#fargo fic

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Gator Tillman x Reader

Summary: Your husband has a problem with alcohol, which creates problems with the law. His latest stunt just might put him behind bars for a long, long time. Luckily for you, Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman has offered you a way to save your husband from such a fate. But serving justice Gator’s way may be a tight fit…

This shouldn’t be happening. You hated Gator Tillman, and he was, at the very least, indifferent about you.

“Got yourself in a tough spot, don’t ya?” he grinned down at you, his breath dusting your nose. It smelled like that disgusting vape he was always puffing on, some kind of mango/pineapple combination. The smell reminded you of Fruit Stripe, except instead of smelling like a single stick of gum, it smelled as if Gator had crammed the whole pack in his mouth at once. Too sweet, so sweet it was nauseating. And yet…

“Aren’t ya gonna answer me, pretty girl?” Gator pressed, leaning in till the tip of his nose brushed yours. “I mean, you can still say no if y’want. I’ll be a gentleman about it...” The corner of his mouth rose in a grin. “…Promise.”

You believed him. Gator didn’t scare you; he pissed you off. All the times he’d arrested your husband, the way Gator had talked shit about him to his face…it made you sick. Your husband may have been the most infamous drunk in Stark county, but he was a human being, too, a fact Gator cruelly ignored.

This time, your spouse was facing more than a couple of nights in county jail. The Tillmans had warned your husband that their generosity was running thin. After countless failed attempts at maintaining sobriety, your husband hadn’t been able to stay out of trouble. This latest incident, which had happened last night, was his worst infraction yet: he’d beaten one of his drinking ‘buddies,’ so severely, he’d put him in the hospital.

“It’s really none of my business anyway,” Gator continued. “Whatever happens to your old man, I mean. That’s in your hands-.” Gator took your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs in little circles over your skin. Your cheeks warmed instantly, a heat pooling deep inside you. You hated yourself for wondering what the same action with his fingers would feel like rubbing circles over other parts of your body. Gator clicked his tongue to get your attention; your eyes flicked up to meet his.

“Now listen,” Gator added, his eyes and tone now darker with impatience. “I ain’t got all day. I can clean up your old man’s mess if you want-.” Gator smiled lecherously. “-But you’re gonna have to make a little mess of your own, first…”

You bit your lip, wondering how exactly this was going to go down. Because you knew it was going to happen-you were going to do this-but how would Gator expect you to pay your husband’s debt? In what way?

Gator answered your question by reaching in the back of his truck and pulling out a tattered blanket, which he tossed onto the ground. “No sense in gettin’ your knees dirty, sweetheart,” Gator murmured, taking another drag of his vape. “Told ya I’m a gentleman.” He tipped his vape toward the ground, indicating where he wanted you-“Go on now; you know what to do,”-and you went down on your knees.

Gator removed his utility belt and let it fall to the ground beside the blanket. He unbuttoned his cargo pants and pulled the zipper down, cock pulsing when his hand grazed it, stopping just short of revealing it. He watched the look of confusion color your face when he didn’t go further. “Use your mouth to get it out,” Gator said flatly.

You complied, scooting closer on your knees so your face was level with Gator’s crotch. He didn’t smell sweaty and disgusting ‘down there,’ like you’d assumed he would. The lingering scent of sandalwood body spray mixed with Gator’s natural scent blended into something heady and masculine. You pressed your nose against the soft cotton of his blue boxer briefs and inhaled, deeply.

Gator grunted contentedly, his big hand closing over the top of your head, fingers threading your hair. “Y’like it down there or somethin?” he murmured above you. The metallic click of Gator’s vape pen sounded as he clicked it on, followed by the raspy pull of him taking a long drag. His fingers tightened in your hair, another grunt leaving his throat as he rubbed his crotch against your lips, prompting you to instinctively part them.

Gator was big. You massaged the outline of his cock through his underwear, his thickness spreading your lips wide apart. His tip was pointing upward, confined by the waistband of his underwear, making his full, heavy balls even more prominent. You’d have been lying to yourself if you’d said his cock didn’t intimidate you a little.

Enjoying himself and your submission at his feet, Gator lazily rubbed his crotch against your face. He wasn’t in any kind of hurry…he didn’t have to be. Gator had brought you out to the middle of nowhere, and ‘nowhere,’ was easy to come by in a place like Stark County.

“Goddamn,” he murmured, exhaling another cloud into the country air. “Your other set of lips this good?” His language was crude and tacky, and for god knows what reason, you were loving it. Gator pocketed his vape, then pulled off his jacket and shrugged it aside. You were dripping all over your panties, saturating them with desire.

Slipping your teeth over the waistband of Gator’s boxers, you tugged them downward. Once free, Gator’s massive cock landed heavy against the top of your head and bounced back, a sticky string of precum clinging to your hair. You let his underwear slide down around his ankles. Gator shuffled out of them, his cock bobbing just out of your lips’ reach as he moved. The precum still connected his tip to your hair, breaking only when you lifted your head to close your lips around him.

You gingerly suckled at Gator’s tip, preparing yourself mentally for the task of taking him down your throat. You curved your tongue under the first couple of inches, stroking the veins that bloomed at the ridge where his tip met his shaft. Gator clutched your hair more deliberately, his eyes now closed, lips parted softly. He pressed his hips forward slowly, urging you deeper onto his cock. Your throat constricted as his tip met your gag reflex. Saliva bubbled from your lips around Gator’s cock as your throat rejected him, but you forced yourself still. Gator had established a slow rhythm at this point, thrusting gently in and out of your throat with one hand still locked in your hair, and the other on his hip.

You were able to take him about five inches deeper before choking, the threat of vomit forcing you to push off of Gator’s cock. Rather than be pissed off, as you imagined he’d be, Gator knelt to the ground, meeting you at your level. His eyes were trained on the space where your t-shirt tucked into your leggings, like he was contemplating the quickest way to get you out of them.

“Get on your back,” Gator told you, his hands reaching for your thighs, his eyes fixed between them. “Wanna see if it tastes as good as it smells.”

He yanked your leggings down so forcefully they ripped at the sides, but you couldn’t have cared less. He’d tugged your underwear down at the same time, revealing your wet, glistening pussy like a treat to be devoured. Gator hooked his arms under your legs, locking your body in place, and buried his nose between your lips. You gripped the fabric of his shirt like a vice, your body wracked with the electricity of his tongue licking in and out of you aggressively. Gator groaned hungrily into your cunt, moaning soft words against the moist heat his tongue couldn’t swallow enough of to satisfy his craving for it.

After eating you to orgasm twice, Gator suddenly rose to stand over you, breath coming in bursts, unsteady on his feet. His typically slicked-back hair was completely disheveled, wet with sweat and fallen against the sides of his cum-soaked face. Gator reached forward and took you by the hair, lifting your face to meet his crotch. “Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he panted, his voice a pretty mix of authority and desperation. “You’re gonna take it all and thank me for it after, understand?”

You nodded, your eyes heavy-lidded in the dumb, blissful afterglow of climax, Gator’s hand gripping your hair so tightly he could have nodded your head for you. Groaning through his release, Gator emptied himself over your tongue, semen spilling down your chin and collecting in the fabric of your shirt. You worried immediately about the stains it might leave behind. How would you explain them to your husband? Regardless of the consequences, you decided that having to wash the deputy sheriff’s cum from your clothes was a small price to pay, in exchange for your husband’s freedom...

@justmeinadaze

[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…

[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.

[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.

[2jihiir0]

sleaze ch 3 : desperation

commissioned by @lulalulens | fic by: @thisusernameisunavailable01

Read sleaze here !

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Badge Bunny

Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Getting pulled over by one of Stark County's finest turns into anything but a routine traffic stop.

Word count: 3.3K

18+ MDNI! Go on, get!

Warnings: Porn with a smidge of plot. Allusion to cheating (but not really!). Degradation. Oral (male receiving). Throat fucking. Spitting. Choking. Breeding kink. Size kink. Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it!). Creampie.

Note: Thank you @starksbabie for keeping me motivated and constantly feeding the already rampant Gator thots! This one is for you you bb!

Badge Bunny Masterlist

Making your way down the familiar stretch of highway you weren't paying attention to any of your surroundings, only looking forward to getting home after a long night. 

Headlights cutting through the dark, deserted fields on either side of the small 2 lane road. Nothing went on this time of night. 

You hadn't noticed passing the familiar truck parked a little off the road in the gravel alcove. 

Humming along with the radio lost in your own little world the sudden bright blue lights behind you hit your eyes from the reflection in the rearview. 

“Shit,” you hissed, but wasted no time pulling over on the shoulder, rolling down the window as you came to a stop.

You watched through the side mirror. He slowly exits his truck as if he had all the time in the world. Adjusting his pants and belt before making his way toward you. 

You noted he was missing his vest and usual hat. Black shirt tight across his chest and abdomen. His thigh holster was exactly where it always was, an accessory he was almost never without. 

He sidled up to the window. Leaning down, so he could see your face. 

“Evening, license and registration.” You couldn't roll your eyes any harder. 

“Gator, I really need to get home. What's your problem this time?” 

“Hey now, that's no way to speak to a deputy.” He tapped the badge strapped to his hip. Black gloves still adorn his hands. Pity. He did have nice hands. 

“Sorry officer, where are my manners? What seems to be the problem tonight?” You put on your best innocent sounding voice, biting your lip as you looked up to him.

“Well, looks like you were going over the speed limit. Wanna step out of the vehicle for me?” his hard ass attitude on full display. 

“Gator, seriously?” You deadpanned and rolled your eyes, but he didn't budge staring down his nose at you, maintaining his authoritative demeanor. 

“Come on…out.” Patting the side of the door for emphasis. 

Quickly realizing it was no use, huffing as he stepped back to make room for you to exit the car.  

He whistles low. Appraising your bare legs in the skirt you wore for work. Waitressing at the local bar has its perks. Nice tips for a little skin.

It didn't help that your tits were pushed up practically spilling out of your top. The only sensible part of your outfit was the converse sneakers to battle any fatigue from running around all night. 

“And where are you off to dressed like that? Your boyfriend let ya’ out of the house like this?” His eyes drifting down and back up. 

Closing the door, and leaning against the side of the car he inches closer as he spoke. Looking up at him from under your lashes growing more unamused by the second. 

“My boyfriend doesn't mind at all, especially when I bring home nice tips. We both know if anyone in this town looks at me wrong he'd kill’m.”

“Is that so pretty girl? Well, he's not here is he?” Making a show to look around at the deserted surroundings, smirking back at you. “Go ahead and turn around for me.” 

You scoff. “Gator, is this absolutely necessary? I may have been going 5 over the limit.” 

“Afraid so. Have t’make sure you don't have any weapons. Hands on the side of the vehicle. Go ahead.” Nodding toward the car.

You huff again but finally relent. Turning around slowly, placing your hands palm down; you'd been through this before, you knew the routine. 

He stalked his way up to you. Anticipation already prickling your skin. Your panties growing damp. 

His chest close enough to your back that you could feel the heat radiating from him even through your shirt. 

His lips ghosted the shell of  your ear when he spoke. 

“If that boyfriend isn't going to put you in your place I guess I'll have to. And the way you've been sassing me, little girl, I've got my hands full t’night.” 

He pulled back, removing his gloves one by one, throwing them in front of you on the top of the hood. 

Placing his hands on your hips, he moved his thigh close behind you as he kicked your feet apart. 

“Gator, come on. I don't have time for this tonight.” 

He didn't say anything, instead lifting his hands higher on your body. Resting on your breasts, squeezing slightly, as your breath hitched. 

He smirked to himself. Slowly dropping his hands down your body. Across your stomach. Down your hips. Traveling the expanse of your thighs to the bottom of your skirt. He paused, pinky grazing the bare skin there that sent goosebumps across your flesh. 

He dropped past your skirt. Drawing a hand up your inner thigh as you shuddered. 

Up, up, up slowly. 

His finger grazed the now sopping fabric. You bit back a moan, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as he pressed slightly into your folds, pushing harder when he reached your clit. 

“Haven't even fuckin’ touched you and you're soaked. Fuck” he hissed as he moved back up to your hips, quickly turning you easily to face him. 

Your hands landing on his chest to keep you steady. He pinched your chin between his thumb and fingers to force you to look up at him. 

“Get on your knees.” he ordered. 

You easily complied. Hands sliding down his body for purchase as you slid. Your knees hit the asphalt. Wincing as its harsh terrain dug into your knees. 

“Good girl.” the words going straight to your core. 

As always a glutton for punishment and adoring any praise he would send your way. 

Your mouth was salivating at the thought of tasting him. Without being told you popped the button on his pants, slowly sliding the zipper down.

“Fuck, look at you. Can't wait to get my cock in your mouth, huh? Been thinking about it all day?” 

He could be a mouthy bastard but God was he right. 

You licked your lips at the already prominent tent in his boxers. Pants falling just below his bulge that you palmed. He hissed, throwing his head back at the sudden contact.

Your fingers grazed the band of his underwear pulling it just a bit, just to let it go as it snapped back into place. His head turned back down to you. Eyes blown full of lust, irises no longer on display. 

“Go on. It's not gonna suck itself.” He nodded, urging you to keep going. 

Your hands pull down his boxers, exposing him fully to you. Cock springing free, teasingly so. The size of him never ceased to amaze you. He easily was the biggest you'd ever had the pleasure of handling and the cocky bastard knows it. 

Long and thick. Tip flushed the prettiest shade of pink with a small bead of precum just beginning to spill from his slit. 

You timidly placed your hand around the base as if you hadn't done it dozens of times before. He was hot and heavy in your palm. 

“Mmmmmm…. Fuck.” He sounded as if he was ready to combust on the spot. 

Wasting no time, you licked a long stripe up the entire underside of his shaft from base to tip as you heard him let out a low moan. He braced himself, placing his hands where yours had been planted moments before on the side of your car. 

You wrapped your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue just the way he liked, eliciting a whine from him. 

“Good fucking girl.” He groaned. “Been thinking about this mouth and throat all fucking day.”

You continued teasing the tip letting your hand pump his neglected shaft. You finally sank down, tip nudging the back of your throat. 

“Mmmmmm… Goddamn.” 

You pulled off of him with a loud pop. 

“Better not let your daddy hear that Gator.” You smirked to yourself. “Taking the Lord's name in vain. Especially while your dick is getting sucked.” You tsked. 

He weaved his fingers through your hair and gripped the back of your head, forcing you back to look at him. You winced at the sudden sting. 

“Still fucking sassing me? My cock not enough to shut you up?” He gave you no time to respond. 

“Open.” 

You obediently obliged, sticking your tongue out and flattening it to accommodate him, letting your eyes fall shut. 

Instead of his cock, spit hits the back of your throat. A look of shock passes your features as you look up at him under hooded eyes before a shy smile adorns your face. 

“Fucking whore. Swallow.” He practically growled. 

You close your lips and obey, a low hum of satisfaction escaping you as you swallow thickly. 

Watching your little display intently, he pumped his length a few times with his free hand, before gripping the base tapping your already swollen lips. 

Your lips part as his tip beaches the heat of your awaiting mouth. He quickly feeds you as much of his cock that you can manage. 

He doesn't give you time to adjust as he plunges deep, hitting the back of your throat. You try to breathe through your nose, letting him use you as he pleases. 

He steadies the hold on your head as he licks his lips. 

“That's it. Good fucking girl. Take it. I know you can.” 

You allow him to fuck your throat. You knew it would be sore in the morning from the relentless punches over and over. 

Your eyes were watering from the abuse, mascara running down your cheeks. You can feel saliva running down your chin.

You knew how you must look but he was looking down at you as if you were the most beautiful site he's ever seen. 

You timidly moved your hand up, reaching the edge of his boxers forcing them down even further. You wrapped your hand around his velvety sack weight heavy in your palm before tugging slightly. 

“Oh fuck.” His hips snapped, bucking into you even further as you gagged around his cock. 

He stopped suddenly, sliding his length from you. String of saliva momentarily connecting from your lips to his tip. 

“Get up and get in the back of the truck.” 

“But…” you were going to argue but the look in his eye told you he was done playing. 

“Now.” 

You quickly shuffled to your feet as he half covered himself to follow behind you. 

He knew this late at night, there wasn't any chance of someone coming by spotting the two of you in such compromising positions but just to be on the safe side he reached into your car to kill the ignition.

He did the same with his. Bright blues fading into darkness. Undoing and removing his holster placing it in the front seat, so it wouldn't get in the way for what he intended to do next. 

You opened the back door and slid yourself up into the cab. Legs dangling in the open doorway awaiting his next instruction. 

He came into view, slowly slotting himself in-between your thighs. Your skirt riding up to expose more of yourself. The way your damp panties were sticking to your folds, suddenly made you grateful for the dim light. 

His hands came to rest on the top of your thighs, squeezing. Thumbs rubbing soothingly in contrast to the way he looked like he wanted to devour you. 

“Lay back and take those panties off f’me.”

You rucked your skirt up higher above your hips putting your clothed core on full display for him. They were his favorite. Pink and lacy with a little white bow on the top, just like a little present all for him. 

He palmed himself, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he sucked in a sharp breath. 

There were no formalities when seeing him like this. It was hot and needy. Quick and dirty. 

You raised your hips, sliding your underwear down your thighs. When you made it past your knees, he slid them the rest of the way. Fingertips grazing your skin on the way down. You didn't miss the way he tucked them away for safekeeping in his pocket. 

You parted your legs as far as they would go with the limited space. 

“Look at you. Who's got you like this huh? Some trash at the bar make you this wet?” 

You shook your head. “No baby, it's you. Always you.” 

You place your fingers through his belt loops, dragging him a little closer.

“Greedy little whore tonight.” He laughs out, grinning at your eagerness. “Pull your shirt up and take those tits out.”

You do as you're told, pulling it up far enough to put your matching bra on display. 

“You wear this hoping someone would see? Huh? Such a fuckin' little whore.”

He can see your already pert nipples through the transparent fabric. He cups both breasts before pulling the fabric down fully exposing you. Not wanting to take the time to properly undress you, latching his mouth to one laving his hot tongue across your bud before taking it between his teeth biting down slightly as you moan and arch into him. 

His hand gave attention to the other, his large palm nearly covering the entirety of you before switching to do the same, so neither were neglected.  

“Fuck, these tits are so perfect. And all mine.” 

He nipped the skin, slowly moving down your sternum with hot opened mouth kisses as he finally sat back up. The cool air hitting the moisture left behind sending a small shiver through you. 

His fingers began to trail the inside of your thigh, inching closer to the spot you yearn for him the most. A whine escapes you as he watches you squirm beneath him. 

He runs his finger up your slit, lips slightly parting as he grazes your bundle of nerves that has your hips bucking on their own accord. 

He slips a finger into your entrance with ease at how soaked you are. 

“Of fuck,” your head lolls to the side. 

“Jesus, this pussy always this needy?” 

You just nodded as he removed his finger, making you whine, bringing it to his parted lips, sucking with an obnoxious slurp. 

“Jesus, you always taste so fucking sweet.”

Growing impatient, you watch as he finally takes his aching cock back out from its confinements. Now an angry shade of red dons the tip, leaking another pearly bead from his slit. He was even harder than before if that was even possible. 

He runs his tip through your folds, catching your clit. That had your back arching, gasping into the sensation. 

“Yeah, that's it.”

He lined himself up with your entrance, breaching slightly. Nothing ever prepared you for the size, always a stretch no matter how many times he had fucked you. 

It was something he relished in each time you were together. Knowing that no one else could fill you up like he could.

He pushed in. Slowly, inch by inch. Your mouth falling open. Toes curling in your shoes. 

Once he reached the hilt, he quickly pulled out and snapped his hips back into yours. Punching the air from your lungs eliciting a moan so loud you were sure someone the next county over could hear. 

“God you're so tight. I missed this pussy.” His face tightened with pleasure, mouth falling slack at the feeling of your walls practically strangling his cock. 

There was no preamble as he sets a near brutal pace, fingers tight around your hips holding you in place sure to leave bruises in their wake. Punching little uh, uh, uhs from you with each upward thrust. 

“That's it. That's fucking it. Who's pussy is this huh?” He growled down at you. 

Too dazed to realize he had asked you a question, already cock drunk, he stopped mid thrust grabbing your jaw forcing you to look up at him, applying so much pressure your lips formed a small pout. 

“I asked you a fucking question. Who's pussy is this?” He loosened his grip so you could answer as he began to piston his hips once more. 

“Yours. It's…mmmm… fuck, all yours Gator.” you managed to squeak out as he placed his thumb on your clit, rubbing lazy circles into the bundle of nerves. 

He moved his other hand, tightening it around your throat, pinning you there as your own hands grasped his wrist and forearm. 

He pounded into your sopping cunt. Eyes trained to where the two of you connected, watching as his fat cock moves in and out. Enamored with the way you took him so well.

His hard length ramming into that spot within you that only he could ever seem to find, over and over, as his assault on your clit never ceased.

He knew that look, your eyes closing in anticipation of tipping over the edge. 

“Yeah? That it sweet thing? You gonna cum all over my dick?” 

“Ahhhh,” is all you could respond. He loosened the grip on your throat slightly. He wanted to hear the noises he could pull from you. 

“Come on, my little badge bunny, cum f’me. I want to feel her grip me.” 

He removed his hand entirely, bending down close to your ear, breath hot on your neck. He braced himself trying not to completely crush you beneath him. 

“Be a good girl and cum. I'll give her what she really wants. Fill her up nice so everyone knows who this pussy belongs to. Make your belly all full and round. Everyone in this fuckin' town’ll know who you belong to. You want that? I know you do.” 

His mouth was good for one thing and the filthy words falling from his lips was all it took. 

Your orgasm hit hard, the sparks behind your eyes were blinding. You didn't have time to warn him as your pussy clamped down pulsing around him, trying to milk him. 

You found purchase gripping his shoulders, screaming his name as you came. Just the way he likes. 

He stopped toying with your clit to chase his own release. He wasn't far behind you, his thrusts becoming erratic. 

He spilled into you with a loud groan and a string of words, coming out so fast you barely understood, “fuck iloveyou ilovethispussy gonnafuckin’knockyouup fuck fuck fuck.” 

He continued a few more thrusts into your already overstimulated pussy before finally stilling. 

He practically collapses on top of you. Face planted in between your neck and shoulder, he stays like for a few moments until he's breathing normally again. 

He raised up, looking for any signs of distress from you. 

“Sorry, you ok?” A sweeter tone to his voice, as he kissed your cheek. 

“M’fine. You okay baby? Roy being a dick today?” You cooed, hand to his cheek, thumb rubbing soothingly there. 

He saved these late night rendezvous for days he had a particularly hard day at work. 

His usually slick backed hair was falling into his face, as he nodded. “Yeah, but I'm better now. Ready to get home?” 

“Ready when you are, big boy.” You smiled deeply at him as his lips met yours.

It was a slow, needy kiss. His slightly chapped, wind bitten lips melted into yours as you pulled him closer. The tenderness a stark contrast to the way he fucked you moments before. 

He pulled back, landing one more peck before raising up and letting himself slip from you. You winced, already missing the way he filled you. 

He helped you into your panties muttering “don't want any of that going anywhere.” As you rolled your eyes. Thank God for birth control. 

He took your hand and helped you from the truck, kissing your temple.  

“See ya’ at home sweet thing.” Smacking your ass as you walked ahead of him to your car. 

Yeah, Gator may have been a lot of things. A jerk, asshole, sometimes misogynist (which he was working on, thanks to you) but he only had eyes for you. His sweet girl. 

And you were right about one thing. If anyone else dared to look at you the wrong way he'd kill’m. God help the poor soul who got on the wrong side of your man on a bad day.

[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.

[kassy-djomunson]

we need more gator tillman fic on here. im still not over him

[munsonluhvr]

the divine encounter (18+) - gator tillman x innocent!religious!reader | word count - 2.8k

ᡣ𐭩 part 2

It was in the middle of Sunday mass that Gator Tillman spotted you. You wore a too-short-for-church dress, a snug cardigan covering your upper half. Your hair bounced off your back each time you kneeled, stood up, and kneeled again to pray. You were utterly fascinating from behind, the bounce of your hair mesmerizing, the curve of your body mouth watering. When you turned to shake other church goers hands, following instructions from the priest to share thanks with the congregation, Gator caught sight of your face – angelic. Gator knew he had to have you. 

“Back row of church,” Gator’s father, Roy, mutters under his breath. “All because you had to stare at yourself in the god-damn mirror and make us late for church. Now we have to stand in the back like some common folk.” Roy jabs the flesh of Gator’s ribs with his pointer and middle finger, digging into Gator’s skin until he wriggles away. 

Gator only sighs softly in response, inaudible to his father’s ears. He lets his mind wander to plan what he’ll say to you, occupying his mind away from church’s tedious rituals and his father’s wrath. Quietly, he thanks himself for spending too long in the bathroom and making his family late for church: he never would have spotted you if they were sitting in the front row, like usual, and you were behind him. 

Church finishes with the shake of the choirs tambourine and the high-pitched sound of Gator’s father singing proudly, his wife Karen squeaking along beside him. Gator only played along as religious to please his father; he always felt a million miles away from reality when he attends church with his father, step mother, and half-sisters. 

Gator watches as you and your own family exit the pew, filing into the center aisle in the middle of church. The small congregation mingles throughout the confines of the church, the priest making his rounds too. You have your hands clasped in front of you, a small smile on your mouth as you greet people. You play the role of innocent, your hair tucked behind your ears, cheeks tinted pink, but Gator doesn’t buy it, not for one second. 

Gator turns to tell his father that he’ll be right back, but he notices his father has already left the pew, annoyed with his son’s ogling at the rest of the churchgoers being social. Gator files out of the pew, joining his father and step mother who are gathered in a small group of community members, supporters of his father's. Off to the side, his half-sisters run up and down the steps outside that lead into the back of the church, squealing carelessly. 

With his father occupied, surely for a few minutes, Gator takes the opportunity to approach you. You hang back from your family, eyes wandering to the stained-glass windows that line the walls of the church. How has he never noticed you before? 

“You look bored,” Gator says, coming up from behind you. He startles you, watching your eyes widen when you turn, your gaze lifting to meet his eyes.

“Forgive me, but I don’t find church… stimulating.” You say, re-folding your hands in front of you. You lean against the end of a pew, angling your body towards Gator. You feel pleased, too, when you notice how Gator’s eyes trickle down your body, taking in the shape of your figure. 

Gator chuckles softly, lifting his hands up. “I don’t either but don’t tell my father that.” He lets his body soften, not wanting to show you his sharp edges so soon. 

“Your secret is safe with me,” you say, your voice a low hum. Silence lingers between you and Gator, only the sound of the rest of the church mingling filling the gap in your conversation. 

Gator wipes his hand on his pants, then puts it out in front of you. “I’m Gator,” he says with assertiveness. “Gator Tillman.” 

“Well, Gator, Gator Tillman; it’s nice to meet you.” You say teasingly. Already you were intrigued with Gator’s presence, feeling the urge to run your fingertips across the contours of his strikingly gorgeous face. “I’m y/n.” 

Gator cracks a smile, amused with your sense of humor. Gator had grown tired of the girls in Lehigh; bored of their lack of ambition, their inability to be sexually curious. All they did was lay on their backs, legs parted, letting him use their bodies to please himself. Sure, Gator liked the ability to blow off some steam, take time off to do something other than be yelled at by his father or hunt down law-breaking citizens. But he had grown empty and hollow; he wanted something more, something different. 

“Are you new to Lehigh? I don’t think I recognize you and I know everyone in this town.” Gator asks, his curiosity getting the best of him. 

You nod, leaning forward to gently tug down your dress. As you lean forward, the fabric of your dress puckers, allowing for a clear view into the top of your dress. Gator gulps as he catches the sight of your bra-lessness, and the gold cross necklace that rests on your chest, sparkling against the low-lit lights in the church. You straighten your posture, pretending to be oblivious to the stunt you just pulled. A flip of excitement forms in your lower abdomen. “Brand new. My dad was just transferred to the police department here.” 

Gator raises his eyebrows, attempting to ignore the way his chest thumped against his ribs, the bulge he could feel beginning to grow in his pants. “That’s wild, my dad is the police chief in Lehigh.” 

You coo, crossing your arms against your chest. “I knew your last name sounded familiar. So, you’re the bad-boy they told me to stay away from.” 

Gator frowns now, disappointed that you have already been warned against interacting with him. You sense his demeanor change and you’re quick to do damage control. “I’m kidding. Plus, I don’t listen to my parents anyway.” 

Gator bites at his bottom lip, feeling the need to slip his leather jacket off, the heat of the church becoming overbearing. “Do you want to have a smoke? They’re in my truck.” 

You glance towards your parents who are enthralled in an animated conversation with the priest, obviously occupied and unlikely to notice if you disappear for a few minutes. “Sure.” 

The weather outside is frigid, winter approaching at a fast pace. Your bare skin puckers against the cold air, goosebumps forming on your thighs. You follow closely behind Gator as you make your way to his truck. It’s an older model, a deep blue, or is it a dark brown? He opens the passenger side door for you, closing it gently once you’re sitting in the seat. Gator walks around the car, getting into the driver’s seat. He imagines turning the car on, driving you back to his home, fucking you endlessly until you couldn’t walk – but sitting beside you in his car to smoke would have to do for now. 

Gator leans across your body, fumbling with the glove compartment. The small door drops open, a pile of colorful, empty vape cartridges rattle inside. Gator inches closer, allowing the strong scent of his cologne to radiate off of him. Your eyes flutter, suddenly feeling an intense hunger for Gator in your abdomen. You shift in your seat, allowing Gator to access the glove compartment. 

Gator grasps the vape he had been using before he went into church, and hands it to you to use first. In all honesty, you had never smoked or vaped before. Nonetheless, you took the vape from Gator, grasping the neon green cartridge in your hand, bringing it to your lips and then inhaling. The faux smoke fills your lungs, and you cough, eyebrows knitted in disgust as a light watermelon taste fills your throat. You hold your hand out, returning the item back to Gator. 

Gator laughs, watching you cough. “You don’t smoke, do you?”

You shake your head, attempting to smack away the flavor from your mouth. “No.” 

Gator leans against his seat, his eyes lingering on the hem of your dress that creeps higher and higher on your thighs with each movement you make. Sitting there in his passenger seat, an innocence radiating off of you that he’s convinced is for show makes him wonder how old you are. “How old are you anyway?” 

You blow out between your lips, staring straight forward, knowing there is no use in attempting to make yourself older – you will always look young and innocent. “Nineteen.” 

Gator whistles, taking a hit from his neon green vape. “We got a young one right here.” 

You give Gator a please don’t look which only makes Gator laugh. “I’m just messin’ with you. It’s not like anyone would call the cops. Hell, I am the cops.” You smile, wishing Gator would skip the playful banter and touch you. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you ask, choosing to be unaware that this question is random and forward. 

Gator laughs again, shaking his head. Gator, in all his twenty-seven years of life, had never had a girlfriend; he wasn’t the dating type. Though, he doesn’t feel like admitting that to you. “No.” 

You hum, satisfied. You were pent up, your sexual desires beginning to overrule your rationality. You were a good girl, under the watch over your overbearing, strict parents. You were to save your virginity for the man you marry, and because of that, and other temptations that teenagers face, your parents never let you out of their sight. In your old hometown, the boys were similar to trolls, making it easy to stay celibate. Now, however, sitting beside Gator who’s a man, his wandering eye making it obvious that he was attracted to you, you were no longer convinced your virginity belongs to your future husband – it belongs to Gator Tillman. It doesn’t matter to you that you have just met Gator; God may work in mysterious ways, but sexual desire works even more mysteriously. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Gator hears himself ask. His stomach grumbles in anticipation for your answer. He’s pleased when you shake your head no; mostly he’s pleased he doesn’t have to fight another guy to have you for himself. 

“You’re awfully pretty, you know.” Gator says, his hand reaching out to brush his fingertips across your bare and exposed thighs. The feeling of his skin brushing against yours makes your skin shiver, your core tighten with lust. 

“So are you,” you say, you’re voice coming out lower then you anticipated. Your fingertips toy with the hem of your dress, trying to restrain yourself from your temptations. It’s no use though, your desires overcome your attempts to control yourself. 

You lean across the center console of Gator’s truck, holding on to the side of the driver’s seat chair. You break Gator’s personal bubble, though he’s not complaining, and push your lips into his. Gator his quick to let his fingertips intertwine in your hair, bringing you closer to his body. With one hand, he cradles your face, with the other he places on your hip. You sigh softly against his mouth, the taste of his tongue and the flavor of his vape infiltrating your lips. 

Gator’s heart thumps against his chest, your proposition catching him off guard. The feeling of your small body pressed against his, your mouth working in unison with his - he is sure he has entered through gates of heaven. Moving his hand from your hip, he grasps your forearm, pulling you onto his lap. You make stealthy movements to navigate yourself onto his lap, yet in the process your rear end brushes against the horn, causing you to jolt in surprise. You laugh softly against Gator’s mouth, and you can feel a smile forming on his. 

Now placed comfortably on Gator’s lap, your legs straddling him, you cup his face with both of your hands, deepening your kiss. Gator groans softly, and you can feel him growing hard against your bare legs. Oh, how you want him so bad. 

Acting on impulse, Gator lets his hand wander down the length of your body, his fingertips brushing against your panties. You flush feeling his hand against your most sensitive part, wishing you had picked out more grown-up panties that aren’t so frilly. 

The feeling of Gator inching closer to touching you begins to make your nerves fray, your head spin. This is the farthest you’ve ever gone with someone; what will Gator think of your lack of experience? 

Gator is in his own world, unaware of how your body has tensed the second he put his fingers against your panties. He toys with the edge of your underwear, building up the tension before he plunges his digits inside of you. He has a dying ache to know how you’d feel around his fingers, let alone his cock. With one swift movement, he pushes your panties aside, his fingers finding their way into you with ease. Gator can’t help but smile when you gasp sharply, your lips parting from his. Gator moves his fingers in and out of you rhythmically, moans babbling out of you uncontrollably. 

“Such a good girl,” Gator mumbles, feeling how wet you are beneath your panties. Your arousal dribbles down your thighs, down his forearms. He wonders how you taste, how it would feel to have your thighs wrapped around his head. 

You feel your body relax as soon Gator’s fingers enter you, and you feel your body respond to the pleasure by rolling your hips against his hand. You hold onto his shoulders, your head leaning back in bliss. Gator takes the opportunity to kiss the front of your throat, and down your chest, maneuvering around the gold cross that rests against your chest. ‘Lord forgive me,’ he thinks to himself. Gator’s mind flips to all the other ways he could pleasure you, putting the back seats in his truck to good use. 

You are both in your own world together, not noticing that the rest of the church is beginning to file out the front and side of the building. Your eyes have fluttered shut in pleasure, cracking open occasionally to make eye contact with Gator. It’s then that you notice the side door of the church opening and elderly people begin to exit. You gasp loudly, causing Gator to come back to reality. The bulge in his pants aches, his arousal growing stronger.

“Oh no,” you squeak, climbing off of Gator’s lap. Your cunt feels empty without his long and nimble fingers filling you. You want to know what he cock feels like, how large he is; you just know he’s big. You curse in your mind, hoping that you’ll get a second chance to find out soon.

Gator looks in front of him, letting you get off his lap. His eyes grow wide when he sees his father, still deep in conversation, round the front corner of the church. His heart stops, however, when he sees your father standing in the distance, eyes trained on his truck. “Shit, there’s your dad.” 

You look up, your skin beginning to crawl. You quickly re-adjust your clothes and open the passenger door. “I-I’ve got to go. I’ll see you around, Gator.” You offer a small, flushed smile. You feel like you must look stupid, wide-eyed; surely he could sense your inexperience, right? Unbeknownst to you, all Gator can think about is how beautiful you are, the way your blush creeps across the bridge of your nose, the way your eyes glitter against the sun. Gator can’t wait until the next time he can get his hands on you. 

“Hi daddy,” you say, quickening your pace to reach your father. Just in his body language, you can tell you and Gator weren’t so slick in hiding your activities together. Your father had made it very clear that you were to stay away from Gator Tillman. “That boy is trouble, y/n, and so is his father. We must not get wrapped up in their wrongdoings.” Your father had said when you first moved to Lehigh, his words firm. 

“Princess, what were you doing in Gator’s car?” Your father asks, his suspicions clear on his face. He knew from the second he met Gator that he was trouble, the rest of the police squad confirming his assumptions. Seeing you in Gator’s truck, so smitten so quickly, he knows you and he will be trouble if left alone together. 

“We were just praying together, daddy.” You hum, innocently. Your father’s eyes linger on you, his eyebrows knitting together further and further until the creases on his forehead begin to show. He takes in your messy hair, your flushed cheeks, your disheveled dress-straps. He looks until he can’t take it anymore. 

“Say a rosary as soon as you get home.” Your father grumbles, turning around on his heel, hoping the grace of the Lord can guide you in a better direction. You nod, following close behind him silently.

As you follow your father towards your family’s car, you glance over your shoulder, catching Gator’s eyes one last time. 

[justmeinadaze]

Hey could you write a fic with a chubby plus size reader with Gator Tillman and Michael (Hoard) plzzzz

As you wish... 😘

Push & Pull (GatorXMichaelX Plus Size Y/N)

Warning: Plus size Fem Y/N, Sub/Dom dynamics, degrading (whore, slut), bondage (handcuffs), praise, light spanking, dirty talk, jealous, possessive (kinda toxic) boys, aftercare with a fluffy ending (I guess lol)

Word Count: 1710

Your wide lust filled eyes shifted between both their angry frames as Gator and Michael towered over you while you remained bound with your hands behind your back on your knees.

You had known both men for years but you wouldn’t exactly call them friends which was part of the reason you agreed to this causal relationship the three of you found yourselves in occasionally. 

One drunk night, flirty glances, and a few orgasms in the back of Gator’s cruiser led to an understanding that you were semi friends with all the benefits. 

You three barely even spoke when you met up but you picked up little tidbits from the dirty talk during. In your small town, the officer loved having the power to wield his badge wherever he wished but within his own home however struggled with any kind of control. When he fucked you, he always had you pinned in some way. Whether it be holding your thick wrists above your head or positioning you on your stomach so he could lay his muscular, lean frame on top of your curvy, plump figure as he roughly pounded his hips into yours. 

“You like that don’t you, little slut. You don’t touch me. I control you. You cum because I allow it. I could fill you up and leave you a needy mess. Fuck, baby. So fucking pathetic aren’t you?”

Michael was slightly the opposite in the sense that he could still be forceful and rough but it leaned more towards passionate than anything else. His thick gorgeous hands would constantly roam your body until he was close to his release, clinging to you as if you would disappear. 

“Mmph—fuck. That’s it, love. So fucking beautiful… I’m gonna fill this pussy cause I know she needs it, yeah. Have me leaking out of you as you struggle to walk…feelin’ me for weeks…”

You love it; loved the push and pull of your dynamic with them. Anytime they needed you, you were there whether it be in the middle of a workday or 2 am, you opened yourself willing for them and thanked them for the pleasure. 

There were no rules on seeing other people. Hell, you saw them with women all the time and said nothing. So, when Gator yanked you out of your dates car after pulling him over, you were completely taken off guard. Even more so when he handcuffed you and brought you to Michael’s house instead of the police station. 

As soon as he dragged you in, he tossed you onto the floor where you found yourself now. 

“What were they doing when you found ‘em?”

“Driving. As soon as they left her house, I pulled them over. You think I’d let him get very far with her in the car?”

“Wh-what’s going on?”

“Wh-wh-what’s going on?”, Gator mocked. “Why didn’t you say you were going on a fucking date? Didn’t think we’d catch you?”

“No? I didn’t think about it. We didn’t set that rule—”

The officer roughly took hold of your bicep and tugged you to your feet before shoving you against the wall where both men crowded your space. 

“Look at the little whore here. Really went all out with the tight fucking dress that shows off her tits.”

“And the overwhelmin’ smell of perfume.”, Michael added as his nose pressed to your neck. “Or is that your cunt I’m smellin’?”

Pushing open your legs, his hands roughly slipped under the damp silk of your panties and his eyes widen playfully as he glided his fingers between your folds. 

“Oh yeah. Little girl is so wet.”

Gator’s own fingers took hold of your cheeks, tilting your head to face him. 

“Is that because of us or that pathetic boy who picked you up tonight?”

“You.”

A firm palm slapped your face makes Michael chuckle as he crumbled the bottom of your dress to lift it higher up your curvy frame as his thick digits pressed into your tight entrance. 

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Y/N.”

“I’m not. I p-promise—fuck—I’m not.”

“Then why the fuck were you with that asshole?!” When you took too long to answer, he smacked you again and his friend smirked as he felt your pussy clench at the action. “Answer me!”

“He asked!”

“Oh? Is that all it fucking takes, you little whore.”, Gator growled as he gripped your hair and walked you to his bed where he threw you on to your back. 

Michael climbed onto the mattress above you and yanked off your dress while the officer ripped apart your panties leaving you exposed for both men. 

“You want to act like a little slut, baby, then we can treat you like a fucking slut.” After tossing his vest and gear to the side, you listened as Gator messed with his belt buckle and shimmied his pants to his ankles before grabbing your chunky thighs in his massive hands to pull you closer to him. 

The obscene sound of him spitting into your cunt fills the room and you moan loudly as he aggressively guides his cock inside of you setting a brutal pace.

“Open.”, Michael commands as he taps your lips with his own dick and you oblige as the salty taste of his precum hits your tongue.

“Fuck—look at her. That’s right…take our cocks like a…good…little…whore!”, Gator growled, slamming his length deep inside you between every word causing your eyes to roll as the other boy does little thrusts of his own as he slides effortlessly along your flat tongue. “Do y-you think he can take care of you as well as we have?!”

When you try to shake your head, Michael’s fingers cling to your hair as both boy’s seem to match frequency, pumping into you at the same time causing you to clench and choke over them both. 

“Good—good girl.”

“You’re ours. Do you understand?” The time between the other man pulling out and Gator’s patience is short as he grips your chubby cheeks roughly between his fingers as his hips roughly pound into yours. “I said do you understand?! When I ask you something you fucking answer, little girl.”

“Y-Yes, Sir. I-I understand…oh—”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare cum yet. We’re in charge of you and we decide when you get to cum.”

“Please…”, you whimper, feeling his stern eyes scan over your face as you struggle to control the need to let go. “I’m sorry.”

“Cum, baby. Squeeze my fucking cock when you do.”, the officer whispers as his upper half falls flat on top of you.

You do as he asks, now with permission, and your body trembles underneath him as you come undone. Palms splayed out above your head, he rolls his hips till you feel them sputter and his spend warm your insides. 

You wait patiently for it…the pull that follows the push. 

After Gator tenderly kisses your cheek, he moves out of the way to allow Michael to maneuver you however he wished. Once you both were further up the mattress, he clung to your back and spun you around till you were on top of him, straddling his waist. 

Lifting your body up with your knees, he held his shaft for you as you gradually sunk down onto his length. 

“Mmph, fuck.”, Michael groans as he balances his palms on your hips to help guide you as you steadily begin to bounce. “Fuck, you feel so good, babe. Why would you even want someone else?”

“I-I-I don’t.”

A palm spanked your behind making you wince and on impulse, you picked up your pace. 

“Liar.”, Gator scolds.

Emphatically, you shake your head as you feel the coil begin to wind once more within your belly. 

“You never—mmph—never…”

“Never what, love. Tell us.”

“You never…t-truly m-make me…yours.”

Falling into the nook between his neck and shoulder, you inhaled the man’s cologne and cigarette smell as his hold on your waist tightened and he thrust up into you as you groan in his ear. 

Michael overwhelmed your senses as he pumped his cock firmly inside you at a rigorous pace.

“P-Please, baby, fuck.”

“Yeah? Cum for me, sweetheart.” Holding you tightly to his chest, a string of ahs leave your lips as the coil snaps and your pussy quivers around him. “Fuck, pretty girl. That’s it.”

Continuing to whisper small praises, his grunts of pleasure soon follow as his release spills inside of you. 

As soon as you feel the metal fall away from your wrists, you shakily push up onto your knees as Michael adjusts himself to a sitting position. 

“Jesus, Gator. I fuckin’ told ya we need to stop using your deputy issued cuffs.”, he huffs in annoyance as he takes hold of your wrist and displays the little indents in your skin. 

“She’s fine.”, he replies lightheartedly as he takes your hand and guides you to the shower. 

Once you’re clean and in one of Michael’s large tank tops, Gator places you between them before quickly checking his phone to make sure no one on the force had called or needed him. 

“I see you with girls to.”, you blurt causing them both to glance your way. “I assumed it would be ok to go out on a date because…you’re also seeing other people.”

The officer blinks as he sighs, placing one of his arms behind his head.

“My dad schedules dates for me. ‘Suitable women to start a family with’ he says.”, the man growls as he rolls his eyes. “I fucking hate it. They are so goddamn boring.”

“Same, kinda. Michelle thinks I need ta settle down.”, Michael adds as he turns to face you. 

“Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”, the man countered making you smile. “We’re allowed to be shy, love, but…we do like you.”

“A lot.”, Gator confirms. “We weren’t sure you would want to even be seen with assholes like us.”

“Speak for yourself, mate.”

You giggle at their banter as both men smile at the sound. Scooting towards the officer, you rest your head on his chest as you tug Michael’s arm around your waist. 

“I don’t mind being seen with asshole’s like you.”

##########

Gator Masterlist/Buy me a Ko-fi! ☕

This is my first Michael story so I dont have a masterlist for him :P

[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.”

[stellatekintsugi]

Joe Keery

[fishfooddude]

Pretty Girl (Gator Tillman x Reader)

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Kinktober MasterList

(Divider Credit @strangergraphics)

You were lying on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you heard the front door open. The distinct sound of heavy boot steps followed. “Baby, are you here?” Gator’s voice called from the bottom of the stairs, assuming you were upstairs. 

“In here.” You called, pulling his attention back to the living room. He turned his head and saw you sitting on the couch. He immediately walked around the sofa to hug and kiss you on the forehead. Before you had the opportunity to kiss him, he moved down the couch and lifted your legs to sit under them. You giggled, “Do you not want a kiss?”

“I do, but it can wait, " he said as he rubbed your shins. You shot him a confused look, “Didn’t you hang out with your sister today?” 

When the realization hit you, you couldn’t help but giggle. “I did, Gator,” you confirmed. He was itchin’ in his seat as you spoke. I think you know which color I chose.” You brought your socked feet to his thighs and saw him light up as he moved to remove your socks.

“Fuck baby… look at those,” he muttered as he stared down at your freshly painted white toenails. You giggled as his hands moved to rub your feet. You had to pry the information out of him when the two of you had first gotten together. Gator Tillman, Stark County’s finest officer, has a foot fetish.

It started subtly. He’d offer you a foot rub when you got home from work, justifying it by saying you'd been on your feet all day. Then, as a kind gesture, he started giving you money to get your toes done. Gator wasn’t the kind of guy to perform cunnilingus from the get-go, but after some coaxing, he got into it; it then progressed to him bringing one of your feet to his shoulder and kissing down the entirety of your leg. The delicate kisses he’d place on the side of your foot were your first inclining. 

It was sweet; he really did love every bit of you.

[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. 

[sheisjoeschateau]

american teenagers

Here’s my very own self-written fanfiction, story by me — based on and inspired by FX’s “Fargo” 🖤

xo, misha

***

Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

Childhood friends to rivals to lovers.

ANGST • SLOWBURN ROMANCE • DARK HUMOR • ACTION • HEAVY SMUT WITH HEAVY PLOT 18+ {minor dni}

THE PROLOGUE

You and Gator Tillman were only friends due to circumstances that traced back to early childhood. 

Both of you were convinced that had it not been for both of your corrupt daddies, you two wouldn’t have any need — let alone, any desire — to be around each other.  

Gator was a cocky vape-sucking toolbag who felt the need to prove himself to everyone, mostly himself — most of all, his apathetic father. It drove you nuts. Just the way he wore that smug smirk all the damn time, blowing puffs of Vanilla Coke flavored nicotine into your face with that slicked back hair and douche-wagon looking lightning bolt shaved on the side of his head, was enough to make you eye roll so far back into your head it gave you a migraine.  

You, on the other hand, were a goody-two-shoes and smart alec, convinced that you knew anything and everything under the sun — and all because’a what?  Because you’d been an AP student most of your life with a shot at a cushy college education? You were good at math and savvy shit like that, but also didn’t look like a geek or nerd?  On top of your pride, you had good looks — which in Gator’s mind, was the last thing your little bitch of an ego needed.

Still, you’d grown up together.  The two of you had both seen shit.  Some real shit.  Crazy, illegal, scary shit, that most kids your age wouldn’t even see on a television screen because they had good parents who wouldn’t let that happen.  But you two didn’t get dealt wholesome childhoods, and having each other had gotten you both through a good chunk of childhood traumas.  

Life obligated you both to be friends.  But that didn’t mean you both hated each other.  Well, not completely at least.  You tolerated each other.  Were used to each other.  It felt as if you guys were just an extension of one another, a limb you had to have in order to fully function.  It made for a weird sort of codependency between the two of you, operating on incessant bickering, venting about both your fathers’ dirty work and invading each others’ personal space due to damn near living together over the years. 

So, sure. In some inevitably duty-bound way, you and Gator loved each other.  You just didn’t really like each other.  You got on his nerves, he got under your skin.  You were far more of a nuisance than not, in Gator’s mind.  And he was a sleazy rat who only had good looks on his side.  The two of you knew each other inside and out, better than anyone else ever would, and that was such a fucking bother to you both.  

“Whoever the fuck ends up with you, is the most unfortunate bastard I’ll ever know.”

Gator had griped about that to you a handful of times, only resulting in your coy smirk and a wry hair flip.  It drove him nuts.  You were the biggest pain in the ass.  God forbid you were ever his pain in the ass.  That would never happen.

…that would never happen.

…or so he thought.

***

First chapter coming soon :) fyi…this will be a multi-part series and like it’s not become an entire series sooooo that’s a thing. yeah. and I’m taking tag list requests below 🖤