy footsteps before he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, “have ya checked on top of ya head?” You can hear the smugness in his voice and instantly you want to punch him. 

You were an angel and subsequently the sweetest girl. Shit, you make Gator catch and release the spiders you find in the house because you ‘want someone to grant you the same kindness in life’. Whatever that means. But of course he does it, because the last thing he wants is to make you cry. 

Well, that’s not true. He loves making you cry while your wrapped around his cock, fucking you so deep and hard that you can’t form a complete thought. Only then does he enjoy the tears streaming down your face. 

But at the same time, you had a wicked attitude. One he liked to fuck outta you at every opportunity. And when you look up at him he knows it’s coming. 

“Do they look like they’re on my fuckin’ head, Gator? Jesus Christ.” But he doesn't fail to notice you subtly check in the mirror to make sure they aren’t actually on your head. They aren’t, for the record. 

Gator is not like his daddy. Does he have his fathers attitude? Absolutely. But he has never raised his hand to you outside of the bedroom, much to his fathers dislike. Claiming he’s watched his father beat on his step-mother and even though he hates her – only because she gave birth to his twin sisters, giving his father two more chances to fuck their futures up – he doesn’t think it’s right. 

He balls his fists, nails digging into the center of his hand. He has too much shit to do today and, frankly, doesn’t have time for this shit. “Watch ya mouth bunny. Lucky my dad aint home to hear you take Christs name in vain.” 

Gator is right. His daddy already doesn't like you, doesn’t think you’re Godly enough. He also seems to think you’re an idiot simply because Gator does everything for you, even down to tying your shoes. It’s something Gator likes doing, taking care of you as it helps ease his mind. 

But at the same time Roy wonders how his son could catch and keep a girl like you. It’s emotional whiplash most of the time. Of course, Gator takes the brunt of his daddy's issues when it comes to you, never letting his daddy so much as look wrong in your direction. 

You sigh, running your hands down your pink skirt, “look, can you please help me find them? You know my eyes don’t do well with the sun bouncing off the snow.” 

His eyes soften, loving when you need his help, “I’m willin’ to bet they’re in the cruiser on the floor boards.” 

Your face heats as you remember exactly why they’d be on the floor of the cruiser, your escapades from your little meeting at the police station last night. There was always that preliminary fuck before going back to Roys (cause God forbid Gator ever come stay at your place. His daddy needs him nice and close.) considering you don’t know how to keep your moans quiet. So, he tires you out, not so much that you can’t drive back to his place, but just enough to where you’re silent during round two and three and four. 

The cold nips at your bare legs, winter just as brutal as every other year in this godforsaken state. You swear it never gets easier, winter, and the older you get the more you think about moving south. You think Gator would like the warmer weather, probably find the warmth soothing. 

“Ah ha! Got ‘em!” Gator hands them to you with a huge smile on his face. He looks almost boy-like. It’s rare he has a genuine smile, especially when his daddy is around. 

“Gator,” his step-mothers voice rings out from the porch, making you both jump. He doesn’t turn around, doesn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing his frustration. “Stop yellin’ cause your sisters are sleepin’!” 

“Karen, they’re at the other end of this fuckin house and your scratchy ass voice is louder than me.” 

You can see her huff, “I should call your father!” 

He sighs, turning on his heel, “I don’t think that’ll be a good idea. Dad’s… a little busy today.” Gator knows exactly what his daddy is busy with, not that he’d ever tell you. Terrified that he would somehow put you in danger. 

You know that there was shit his daddy made him do. Things that forced him to come home with black eyes, bloody lips and bruises on his knuckles and body. It hurt your heart every time he came home like that, telling you it was nothing while he winces as he takes off his clothes. 

Karen seethes from the porch and you see her look from Gator to you and back. Gator, who notices everything, sees it and steps in front of you, pushing you behind him. “Don’t look at her like that, Karen.” 

That seems to annoy her more, “she better not be here tonight. You hear me? Don’t need your sisters hearin the stuff you two get up to at night.” 

“Not any worse than dads hands hittin’ your face while they sit at the kitchen table.” You cringe at his statement, seeing Roy hit Karen more times than you can count. “You don’t run this house. Or tell me what to do.” He spits on the ground and turns away, waiting till he hears the door slam to speak. 

“I fuckin hate her. She’s sucha little bitch.” 

You wrap your arms around his middle, breathing him in. “Can stay at mine tonight if you want. Don’t wanna get you in trouble,” you murmur into his shirt. “O-or we can spend a night apart. I know we haven’t done that inna while but just till this blows over an’ we know she didn’t say nothin’ to your father.” 

You know you're rambling, but all you want is to make Gators life comfortable and safe. You know there is a small chance that Karen will call Roy, tell him what happened, maybe even lie (she’s done that before) and say you upset her. If that happens, Gator will get it good, possibly another broken arm or dislocated jaw. That’s the last thing you want. You can feel you chest ache, eyes burning at the idea of Roy hurtin’ him. 

Gator pulls your face back from his chest, making you look up at him, “don’t you be worryin’ bout me now. Roy ain’t gonna do shit and I don’t sleep when you aren’t curled up next to me,” he kisses your forehead. “I’ll put some feelers out to see if that little bitch called him. Gotta meeting at 3 with him.” 

You nod, your hand coming up to fix his jacket. In reality, you just need something to distract from the burning behind your eyes. 

“Hey? I’m serious. I’ll be fine, okay?” He lets you go to reach into his pocket, pulling out some cash and handing it to you, “why don’t you go get your nails done or something, yeah?” 

You know refusing to take the money wont go well, so you take it, putting it in the pocket of your jacket. “Thank you, daddy,” you whisper out, knowing you aren’t really supposed to say that outside of Gators locked bedroom door. 

He lets it slide, the day has been stressful enough for you. “That’s my good bunny. Now, run along and I’ll meet you here at six okay?” 

You tilt your head, “no station tonight?” 

“Nah… Jerry is working and he’s got a starin’ problem when it comes to ya. Don’t feel like scoopin’ eyeballs out. Too messy.” 

You shudder but kiss him goodbye before getting in your car. You have a very bad feeling his 3pm meeting isn’t going to go how he expects. 

… 

You were right. 

You knew you were right the second you pulled up to his house at six on the dot and he wasn’t home. You reach for your phone, looking to see if maybe you’d missed a text, phone call, shit even an email from your boyfriend. 

Nothing. 

Even when you try to call him, you're met with a voicemail. You can feel the bile rise in the back of your throat, fear making your skin itch. Was this it? Was this the time Roy sends him out there to do his dirty work and he doesn’t make it home? 

He could be anywhere right now. Not only that, if he was dead, no one would do shit for him. No funeral, no service, nothing. His dad would go on and wipe his hands clean of his “loser” son, probably more than happy that the ties of his first wife are gone for good. 

Oh God, what if he was dying, the cold freezing the blood onto his skin, frostbite settling in. He could be so scared, praying to the God he doesn’t believe in that you come find him. His clothes are probably wet too, sticking to him thanks to the sn-

A knock on your window makes you jump, a yelp falling from your lips. You look over, seeing the blue of his jacket in your peripheral and the sight makes you gasp. You’re quick to shut off the car, jumping out and getting a closer look at him. 

He looks… awful. His right eye is nearly swollen shut, dry blood sticking to his split brow. There is a bruise on the other side of his face and under his left eyes, clearly he got hit in the nose. 

“Baby…” this time you can't stop the tears from falling. “Baby what happened?” 

He lets out a long, deep sigh, his hands resting on your cheeks. “Fuckin’ cunt called dad. Said I needed a lesson in respect. S’how I got the bruise on my left eye.” He wipes the tear that falls from your eye, his touch soft and kind, “sent me to do some shit across state lines. Guy beat the fuck outta me. He ain’t alive no more though.” 

You sniffle, “is it just your face?” 

He shakes his head but doesn’t say more. He knows you’ll see the rest once he gets you inside. Well … “we-I can’t let you sleep here tonight, Gator.” 

He shakes his head, “it’s fine. Dad said so himself. Come on.” 

And so he drags you inside, Karen looking like the cat that caught the canary as she watches you help Gator walk. You make a mental note to never forget this, never forget how she treats her step-son.

You push open Gators bedroom door, making sure to shut it silently and lock it before settling Gator on the bed. “Let’s get ya into some comfy clothes, yeah?” 

You crouch down in front of him, making quick work of untying his boots. 

“Baby, I can do this. I’m the one who's supposed to help you.” 

That only makes more tears burn your eyes. You hated that he never let anyone help him, hated that he always had to be strong, couldn’t ever cry, nothing. You hated Roy for making him like this and you hated his mother for leaving and not saving her only son from a life of pain. 

“Stop. Just-just let me help you, Gator please.”  You pull at the laces to loosen them and make it easier to slide off his boot, your vision blurry from the tears in your eyes. 

His boot comes off easy and you make sure you keep your hold on it so it doesn’t make any noise on the floor. Same with the second one. 

You stand, unclipping his thigh holster and setting it on the nightstand where he likes it. Incase of emergencies. Next is his belt, coming off with ease. He stops you when you get to his pants, making you look up at him. He hates the silver shining along your waterline. 

“I love you, little bunny.” He says it so quietly that you almost miss it. 

“I love you too.” Your voice cracks as you say. 

You work on his pants, popping open the buttons with ease. Next you pull his shirt out of his pants and pull it over his head. By the time his shirt hits the floor, you’ve gotten a full look at his bare torso. A bruise is forming along his ribs, it’s really red and slightly turning purple. 

“Jeez baby,” your hands gently touch his skin and he hisses a little. “S-sorry.” 

He says nothing as he helps you pull off his pants, leaving him in just his boxers. 

“Stay here,” you tell him as you collect his dirty clothes and go into his attached bathroom. You sigh as you grab a face cloth, turning the water on so it heats up. It, of course, takes forever for the water to warm. Nothing like shit water heating thanks to the frigid winter. But once it does you wet the cloth and grab the first aid kit and go back to him. 

You’ve done this before, cleaned him up, you’ve even stitched him up. You’d like to thank the internet for telling you how to do that and you’ve gotten good over the last two years. 

“S’is gonna hurt. Luckily it looks like you don’t need stitches. Just don’t move while I work okay?” 

He nods, “yes, baby. Ya don’t have to do this. I know you don’t like blood.” This was true, you didn’t like blood at all, barely even being able to handle papercuts. But for some reason, when it comes to him, you can manage to push it aside. Cuts can get infected and when they’re on his face it means it could go to the brain faster. 

You carefully dab the wet rag around his split eyebrow, gently clearing off the blood and making sure that you don’t resplit the cut open. “I think it split from the swellin’ but I don’t think it needs stitches.” 

He nods slightly, “good. I was hoping it’d close on its own.” 

You put some wound cleaner on it before you bandage it. He might have a scar there unless he leaves it alone. But knowing Gator, it’ll open again. You clean up around his face and causing a hiss to leave his lips once you touch his cheek and eye. You apologize, applying some cream that makes bruises heal faster to his face and ribs. 

“That’s everything.” You force a small smile at him, tossing the wet cloth into the hamper and putting the first aid kit away. You get undressed, needing skin to skin contact. Then, you climb into bed, snuggling up to him, resting your head on the safe side of his chest. 

The silence stretches, Gators arm around your shoulders, his thumb moving softly. 

“I thought you were dead in the snow,” the words tumble out of you before you can stop them. 

He thumb stills for a heartbeat before resuming, “but m’not.” 

“I’m sorry this is the life you were forced into. It is not fair.” 

He kisses your head, breathing you in for a moment, “it’s not your fault, bunny. You didn’t do any of this. Shoulda kept my mouth shut when it came to Karen. Just… smile an’ wave.” 

You shake your head, kissing his chest, “not how it’s supposed to be.”

Gator rolls over you, forcing you on your back. He bites back a pained groan. “My sweet bunny, listen to me. I am here. I am safe. S’gonna take a lot more to kill me.” He leans down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. 

You let your hands slide into his hair, deepening the kiss. Honestly, you just need to feel him. He knows it and if he’s being honest, he needs to feel you too. He’ll never say it out loud, but as he laid in the snow, doing his best to get the fucker he was sent to kill off of him, he was scared. 

Scared he would die and you’d spend the rest of you life wondering. He knew no one would fill you in and he knew his daddy wouldn’t have a service for him. You’d be alone, wondering what happened to him, praying to the god you don’t believe in that he’d come home again. So, he fought like hell and now, he really needs you. Needs to be inside you. 

You pull back, breaking the kiss, “Gator, we can’t.” 

“We can. Please baby.” Gator doesn’t beg, he didn’t need to when it came to you. Always more than willing to do what he says and give him what he wants. His begging makes you give in. 

His hands push your underwear aside, feeling how ready you already are for him. Always ready, always wanting and only for him. 

You pull him in for a kiss while his fingers find your clit with ease, swallowing your moans. He always knows exactly how you like it, fingers moving in swift circles and just the right amount of pressure. 

“So fucking pretty when you’re at my mercy,” he pushes two fingers inside you, the stretch making your brain go fuzzy. “Looked so fucking pretty in your little skirt and frilly socks. My little angel.” 

The way Gator is cooing at you, his fingers crooked up to touch the one spot that drives you nuts and you can feel yourself slipping into that headspace you both love. You’re trying so hard to be logical, knowing he’s hurt and can hurt himself further. 

“Thank you, daddy. Bought it because I thought you’d like it.” Your voice is getting small, breathy. 

He grins, kissing down your neck, “I love it. Love everything you wear. Look so pretty in your pastels.” His thumb finds your clit, a soft moan falling from your lips. It’s embarrasing how quickly you are to coming around his fingers. 

“P-please. Gator please.” 

He smirks, “use your words, sweet girl. Tell me what you want.” 

You can feel your body heat up from both the coil inside you winding tighter and the embarrassment of having to say what you want. “I-I need to cum. So bad.” 

The second the words are in the air, Gator pulls his hands away, leaving your orgasm to fade away. “NO! No, no, no, no please!” 

He sucks a mark into your neck, his tongue licking over the spot to sooth it.

“Need ya to cum on my cock, baby.” 

Before your brain can catch up, he’s sliding inside you. The stretch is something you haven't gotten used to in the last two years. It feels like he's splitting you in half, his cock filling you completely. 

“OH! Oh my god.” You're already panting, squeezing him so hard he’s fighting to not bust prematurely. 

Gator drops to his forearms and pumps his hips, getting right in your face. He’s so close you can smell the fruity scent from the vape he was no doubt huffing on before coming to see you. 

“S’right baby, I am your God and I love when ya pray to me.” 

You can’t help the way your cunt clenches, a moan falling from your lips that is just slightly too loud for either of your comforts. At the moment, you don’t care. You know Roy already got his fill of kicking Gatos' ass. He’s not going to worry about it tonight. 

“Daddy, please. I’m so close.” 

His hips are snapping hard, cock hitting your cervix with every thrust. He feels like he’s inside your throat and you can’t tell if his grunts are from pain, pleasure, or both. 

“Not yet. Almost there. D-don’t cum yet.” 

Your nails sink into his biceps, hips starting to stutter. 

“Please! Fuck! Oh god…” 

He smirks, eyes meeting yours, “yeah? I know how bad ya need it. How bad ya need me to fill this pretty, little cunt up. Breed an own ya f’ever? Hm?” His eyes are black and he looks absolutely feral. Primal.  

His hand snakes down the front of your body, finding your clit with ease. You gasp, thighs starting to shake. You knew you weren’t going to last but you needed his permission. You craved his praise and being in his good graces. You’d let him do anything to you, that’s how much you trust him. 

“Yes! Yes! Whatever you want. Anything.” You don’t even know what you’re saying at this point, too cock drunk to think of anything besides him and what he’s doing to you. 

He laughs, seeing your eyes glazed over and tears of pleasure lining your eyes, “cum for me bunny. Do it.” 

It’s all you need to fall into bliss. 

His hand covers your mouth knowing how loud you’re about to be. His face drops into your neck as he cums with you, both of your moans muffled by each other's bodies. His cum fills you, leaking out as he brings you both down. 

His hand slowly leaves your mouth, head lifting to look at you. 

“I love you. I fuckin’ love you so fuckin’ much.” He leaves little kisses all over your face, trying to bring you back to him. “You hear me? M’never leavin’ you.” 

You take a shuddering inhale, trying to form a coherent thought, “P-promise?” 

You hold your pinky up to him, hands shaking while adrenalin continues to run through your veins. He giggles, hooking his pinky with yours, “promise. I’ll always come home to you. I will always fall asleep next to you.” 

He looks down, flipping your hand over and checking out your nails, “I can’t wait for these pretty, red claws to be wrapped around my cock.” 

Your chest lightens as you both laugh together.

[wroteclassicaly]

Gator definitely gets off on eating your pussy. Not only lapping up what you give him, but the praises as well.

He’s eager and enthusiastic, a quick learner with your guidance. Mostly your hands tugging that coiffed mane into caramel colored disarray - slick and greasy between your fingers from the gel he layers on top. He ruts his slender hips into the floor, which you permit the poor and pathetic boy to do. He’s uncaring that you don’t shave at times, eagerly inhaling the creamy curls like a wildly starved creature, his nose buried in them, nudging your clit. Learning not to jackhammer your walls with his thick fingers, now that had been a task and a half.

Letting him know that what he’s seen and heard, just because he’s a guy — it doesn’t mean he knows jack shit. And he’s gotten better, to his credit. It’s never reached that point you’d wanted, not until much later.

He was humping himself into your couch cushions, panting and licking at you like he hadn’t eaten in days. His fingers were moving, searching, but when he’d ventured a little farther in, pushed up to scale that thick trigger finger — you’d shot up into an arch that scared his dumbass half to death.

“What?! What the fuck did I do?” Stubble clad face shining with your essence, brown eyes blown to hell, mossy shards laying about in the abyss of the midnight black pupils, he stared, chest heaving in the simple black, tight t-shirt. His uniform attire discarded, with the exception of his pants, boots, and top.

Your answer was to shove his head back down, tugging at the roots, nails clawing at his scalp. Words followed momentarily. “Your finger. Don’t you dare move it, Tillman! Add the other one and curl —“

“Curl? Am I spelling something out, I don’t get it —“ His hand had started to reach for the vape on his tighter fitting pocket, spare set of digits attempting to adjust.

“If you reach for that disgusting ass vape, I swear I will leave you with balls so blue that you’ll lose all ability to function for the rest of the day!” You cut in.

When he’s not occupied with your pussy, of course the idiot wants that gross ass thing. He quickly calmed himself and did as told.

You weren’t aware that he possessed it within him to make your thighs shake or your eyes roll back this much. And as you began to hear the wetness increase between your legs drastically, you smirked and used one hand to drag his spare to your breast, your thighs tightening to hold him and that mouth in place. “I’m gonna fucking soak you.” Was all you got out before one more stretching drag of his fingers over that spot and swipe of his tongue against your clit brought your over the edge, and the translucent liquid spurted from your cunt.

His brown eyes had widened comically, but he regained, following your quick direction not to stop. And that’s when he did something unexpected… by far. He opened his mouth in the direction of your squirt, fucking his hips into the bed in a sloppier, messier direction, hand slapping and squeezing your tit in alternation, fingers not slowing down until you couldn’t take it anymore and you became spent. He came moments later, whining, biting into the meat of your inner thigh, ruining another pair of those Wal-Mart camouflage khakis.

“I thought that only happened in porn? Like a pussy party trick or something.” He’d said, marveling in the after math, blowing a cloud of that acidic fruit in your direction.

You rolled your eyes at his terminology. You didn’t want to let him know you hadn’t ever been able to do it before. After all, he’s still your student.

Yeah, you’re a damn good teacher…

[heartbreak-sandwich]

Summary: Getting caught speeding has its consequences. When you realize it's all fun and games for the both of you, you're willing to play along for the reward. A secret and spontaneous getaway in the woods -- it's the perfect place to work out your differences, don't you think? Words: 2.2k CW: Gator being kind of a dick, police encounter (pulled over for speeding), unprotected p/v sex, fem!reader, misogynistic overtones if you squint, minor oral fixation, technically public encounter. A/N: I'm sorry it has taken me so long to post! I really struggled through this one, but I've gotten it to a place where I'm okay with it. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you so much for reading my thing!!!

NSFW below the cut, 18+, MDNI as usual ✨

The air is thick with fog, and you let out a long sigh while you wait for the deputy to approach your driver’s side window. The red and blue lights flash in your rearview mirror, and you start to feel heavy with resentment for last night’s power outage that reset your alarm clock, causing you to wake up half an hour later than usual. You know you were speeding; you can’t deny that. You’re late for work, and this pitstop is the last thing you need right now.

You sigh with disappointment when you realize Gator Tillman is trudging through the roadside gravel to your window. Why did it have to be him?

“Mornin’, sunshine.” Gator grins smugly, a toothpick hanging half out of the side of his mouth. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I’m late for work,” you grumble, avoiding making eye contact with him.

You two have a history, if you can even call it that. Half-memories flash through your mind of the one night stand you had after a heart to heart and one too many at the saloon downtown. If you’re being totally honest with yourself, Jack Daniels and summer evenings still make you think of him, but you’d never say it out loud.

“Goin’ 69 in a 60, huh?” Gator holds back a giggle as he waits for your response.

“Really, Tillman?” Your eyes narrow at his juvenile comment, and his smile falls flat. His mood shifts in an instant, and you see him push a small button on his body worn camera followed by a series of small beeps as it powers on.

“Just so you’re aware, you’re being audio and video recorded. The reason I stopped you is you were going approximately 69 miles per hour in a 60 mile per hour zone, clearly marked. License and registration,” he demands coldly, holding out his hand expectantly. You search through your glovebox for the documents and hand them over, steeping in the icy silence surrounding you, thinking that maybe if you had just laughed at his joke, he would have let you go on your way.

Gator takes your documents, shuffling them as he looks each one over before speaking to you once more. “You sit tight. I’ll be right back.” You prop your elbow up against your door and rest your head in your hand, letting your mind wander as you try your best to be patient.

After just a few minutes, you see Gator sauntering your way again through your sideview mirror. The way he walks makes your stomach flutter as more flashes of your night together run through your train of thought – his teeth sinking into your plush thighs one by one, the hungry growl rumbling from deep within his chest as he tasted you, and the pathetic whimper he couldn’t hold back as he pushed his desperate, twitching cock into you for the first time –

“Here you go, Miss.” Your daydream is cut short by his drawl as he hands your papers back to you. “I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle now.” Your eyebrows shoot up in disbelief at his request. Why the hell is he doing this?

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulous.

“Am I speakin’ Chinese?” Gator was serious. He wasn’t budging. You’re kicking yourself on the inside at this point, knowing he was only doing this to get back at you for bruising his ego over his stupid joke. A pang of regret hits low in your chest as you realize telling him you were late for work was a mistake.

“Gator, please –”

“Don’t make this harder on yourself, sweetheart. Step on out now.” He looks far off into the fog as he waits for you to comply, but you don’t move. Taking the toothpick out from between his teeth, he points it at you, cocking his head to the side. “You don’t want me to ask again.”

“What is it you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” Gator chuckles, bending down to rest his forearms on your car, his head dipping into your window to meet your eyes. He hits the small button on his body cam once more, and you hear the device power down. “You know what I want,” he whispers softly, being careful not to let the rest of the world hear him. He leans in further until your faces are only inches apart. Your heartbeat hammers in your ears as you take in the scent of his musk mixed with remnants of fruity smoke, and you’re suddenly feeling lightheaded.

And just like that, you’re drowning in flashbacks again – the candy sweet taste of watermelon flavor on his tongue, his hair falling into his eyes as he fucked into you hard and slow, and the way he begged you to say his name as you came for him – and now you’re aching to play his games. You know exactly how to get him going. Softening your expression, you concede to the heat building in between your thighs, and despite the bone-cracking urge to mouth off to him, you try something new instead.

You decide to comply and let yourself out of your car, closing the door behind you, and you see a hint of shock flash over his features as he fights to keep his composure. He clears his throat.

“Place your hands on the hood of the vehicle,” Gator orders, and you follow his instruction dutifully. You palm the hood of your car, a seductive curve in your spine, and you can tell his resolve is starting to crumble with the way he’s eyeing you up and down, biting his bottom lip.

“Do you like me like this? Helpless?” Your eyes grow round and wide with innocence – the look of prey – and you notice Gator’s eyebrows raise just a fraction, but he ultimately maintains his poker face.

“Maybe,” he admits, his voice low and gravelly, dark chocolate eyes boring into yours. “Maybe I like having that kind of authority. Maybe I like knowing I could do whatever I wanted to you right now, and there isn’t anything you could do about it.” He approaches you slowly, each step making your anticipation burn brighter.

“Just maybe?”

“Okay,” he admits with a scoff. “You got me. I do like it.” He leans in closer to you so you can feel his breath on your lips. “I like you helpless because I like knowing that if you were to beg and pray, I would have the power to tell you no.” He lets the tips of his fingers brush up against your arm gently. “I like knowing that there would be nothing you could say or do to stop me from…” he trails off, a smirk playing on his lips as he licks his teeth.

“From what?”

Gator’s hands glide up to hold your wrists, removing your touch from the hood of your car. He pulls one of your hands to meet his jaw, grazing your soft skin over his stubble before pressing an almost chaste kiss to the tips of your fingers.

“From doing anything and everything I could dream of doing to a woman,” he murmurs, grinning against your skin. He grips both of your wrists firmly in front of him once more and pulls you against himself roughly as he makes his demand. “Now, ask me again, politely, what it is I want.”

“I think I already know,” you whisper against his lips playfully before he crashes them into yours, his strong arms circling your waist. He grips your asscheeks from underneath and pushes you up onto the hood of your car as he licks along your bottom lip, and you deepen the kiss. His tongue rolls over and over yours, lips locking perfectly together, and you can taste his familiar sweetness as he pushes his hips into you, grinding his already hard cock against your sweet spot over your jeans.

You moan into his mouth as his thrusts become even more needy, and your nails dig into his shoulder blades through his shirt. You’re not even thinking about the fact that anyone could drive by at any moment and see what’s happening – you’re too tangled up in each other to care. In a swift motion, Gator swipes at the bill of his hat and throws it to rest on the hood of the car beside you. His body weight presses into you before he finally breaks away, taking a deep breath and looking at you with wild eyes.

You suppress a smile as you take in the way he surveys you, soaking up his energy, loving every sick second of stroking his ego, giving him glimpses of the control he craves and getting your own physical satisfaction in return. You have him right where you want him, and he has no idea.

“Should we go somewhere?” Gator’s crooked smile makes your knees feel weak as his gaze flicks back and forth between your eyes and lips, and you can tell he’s doing his best to behave at least long enough to pose the question.

“Where?”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ground underneath the picnic blanket is hard and uneven, but you don’t even feel it anymore. The sun speckles everything around you through the trees, and you vaguely notice the rustling of leaves and twigs as the birds change branches above you every so often. Gator had taken the two of you in his cruiser just far enough up the nearest hill to escape the fog, and the nip in the air didn’t bother you at all as soon as he was on top of you, in between your legs, tactical gear still in place while he ran his hands over your body, his hungry eyes feasting on every curve.

He started slow and gentle, purring soft requests in between light touches everywhere you wanted them. It didn’t take you long to realize he was playing you the same way you were playing him, and now you’re here, rolling your hips languidly as you ride him, using the straps and pockets on the front of his vest for more leverage.

He’s a moaning mess underneath you, his blunt nails digging into the flesh of your thighs as he grips them to stay grounded in reality. You let yourself wonder for a split second if anyone has ever pleased him like this before – if he has ever been so loud, so free, so incessantly desperate for more of someone like he is right here, right now, with you.

You pick up your pace and lean back just enough to put yourself on full display for him, his length reaching the perfect angle inside of you, eliciting a filthy whine you couldn’t stifle if you tried. Your eyes brim with tears as the pleasure builds at your core like an explosion threatening to detonate at any moment. You reach down and pry one of Gator’s hands from your thigh, bringing his fingertips up to your kiss-swollen lips.

He grins through his own bliss as he realizes what you’re about to do. Almost unable to form words, he breathes, “I swear, you’re tryin’ to kill me, woman.” With a sinful smile, you graze two of his fingers past your lips and teeth along your tongue until they reach the back of your throat. Creating the perfect amount of suction, you move his fingers in and out of your mouth in time with your hips, your pussy flexing around his cock with the idea of being just a little bit more full of him.

A strangled half sob slips past Gator’s lips through his gritted teeth as his brows knit together, and his free hand pulls you down onto him harder and faster, the lewd sounds of flesh on flesh filling the space around you.

“Gonna cum. Don’t fuckin’ stop,” he demands, a string of expletives following just as the wave of your own climax crashes over you. Sordid sounds pour from your mouth as you release his fingers from its grasp, gushing and writhing on his cock in a way you know you’ll be ashamed to relive after this.

You feel a bruising grip on your thighs as he holds you down, burying himself up to the hilt in your soaked pussy while his hips buck and spasm against his will.

“Gonna fill you up so good,” he growls just before you feel a hot rush inside of you, his thick release coating your walls in bursts as his mouth falls open and his eyes roll back, his fingertips clawing into your skin, holding on for dear life.

Coming down from your high, you use your hands on his chest to steady yourself, resting your weight on your knees as you both catch your breath. The sounds of the woods in the background become louder again as you take in your surroundings.

“Damn,” Gator breathes, letting out a sigh and a small chuckle.

“Been a while,” you muse, a smirk playing on your lips as your eyes meet his once again.

“Sure has,” he agrees. “Can’t keep me waitin’ like that again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you promise with a cheeky wink.

tagging: @mrprettywhenhecries @b1tchywheeler @stevesxyellowxsweater @atinyliliflower @darleenjade @floredaqueen - ily guys, thank u for your encouragement and love, it means the world to meeeee!!! 💕

[hotwritergf]

Ok… I would like a gator tillman smut like maybe he has been away for awhile because Roy asked him to take care of something and when he comes back all he wants it’s reader but he’s not only f*cking reader but makes love to reader… idk something like that

Far too long / Gator Tillman- Fargo / One Shot / Smut

CW- smut, the term daddy is used, overstimulation, squirting, fingering, p in v, porn with a slight plot, established relationship, x reader.

“Been a while huh princess? Daddy has to work, you know that right? Daddy works to keep those hands of yours soft and manicured, while mine are dirty and calloused. Y’like that though don’t you? My hands all rough, rubbing against this pretty little pussy. Look at her, she’s crying out for me. Your little princess brain is leaking out of her.” Gator teases, he rubs his middle finger through your slit. Separating your folds and zeroing over your clit. Your breath hitches as he begins to curl his fingers inside of you, his fingertips grazing your g-spot every time he pumps them into you.

“Please.. No more. No more teasing. Want you. Please.” You’re begging him, he’s been away for little over two months, some bullshit that Roy had sent him away to take care of. You weren’t interested in his work, you learnt a long time ago to ask no questions. Ignorance is bliss. But your body aches for him, your head full of nothing but Gator Gator Gator. Your clit practically throbbing his name in morse code. He knows just how to tease you, having dated you for so long he knew your weak spots, how to melt that mind of yours.

“See, any other time, Daddy would tell you to be patient. But fuck. Babe, I need to be inside you. Been away far too long. Never again. I’ll work from fucking home and dad can just fucking like it.” He spits his words out like venom on his tongue. You knew he was lying, as much as you loved him, he could never stand up to his father. That’s a problem for another day, you hum as he rubs his dick against your slit. Your pussy acting as all the lubricant you could ever need, leaving his length slick and wet. Ready for you.

With his first thrust inside you, you’re putty in his hands. Your breath hitches as his cock hits your g-spot, violating the area until all you can think about is how good it feels. Nobody has ever fucked you so good.

“My girl. My fuckin’ girl. Missed you so much. Not just this ass of yours either. Missed your love.” Gator groans as he gently slaps your ass, leaning forward to rub your clit. It’s almost too much, the praise and the feeling of his fingers kissing your hypersensitive clit.

“Daddy. Missed you too. Love you. Love how you make me feel, love you.” You manage to get those words out in-between moans, your eyes rolling into the back of your head with every movement he makes deeper inside you. You’re convinced you can feel him in your stomach.

“Love’ya too- Gonna fill you up so good baby.” His words tease you, all your thoughts muddle up into one, Gator. Gator and how he feels, fucking the moans out of your mouth. Gator and how he’s over-stimulating both your clit and your g-spot at once. Gator and how he’s still wearing that shit eating smirk on his face, knowing how much it gets to you. All you want in your life is Gator.

Your orgasm builds in the pit of your stomach, the familiar feeling rising higher and higher. You clench around Gator’s cock. Almost trapping him into cumming inside you as you come undone yourself.

“Close.. so close. Please.” You whimper, your face buried in the pillows of your shared bed as you desperately dribble saliva from your mouth onto the sheets. He picks up the pace, not wanting to waste any more time. He just wants you. He wants to make you feel incredible. And that he does, when your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. Gushing over his cock as your tormented clit becomes even more sensitive after cumming. He doesn’t stop fucking you, he pounds into your hole faster and harder than before. It’s all too much for your little body to handle and he knows that. You can’t hold it any longer, your pussy squirting over your boyfriend and the bed.

Soft groans come from behind you as Gator ruts. Wiping the sweat from his brow and pulling out of you, ropes of cum still dripping from cock and dribbling out of your abused cunt.

Gator wipes the mess from your body and his, ripping the soiled sheets off the bed as you both collapse on the mattress in each other’s embrace.

“Love you.” He whispers against your cheek before planting a gentle kiss through panted breaths. “Love you too.” Your eyes still tightly shut, as if opening them would make the moment just a dream. You squeeze his arm a little, needing something to grip onto as you crash back from ecstasy to reality. The pair of you lay there, breathing each other in, not wanting to move a muscle. Roy better not send him away for this long ever again.

[kittyoncescribbled]

Trying to get back into my writing groove! I'm accepting requests for:

Stranger Things: Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson;

One Piece: Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Shanks, Mihawk;

Fargo: Gator.

Blurbs, imagines, one shots... Send them my way!

[gggoldfinch]

You’re an Angel (I’m a Dog)

Fargo || Ole Munch x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 18,830

When an odd man takes up residence in your spare bedroom and inadvertently establishes himself as your tall and brooding guest, you can’t help but feel a growing affection for him and his quirky ways. Likewise, the man can’t wrap his head around your unlikely kindness and predilection to care for him. You're both left trying to navigate the confusing, choppy waters of blossoming feelings and forgiveness, while avoiding the currents of the harsh outside world.

Here is my humble contribution to yet another tragically small fandom. Idk what happened in my brain for me to be able to write this but I'm not complaining. It’s my sappiest and most domestic work yet I think.

[stardancerluv]

The Past Follows Like Your Shadow

Part 3

Summary: The pain still lingers.

Notes/Warning: Implied dom!Gator, dated/sexist views of marriage…sex.

Bullying behavior, hitting someone…

Coming soon…Gator Tillman smut

❤️s, reblogs, feedback are all welcome! Wanna be tagged please ask!

Kurrrrplop!

You distantly saw something fall onto your friend’s plate before a scream ripped from him.

Ahhhhh!!!

“Gator? What’s the…?“ Your voice trailed off as you watched him fall and scramble from the picnic bench you both shared.

Moving quickly he was getting up and dusting himself.

“Are you ok?” You whispered.

Nodding he dusted himself off. You quickly noticed him rub the tears that had flooded his eyes when he fell with the back of his hand, luckily before the three goons that always gave the two of you trouble ambled over. Inwardly, you groaned.

“You are such a wuss Gator, they seriously should have scaredy-cat;” The other two chuckled. “You are no gator if a frog scares you.” Said the one who always did the talking.

Gator stepped forward. “I am not wus.”

“You are and you know it.” The older practically brushed against him as he also stepped closer.

Gator you noticed didn’t move away.

You blinked and the taller kid’s yelp startled you. That’s when you realized Gator had punched him in the nose.

“Hey now what’s going on here?” The much larger figured cast a shadow over all of you. It was Roy, Gator’s father.

“Nothing.” You managed to get out.

“Oh really?” His eyes darted to you.

You nodded and swallowed, the man terrified you. You saw one of his hands formed a fist.

The bully spoke up. “Yes, we were just horsing around Mr. Tillman.”

His eyes narrowed on him as he took a hand away from his nose that had become bloodier. The boy looked as if he shrank.

Never had you been relieved that everyone feared Gator’s father.

Then he turned to his son. “Gator?”

Startled awake you fell off your sofa with a thud.

Blinking, you looked around confused. The lights were on. Even the ac gently blew. Seeing Gator, had derailed you. Coming home, you tore through the boxes. You organized things in a blur to distract yourself. Before you knew it, it had been too late to get on the phone to settle anything with your Great Aunt’s bill.

Tiring yourself out, you had thought a short nap would help. You felt like you were all over the place, you couldn’t ground yourself with one emotion. You had not expected seeing gator would do that.

There was another knock at the door. This one vaguely sounded more urgent. It was that, that had woke you up from your dream of the past. But who could it be. Her neighbor had already brought over far too much food.

You looked down at yourself and straightened your shorts and tank top. Mabel, would just have to deal with your attire. You swore these old women, your aunt included had an endless array of moomoos to wear. She most likely going to invite you over for dinner like she had last night.

It had grown stuffy while going through her belongings before you had decided to take a nap. You had not intended to take such a long one. It was now dark out.

Fixing your messy ponytail you reached for the knob on heavy door. It barely budged. Sighing, you ended up needing both hands, it finally creaked open.

You gasped. “Gator?” You looked around then him up and down. “What are you doing here?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “I had to make sure they put on your electricity. Are you going to let me in?”

You gestured around you. “You, you?”

He nodded. “Who else?”

“Well, I was going to get it taken care of but, got distracted.” Inwardly you sighed. Grimacing, you nodded. “Sure but the place is a mess but sure.”

You didn’t know what to say, as he walked past you. The whiff from his cologne was distinctly stronger, you wondered idly if he had applied more before dropping by.

“How did you know?”

He turned on his heel to face you with lopsided smile you’d never forget as much as you tried to forget him. “Had my suspicions, decided to follow my hunch.”

You glanced down before looking back at him. “Well, thank you.”

He nodded. “Like I said Tulip let me help you.”

“That was for my car.” Your tone had an edge.

You had not meant to be mean, well actually you don’t know how you felt. You still had not been prepared to see him. You had hoped to avoid him all together.

“Is there any heavy lifting that needs to be done?”

He broke the silence, shedding his sheriff’s jacket. You bit your bottom lip as you watched his trim body move under his thin t-shirt. It looked even better under the leather harness.

Turning, he ran a hand over the boxes. “What can I help you with first?”

“What about Mary Sue?”

All you could see was that little pixie, Mary Sue the good little girl at all the Sunday church picnics. Who everyone loved.

He shrugged. “She’s a good wifey. She knows I work hard.”

You don’t know why, you honestly thought you were strong enough for all this. But his words cut across you like a slap across your face.

Over the last six years bitterness replaced the pain since leaving all of this behind.

“Any kids?”

You didn’t want to get surprised if you ran into them at the market.

“She won’t take my seed.”

He coughed. You watched as the vape once again appeared from out of no where. He had always promised he would be different then his father. He would not be cold and cruel.

But right then, his father could have easily said the same sentence. If there was any liquor in the house you would have made yourself a drink.

“I mean we are having problems. Father, brings us to church to pray on it.” He chewed his bottom lip. “He refuses to let us adopt. We wants to see he if her sister can be of any help.”

“Ah, right. He would do that.”

You nodded, quickly replying. Nothing had changed, you pressed your lips together.

He stepped closer to you. His body heat came off him in waves. You shivered.

You barely caught him sliding his vape away into one of his several pockets but you did feel as one of his hands wrapped around your arm. His thumb idly caressed you. “Relax. Its just me.”

His touch scattered your thoughts. Then you remembered the pain. “I left to get away from you.” Fire grew in the pit of your stomach.

He squeezed your arm. “What happened wasn’t my choice. You never let me explain.”

“Would it have changed anything?”

“I don’t know. I was a kid. We both were.”

“Yeah, but I was the one humiliated. Painted as the town harlot trying to seduce the sheriff’s only son.”

“We both know the truth.”

“Nobody else did. Not even my family.”

He pulled you closer. You didn’t know why you let him. His cologne tickled your nose. Bringing more memories to the surface.

“I never stopped thinking of you.”

It was all you had ever wanted to hear. You melted momentarily at the words. But them it hurt.

He was married and had become the sheriff. While you, you only had your dead great aunt’s house and the childrens’ books you wrote and got published.

You wrenched your arm free.

“I doubt that.” You spat out. His face contorted before it smoothed once again. You couldn’t read his eyes. “Are you upset that she hasn’t been able to carry on the Tillman name by giving you a son?“

He reached out and wrapping an arm around your waist and brought you against him. You struggled.

“Let me go.”

“No, stop. I don’t want to tame you like I would a stallion.”

@delikaitxx

[stevesxyellowxsweater]

Nothing stays the same

PAIRING: Gator Tillman x fem!reader WC: over 2000 CW: MINORS DON'T INTERACT!! Forced kiss, calls her girl, Gator being an ass. That is about it. If I have missed anything please let me know! SUMMARY: Returning home is something you never wanted to do, but your brother is getting married so you have no choice. When you're pulled over, you find yourself face to face with your high school bully. Someone you hoped you'd never have to see again. AUTHOR NOTES: This has been in my head for a while, as long as it does well there will be a second part. A massive thank you to @entermxnson for everything she does for me, she's my biggest fan and the person I can count on most. Love you to pieces thank you for your constant support. Enjoy! Credit to @cafekitsune for the amazing divider.

You'd promised yourself that you'd never return here; you could feel your body tensing as you crossed past the welcome sign. You'd hated it here, countless bullying, torment, and an awful time. When you left for college, you promised you'd never come back. You promised that no matter what, you'd leave this life behind.

Your brother had other ideas.

He'd moved back after being made redundant, met a girl and fell in love. The usual cliche crap that you couldn't stand. So now here you were, returning to the place you hated the most, just to watch your brother get married.

Your music rumbled low as your eyes focused on the road ahead. You didn’t even notice how your knuckles had become white from gripping the wheel so hard. You didn't want to be here; you wanted to turn back, go home, maybe claim to be sick.

But Andrew would never forgive you.

Your music stopped, and the familiar ringtone of your cell filled the car. Reaching the button on your steering wheel, you answered.

“Hello?”

“Munchkin, where are you?”

Rolling your eyes as you heard your brother's awful nickname for you, you smiled.

“Hey Andy, I'm about fifteen minutes away.” 

“Great, I can't wait for you to meet Catherine. You're going to love her!”

You smiled. Andy had been saying that for months. You weren't sure, however.

“I can't wait.” 

A simple lie never hurt anyone. You thought to yourself as you carried on down the road. 

“Andy, I'm going to be a little longer.”

“Why? You okay?”

“I'm being pulled over.” 

The flashing lights behind you make you tense. You stare at them in your mirror for a moment.

“I'll see you soon.”

Hanging up the phone, you found somewhere to pull over to park. Maybe they'd seen New York plates and assumed theft. Leaning over, you found your license and registration. Sitting up, you looked out and cursed as you saw who it was.

Gator Tillman, he was a cop now? How fucking insane! Your high school bully now upholds the law. You cursed yourself as you watched him walk toward your car, that usual swagger he'd had since high school.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” He asked as he looked over your car, not even looking at you. You could see the gum in his mouth, a disgusting thing to see if you were honest.

“If it's because my car isn't from around here, it's cause I'm driving in to see family.”

He looks up at you, flashing his pearly whites in a charming smile. It sends shivers down your spine - just like how it used to when you were both teenagers. The hard truth was even though he was a bully, you had a crush on him. 

“You were speeding.”

“What? I was going forty-five.”

“The limit is 30. Got changed about six months ago.”

Fuck, you'd been speeding and caught. That was the last thing you fucking wanted right now. You just wanted to get to your parents' place, was that too much to ask?

“License and registration please.”

Swallowing hard, you bit your lip and watched him. He glanced between the card and you.

“Step out of the car. Please, Ma'am.”

Opening the door, you climbed out and looked at him. You watch his eyes scanning your body as he bites his lip. He didn’t recognise you. You'd changed a lot since high school. You think the term was glowed up. You'd changed, but not Gator. He looked the same.

He casually leans against the side of your car and crosses his arms over his chest as if taking his sweet time with this traffic stop, like it's no big deal at all. 

With deliberate slowness, he reaches into your car and takes the keys. 

“Wouldn't want you running off now, would we?” He smirks, that damn annoying but knee-weakening smirk that awakens the butterflies inside you.

"I'm afraid I need you to take a sobriety test." His eyes lock onto yours as they narrow slightly; it feels more like an accusation than a request. The last thing you want to do right now is take a Damn test to prove you're sober before midday. 

“Really? You think I'm drunk?” You questioned needing him to clarify it.

“It's routine, Ma'am.” 

You watch him taking out his little black book and opening it to jot down things. 

He lazily pushes himself off your vehicle and steps closer to you. The space between you narrows, and you find yourself stepping back.

"Now let's see here... You were going 45 miles per hour in a 30-mile-per-hour zone."

With that seemingly innocent statement comes an undercurrent of satisfaction in his voice - almost like he'd been waiting for this moment to show you up all these years since you left school. 

As if sensing your discomfort with being so close together, he begins walking around the front of the car towards where his cruiser is parked close.

The air between you feels tense; every move is made deliberately aware of each other's presence. For just a second, there's a flash of recognition in Gator's eyes before it disappears once more behind his slicked-back hairline, leaving nothing but speculation on what might have been running through the devious little brain cells of his at any given point during this encounter thus far.

“Speeding, and a sobriety test. It's going to be one hefty fine." Gator chuckles as he opens the back door of his patrol car and climbs in. He looks at you over the vehicle, a smirk playing on his lips as if daring you to say something smart-assed back.

As you stand there fuming under the glow of the morning sun that seems far too bright suddenly, Gator leans forward slightly in his seat before reaching down towards what appears to be a laptop. With deft fingers, he begins typing away at its keyboard - presumably logging your infraction into some sort of system for later processing or review by higher-ups within the department.

Despite yourself, you can't help but watch him mesmerised almost against your will by how effortlessly this charming snake slithers through life without regard for others around him. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once - much like everything else about being pulled over by Officer Gator.

As if sensing your growing unease, Gator finally looks up from his work on the laptop and locks eyes with you again. There's an almost predatory glint in those eyes now - like he knows what sort of thoughts are running through your head, and he likes it.

"Well," He draws out slowly, leaning back into his seat with a lazy shrug. "What do we have here? Someone could use a little lesson on behaving behind the wheel." A wicked grin spreads across his face as he tilts his head slightly towards yours, inviting further conversation or maybe something more. Depending on just how far you're willing to go with this whole getting out of a ticket.

“Can we get on with this, please?” You ask as you sink your hands into your pockets and look at him. 

Gator let out a sigh; he was going to have to work harder for you. He usually managed to get girls into the back of his car, for head or a fuck.

“Sure,” Gator grumbled as he climbed out of the car. 

Grabbing his kit, he walked over. There was a look in his eyes as he set up the machine to take your alcohol level. He looked almost disappointed as he put the tube in it. 

“Blow on the beep, please.” 

Holding it up, he studied your lips. His mind wondered how it would feel to have your mouth around his cock instead of the plastic tube that you had taken into your mouth. The look in his eyes was more predatory, the ideas running through his head getting increasingly erotic as he watched you.

You waited for the beep and blew until the second beep. Removing your mouth, you folded your arms and waited for the reading. 

“Alright, it's clear.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes; it was frustrating. You felt like Gator was just doing it to be an asshole.

“Shocker.” You muttered to yourself as you watched him taking the tube from the machine and putting the whole thing back in his car.

“Look, can I just have my ticket? So I can be on my way?” 

Gator adjusted his belt and walked toward you; there was a look in his eyes that you couldn't quite explain. You watched him as he placed his hands on either side against your car. 

"Oh, come on now," Gator protests with a head shake. "That's no way to end this chance encounter."

Before you can say another word, he's closed the space between you, that sly grin still plastered across those lips like they were made for each other or something equally as cheesy. 

As he reaches for your door, he leans in close enough so your faces are almost touching and whispers into your ear: "Maybe I could make it up to you by giving you something else instead?" 

The warmth of his breath sends shivers down your spine. His words echo dark desires deep within yourself that you thought long buried under years upon years of pain and heartache inflicted by none other than Officer Gator Tillman himself back when everyone called him 'Daddy'.

“Ticket would be fine.” You manage to say, your eyes locked onto his as you swallow hard.

"Ticket?" Gator's eyebrows shoot up in surprise before he chuckles softly to himself. "Look, I know who you are, and you have changed for the better." he shakes his head again with a bemused smile playing at the corners of those full lips. "The past is just that. That was then, this is now. Let us not waste it, yeah?."

Without another word, he straightens back up and steps away from your car door - leaving you feeling strangely vulnerable out here, alone. There hadn’t been a single car pass since he stopped you, and you had a feeling there wouldn’t be anytime soon. Sensing this shift in power dynamics between them, something dark and predatory stirs deep within him. An almost primal instinct takes over, as it often does when faced with perceived weakness or fear. 

Time seems to stand still as their gazes lock onto each other's. It’s the predator versus the prey, sizing up their opponent; which will run first? Then suddenly - without warning - everything changes once more.

“I will be on my way, if you aren’t issuing a ticket. I have things to do.” There was almost a cocky undertone to your voice, one that Gator picked up on and caused his expression to turn dark. 

"Now hold on just a damn minute," Gator's voice booms across the quiet country road as he stomps towards you again. There is an undeniable anger simmering beneath the surface. Gator almost can't believe what he's hearing.

Up close and personal once again, his hot breath against your cheek as he leans in. He’s so close your noses are practically touching. His gaze bores into yours with such intensity that it feels almost like he's trying to crawl inside your head- seeking some dark secret or hidden desire buried deep within your soulful eyes.

“What exactly is your problem here? So you know who I am. Does that mean I owe you something? No, It doesn’t. I owe you nothing, Gator! You said no ticket. So, I will be on my way. Now move.” 

"You think this is some kind of game?" Gator snarls, the anger in his voice finally boiling over into something primal and raw. There he was, the snotty little teen you remembered from high school. The one that made your life a living hell. 

"Well, let me tell you something,” he growls lowly, dragging his hand through his slicked-back hair in frustration. “You might’ve gone away, become something fancy stuck-up piece of shit, but here in this town, you’ll always be nothing!”

Before you can say another word, those full lips are pressed hard against yours - he forces his tongue into your mouth. He tastes you like he’s been starving for years. There's an almost savage intensity to this, almost like he’s unleashing everything that he’s been holding onto for years.,

Your hands managed to move and shoved him back hard, almost causing him to fall over. You looked with irritation and anger in your eyes. “I swear to God, Gator if you weren’t a damn cop! I’d be kneeing you in the balls!”

"Is that a fact?" Gator smirks as he leans back against the hood of your car, his gaze never once leaving yours. The predator inside him comes to play in his smile, like he knows exactly what buttons to push to get you where he wants - which is right there underneath him for all eternity.

He can sense the power shift, his prey weakened by a single kiss. Those full lips part into a soft grin once more/ His fingers run along the hood of your car, his eyes still locked on you. 

"Look," he said, closing in on you. His arm leaned on the top of the car as he looked at you. 

"Maybe we could make a deal here? I let you go without a ticket, and maybe..." He pauses deliberately, letting the tension build up inside both of you reach breaking point before finally saying: "...maybe next time things will be different."

“There will not be a next time officer.” You assure him.  

"Oh really?" Gator raises an eyebrow in disbelief as he straightens back up once more. "We'll just have to see about that, won't we?" 

Without another word, he turns around and walks back over to the driver's side door of his patrol car - leaving you alone, feeling strangely exhilarated and nervous despite (or perhaps because of) everything that just happened between you two. 

As he climbs back into the vehicle, a mischievous glint appears in those dark eyes. It's almost like he knows something about this town or its secrets that maybe even YOU don't yet... And for now, it seems Officer Gator Tillman will continue slithering through life without regard for others around him while you watch on helplessly from afar.

[gerhardtz]

One Hour Ahead of the Posse - Fargo Series 2 AU

Rye is injured and on the run. His conversation with Judge Mundt couldn't have gone any worse... and in his inebriated state, he decided to flee the scene on foot – leaving his car behind. It's not a question of *if* he's found out, but when.

Dipping my toes back into fanfiction for the first time in... what, like 2 or 3 years? I have no idea how to advertise fics on Tumblr so please bear with me 😭

This is an AU for Fargo series 2, where Rye's car accident wasn't quite as serious. Maybe Peggy braked sooner or was going slower. It mainly follows Rye and delves into what might have happened between the Gerhardts and Kansas City if Rye had been in the picture.

The next chapter is currently in the works! I'm not sure when it'll be done but rest assured I am not planning on abandoning it. Probably. I also have a crossover AU planned that I'm going to be co-writing with @pastelspindash if anyone's interested in that.

I didn't post about this sooner because I wasn't sure if i wanted to connect my AO3 to here, but I've decided fuck it. I'm the Rye Guy on Tumblr dot com it's my duty to share my writing here, too.

[spookysteddie]

Tillmans Girl

18+ Minors DNI

cw: stripper reader, drinking, drug mention, murder mention, oral (m receiving), unprotected penetrative sex, pet names, slight choking, hair pulling, exhibitionism, biting. (Let me know if I missed anything)

wc: 3.9k

A/n: this is based off of the song Gibson Girl by Ethel Cain (pre warned about this here) and I need to make it very clear that this is LOOSELY based off of the song. It’s more about how I feel while listening to it and how I fit the reader and Gator into this. I also let Gator have some friends because he needs them for the story purpose. I love the concept I came up with and I hope you do too! 

A/N 2: friendly reminder this is fiction and half the shit in here wouldn't happen IRL. ❤️

… 

He was here again. 

Sitting in his usual spot, surrounded by his friends and drinking shit beer. And he’s watching you, like he always does. Like he has since he first came in here a little over a year ago, dressed in his sheriff's uniform to investigate a murder. 

And now, he’s here every Saturday, just watching. He isn’t the first guy to come to this club for you. He isn’t even the tenth. But he doesn’t speak to you like the others do, not more than he needs to and typically you’re the one to instigate the conversation. 

Gator Tillman has a pull to him, like he’s the sun and you're a planet in his orbit. You don’t know why he makes you feel the way he does, like you need to touch him. Every time you meet his eyes, he’s already looking back at you. It is unnerving but yet you look forward to Saturday nights. Look forward to the attention (and money) he gives you. 

Even an hour outside his home town everyone knows who he is, of course they do, half their parents voted for his father. Plus, you’ve all heard the stories about the Tillmans. You knew what you were dealing with when he came in. The other girls are afraid of him, though. They’re sure to make his and his friends drinks correctly and letting them all break a few rules, like touching the dancers. But not you. Gator Tillman didn’t scare you like he should, mainly intrigued you. It’s been a year of this cat and mouse game. You the cat, him the mouse, toying with him in the hopes he’ll ask for more time with you. 

His friends do get dances, most of them picking a new girl every week and tipping them well. But not Gator. The girls have tried to get him to buy dances from them, but he always brushes them off. All while staring at you. You’d never offered, again letting him come to you. But you also didn’t do private dances. You made most of your money on the stage, not really feeling like killing someone if they got handsy with you. 

Tonight though, was different. 

You could feel it in the air the second you saw him. The charge was there as usual, but when you handed him a drink after your stage time, he spoke to you. 

His voice was like silk as he spoke, pushing his dark sunglasses onto the back of his hat. It was night time so he kind of looked like a douchebag with them on. He didn’t care. He was a Tillman, just as cold blooded as his father, if not more. Obsessed with his power and the way people fell at his feet, gave him whatever he wanted. 

But not you. 

Never you. 

“You look very nice in red, sweetheart.” It takes you by surprise but you do well to not show it, a practiced mask. Never has he spoken to you for more than a drink order. 

You did, however, look nice in red. But it was rare you wore it because you didn’t need to give the men more reasons to want to touch you. You made plenty of money in any other color. Red, also was the color of the invisible blood that stains your fingers. The blood you can’t get off no matter how hard you try.

You put on your prettiest smile, “that’s very sweet of you.” 

A small smile tugs at his lips. He’s fucking beautiful and it’s painful to look at him, actually. 

“You do dances?” The question takes you by surprise because, like you said, he doesn’t get dances from the girls. He just drinks and tips very well. 

You cover it well, “only for you.” 

It’s not a lie. You would do dances just for him, any reason to get him closer. To get him alone. 

He nods, “how much?”

You smirk, “$350.” That was way more than the other girls charge. It’s North Dakota, it’s rare the men here can afford that. 

But he can. 

“Deal.” You watch as he pulls the money from his pocket, counting it out and handing it to you. 

You count it again just to be sure, slipping it in your top, “follow me, pretty boy.” 

He takes his drink and downs it before getting up and following you. He walks with confidence but you know better. He’s nervous, you can see it in the slight tremor of his hand. You decide you’ll let him break the rules, but not because he’s Roy Tillmans son. 

No, it’s because you have wondered for months what his hands feel like on your skin. You’ve also wondered what it would be like to get him in your bed; what he sounds like when he fucks. You know he’s more than experienced considering people like to talk. But you want to see it for yourself. You need to experience it for yourself. 

You take him to one of the private rooms, the red room considering he likes you in red. He sits down tentatively, running his hands down his jeans. He’s so hot when he’s nervous. It makes you smile as you shut and lock the door. 

The music is a little quieter in here, the small knob on the wall allowing you to turn it higher or lower. Some of the girls don’t like these rooms, scared they’ll get hurt by the men they bring in here. It’s understandable, most opting to give them in the room where extra security is.

But Gator would never hurt you. 

“Surprised you asked for this, pretty boy.” 

He takes a deep breath and leans back, “like I said, look nice in red.” 

You slowly walk over, standing between his spread legs, “too kind to me, Tillman.” 

He balls his fists as he tries to respect the law of not touching strippers. But Gator was the law, he could do whatever he wanted. His father would get him out of any shit he gets himself into. Either way, you’d let him touch you in any way he wants. 

You bend at the waist, running your hands up his thighs. His breath hitches a little and it makes your stomach flip with satisfaction. He’s affected by you, you’ve known this for a while. But the verbal confirmation makes your head spin. 

Your hands slide over his stomach and onto his shoulders, pushing off his black leather jacket. “Let’s take this off and get comfortable, yeah?” He lets you take it off and toss it to the side. His black shirt grips his body perfectly, showing off his muscular build. 

You stand back up to your full height, turning the music up just slightly, enough for you to hear him if he decides to speak to you. And then you go back to him, dipping low and letting him run his eyes all over you. For once it makes you feel sexy. Maybe it’s because Gator isn’t an animal. He’s respectful. Or, well, as respectful as one can be in a place like this. 

You look up at him through long lashes as you straddle his hips, being careful not to let your centers touch. You don’t want to force anything on him, scare him away. But you do run your hands up his arms, putting his hands on your hips. 

“Can touch me. You’re the exception to that rule,” you giggle and wink at him. 

You can see his confidence starting to rise. Typical man who just wants to feel special. Gator, though, deserves to feel special. You didn’t grow up with him, between living one town over and your parents opting to send you to private school. But people talk. You know about the shit his dad does, how he uses religion and intimidation to keep his son in line. It was sick. 

He grips your hips, guiding you down to grind against him. He’s hard, of course he’s hard, all of them are. They can try all they want but their cocks have a mind of their own. You can tell he’s worried about it, about how you’ll feel. You don’t care. You never care. In fact, the friction on his hard cock on your clit feels… nice. 

“Why am I the exception?” 

You grin down at him, hands by his head on the couch, “use your big boy brain and think about it.” 

He laughs a little, “cause you’re afraid of me?” 

That makes you throw your head back and laugh hard, “oh, pretty boy, neither you or your daddy scare me. In fact, I’d be more than happy if you put me in cuffs.” 

He’s taken by surprise at your admission, shuddering a little, “should be ‘fraid of me.” 

You stand, turning the lights a little lower, “it’s you who should be afraid of me.” 

You can still see him, even in the dim, red lights. Fuck he was so beautiful. You start back your dance, his eyes still looking over your body. 

“I ain’t afraid of anything, angel.” 

You know that’s a lie. He’s terrified of his daddy, and everyone is afraid of death. But you brush it off, getting so close to him you could kiss him if you wanted. And you do, but you won’t let him know that. Not yet. 

“You, Gator Tillman, are the exception because everyone here thinks you’re so pretty.” 

He raises a brow, “pretty? Not the word that should be used f’me.” 

You shrug, “agree to disagree.” 

“I was told ya don’t do dances,” his voice is gravely and you know he’s doing everything he can to not kiss you. “Decided to ask anyway.” 

You pull back settling in his lap, not dancing anymore, “I don’t, but like I said, you’re the exception.” 

He hums, letting his hand run up your thigh, “I’m honored. Prettiest girl in this building.” 

“Flattery, Tillman, won’t get you much round here.” 

He smirks, the look making you want to kiss him just a little more, “will get me the ability to take ya home?” 

You think the shots he took some time ago are finally hitting him. Or he’s snorted some cocaine and it’s just hitting him. Probably the former. 

“M’not supposed to go home with the customers. Sorry, pretty boy.” 

Not a lie. You aren’t supposed to go home with the men here, both for fear of being murdered and because it can cause issues for the owner. The girls too, of course. God forbid you date a patron and then break up. It’s just awkward for everyone here. 

His hand slides further up your leg, resting right under the crease of your ass. Men have been killed for touching you there without asking. But this time it doesn’t make your blood boil like it should. It makes your stomach flip and your heart race. 

“I’m the law, baby. The rules don’t apply to me,” he’s looking up at you with big brown eyes, though they look black in this light. 

The rules don’t apply to him, you told him as such earlier. You remind him as such and he squeezes your hip. You swallow the squeak that threatens to come out, instead moving to straddle him once again. 

“Come on, baby, we’ve been playing this game for a year. Come home with me.” 

You swallow. You would be a liar if you said you didn’t want to go home with him. To let him get the rest of your clothes off and fuck you. For him to slide his cock down your throat while you’re on your knees. 

You know it would feel good. You know you’d enjoy whatever he threw at you, enjoying men who are rough but respectful. And by the feel of the hardness nestled on your clothed core, he could throw a lot at you. 

You can feel your mouth water at the idea of what he looks like under his pants. But he’s going to have to work harder if he wants you to go home with him. 

“Gonna take more than that to get me in your bed, Gator.” 

He thinks, hands roaming to grab the fat of your ass, “I could give you everything, angel. Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You giggle a little, “yeah? Anything?” 

He nods, licking his lips, “anything. I’d give you anything. Could treat you real nice.” 

“How do you know I don’t already have someone treating me real nice? Hmm? Bold of you to assume I’m single,” you raise a brow at him. You’re lying through your teeth, making him work for it. 

“Trust me, baby, I know you’re single.” His eyes fall from yours to your lips and back. 

You get a little closer, his scent masculine and woodsy, “doing research on me?” 

That should be creepy, it should result in a knife in his neck (it might’ve happened a time or two..) but not with him. However, you know why he did the research. He had to after the murder last year, to rule you out as a suspect. 

“I did. So, you can’t lie ya way out of it. Lemme treat you right, pretty angel.” 

“I’m no angel,” your voice is just above a whisper, enough for him to hear you. 

He laughs, “agree to disagree.” 

He slides his hands to your hips, squeezing gently. 

“And if I say yes to goin’ home with you? Will you hurt me?” 

“No more than you ask me to.” 

You decide you can’t take it anymore, needing him too much. You’ll curse yourself later for folding too easily. You close the gap, a whole year of the chase coming to a head. The second your lips connect with his you feel like you’re on fire. He kisses you softly, nervously and it isn’t till your tongue begs for entrance into his mouth, that he kisses you harder. 

His hands are all over you, running up your sides and letting his fingers tangle in your hair. You rock your hips absentmindedly, needing more friction. 

Gators lips move down your throat, kissing and nipping at the skin and making you moan. He smirks against you and gently lips his hips to add more pressure. Fucking asshole. You grab his face, pulling him back to your mouth, your tongue licking into his mouth. 

He pulls back first, breathless, “I need you. I need to be inside you.”

Your stomach flips again because you love when a man begs for you. Especially men in powerful positions. You feel his confession right in your core. 

“A Tillman begging? What would your daddy say about this?” You’d never say a word to his daddy about this, of course. Roy Tillman can kiss your ass. 

Gator, of course, also knows this, “I don’t care what he’d say. He doesn’t need to know what I do when I’m off work.” 

You smirk, you’re more than willing to let him inside you. But first, you needed to see what you were working with. You slither to your knees, looking up at him, “this okay?” 

He nods, only giving you a verbal answer once you lift your brows, “yes. Please.” 

Your hands move to his belt, unbuckling it and popping the button of his jeans. You can feel his cock jump in his pants and you swallow down a giggle. It’s cute how excited he is actually. You’d be a liar to say you aren’t excited. It’s been a while since you had sex with someone and it’ll be the first time you’ve fucked someone at your job. You’re glad there are no cameras in this room because you’d absolutely get fired. 

You pull his jeans and boxers down till they puddle at his feet, allowing his cock to spring free. You can’t contain your reaction to the sight of his cock. He’s huge, his cock thick and has a slight curve. It’s beautiful and you feel dumb admitting that to yourself. It’s not the first you’ve seen but it’s definitely the prettiest you’ve seen. 

“Wow…” you whisper it but you know he heard you by the smile that spreads across his face. 

“You like it?” He’s cocky and it’s clear you aren’t the first girl to react this way. 

You just nod, gently gripping it in your hand. The weight of it makes your mouth fill with spit. You lean forward, licking a long stripe up it. He lets out a long moan, his head falling back against the couch. 

You smirk to yourself before taking him into your mouth. You work slow, making sure your throat is relaxed. You bob your head slowly, looking up at him as you work and for the first time he’s not looking back at you. He looks so pretty like this, head thrown back, hands balled into fists. 

“Fuck… this is s-so much better than I imagined,” his voice coming out rough and strained. 

You just moan against him, bobbing your head a little faster and taking him a little deeper. He hits the back of your throat and his head snaps down to you. The second your eyes meet his cock jumps in your throat, making you gag slightly. 

“Ah! That’s it, baby,” his hands fall into your hair, pulling and pushing you into his cock. 

You can’t help the moans that leave you from the pain of his hands in your hair. You know your cunt is soaked, your clit throbbing. So, you take him deep and hold him there, letting spit drool from your mouth and onto what you can’t fit in your mouth before pulling off of him. You lick your lips as you stand and straddle him. 

“How bad do you want to fuck me?” You kiss him lightly, just a taste. 

He takes a shaky breath, “s-so bad. Been thinking about it since the first time we met.” 

You pull your panties to the side, settling down so he’s resting against you. The head of his cock bumps your clit the second to start to rock your hips. The friction feels incredible against your aching clit. 

You need more but you’re trying not to rush it. 

“Been thinking about being inside me for over a year huh? Such restraint you have, pretty boy.” 

He shakes his head, letting out a small grunt, “I-I didn’t. S’why m’ here every Saturday. Gotta get my fill of ya for the week.” 

“Yeah? You sound a little obsessed.” 

He nods, “j-just a little.” 

You sit up on your knees using your hand to steady his cock and look up at him, “you still want this? You can say no and it’ll be fine.” 

He shakes his head so fast, you’re worried he’s gonna get whiplash, “no! Please fuck me. Please. Need it so fuckin’ bad. B-but I didn’t bring a condom with me. I-I’m clean I swear. I-If that ain’t okay I’ll survive. But I really wanna fuck you.”

You kiss him softly, loving the consideration and to stop his rambling, “I’m more than clean and I’m on birth control. Is that okay? Still wanna continue. I do if you do.”

He lets out a breath and relaxes, “that’s fine. I promise.” 

It’s all the conformation you need before slowly sinking down on him. All you have inside you is the tip and already the burn hurts so good. Gators hands grip your hips, mouth falling open as he helps you sink down more. 

“Oh my god, Gator,” you feel like he’s in your throat and you don’t even have him all the way inside you. He’s everywhere all at once and you love every second of it. 

Gator pulls you down more and captures your lips in a deep kiss. And then, he thrusts up inside you, seating himself fully inside your tight pussy. The action pushes all the air from your lungs, making you pull back from the kiss. You decide then that if you died this way, you wouldn’t be pissed. 

Even if God decided to bitch about all the sins you’ve committed.

That is, if you even go to heaven. You doubt you will at this point. 

Whatever. 

Gator stays still, letting you adjust and letting you rest your head on his chest to catch your breath. It’s slow to come back but once it does, you lift yourself and slam yourself back down. 

“Fuck! Fuck!” He’s loud and you're glad the club is loud enough that no one can hear you. Not that you’re opposed to that, but again, people like to talk and you aren’t keen on ending up in an unmarked grave. Gators daddy would kill you if you spread rumors that make Gator look like the sinner he is. 

You do it again, finding a rhythm, “you like that, pretty boy?” 

You slide your hands into his hair, loosening the strands there with a hard tug. He groans, his hips bucking up and hitting against your cervix. You’ll probably be bruised there tomorrow but that’s not your issue at the moment. 

The curve of his cock hits your sweet spot perfectly, making you whine and ride him faster. 

“Uh-huh. S-so tight and warm and perfect,” he’s rambling but it’s cute. “D-didn’t think we’d ever do this.” 

You smile, pulling a little harder at his hair, strands falling loose from their usually gelled place. “Paid me a lot of money, baby. Gotta treat you special.” 

“I-isn’t that prostitution?” He pushes out a breathless laugh. 

You can’t stop the giggle that comes out of you either, “maybe. But only if we say it is. I was j-joking.” You lean forward, changing the angle to hit that spot a little harder, “dedication got you here. And of course you’re so pretty. Prettiest boy.” 

Gators hand slides from your waist and finds your clit with ease, thank god. He uses his thumb to draw small circles, making that coil grow tighter and tighter. 

“Keep calling me that and I’ll cum before you do. C-can’t have that.” He plants his feet and sets the pace. He fucks you hard and fast. It feels so fucking good and you know this isn’t the last time you’ll be doing this. 

Can someone get addicted to another's cock? 

Yes is the only right answer considering how all you can think about is Gators cock and chasing your orgasm. 

“Such a gen-gentleman, Gator.” 

“Only for you, angel. Only for you.” 

The band inside you snaps, your orgasm slamming into you hard.

You cry out, leaning forward to bite Gators shoulder and muffle your screams. That is what pushes Gator over the edge, emptying inside you. Thank god for birth control. You both deflate, him growing soft as your cunt spasms with aftershocks. 

Gator breaks the silence first, “gonna let me take you home and take care of you?” 

It makes you laugh but you do think about it, weigh the pros and cons. “If I agree, you can’t ever come back here again. S’a rule not to date our customers.” You sit up so you can see his face, judge his reaction. 

A slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face, “deal! Won’t need to see you here when you’re coming to sleep in my bed.” 

All you can do is laugh and kiss him, deciding this time, you won’t have to murder a man you dated. 

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

When you say you love Gator during sex and he cums immediately.

He’s working up his frenzied pace, normally slicked back hair in strands of disarray. He can’t quite meet your mouth, breaths jagged pants that smell like faded vape and chew. It’s disgusting, but it tastes like Gator… And you fucking love it. No one is speaking loudly, voices lying in fragments across pleaded whispers.

That is, until, you can no longer contain yourself. Nails digging into that ink wrapped around his bicep, every mole and freckle available to eye fuck, tracing your gaze right back up to meet his blown pupils - delicious amber shards scattered into an inky, enriching abyss. One of your hands slides off his back, cupping around his neck, cradling tightly when you say it, right as he’s pushing into a deep thrust.

“I love you, Gator,” you state, an emotional whine following your finality to the statement, breathless at how he’s fucking you. “I’m so in love with you.”

You wish you could capture his face on film within this very moment. His eyes go wide, his beautiful, kiss swollen mouth drops open, and his hips stutter, causing him to collapse his full weight onto you as he gives a long, belly deep, honey hot moan. He’s coming immediately, following your declaration, burying his face into your neck to stifle sniffling aftershocks. You hold him through it, your chest bursting with pride, cunt soaked with need, with his fucking seed. He always pulls out, but this time?

You don’t find it within yourself to care, and neither does he, apparently. You kiss his sweaty crown, the side of his face, simultaneously locking your arms around his heaving back. You aren’t expecting anything back, you just feel grateful that he knows now. It’s quiet, however, for a few moments, until you think he’s fallen asleep against your breasts. But Gator surprises you, lifting himself from his cocoon in your flesh.

His irises are still a mere ring, his thumbpad tracing your lips to part them, making him lean in to kiss you deeply, breathlessly. You can’t find anything to say upon spit slick lips parting, but you’ve already had your moment. It’s time for Gator to have his. With one nose nudge, he looks you square in the eyes, giving into saying something he’s never been able to say to another human being within his entire lifetime.

“I’ve never loved another person. But I fuckin’ know that I love you.”

[abbacoded]

You Suit Me . . . ~Chapter One

// Rabbi Milligan (Patrick Milligan) x *OC

*AU second daughter of Donatello Fadda

Summary: After the ‘double cross’ that ended the Yiddles family, Rabbi Milligan is taken in by Donatello Fadda and grows up with the Fadda family. While living in the Fadda household, Rabbi is befriended by Donatello Fadda’s youngest daughter, Noemi Fadda (AU OC). A romantic relationship develops.

Warnings: Some mentions of blood and gore

Note: Somewhat follows the progression of the show (Fargo, Season Four) but will take a hard AU turn eventually. Essentially, a ‘secretly dating’ troupe!

_

A quick visit with Loy Cannon, that’s what Rabbi had said and yet, Noemi Fadda waited with an apron tied around her waist in the Fadda family dinning room long after her father and the others were meant to return.

It was Sunday dinner and all guests—save for her mother and herself—were running late.

Her mother, Chianna Fadda, had resigned from waiting and took to her bedroom with a glass of wine. From Noemi’s speculation, Chianna Fadda did that a lot these days. Noemi suspected it had something to do with her youngest brother, Zirominu—or “Zero”—being sent to live with the Cannon family. Noemi considered her mother to be handling the separation from her son a lot better than she could have handled it. Noemi imagined carrying a baby for nine months, many sleepless nights and early mornings, raising a child, feeding it, watching it grow into a precious little boy and then, her father simply plucking that child from existence in your family home. Where does the love go? Noemi felt a sinking feeling in her chest whenever she thought about her baby brother and his current predicament—being forced to live with strangers all these months.

A pleasant distraction arrives in the form of someone entering through the back door near the kitchen. Rising from her seat, Noemi leaves the dinning room to go towards the clatter of the screen door. She finds Rabbi Milligan and “Satchel”—Loy Cannon’s youngest son—arriving home.

“Where were you?” Noemi exclaims. “Dinner is cold, mama’s upset!” Noemi looks towards the ceiling with her hands spread out. Though she gripes, no one hears. Rabbi Milligan is midway through instructing Satchel to go to his room and wait for him while he talks with Noemi alone.

The situation looked very serious. Any qualms Noemi possessed for being stood-up on a dinner she spent the majority of the day preparing flee when she watches Satchel leave and Rabbi look to her very gravely.

“What?” Noemi asks.

Though Rabbi feels the need for it, he refrains from touching her.

Instead, Rabbi gestures Noemi to come near him with a slow flit of his hand.

“We have ta’ talk,” gravelly voice to match that look he gave her.

Noemi approaches Rabbi as he pulls out a chair for her at a small two seater-table in the Fadda family kitchen. Taking the seat across from her, Rabbi rests his arms on the table as he begins, “there’s been’a accident.”

“What happened?” A hitch of concern in Noemi’s voice as she sits with Rabbi. The fear—the anxiety she felt made her feel like doing anything but sit. Her father traveled with quite the entourage of men and yet, only Satchel and Rabbi returned home. She squirms in her chair as Rabbi slowly licks his lips and prepares to tell her more.

“Your brother is fine, as is everyone else, but your father’s been admitted to the public hospital; he’s lost a’lot of blood, but ee’s stable. The doctor is keepin’ him a few days for observation.”

Noemi looks neither relieved or nor alarmed to hear all of this from Rabbi Milligan. Perplexity is her sole expression in the Irishman’s eyes.

“What kind of accident was dad in?” Noemi presses him. Hearing a statement like, ‘your father had lost a lot of blood,’ is no news to easily digest.

“Ah, yea.” Taking a breath to gather his words, “the car was at ‘n intersection near the school, some boys were playin’ with toy guns, one of them must’ve been a pellet gun.” Rabbi’s eyes shift from Noemi to his hands on the table, uneasy with the task of notifying the family of his boss and keeper. “The gun went off, hit your father in the backseat, ‘ee has a neck wound but ee’is being treated for it, like I said.”

Filled in at last, Noemi does not know how to respond to the news of her father’s ‘accident’.

While Noemi sits in a stunned silence, Rabbi finally does what he wanted to do before. He reaches across the table and collects Noemi’s hand; a rare move for him, considering his place beneath her in the household. “Would you be needin’ assistance in tellin’ your mother?”

Noemi Fadda had been preparing her family’s meals since she was old enough to turn on the stove all by herself. With cooking, came lots of cleaning and caring for the house, a role expected of her, especially as she was not yet married and out of the house like her sister, Naneeda. Noemi’s hand felt very cold and dry in Rabbi’s warm grasp.

Swallowing quietly to reanimate herself, lost in her thoughts as she was, Noemi straightens up in her seat, a kind of quiet excitement and exhilaration hits her when Rabbi—or ‘Patrick’—had taken her hand and held it.

Shaking her head, Noemi assures, “no, I can tell her.”

As Rabbi lets go of Noemi’s hand, Noemi rises from the table and takes a step past Rabbi when suddenly she stops and turns back to him.

Impulsiveness possesses her like a soft and lonely ghost as the young woman eases down onto Rabbi Milligan’s lap, sitting on him as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do.

Alarmed but resisting futilely, Rabbi wears a look of concern as he gathers Noemi’s slight shoulders in his hands and looks into his secret lover’s eyes, preparing to turn her away. He whispers an urgent reminder of their boundaries, “Nomi—“

Nomi—that was his nickname for her, something that started back when they were kids.

“—no one is here,” the young woman interjects in an urgent whisper and smiles as she wraps her arms around his neck. Tilting her head, Noemi Fadda kisses Rabbi Milligan.

The pair shares a romantic moment that soon melds to one of desperate comfort. They stole them, every chance they could get.

Rarely with a instant where it was just them two, Rabbi buries his face in the crook of Noemi’s neck as they embrace one another and hold each other for what feels like a blessed eternity, though it was only a few cherished seconds.

Patrick Milligan hugs Noemi like he has never been hugged before and maybe he hasn’t—not before her, at least.

Reality brings Noemi Fadda pushing herself back to her feet, straightening her dress and her apron.

Before she can leave the room, Rabbi gently catches her by the wrist. Carefully, he unknots the apron ties at the small of his lover’s back.

“Thank you,” Noemi whispers in elated gratitude, watching him from over her shoulder.

[eddielove]

Girl dinner

[dckweed]

NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

summary: in which gator tillman and his arranged bride figure out life and each other and what a real relationship means to them.

warnings: mentions and depictions of abuse, mentions of bruises, arranged marriages, romance, humor, dead parents, slow burn relationship (not completely but not not), basically we know the tillman men are asswipes so i 100% see Roy forcing gator into this kind of situation for money for his militia, eventual smut with kinks such as thigh riding, gun play, choking, spanking, lots of marking and possible spit play.

comment on this post to be added to the taglist for future parts!

The smell of cigar smoke hung thick in the air, the lighting dim in the dark office. You sat stiffly in a large leather chair, and across from you on the other side of the massive oak desk sat your step father, Boyd Augastine. He was a mean old man, and you had hoped in your time away at boarding school that he had graciously paid for, that he would have calmed down. That hope seemed to be more wishful than anything though, in fact, you thought he seemed meaner than the last time you had seen him at Christmas dinner.

“Boyd, please!” You begged, trying to fight back tears. You hated being home, if you could even call this massive estate that, it made you tense and irate, scared. You shake your head at the man in front of you, trying to remain as polite as you could lest you reap the repercussions. “You can’t make me marry that boy!” You say, tone as even as you could keep it. “Is this even legal?!”

He had at least let you finish speaking. “I can, and you will.” He sniffs, not even bothering to look up at you as he shuffled through some papers sitting in front of him. You assumed they were the documents pertaining to the horrid news you had just been given. “The Tillman boy is a fine young man, he’s strong and not entirely stupid, and his family is almost as powerful as me. You will marry him, and you will produce a male heir to take over both families when the time comes.” He says, finality in his tone and a hint of annoyance that you knew meant that the conversation needed to end before you wound up being hurt. “Lord knows i’m not about to leave my fortune to some half-witted emotional broads. You may not be my blood, but you are legally an Augastine, you will do your part.” You wince. “Unless of course, you’d rather one of the girls marry him when they come of age?”

You purse your lips, trying desperately to bite your tongue. He always knew exactly what to say to get you to do whatever he wanted, and you hated that you had no backbone sometimes. What were you supposed to do though? Your half sisters weren’t even in high school yet, they were mere babies still..they deserved to find their own happiness in life, with someone they actually loved..if you had to marry this boy for a few years and pop out a kid or two for them to be able to live their lives, just to satiate their father, then you would gladly do it. They didn’t need to take your place. Besides, it's not like divorce wasn’t a common thing amongst young married couples anyway.

He knows your answer before you’ve even opened your mouth to speak it and tosses his expensive fountain tipped pen across the desk. It lands with a thud and you pick it up with a trembling hand as he slides the documents towards you as well. “Your mother would be proud.” He says cooly, watching you scrawl your name across every highlighted area that needs signing. You wondered what the Tillman’s were receiving in return for this, they were already fairly well off from what you understood. Pretty much every man in their lineage had been sheriff of the godforsaken county, law ran in their blood, and it paid well too. But who's to say that they weren’t being paid handsomely for this?

You felt as if you had just signed away your soul.

You toss the pen back to him, and give him his stupid papers back before standing and turning on your heel. You didn’t care if you hadn’t been dismissed, you were done. You needed to be alone, you needed to cry. You stride across his large office, and just as your hand touches the brass knob of the heavy door, his voice rings out.

“You’re to be married in two months' time, wedding planning begins tomorrow.” You clench the knob, fighting back the tears. He didn’t deserve to see you cry. “Sleep well, Pearlie.” You swore on your mama’s gravestone that the nickname she had given you dripped with venom when it came from his mouth. Sometimes you wished you could drip actual venom into his mouth, shut him up forever. It was a soothing thought when you were younger, before he had shipped you off to boarding school.

You make your way down the long carpeted hallway to the large wooden staircase, climbing them as quickly as you could. You could hear your sisters, Victoria and Lucy in their room giggling about something that had happened at school, and you smiled as you pressed your ear to the door. You had worried the whole time your mother was pregnant that the girls would be treated just as horribly as you were when your mother wasn’t around, that they would have to hide bruises and emotions and pretend that everything was okay just like you did, but they were his own flesh and blood, his own life force, he could never act such a way towards his own blood. But they weren’t boys, so they also weren’t good enough to take over his fucking business.

You head a little farther down the hall, closing and locking your own door behind you as you slipped into your room, the only place that occasionally felt safe to you when you were here. “I wish you were here, mama.” You whisper to the photo sitting on the dressing table right next to the door.

True to his word, the wedding planning started the next day. You were awoken by your sisters’ nanny early in the morning, her knocking at your bedroom door loud to your pounding head. You had spent the night crying and you were paying for it dearly.

“Miss Pearl,” Her ever pleasant voice calls through the thick wood as you sit up in bed. “Boyd is requesting you downstairs, your betrothed and his father have arrived..” You glance at the clock. It was seven-thirty in the morning. You were used to waking up around this time for school anyway, you had only been home twenty-four hours by this point. “He’s not too pleased this morning,” Her hushed voice comes next and you sigh, leaning your head back into your pillow.

“Thank you, Lorraine,” You say loud enough for her to hear, your thick comforter falling off of you as you sit up. “Tell them I'll be down soon, please..” She doesn’t respond but you hear her footsteps fade away from your door.

You stretch before swinging your legs over the side of your bed, rolling your head from side to side. You knew it was in your best interest to play along with Boyd’s scheme, and he would know if you were half assing or catching an attitude the moment you walked into the room. If you were going to do this, then dammit, you were going to do this right.

Within fifteen minutes you were dressed in a sleeveless white dress that flowed down to your feet, the top of it pushing your breasts up in the illusion of a push-up bra. You had purposely bought this one a size or so too small for that effect while you were still at school, wanting to impress one of the guys you had been previously dating before graduation. You left your hair down to fall around your shoulders, brushing it and using one of your favorite hair serums to run through it with your fingers, leaving a nice smell before you slid on a glossy lip oil and mascara, with a spritz of your favorite perfume to your wrists.

With one last look at the photo of your mom, silently wishing she were here with you to help you through this, you open your door and make your way barefoot down the hallway and stairs.

You hear their voices when you come off the stairs in the middle of the grand hallway on the first floor, floating out of the massive dining room that was hardly ever used. You don’t pause, afraid that if you did it would be all you would need to turn tail and hide in your bedroom forever, and head immediately for the doorway, waltzing in as if you weren’t interrupting their apparently humorous conversation.

You paint a smile on your face as Boyd narrows his eyes at you, a look that you knew meant he wasn’t at all happy with you and you were certainly going to hear about it later. “Sorry to keep you waiting, sir,” You say, kissing his cheek to keep up the appearance of a loving father and daughter relationship, something you had been doing since you were ten. He couldn’t have the world knowing that he despised his late wife’s daughter, could he? You squeeze his shoulder. “The drive up from school must have exhausted me more than i realized, i didn’t mean to sleep in and miss greeting our guests.” You shoot them an award winning smile as well as you smooth out your skirt, taking your seat next to Boyd, but across from the Sheriff and who you assumed was his son.

Boyd hums and you just know that he’s boiling with rage at you, though in your defense, he hadn’t informed you that there would be a breakfast this morning. “You haven’t missed much, we were just talking about your horse actually, and your award from Eventing last season.” Just the topic brought another smile onto your face, a real one this time.

“That was a close one too, we were neck and neck with our second place competitor..” You had spent the majority of the time after the event wondering if Boyd had paid off the judges to put you in first, though you did know that you had put in a lot of training hours with Bubbles, and it had clearly shown. Besides, Boyd didn’t like you nearly enough to pay off the judges just to see you place first in any sport, let alone Equestrian Eventing.

The older man sitting across from you, the Sheriff, smiles what appears to be a genuine smile at you. “You love your horses, I can tell from the way your whole face just lit up like the sun had touched it..” You can’t help the blush on your face, and judging by the look on his sons face as he looked at you, you had just done something right without even knowing it. “You and I already have something in common with each other, perhaps i’ll make time to take a ride with you this weekend..” His sons face completely changed at the mention, you would say it resembled a sort of panic.

“I would love that!” You exclaim, more than pleased to spend any kind of time on your horse, even if it was with your soon to be father in law. He nods at you in return, and nudges his son, as if communicating with him.

Breakfast is served not too much longer after that, and the time is spent with your step father and the Sheriff talking about things you couldn’t even have pretended to care about in that moment, like golf or what the government was doing, while you and the boy across from you shared a couple of glances, staying silent unless spoken to.

You had to admit, he wasn’t terrible on the eyes. He wore a black polo shirt underneath of what you could only assume was a bullet proof vest with a velcro patch that said Sheriff across the chest. His hair was slicked back away from his face, and you noticed a tattoo peaking out of one of the short sleeves stretched across his bicep. Oh, he was certainly handsome, but probably not the type to ever be happy with a girl like you..nor did you think you could be happy with him.

You were obviously younger than him at only eighteen (your birthday thankfully just before your wedding date), you had just graduated highschool. You had no job, and your only future now lay with the man in front of you. He didn’t speak too much, and you couldn’t tell if it was because he was a naturally quiet person, or if it was because his father and Boyd were obviously the alphas in the room and from what you could gather, weren’t to be bothered until they bothered you first. You didn’t mind that he was older than you, though you guessed he was at least mid twenties if he was already a cop. You kind of liked the thought of being with someone older than you, the boys you had been with at school were all dipshits and childish. You hoped that he wasn’t the same. And if he was, well, at least he was handsome to look at.

The boy, Gator, looked up at you from across the table. You decided that his eyes were hazel, a beautiful color for a decidedly beautiful man. You give him a shy smile from where you sat, raising a mug of your favorite breakfast tea to your lips. You noticed the way he licks his lips, his eyes darting to your mouth and back to his plate once you had set your cup down on its saucer. Well, you thought, at least he’s clearly attracted to me. Maybe our marriage won’t be completely boring..

You had long ago tuned out the droning voices of your step father and your soon to be father in law, using your fork to pick around at the fruit salad you had served yourself for breakfast, adding a little yogurt to it here and there. You couldn’t bring yourself to fully eat, your stomach uneasy the more you thought about your impending marriage. God, how was arranged marriage even still a thing? How was this even fucking legal? You made a mental note to ask Boyd for copies of all of the documents you had signed so you could take them to a lawyer in town somewhere, have them double check that the documents were in fact legal. If there was anything you could do to get out of this, you were willing to do it. 

You’re jolted from your thoughts by Boyd’s voice, and you jump, startled. “Sorry, i was day dreaming..” You say, shaking your head with a small giggle, hoping that he hadn’t been trying to get your attention for too long. You can see Sheriff Roy give a small smile from across the table, another nudge to his son.

Boyd gives you a subtle eye roll as he faces you, and you can tell from his body language that he’s upset with you for zoning out. You were certain to hear an earful about it tonight and that made you nervous. “Roy and I have some business to attend to in my office,” He says, giving a pointed glance to the boy sitting across from you guys. “How about you take Gator on a walk around the grounds? The girls are out getting piano and violin lessons right now, you won’t be bothered for a while.” Is he trying to tell me to fuck this boy? You wondered disgustedly, you knew Boyd was..well, Boyd, but really?

You want to say no, you want to tell him to marry the boy himself if it was that important to him, but you’re afraid of what could possibly happen to you if you do, so you paint another smile on your lips and look over to your husband to be. “I’ll show you my horse!” You say, setting your napkin next to your plate as you stand, walking around the table to lead him out into the foyer. “The barn is a little ways out there,” You say when you notice him following you out of the dining room. “Hope you don’t mind a little walk..”

He follows you silently through the formal living room and into the kitchen, straight back into the mudroom where you bend over to put your well worn boots on. They were brown, and the leather was starting to wear down on them but you didn’t mind, they still got the job done. They were a gift from your mama and you would wear them until they fell apart, and even then you would probably duct tape them back together again.

He’s gentlemanly enough to hold the back door open for you, and you breathe in his scent as you brush past him. He smells good, his cologne floods your scents. Its a woodsy kind of scent, mixed with a little bit of leather, and something a little fruity that you can’t quite name and you wonder what the hell it is as he falls in step next to you as you both walk off of the porch. His hands are slipped into his pockets as you guys walk, a casual look, and you notice that he’s tall too, even in his work boots.

You realize that he’s not going to make the first step to conversation.

When you’re a good enough distance away from the house, out of sight of Boyd’s office, you stop abruptly and turn to face him, the sun beats down on his face even with his baseball cap pulled down over his eyes. He stops too, tilting his face down at you, an eyebrow raised and an amused look on his face. God, you though, he really is handsome.

“Can I help you with somethin’?” He asks, his drawl washing over you. That was the first time he had spoken and good lord his voice could do things to you if this were any other kind of situation, you just knew it. His shoulders are squared, and you realize that now, alone with you, he is the alpha male. You kind of like the vibe that rolls off of him, but it makes you wonder why he cowered when he was in the same room as your guys’ fathers.

You look around, lips pursed and hands on your hips as you thought. “Look,” You start, meeting his gaze under the brim of his hat. “The way I see it, neither of us particularly wants to be in this situation.” He hums in agreement, crossing his arms over his chest as he listens to what you have to say. “Neither of us are happy, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t at least try to be friends..we’re both stuck doing this, and even though i wasn’t given a choice, I would still like to at least be friends with the person i’m marrying in two months..”

He sniffs and looks around for a moment, and for the first time, you see a smile on his face and you couldn’t help but think it was beautiful. “Alright then,” He says, holding out his hand for you to shake. “Let’s be friends.”

taglist:

@ruth-barnes @justherebecausesafarisucks @daisy-is-a-writer

[muldermuse]

two sinners (Gator Tillman X F!Reader)

ok so this is feral and I wrote it in a day bc I could feel it rotting away in my brain

Gator Tillman is a horrible guy and reader wants to get him back.

18+ only!!! Smut below. Smut includes piv sex, infidelity (pretty big thing), Gator is mean but so is reader, oral (f receiving), rimming (m receiving), slutshaming, mention of anal (f receiving), mention of cuffs used as restraints, brief nipple play, use of the word whore/slut, spitting, dirty talk, praise kink, stalking???. If any of that makes you uncomfortable, please do not read.

this could be a multi part fic. It was fun to write and I enjoy the dynamic so lemme know if u enjoyed!!!

He’s barely out of you by the time he says it this time. “That’s the last fuckin’ time I do this shit, we’re done”. He spits it at you like it’s acid on his tongue. 

You’re lying on your bed completely naked as his come is slowly dripping out of you onto your linen. The first few times you’d done this, you put on fresh linen and lit a floral candle. He never appreciated it so you stopped. His statement would hurt you a lot more if this wasn’t becoming a regular occurrence. It’s become a routine; something it was never supposed to be. 

He visits your home, fucks you however you want him to, makes you come as many times as he can, he feels guilt as soon as he finishes, he splashes cold water over his face in your en suite bathroom (leaves it in puddles across your tiled floor and organised surfaces) and then grabs his things and storms out. He’ll be back before the end of the week- he always is.

You’re getting tired of it. It should be harder now he has a girlfriend and you’re seeing a few guys from the local area. But it isn’t. You’re unsure why.

He tells you he hasn’t slept with Glenda yet. His daddy loves her, thinks she’s the sweetest thing he’s ever seen and he’s been vocal about his dislike of you. You think he’s a fucking idiot so you guess it’s good that the feeling is mutual. Gator can’t be with anyone his daddy doesn’t like, you’ve heard him brag about how he could get any gal he wants but you know it’s not true. You’re pretty sure that Gator knows that as well deep down. 

You were sleeping together before he got with Glenda. Glenda is a church girl and his daddy’s protege. Roy sets them up and tells Gator he’s been blessed to have Glenda enter his life. Whereas, Roy thinks you have sin in your heart and you know that you do. You believe him that he hasn’t slept with her yet, if he does- it makes the whole relationship real. This is something that you know Gator is trying to avoid. His head is buried deep beneath the sand and he’s trying to find air holes to catch his breath before he suffocates. 

You’re sleeping with other people, like Jax from the local store and Steve from the bar. Neither know about each other or about your Gator situation. Jax and Steve take you out on dates and fuck you in their cars and their homes. It’s passionate and sweet. It’s filled with promises and hope. Gator fucks you like he’s trying to get expel something deadly from his body. Gator’s a terrible person and you know that you are too. This is why you’re done with him, not for Glenda or Roy Tillman. Certainly not for Jax and Steve. You’re done because you want him to want you more than he ever has before. He’s an asshole and you want him more desperate than ever for you. You hear him spit in your sink as he comes back into the bedroom. 

“You say this shit all the time Gator. What if I’m done with you huh?” You’re still naked and you can feel his cum drying on your inner thighs.

“You’re the one who always comes crawlin’ back to me remember? Jus’ a fuckin’ whore- that’s why I liked usin’ you though so don’t take it personal”. He giggles cruelly as he shrugs his jacket back on. 

His words don’t hurt, a few months ago they would’ve made your stomach drop and tears prick in your eyes. But now? It just fuels you. 

“Go back to Glenda, Gator”. That will hurt him. You never say her name, you only do it because that sentence is the equivalent of a scorching red hot poker branding his sensitive skin. 

“Don’t say her fuckin’ name”. Anger flashes across his eyes. “I am so fuckin’ done with you and I mean it”. You want to laugh at how powerful he perceives his words to be. 

“You say fuckin’ shit you don’t mean all the time Gator. It’s like breathing to you”. You wrap a bedsheet around you and get up to stand in front of him. 

“That’s it then, you’re done with this right?” He nods. “I don’t wanna see your fuckin’ face or hear from you again. Don’t text me, don’t casually come into my work and don’t fuckin’ turn up here.

Get the fuck out of my fuckin’ house, Gator”

***

Two weeks pass with nothing. You can’t say you’re not impressed. He doesn’t glance at you when you see him on the street. He doesn’t call or text. 

Glenda shares pictures on Facebook of the pair of them. She looks happy and he looks uncomfortable. You think that that sums up the entire relationship. You know he’s going to break and speak to you; it’s just waiting.

You carry on seeing Jax and Steve. Jax takes you to a drive in movie theatre and goes down on you on the backseat for the entire movie. He buys you your favourite candies and chips for the ride there and back. He makes you laugh and asks if you want to make it official- you tell him you don’t. He asks when he can see you again. 

Steve takes you to a new steakhouse. He gets you a bottle of red wine and when you don’t like how your steak is cooked; he swaps your plates. You go back to his place and ride him on the couch in his living room. You spend the entire time thinking about how you couldn’t do this with Gator because he lives with his daddy. Before you leave, Steve gives you a necklace with your birthstone on. He tells you how much you mean to him, you thank him and drive home. 

You don’t miss Gator. You don’t feel positively about him at all. You just like that he wants you and you like the power you hold over him. If you wanted to ruin his life you could. You could tell his daddy and Glenda that he loves fucking a sinner. That he’s fucked you in every possible way they could imagine and he loves it. You could tell them about how he’s been that pussydrunk on you; he’s told you he’s in love with you. Or maybe about how after you ate his ass on his daddy’s dining room table, he told you he wanted to run away with you and that he’d already looked into it and started storing money away. You didn’t say anything back to him, you just stored away these love drunk confessions so you could use them against him. 

Gator Tillman is the worst guy you know.

And he makes you feel fucking powerful.

***

It takes 4 weeks in total for him to break. 

[received on Monday at 04:32] Gator🐍💩: are u going to the church potluck on Saturday

[received on Monday at 10:12] Gator🐍💩: just bc u went last year, know it’s not ur scene tho. 

[received on Monday at 15:05] Gator🐍💩: im goin with Glenda so just don’t want it to be awkward

[received at Tuesday at 01:54] Gator🐍💩: ?? Do you have a new number? 

He calls you three times on Wednesday. 

You ignore every text and every ring. 

His patrol car is parked over the street from you on Thursday. He knows you leave for work at half 6 in the morning. You know you’ll see him again, probably during lunch as he is so fucking predictable. Every Thursday, you go for a bagel at a local deli because you love the mid week special. You can already picture his car parked outside there on the curb waiting for you. So you know it’s a great time to invite your new, very handsome, colleague called Jenson along. Jenson is new to the department and is a quarterback for a local team. He’s made his attraction to you pretty clear, he brings in a coffee for you every morning and has asked you out for drinks before. 

You offer to drive Jenson to the deli and, of course, Gator’s car is parked out front. He sees you but you don’t look at him. You can feel his eyes burning into you and Jenson. You grip Jenson’s bicep and throw your head back in a giggle and something mediocrely funny that he said. As you get closer to Gator’s car, you politely smile at him and squeeze Jenson’s arm tighter. 

[received on Thursday at 21:45] Gator🐍💩: Jenson Ackerley????? really??? that guys a fuckin asshold

[received on Thursday at 22:35] Gator🐍💩: *asshole

Instead of replying to Gator, you spend Thursday evening exchanging flirty texts with Jenson. You invite him to the Potluck on Sunday and ask if he wants to come back to your place for dessert. 

***

He reaches new levels of desperation on Friday.

“Hi, it’s Joe on reception. I’m really sorry to disturb you on your lunch. I have Sheriff Tillman here and he just wants to come to your office if that’s okay?”

You’re sat alone preparing for the rest of your day when Joe’s call comes through. Jenson has finished early for the day and gave you a bouquet of flowers before he left. He smiled when he gave them to you and said he couldn’t wait to spend the day with you on Sunday. 

You’re excited as well but for a different reason.

“Hi Joe, I’m sorry but can you tell Gator that I’m just having my lunch with Mr Ackerley so I don’t have time for a chat”

You can hear Gator speaking in the distance after Joe relays your message to him.

“He says it will only take a few minutes”

“Can you apologise for me Joe and tell him that Mr Ackerley and I will see him on Sunday at his Father’s potluck”

You hear Joe recite the message verbatim for Gator. Although you can’t see it, you can imagine the look of disgust on his face and it makes you grin.

You spend Friday evening texting Jenson and telling him in detail what you’re going to do when you get back to your home on Sunday. He asks if you want to ‘skip straight to dessert’ and miss the potluck. You tell him you can’t because you’re planning to see a friend. You don’t tell him who it is.

***

You wear an outfit you know Gator will love on Sunday. It’s a pale green flouncy dress which pushes your tits up and looks amazing. Your hair is half up half down and your make up is dewy with a strawberry scented lip gloss brushed over your lips. You text Jenson and ask him to bring an extra coat for you to wear because you’ll be cold. He doesn’t ask why you don’t just wear your own.

Jenson tells you how beautiful you look on your doorstep and he hands you another bouquet. It’s white peonies and he says it nearly matches your outfit. As you laugh at him, you pull his face to yours to kiss him. He drives to the potluck in his truck and you listen to a country album he’s been telling you about. You haven’t brought a meal but Jenson’s mom has made some pasta salad so you’ll pass that off as your own. His hand stays on your upper thigh the entire ride.

The first person you see at the potluck is Glenda. She looks great, you have to admit. Her blonde hair is in a tight bun sitting at the nape of her neck. Her dress is long, black and covers her body. A diamond crucifix hangs around her neck and you know that Roy made his son buy that for her as a token of his love for her.

You and Glenda don’t get on. You know she doesn’t suspect anything about you and Gator; her mind wouldn’t even dare think about it. You’ve known her since high school and you could lie and say that the only reason you don’t like her is because you existed in different social groups. It isn’t because of that. It’s because Glenda is a truly and fundamentally awful person. You recognised in your younger years that she enjoyed making people miserable. Shaming people about their relationships to god and judging everyone from afar.

She smiles politely at Jenson as he puts his hand on your lower back. She tries not to scowl at you as you hand her the dish of pasta salad. You know she thinks you look like a slut, she’ll definitely run to her friends and tell them about how disgraceful it is that you’ve come into a church community looking like a whore. You smile harder when you think about how Gator has fucked you in his patrol car whilst you wore this dress.

Jenson goes to the grand table in the centre of the hall. As he’s pouring a cup of punch for both of you, he gets accosted by two of Glenda’s friends who take their time complimenting him all the while smirking at you. You feel a presence next to you, you cross your arms to push your tits higher as you turn around.

“Oh, hi Roy, didn’t hear you sneakin’ up on me”. Your grin to him is saccharine and he snarls in response.

“I don’t remember invitin’ you to this, for the church community only. A community you are not part of so it’s time to go”. His voice is gruff and as you go to respond; you see Gator.

You make eye contact across the hall. He looked stressed and then as soon as he saw you; it flickered to what you can only imagine is rage. Glenda is talking away at him and he’s not looking at her. His eyes are trailing up and down your body. He recognises the dress. Jenson obscures your view as he stands in front of you holding out a cup of punch. He wraps his arm around you and whispers lowly in your ear that he’s spiked both of your cups with liquor from his flask. You giggle back at him, get on your tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his jaw.

Although you think it would be hilarious, you want to avoid an interaction with you, Jenson, Glenda and Gator. At this point, you’re unsure if Gator’s heart could take it. Jenson gets pulled away by Glenda’s friends to help arrange the plates for the potluck dishes and of course he does it. He kisses you before he goes and as your lips touch; your eyes never leave Gator’s.

***

It takes twenty minutes for him to grab your wrist and pull you into an empty room. Everyone is too preoccupied with grabbing plates to notice you both leave.

“Real fuckin’ nice. Comin’ here dressed like a fuckin’ slut and can’t keep your fuckin’ hands off some shitty quarterback. You know what people think of you, right?” He’s in your face, the spit from his lips is hitting your mouth and cheeks. 

He’s so mad.

And, of course, you fucking love it.

“Surprisingly Gator, I don’t give a fuck what your fuckin’ church girl or asshole daddy think of me…I know what you think about me though”. You move in closer to him and he doesn’t try to back away. His eyes bore into yours and you can hear him try to steady his breath. You can imagine his heart thundering away in his chest. You rest your hands on his vest and slowly unzip it.

“You think I’m a good girl. You’ve said it before- remember? You’ve said it when you fucked me in your patrol car…”

Your fingers move to unbutton his shirt.

“You whispered it to me when Glenda was downstairs and you had me on my knees sucking your cock in your daddy’s bathroom…she had no idea we were in there did she?” You giggle lightly as you feel his heart rate thumping quickly under your fingers.

“And you definitely thought I was a good girl that time you fucked my ass in your bed. Remember? We used the handcuffs, I think you called it me a few times…yeah you definitely did. You said I was such a good fucking girl”.

His shirt is half unbuttoned and his chest is basically heaving under the strain of his rapid heartbeat. You can feel his hard dick pressing into you, you smile at him and take a step back.

“I gotta go though, Jenson is probably waiting for me. We’ll probably shoot off soon, he said- he said, ha, that we’d have dessert back at my place. Who knows? Maybe he’ll get lucky tonight…he probably thinks I’m a good girl too. Maybe I can be his good girl from now on”.

He storms past you, his shoulder barging into yours on his way past and for a second, you’re devastated. Maybe you pushed him too far? Are you going to have to wait another four weeks for him to cave.

But he doesn’t leave.

He just locks the door and pushes a table against it as quietly as he can.

***

He grabs your hips and pulls them towards him.

“You fuckin’ feel that right? You feel how fuckin’ hard you make me. I’ve had this since I fuckin’ left your place four weeks ago. I fuckin’ hate you…I’ve fuckin’ missed you”. You’re not sure you would classify it as a kiss, it’s more like he’s shoving his face against yours.

He runs his hand through your hair and grips it; the power of it forces you to open your mouth. You stick your tongue out and give him your best doe eyes. He smirks and nibbles your jaw. Hard but not hard enough to leave any kind of mark. You maintain eye contact as he spits in your mouth. He raises his eyebrows at you and you swallow without objection. He smirks as you open your mouth and stick your tongue back out.

He kisses your neck and bites it lightly as you fight the urge to run your hands through his hair (Heaven forbid you mess up his slicked back hair).

“Baby, we gotta be quick. They might come lookin’ for us” he mumbles against your neck.

You go to bend over the table pushed against the door but Gator stops you before you can flip your dress up to grant him access.

“No baby, I need to see you. Missed your fuckin’ face too much…wanna watch you get e’en prettier when I make you come” 

He kisses you hard as he pushes you down against the table. He gets on his knees in front of you like your pussy is a biblical experience. He kisses your clit through your lace underwear and gently nips it with his teeth. 

“Gator, we don’t have time to tease” you try your hardest not to moan outwardly as you speak. You can’t let him know how much he’s affecting you, even though how wet he’s making you has completely given it away. 

He rips your underwear off and pulls your tits out of your dress. He takes them between his hands and rolls your nipples with his thumb and forefinger. You can hear him mumbling under his breath but you can’t work out what he’s saying. He always gets transfixed with your boobs. 

He doesn’t warn you as he notches his cock into you. You’re wet enough that he slides in with one motion. He’s on your mouth before there’s a chance for a moan to slip out. He thrusts into you slow and deep, he nudges your g spot and your eyes roll back into your head as he slips his tongue into your mouth. 

The only sounds filling the room is the soft rhythmic creak of the wooden table, the steady thrusts of Gator’s cock into you and the stifled moans slipping into each others mouths. It’s all too much, the noises, Gator’s cock perfectly grazing your g spot, his tongue in your mouth and the thought that he’s doing this mere feet away from his daddy and girlfriend. Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere and as you squeeze his cock, Gator puts his hand over your mouth and shushes you but he doesn’t stop fucking you. Your eyes roll into the back of his head as you hear him curse above you. This is the most intense sex you’ve ever had with him. 

It is so worth the wait.

You know he’s getting close; he has obvious tells that you could recite perfectly. His left leg starts to twitch, his mouth slightly hangs open and his eyes glaze over. He also either gets sentimental or speaks like he’s in a shitty Brazzers porn video. This time it’s a mix of the two. 

“Take my fuckin’ come, you take it so fuckin’ good. It’s all yours- it’s all yours”. He thrusts hard inside you twice before he stills. He rests his forehead against yours and presses a soft kiss to your lips.  You allow yourself a few seconds to enjoy his tenderness. 

You readjust your dress as Gator moves the table away from the door. You slip on Jenson’s coat as you walk over to the locked door. 

“I meant what I said y’know…I’ve missed you”. Again, you’re back in the routine. You know it well and you can’t deny how much you enjoy it. He’s going to ask to fuck you tonight, he’ll promise that it’ll be special- that’s what he usually says. 

He moves to interlock his pinky finger with yours. 

“Get rid of Jenson and let me come round tonight. Tell him you’re sick or somethin’. I wanna…I mean… I gotta to make it up to you. I’ll tell Glenda that I picked up an extra shift. That gives us all night an’ we can take our time”. 

As you open your mouth to respond, you hear a knock on the door and Jenson’s voice calling out. 

“You in there hon? I think I’m gonna head out…really fancy dessert. Y’know, if you catch my drift”. 

*** 

You tell Jenson in the car that you’re not feeling well. He’s a good guy and offers to stay and look after you. When you say no, he asks for a coffee date later this week and you agree.

As you see his reverse out of your driveway; you text Gator that he can come round if he’s here in the next hour. 

He’s back in your bed in less than forty minutes.

[stevesxyellowxsweater]

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!

So I had an unfortunate accident with my inbox and managed to delete my requests (sorry guys) So here is a post to shout out that I'm opening requests. One shots, Head canons, mood boards, they are all open and I'd love some requests beautiful people. Or if you can't think of anything, you could just always drop me some questions or have a chat. I don't mind just come give me some love!