#shut the fuck up gator

[memingursa]

The people flooding the fargo season 5 tag posting gator fanfic are tasteless cowards worshipping a pitiable and pathetic neo confederate, and the people posting Munch thirst traps and fanfic are braver and more bold than any marine and they will see Valhalla.

[loveshotzz]

The way Gator needs his dick sucked JUST so he can shut the fuck up.

He made me roll my eyes so many times, god he’s truly the worst and I just wanna suck him off because of it 🥰

[laughableillusions]

Beating the shit out of anyone who calls Monty Gator a murderer or smth it wasn’t his fault Bonnie wandered into Monty Golf and then VANNY destroyed him!!!! He was minding his business!!!!!!!

[etherealxwitch]

changing my upcoming gator fic to a steve one!

[attleboy]

i was RIGHT i was RIGHT I WAS RIGHTTTTT AHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHHAAAAA riding this high until i the day i die. new fave. get the fuck out of my way pomni

That damn cameraman is falling asleep again!

[fredricksfuckup]

YAAAY! 'm glad you like it. It isn't much, cuz.. the swamp and all. But that was the shiniest one I could find.

-🐊

“I don't mind. I'll keep anything you happen to give, kiddo.”

[usedtobecooler]

gator tillman has you bent into a mating press, knees practically knocking your skull as he folds you in two, cock prodding you so deep with each relentless thrust you swear he’s in your damn guts.

“listen to ya, screamin’ and cryin’ for me like a good girl, eh?” gator grins from above you, the slaps of skin on skin practically drowning him out as he sinks into your tight heat over and over, “shit, m’i that good for ya, hon?”

“best fuck i ever had, daddy,” your voice cracks, pleading as the word tumbles from your mouth unexpectedly, but you’re so lost in the throes of it that you can’t find it in yourself to even feel embarrassed. you screw your eyes shut, a lump in your throat as you silently plead that he didn’t hear.

“holy— fuck, oh—“ gator’s voice is high pitched, pinched as he looks at you like he’s been wounded, thrusts shallowing as he furrows his brows momentarily, hands gripping desperately at your naked frame.

gator’s hips stutter, blunt fingernails digging into the fat of your thighs as he cums with a broken grunt. you watch in awe as his eyes roll into the back of his head, plump lips parting in a whiny moan as he rides out the last of his release.

you’d found what makes him tick. maybe before he even realised it himself, causing the unexpected reaction.

the next time, he’s prepared for what’s about to come out of your mouth, the way daddy rolls off of your tongue as he fucks you from behind, has you bent onto your elbows with your ass high in the air, face smushed into the pillow.

“that’s it, say it again,” gator groans, large, veiny hand slapping down on the meat of your ass as his hips punch forward, harder, faster, “what am i, hon? huh?”

“daddy, daddy, daddy,” you’re babbling, arching your back and keening into each rough thrust, desperate for more even as he splits you open, open, open.

gator runs his hand up the back of your skull, fingers splaying in your hair, gripping it tight to snap your head back, hard enough your neck pops with it. you’re letting out the filthiest, most disgusting noises, pleading at him with big, wet eyes.

“that’s right,” the grin is vicious, smug and satisfied, laced with sex and desire and the fiery passion in his eyes makes you fucking melt, “i’m your fuckin’ daddy.”

[butterbabyflapjack]

✧˖° Brian Moser x serial killer fem!reader

✧˖° summary:

The Ice Truck Killer’s back in town, and somehow he's stuck babysitting you; Miami's newest would-be killer.

Helping you out wasn't at all his original intention–he'd rather see you dead, you know far too much–but he supposes he could spare an evening to undomesticate that hungry beast inside you. Show you how to really live your life.

In which Brian helps you kill someone who utterly deserves it, and the kill room turns into a horny sex-fueled bloodbath.

✧˖° wordcount (chapter 1): 5k

✧˖° chapters: one, two, three

✧˖° ao3

✧˖° warnings: serial killer fem!reader, reader insert, explicit sexual content, rough sex, passionate sex, fucking in a kill room, dark romance, dark comedy, canon typical depictions of blood and gore, enthusiastic consent, mutual pining, impact play, playing with your food, serial killers in love, banter, dirty talk, voice kink, trauma bonding, babysitting a serial killer, implied sexual abuse of a child (you're killing this mf don’t worry), torture (you’re torturing this mf don’t worry), Brian is his own warning, enemies to lovers, biting, daddy issues?, blood play, a bit of angst a dash of bloodlust & a heavy splash of spice, Brian loves to fluster you and he won't shut the hell up going about it, Brian survives season 1 in this house

✧˖° author's note:

This is ridiculous, horny, bloody, silly and dark (in essence, a very dark romantic comedy), so please heed the tags!

Starts after season 1, but with Brian escaping. Sorry if there’s any rough spots, I kinda rushed editing this.

ch.1 is from Brian’s POV, and the rest of the story is from yours. And there aren't nearly enough problematic female characters in the world so I'm making you one 😃

✧˖° chapter 1

Hello again, Miami. 

Didn’t think I’d see you again this soon.

What’s it been? Eight months? Since I was your most highly sought after criminal?

Guess I just couldn’t stay away.

Time flies when you’re laying low.

Guess I just missed you.

But really, my reason for coming back to dear old Miami–my home, both my real and spiritual birthplace–has a name, a life, and a face. Your name, if you’re really so curious. Your life. Your face. And I intend to leave what remains of all three of those things behind to the hungry bellies of gators before once more absconding stage left. 

But why, you might ask? Why do I want to kill you? Horrified, scandalized, even. For what reason had you to die by my skillful hand? And the answer to that is simple: death doesn’t need a reason. Death simply is, and I simply enjoy it. 

Though…

Regardless of that irrefutable fact…

I’ll admit. 

This particular death–your death–has a slightly more personal reason. And that reason, or at least its causation, was currently chit-chatting with me on the phone.

“Your plane lands at eight?” Dexter asked, and I didn’t waste time with a nod when he wouldn’t see it. Simply staring out across the coast of Costa Rica, the sunset reflected within the dark shadow of my gaze.

Costa Rica… and I’d really wanted to retire somewhere cold.

Not that this was retirement.

It was more of an… unplanned, involuntary vacation. Just until the heat from the feds cooled down.

Then again, I wasn’t waiting for the temp to drop before planning this little excursion back to Miami. But you’d sorta forced my hand in that regard, now hadn’t you?

“Hope you don’t mind if I crash on the couch,” I said, good-natured, and I knew he wouldn’t object. My brother couldn’t feel much–much more than myself–but I sensed a sort of guilt in him for how he’d previously driven me off those eight months ago. Choosing a fake sibling over a real one, one who actually knew who he was… I’d say the guilt had good cause.

I could hear him at his quaint living room/office combo’s computer, typing away at something. Perpetually Distracted Dexter.

“Yeah–yeah, that’d be great,” he said. 

I exhaled a little sigh whilst listening to the soft waves roll in beside me. “Why do I feel there’s a but coming?”

“No buts,” said Dexter. “I just, uh…” He seemed distracted, but not by whatever he typed. “I’ll just have a friend over tomorrow. She’ll probably be here when you arrive.”

Ah.

The friend.

The one I’d been silently wishing Dex would just kill himself. Grow suddenly bored of you.

Wishful thinking.

He seemed quite fond. 

He wouldn’t shut up about you. Always and forever droning on.

It wasn’t romantic, this interest, or so I’d come to suspect over all these past droning months. I didn’t exactly ask about that, though, half because I really didn’t care and half because of how much the subject of you annoyed me, raised over and over again and ugh, just give it a rest already. 

Dex shouldn’t have ‘friends’. The mere concept a fairytale, a mask to people like us. It should be just he and I, two hunters against the world, hunting whomever we like.

“Ah,” I voiced aloud, with the sugar-flaked pleasantry of someone who wasn’t at all picturing severing your aorta with an icepick. “Your little friend will be there to greet me. How nice.”

Dexter must have misread the edge of sarcasm as some sort of concern. “She already knows you’re coming. Don’t worry, she can be trusted.”

Just more proof that my do-good, misguided brother is far too trusting.

“Well,” I said, as though accepting this point as fact. You really can be trusted with my and my brother's secrets–such relief! “I look forward to finally meeting her.” And carving and slicing and dicing her.

I must have forgotten to include that last part out loud, and thus Dexter had no objection–even sounding strangely relieved by my show of good faith in at long last having this introduction.

“See you tomorrow night,” he said, and my lips formed a little smile–instinctual, without any warmth.

“See you then,” I said, then hung up.

And now; here I am. Back in the ever-enchanting sunshine state. My former playground of frozen, meticulously broken toys, and it feels much more like home to be back than I even expected, with just the small matter of ridding you from these sentimental, familial walls.

Walking the concrete pathway to Dex’s Palm Terrace place was nearly surreal, assaulting the walls of my person with waves of distant memories. I’d broken into his beachfront apartment so many times before. Snooping around, getting to know him. Leaving gifts tied up with little red bows. I was basically murderous Saint Claus.

I had only one bag, having traveled here light–a black leather crossbody, which I thumbed the broad strap of whilst knocking with mild knuckles against the door.

Silence. Then, footsteps. Then–

Dexter throws open the door, a smile formed ear to ear like a big, goofy animal. 

“Brian,” he says, and somehow it melts me. Chips slightly away at all that frigid, cold frost round my cruel, vacant heart. And his eyes dip over the state of me. The longer hair, dark curls well past my ears, now; just long enough to tuck back but not long enough to stay there. The dark scruff which coats my angled jawline in the absence of shaving for so long.

“Dig the beard,” Dexter says. “Quite the disguise. Bet the ladies love it.”

I smile at the compliment, though if he'd hated the look I'd feel much the same. “One does what one has to to effectively blend,” I return. And it’s hard not to feel somewhat warm, somewhat seen, understood, by my brother before me. The only person in this world who accepts who I am.

Well, not wholly.

Thanks for nothing, Debra.

Still. Since the death of our mother, Dex is the only place I’ve ever belonged, and seeing him now I’m abruptly struck with just how long it’s been.

I don’t wait for him to welcome me in–he’s probably too cordially stunted to properly welcome me, anyway. I just step right up and throw both my arms around him, my baby brother, my other half; cuffing him firmly on the back as I breathe him in.

“It’s been too long,” I say, holding him there for a moment, before pulling back.

Dexter’s expression is torn into a million indecipherable things, but amongst them is his affection for me. The brother who’ll always see him for who he really is. Who truly fathoms that insatiable beast inside him.

The bliss of our reunion’s forced to end, however, because this house has a rat problem. And as I hear a small, feminine throat being cleared from the fluorescent-lit depths behind my brother, my curiosity gets the better of me.

Time to finally put a face to the name I’ve been loathing for weeks.

And there you are. Standing before a metal-limbed armchair nuzzled inside the living room, like you’d sat there then stiffly stood up; uprooted at the sound of my knocking. Frozen, now; lingering. Like you’re caught in a trap you don’t know your way out of. Hands fidgeting as they twist at the hem of your shirt. 

It’s like you know you don’t belong here–that this moment is Dexter’s and mine–and for the cleverness of that, at least, I must inwardly applaud you. Though that’s decidedly where all my praise ends.

This is one of those social situations I’ve learned so well to navigate through life in the foster system, masking my aberrance. Awkwardness. Other people’s–not mine. And though I could so effortlessly put you at ease as you stand there fidgeting, I find it more entertaining to draw that part out. For a while, at least.

I must admit, I hadn’t pictured you at all in my head. What you’d look like. Not as anything more than an aggravating, compromising blip I’d soon snuff out the threat of. But if I had pictured you, I wouldn’t have imagined you looking, so…

…Well.

You’re not…

Unnatractive. 

I feel one dark brow slowly raising.

And you’re only a friend…?

Whatever must poor Rita think? Seeing the two of you together?

Dexter. You dog.

My eyes trace your expression as you awkwardly hover there in the length of my speculative pause. Myself perfectly content to allow you to hang there in a noose of discomfort all night, and then some. Though eventually I know one of us will have to say something.

This is our fated and much anticipated formal introduction, after all.

So at what feels like long last, I throw you the lifeline that is my smarmiest smile. Knowing full well you won’t know it’s not real. No one but Dex ever does.

“And you must be the friend I’ve heard so much about,” I greet you pleasantly, my deep voice threaded with warmth. Though, peculiarly, that unsure tension in you remains stubbornly in place. Seems if anything only to grow, despite my intent to disarm it. 

Huh.

Oh well–it doesn’t deter me. Killing you will be so much easier if you don’t see it coming, so I’m keen on you liking me, letting your guard down. Thus, I graciously continue:

“You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to finally having you right in front of me.”

Maybe a bit of truth will lube you up. And I watch as your lower lip’s sucked in between your teeth for just a moment whilst you eye me; the motion drawing my studious gaze like a shark’s to blood. 

“And why is that?” you ask, which admittedly I wasn’t expecting. Such a nervous mouse, yet you’d put me on the spot.

I can’t place your nerves. I’m perfectly charming. And yes, you’re aware I’m the notorious Ice Truck Killer, but I’m not sure why that would be alarming. Not with the company you keep; namely, my murderous brother. So it must be something else.

And I so hate not knowing things.

“So I can be introduced to you in person, of course,” I say, like it’s obvious, and it should be. Striding in past Dexter as he steps aside to allow me in, shutting and latching the door behind us all; a roomful of killers, or so I’ve been told.

Our eyes never stray in my steady approach; not yours, not mine. My height soon towering over yours, which isn’t unusual for me when meeting new people, nor when standing near almost anyone. Offering my hand and a smile I’ve been told is quite dashing. “Dex has had such wonderful things to say about you.” And I’m sure he has, I just couldn’t be bothered to remember any of them.

My smile could melt steel as if it was butter.

“I’m Brian.”

I won’t lie, I expected you to crumble. Most women love this move. The confidence, the approachable self-assurance. But you eye my outstretched hand as though I might pull you into the fires of hell with me were you to take it, before craning your neck to meet my gaze once more.

“Charmed,” is all you say; unmoving.

Something about that irks a small ripple up my nape, but I just allow my hand to drop graciously back to my side. All practiced, svelte charm still in place. It’d take a lot more than that to dischevel me.

“So,” I say, by all appearance unconcerned by the lack of civility in my brother’s ill choice of friends. “It almost feels like I already know you, what with the way Dexter’s gone on and on.”

Your gaze steals over to Dexter, hovering there in the distance behind us, before you smile up at me again in a way which feels forced. And I suppose you’re not the talkative sort, though why you keep glancing at Dexter as if waiting for something from him, as if he’ll swoop in and save you, I’m uncertain about.

In due time I’ll figure it out.

“But there’s still one thing I’m curious about,” I say, turning to make myself comfortable. It has been a long trip to get here, after all. 

I plop down like a wolf amongst sheep atop Dexter’s hideous couch, legs spread like I own the damn food chain. One arm draped out along the length of its backrest as I eye you somewhat expectantly, still rigid in how you stand. Imagining what you might look like strung upside down by your ankles with a lengthy strap of duct tape kissing those soft lips, holding them shut for me. 

The shadows beneath my eyes pinch.

It’s a lovely image.

Maybe you’ll see for yourself.

“And what’s that?” Dexter asks–bravo, Dexter–at least one of you’s courteous enough to ask. And I tilt my darkly curled head at him.

“How exactly did the two of you get to know one another?” I ask. Watching him. Eying you. Hoping my focus might rattle you–just a little. “I’m sure it’s an interesting tale.”

“I’ve already told you,” Dexter says, and he probably has, at least in his unabbreviated sense. “We work together at the precinct.” He dons his playful tone I often find so silly but right now I find I detest. “The lab geek and the cop~”

“Right. But that’s not what I mean,” I slice into his futile comedy routine, “What I mean, is: how did our friend here come to know you’re one of Miami’s most heinous, uncaught serial killers?”  

The other, of course, being myself; excepting the whole uncaught thing.

Dex is lucky I’m so forgiving.

I put it forth bluntly, with little room for either one of you to wiggle out of answering. And though my radiance of charisma remains, my intensity’s keen. ‘Cause I must admit; now that I’m here, I’m curious about you. Especially when you seem like such a rabbit in a household of jackals. Weren’t you supposed to be some like-minded killer or something? Perhaps I should have paid closer attention whenever the unwanted topic of you had come up in mine and Dexter’s conversations, instead of bitterly tuning you out. 

Strangely, Dexter doesn’t seem to know what to say, and neither do you. Like the story’s too long, too elaborate. As though there's pieces the two of you’d rather omit. 

Fascinating.

“She helped me out,” Dex says at last; monotonously shallow, like the words aren’t even his, like he's rehearsed this. “In a time of need.”

I quirk a subtly mocking brow at him from where I’m idly lounged on the couch. 

“Why do you sound like a generic thankyou card?” Why, indeed. “C’mon, baby brother–I want specifics. You can tell me.” My dusky gaze passes from him to his lovely, curious friend, hovered opposite the ugly coffee table before me. “We’re all friends here, right?”

It would seem that my smile unnerves you. Which might be annoying if it wasn’t so entertaining a thing to see.

Dexter sighs before trying a more human answer, leaning one bulky shoulder against his white, open-backed bookcase that separates his living room from the office attached. 

This whole effectively communicating thing is hard for him.

“It was sort of an accident,” he says, like that’s far more telling. The lacking details seeming to spur you to chime in. 

“It was really just me being in the wrong place at the right time,” you elaborate, with the passive front of one pretending the ice they walk on won’t at any moment begin to splinter. Folding your arms against that pensive look I toss you, which I tilt my head in silent question of. Why so nervous? I’m far from daunting, aren’t I? 

“I was called to check out an anonymous tip,” you continue, averting your gaze from me far more often than one normally does. “Some sort of suspicious activity at an abandoned storage shed near Palmetto. Myself and my parter.” 

You glance at Dex, as if he might continue the tale for you, might rescue you from this, but when he merely quirks a little smile with a similar shrug, you’re forced into proceeding.

“It was supposedly related to a case–which it wasn’t, not that that matters, but…” You let out a breath. Seeming to steady yourself, the recollection, though for all your nervous fidgeting your tone is surprisingly calm. “I walked into the storage shed, it was unlocked, and… And I saw Dexter. Sawing someone’s arm off. Someone who was strapped down to a table in a plastic fucking tutu.” 

You glance at Dex, as he detachedly watches you. 

“Someone I knew from a previous case,” you continue. “Someone who deserved whatever it was Dexter was doing, and much more than that, too. Which is exactly when I shut that fucking door and assured my partner there was nothing to see here, and we left. Left Dexter to do what he does, undisturbed.”

That’s the end of your story, and I picture the scene, all while some predatorily protective part of me insists on clarifying, “So… That’s it? You saw my brother chopping a man into pieces, and were immediately okay with it? Go Team Dexter? Just like that?”

I try very little to hide my disbelief, ‘cause I don’t buy it. In my experience with cops, and I’ve had plenty, you all tend to be such sticklers when it comes to casual bloodshed and carnage. What’s more, your uptick in nerves isn’t exactly selling me.

My lashes lower in my deliberate examination of you. “Why’d you really not turn my dear brother in?”

In lieu of answering, you once more eye Dex, and that look between you says something.

“It’s complicated,” you say at last. Like you’re waiting for Dexter to speak, but he’d rather wait on you.

The pair of you. Really. You’re like a couple of tongue-tied, helpless kittens. Must I string this conversation on for you?

“Enlighten me,” I say, with something of an edge.

Perhaps I should’ve kept the disarmingly fake smile, because if anything you thrust your guard up.

“Look, I don’t owe you a full explanation of what Dexter and I have been through, okay?”

“Oh, I beg to differ,” I viperously put forth, my pretense of pleasantry slipping. “Seeing as how you know so much about myself. And all without my express knowledge or permission.”

An impermanent issue. One I won't leave Miami without personally seeing resolved. You know far too much–you’re an issue. For Dexter’s sake and for mine, we must unfortunately bid you bon voyage.

“I’d say it’s only fair I know a little more about you,” I continue, cordiality slipped back in place. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

The delicate line of your jaw tautens, eyes wavered with wariness and doubt. Refusing to spit out any more, though the longer you’re subject to my critical appraisal, the more the twine of your stubbornness unwinds.

“I… I need someone dead,” you admit at last.

Ah.

There it is.

“And, after seeing Dexter doing… what he does…” You bite your lower lip, as though struggling to recollect straying thoughts. “I need his help. I need his help to kill someone.”

I take my time mulling about your words. Piecing together the part you still aren't saying.

“So… You won’t turn Dexter in, so long as he helps you kill someone. Did I get that right?” 

You bite down harsher–immediately shake your head. “No, it’s–it’s more complicated than that!” 

But by now I’m barely listening. Turning instead to lift a wry brow at my brother, who’s watching this whole fiasco with a can-I-please-leave-yet look plastered upon his face.

“This is the friend you’ve been telling me about?” I wonder vaguely. “The cop who’s blackmailing you into helping her kill someone?”

“I’m a detective,” you cut in, like that matters, like I care, and I feel my eyes already rolling.

“Detective,” I sarcastically amend, with a scathing glance at you. “So sorry to offend, Detective Whoever-You-Are. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m talking to my brother.”

When you mutter back your name under your breath, I make a show of ignoring it.

“So, what?” I instead ask my foolish, good-hearted kin. “You’re actually going to help her kill someone?” 

His lack of answer’s enough. And at his arms-folded silence, I ruminatively tut my tongue.

“Doesn’t seem like you, Dex… Not the edict-ruled brother I know.” I try not to let my tone grow too ingratiating whilst goading, “What about your beloved code?” 

Dexter exhales a stiff breath. Putting forth, “It’s more than that.”

“More?”

“Like she said, it’s complicated.”

“Has the word ‘complicated’ been redefined as ‘indescribably moronic and impossible to explain’ sometime in the last fifteen seconds?” I return, incredulously flat. Eying their strange and stilted silence with dwindling patience. “What aren’t the two of you telling me…?”

You’re biting your lip like you’re biting back words, and I watch, waiting, biding my time for those bit-back words to get the better of you–though surprisingly, it’s Dexter who breaks first. 

“It’s nothing about that, it’s…” He rubs the back of his sand-colored head, roughing his hair up with tense distraction. “Well, it is about that, in a sense. I didn’t know how to bring this up. I just… I have to leave town for the weekend,” he finally gets out. “First thing tomorrow morning, I’m headed out.”

I’m too nonplussed to hide the creeping edge of my bemusement.

That’s what he’s been having trouble saying?

He drops this like it’ll land like a bombshell on our entire reunion, before rushing at whatever my bland expression, “It’s just for a few days. I’ll be back Monday bright and early.”

To be honest, I’m mostly confused about why this seemed so hard for either one of you bumbling idiots to tell me. Or why you’re bumbling about it at all. Why should I care if he’ll be gone for forty-eight more measly hours after we've been separated for almost a year? And for many, many years before that? Does he actually expect me to mourn him till Monday?

“Big plans with the family?” I venture coolly, and Dexter’s broad shoulders bunch into a shrug, as though he’s cornered and a shrug is all that might save him.

“It’s a whole thing,” he explains. “Cody has a scouting trip, then Rita wanted to make a whole weekend out of it with the grandparents–I’ll spare you the details.”

Yes, thank you for that.

Dexter the family man. It’s so sweet it’s nauseating.

“So you’re taking your fake kids camping so you can keep playing domesticated dad to a woman and children who’d hate you if they knew who you really are?” My smile’s so feigned it hurts. “Sounds like a great time.”

My brother, the shrugger, shrugs once again. Doesn’t even try to defend my interpretive accusation. “I gotta be there.”

“Well have fun on your little adventure,” I muse; side-eying him. “Not sure why it took you this long to tell me. I’m sure I’ll find some way to busy myself in the meantime.”

You and Dexter exchange that look again. That look which betrays how you still haven’t shared whatever’s so lodged down your throats and wherever this is really going, and by this point it’s driving me toward wanting to just rip open your necks to drag whatever it is out, myself.

“Well, actually,” my brother begins, struggling once more with saying things. “I’ve already got an idea that’ll keep you busy in mind.”

I steady him in the crosshairs of my vision. Well. Now we might be getting somewhere. And I can’t deny my interest, much like my frustration, is piqued. 

“Oh?”

“A favor, really,” he adds, without elaborating, and I really am going to rip the words right out of him.

“Are you going to tell me what that favor is?” I’m finally forced to ask, before glancing exasperatedly at you. “Or perhaps I should defer to your translator?”

There you go, nervously rubbing that elbow again, though I find myself oddly mesmerized by the motion of it. I can’t say for what cause, other than I’m not blind, and you’re obviously attractive. Watching you anxiously stand there is becoming one of my favorite pastimes.

“I, um,” you mumble, so quietly I almost can’t hear you. A nervous mouse again, one my nature is stirred to chase. “Well. Dexter was going to help me with–you know… What I was saying before. We have everything planned for tomorrow, and it has to happen tomorrow.” You seem strangely adamant about this, and I don’t care enough to question the ‘why’, just as I don’t care for the ‘who’–I’ll take your word for it. “But, um, with Dexter out of town…”

Helpless, as if to say any more’s an impossible task, you glance to Dexter for support.

“Really, the two of you,” I lowly muse. Eyes glistening between the pair of you, alight with my wicked amusement. Stretching out more broadly on the throne of Dexter’s hideous couch. “You could almost put a full sentence together so long as you tag one another in after every breath.”

The taunt’s enough to unlodge wherever Dexter’s tongue’s at. 

“I need you to help her kill this guy while I’m gone,” he finally says bluntly. Arms folded, expression stern, yet hinted by what may as well be him begging me, which in itself, is…

Well. He’s never asked me for anything. Not like this. Though I certainly don’t owe him any favors…

“I know you know how to set up a proper kill room,” he states, and he should–he’s seen my imitation of his plastic-drenched kill room, firsthand. I’ve studied his work more than anyone. Emulated it to perfection, and all for a happily-ever-after he refused to take part of, spat cold in my face.

For a moment, I feel almost human in how I can’t seem to react or respond to this request. Though as I watch the mirrored hope in you both, as the idea of this slowly settles, I find that it doesn’t completely bore me…

My eyes drift to you. Singling you out. Stringing round your anxious expression. And you’ve mettle, at least, to not look away from the barbs of my musing intensity.

So. This is why you’ve been acting so sheepishly inept. You need big bad Brian’s help with something.

It’s laughably cute, the idea of you killing, and already I know I’m going to do it. But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t make you sit in it a little. Take my time in toying with you, first.

“You want me to babysit your blackmailing little friend here,” I say to Dex, with raven-dark eyes still on you, “while she attempts–and correct me if I’m wrong here–her first kill?” 

I can tell you can feel how my gaze is dissecting you. Pulling apart, piecing together, assessing every piece and shape and shade of you. It makes you squirm, and I love it; sparing a moment to slide my tongue over the sharpness of my teeth as I feast on such a beautiful reaction. 

I turn back to Dex. “What makes you think she’s even capable?”

“I’m capable,” you insist, drawing my gaze again. And even through those nerves roused in my presence, you appear quite convinced of it. 

Interesting. 

“I can do this,” you again allege. With such frail confidence, but confidence nonetheless. “I just… need a little help.”

I tamp down the rearing head of my inquisitiveness. Ensure my interest remains vague in how I lackadaisically eye you. 

“Help with what, exactly?” I slowly ask. And it’s not a no, which I’m amused to see is so surprising.

You blink a few times, eyes growing wider, more determined–before you’re explaining, quickly, as though whatever luck this is may run out.

“Getting him to the kill site,” you say succinctly, with all the puffed-up bravado of a fluffy little rabbit pretending that they’ve slayed a fox before, and it really is amusing. “Moving the body. Clean-up.”

I let my watchful silence drag on. Held in supposed indecisive contemplation. Should I? Should I? Until, when I can nearly hear your fretting heartbeat, I feel one corner of my lips slowly quirk up. Watching every minor movement of you like a fox might a meal, might a rabbit, and find I really wouldn’t mind taking a bite. 

“Don’t need help doing the deed, then?” I subtly ask you.

Your eyebrows flicker to a knot. Lips pressing flat, before you shake your head at me. “No.”

“You sure?” I further goad, with silken smoothness. Loving those little cracks of hesitation along your lovely surface so much I’m inclined to hammer in even more of them. “‘Cause I won’t kill him for you. You have to do that, yourself. And what’s more, if you for any reason chicken out on me and can’t follow through with all this…” I calmly smile. “I’ll simply leave you there all alone with whatever maddened mess of whoever this man you’ve left behind.” The idea of it sparks a delicious flame somewhere deep below my cavernous lack of heart. “After ensuring he’s woken up, first, of course. Aware. Pissed off. Untied.” 

I smile my cheshire smile as that resolve in you flickers in place; the smallest glow, so nearly snuffed out already. 

“So?” I spur in your uncertain silence. “Do we have a deal, little killer?”

And still, you hesitate. Seeming to weigh my words with care, along with the cost of your own, which I certainly appreciate. You’re not as stupid as I’d originally believed, in any case.

At long last, you nod, but I don’t move, don’t even blink from how I wolfishly watch you from my throne of Dexter’s couch. Not until you say the words out loud. And you will, if you want my help. You have to.

If that’s a flash of resentment within those pretty eyes of yours, it only causes my broadening smirk.

“Fine,” you say at last, after thickly swallowing. “We have a deal.”

And surely light must dance in my entertained eyes as I bite back just how pleased I am by this answer. 

This should be fun.

✧˖° chapter 2

[itsthecline]

i would love to learn more about maybank!reader being kidnapped by rafe like what happened? why’d he do it? when did it happen? how did his family react? did they know? how did jj and the pogues react?

GIVE ME A MINUTE

WE ARE SO FUCKING OVER!

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ summary requested!

warnings 18+ minors dni , profanity , kidnapping / drugging , violence

rafe had the fucking cross. after all that you had gone through in the day with pope nearly dying , crashing kie’s dad’s truck , john b fighting a gator , finding out jj ran into your dad , you were tired. but the night wasn’t over until you got the cross back for pope.

your eyes stayed on sarah and john b , who were clearly having a moment after their somewhat breakup. “you seriously think now is the time to talk about this?” sarah whisper yelled at him , giving him a look that called him stupid.

before jj could stop you , you headed in her direction and yanked her with you. “we have things to do. come on,” you grunted , heading towards tannyhill. when the two of you were far enough away from the boys you looked at sarah with a small smile. “he really does love you. enough to make him stupid,” you chuckled , making your way to the truck.

“i know,” she sighed , peeking into the driver’s seat, “we gotta find the keys though,” she added , getting back to business.

you nodded , not seeing them in the truck like you were hoping. “looks like we have to go inside,” you grimaced , knowing rafe was in there , knowing he would not be happy to see you like he usually was.

sarah looked over her shoulder to the boys quickly updating them that, “we’re going inside! we’ll be right back!” before ushering you into the house with her close behind. you both kept a lookout before moving too far into the foyer. “okay , i have to go find wheezie really quick— she’ll help us distract rafe. you find the keys , okay?”

you watched sarah plot for a moment on the situation before nodding in agreement. “just be safe. don’t want rafe flipping out on you again,” you warned her , holding her hand before letting go and rushing away.

the first obvious place to check was rafe’s room. you had been there so many times , it was easy to avoid the creaks in the floor on the way to his bedroom door. you had been lucky not to see anyone yet. so , quietly your hand twisted at the golden knob before cracking the door open as slow as possible.

after the copious amount of times you snuck into tannyhill , you knew better than to let rafe’s old door creak when you opened it. as soon as the opening was wide enough for you to slip in , you did , closing the door softly behind you , shutting yourself inside.

and that’s when you heard the shower stop running , making you blood run cold. now was not the time to bump into rafe. not when the boys were outside , not when sarah was upstairs , and not while he had the cross you were absolutely trying to steal back from him. that wasn’t an option.

your eyes darted around the room you were so familiar with , catching a glimpse of the nightstand that had the keychain sitting on top of it. you could still hear rafe in his en suite bathroom , so you rushed to grab the keys. they clanked against the wooden stand , causing you to cringe at the disturbance of quiet. “shit,” you cursed as they slipped out of your hand and into the floor , making even more of a ruckus as the bathroom door opened wide.

there was nothing else to do in that moment other than freeze. caught like a deer in headlights , you looked up and saw rafe standing in the doorway , towel around his hips , chest heaving and already looking down at you. you were crouched down , actively reaching for the keys again.

“what are you doing here?” oh. he’s playing it safe. he raised his eyebrows at you as he bent over , slowly grabbing the keys from the floor. he stayed low , looking into your eyes for a moment before rising completely and taking the keys with him to his dresser.

you took a deep breath and stood up , trying to gauge how this was going to go. “sarah was complaining about missing something the other day , so i thought i could come by and grab it,” you lied , watching him as he got dressed, “heard you in the shower and stopped in while i could. missed you,” you added , stepping closer to rafe before reaching out and touching his damp back.

his skin twitched under the contact. “yeah?” he chuckled , turning around with a smile, “came in here just for me?”

“what else?” you asked , matching his smile as you leaned up to press a kiss into his cheek before retreating back a few feet.

“you’re not here because you know i have the cross?” rafe questioned , stepping forward , effectively forcing you back toward his bed, “not here to steal my fucking keys? and take off with the cross that i found!” he shouted , trapping you where you were pressed against the edge of his bed frame.

your eyes betrayed you , flashing a vulnerable fear in them when he yelled. “no , baby,” you shook your head quickly just like your voice, “no , of course not.”

“stop lying to me!” again , rafe’s voice practically rattled the window panes, “you shouldn’t have fucking come here , y/n! you’re so fucking stupid. should’ve just minded your business! constantly forcing my hand to do things i don’t want to do!” he continued getting dressed , throwing a jacket on.

“rafe , you’re scaring me,” you admitted , sinking into the mattress in an attempt to get away from him.

a low chuckle came from his throat as he turned and looked at you. “this isn’t my fault,” he started, “you—“

“rafe! can you come help me pack my bag?”

wheezie.

your chest deflated , finally able to catch a breath when rafe moved his eyes to the door where wheezie was bound to walk through in a moment. “here , baby. you can have the keys to the truck,” rafe smiled , tossing the keys at you before going to the door and stepping into the hallway before wheezie got to you both.

you caught the keys , pushing yourself up off the bed and rushing to the door. the knob giggled in your hand as you tried to open it , but the locked clicked into place on the other side. “have to do everything for you people,” rafe grumbled to his little sister before you could hear his footsteps getting quieter.

“fuck! fuck , fuck , fuck,” you grumbled , hand hitting at the door, “rafe , let me the fuck out right now!” you yelled , banging against the door even harder , keys still jingling in your hand.

“y/n?” sarah’s voice came out worried and rushed through the door, “y/n/n , are you in there?” her hand tapped against the wood on the other side of yours.

“sare? sarah , i can’t get out. you have to pick the lock or something,” you explained , turning to look for something on your side of the door to help.

“okay , it’s okay,” sarah assured you, “i got you.”

you could here some sort of rattling on her end , assuming she found something to jam inside the lock to get you out. “i got the keys!” you smiled with a sniffle , trying to look at the bright side , but you knew it wasn’t long until rafe returned to his room and caught sarah this time.

the lock clicked , sliding out of place before sarah pushed it open. “oh , my god!” she breathed out , yanking you in for a hug before you both ran out of the room, “gimme the keys , and let’s go.”

you tossed her the key chain , following her out of the house and back to the truck. “what’re you doing?” you whispered when sarah kept moving to the back.

“i wanna make sure it’s still in here,” sarah explained , fumbling with the keys before finding one that fit into the lock on the back door.

“okay , well hurry it up before rafe finds both of us,” you urged her , checking over your shoulder for any sign of him. as if your words triggered the reaction , the lock undid itself , and sarah pulled the door open before stopping. “what is it?”

you moved to take a look yourself only to freeze just like sarah did , keeping eye contact with the man you saw in the truck with rafe earlier. he laid lifeless on the ground next to the cross , eyes boring into your own. “what did he do?” you sighed , assuming rafe was the one who killed the man. who else would’ve?

“you guys really shouldn’t have done that.” it was rafe’s voice that came from behind you just before you felt his arms wrap around you and a sharp pinch in the side of your neck. his hands released you , letting you stumble away as your hand reached up to you neck.

“rafe?”

he didn’t bother looking at you , only dropping the now empty syringe to the ground and grabbing sarah. you could only watch as sarah struggled against her brother’s grip , feeling time slow and your heart beat much harder than it was before. “rafe , what are you doing?” she kicked at him , but it wasn’t a fair match.

the last thing you saw was rafe dragging sarah back inside before you stumbled back and tripped. your arms flew back , trying to catch your fall , but there you laid on the ground almost as lifeless as the man in the truck.

you don’t remember anything as you wake up , but the moment your eyes open , you know where you were. the way the mattress sank beneath and around you , the feel of the silk pillow case under your head. you were in rafe’s room. again.

you sat up quickly , looking around to see if sarah was locked in with you , but you were alone. throwing the comforter off of your body , you swung your legs off the edge of the bed. “rafe?” you spoke quietly but loud enough to where he would hear you if he was in the area, “babe? what’s going on?” you called out a little louder but sweeter when you didn’t get a response.

“rafe!” your voice was louder this time , a little angrier when you realized he had left you in the room alone. “rafe cameron , let me out of this room! help! wheezie? rose!” you roared , running to the door to try and open it. you shoved your body against the wood , trying to break it down as if that would ever happen. “rafe!” you called out again far weaker than before.

catching your breath , you moved back to the bed to stabilize yourself. your head was still fuzzy with whatever rafe shot you up with. you sat down , head hanging low as you tried to think everything through.

rafe gave you a shot.

he took sarah inside.

you woke up in his room.

you were alone.

sarah wasn’t with you.

you steadied yourself again before standing up from the bed , moving to the door the bang on it more. “sarah! sarah , where are you?” you shouted , the door muffling your cries, “sare?”

there wasn’t a response. only the quiet hum of the air conditioning filling the heavy space around you. you slid down against the door , falling to the floor in defeat. you couldn’t get out of rafe’s room by yourself last time ; sarah helped you , and where did that get her?

your eyes scanned the room , catching sight of the flowers you had brought rafe not that long ago as an apology for your last fight. you apologized to him , and this is what he does next?

pushing yourself up , you move to the fireplace and grab the vase before launching it at the bedroom door. that would cause concern if your yelling hadn’t already. “rafe , let me out of here before i keep going!” you screamed , grabbing the next thing you could grab and throwing it the same direction as the broken vase and flowers. “we are so fucking over!”

by the time rafe was ushered away from sarah in the basement , you had already destroyed half of his valuables. the laptop he had on his desk , photo frames of his family and even some of you , his cologne bottles in the bathroom , and all of his watches had been thrown across the room as well.

“what the fuck!” rafe barged into the room , slamming the door behind him as he took in the sight of the floor and you, “what the fuck are you doing?” he yelled , grabbing you by the shoulders, “what the actual fuck , y/n?”

“you drugged me!” you argued , shoving at his chest, “you drugged me , rafe! and locked me in your room!” you kept shoving , hitting at him before he had enough and grabbed you. his grip forced you into the bed face down as he held you in place.

“stop fucking yelling , and stop fucking shoving me,” he grunted in your ear , pushing your body down again to get his point across, “calm the fuck down and we’ll talk.”

“get off of me!” you cried , trying to fight him , but his weight alone was enough to keep you down.

“not until you calm down , baby,” he replied, “you keep making me do shit i don’t wanna do. how is this my fault?” he asked you , lifting up enough to let you take a completely breath.

you looked up at him from the bed , eyes wide and tear filled. “you— you killed that guy,” you muttered, “you killed that guy , and you’re going to kill me and sarah , right?” you couldn’t help but let the absolute worst thoughts bubble to the surface.

rafe heard the words you spoke despite being coughed out through your tears , and he softened entirely. “what?” he moved , letting you go and sitting down next to you , but your body couldn’t move. you were frozen on the bed , terrified of what would happen if you tried to run. the only movement you could make was flinching away when rafe’s hand came up to gently move the hair out of your face.

“i didn’t kill anyone.” he said it like a fact , when you knew it wasn’t. peterkin. he killed peterkin , but you knew better than to bring that up ever again. “well , at least not that guy,” he added with a soft laugh, “and i wouldn’t do that to you , y/n. i love you ; don’t you see? i’m doing this all for you!” your eyes followed his movements as he got on his knees by the bed and laid his head by yours to look you in the eye. “we’re going away. i got the cross and sarah and you. okay , we’re leaving tonight. i just gotta take care of some things , but in the meantime you and sarah are going to go with rose and wheezie to the wharf.”

you felt his hand crawl up your back , stopping on your neck and holding you down without any force— just a precaution. “i love you , and i’m sorry , but you gotta come with. cuz i gotta go , and i can’t leave without you,” he continued , and you nodded , going along with whatever he was saying , none of which you understood.

“okay,” you croaked , nodding again.

“just need you to go back to sleep for a bit , ‘kay?” he had tears in his own eyes. he hated seeing you look so afraid of him. that’s the last thing he wanted. he was doing this all for you. he convinced his dad to let you come with because he loved you so much he couldn’t live without you. and you looked at him with fear. “love you , princess,” he whispered , kissing your forehead before standing up and grabbing something from the nightstand you hadn’t seen before.

“wait , rafe. no , no , no. please—“ your pleas were cut off by rafe covering your mouth and inserting another needle into your skin.

“okay , john b , you need to get sarah. me and pope will just y/n/n,” jj planned , huddling up with his boys before they stormed the cameron castle. only before they could break , rafe came waltzing out of the house and into the truck once again before taking off.

pope didn’t hesitate to run after the truck , hiding in the blind spot to hop on the back. jj and john b scrambled in place , not knowing to go after pope or the girls in the house , but the brake lights disappearing made their decision for them. pope could handle his own.

“wait— b , look,” jj hit john b’s arm , pointing at the scene happening in the cameron’s driveway.

rose was busying herself with shoving you in the backseat of the car , not understanding why on earth you were tagging along , but not wanting to push rafe even further tonight. wheezie followed behind , struggling to move sarah’s drugged up body by herself.

as soon as you were properly buckled and locked away in the back , rose moved to help wheezie , lying about how you and sarah wasn’t feeling too good.

“okay , well we gotta get them,” john b stated , already running after the car that had started to pull out of the driveway.

the boys banged on the windows , begging wheezie to unlock the door or for one of you to wake up and do it yourself. Rose just sped off , leaving the boys behind.

“twinkie! get the twinkie! we gotta go!” jj shouted , sprinting off towards the van so they could follow rose’s car across the island.

if you didn’t feel like shit waking up in rafe’s room , you definitely did now. your entire body was sore , head spinning , and for some reason you felt like you were swaying even as you laid down. despite not knowing where you were exactly at this time , you could figure it out if you took a moment to.

the bobbing , the salt air , the horn in the distance.

you were on a fucking boat , but you didn’t get much time to stress about it before you heard people outside your door arguing.

“rafe , you drugged her. that is kidnapping! and you made me an accomplice! for a pogue? who even is this girl?!” rose , if you assumed correctly , was clearly on your side of the kidnapping , not so much for you but for her.

you could practically see rafe roll his eyes from this side of the door. “dad , you said she could come. she’s here. she’s coming.” if the circumstances had been different , your heart would’ve swelled with pride at the fact that rafe was standing up to ward , especially when it came to you.

“not like this , son!” ward’s voice powerful as ever argued.

wait— ward?

you pushed yourself up from the couch you were laid on and moved to the door , stumbling with the waves beneath the ship. cautiously , you turned the handle and surprisingly pushed through. “rafe?”

your voice was softer than the three that continued arguing , but it still pulled them out of their conversation. all eyes were on you instantly. rose was the first to speak up. “y/n , sweetie , why don’t you go lie back down? rafe said you hit your head earlier. you must need rest.” it all sounded sweet in theory , but you knew it was all a story and fake concern.

“my head feels fine,” you snipped quickly , looking to rafe again before moving your eyes to the undead, “was hoping you were actually blown up by that boat , ward.” as much as you hated rafe for what he had done to you in the past however many hours , your blood boiled at the sight of ward. you were there for rafe when he died ; you picked up the pieces ; you encouraged him to keep going. even before his fake death , you had to be there for rafe when ward flipped out on him. every. single. time.

ward only spared you a glance before pointing at rafe and muttering a “clean this shit up , boy,” before walking away with rose.

“why the fuck did you wake up with an attitude?” rafe cursed , ushering you back into the room you were just in.

you crossed your arms and stared at him indifferently. “maybe because you drugged me , rafe. again,” you stated like he was an idiot for asking , despite knowing he hated when people spoke to him like that. you didn’t exactly care about his feelings in the moment. “you have done a lot of things to me that are awful , rafe , but this— wow , this takes the cake.”

“i did what i had to do to get you here,” rafe groaned , stepping towards you with open hands. you backed away , instinctively. “oh , my fucking god! you’re so dramatic , y/n!”

“and you’re psychotic!” you quickly yelled back , hugging yourself with your arms as you kept your distance from him, “where’s sarah? i want sarah.”

rafe sighed , running a hand down is face. “she’s with our family right now. she doesn’t feel good.”

“i want to see her.”

“she’s busy,” rafe simply denied your request, “do you want a water , baby?” you flinched as tried to step closer to you again. “y/n , seriously , knock it off,” he grunted , getting more irritated by your lack of willingness to just fucking comply with what’s going on, “everything’s going to be fine. i have it all handled. i just needed to get you here.”

you shook your head , slowly crossing the room. “no. i don’t want to be here. i want to go home , rafe. i want to call jj. please,” you asked him , tears filling your eyes at the beginning of accepting that you were in a situation you most likely weren’t getting out of, “rafe , look at what you’ve done,” you started, “look what you did to me.”

rafe didn’t listen though. he turned his head , not wanting to see the truth. he got you here. that’s what mattered. “you can call jj when we dock,” he muttered , trying to reach his hand out to you again before dropping it to his side, “but you’re not leaving until then.”

“we are so fucking over , rafe.” it was said definitively.

and it was like you were living in a loop when rafe slipped out the door and closed it behind him , when you heard the sound of a lock being put in place , holding you in the room you woke up in. your eyes stared blankly at the red , painted metal before you fell back into the couch. “i’m so fucked.”

at least that’s what it felt like.

a/n holy shit this took a minute and it isn’t proofed or anything so ignore any typos

taglist @maybankslover @annatartastic @maroonz @ravenmedows @yootvi @icaqttt @inlovewithmorales @spoiledbratspostsblog @heartsforandrewgarfield @stoned-writer

[herstarburststories]

sitting on gator tillman's face to shut him the fuck up.

a/n: I know this is lateee, I'll post two kinktobers today and two tomorrow to get on the right track of the days. beware> oral sex (female receiving), hate/love relationship, mentions of humping, and dirty talk

Gator Tillman gets on your nerves sometimes.

No, scratch that. He always gets on your nerves. You don’t know what irks you most about him: the stupid smirk; that disgusting vape; his baseless facede of confidence; the constant teasing sarcasm in his words, if he were incapable of taking anything seriously; or, maybe, it was how he was so impossibly gorgeous even when he was bleeding out. 

Gator irritates you more than any other being, from the poor excuse of a politicians to the stupid policimen that you face from time to time at the station.

So, it’s good to finally shut up his mouth. Even better, you’d put it for a good use for once.

His brown eyes glow and widen as he looks up to you, naked body impatient on the mattress as he nibbles on his bottom lip in anticipation. Tillman's cock is already hard only from making out and some humping. It’s so easy to get him all worked up for you.

You throw your shirt away, and Gator lets out a quiet grunt his response. His idiotic lips are parted slightly as he watches your tits. You aren’t wearing a bra and fuck, he just wants to touch you, but for right now, this isn’t about him. Well, not directly.

This is about how furious you are because Gator Tilmman has no right to make you feel like a high school girl discovering how a crush felt. You were always surrounded by a light-hearted feeling that made you want to do a dumb thing like kiss his smoke lips in the back of a bar or jump in front of a bullet to save his ungrateful ass.

How did you, of all people, develop a crush for Gator? Gator is, well, Gator! – a pathetic, cocky son of a bitch. Come on, you’re smarter than that! You’ve gotta be a masochist. 

Nonetheless, you get rid of your pants and underwear, pussy almost dripping for this idiot. Tillman whimpers at the sight, licking his lips. The only thoughts revolving around in his head are: I need to taste you.

''Fuck.''

You glance at him, the beginnings of a smile lightening your features. The big, bad deputy certainly doesn’t have the usual arrogant look on his face now.

You still have your boots on when you climb on top of the bed, and Gator doesn’t seem to care one bit. If anything, his livid, chocolate orbs catch a glimpse of you, naked and climbing on top of him, only wearing those fucking boots. He gulps, not remembering the last time he’s been this turned on. He is a goner.

You place your hands on his shoulders, and you’re sitting on his legs. The wetness of your needy cunt makes a mess there. Part of you wants to ride his thigh, rubbing until you achieve your share of relief. You have a thought or two about just taking his length inside you — how couldn’t you? The tip of his hardness is pressing against your belly, his desire palpable from the precum sluicing your skin. When Gator groans, it’s almost silent; animalistic, even. He grabs your hip as if you were his. God, you want to be, but not today.

Tillman leans in to capture your mouth in another savage kiss, but you pull back. He gives you a confused look. “Wh--”

“That's not where I want your mouth.”

At first, his eyes go wild and you can see him swallwing, salivating, And then, Gator offers your that malicious grin. It’s filled to the brim with confidence. “Well, dollface,” he breathes, and you groan at the stupid nickname he probably gives to every single woman he meets. Son of a bitch. “What’s it to you, then? You want me to get on top of you so I can fuck you nice and slow?” You are about to laugh at his face over the implication of being dominated by him, but Gator's fingers slide into a clandestine meeting with your clit, carefully caressing it as if you were lovers. All you can do now is sink your nails into his skin and moan, shamefully loud. “Or you want to ride my thigh? Come without even touching my cock like a good slut?”

That wasn’t your plan, but it felt so good. If Tillman's fingers are that heavenly, fucking his cock might turn you into a goddess, but you can’t.

You aren’t going to give in that easily. He tried to give you orders through the whole day at the station. The others might have a high tolerance for moods of Roy Tillman's son, but you don’t. You’re going to teach him a thing or two about shutting the hell up.

You push his hand away, your body aching as if you broke a bone. Yet, you persevered as you took a deep breath and grinned impishly at Gator, devouring the despair in his eyes when he no longer has his hand on you.

“You talk way too much, Tillman.” Your fingertips trace a line from his jaw to his neck, trailing down his chest; always following his foolish, adorable freckles. You catch a glimpse of goosebumps rising under your touch. It only causes your smirk to go wider. Gator is glaring at you with raised brows, and you push him to lay on his back.

His cock twitching is proof enough that he enjoyed that.

You press your warmth on his length, retracting your hips when he tried to get inside you. Gator lets out a beautiful, frustrated grunt.

“Dollface...” Now that’s better. And suddenly he’s groaning your name, fully aware only you are giving him pleasure. This is personal, this is dwindling, it’s everything you both have been craving.

“You talk too much, Gator. Always trying to look like the fucking man in the room” You’re basically climbing on him now, your pussy enjoying the small relief of friction from Tillman's hips, his stomach, his chest. You opt to sit there. “Someone should shut you up.”

Gator wishes he could answer. He wants to smirk at you, bring up other teasing comments only to get more of this. You are frisky and dominant – everything his body and soul begged for. Yet, he can’t bring himself to do anything other than lean his head forward in an attempt to catch your pussy with his lips. You smell so good. He can’t wait to taste you. He just wants to eat you out, but you pull away from him with a laugh as if you found amusement in his suffering. Fuck, he’s getting even harder

Gator Tillman is so touch-starved for anything you’re willing to give him.

You rise from his chest, your wetness leaving him soaked. He can’t complain, though. Not when you blessed him with the sight of paradise.

That’s it, Gator decides. Your cunt is the best thing he has ever seen, and he needs to toy with it.

Because you’re over his head, literally. Knees to the mattress on each side of his head, your pussy is right on his face, so appetizing and wet all for him.

“Dollface..” he tries, but you are quick to stop him. It’s a good thing. He’d probably make a fool out of himself from begging to let him touch you, just a little.

“Shh, sweetheart. Just shut up.” Gator barely catches a glimpse of pleasure for that before you sit on his face. “Now eat me out.”

Nevermind, this is his heaven.

You bite your lower lip, trying to regain some composure as you coil your fingers around the bedpost, nails pressed so strenuously into the hardwood there that you wouldn’t be surprised if you left marks carved there. What else are you supposed to do? Gator doesn’t waste any time when you sit on his face, eating you out like you’re a fucking meal and he’s a starving man. His chin and lips and nose are all wet from you.

This man is fucking hungry for you.

“I knew that pretty mouth of yours could go to good use, baby,” you mumbled amidst his pornographic groans, grinding your hips down to ride his face. Gator shoves his tongue inside your warmth, finding comfort between your tight walls.

He pulls away, but only because he needs to breathe. Tillman nibbles on your inner thigh, smirking when you whine for him. So gorgeous and delicious. He gets your clit between his teeth carefully — this isn’t supposed to hurt.

You inhale sharply, looking down to catch him in the act. He looks so hot like his, eating you out with his viridescent gaze fixed on your face as if you were his grand enlightenment. You look like everything he never thought he could have when you were like this: sitting on his face and giving yourself to him, glancing at Gator with your hands fixed on the headboard and tresses of your hair falling on your face.

After this, he has to kiss you some more. He just has to.

For now, though, the deputy is more than happy eating out his prey. He enjoys every aspect of this. You taste as if you were made to be this good for him. The tip of his tongue brushes your G-spot, and he can’t wait for you to come. 

The idea of tasting your orgasm makes his cock ache deeply in the best ways possible. Gator's freaking sure he’s about to come untouched because of your needy cunt.

He licks your clit before enveloping you with his lips, sucking on you at your neediest. You begin to lose your cognitive senses, melting into a screaming mess and pressing your pussy closer to him. Tillman is almost suffocating, and he couldn’t be happier. 

Your thighs tighten around his ears, a cry leaving your lips as Gator focuses all his attention on your clit. He only pauses to sink his tongue into your warm wetness before coming back to your sensitive spot.

You clutch the bedpost as if you are holding onto dear life as you come all over Gator's face. He tries to catch all of you — not because he doesn’t want to get dirty, but because he ain’t gonna miss one single drop of your juice. 

You taste so fucking good, much better than anything he has ever put on his tongue. Tillman is an addict now, and he can’t get enough of your cunt, your cum, or you.

He licks you clean, getting the most he can of you, and you whine through the intense sensation of freedom that comes with it. Fuck Gator and his spoiled tongue.

You get up with trembling legs. Your hand slides to find his hard cock and offer what relief you can, but you just find milky come on his stomach.

Did he come only from eating you out?

Holy fuck.

You make the mistake of looking at his face after that realization. He’s breathless, glancing at you and licking your juices off his lips. He looks flushed and satisfied, smirking with dimpled cheeks. You can see your come on his chin and nose. “Remind me to never stop talking if this is how you’re gonna shut me up.”

request for kinktober. reblogs and comments are magic. ♡

[tannedalien]

I'VE GOT A SCENARIO, ok so I saw the Monty doing Roxanne with reader being jealous and got a thought. Reader is dating Monty but cheats on reader with Roxanne. They cry to Bonnie for comfort cuz he's sweet bunny but little does the reader know his idea so comfort is something else 👀. Monty catches them and is fumming cuz he knows Bonnie's been pinning for reader the whole time. Bunny boi looking at Monty while pounding reader like whatcha done do? 👀🐇👀

your prayers have been answered my sweet in this, reader calls bonnie thumper as a nickname. I will STAND WITH THAT HEAD CANON UNTIL I DIE.

GLAMROCK BONNIE x READER

tw: NSFW THEMES, cheating, mentions of panties for the feminine ppl, not read over it just finished it off this morning, mentions of vaginal parts

every day was getting more and more exhausting for you. Your pay check is slipping, your sink was leaking and your relationship was fading.

you would find yourself getting upset and just breaking down, the first person at your side would always be bonnie.

he would always hear to what you had to say, he gave great advice and if you need to cry in his embrace, hes happy to be there for you.

"its gonna be okay superstar, I promise" he held you and stroked your hair as you quietly sobbed into his bowling shirt.

"I-its not... hes going to leave me.. I-.. I just don't know what to do"

you knew deep down it was for the better. all monty ever did was insult you and ignore you. NOTHING about him screamed "caring" in any way.

"but... it'll be for the best." you stuttered, wiping your tears from your face.

you patted Bonnies leg and gave him a little smile, indicating it was time for you to finish on your check-ups with the other glamrocks. god how he loves that smile.

before you pulled the door he grabbed your waist from behind and hugged you.

"just one more before you leave, im gonna miss ya'" he said whilst resting his head into the dip of your neck.

"Awww, thumper. c'mere"

the large thump of the elevator hitting the floor woke you up from your thoughts. remembering you have to finish off the last of the glamrock checkups and then your free to roam around for a bit until opening.

your first stop was freddy;

freddy noticed your tear stained face and questioned you about it but after you said it was nothing, he didn't want to push you into telling him. so he stayed quiet until you finished.

"alright! all done. you seem to be operating fine."

you gave the brown bear a smile, closing his stomach hatch.

"I best be on my way now".

and with that, you made your way to Roxy's greenroom but to your surprise, she wasn't there.

"that's strange... maybe she's in her raceway. ill check it later"

you grabbed your tools and headed to your gators greenroom.

you where absolutely terrified, why wouldn't you be? he has a short temper and isn't really fond of you DESPITE you being his significant other.

as you where about to place your fist onto his door, you heard something.

"fuckkk..roxyy"

you heard grunts and several slurs mumbling all coming from monty's room.

you felt dread bubbling in the pit of your stomach.

without hesitation, you slammed the door open to reveal a heartbreaking scene.

"what. the. fuck" you dropped your bags to the floor and stood in shock.

"ah- shit babe! its not what it looks like!"

monty tried to cover Roxy whilst trying to put his pants back on, knocking over a few objects thrown across his room.

"oh so you weren't just balls fucking deep in Roxy then huh?! do you think im a fucking idiot?!" you frantically waved your arms around, your head raging at the thought of your best friend FUCKING your boyfriend.

"no I-"

"so this is why you where so distant from me. you where screwing around with her!" you cut him off.

monty was silent. he knew you where right and you could see it on his face

Roxanne stood up and moved towards you

"im sorry y/n-"

"I don't want to hear anything from you."

and with that you slammed the door shut, walking back to the elevator you came from. you where too distracted to go check on Chica or the others. you had one destination you where gonna go to and that was it.

you felt your anger slowly melt into sadness and the aching in your chest started to become more apparent. tears started to run down your face.

"shit.."

bonnie was sat on foxy's stage, head in his hands and dying of boredom.

"why didn't I just tell her, kiss her.. or DO ANYTHING! god she's gonna get played by that dick-"

"b-bonnie.."

his head instantly turned.

"o-oh my sweet thing, what happened?"

he quickly ran to your side, putting your head in his hands.

"monty he...he.. I think he grew fonder to Roxanne.."

bonnie gave you a sad look, cupping your cheek in his hand.

"aw darlin'... im sorry you had to see that"

his hands ran down to your waist, pulling you into his chest.

"its going to be alright, love"

you wiped you tears and sat down, putting you head into your hands. Bonnie lifted your face up to meet him, giving you a soft smirk.

"I can treat you better than he ever could, y'know?"

your eyes never left his, getting lost in the sight that was in front of you. you felt your insides bubbling in excitement.

you knew there was always something there between you two but you always thought it was a misunderstanding. but now you realise that hes always been the one there for you, always been the one to keep you company on lonely night shifts, always been the one to understand and listen to you, hes always been the one.

"do you want me to treat you better?" his hands slowly slid up your thighs, rubbing the inside of your legs.

"y-yes..please" you stuttered, you heart was beating so fast. you couldn't actually believe this was happening.

"atta' girl" he said with a soft melodic tone.

NSFW UNDER THE LINEEE

bonnie's hands started to wonder all over you whilst he kissed your neck, touching all of your sensitive parts.

he was a bit hesitant a first but the noises you made encouraged him to feel more.

His hands tugged at the waist line of your pants, eagerly wanting to see the beauty between your legs.

"you sure you want this sweetheart?" he gave you a look of concern, making sure that this was the right moment for you.

"I am positive my little thumper, you're too sweet"

his foot pounded lightly in the floor from the little nickname you gave him. he felt as if he was under your spell, no matter what, all he could think about was you.

he pulled your pants off, revealing the laced panties you wore.

his hand glided over the heat between your legs, feeling your wetness and admiring the state that you where in. the state he caused you to be in.

"my, my baby. you look so adorable" he purred, his head going closer to your lower regions

"and you're all mine"

he pulled you panties off, staring down your dripping mess between your legs. his hands caressed your inner thighs, making your heat throb in anticipation.

even in such a desperate situation, he still made you feel special. it still made your stomach bubble butterflies.

"please just fuck me bon... I need you"

That lit something in him. Within seconds he’s picking you up and placing you on top of his lap, kissing your shoulders whilst his hands roamed the bottom half of your body.

You’re body was warm, soft, his hands gave you such a euphoric feeling. You knew in that moment that he’s what you want, your face grew redder and your heart beat increased.

You felt him slowly lift up your body as you felt something poking at your puffy core. A few whimpers left your mouth as you felt him enter inside of you.

“Fuckk, hon…”

His voice sounded so melodic, filling your stomach with butterflies, making you feel as if you’re a teenager again with a high school crush.

Your head naturally fell onto Bonnies shoulder as he started to bounce you up and down on his cock. He was slow and passionate. Not rough or mean like Monty was.

Your hands wrapped around him as your mouth opened, letting out the sweetest of noises, sending him over the edge, he was loving every second of it and you could tell.

“..’feels so good Bon..”

He smiled, he loved hearing you, especially like this.

“I know sweets, let Bonnie take care of ya’”

And with that, you’re riding up and down on him, filling your senses with a euphoric pleasure as he fucked you right to the edge.

By this point your legs had started to shake, you was clearly close and he wanted to get you to finish, all he wanted was for you to feel good.

His hands move as he moves one of them to your lower back and the other one straight to your puffy clit. As soon as his fingers made contact, your head flung back as the overwhelming feeling whipped straight to your core.

“O-oh my goddd… Bon..’mgonna cum..”

You mumbled as your body grew limp.

“That’s it clover, feel good on me, please”

And with that, you both felt your gummy walls tighten around him. Your body heaved as your clenched your fists and screamed for him, gifting him a small smirk on his face.

He pulled you off of him, not caring that he hadn’t finished, more of that he needed to take care of you. Pulling you into his chest, he moved a strand of hair from your face. You smiled at him. God. He loved that smile.

“God.. be mine hon, please”.

Sorry for the fact that it was rushed, its 3:56 and I’m tryna get all my drafts finished and I know y’all are back on the FNAF band waggon again so why not throw a few out there for you guys, love ya <3

Also please give me more requests, I’ve got no inspiration 😭

[stxrrwritess]

who you belong to.

( art not mine )

monty gator x reader smut

MINORS DNI !!

warnings : afab!reader, jealous sex, rough sex, slight degradation ( use of whore, slut ), size difference (?), oral ( fem receiving ), poorly written smut LOL

word count : 807

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

As the mechanic, your job basically consisted of being friendly with all of the glamrocks. You’d figured it was easier to get to know them rather than just barge in and start working on their wires. Over time, you’d developed an .. interesting relationship with none other than Montgomery Gator, the most aggressive of the four animatronics. On this particular day, you had to tend to Freddy a little more than the others, mainly because of a glitch he had during a performance which resulted in a freak out of the children and quite a few adults.

After you had finished up in Freddy’s green room, you said goodbye and left, only to find Monty leaning on the wall, arms crossed and a not-so pleasant expression on his face. “Oh, hey Monty. You okay? Vanessa told me you didn’t need a check up today so I-,” before you could finish, you were yanked rather harshly by the forearm towards the Gator’s green room. “H-Hey! Monty, what’s going on?” You asked, skeptical on why he was acting so strange. You two had been fucking, sure. But you’d never have thought he’d be so annoyed that you were just doing your job. “Shut it, whore.” He grumbled under his breath, opening the door to his room and throwing you onto his mangled up couch. “Too fuckin’ busy to come in an’ even say ‘hello’? Too caught up with Fazbear?” He asked, as he moved to rip your work shirt off, causing your tits to pop out. “No, Monty, He had a glitch today. You saw it.” You protested, but you couldn’t deny that seeing this jealous side of him was.. oddly hot.

“I’m gonna remind ya who ya belong to.” He spoke, discarding of your pants and your panties, revealing your wet snatch to him. His large hands traveled over your body, stopping to grope your boobs and a small whine escaped your lips. After a few moments, he stopped and pried your legs open. Leaning down, he ran a wet stripe up your heat, eliciting a low moan from you. He teased your clit, before you hit his forearm that was holding your thigh gently. “Stop teasing, Montgomery!” You complained, before he finally stuck his strangely long tongue into you, eating you out like he hadn’t eaten in days. You threw your head back in ecstasy, your hand gripping his red mohawk. “M-Monty, Fuck-“ You gasped as soft moans and whines emitted from you. When he sensed you were getting close to the edge, he pulled away. You opened your mouth to give out to him, but he interrupted you. “You ain’t cummin’ unless it’s on my fuckin’ cock.” He growled, picking you up harshly and moving to his vanity, bending you over, your tits flush against the table. You glanced up at yourself, your forehead was glistened with sweat and your cheeks flushed.

Monty wasted no time in discarding his pants, as he pushed the tip of his dick past your gummy walls. No matter how many times you two fucked, his size always surprised you. “T-Too big..” You murmured under your breath, looking up at him in the mirror with pleading eyes. “Take it, slut.” He grunted and with one sharp thrust, he bottomed out in you. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you inhaled sharply, feeling his dick fill you up so nicely. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, as he started thrusting into you at an inhuman pace, yanking your hair back to make you look at yourself in the mirror. “Tell me, who’s fuckin’ ya? Who’s makin’ ya feel this good, huh?” He gave a rougher thrust at the end of his sentence to emphasize his point. “Y-You, you are, fuck!” You rasped, “I got a name, use it. Tell me who ya belong to.” He groaned, feeling you clench around him like a vice. “Monty, you, please just - don’t fucking stop!” You begged, your hands gripping onto his vanity as you felt your knees begin to buckle. “Hnngh- I’m, fuck, Y/N. I’m gettin’ close..” He removed his hand from your hair and placed both of his hands on your hips, holding onto them with bruising force. It didn’t take long for you to cum around him, considering he had edged you before this. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, your vision going blurry for a few seconds. Monty followed a few moments later, painting your insides white with a grunt. He pulled out, and moved to scoop you up into his arms as he sat on the couch. “Uh.. Shit. Sorry if I went too hard on ya.. It’s jus’, ya know how I get ‘bout Fazbear.” He chuckled sheepishly, and you rolled your eyes playfully.

You should get him jealous more often, if this is the outcome.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

a/n

hope you enjoyed x3 honestly idk how to write smut that well, i just let my hands do the typing while i zone out for a solid 20 minutes. if there’s anything i can improve on do let me know ! ( i’m def super repetitive in the way that i write but oh well )

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: Simon hadn't planned on committing expulsion-worthy crime at 10am on a Thursday. In fact, he hadn't planned on committing expulsion-worthy crime ever. In his defense, though, his best friend's ghost had been emphatic about getting into Mr. Anderson's phone, and it'd been the only course of action he could think of to prove she could rely on him. Simon had regretted it as soon as it'd happened. Fuck my life, I guess.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: panic attacks. eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.17

Simon found you at your locker at the tail-end of lunch, trading sketchbooks for your copy of Frankenstein and your English binder. Mathilda stood beside you, merrily outlining her upcoming interview with an administrator from some posh, East Coast art academy.

You smiled and nodded in the appropriate places; giggled when Mathilda commented on something Hana had said at lunch. However, Simon noted, you weren't offering a lot in the way of conversation.

Mathilda clocked Simon first, lengthened her short frame as much as she could—spine straight, shoulders back, chin up—and leveled him with a look that could boil water. It took him a second to remember they shared History. That she'd been in Ms. Fields' class when Simon had accused Xavier of hurting Maddie and had forced the contents of Xavier's backpack to spill in front of an audience.

He wanted to pretend her hostility toward him didn't sting—because it didn't, right? They weren't friends. Mathilda hadn't shown anything but superficial interest in him since Xavier and Maddie became XavierandMaddie. To her, Simon was Maddie's plus-one. The guy Maddie took everywhere she went. Linus' security blanket in human form.

Of course, that reality only existed if Simon completely disregarded that it'd been Mathilda who'd always asked after Simon; had extended every invitation to join them for group events. She'd driven Simon home on multiple occasions, even when it'd made more sense that Hana and Lucas would have since they shared a neighborhood.

Shit, maybe he and Mathilda were friends? He'd never considered it before. How you and Mathilda and—aw crap that's right: Eli—had made significant efforts to get to know Simon. Had welcomed him into the fold of pre-established friendship and encouraged him to carve out his own place within it.

And to show his appreciation, Simon had lunged after Xavier like a vendetta with claws.

Simon waved at Mathilda weakly, eyes darting away from hers when she doubled down and fiercened her glower. Despite his height advantage, Simon considered running to the Philippines to stay with his aunt. He'd request a room with reinforced steel walls and a couple of security guards outside the door, just in case.

Did Mathilda have her passport? He should ask.

"I'm gonna head to Media," Mathilda announced before you were even aware of Simon's presence. "I'll see you in Bio." She flipped her long, purple-black hair, deliberately whipping Simon in the face with the ends as she swanned by.

"Later gator," You replied, offhand, shutting your locker and, "Oh, hey," catching Simon as he slunk into the space Mathilda had vacanted.

Simon watched Mathilda warily until she disappeared into the stream of students. Partly because he felt a weird kind of fucked up for not having sooner recognized the olive branch of friendship Mathilda had been brandishing, but mostly because he was batshit terrified she'd reappear just to punch him in the nuts.

Needing a second opinion, he blurted, "Are Mathilda and I friends?"

You startled, spluttering around an answer before reminding him, "Didn't you go with her and Eli to Comiccon when everyone else bailed?"

Holy shit. With everything going on, Simon had genuinely forgotten about that adventure. Xavier was 'too cool'. Maddie and Nicole hadn't been interested, you'd been visiting your dad in England and, well, he didn't know why Hana and Lucas had backed out, but Simon had been given Lucas' ticket. Told to treat it like a months-late birthday present.

Mathilda knew when his birthday was.

Simon groaned and hit the back of his head on the locker he leaned against. "I fucked up."

"You really didn't think she thought of you as her friend?"

"No comment." Simon pinched the bridge of his nose. Watched stars explode behind his eyes when he rubbed his lids with the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

After a short lull, you asked, "You know we're friends, right?"

"Yes?" Simon replied, the upward lilt of punctuation prompting a sour expression to your face.

"You're an idiot."

Simon readjusted so he was tilted on his shoulder, putting every ounce of apology he had in him behind his next words, "I'm sorry. I just...I figured you guys let me hang out because Maddie and I are a package deal."

Were, a voice not unlike Maddie's unhelpfully corrected, we were a package deal.

"I repeat: You're an idiot." But you said it with humor, giving Simon a crooked smile and a harmless whack to the arm. "Look, none of us pretend we're as close to you as you are to Maddie, but, Si, that doesn't mean we wouldn't help you hide a—" Body.

Simon saw the instant your brain caught up to your mouth and suddenly you curled into yourself; crossed your arms and ducked your chin into your chest.

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Hey, it's okay." For the first time in a long time (perhaps the first time ever), Simon reached out to you, put a hand on your shoulder, and squeezed. "I get it." Quiet, touched, "Thank you."

"You're welcome. And don't worry," You assured him, "Tilly won't hold it against you forever. Once we expose Mr. A and clear Xavier's name, she'll forget what you did to him."

"If you say so," Simon muttered. Belatedly, he registered, "Mr. A?" He hadn't heard anyone refer to Mr. Anderson as Mr. A and, as far as he knew, the only teachers to earn a friendly nickname from their senior classmates were Mrs. Bloom, the Drama teacher, and Mr. Fitzgerald, the band director. Bloomageddon and Fitz-G respectively.

You carried on as if Simon hadn't said anything, "Speaking of clearing Zav's name, I have an idea. But we'll have to do it after school when he's busy with Booster Club."

Simon remembered then why he'd sought you out, shifting to curl a hand around the phone in his sweater pocket.

"His fingerprints have to be all over that money," You explained in a stage whisper, "If we can get it to the police, they'll have to arrest him." You nudged closer when Simon didn't say anything, somehow reading him like a picture book, "Or...you have a different plan?"

Taking a fortifying breath, Simon volunteered, "I'm gonna show you something, and you can't freak out."

Dubious, "Oh-kay~."

He leaned closer, gently turned you so there was a little cave of privacy between both your bodies and the lockers. You glanced around, checking for possible eavesdroppers, before giving Simon your full attention and, damn, being on the receiving end made Simon's pulse quicken a little.

He shoved the thought aside before it could gain any ground, unwilling to make room within himself for anything that didn't directly impact locating Maddie's body.

"You can trust me, Simon."

"I know," He said, though he still needed a moment to build the confidence to show you what he'd done.

Although you'd already proven you were in this with him, willing to drown in the same dark pool of questions to resolve Maddie's murder. Although you'd obviously spent time and energy constructing a plan that, upon hearing it, Simon had to concede was a lot smarter than what he'd done. Although you'd admitted you and he were friends and you'd help him cover up a crime at the drop of a hat...

Simon was scared. Scared that he'd done the wrong thing; that he'd get expelled; that he'd hallucinated his best friend and had stolen someone's property because, oh fuck, he had a brain tumor or dormant schizophrenia or—

"Breathe." You ordered, hand flattened over Simon's heart, taking long, deep breaths of your own for Simon to mimic.

And, oh God, you'd lifted his hand from his pocket as he'd been spiraling, pressed it to your chest so he could feel the steadiness of your heartbeat under his palm. Placed safely above inappropriate, warm skin and hard bone, rising and falling slowly as you talked in a calming rhythm.

He sucked in a shuddery breath, then another, and another, lungs finally expanding to accommodate the air he so desperately needed. It took another minute for the spots in his vision to recede, another minute after that for embarrassment to flush under his skin like a sunburn.

"Sorry." He gasped, taking his hand back and returning it to his pocket. "I..."

"Stop thinking, Simon." You said in an aloe-vera tone, the sound of it cooling the hot prickle of humiliation before it calcified. "Are you okay?"

You'd asked him that almost every day since the APEX. Hell, just last night you'd made sure he was okay to drive home after your sister had called you in for dinner.

"Yeah." He said, not sure how much he meant it, but decidedly averse to unpacking his trauma in a semi-crowded hallway. "Thanks for..." What? "For that." He ended lamely and cast his gaze to his feet.

With a distinct note of sadness, you admitted, "Xavier spent a year helping me...breathe."

And Simon was grateful that you phrased it that way, suddenly drained and unable to receive another frank overture of support.

"So, what am I not freaking out about?"

Simon could kiss you, seriously. "Right, yeah." He made sure no one was watching when he pulled out Mr. Anderson's phone and held it between you and him.

You raised an eyebrow, "You want me not to freak out about your phone?"

"Not mine," Simon murmured, "Mr. Anderson's. I grabbed it off his desk this morning."

Without missing a beat, "Is it locked?"

Simon almost did kiss you then, a fizzy cocktail of so damn grateful and so damn pleased that you didn't immediately chew his head off and spit it out in front of Principal Hartman.

"Yeah. And I don't have the code. But if we can find out who he was talking to last night—"

"—We might find out what happened to Maddie." You finished, nodding like it was the simplest thing in the world. "Alright. I bet there's a YouTube tutorial for hacking into phones." Simon hadn't thought of that.

"I'll look into it. I've got a free period 'til sixth, I'll see what I can find."

"Good." You stared at the phone, eyes narrowing, "You turned it off, right?"

"No..?" Simon said as he stuffed the phone back in his pocket.

Alarmed, "Simon, if he has that Find My Phone app, he's going to catch you! You could get expelled! You need to turn it off now!"

That was another excellent point Simon hadn't thought of.

"Alright, I read you loud and clear, Major Tom, I'm turning it off." He appeased and pulled the phone out again.

"I swear to God, Simon, if you get expelled and leave me alone in this giant pile of shit, I'm gonna end up going after him with a—" You stopped before you revealed what manner of weapon you'd use, diverting yourself to, "With the threat of bodily harm."

Simon looked you up and down, uncertain how effective that would be.

"Fine." You yielded, "I'd sic Tilly on him."

Simon snorted, the image as horrifying as it was awesome. He briefly wondered if you and he shouldn't recruit Mathilda to the investigation. She was tenacious and clever and probably knew a thing or two since her mother was a big-shot lawyer who commuted to the city every morning to prosecute criminals.

"Why wasn't that our first plan?" He joked and then returned his attention to the phone.

Just as he was about to press the button to turn the damn thing off, a throat cleared behind him, followed by an unsettlingly pacified voice.

"Simon Elroy?"

Ms. Chung. The grief counselor.

Fuck his whole life, front to back.

He quickly hid the phone in his pocket and spun around, forgot that you and he had been stood particularly close until he heard you grunt, his backpack knocking you in the chest.

"Um, yes?" He answered politely while inside he cursed that he couldn't plead for you not to leave him alone with her.

"Can I have a word, please?" Ms. Chung asked, the inferred privately directed over his shoulder at you. Her open expression didn't falter, even as Simon began to stumble over a half-baked excuse. "This will only take a moment," She assured and took a meaningful step closer.

You came around and bumped Simon's shoulder with yours. Friendly, casual, except that your gaze was fixed on Ms. Chung. Something unpleasant churned beneath the public face of respect you gave her, and if Simon didn't know better, he'd think she'd committed some sort of offense against you.

Ms. Chung, on the other hand, seemed unperturbed, returning your odd standoffishness with a serene, Woodstock smile.

Had you already been to see her?

At last, "I'll see you in Psych," you said and excused yourself, leaving Simon woefully alone for Ms. Chung to poke, prod, pry his feelings out of him one by one.

It was fine. He was fine. He'd let her say her piece, tell her what she wanted to hear to get her off his back and be on his way.

Ms. Chung's eyes glittered and her smile grew teeth.

Simon audibly gulped.

💀___________________________

PART SIXTEEN - PART EIGHTEEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[kind-of-a-writer]

The Backseat (18+)

gator tillman x fem!reader You're running late. Gator doesn't seem to care. Part 2: The Party

wc: 3k contains: cheating, mild dubcon, car sex, dry humping, etc etc

You knew it was Gator before you even rolled down the window, catching sight of his familiar strut as you glanced in the rearview mirror. His stupid sheriff vest and cargo pants, the trudge of his boots. Bracing yourself, you knew this wasn’t going to be fun. Or easy.

Gripping your driver’s license, you glanced up as he walked over. You had a deadpan expression as he leaned over slightly, a smug smirk on his face. He met your eyes and you couldn’t help but sigh in irritation.

When you and Gator had broken up a few months ago, you had flipped him off and told him you didn’t want to see his face ever again. And for the most part, you’d managed to avoid him, just narrowly. Leaving as soon as possible after church services and anywhere else you could possibly bump into him.

“You were speeding,” he said casually, as if this wasn’t your first time speaking properly in months. You almost wanted to drive off so you wouldn’t have to deal with him. “Where are you headin’ so fast all dolled up? Running late?” 

“I was barely over the speed limit,” you replied with a scoff. You glanced down at your white dress that showed a little too much cleavage for your liking, but he was right. You were running late to your new boyfriend’s family dinner, and you were, in fact, speeding. How were you supposed to know Gator would be driving this road now of all times? 

“You were goin’ 60 in a 35,” Gator said. “That excited to see that boyfriend of yours?”

“What’s it to you?” You asked, starting to get a little annoyed, tugging at the hem of your dress when you noticed him staring at your thighs. “If you’re gonna give me a ticket, just do it, Gator. I’m running late.” 

His smirk faded suddenly. “License and registration.” 

Mouth slightly agape, you recovered quickly, grumbling in annoyance as you handed your license over, folding your arms. You watched him, the way his eyebrows were scrunched in concentration as he scribbled something down in his notepad, hair slicked back like always. It had been a while since you’d seen him up so close. You hated how good he looked.

“So what is it? You’re on your way to see that tool?” he asked, not looking up from his notepad. “That why you’re wearing such a slutty dress?”

Clearing your throat, you shook your head. You didn’t want to give into him and his antics. You knew him too well, he was trying to rile you up like he always did. 

“Is he gonna fuck you tonight, hm? Does your poor daddy know?” Gator taunted, his smirk growing.

You couldn’t help but scoff. “Well, he fucks me better than you ever did.” 

He glanced up at you briefly, then shut the notepad. “Get out of the car.” 

“What?” You asked incredulously. “No.”

“Step out of the car, or I’ll arrest you,” Gator said, a smirk on his face again. “D’you want your little boyfriend to come and bail you out of jail tonight?”

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Because I can.”

“Asshole,” you murmured under your breath as you unbuckled your seatbelt and stepped out of your car. 

He only laughed in response as you shut the car door, glancing down at your white dress. You had worn it in hopes it would impress your boyfriend’s parents. While it wasn’t your first time meeting them and they were nice to you, you still felt a need to be on your best behavior. You never had to worry about that with Gator - mainly because you two had kept your relationship a secret from both of your families. 

Gator reached out, his long fingers ghosting over the hem of your skirt, his gaze fixated on your thighs. “It’s hotter up close,” he said. “Is it date night?” 

You swallowed thickly as his cold, soft fingers slipped under the hem, caressing your thigh slightly. You shook your head. “No,” you breathed, surprised by his sudden change in tone. “I’m going to have dinner with his family.” 

You had forgotten how good Gator was at calming you down, turning you on. Making your panties wet just by a simple touch. You squeezed your thighs together as his hand moved out from under your dress, tugging at the hem again. He seemed to be fascinated by it.

“Yeah?” he asked, his eyes fixed on yours. “Bet they love you, huh? So innocent and pure. They don’t know how much of a whore you can be, do they?”

Before you could respond, the sound of fabric tearing snapped you out of your daze. You glanced down, mouth open in horror. Your dress was torn in half at the skirt, split wide open, revealing your panties. The cold air traveled up your thighs.

“Gator!” You gasped, trying to push his hand away, but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Oh,” he clicked his tongue, unable to hide his amusement. “My hand slipped. It’s so delicate.”

“I can’t fucking believe-” 

“You’re wearing my favorite, huh?” Gator said with a hum, his index finger tracing over the lace of your pink panties, a nonchalance in his tone that made you want to slap him. 

You wanted to yell at him, tell him how much of a dick he was for ripping your dress, that he hadn’t changed a single bit in all these months. That you fucking hated him. But all that slipped out of your mouth was a soft whimper as his index finger rubbed over you slowly through the cloth of your panties. Your eyes met his, heat rushing to your cheeks at how humiliating this was. How good it felt.

You couldn’t help but glance around in embarrassment, down the long, empty road. It was starting to get dark. You were only getting later. You found yourself praying to God that a car wouldn’t pass by, wouldn't see Gator pressing you up against your car with his hand up your dress. 

“Darlin’, no one’s around,” he tilted his head. “You worried someone will see how much of a slut you still are for me? Haven’t even touched you properly yet, sweetheart.” 

Trembling slightly, you shook your head, glancing away. “You’re a dick.”

“Does he touch you like this, though?” Gator asked, pressing his index finger a little harder against you, finding your clothed clit. You couldn’t help the moan that left your mouth, only making him smirk wider. “He gets you wet like this?”

“Fuck off,” you said, breaths a little heavier. “Gator-”

“I’m gonna give you two options, yeah?” he said, tucking some hair behind your ear, removing his hand from between your legs. “I give you this ticket and you can go to that idiot’s house, in this poor little ripped dress, or… you stop being a stubborn little baby and admit you’ve missed me.” 

There was a beat as you breathed heavily, his thumb ghosting over your bottom lip. Then another.

Then, for some stupid reason, you were opening the door to the backseat of your car and Gator was sliding in with a victorious look on his face. 

Wordlessly, you crawled inside the car after him, cheeks flushed, the arousal growing between your thighs. You couldn’t even hide it anymore. You let Gator slide you onto his lap, your thighs on either side of his lap as you glanced down at him.

His breath was hot on your exposed neck, his fingers running up your thighs. You could feel his growing bulge underneath you, the way his hips bucked up to press against you, making your pussy throb and ache.

“Gator,” you whispered shakily. You lifted your arms as he pulled your dress off, throwing it to the side. He wrapped one hand around you and unclasped your bra in one swift movement. Gator watched in awe as it fell onto the seat beside the two of you.

You shifted slightly to help him unzip his sheriff vest which he dumped to the side rather hastily. You glanced down, cheeks still flushed, rocking your hips to meet against his, a moan leaving your lips at the right amount of friction. His large hand made its way to squeeze your breast as you continued grinding against him, breaths getting shorter. 

“So pretty,” he said, half-lidded gaze as he looked down at your bare torso. He rolled his thumbs over your hardened nipples, earning another moan from you. “Damn, you’re loud tonight, huh? Missed me that bad?”

You were too busy pressing yourself against his clothed bulge to reply, rocking your hips forward a little sloppily. Your eyes met his, and you couldn’t even think about how wrong this was anymore. All you wanted was Gator. 

He blinked up at you, then latched his mouth over your right breast, tongue swirling around your nipple, sucking briefly before moving his head back. He pinched your left nipple hard, making you moan again. “Come on, tell me you missed me or I’ll stop.”

“Missed you, yeah, of course I did,” you were mumbling, the zipper of his pants rubbing right against your clothed clit, granting you the pleasure you were so desperate for. You gripped his shoulder. “Missed you so much, Gator.” 

“That’s what I thought,” he replied smugly, lifting his hips to meet you halfway. 

You were cupping his cheek and about to lean in for a kiss when your phone buzzed in the cupholder. You glanced over your shoulder, noticing your boyfriend’s name, Jake, light up on the screen. Shaking your head, you turned back, guilt clawing its way up your throat. You had completely forgotten about him. 

“Answer it,” Gator said, smacking your thigh with enough force to make you yelp. 

“What?” you asked, placing a kiss on his neck, trying to distract him. He groaned slightly in response, but it wasn’t enough.

He pulled you back by tugging on your hair a little harshly. “Answer it, darlin’,” he ordered, his voice dripping with condescension. “I’m sure he’s worried sick. Poor bastard.” 

The hard look on Gator’s face made it known he wasn’t fucking with you. So with a shaky intake of breath, you reached back and picked up your phone. Your fingers trembled slightly as you put the phone to your ear, clearing your throat when Gator immediately lifted his hips to grind against you. 

“Hey,” you managed to croak out as Gator pinched your nipple again, watching as he used his free hand to unbuckle his belt. The smirk on his face as he watched you was stupidly hot. 

You almost didn’t hear the sound of Jake’s voice through the phone, your eyes fixated on watching Gator as he hastily unzipped his pants, the speed at which he worked making it clear he was just as desperate for you as you were for him. It made you smile a little.

“Where are you, babe?” Jake asked, his voice slightly concerned. You were too busy trying not to make noise, watching Gator pull his hard, dripping cock out of his boxers, licking your lips. “You said you’d be here by six. Everything okay?”

You cleared your throat again, eyes fluttering as Gator’s mouth moved back onto your breast, pressing his tongue against your nipple as he pumped his cock with his hand. 

“Y-yeah,” you managed to answer. “Actually, no… I… I’m gonna be late-”

Gator bit down on your nipple suddenly, making your words die in your throat. You bit your lip hard, trying to suppress the whine that was going to leave your mouth. 

“No,” Gator mumbled against your breast.

“Sorry, I- I mean,” you gripped the back of his head, trying to push his mouth off you, to which he complied, leaning his head back against the headrest of the seat, smirking at you lazily. “I can’t make it. S-something came up.” 

“Did something happen?” Jake asked.

“No, I’m fine, just-” you tried to make your voice sound as even as possible as Gator gripped your hip, stuffing his free hand down your panties. You shook your head, wide eyed, as his index finger traced your slick, wet folds. He tapped your thigh, and you lifted your hips at once, watching as he tugged your panties down.

“Just what?”

With some careful maneuvering and trying your best to suppress a laugh, both you and Gator had managed to get you out of your panties. You shifted back onto Gator’s lap, your skin prickling at the touch of his cold fingers as he helped you get comfortable again.

“Babe, are you still there?” Jake’s voice came through, making you sigh. 

“Y-yeah, I’m here,” You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to think of an excuse that wouldn’t leave Jake super upset with you. But it was hard to think of something with the way Gator was rubbing the head of his cock over your lips. His breathing was heavy and his previously slicked back hair was now falling onto his eyes as he watched you.

“Is everything okay?” he asked. “Why can’t you come?”

“Yeah, everything okay?” Gator mocked in a whisper, guiding the head of his cock up to your entrance. He rubbed his tip against your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body that made you force out a cough to cover your whimper. He glanced up at you, reveling in the sight of you struggling to keep quiet, a wide smile on his face. 

“I… got my period,” you blurted suddenly, making Gator snort in response. You put your hand over his mouth and he made a soft noise in protest, but allowed it. “My cramps are really bad, so I can’t make it.” 

“Oh,” Jake responded, sounding disappointed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care with the way Gator was pressing his cock against your clit, making your head spin. “Do you want me to come over? Do you need anything? Chocolate? Medicine? My cuddles?”

A soft sigh left your lips, mouth agape as Gator pushed the head of his cock into you a little. Your hand that was over Gator’s mouth immediately transferred to clamp over your own, trying to suppress your moan as he lifted his hips, sliding his cock slightly further into your pussy, trying to take it slow. 

“Fuck, he’s annoying,” Gator mumbled, his voice a little strained. “Need me to hang up for you?”

Squeezing your eyes shut again, you swallowed hard. “No, I’m fine.” You weren’t sure who you were saying that to. “Please, just- please tell your parents I’m sorry and I’ll make it up to them.” 

“Sure-”

You ended the call and dropped your phone before he could finish his sentence, making Gator chuckle softly.

“That desperate, huh?” he whispered. “I thought he fucks you better than I do?”

“We haven’t had sex yet,” you admitted, too far gone to care about your dignity anymore. To which in response, Gator groaned lowly, bucking his hips up to push his fat cock in all the way into your throbbing hole. The moan that escaped your mouth was pornographic, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Gator.” 

“Yeah? Dumbass hasn’t fucked you yet?” he moaned as you started bouncing on his cock, the feeling of his balls hitting against your skin making you squeeze around him. “What- fuck, what a stupid guy.”

You cried out as he fucked up into you deep. Both his hands were gripping your hips tightly to keep you in place, guiding you on the length of his cock, and you didn’t mind that he had basically taken over, setting his own pace. 

“M-missed you,” you mumbled again, voice cracking. You leaned your head forward, kissing his neck a few times. You found it a little embarrassing, how he was still clothed and you were completely naked on top of him. But it was also a little hard to care with the way he was fucking into you, his length hitting your sweet spot in a way that made your eyes water. You were whimpering and whining, body burning with pleasure. 

“I know,” he replied, “I missed this too, fuck. My poor baby, haven’t been fucked in months, huh?”

“I- I haven’t,” you mumbled. 

“Poor thing,” he cooed, pushing some hair out of your eyes. “My poor, sweet, pretty thing.”

You whined and whimpered, clawing at his shirt to hold onto something, the pleasure overtaking you in a way you couldn’t handle anymore. You could barely speak, incoherent mumbles leaving your mouth, and Gator knew you were close. 

“Are you gonna come, sweetheart?” Gator purred softly in your ear. 

You nodded, whining softly, feeling his thumb rub against your clit, the pleasure swirling inside you starting to build up further. Gator’s breaths became rapid as he thrusted his cock up with more force.

It was difficult to tell who came first. The way you were burying your face in the crook of his neck, pleasure hazing over your mind as you clenched around his cock, the way he was moaning beneath you. His thrusts slowed as he came inside you. You couldn’t help but sigh contentedly, you’d missed the way he filled you up. 

Cheeks flushed, you glanced down at him, the way his hair was now messed up, the cloudy look in his eyes as he tried to level his breathing. He was avoiding your gaze, much like he usually did after he came.

After a few more moments, you tried to get off his lap, but he gripped your hips suddenly to keep you in place. 

“Not yet,” Gator mumbled, squeezing your hip. He placed a few kisses across your neck, then leaned back in the seat, glancing up at you. His hand was caressing your ass. “You’re coming back to mine, yeah?”

You gulped. You could feel his cum dripping out of you, his cock still buried deep inside. The shame of what had just happened was hitting you, making your stomach turn with guilt. You had no idea what this meant for your relationship with Gator. Or your boyfriend. But still, you nodded.

“Yeah, sure.” 

[buckysgrace]

could i get a soft gator fic? like a lazy sunday morning where gator is all lovey dovey over reader?

Of course!! All fluff but some suggestive content of course <3

By now you were usually dressed your best, hair pristine and makeup neat before you debated on which dress you'd be wearing to church. Gator would usually be dressed at the door, hollering for you to hurry so Roy didn't whine about having to hold your spots.

This morning was different as the sun drifted in through the windows, the AC tickling your curtains as the hot rays warmed your floorboards.

Gator was facing you, his expression calm and hair relaxed and gel free. You could see a glimpse of his chest hair underneath the sheets, the blanket discarded on the floor to his side. He had a bad habit of being a blanket hog, then kicking it off in the middle of the night.

You stretched your arms out over your head, his fingers still lying lazily against your highest ribs. His breathing was deep, relaxed and peaceful. You hated to wake him, but you also knew that he hated to sleep in late.

"Gator," You hummed as you shifted over, grinning at the way he jolted before he blinked at you tiredly. He had an irritated look on his expression as he rubbed at his eyes, wiping the sleep away, "We're going to be late for church."

"Fuck church." His voice was raspy, groggy as his eyes remained shut. You felt your jaw part in surprise at his lanugage.

"Gator!"

"Just teasin'," He smiled lazily as he rubbed at his eyes, "Don't worry I'll pray to God about it. Just not today." He sighed, his eyelids remaining shut as he pulled his pillow closer to his head with one hand. The other one remained on your skin.

"Are you going to sleep all day?" You teased him as you brushed your fingers through his hair. You counted the moles on his face, admiring the little freckles that painted his nose. He looked a little tanner, probably from the summer sun and being stuck doing so much farm work recently.

"Mhm." He hummed along, although you weren't sure if he was agreeing with your statement or not. He had worked late last night, he deserved a day to sleep in.

"I'm going to make breakfast," You told him softly, leaning on your elbow to kiss his cheek, "You kicked the blanket onto the floor again." You added as you shifted out of bed, taking careful movements to not distrub him too greatly.

You tossed the comforter over him, ensuring that it covered his exposed skin before you worked on getting yourself ready for the morning. A quick shower and scrub of your teeth left you wide awake. You dressed lazily today, a pair of leggings and a shirt that was a little too baggy.

Breakfast consisted of some of the eggs you had gathered the day prior, some bacon that Gator had grabbed from the butchers in town, and of course, pancakes. He was fairly fond of them.

"Mornin'," Gator mumbled as he slid his arms around your waist, his chin falling to the crook of your neck as you struggled to stir up the scrambled eggs, "Smells good."

You turned your head slightly, finally greeted with his big pretty eyes. They were usually big and brown, but today you noticed a hint of grin hiding in them through the sunlight.

"About time you woke up," You teased, inviting the soft peck he placed against your lips, "Did you sleep good?" You asked, tasting the mint on his lips. "Always do with you," He grinned as he took a step back, his hair still slightly messy from waking up, "What about you?" He mumbled, the muscles in his back staring you down as he poured himself a glass of coffee. You forced yourself to turn, not wanting anything to end up burning on the stove.

"Not bad," You hummed in agreement, "You kept kicking me last night." You teased him playfully, still sure that he fought people in his sleep. It explained the blanket that always ended up on the floor as well.

"Sorry," He smiled sheepishly as he pulled his coffee cup back from his lips, "Not too hard?" He looked at you for clarity, a guilty expression lingering on his features as if that would somehow be his fault.

"Must've been dreaming about riding the horses again." You waved the spatula at him teasingly before you slid the skillet with eggs off of the hot burner. The pancakes were already resting on a plate, leaving only the sizzling bacon to finish.

"Funny," He grumbled as he took another drink of his coffee, "What do you want to do today?" He asked curiously, tilting his head as he took another drink from his mug.

"Nothing," You answered honestly as you finished picking the bacon out of the hot pan, "We didn't go to church, so we might as well stay home." You grinned, feeling like a day in felt nice. You could pick back up on where you left off on Golden Girls.

His eyes were warm, mischievous as he watched you. He cocked his eyebrows for a moment as he tilted his head back and forth, biting down on his soft pink lips.

"Not really hungry," He admitted as you began to make his plate, his strong arms wrapping around your waist once again as he nuzzled his nose against your neck. You laughed, squinting your eyes shut at the way it tickled, "At least not for that."

"You're the funny one," You remarked with a grin, setting the plate down as he began to kiss all over your face, "You're gonna risk your breakfast getting cold?"

"We have a microwave for a reason," He smiled as he bent down to peck your lips, staying there for just a moment too long, "But after breakfast works too." He smiled as he flicked his tongue out, licking your lips playfully.

"You're a mess," You grinned as you pressed a finger against his chest, trying to ignore the way your stomach was twisting with butterflies, "Eat your breakfast." You commanded playfully, holding the plate out for him to grab.

"As long as you're dessert." He smirked, smacking his palm across your ass cheek before he scattered to the living room.

[allthingsfangirl101]

*Coworkers With Benefits – Gator Tillman

Warnings: sneaking around kink, protected sex, public sex, rough sex, language

A moan got stuck in my throat when someone walked up behind me and started making out with my neck.

"Gator," I gasped when he bit my earlobe. "Baby. . . We're at work. . . What if. . . Holy shit, baby." I couldn't resist pushing my ass back against his hips and start grinding against him.

"Fuck, baby girl," Gator moaned as he moved with me. "I love fucking at work. It's so fucking sexy."

"Yeah," I moaned. "But it could also get me fired."

I gasped when he pulled away and grabbed my arms, roughly turning me around.

"I would never let that happen," he said under his breath.

"But I'm your receptionist," I whispered. "And isn't there a rule about officers dating or dating someone. . ."

Gator cut me off by grabbing my face and pressing his lips back to mine. We didn't finish that conversation. Instead, we focused on finishing what we had barely started.

He glanced around the empty station before turning back to me with a smirk. I felt the butterflies in my stomach go crazy as he grabbed my hand and pulled me into his dad's office.

The second the door was closed, he threw me against it. He smashed his lips onto mine as he trapped me between him and the door. I moaned and reached around to grab his ass as he started grinding against me.

Gator tore away from my lips and started kissing my neck as his hands slid down my body. One hand found my ass while the other found the waistband of my pants.

I leaned my head against the door as Gator licked up and down my neck.

"Come on, baby girl," he grunted as he slammed his body against mine. "Moan for me, sexy."

"We should really stop," I gasped between heavy breaths.

"I can't," Gator grunted as he picked me up and threw me onto the couch in his dad's office. I moaned loudly as he started kissing my neck, slowly moving his lips down my chest.

"What if your dad comes back?" I arched my back and moaned when he bit my collarbone. Gator's lips continued to suck on my collarbone as he unbuttoned my uniform. The second it was open, Gator attached his lips to my chest.

"Fuck!" I yelled. I felt him let out a deep chuckle against the skin of my chest as I started taking off his pants.

"No one is here," he growled against the space between my breasts.

"Then what are we waiting for?"

That's all Gator needed to hear. In a matter of minutes, we were completely undressed, rolling our bodies against each other on his dad's couch.

I kissed his chest as he moved to grab a condom he had hidden in the back of the table at the end of the couch. His lips returned to mine as he leaned down and put it on. The second it was on, Gator grabbed my hips. I wrapped my leg around his waist, squeezing to tell him I was ready.

We let out matching moans that turned into grunts as Gator pushed into me. We instantly started thrusting in sync. With each thrust, our moans got louder and our movements got rougher.

"Holy shit, Officer Sexy," I gasped when he pressed against my G-spot. "Keep going."

"You got it, Officer Baby Girl," he moaned through clenched teeth. I loudly moaned/yelled his name when he started pushing harder and rougher into me.

"Fucking hell, Gator!"

Gator shut me up by wrapping his mouth around my right breast, using his tongue to play with my nipple. While he satisfied me, I started doing the one thing that drove him crazy.

"Fuck," he moaned against my breast as I squeezed myself around him. With a few more moans and thrusts, we pushed each other over the edge and forced us to reach our peaks.

"Shit!" Gator gasped as we released in sync. He kept himself inside me as we came down from our orgasms. When we had barely caught our breaths, Gator slowly pulled out of me. Before climbing off me, he leaned down and kissed me.

"Get back to work," he smirked with his face inches from mine. "Or I might have to bring you back in here and spank you."

"Kinky," I giggled.

"You know you love it," he said, lowering his voice.

"Just as much as I love you," I said before I could stop.

Gator leaned back and studied me. I opened and closed my mouth, unable to form any more words. Before either one of us could respond, Gator's phone started ringing. As he went to answer it, I quickly started getting dressed.

"Hey, Dad."

I could feel his eyes on me as I finished getting dressed, but I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

"Yeah," I heard him say as I walked out of Roy's office. "I'm at the station. What do you need?"

* * * * *

Gator's POV

After Y/N's confession and going back to work, she didn't talk to me. It seemed as if she refused to be in the same room with me. I wanted her to be. I needed her to be. I was still trying to wrap my head around her confession, but I didn't want her thinking that I didn't love her back.

Of course, I did.

Y/N was the only one in town who looked at me like I was me and not my dad's son. She listened to me. She talked to me. She made me laugh. She made me smile. She made me happy. And I wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of my life making her happy.

"Hey, have you seen Y/N?" I asked a random officer whose name I'd never bothered to learn.

"I think she went home," he shrugged.

"What do you mean?" I panicked.

"She said she had a migraine," the guy said as he eyed me. He rolled his eyes before going back to work. I went back to my desk, unable to wrap my head around this.

Y/N left work.

She left because of what happened. She left because she told me she loved me and I didn't say anything back. Instead, I took a call from my dad. She thinks I don't care about her.

I stared at the file in my hands, but nothing was sinking in. When the phone started ringing, I answered it without breaking the staring contest.

"What?"

"Is this Gator Tillman?"

I slowly put the file down and sat up. "Yes, this is him."

"Hi. I'm calling from Sunrise Hospital."

"What?"

"We have a Y/F/N Y/L/N here in the emergency room," the nurse continued, "and we have you listed as her emergency contact."

"I'm her. . . Wait, what happened to her?"

"We couldn't get much out of her before she passed out," she explained, making my stomach drop. "It seems it was a home invasion gone wrong."

"Shit," I mumbled. I looked around the station, hoping my dad was nearby. The nurse started to say something, but I hung up and ran out of my office when I saw my dad walk by.

"Dad!" I yelled.

"What's your problem?" He scoffed.

"Y/N is in the hospital."

"Who?"

I pushed down my anger and clarified, "Y/N, Dad. Our receptionist."

"Oh," he said with no emotion in his voice. "Right. Her."

I tried even harder to control my anger as I explained, "Apparently, someone broke into her home earlier today."

"We didn't get the call," he shrugged.

I hadn't even thought about that. I didn't care. There were more important things to worry about.

"She's hurt, Dad."

"Guess we better get to the hospital," he sighed.

"We should send some officers to her place," I said quickly. My dad sent me a look and I didn't care if he could read me. He debated for a second before sighing again and nodding his head.

As my dad drove us, I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin. If my dad caught on to my weirdness, he didn't say anything. The second we arrived, I practically ran inside. I asked the nearest nurse where Y/N was but she couldn't help me.

"Then why the hell are you standing here?!" I snapped. "Find me someone who actually knows shit."

"Will you calm down?" My dad sighed, saving the nurse I was yelling at. "I'm sure Y/N's fine. The guy was an idiot. He attacked the police's assistant. We'll find him."

"Receptionist," I automatically corrected. My dad sent me a weird look, but I was focused on the door separating me from Y/N.

"What is your problem?" He scoffed. I held my breath as he figured it out. He let out a deep chuckle when he connected the dots. "How long?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice dropping.

"How long have you been sleeping with Y/N?"

"It's not. . . We just. . . We started a few months after she started working for us," I sighed, giving in.

"She's been working for us for over a year," he chuckled.

I waited for him to say something else, but he didn't. Instead, he sat next to me and patted my shoulder.

"I'll go to the nurses' station and find out what's going on with your girl," he said softer than I've ever heard him speak. "Then I'll make her break-in a top priority. You stay here and wait for her to wake up."

He patted my shoulder once before standing up. As he walked away, I spoke up.

"Thanks, Dad."

* * * * *

Y/N was in surgery when we arrived at the hospital. If I hadn't hung up the phone or had been more patient with the nurses, they would've told me that.

Apparently, Y/N took a pretty bad beating from the robber. He knocked her around and tried to kick in her ribs. One of her broken ribs almost punctured her lung. They had to be extremely careful to prevent her lung from completely collapsing.

I lost track of how long Y/N was in surgery. I went back and forth between sitting restlessly and pacing across the waiting room. My dad was in and out as he talked to the officers working this case. He tried to get me to wait at home, but he quickly found that I wasn't going anywhere.

"It's serious, isn't it?" My dad asked as he came back from checking in with the officers.

"Y/N's injuries? I don't know. I hope it's not too serious. I mean, they said that she was just. . ."

"I didn't mean her injuries, Gator," he cut me off. "I meant you and her. It's serious, isn't it?"

"I think so," I said, finally sitting down. "I mean. . . She told me. . . And I feel. . ."

"Spit it out, Gator."

"I love her," I blurted out. I let out a deep sigh before repeating, "I love her, Dad."

"Does she feel the same?"

His question surprised me. "She does," I said, my voice dropping. "She actually told me earlier this morning."

"And I'm guessing you didn't tell her you felt the same?" He asked, almost laughing.

"I was caught off-guard," I sighed, angrily running my fingers through my hair. I jumped up and started pacing again. "Of course, I've thought about how I felt about her over the last couple of months. How could I not? I've never felt like this, Dad. Like ever. She makes me insanely happy. I could be having the worst day of my life and the second she walks into the room, it's better. It doesn't matter what horrible things are happening that day. Seeing her makes all of it go away. I can't imagine my life without her, Dad. And the thought of some low-life, punk-ass, son of a. . ."

"Mr. Tillman, you asked me to come get you the second Ms. Y/L/N was out of surgery?" A nurse cut off my rambling.

"How is she?!"

"The surgery went great," she smiled at me. "In fact, she's awake. And she's asking for you."

I followed at the nurse's heels as she led me down the hallway. When she got to a certain room, she stopped. She turned toward me, but I didn't bother to listen to her tell me to go in.

I swung the door open, instantly freezing at the sight of Y/N in the hospital bed. I held my breath as she slowly turned her head toward me. The small smile that spread across her face made my heart jump into my throat.

"Gator," she said weakly. She started to say something else, but I ran to her side. I grabbed her face and smashed my lips onto hers. Our lips instantly started moving in sync as she reached up and grabbed my arms.

"I love you too," I gasped as I broke the kiss. I looked into her eyes as they filled with tears. "I didn't get the chance to confess this to you earlier," I continued. "But I should've. I should've ignored that call and told you how much I love you."

"Gator. . ."

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," I sighed as I sat on the edge of her bed, holding both of her hands in mine. "I know our relationship has mainly been us sneaking around, but I don't want that anymore. I don't. I want a real relationship with you, Y/N. I want to be able to drive you to work. I want to be able to take you to lunch. I want to be able to kiss you goodbye before going out to answer a call. I want to be able to hold you in my arms when I get back and you're relieved. I want to be able to take you home each night. I want to be able to warn the new officers to leave you alone because you're taken. I want to be able to have everyone we work with know that you're mine. I want everyone in town to know that I love you."

Y/N cut me off by grabbing my face and smashing her lips onto mine. We relaxed back into the hospital bed with me slightly hovering over her as our lips moved in sync. We would've continued what we did in my dad's office this morning if someone hadn't walked in.

"Oh!" My dad laughed. "Sorry for the interruption. Then again, a girl who just took a beating shouldn't have a two-hundred-pound man on top of her."

"Dad," I said between my teeth. I sat up and started to get off the bed, but Y/N grabbed my arm. When I looked at her, all I could see was fear in her eyes.

"I'm right here," I whispered as I sat on the edge of the bed. "I won't leave you."

"Promise?" She asked, her voice breaking.

"I promise," I smiled. My smile fell when I saw the look on my dad's face.

My dad cleared his throat and replaced this amazing tension between Y/N and me with an awkward tension. "We should really talk about what happened, Y/N."

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice still soft as she paid special attention to the hospital blanket. I watched as she slowly looked up at my dad. "I know you have a procedure to follow and questions to ask. Go ahead."

"First things first," he started, "did you get a good look at who did this to you? Was it a group? Was it only one man? Was it an ex-boyfriend? Was it anyone you recognized?"

"It was one guy," she cut him off.

"Wait," I said slowly. "Y/N, do you know who did this to you?"

She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. "You arrested him last week," she said, her voice soft. "I think his name was Dennis Jones or Johnson?"

"Dennis Jackson?" I asked, subconsciously tightening my hands into fists as I jumped up. "The asshole who gets drunk every Friday night and spends all day Saturday in the holding cell, just to leave and get drunk again Saturday night? He did this to you?!"

"Yeah," she said, her voice shaky.

"Did he say anything to you?" My father asked her.

"Not really," she stuttered.

"Not really?" He challenged. I sent him a glare but he didn't even bother to look at me.

"I mean. . ." She explained slowly. "He kept mumbling about 'the perfect payback'. He wouldn't say anything else."

"My guess," Dad sighed as he turned toward me, "he knows about you two and wanted to get back at you by hurting you."

"About us. . ." Y/N didn't finish her question as my father pointed at her. "Gator?" She whispered.

"I told my dad," I said softly.

"You what?!" She gasped. Her anger was taken away when it turned to pain.

I jumped forward and helped her lay back down. "It's going to be fine," I stuttered.

"He could fire me," she said through clenched teeth.

"I'm not going to fire you," my dad sighed. "I don't care who my son is sleeping with this week. Is there anything else we need to know about the attack?"

"No," she said, not looking away from me. "Nothing else."

Y/N and I stared at each other as my father left. The second the door closed, I defended myself.

"I know how that sounded," I said quickly. "But my Dad is just an ass. You know that you're the only woman that I've been sleeping with. I'm really not that big of a player."

"Gator. . ."

"I'm not like that," I said again. "The town just likes to spread rumors. I swear, Y/N, you are the only girl that I've been seeing lately. I'm not cheating on you. I would never do that to you. I swear."

"Gator. . ."

"I would never cheat on a woman. Especially a woman like you, Y/N. You're different than any girl I've been with. And to be honest, I haven't been with a lot of women. But you. . . You're different. Every time I wake up next to you, all I can think of is that I'm not good enough. You deserve a guy who's as incredible as you are. You're too good for me, Y/N. My biggest fear is losing you. I don't want you to wake up one morning and realize that you deserve better and you leave me to go find it."

Y/N grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the edge of the bed. She grabbed my face and pulled me to her. I smiled the second her lips touched mine. As our lips moved in sync, Y/N pulled me so I was hovering over her. I broke the kiss and pressed my forehead to hers.

"I love you, Y/N," I whispered. "And I'm really sorry that I didn't tell you sooner."

"It's okay," she whispered back to me. "At least you told me."

"I promise to always say it back."

"I love you, Gator," she giggled.

"I love you too, Y/N."

Part 2