#gator Tillman fic

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Gator Tillman x Stripper!Reader

18+ Only! Minors DNI!

CW: Porn w/plot. AFAB!Reader. No use of Y/N. Pet names. Subby!Pathetic!Gator. Gator is lovesick. Mentions of past infidelity (no sex beforehand, but visits the reader on the regular). Girlfriend/ex-girlfriend talk. Oral (m receiving). Unprotected p in v. Creampie. Cocky!Gator at the end. Basically two toxic people.

WC: 4.7K (Oops!)

It had been a very productive night at The Tender Trap. You were just finishing up another set under the rush of the pink and red neon lights, gathering the falling tips by the bucket load as he walked in.

Looking as forlorn as ever, head hung low, his usually slicked back hair falling in and around his face and what looked to be a bruise forming under his eye.

You knew the look all too well. He ordered a beer at the bar and took his usual seat in the back taking up the entire bench, stretching his legs out still in uniform sans his kevlar and service weapon. For someone who liked to stay low key, he sure didn't know how to act the part.

You watched from the corner of your eye as his eyes trailed over you. Taking your time to slowly retreat into the dressing room, swaying your hips not bothering to cover your bare chest as you go.

You enjoyed making him wait, only making him more anxious and grumpy, all worked up just that way you liked.

As you sat at your small station reapplying your lipstick, one of the other girls walked in throwing a smirk your way.

“Your boy's out there looking for you.” She snickered.

“He's not my boy.” Replying flatly.

“You tell him that?” Laughing out, as you caught her reflection behind you.

No. You didn't have to tell him.

Gator Tillman only came around when he was fighting with his girlfriend though it seemed to be getting more frequent. You knew all the juicy, sorted details.

Finally emerging from the back, he was nursing his beer looking at the stage with his head tilted slightly, showing signs of boredom, thumb nail slowly peeling the label on his bottle.

Spotting you, his back stiffened sitting up a little straighter making your grin grow a little wider as you passed other patrons and ogling men vying for your attention.

His eyes remained steady on the stage as you sauntered over, trying to stay aloof as if he weren't here just to see you, pointedly avoiding your sultry gaze.

“Took you long enough,” he sassed, taking another swig of his beer as you sat down.

“Oh, I'm sorry Tillman. Did I keep you waiting?” Sassing right back. “Didn't even realize you were here.” Clicking your tongue.

“Nah, sweetheart, not at all. Enjoyin’ the view, drinkin’ a beer. What more could a guy ask for?” He grinned into the bottle, still looking away from you.

Your hand glides across the top of the padded bench seat, hand grasping his thigh making him choke on his next swig, quickly pulling the bottle from his lips wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

The glare he sent your way only made you giggle before you spoke.

“What're you in for tonight? Need a chat…” your fingertips tiptoed up the expanse of his thigh, watching as his breath hitched. “Or a little something more?” Licking your lips in anticipation of the inevitable answer.

He pushed your hand away, setting the beer down.

“Can we at least go to the back before ya’ start gettin' all handsy?” He hissed out, finally looking at you.

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“What’s your problem? Not like your girlfriend or daddy would ever set foot in here.” Getting up as you spoke.

He lightly grabbed your wrist, preventing you from leaving his space.

“Don't. It's just… ya’ know how it is.” Deflecting. His go to before you can get him relaxed.

“No, I don’t know. But,” sighing and melting into his touch. “Come on, you can tell me about it.”

His hand trailed down, gripping yours, letting you pull him up as his large fingers wrap around yours. You'd thought numerous times about how they might feel wrapped around your neck or stuffed inside your greedy cunt.

He held tight, following you into the back, watching the way your ass looked in nothing but the thong you wore, thighs pushed out with the way your tights were digging into the plush of them. He was already hard, anticipation thrumming through him as you led him down the small hall to a private room.

It was a revolving cycle. He'd either fight with his girlfriend or on some occasions, his dad, and come find you. You were a stress relief, a way to blow off steam without any judgment.

Yeah, you might cost him an arm and a leg but you were worth it.

You stopped momentarily, whispering something to the bouncer he couldn't quite discern over the thumping base and loud music this close to the stage. The guy nodded, as you looked back and began to lead him once more, taking him down a hall where the music began to fade.

“Want another beer before we get started?” Calling over your shoulder, an almost predatory toothy grin thrown his way.

“Nah,” answering quickly. It was always the same. He wasn't interested in drinks or waiting any longer.

You enter the very last room at the end of the hall. The same red walls as the club with a small couch situated at the far end and a pole in the middle. The music was filtering in through speakers hung in the corners.

He continued past you making his way over to the couch as you locked the door. Much like in the bar, he took up most of the space. Wide and domineering.

“You never answered me out there. What're you in for tonight?” Taking long, slow strides toward him.

“I don't really wanna talk tonight.” He huffed out, as you stopped short in front of him standing between his legs.

“Someone's really grumpy.” Tilting your head, hands slowly moving up his chest to his shoulders moving your face close to his, nails digging slightly into the leather of his jacket as you trailed small kisses across his jaw.

You pulled back, gripping his chin forcefully making him look up at you.

“That little girlfriend of yours piss you off that bad?” You chuckled, but he found no amusement in your words, moving out of your grasp with a pout. You found him adorable when he was pissed.

“Poor baby,” you tsked. Pushing up and away from him. Giving him a nice sway of your hips as you walked toward the pole, gripping it and spinning back around.

“Now, Gator, how long have we done this little number? Huh? You still trying to play coy?” You began dancing to the rhythm of the music filling the room as he watched you but stayed silent.

“I know when something is bothering you.” You spoke as you continued to dance. He had to adjust himself, cock now straining the constricting fabric of his cargos, almost painfully.

“If you don't tell me now, you know it'll just eat away at you. You can't even have any proper fun.” Dropping to the floor, crawling toward him at an agonizing pace, never taking your eyes off of him.

You slowly sat in between his legs, hands splayed on either side of his thighs so close to his length, he let out a shuttering breath as you began to lightly outline his cock with your fingertip, feeling it kick up beneath your touch.

Your number one rule was that you never fucked a client. No matter what. Each time you saw him, it became harder and harder not to give in. The way he would fall apart for you drove you absolutely crazy. He was pathetic, in all the best ways.

You laid your head on his thigh, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Gator, baby, tell me what's wrong. You'll feel so much better once you get it off your chest.” Your fake pout and doe eyes were too much.

“Fine. Fuck!” He threw his head back, exasperated because this little game you played wouldn't end until you got what you wanted.

“We fought. Again. We… I… broke up with her.” He sighed, unwilling to meet your gaze.

“Oh.” You lifted your head at that, standing to straddle his lap, legs on either side of his. Shifting to accommodate your frame as you sat down, immediately grinding your hips into his.

“Yeah…” coming out all breathy, as he hesitantly placed his hands on your hips.

“Poor baby,” continuing to move your hips across his lap, his cock hard against you with each pass and swirl igniting something within your own core.

“She… she wanted to get married and I didn't. It would have never worked out. She's just so different from… me.” What he had wanted to say was you. In the back of his mind, he knew this little thing between the two of would never really work out either. He was infatuated with the thought of you. Outside of the club he didn't know anything about you.

“That's such a shame.” Your own words coming out a little breathy, leaning close to his ear, lips pressing right under his jaw. You knew you shouldn't but you pressed in further lips sucking lightly, testing his reaction. When a small whimper escaped him, you only sucked harder, leaving a small mark behind.

His cock twitched, hips bucking up as he pressed you further down searching for more friction, blunt fingertips digging into your soft flesh. You had to bite your lower lip, suppressing a moan before it slipped out. It would be too easy to slip him out of his pants and slide down his shaft, feeling your own wetness pooling in your skimpy thongs, sticking to your folds.

Something, if you admitted to yourself, you'd also thought about numerous times. You'd heard the rumors. You'd felt his cock and knew it was big.

“You like that, Gator? Want me to mark you up? Let that little girlfriend and daddy know what you really like? What you've been up to?” You licked his pulse point, debating on sinking your teeth into his bared throat.

“Yeah.” He huffed out.

“Oh, Gator.” You pulled back, taking a hard look into his eyes. Glossed over, pupils taking over his mossy irises, now almost black.

“You'd regret it in the morning. I'm sure she'd see you and cry and you'll apologize and she'll take you back.” You chuckled, pushing off his chest slightly but he had a firm grip on your hips.

“I won't regret it.” He gritted out, nose to nose with you, lips daring to ghost over yours. “Don't you see what you do to me? I'd let you do anything to me.” Bucking his hips again for emphasis.

You'd done this cat and mouse a dozen times, always ending the same. You'd dance for him, grind on his cock all the while letting his hands roam over your hips and thighs, and even that was pushing it while trying to maintain a level of professionalism. But you always made it fun. He could vent while you'd take his mind off of whatever was bothering him, making him cum in his pants and sending him home.

“I know you would.” Taking his hands and shoving them off your waist. “But I have a rule and I'm not about to break it for you.”

Standing and striding back over to the pole, leaving his mouth gaping to stare after you.

“Why not?” He asks earnestly. As you begin to sway with the song, his eyes suddenly drifting down your hips and legs as if mesmerized by the small movements.

“You know I don't fuck clients. Period.” You shrug, turning back to him. “Even if you are a newly single man, if that's even true.”

He tilts his head for a moment, regarding you.

“You don't think I see the way ya’ look for me in the crowd when you're dancin’ up there? Or try to hold back those moans when you're back here alone with me?” He quickly rose, closing the distance between the two of you, suddenly nose to nose with him again.

“Darlin’ I think,” nose nudging yours. “You want me as bad as I want you. Tell me I'm wrong.” Hands finding your sides once more, bringing you flush to him.

Your hands found their way to his chest, to steady yourself, knees almost going weak at his insinuations. Had you been too distracted letting your facade slip? Had he seen right through you? You weren't sure but he seemed to be quickly gaining the upper hand, which simply would not do.

“Gator, baby, I think you're sadly mistaken. I try to make everyone feel like they're the only ones in the room. It's part of the show.” It slightly gnawed at you, watching the way he deflated at your words, lips pouted and eyes down turned, so utterly pathetic when he's sad.

“Go sit on the couch.” Patting his chest as he stepped away, giving yourself a reprieve in the process.

He sighed behind you, plopping back down on the faux leather seat sinking further into the cushion as you wandered back over taking up residency in his lap once more, facing away from him this time.

You swirled your hips, cock pressed hard against your ass.

“Little help?” Looking over your shoulder at him, wiggling your back. His fingers skimmed up, sending a wave of goosebumps across your skin, as he untied your top.

Lifting it above your head, you rose back up, throwing it across the room and turned back around to face him planting your knees on either side of him. Tits now eye level with him but he was looking up at you instead, making your cheeks heat. Why the fuck was he looking at you like that?

You sat back in his lap, hands roaming up the expanse of his clothed abdomen and chest as you leaned back into him, lips grazing his ear as you spoke.

“Okay Gator, maybe I have thought about you and what this big, fat cock could do to my pussy.” Grabbing his bulge for emphasis, squeezing him through his pants as he released a breathy moan.

“So, I-I was right?” You pulled back to look at him, shit eating grin across his face, eyebrow raised in your direction.

“Don't get cocky, or I'll stop this before we even get started.” Quickly shooting back, as he nodded.

“Good boy.” Hands gliding up under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, as he helped you pull it off and toss it somewhere across the room. “Now, lay back and relax.”

Some shitty country song was playing but you found your rhythm anyway, grinding against him. His eyes drifted to your breasts, down to where your clothed pussy rubbed against his cock.

“You fucking anybody on the side or was it just virgin Mary?”

He looked a little surprised by your question.

“Just her, but uh, it's been a while.” Sheepishly answering, cheeks suddenly tinged the prettiest shade of pink.

“Ok, good. I don't have any condoms, unless you brought one?” He shook his head. “I'm clean and on the pill. If you still want to do this.”

“Fuck yeah.” He nodded enthusiastically before you grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at you.

“Undo your belt and pants. I want to see what I'm working with.” He didn't need to be told twice, hands quickly going to work, pulling his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to spring free, laying between the two of you. He was much bigger than you initially anticipated. Eyes going a little wide with surprise.

He was long, and thick with a ruddy tip, already leaking a pearly bead at the slit. You licked your lips and looked back up to his smug face.

“Ya’ okay darlin’?” Finding a little humor in your sudden stupor.

Quickly flipping your demeanor smirking up at him, devilish glint in your eye as you moved from his lap to the floor settling between his thighs.

“It's a lot bigger than I expected, Gator. I'm not sure you'll fit.” Looking up through your lashes at him, laying it on nice and thick.

“Fuck, y-ya’ don't think so? My gi… my ex always said it hurt too much. Couldn't get more than half before she was cryin’.” You could imagine. His poor little girlfriend didn't realize what she was getting into with him.

You were anything but a good girl, moving closer to his raging erection and pursing your lips letting saliva pool before spitting it onto his shaft.

“Fuck!” He hissed out looking down at you with hooded eyes, as you gingerly wrapped your hand around him letting your thumb swirl at his head collecting his precum before spreading it down his cock and back up.

He squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head back onto the couch. If he was this far gone from just a touch you weren't sure he would make it to the big finale.

“Eyes on me, big boy.” Squeezing at the base, eliciting his attention as he looked back to you.

“That's it. Couldn't let you miss this.” Saying with a salacious grin before sticking your tongue out to lick from his girthy base all the way up to his tip. The way he whimpered caught you off guard, sending a fresh wave of arousal straight to your already soaked cunt.

Your eyes never left his as you closed your lips around his leaking head, swirling your tongue and humming around the taste of him.

“Mmmm, Gator you taste so good. Did… what's her name ever do this for you?” You asked, it suddenly occurred to you that he'd never said her name out loud.

He shook his head, swallowing thickly, “No. She thought it was too…” trailing off.

“Too what? Dirty?” Kitten licking at his head before finally taking him fully into your mouth, surprising him as his hips bucked up, shoving him further down your throat, making you gag momentarily, before relaxing taking him a little further.

“Oh fuck… shit… that's… goddamn you're a dirty fuckin' girl.” He gritted out, eyes rolling back, all semblance of composure now gone as you began to bob your head, hollowing your cheeks with your hand stroking what your mouth couldn't fit.

“Wait… wait… slow down,” he suddenly huffed out. Trying to catch his breath, as you stilled and pulled off with a slick pop.

“Too much?” Looking back up at him with doe eyes and lips glistening with his arousal.

“Fuck… just fuck me… please?” He sounded pathetic; brow pinched with frustration at his pleading words. “I've thought about this for way too long. I want yo-your pussy.”

“What a needy baby.” Standing back up and planting yourself back on his lap. Just a thin layer of fabric separating the two of you now as you straddled his cock, feeling the heat of him pressed against you.

He leaned in, lips searching for yours, but you pulled back, hands on his chest holding him there.

“No kissing.”

“You'll fuck me raw but draw the line at kissin’?” Confusion flashing across his features.

“Yeah Tillman, I can't have you falling in love with me. This is a one time thing.” You giggled, pulling his hands up and placing them on your breasts as you began to move your hips, dick catching your clit, eliciting a moan from your lips but you didn't hold back this time letting it escape.

“Ya’ sound so pretty. Can I?” You looked back at him as he nodded toward your boobs still held in his hands.

“Can you what? Use your big words.”

“Can I suck your tits? They're so perfect an’ pretty. You're so fuckin' pretty.” Watching the way he kneaded them between his calloused hands as he spoke.

“Go ahead.” He quickly ducked his head, hand trailing to your lower back pressing you further into him as he sucked one of pert nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue before lightly biting, making you arch into him before he switched to the other side giving it the same attention.

While he was mildly distracted, you took the opportunity to reach down and slide your panties to the side exposing you fully to him, grinding down once more. He popped off, almost breathless looking down between the two of you.

Wasting no time, you raised yourself up, guiding him to your entrance, letting his tip catch slightly looking him in the eye. You both looked a little desperate.

“You sure you want to fuck me, Gator? This dirty, little stripper? You could go back to your girlfriend right now.” The last part came out a little breathy when you sank down a fraction, but it was enough to slightly short circuit your brain.

“Please.” Slipped past his lips so quietly, if you hadn't been looking directly at him you would have missed it.

You watched his eyes roll back, as you began to slide down his aching cock, moans from both of you filled the air. Inch by inch, you took him further than he had imagined anyone could. If you weren't so soaked and horny you knew it would be a stretch for you.

His hands found your waist, grip tight as he dug into your supple flesh as you continued to sink further onto him.

As you neared the base, his girth began splitting you open in the best possible way as you stilled your movements, giving yourself a moment to adjust.

He refused to open his eyes, as good as it felt, he was afraid if he looked at the way your pussy had engulfed him, he'd burst right then and there.

You saw the way he held an almost pained expression. His jaw was slack, breathing heavily, already absolutely wrecked.

Moving your hips back up, removing him almost entirely, cock head staying buried in your tight heat, you swirled your hips slightly before working back down.

“Oh my God! Fuck!” He all but cried out, whimpering when you took him a little deeper this time, halting when his cock all but nudged at your cervix.

“Fuck! You're so deep!” You moaned out, grabbing his hand, pressing it to your lower abdomen. “Bet you can feel yourself in there? Huh?”

“Jesus Christ!” He hissed, finally looking down to where the two of you connected.

“No, just me, Gator.” You laughed, pushing his hand away, as you started bouncing lightly at first. His cock massaging your inner walls with each delicious up and down motion.

The way your walls were sucking him in, constricting around him with each pass he wasn't going to last long. Luckily, neither were you. You'd worked both of yourselves up into a fevered frenzy, ready to combust.

His cock was brushing that spot deep within you as you slowed down your movements. Grinding more than a bounce, the patch of hair at the base of his cock catching your clit with each pass igniting that spark in your lower belly. You closed your eyes, letting the feeling take over.

“You want me to cum all over your cock?” You rushed out, hand snaking up, pulling at the locks at the back of his head.

“Yes! Oh, fuck!” He whined out, not sure where his eyes should land, switching between your blissed out face, bouncing tits and back to where your pussy was staking claim to his dick. He was ruined.

Your moans grew louder as you neared your impending release, no longer able to stifle them as you continued to ride him.

His grip on you getting harsher with each passing second, sure to leave finger shaped bruises behind as he grew more desperate.

You felt that white hot heat pooling in your lower belly, as his cock continued to prod up against that spot along your frontal wall that made you see stars. You worked your pelvis a little more back and forth, feeling it again and again with each grind.

“Ahhh! Fuck! Gator, I'm… I'm…” You couldn't get the words out before you started to come undone. Your cunt clamped down around him, practically strangling his cock as he held tight to you, holding your hips steady as he began to fuck up into your tight heat, working you through your release and chasing his own.

Your fingernails dug into his shoulders, as you continued to moan and writhe atop him, trying not to collapse, as he used you like his own personal fuck toy.

A few more sloppy thrusts and he pulled you down on him, crying out as he practically impaled you on his length. He felt his balls tighten while letting out a guttural moan as his release spilled into your tight channel, a few more weak thrusts and he dropped his hands.

Too spent, you didn't move right away as you both sat there, chests heaving, trying to catch your breath.

“Shit,” you growled, knocking you both from a peaceful afterglow. You were seven minutes over his time and lucky that no one had started looking for you yet.

You peeled yourself away from him, hissing as he slipped out of you and pulled your thong back into place.

“Why the rush darlin’?” He asked, adjusting himself back into his pants and sitting up.

“You're over your paid time with me, Gator. This isn't a fucking hangout. Let's go.” Finding his jacket on the floor and tossing it directly at his chest as you pulled your top back on.

You reached for the handle once he had straightened himself up, throwing his jacket back over his shoulders.

“Hey, wait.” He called out before you turned the knob. “You goin’ back to work?”

“After that?” You snorted at the absurdity of it. If you didn't get to the dressing room, he'd be dripping down your leg. “Hell no, I've made enough tonight. I'm going home.”

“Yeah, that's good.” Nodding his head. “Ya’ need a ride?” Looking at you a little hopeful after what had just transpired.

“Gator Tillman, such a gentleman?” You chuckled. “Look, we don't have to do this. It was just sex, that you practically paid for. I'm not your girlfriend, I'm just a good time.” You winked at him, turning the handle but before you could open the door, he was behind you, arm outstretched above your head, palm pressed heavy into the wood.

You looked back at him, wondering if you'd suddenly said something wrong but that shit eating grin was back as he looked down his nose at you, eyes full of mischief.

“Thought I'd try to be nice, instead of just suggestin’ I could take you somewhere and bend you over the bed of my truck. But ya’ don't seem to like nice.” His words traveling straight to your core.

“Good to see that cocky demeanor is still intact, Tillman, but I told you this was a one time thing.” You smirked, pushing at his chest enough to get the door open and slip out, leaving him a little stunned. He watched you disappear down the hall, sighing as he made his way back to the front to pay the rest of his tab.

Once you made it to the dressing room you didn't bother cleaning up, pulling off your tights and throwing on some shorts and a tank top while haphazardly tossing your belongings back into your bag as you quickly exited the back.

You knew you'd fucked up. That lovesick look in his eye told you everything. You could eat this man alive, and he would smile while letting you. All without knowing your real name.

But it's just a little fun, right? What's a little more? You'd already broken your first rule, why not make the most of it?

Pleased to see you'd made it outside first, you propped yourself up against the wall close to the alley and lit a cigarette watching the front.

He finally stepped out, keys in his hand walking over to his truck. When he turned his back, that's when you finally spoke.

“Hey, Tillman!” He quickly turned; eyes wide as you strode up to him. “You still offering that ride?”

Tagging some mooties that might be interested: @hellfirenacht @thecreelhouse @xxbimbobunnyxx

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[muldermuse]

Okay, but dad!Gator is making me feral. He loves and fiercely protects his little family so much! Could you imagine, for whatever reason, it’s like a big deal or something, they have to go back for a day or two, what would it be like running into Roy and/or Glinda

THIS IS UNREAL

IM WRITING A FIC ABOUT IT AS WE SPEAK

brief snippet below the cut

(also will hopefully be done soon- but don’t hold out) ❤️

When Gator Tillman gets nervous, he bites the tattered skin around his thumb until it bleeds. He’s that nervous now that the metallic taste of blood filling his mouth doesn’t stop him. You’re tracing shapes on your 7 month baby bump, you feel huge- definitely bigger than you felt with Cooper. The skin is taut and you consistently feel uncomfortable but you’ve never felt as loved. As soon as you started to show, Gator decided to work later shifts so you can lay in, most mornings you awaken to the feeling or pecks of your husband and your son littering your face. 

“C’mon Coops, she isn’t waking up- we need to give her more kisses” Your eyes are squeezed shut but you can envisage the giddy smile of Cooper’s face as he presses his lips to your cheeks and ‘mwahs’ at the contact. He blesses you with compliments all the time, sometimes it’s when you’re dressed for dinner and other times it’s when you’re hot and uncomfortable after a shower. A precise kiss placed to your head with a steady, “I’m lucky to have you, thank you”. He thanks you everyday. He wants to ensure you know he’s grateful for this.

For his new life.

For his dream come true. 

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[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.”

#gator tillman fic #gator tillman blurb #gator tillman smut #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman #my fanfic #mine #x reader #joe keery x reader #joe keery smut

[spookysteddie]

Always Comin’ Home to You

Gator Tillman x fem!reader

18+ MINOR DNI

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

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

wc: 3.7k

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

...

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

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

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

You. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tilt your head, “no station tonight?” 

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

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

… 

You were right. 

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

Nothing. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sniffle, “is it just your face?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“P-please. Gator please.” 

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

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

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

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

“Need ya to cum on my cock, baby.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Daddy, please. I’m so close.” 

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

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

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

“Please! Fuck! Oh god…” 

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

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

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

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

It’s all you need to fall into bliss. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your chest lightens as you both laugh together.

#gator tillman fargo #Gator Tillman #fargo season 5 #fargo fanfic #Gator Tillman x reader #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman smut #gator tillman fic #gator tillman imagine #gator tillman x y/n #joe keery #joe keery fargo

[wroteclassicaly]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, you’re a damn good teacher…

#kristenwrites #my work #my writing #gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman fic #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman blurb #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman drabble #gator tillman x female reader #gator tillman x fem!reader #fargo fx #fargo season 5 #fargo s5 #fargo fic #fargo fanfic #fargo fanfiction

[rustedhearts]

hard learnin’ (gator tillman x fem!reader)

summary: gator punishes you for flaunting what (isn’t) his.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ main masterlist

tags: spanking, oral (m receiving), spitting (a lot of it), canon-compliant misogyny, mean!gator.

for @loveshotzz <3

the tillman barn. early morning.

“I told you—not to—do it.”

Every few words came with the snap of leather on flesh, cracking off the barn walls and exciting the horses stomping in their stables. Your fingers gripped the metal of the corral with all their might, digging into your chest against your will. Every strike of his heavy duty belt had you lurching toward the dirt and hay. Your socked feet were picking up pebbles, unprepared for an assault at such an early hour.

But you did get yourself into this mess.

“M-m so-sorry,” you hiccuped, listening to the corral clang on its hinges after a particularly rough hit.

Gator huffed, glaring down at your swelling, discolored flesh. “Yeah, now you are. Weren’t so sorry last night, were ya?”

And you weren’t. You weren’t sorry when you got dolled up in a tight little black dress and called up your friends. You weren’t sorry when you scampered down to the dive and climbed up on the bar to pour drinks. You weren’t sorry when you let that guy drag you to the dance floor. You weren’t sorry when you drunkenly scrawled some version of your phone number on a napkin and tucked it in his pants.

But you were sorry now. Gator always made sure you were sorry.

“Asked you a question, brat.” Another hard strike, slicing through the air and down on your bare ass. Your pajama pants sat around your ankles.

But the thing about Gator? He acted like you were his. His property, his possession, his girl. Yet when the time came to possess you, to have you—he fell short. Never claimed you as his girlfriend, never promised long term commitment, never made you feel like it was true. He always left you hanging.

You sniffled, willing away hot tears stinging in your eyes. Your nose burned and tingled, and you kept glancing toward the door of the barn in hopes Gator’s daddy wouldn’t come waltzing in to hold witness to your humiliation. He heard the sounds of Gator’s punishments once before and patted his son on the shoulder later at dinner. Gotta keep ‘em in line, son. You despised it. How him and his father thought they could do whatever they wanted because they ran the town.

But you loved him. It was your own damn fault.

“Shakin’ like a fuckin’ leaf, sweetheart,” Gator chuckled. He paused a moment to spit on the dirt: a sharp smack of saliva landing near your feet.

“H-hurts,” you whimpered, knees buckling to ease the sting.

Gator huffed, eyes rolling behind you. He gave you a mild lash on the thigh in reprimand. “Get back up.”

You stomped your socked foot, whining into a pout. “I’ll make it up to you, Gator, please!”

The buckle of his belt—a wide silver embellishment—tinkled as he let the leather droop. He cocked his head, inspecting your welts and swelling bruises as he thought. He fished into the pocket on his thigh and pulled out the strawberry-kiwi vape, taking a quick, hissing hit. He sighed as it furled out, tongue clicking.

“Fine. Since you’re just gonna keep complain’ anyway. C’mere.”

You shakily lifted from the corral bars, spinning around. Reaching down, your fingers curled into the elastic band of your pajama pants, but Gator whistled sharply.

“Hey. Uh-uh, leave ‘em.”

Huffing, you sulked and dropped your hands. “Why can’t I—“

“You talkin’ back?” Gator cocked his head again as he stuck the vape in his mouth.

You watched his cheeks hollow with a deep inhale. The mechanical vape click made your blood boil. You wanted to hike your pants up, march over there, and spit in his face. But his shoulders looked so broad in that stocky black sheriff’s vest. His hair was recently trimmed, lined up neatly around his ears and neck. The way those camo pants hugged his hips made you clench. And the belt still sat in his hand, silver gleaming menacingly in the soft yellow of morning light.

With hot cheeks, you huffed again and looked down. “No.”

Gator tucked his vape back in his pants and spit toward the left. His fingers drummed on the stiff lining of his vest, and he nodded down toward the ground at his feet.

“Well…it ain’t gonna suck itself.”

Your knees thumped to the hard ground instantly. You crawled his way slowly, glaring up at the smirk on his face when he had the audacity to shuffle back just to make you come. He chuckled, but stayed in place until you stopped at his feet. You sat back on your heels in the dirt and unzipped his pants, slipping him out into your palm.

“Ooh, shit. C’mon don’t play w’ it, baby, open your mouth.”

He hooked his hands into his vest when your mouth closed over him, chin tipped back toward the roof of the barn as he groaned. Warm pleasure enveloped him, but on the ground, you were freezing cold. Your ass and thighs ached pressed against your feet, fingers growing numb against his thighs.

But maybe if you did a good job, he’d be sweet again. Maybe he’d hold you tonight when he got home from work. Maybe he’d kiss you all over like he did sometimes, tickle you when you pouted too much. Maybe he’d be kind.

You worked your mouth over him languidly, and Gator groaned without shame. He dropped his belt to the dirt with a thud and wrapped his hand in your hair, guiding you around. You knew just what kind of suction, just how much tongue, how to look at him and where to put your hands—you knew him so insanely well. It was a goddamn shame.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, hips jutting toward your mouth. “Suck that dick.”

He grunted as he thrust in and out of your mouth, reveling in the wet squelches of your constricting throat. He dropped your hair and you heard the click of his vape again. The fruity smoke tickled your nose when he blew it down on you.

You lifted your eyes, blurring hot with tears. And as you found Gator’s pink-cheeked face, his own eyes hazy with pleasure and bliss—he opened his mouth and spat one out.

A wad of warm spit sizzled on your cheek, and you flinched at the smacking impact. Your mouth stilled around him, suction loosening.

“Oops,” Gator chuckled above you, sticking the vape near his mouth again. “Did I getcha, hon?”

Though a humiliated fury surged in your chest, you kept your lips closed around his cock and did your best. He wanted you to get irritated with him. He thought you were so cute when you got all riled up. And he liked being the one riling you.

Gator’s thumb pressed into your cheek, massaging his spit into your skin. Your eyes fluttered closed on their own will, soothed by his touch. He was rarely soft like that. Your involuntary moan had him bucking into your mouth again, hand moving to scrunch in your hair once more.

“Fuck, you’re a dirty bitch. No better than…an animal,” he groaned. “God, fuck ‘m gonna cum.”

You put him as far back in your throat as you could manage, nose nudging the furry patch on his pelvis. The vibrant, neon green of his vape entered your periphery when it pressed against your cheek under his hand, both of them coming to brace your head now. Gator liked you to swallow his seed. He thought it was dirty, disgusting—but that’s what he loved about it.

“B-better—swallow it,” he ordered through tight teeth. You bobbed your head in compliance, watching the veins in his neck strain around the collar of his t-shirt and behind his vest.

He pinched his eyes closed, jaw agape, nose scrunched up—and a strangled moan sliced through the barn as he spilled into your mouth. It slipped down your throat in a thick, sticky coating that had you cringing. He huffed and squirmed as he softened on your tongue, and you suckled at him absentmindedly as he slipped out.

Tucking himself back into his pants, he patted an open palm on your spit-sticky cheek. You swallowed again to ensure it was all down, and waited for him to give you the okay. God, your ass was still burning.

Gator sniffed, reaching down for his belt. He was just slipping it through the loops of his pants when a distant clang caused his head to snap up.

“Fuck, get up. My dad’s gonna be out soon.”

You wobbled as you got to your feet like a brand new fawn. You peeled your pajama pants back over your hips and secured the strings, doing your best to brush off the dirt and hope it didn’t stain. The soft fabric did little to muffle the acute sting of Gator’s strap.

“Come on,” he hissed, yanking your arm to pull you close.

He kept a close eye on the front of the barn as he hurried you out back, dragging you through the dirt the whole way. Roy Tillman would have his few hours on his horse at the ass crack of dawn like he always did, and Gator would wait until he was told what to do to make his daddy happy again.

You wouldn’t see him again until near morning.

“You’ll wait at home,” he instructed, heading toward his truck. “You hear me? No runnin’ around.”

You huffed as you slid in, crossing your arms. The truck jostled when he slammed the door after him, and the engine started up with a coughing growl. He whipped out of the dirt patch driveway, heading down the trail toward your house (where he yanked you from your bed not too long ago).

“Why can’t I just stay at your house?”

Gator scoffed, putting his vape in his mouth again. “Dad don’t like strangers around.”

Stranger somehow stung worse than anything else. He just spent an hour attacking your ass for going out without him—but you were still a stranger?

“Your dad’s an asshole—“

Gator slammed on the brakes, sending you hurtling forward against the seatbelt. Once you fell back, his hand latched to your jaw, fingers pressed tight into your cheeks. The look he fixed you with was sharp and mean.

“You watch your fuckin’ mouth.”

He tossed your head away harshly, and you glared down at your knees. He shook his head toward the windshield as he took his foot off the brake and sped down the street.

“Looks like you still have some learnin’ to do.” Gator hollowed his cheek around that stupid fruity piece of plastic again. The smoke slipped into the cold autumn air.

“Don’t worry. I’ll set ya straight, hon.”

#rolly! #gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator tillman fic #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman x reader smut

[eddiemunsons80sbaby]

I'm a Winner

Pairing: GatorxReader

Summary: You've heard rumors about Gator's abilities in the bedroom and you're curious. You can overlook his bumbling idiocy for an earth shattering orgasm.

18+ Only

Your eyes started tracking him from the moment he walked in. Gator Tillman, cocky son of Roy Tillman who was known for being a jerk, an idiot, and the resident fuckboy. He moved with the swagger of a man who thought he ran the world. Which is exactly what he thought. He never missed a chance to tell people how he was the law. 

He pulled that stupid vape from his pocket, hitting it hard as he laughed at something Jimmy was saying. Jimmy, another douchebag if there ever was one. You’d made the mistake of hooking up with him for him to be gone before you’d even woken up. No note. No call. But you’d seen him at the bar that night, Susan hanging all over him while he pretended that he had no idea who you were. 

After fucking four of Stark County’s finest you had sworn off cops completely. But lately, you’d been thinking of bending that rule. Yeah, Gator Tillman ran his mouth, telling anyone who would listen how amazing he was in the sack. It was probably just that, all talk. But according to a couple of the girls, he was worth taking a ride. 

He chugged a beer as the men around him all chanted, finishing it off with a neanderthal thumping of chest that led to a loud belch. You grimaced. Maybe this plan wasn’t the best one. Maybe those girls had been exaggerating. After all, Roy Tillman owned this county. No one wanted to get on his or his son’s bad side. They could just be blowing smoke up your ass so it didn’t get back to Gator that they were talking shit about him. 

After Lacy Boggs had bragged about Gator fucking her in the back of his cop car after another one of Jimmy’s parties, you’d been intrigued. She’d claimed that he had worked her over so good that she couldn’t walk straight for a week. After Kelsey Stouts had renowned you with her story of giving him head to get out of a speeding ticket, saying she’d never been so turned on having a dick in her mouth, you’d been highly interested. 

What man had a dick so special that a woman came just from sucking him off? You’d found yourself suddenly paying special attention to the deputy sheriff. Sipping your coffee in the diner while he picked up his order, noticing how well he filled out those camo pants he loved so much. He’d leaned back, resting his elbows on the counter, lazily waiting for his food, and you’d noticed it wasn’t just the back of the pants he’d filled out. 

That was the moment you’d decided you needed to see for yourself. That was the moment you’d realized that Gator Tillman, while a piece of absolute shit, was a hell of a view from all angles. He wasn’t long term material but you weren’t looking for long term. You were simply looking for a good time with a man who might be able to show it to. Unlike the other worthless men in this town. 

Gator turned, his eyes locking onto yours from where you sat, on a stool at the counter in the kitchen. One eyebrow lifted along with one side of his mouth, his hand running over that slicked back hair. You ran your tongue over your upper lip, knowing he wouldn’t be able to ignore the gesture. And sure enough, here he came, like a dog scenting a bitch in heat. 

“I could feel your eyes on me,” he smirked, placing one hand on the counter next to you, invading your space to the point where you could smell the Axe body spray he’d clearly used far too much of. “Whatchu want, darling?”

“Sorry, officer. Is it a crime to look?” you challenged, tilting your head, biting back the urge to reach out and tug on the wild mass of chest hair that was escaping the top of his shirt. 

“It’s only a crime if I say it’s a crime.” His head dropped, lips so close you could smell the fruity tang on his breath of watermelon from that damn vape he always had in his pocket. “See something you like?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve heard things…but I’m not sure if I should believe them or not.”

“You heard things? Well, I heard things too.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“I heard you got a thing for men in uniform,” he whispered. His hand fell on your knee and you allowed it, curious to see where this was going to go. After all, wasn’t this what you’d come here for tonight? “Let me guess. You been disappointed but you heard Gator can get your body exactly where it needs to be, didn’t you?”

His fingers slid under the edge of your skirt and you placed your hand over them, stopping him. Gator smirked, pulling hips lips between his teeth. 

“Pretty full of yourself, aren’t you?” you teased.

“You could be full of me too, mama. You know you want to. Just say the word. Jimmy’s got a spare room upstairs. This Gator wouldn’t mind exploring your wet swamp.”

A snort you couldn’t stop escaped and before you knew it, you were in hysterics. Gator looked confused and then offended, his hand disappearing from your leg as he straightened up, turning his head to each side, trying to regain his tough facade. His eyes darted around the room, daring anyone to say anything about you laughing at him. 

“I’m sorry…but do you really think that’s sexy? Referring to my vagina as a swamp?” you cackled. “Jesus, maybe those girls were overexaggerating. I thought you had game.”

“Oh, I got game honey,” he hissed angrily, his face suddenly in yours again, those hazel eyes dark as night. You swallowed hard, pulling back, laughter dying in your throat as you waited to see what he was going to do. Knowing the Tillman family, there was no threshold to what they were capable of when they were angry. “I got more game than Lebron James.”

“Okay…yeah. I’m sure you do. Must be a bad night for you or something.”

His hand came to your throat, his nose bumping yours, “You need a lesson in how to talk respectfully to authority. If you don’t have nothing to say, we might have to give that pretty little mouth something else to do.”

Heat flared between your thighs as he pushed against you, spreading you wide until you could feel pressed against you. Dampness was already spreading across your panties, your teeth biting down on your lower lip to keep you from whimpering in front of this entire party. Fuck. Why were you so turned on? You should be pushing this asshole off and telling him where to shove it. But the way he was looking at you, those eyes filled with promises of what he planned to do…you wanted it. 

Opening your eyes wide, you gave him the most innocent, doe eyed look you could manage. “Uh-oh, deputy. Have I been a bad girl? I guess you better punish me then so I can learn to be better.”

You enjoyed the way Gator’s eyes flickered in surprise, his cock reacting to your words, rigid and hard. You fought the urge to rub yourself against him, to relieve some of the ache that was already throbbing. You fucking needed this.

“Then get that sweet little ass upstairs.” His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “Last door on the right. Get on the bed and get on all fours. Lift that little skirt up for me and wait until I get there. And no touching yourself honey. I’ll know.”

Then he was gone. You gasped, blinking, finding him back over with his cop buddies, another beer in his hand. His eyes flickered to you and up the stairs. Not even knowing who the hell you were right now, you rose on shaky legs, making your way up the steps. 

No one stopped you. No one even seemed to be paying attention and if they were, they probably just assumed you were going to the bathroom. At the top of the landing, you made your way down the hallway, grabbing the doorknob to the last door on the right just like he’d said. 

Were you seriously going to do this? Were you really going to let Gator fucking Tillman order you around? For a second you considered just walking back down the stairs and out the door to your car. Let him be pissed when he got up here and found the room empty. Who in the hell did that guy think he was? God?

But that thought evaporated as fast as it came. You weren’t leaving. You were too invested now. You wanted to know if he could put his money where his mouth was. You wanted to know if that dick was as magical as the rumors said it was. And fuck, you wanted him to dominate the shit out of you. You wanted him to punish you. You wanted him to give you what you’d always craved but never had, what most of the boys in this town weren’t capable of. You wanted an earth shattering orgasm. You wanted to be walking funny for a week. You just hoped you weren’t getting your expectations up to have them shattered in disappointment because this guy could be all talk.

That fucking pick-up line. You snorted again thinking about it as you crawled onto the mattress. What woman would want her pussy to be compared to a swamp? Gross. Pressing your face into the mattress, you lifted your ass high, grasping the hem of your skirt and flipping it up. But dumb didn’t mean he couldn’t fuck, right? Only time would tell.

“Well, well, well…now if that ain’t the prettiest sight I ever did see. A woman showing some respect to authority, following an officer’s commands.”

Your pussy clenched, anticipation building at the sound of the door shutting, the lock clicking into place. The sound of cotton slipping over skin caressed your ears as he pulled his shirt off, a flash of green fabric in the corner of your vision. 

Each step toward the bed was a thud as his heavy combat boots hit the floor. You squirmed. Your desire building, your need pulsing through you like the rumbles of an earthquake. You’d never been so fucking turned on in your life and he hadn’t even touched you yet. God, he better live up to the hype.

“Mmm, now that’s a peach I’d like to sink my teeth in…”

He was right behind you now and you jumped when his hand came down upon your flesh with a loud smack. Gator treated the opposite cheek to the same treatment, eliciting a whimper from you. His hand wrapped around your thighs, yanking them further apart, spreading you wide. 

“My, my…” You gasped when his nose slid over your panties from the front to the back. “Damn darling, you smell just as sweet as you look. You taste just as good too?”

“Why don’t you put that mouth to good use and find out?” you teased, wiggling your ass back and forth for him, your need for him use his fingers, his tongue, his cock, fucking anything on you raging like an inferno. The heat was spreading over your skin until you were sure you would incinerate from it, nothing left but a pile of ashes on this bed. 

Another smack came at your words, this time to your pussy, the impact vibrating throughout your entire body. You cried out, rocking your hips backward, damn near begging this man to give you more. 

“Now, I thought we’d done and cleared this up, darling? It’s your mouth that needs something to do. Clearly you haven’t learned your less about talking back to your superiors.”

“I don’t work for you,” you snapped, unable to keep yourself from antagonizing him, wanting to push him over the edge, to push him to give you exactly what you wanted.

“Oh, well, I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’m here the law of this land,” he snarled, grabbing a fistful of your hair, lifting you up off the bed. “Tonight you do work for me and you can start by getting on your knees.”

Leaning forward, you batted your eyelashes, smirking with a tilt of your head, “Make me, officer.”

His lips pouted to the side, his hand coming to the back of his pants. You could tell he was more excited than aggravated at your challenge. Most girls probably didn’t have the balls to talk back to him, too scared of that last name he carried around. When he revealed it again, a pair of handcuffs dangled from his fingers. 

“Oh, we want to play like that? Alrighty then.” Roughly, he shoved you face first onto the bed. Pulling your arms behind you, you felt the cool metal snap around each wrist. “I can play like that.”

Not even waiting for your response, his fingers curled in your hair, tugging until you had no choice but to come off the bed, standing in front of him. Pulling again, he jerked your head so you were looking up at him. You gasped at the pain at your scalp and he used that opportunity to lick the inside of your mouth before pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking until it released with an audible pop. 

“Now, I said on your knees.”

His hand dropped to the top of your head, pressing you down until you had no other option if you didn’t want to rupture a vertebrae. Gator stood, considering you, his head tilting one way and then the other. With a movement so fast you barely knew it had happened, his hands pulled at your shirt, ripping the buttons. Swiping at the fabric, nothing was left to conceal you from him besides scraps of black lace.

“That’s better. Wanna admire those tits while I watch that mouth apologize for talking back.” His zipper made a soft hiss before his pants dropped around his ankles. Gator slid one hand into his boxer briefs, pulling out his already hard cock, showing you that what you thought you saw was no exaggeration. This man was hung. “Now open up for me, mama.”

Eager to find out if this cock was everything you’d been told, you opened wide. 

“Stick that tongue out for me. Oh…that’s a girl…”

He slapped the tip of his erection against your tongue a few times. You kept your mouth open as he slipped it inside, the tip running along each cheek. When his fist curled in your hair again, you worked to relax your throat, anticipating what was coming. 

And Gator did not disappoint. He fucked your face, sending his cock straight back to kiss your tonsils. You gagged, your nose nuzzled against the coarse hair at the base of him. But he didn’t relent, doing it again, and a third time, his sack hitting your chin with each hard thrust into your mouth. His groans and grunts created a soundtrack of meal pleasure while his cock left no inch of your throat untouched until you felt like he would reach your lungs. 

“Fuck, darling. That pretty little mouth is good for something other than being a smartass.” His hand eased in your hair, his other hand slipping along his length, pressing it against his stomach. “Gotta show the boys the same kind of love, now.”

You pressed your nose against the seam of his hip, dragging your tongue underneath. He hissed and you moaned, his sounds only furthering your desire. Your panties were absolutely soaked as you took first one and then the other of his testicles into your mouth, sucking and releasing with a loud pop. 

“You are a dirty little slut, aren’t ya honey? You like sucking dick, don’t you?”

A moan was the only answer you gave him, your tongue now dragging over the side of his cock. Fuck, you wanted your hands free so you could touch him. Taking his length in your mouth again, you moved over him, his hips rocking forward to meet you. 

“Look at me, honey. Yeah…fuck, you look so damn pretty with my cock in your mouth. Wrap your lips around it. Yeah, just like that…”

Tears streamed down your face as you took him as deeply as you could. You scraped your teeth gently over the sensitive skin and he jumped, growling before slamming to the back of your throat again in punishment. Just as his grunts were coming faster and you were sure he was close, he grabbed your hair, yanking you off him. 

“Now to see if you taste as sweet as you smell.”

Heaving you over his shoulder, he tossed you to the bed, grabbing onto your hands and hooking the chain of the handcuffs over the bedpost, effectively keeping you restrained. Gator kicked off his pants and his boots before climbing on the bed. He roughly yanked off your panties and then pressed your knees, leaving you spread before him. 

Lying on his stomach, he leaned in, inhaling deeply again, “Fuck, just like peaches. I’m telling ya. Now, you wanna see why all the girls talk about Gator, honey, because I’m gonna show ya.”

He didn’t just lick. He didn’t just suck. This man fucking feasted on you like you were a turkey dinner at Thanksgiving. You cried out, pulling at the handcuffs, your hips bucking up off the bed. Gator’s large hands landed on each of your thighs, pressing you down as he devoured. 

“Fuck, Gator. Jesus…oh my god…that’s so good…so fucking good…” you whimpered, your hands opening and closing in desperate to grab onto his head and grind yourself against him. But you couldn’t. This man had all the control. 

“Mmm…I told you, Gator knows his way around moist places, honey.”

Fuck. You hated that goddamn word. This man seriously had to come up with better descriptions for a woman’s pussy but not even that was enough to break you from the fucking ecstasy you were lost in as his tongue slid down, entering you. That glorious fucking nose, a nose that looked like it belonged on a Roman God continued to nuzzle deliciously over your clit as his tongue fucked you. 

Your body was fucking humming. Gator was playing you like a violin and you were loving every goddamn note. When two thick fingers slid into you, pumping hard while his lips wrapped around your clit, you screamed his name, your thighs locking around his head. Your hips rocked up into him, your body desperately seeking sweet release. 

“I’m gonna…oh shit…oh god…Gator…”

“That’s right. Come for me, mama. Come all over Gator’s face.”

The tension within you coiled so tightly, you thought you would snap and then snap you did. With a scream so loud you were sure the entire party had heard, your orgasm crashed over you, your back bowing off the bed. 

“Jesus Christ…” you whimpered, collapsing.

“Mmm…” His lips pressed against your clit and you squeaked, jerking. “So fucking tasty.”

His chin glistened with your juices as he brought his two fingers to his mouth, slipping them inside, sucking the remains of your pleasure off. Your eyes fluttered closed, your body spent, completely wrecked after the most earth shattering orgasm of your goddamn life. The sound of foil tearing caught your attention and you opened your eyes to see Gator slipping a condom over his painfully hard cock.

“I ain’t done with you yet, mama.” Kneeling between your legs, he lifted one up, pressing it against his chest. “Gonna get nice and deep. I’m gonna hit places ain’t no other man ever hit.”

In one swift thrust, he entered you, stretching you, his cock filling you completely. Your eyes rolled back in your head, teeth clenched against the delicious burn. Gator did not wait for you to adjust to his size. He pounded into you, your skin slapping together harshly. 

Pressing forward, he bent your leg toward you with the weight of his chest. The next thrust sent him in so deeply that you swore you could feel him in your stomach. You cursed, gasping his name. 

“There it is…” he growled, rolling into you again and again, each time hitting a space that had you seeing fucking stars, planets, entire galaxies that you’d never explored but desperately wanted to.

“Jesus Gator…I’m gonna come again…I…so good…fuck…”

You wanted to grab his arms. You wanted to sink your fingers into that chest hair that was teasing you, tickling your nose. You wanted to rake your fingernails down his back. But you could do none of those things, the use of your hands taken from you.

A scream ripped from your throat as your second orgasm threatened to tear you apart. Gator didn’t cease his pace as your walls pulsed around him, pulling him deep. 

“That’s it…fuck yeah…I’m a winner…” he grunted, hips slamming into you again. “I’m a winner, honey.” Sweat trickled down his face. “I’m a…” His mouth opened wide, his body shaking as he stilled above you, riding out his own release. “Winner,” he gasped. “I’m a fucking winner.”

Your eyes went wide watching him and you bit down on your lip, thinking it would be a very bad idea to laugh at him right now. Maybe he was an idiot but if he could give you orgasms like that, you’d be willing to overlook a few flaws. 

“Those girls were right, weren’t they?” he demanded breathlessly. “Say it. Tell me they were right.”

“They were…they were right,” you breathed, struggling to catch your own breath. “You’re a winner, Gator.”

“Fucking right I am.”

#gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman fic #gator tillman smut #gator x reader #gator tillman #gator tillman x reader #smut #rough smut #obey me

[dckweed]

NEXT THING YOU KNOW, gator tillman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

taglist:

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

#gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman fic #gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator tillman x reader #joe keery #fargo season 5

[courtingchaos]

Not a Loser

Gator Tillman x Fem Reader

A/N: Just chumming the waters. It’s been rotting in my notes for a bit.

18+ NSFW No Minors

You’ve been on his ass all day. It started bright and early with your unannounced arrival to the house, dressed for a day out that he’d half promised you. Roy had the pleasure of letting you in and that was the first tick, the compliment.

“Well would you look at that, a dress today.” He’d laughed and you’d laughed and Gator had come down the stairs so fast he almost tripped.

“What are you doing here?”

“You promised me a date, Tillman.”

He doesn’t miss the up and down his father gives you when you walk into the foyer, especially doesn’t miss the raised eyebrows Roy shoots at him.

‘Get in there’ He can practically hear him saying it.

“Yeah. Later.” He wanted to avoid this. Any interactions with his family since you weren’t the keeping your mouth shut type.

“Well get dressed son, she’s waiting.” Roy admonishes him and shakes his head at you and Karen comes out to invite you into the kitchen for coffee and Gator needs to get you both out of the house.

You pitch a fit with him when he’s finally dressed and he wants to drive even though you made to 40 minute trip over on your own just fine. He corrals you into his truck and then you can’t agree on music and he’s sucking on his vape to try and keep his mind clear. It’s moments like this, when you find something to pick at and prod, that he wonders why he bothers with you at all.

But then when he gets to the mall an hour away and you hop out of his truck he’s reminded of one reason. He watches you adjust the skirt of your dress and he catches the black flash of your underwear.

“What are you grinning at?” You snap at him while reaching back in for your purse and he drops his smile quick, a heavy eye roll taking its place. You drag him around to stores he hates, stores that smell too much and have too many people. Stores with shit he doesn’t care about. When he tries to veer off into a GameStop you scoff and ask if he even has enough friends to play online with.

“Why do you have to be such a bitch?” He asks you real close while you both wait in line for a cinnamon roll. You chew on the straw of your iced latte and eye him from the side.

“I’m just pickin’ at you Gator, don’t be so sensitive.”

“I’m not fuckin’ sensitive.” He’s defensive, bordering on getting loud, when you put a hand on his arm.

“Hey,” Your fingers dig into the plush of his pullover, “Calm down, baby.” Placating tone layered under the nickname and suddenly he doesn’t feel so angry. The girl at the counter calls your name and you grab the overly big box, already opening it to pull at the center piece. “Want a bite?” You hold up the gooey bit for him and he takes it right out of your fingers with his teeth.

Back in town and when he asks where you want to eat and you’re back at square one, shrugging shoulders and “I don’t know, you pick.”

Everything he suggests is stupid apparently and his boiling point is dangerously close to being hit. He takes you to the diner and you pick at your sandwich and steal his toast but when he tries to steal a fry off your plate you click your tongue at him.

“What, you can steal my food? I can’t have one god damn fry?”

“I didn’t even want to come here.”

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” He can get loud in here and no one will bat an eye but still he keeps his voice hushed. Dips his head to catch your eye while you’re pouting into your plate. “All you’ve done today is be a pain in my ass.”

“Well you ignored my texts last night.”

“I was busy. You know my dad’s got me doing shit, important shit.” He makes that point with a harsh finger jabbed into the table top.

“It’s always fucking Roy isn’t it?” You push your plate across the table and the cutlery clatters. “Why don’t you just fuck him then, huh?”

His fist hits the table and everything clashes together. He sees how you jump and a small part of him feels satisfaction but the rest of him wants to bury his face in his hands. A big sigh, deep and full of spite, escapes between his fingers gated over his lips. “You coulda just picked a place.” He mutters and shakes his head.

“And you could just pretend to give a shit.” A fork gets thrown at his head and before he can reach out for your wrist to pin you down you’re out of the booth and out the front door.

“Hey!” He yells at the window while you stalk down the stairs outside. “Where are you going?!” He throws a $20 on the table and runs out after you while you seemingly start walking towards the farm 30 miles away.

“I’m going home!”

“You don’t live that way!”

“I need my car, Gator!” You scream at him and stomp your foot. You’ve smart mouthed him and called him names but you’ve never screamed at him like that.

“Get in the fuckin’ truck.” He wrenches the passenger door open. “Now.”

“Or fuckin’ what?” You stare at him unmoving. He knows the wind has to be cold on your legs but you barely react when a big gust comes through except to hold your dress down.

Yeah or what? He tries to think of something smart to say but there’s nothing there past his anger at you acting out all morning.

“Fine. Walk. I don’t give a shit.” He starts the truck and waits for a second to see if you’ll get in. He wants to gun it out of the parking lot and spray gravel and teach you a lesson. He wants to laugh about it and go home and tell his dad about finally putting you in your place.

But then you take a tentative step towards the door and he doesn’t turn his head but he does watch you from the corner of his eye. Wordlessly you hop in and slam the door behind you and it just lights the fire for another match. The whole drive home it’s barbs traded over the center console and every time you hit his dash to make a point he’s slapping your hand off of it, yelling about how expensive it was.

“Your dad bought you the damn thing, you care about it more than me!”

“You’re god damn right I do! It doesn’t yell at me!”

“I’m not yelling, I’m making my point!”

The truck jerks to a stop in front of his house and you jump out before the engine is off so you can beeline for your car. Gator takes a long pull off of his dying vape, thick cloud obscuring his vision until he finally gets out grumbling. From the front porch he hears a low whistle that has his head snapping up to find his father standing there with a shit eating grin.

“Trouble in paradise?” Roy tilts his head at you digging through your purse angrily.

“It’s fine.” Gator grits out while trying to edge his way past, only to be stopped by Roy with a big hand to his chest.

“Now you know how I feel about this one.”

“Well she won’t be around for long, so you don’t have to worry.” He feels like a child again, petulant and glaring at his father that still stands taller than him.

“You could fix that easily if you’d get your head out of your ass.” Gator doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him, grass muffling the hurried steps while you come up to ask for your keys he still has in his pocket.

“Remember that Claire girl?”

“‘Course I do, you don’t need to-“

“She left you because you couldn’t be straight with her.”

“No, we broke up-“

“She left you because you couldn’t keep her.” His palm swallows Gator’s shoulder when it claps down hard. He wants to take a hit off his vape for something to with his hands but he knows he’d just get scoffed at for something else. “Just, stop being a loser.” It’s a pitying smile he gives Gator before his gaze drifts behind him and he sighs. “You got in you somewhere.” Roy keeps his eyes on you as he walks down off the porch and Gator follows his look over his shoulder, tensing when he sees you standing there awkwardly.

“You uh, you have my keys.”

“What.” He feels lightheaded. He’s avoided any real interaction between you and his dad mostly on account that you were supposed to be just for fun, but this doesn’t feel fun anymore. Not the ringing in his ear making him wince or the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“My car keys.”

“Oh.” He’s on autopilot while tapping all his pockets. They jingle in his pullover and he tries to shove his cast in there and it catches and there’s the breaking point.

“Gator.” You try to get up the stairs to help him before he has a meltdown but it’s too late. His face is red and he’s tearing at his fleece and swearing up a storm. He thinks he might have stomped his foot and the embarrassment is swallowing him whole. “Gator come on.”

You’re only trying to steer him inside the house but he pushes you back when you grab him.

“I don’t need your fucking help!” He cries at you.

“Then give me the keys, asshole!” You yell back.

He knows his dad hears all this with the way your voices carry across the open expanse between the barn and the house. He can already hear him later while he sits in front of the fireplace. Sitting with his new wife and his new kids, the better ones, the ones that haven’t fucked up yet. He’ll drink his whiskey and shake his head at his fuck up and he’ll remind Gator for the next few weeks about this fight.

“Jesus Christ Gator, get it together.” You’re not gentle when you shove him into the door and open it. He stumbles in over the threshold and your hands hold him up and steer him to the stairs. He’s not sure if anyone is home and he doesn’t want them to see you taking him to his room but you move fast with him in front of you. Up to the landing and he trips again. You push him into his room and he makes for his bed like a kid being sent in for time out.

“Do you have a bottle of water or something?” You glance around, noticing the half empty fifth on his nightstand and his stomach plummets further.

“No.”

“God can you…” You take a steadying breath and shift toward him. “Let me get my keys.” You only pause when he doesn’t immediately move to let you rifle through his pocket. This close he can smell your perfume and he’d like to lean his head in but that’d be a stupid fucking move too. A sigh grazes his neck when you get your keyring out and stand up.

“Listen.” You cross your arms and give his room a good once over before another sigh works out of you, big and heaving. “Contrary to all of this, I don’t think your dad should be calling you that. It fucks with a person.”

“What, a loser?”

“Yeah.” You give him a sympathetic look and he hates it. He doesn’t know what to say though, just wants to be alone at this point. “Just, you aren’t a loser.” A shrug before you seem to second guess your departure and sit lightly on the edge of his bed. “An asshole for sure. And a dipshit.”

He laughs hollowly but your hand on his knee gives a reassuring squeeze. “I know I started this morning off on the wrong foot. I did that on purpose but I didn’t think uh, Roy was gonna…” You trail off. Behind you on the headboard the stupid handcuffs he keeps there jingle when he stands abruptly. Two steps to his door and he shuts it quietly and turns the lock and you sigh, again.

“Gator I don’t really feel like fucking around today.”

“Humor me.” He doesn’t meet your eyes when he turns back and kneels in front of you. He picks up one foot to wedge off your heeled boot and then the other, your socks rolled off your toes gently and placed inside your shoes.

“Gator.”

He ignores you and sits up, grabbing your hands and pulling at the thin rings to set them on his nightstand. Your bracelet and watch follow, both snaked around the tiny pile of rings.

“What are you doing.”

He just shakes his head, brows furrowed while he tries to unbutton your cardigan. You let him work but you watch his movements, gentle for the first time ever you think. He pushes the sweater down your arms and pulls it around you, folding it before laying it on the corner of his bed.

“You’re freaking me out.” You laugh quietly. He looks like he’s thinking while those long fingers start in on the buttons down the front of your dress. “Hey.” You grab his chin to pull his face up. “What are you doing?” You ask again, this time looking him dead on.

“You really don’t think I’m a loser?”

“Oh.” You ignore the glaring warning sign tacked to the wall beside your head for a moment. All the little centerfolds and the random bullets around his room. You instead focus on the purple light in the corner with his tarantula he’s had since high school. The bits of hand drawn personality, however strange they are, hanging around the corners of his room. The handful of empty fifths you noticed in the bottom of his closet. “No.” There’s a ‘but’ at the end of that ‘no’ however now isn’t the time.

There’s no reason for him to unbutton your dress when he can just push it up but he takes the tedious route, always the hard way for some reason. He hooks long fingers into the waistband of your underwear and pulls until you lift your hips. Again he does his methodical folding and you file that away for later to ask him about when he isn’t lost in some kind of stupor.

It only feels nerve wracking to have him between your knees because he’s quiet. Big palms grip under your thighs and pull you toward the edge of the bed before he hitches your legs over his shoulders.

“Say it again?” Hopeful breaths huff across heated skin, nerve endings on fire suddenly with his lips so close.

You smirk at him looking eager and pitiful between your thighs, his finger already digging into soft skin, hair mussed and falling out of its slicked back order. “You’re not a loser.”

#Gator Tillman Fic #Gator Tillman Smut #Gator Tillman x Reader #My Work #My Fic

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Badge Bunny

Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader

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

Word count: 3.3K

18+ MDNI! Go on, get!

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

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

Badge Bunny Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Up, up, up slowly. 

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

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

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

“Get on your knees.” he ordered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmmmmm… Goddamn.” 

You pulled off of him with a loud pop. 

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

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

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

“Open.” 

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

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

“Fucking whore. Swallow.” He practically growled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus, this pussy always this needy?” 

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

“Jesus, you always taste so fucking sweet.”

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

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

“Yeah, that's it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman fic #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman Fargo #fargo fx #fargo season 5 #fargo s5 #joe keery #joe keery smut #gator tillman x you

[muldermuse]

two sinners (Gator Tillman X F!Reader)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

Gator Tillman is the worst guy you know.

And he makes you feel fucking powerful.

***

It takes 4 weeks in total for him to break. 

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

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

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

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

He calls you three times on Wednesday. 

You ignore every text and every ring. 

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

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

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

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

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

***

He reaches new levels of desperation on Friday.

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

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

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

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

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

“He says it will only take a few minutes”

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

He’s so mad.

And, of course, you fucking love it.

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

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

Your fingers move to unbutton his shirt.

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

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

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

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

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

But he doesn’t leave.

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

***

He grabs your hips and pulls them towards him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is so worth the wait.

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

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

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

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

He moves to interlock his pinky finger with yours. 

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

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

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

*** 

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

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

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

#fargo #fargo fx #fargo season 5 #fargo s5 #fargoedit #gator tillman smut #gator tillman #gator Tillman x reader #joe keery #joe keery smut #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman fic #joe keery x reader #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x f!reader #two sinners works

[say-al0e]

Something In Your Mouth

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: You've had a bad week and Gator's tired of the attitude. He thinks you'll feel better with something in your mouth. Warnings: A few degrading names, Gator's kind of a dick (not really but, sorta), rough oral (m receiving), and if there's anything else, let me know and I'll tag it. Pairing: Gator Tillman x fem!Reader Word Count: 3k (why am I like this? the world may never know)

The thud of Gator’s boots against hardwood floor echoed through the house as he navigated the familiar floor plan. Though your shoulders relaxed at his appearance, body no longer wound as tight as it’d felt all day now that he was home, you kept your place at the sink.

From the corner of your eye, with hands buried in lukewarm water, you watched as he shucked his vest and jacket - leaving both hanging over the back of a kitchen chair and serving as a reminder to ask him about tacking up coat hooks in the hallway when he had another day off - before his belt and thigh holster followed. You knew they’d all be dutifully moved into their rightful places later, but you still rolled your eyes at his habit of leaving pieces of his uniform scattered about the house.

As you continued clearing up the dishes, gaze pointedly on your work rather than your fiancé, you ruminated on the week you’d had. Nothing of note had gone wrong, nothing had been particularly taxing, but everything felt overwhelming. Things were average, normal, fine. But you’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed days ago and had been in a sour mood all week and it seemed that your mood had finally rubbed off on Gator as he huffed with each step he took.

Another roll of your eyes as he opened the fridge and rummaged through the produce and containers of leftovers to, no doubt, find the beer that had been shoved to the back but you said nothing. Even as you finished the last of the dishes and washed your hands, deliberately taking your time, you remained quiet and waited for him to break the stalemate.

Gator took a few more steps, shuffled around a bit more, before you heard him settle onto the couch. The crack of the can opening, a sip of beer, before he huffed an annoyed breath. “C’mere,” he demanded, voice even in the quiet of your home, “and get on your knees.”

There were a thousand words you’d been expecting to hear, a thousand snarky remarks you’d been waiting to sneer at, but the calm demand wasn’t one. With narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, you turned to face him. There was a moment of silence, filled only with the quiet drip of water running off drying dishes, before you folded your arms over your chest and lifted your chin in an act of defiance. “What?”

The order was clear, one you’d heard a hundred times before in similar situations, but the mood you’d been in for nearly a week made you want to roll your eyes at something that would normally set your skin ablaze. Gator’s own eyes narrowed at your question, brown darkening with an annoyance only magnified by the attitude you’d had all week, as he took another sip.

“On your fucking knees,” he repeated, enunciating each word clearly as his gaze traveled down your body and came to a stop at your chest. The thin, threadbare t-shirt you wore now felt impossibly revealing - left you feeling more naked than if you were standing bare before him - but you resisted the urge to lift your hands and cover yourself as he inhaled sharply through his nose. “Now.”

It was slow, deliberate, but uttered so forcefully that he left you little room for argument. Still, his gaze left you pinned to the floor. There was something impossibly heavy in the look he gave you, something that seared you to the bone and rendered you thoughtless - unable to remember exactly what you’d felt before feeling the weight of his full attention on you.

Though you were tempted to huff, to argue and demand that he make you, you were in no mood to fight with him. The sweep of his eyes over your frame had your skin prickling, feverish despite the snow falling outside, and dissolved any remaining fight. That anger, that warmth, was replaced with a desire so heady it nearly stole your breath as you crossed the room in a few short steps and dropped to your knees in front of him.

As you settled before him and glanced up at him from beneath your lashes, Gator took another sip from his beer. Those dark eyes never left your kneeling form, daring you to move - to disobey - as he wiped at his mouth with his hand.

Another moment of his intense regard, brows pinched and mouth set in a thin line. “You’ve had an attitude all fucking week,” he began, voice low as he tipped his head to get a better look at you. “I’ve tried to be patient and wait it out, but I’m tired of walking on eggshells in my own goddamn house. So, here’s what we’re gonna do.”

Gator sat back then, pressed himself comfortably into the plush of the couch, and spread his legs wide. As he reached for his beer, body stretching and biceps flexing, you weren’t quite sure where to look. There was the expanse of skin exposed by the white undershirt - the smooth column of his throat, the sliver of his chest, the strong curve of his biceps - or the camouflage fabric covering his thighs; it was all too much, more overwhelming than the unnamed emotions you’d been grappling with all week, so you settled for his face and watched as he scowled.

“I’m gonna drink my beer, and you’re gonna put that smartass mouth to good use.” Another sip of his beer then, and your eyes fell to his throat, watching as his Adam’s apple bobbed. “And when you’re done swallowing my come,” he continued, eyes flashing with blaze of fire when you inhaled sharply, “you’re gonna thank me for letting you. Then, if I’m feeling generous, I might fuck you later.”

An argument lingered on the tip of your tongue - a whine of, “That’s not fair,” or a withering, “Suck it yourself, asshole,” - but Gator was quick to quiet you before you could so much as open your mouth.

Cold fingers, damp with condensation from the can, fell to your jaw as he leaned forward to meet your narrowed gaze. “It’s in your best interest not to talk back,” he advised, warm breath fanning over your face as he pressed his fingers into your skin. “If I have to punish you tonight, I’m not going to be very nice.”

The threat was hollow - Gator would never hurt you, would never cause you any discomfort that you didn’t ask for - but it still sent a shiver down your spine. Your breathing had grown shallow, ragged in your own ears as heat bloomed in the pit of your stomach, and he knew that you were in the palm of his hand.

This was something that you both needed. Gator needed to be given control, some semblance of power in an otherwise powerless existence; you needed to step outside of yourself, to be given permission to stop thinking, if only for a second, and give in to your deepest desires. It was something you both loved, a dynamic that worked well, because you were equal in every way. You split the bills and the housework - though you did most of the cooking because despite Gator’s very earnest, very best efforts to learn, he still had miles to go - and, on days he felt overwhelmed with work or feelings he couldn’t quite name, Gator was happy to let you put him in his place.

But this was a game that you both loved. And while you weren’t thrilled about the discomfort you’d felt all week, you were thrilled with Gator’s solution.

Arousal, sticky and warm, flooded your veins as he released your jaw and tossed his arm over the back of the couch. He pointedly glanced at you, then his camouflage covered bulge, before he raised an eyebrow. “My cock’s not gonna suck itself, sweetheart.”

Immediately, you missed the weight of his hand on your skin but bit your tongue as you reached out to unbutton and unzip his work pants. There was little whining about his lack of touch or how desperate you were to feel him would do, not when you’d been prickly all week - not when you’d huffed at his efforts to comfort you with physical touch for days on end - so you did as you were told.

Gator watched intently, dark eyes tracking your every movement, as you tugged at the stiff material. When you were met with the absence of the black band of his briefs, you cast him an unimpressed glance. In response, he simply lifted his hips just enough for you to free him from the confines of his pants.

Seeing him bare always left you with warmth pooling in the pit of your stomach. Slick gathered between your thighs, a slow ache that reminded you of just how long it had been since you’d felt his touch - a hell of your own making, you chided yourself - and your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you shuffled closer.

The sight of him never grew less impressive, never less achingly beautiful, and you worried a little about the power he held over you as your hands began to move. With one hand pressed to his thigh, you wrapped the other around the base of his cock - hard, warm, tip ruddy and glistening with a bead of precum - and leaned in to trace the vein running along the underside with your tongue.

A hiss escaped him as his fingers curled into the aluminum of the beer can producing a tinny crunch, before his free hand fell to your head. Thick fingers tangled in your hair, gripped firmly as he shifted his hips, and you knew that was the only warning you would get.

While he usually enjoyed the attention, got off on being the center of your universe - reveled in the time you spent doting on him, making him feel larger than life with every swipe of your fingers or tongue - this was not the moment to take your time. He wanted release, wanted to claim you in a way that had you both burning where you sat, and you gave it to him.

Gator’s fingers tightened in your hair as you took the tip between your lips, pausing only to swipe your tongue and lap at the precum weeping from it. A deep exhale drew your attention, had you lifting your eyes from the sliver of exposed skin to his face - dark eyes trained on your face, watching intently even as he sank into the cushions - and you did nothing to bite back the soft whimper the sight of him drew.

Usually gelled hair had begun falling, a combination of moisture from the snow and his own frustration, and your stomach clenched at the few strands that fell across his forehead. You wanted nothing more than to reach out, to brush your fingers over his heated skin, but you knew he wouldn’t respond kindly in that moment. So, you settled for the next best thing and allowed your fingers to grip the plush of his thigh as you lowered your head.

The taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue drew a soft groan from you - made it difficult for you to remember any of the unwieldy emotions you’d been grappling with all week, difficult to remember anything other than Gator - as you built a slow, steady rhythm.

Even with the annoyance he’d felt, the ease with which he’d demanded you make up for your attitude on your knees, he still allowed you a few moments to acclimate to his size before the grip on your hair tightened. Heavy fingers pressed into your scalp and began to guide your movements.

“That’s it,” he hummed, using his grip on your hair to roughly fuck into your mouth. A few shallow thrusts, not quite pressing you down entirely, before he lifted his hips and you found your nose buried in the dark hair around the base of his cock. The tip punched at the back of your throat, hitting deep enough to draw a whine from deep in your chest, and Gator tutted at the sound. “This is what you needed, isn’t it? Needed to be used like a good little cockslut, put in your fucking place.”

When your lashes fluttered, breath coming in short puffs from your nose as your tongue swirled around the warm velvet of his cock, Gator laughed. It was a harsh sound, though not unkind, that quickly morphed into a moan. “Jesus, look at that.” With a clatter, Gator set the can on the coffee table and brought his hand to your cheek. He thumbed at the errant tears leaking from your eyes and exhaled heavily. “Look pretty on your knees, my good little wife.”

The wedding was still weeks away but Gator had taken to calling you his wife the moment he slid the ring onto your finger. And as readily as he rolled with the equality in your relationship, the give and the take, there was something about the game - the moments of pretend, the moments where Gator could play the part of big, strong man while you settled on your knees before him - that you both reveled in.

Sticky arousal pooled between your thighs and a quick glance at his face told you that Gator knew just how desperate you were beginning to feel. He could see the shift of your thighs, the heave of your chest; could feel the desperate press of your fingers digging into his thighs, the eager bob of your head as you took everything he gave you. 

Despite the ache in your jaw, the stinging in your knees, you swallowed the salty slick dripping from the tip of his cock as your eyes lifted to meet his once more.

“Much better use of that pretty mouth,” he continued, rarely able to remain quiet for long when you were settled between his thighs. “Hard to be a bitch when your mouth’s full.”

When you cut your eyes at him in warning - despite the throbbing in your untouched clit, the ache you felt as you waited eagerly for your turn to receive his undivided attention, he was toeing the line of too much - he reached for your free hand and squeezed it in apology. He was close, teetering on the edge of release after a week of lost attention, and you forgave him with a swallow around his cock.

The groan you received in return shot straight to your core, had you shifting your thighs and clenching around nothing. His grip grew harsher, fingers trapped tight in your locks as he set a brutal pace, and you sank into him fully as he chased his high.

A few more moments of the tip of his cock punching the back of your throat, his fingers pressed to your scalp, the depth of his voice as he loudly proclaimed his pleasure. Gator was all that existed, all encompassing and dissolving the tension of a sour week, and you found yourself moaning with him when he came with a groan.

Just as he’d ordered, you swallowed the bitter warmth of his spend. And when you were done, when he released his grip on your hair and allowed you to pull away, you opened your mouth and displayed your compliance. Gator hummed, pleased, and waited with an expectantly raised brow.

“Thank you for letting me swallow your come, sir.” It was a rasp, voice spent and throat ticklish, but it was exactly what he’d wanted. You could see the flash in his eyes - the confirmation that he would rather walk across glass barefoot than deny himself the pleasure of being buried between your thighs - as you fluttered your lashes at him.

With a hum, he reached out for you. He hauled you up easily, tugged you onto the couch to join him, and cupped your cheek in his hand. Warm fingers pressed into your skin and you were unsurprised by the eager press of his mouth to yours.

Gator tasted of mint and cheep beer - the Zyns an upgrade from the early days when you were met with the harsh bite of his dip and the acidic sweetness of Mt. Dew - but you melted into him just the same. His thumb brushed at the few errant tears tracking down your cheeks, wiped them away in the softest motion, and your heart clenched as you gently squeezed his wrist.

“‘M sorry for being so bitch all week,” you mumbled, eyes cast down to avoid his soft gaze as you stroked at the warm skin of his wrist. “Dunno what was wrong. Just off, I guess. Shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

A soft hum of acknowledgement escaped him, an understanding as he also found himself struggling to make sense of powerful emotions on occasion, as he leaned in for another eager kiss - an acceptance, forgiving. “You feeling any better?”

The question was muffled by your lips, warm breath fanning over your skin and needling at the already rubbed raw nerves, but you appreciated it just the same. “Mm.” You were - not wholly yourself yet but better, on the mend - but there was always a way to feel better. “You could always fuck the attitude out of me, just to be sure,” you offered, lips curving at the corners as you finally met his eyes.

“Brat.”

There was no bite, no malice in the word. It was soft, fond, and you could see the curve of his mouth as he fought a bright smile. The eyes that had been so dark all night had grown warm, honey brown and so sweet as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your mouth. The stubble that lined his jaw prickled your skin but it grounded you, kept you wholly in the moment, and you were grateful for it as his words cut through the haze.

“Want you naked on the bed when I get in there.” It was whispered against your lips, quiet but ringing in your ears as you felt your heart thunder in your chest. “We’ll get rid of whatever attitude’s left.”

______________________________________________________________

Author's Note: Fuck if I know, man. I just write what the inspiration tells me to write. I guess let me know if you want to be tagged if I write more for the garbage man.

#gator x reader #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman smut #gator smut #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman fic #gator tillman imagine #v's fics

[spookysteddie]

Tillmans Girl

18+ Minors DNI

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

wc: 3.9k

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

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

… 

He was here again. 

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

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

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

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

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

Tonight though, was different. 

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

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

But not you. 

Never you. 

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

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

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

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

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

You cover it well, “only for you.” 

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

He nods, “how much?”

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

But he can. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Gator would never hurt you. 

“Surprised you asked for this, pretty boy.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why am I the exception?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I ain’t afraid of anything, angel.” 

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

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

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

You shrug, “agree to disagree.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle a little, “yeah? Anything?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He laughs, “agree to disagree.” 

He slides his hands to your hips, squeezing gently. 

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

“No more than you ask me to.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? You sound a little obsessed.” 

He nods, “j-just a little.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Whatever. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can someone get addicted to another's cock? 

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

“Such a gen-gentleman, Gator.” 

“Only for you, angel. Only for you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

#gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman fic #gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman imagine #joe keery fargo #fargo fanfic #fargo spoilers #fargoedit

[wroteclassicaly]

Pick You Up At 7

(Gator Tillman x Plus size!Female Reader)

Summary: When your date goes bad, Gator reacts in unexpected ways.

Warnings: Language, implied smut/smut, low self-esteem, body dysmorphia, food insecurity, fat phobia, fat shaming, Gator and reader roast one another, have nicknames, mentions periods, Gator being a tad misogynistic, anxiety, and depression.

Word count: 2,913

Pairings: Gator Tillman x Plus size!Female Reader

A/N: This one isn’t for the faint of heart, folks! It’s straight up self-indulgent, it’s intense. So… yeah. Read the warnings and read at your own risk! Wanted to provide a little release/comfort for myself, and I’m proud of this one!

You knew they were laughing as soon as you got into the office the next morning. Not so subtle hushed whispers and baiting for remarks that you’d normally snap back with. But you keep your head down, lunch forgotten in the car. You’d never let someone tell you what he had last night, not usually, but you’re sure that it’s what you expect from the guy you hate yourself for really wanting - will do, that’s got you worked up the most.

No, that’s a lie. It’s an added situation, but what happened on your date last night, you’ve never felt so disgusted or panicked.

The men continue to talk before they go back to paperwork and shit talking, leaving you to shed your winter attire carelessly by your rolling desk chair. You sit down as if it’ll break, pulling your long gray buttoned down cardigan over your form. It’s not what you usually wear, either. Proud to show off your figure, knowing the guys here aren’t into your extra pounds, it never bothered you that much to put your cleavage on display while working in the police station as their only secretary. If they have any inkling towards you, then it’s ‘do me a favor’ or ‘get a beer for me, maybe join the rest of the boys as we hit on every other female but you’ kinda thing.

The air in the place changes before the sound of his thick leader combats approaches your desk. You keep your head down and plead, pretending to organize old files that are ready for the shredder.

Please don’t. Please don’t come over here. Please. Please.

“Hey, twerp.” He leans over the counter, vape in one hand, his newly freed arm propped across his other.

You raise a brow as your simple acknowledgement, trying to hold your breath as his cedarwood cologne and mint hair gel soak into your nostrils when he bends down to sort through the little decorative holographic candy dish you keep. Annoyingly, seconds later he’s whining. “Where’s the goods at? The fuck? Shit’s practically empty.”

Go away.

You manage to speak, cringing at how cracked your voice is, dangling over the precipice of breaking down. Here. In front of everyone. In front of him.

“I’m working right now. Go to the Dollar Tree if you want candy so fuckin’ bad.” You don’t even address him with a nickname or his last name. And it unnerves him. With a shove of your small crystal bowl, you watch the leftover mints slosh onto the counter and over your papers, and only then your reaction is what he wants. He needs you to look at him.

He’s smirking and chewing on the filter of his vape, blowing a smoke cloud into the air and making you grit your teeth. That clock in the distance sounds louder, cheaper. And Gator Tillman takes your distracted gaze and creeps around and starts looking at your desk. It’s your space here, regardless. And up until now, he used to know that too. You sigh, asking him what he’s doing,

“Where’s your purse, kid? You must be hiding it all in there. You on the rag, that it? Would explain why you’re being a bitch and the stuff isn’t here.”

“Gator…”

He kicks your coat aside, but pauses his searching when you say his name. Like a damned addiction he can’t yet admit to

“Calm your granny panties down. Where is it at?”

“It’s not here.” You’re losing control of yourself. He keeps pushing.

“Why? You know nobody gives a shit if you bring your red tide plugs in here. Can’t have you bleedin’ all over shit. It’s mighty unprofessional, you know?”

“Take your shriveled little ballsack elsewhere, I’m bored with you.” He’s grateful you’re engaging, hands sliding over his cargo pockets and patting.

“Or —“

Your heart rate accelerates, knowing exactly where this is going. It’s why he originally came to your desk, you’re not stupid.

“ — You didn’t get laid last night. Would also explain this crap.”

“Stop it.” It's pathetic, a weak demand, even to your ears, but it’s all you got, that anxiety clawing your esophagus and winding up around your lungs like a cobweb, squeezing like a vice.

“I told you he was a loser, darlin’. You never listen. So what happened?”

“I asked you to quit.”

“And I asked you what happened. What? He’s too much of a pussy to put it in when there’s a little blood? Did it make him queasy —“

You’re out of your chair and facing him, hands on his leather jacket. And he’s down in your chair, the wheels moving so fast that he flies back and hits the filing cabinet, scattering things everywhere, his legs coming up and then his heels slamming down rather comically. The guys howl in the background, making Gator having to inhale sharply to get it together. You’re walking away from him and down the hall to the restroom where he follows, walking right in behind you and slamming his hand on top of the metal stall door to prevent it from closing.

You try but it’s no use. Your fight is gone, the burn blurs your vision, scorching your throat, making everything hazy.

“You don’t fuckin’ do that to me in front of them, you hear me? You don’t disrespect —“

A sniffle that would’ve been quieter, it echoes in the expanse of the cold, gray walls. You pass him and find yourself clutching the sink, pleading. It’s like you’ve lost all ability to walk, to think, to process how to guard your tightly kept emotions.

And it scares Gator Tillman to death.

“Gator, please just go away?”

His boots creak and squish on the floor as he pivots and finds a space beside you, folding knuckles resting beside your hand, nearly touching, a warmth that threatens you both within its encasement.

“Is this about your outfit? The baggy sweater thing? You know the guys all stare at your big tits when you wear those other tops, right?”

You’d laugh, even be prideful, but you don’t believe a damned thing right now. Because in spite of what he says, you know Gator has a soft spot in his heart that isn’t touched by his namesake’s cruelty. You shake your head and watch him take the vape out, your eyes glistening with tears when you take in his form. He blows a line of smoke and damn near chokes when he sees the actual tears drip down your cheeks.

“Can I have a hit of that?” It’s a bold move. In part because you always roast him for it, and two, because his mouth has just been on it and he’ll get to taste you. You’ll be tasting each other.

He hands it to you, fingers brushing yours. He wants nothing more than to touch you, and he has to fight himself where he stands, feeling an electricity at the nape of his neck that shocks his flesh full of goosebumps, as you wrap your lips around the mouthpiece and puff a few times, coughing. He smiles softly, in spite of the situation.

You, you’re trying to mull over how you can taste his minty saliva beneath the nasty ass acidic fruit cloud that’s misting over your lungs. “Jesus Christ, what flavor is that?”

Taking it back, he’s all too eager to sample you, clicking his lips together and pocketing the vape. “Think it’s banana kiwi.”

There’s a comfortable beat before you both remember why you’re here. It dawns on Gator then, and you both know it. There’s this dark look that pools in the mossy oak of his gaze, drowning out all rationality. His voice cracks sharp, a tone that you’ve never heard before. “Did he hurt you? What happened last night?”

“Just drop it, okay?” You find your voice again, but Gator is already seeing red, a tunnel vision of fire and brimstone with your date from the night prior.

You aren’t ready for it, not in the slightest. Your skin prickles to life, body drenched in elation, relief, and struggling to catch up with your racing heartbeat. His pointer and middle fingers find your chin in the gentlest press, tilting. “Kiddo…”

“Doesn’t matter what he did.”

“You know it fuckin’ does.” Gator’s thumb twitches as it catches a teardrop. It tracks across your jaw and back.

You’re a little angry now, finally snapping at him like an animal that’s cornered. “Fine. You wanna know what he did, Mr. Prom King?” Gator winces at how you use his former title, clearly not impressed. You didn’t run in the same circles and he knows where this is going.

“Twerp, c’mon —“

“Just shut your mouth and listen for once, since you want to know so badly.” Your hands leave the speckled counter and you step away, swiping at your damp eyes. “He took me to dinner and waited until the waiter came to take our orders, to tell them that he wasn’t paying for mine. And you know, I just thought he was a douche. But I guess he had the smarts to wait until the waiter left again before he told me that what I ordered wasn’t appropriate, so he didn’t feel comfortable paying for it.”

Gator, still a little confused, speechless, questions, “Well, what did you get?”

“Steak and fries.” You want to scream at what Gator is not seeing.

“But most people like that kinda shit? I eat that every weekend —“

You blow out a breath that causes you to choke on a small whimper. This causes Gator to change his tune. “Wait…”

“He thought I should have the side salad for ‘someone my size.’ And after dinner was over, he made it a point to inform me that no one would go out with someone dressed in a dress that tight. How embarrassing it is.”

Gator is positively seething now, teeth clenching. And the fact that you wore this for the dickbag and he wasn’t all over you?

“I pointed out that at least half a dozen women in the restaurant were wearing more revealing outfits, that it’s not up to him or anyone else to judge. And he couldn’t wait to cut me off to let me know that he didn’t care about that. He cared about…” Your voice breaks and you laugh in wet disbelief.

“He cared about what?” Gator’s tone is at toxic levels now, nearing a whisper.

There’s no way to hide how you're openly sobbing now, snotting, lower lip quivering. “He cared about girls like me thinking guys like him wanna see someone who weighs this much, wearing something like that.”

“He needs his ass strung up on a barn door and used as target practice —“

“Don’t act like you give a shit, Tillman. I’ve seen the posters in your room, the girls you flirt with at the bars, the ones you talked to in school. Don’t be a fucking marauder with me.”

“How do you know? You didn’t even know me in highschool!” He’s offended and it pisses you off. Another fib. In this small town everyone knows everyone, or at least hears of them - that is a given.

“Oh, I knew you. I knew your crowd. And you all made it abundantly clear I was to stay out of the way. You’re just like all of the other assholes around here when it comes to how you treat women, nothing changes. Weight defines everything, even when it shouldn’t, no matter what body type a person has. It always does to people.”

“Then why the fuck did he ask you out if he was going to act like a bitch?” Gator goes straight for it with a sigh of confusion.

You laugh this time, a sound that levels Gator with diabolical unease. “He was bored and wanted someone to get him off, so he thought I’d be an easy enough, sure thing. Entitled fucking prick.”

It’s a somber silence after, your dying sniffles ceasing as you swipe your nose and attempt to collect yourself, stomach hollow and nauseated. You can’t stay here anymore, not after this. You manage to look at Gator and step with one hand on the bathroom door. “I’m going back to work. If you can not tell the other guys, I’d appreciate it.”

And as Gator is left alone in the cool, dim light bathroom, he’s already formulating an idea, going straight out the back entrance and into his squad car.

The next hour went by quicker than you thought, giving you time to push away all thoughts of your confrontation and reveals with Gator. You’ve given him more ammo to tease you with, but you’re also wondering why he’s not here? You’re in the midst of stacking new department funding files when you hear it. Your date’s voice.

“I didn’t do nothin’! You know I didn’t!”

And another, one that has your mouth going dry.

“Get your ass movin’, pencil dick.”

Your jaw is close to dropping, becoming unhinged seconds later as Gator rounds the corner in his gear, your date’s collar clutched in his fist, the vape in the other, and a very noticeable split across your date’s lip, complete with a bloodied nose. Gator stops short in front of the desk, shoving your date into its edge. He’s panting heavily, raising a brow at you, Gator amused from behind.

“Hey, twerp.” Gator grins like the Cheshire Cat. “Got a booking for ya to process!”

“I… what?” You come up with.

“You gonna tell her what you did, shitbird?”

“What’s going on?” You and Gator are going back and forth, your former date nearly ignored. This is not a coincidence. And you’re practically glued to your chair at the notion that Gator went after him in your honor.

Does this mean…?

“Caught this fucker side swiping candy at the damned Dollar Tree. What kind of prick does that when it’s a dollar?”

“I was not!” Your date is shouting.

The Dollar Tree? Wait…

You feel as if you’ve been hit with a pillow and swallowed the feathers, enjoying their light tickles that scratch at your throat. You want to laugh. By golly, you almost do. Gator whistles for another officer that takes your date down the hall. Seconds later he’s leaning on bended elbows, jacket crunching, his voice a whispered hum for you to hear, and you alone.

“Didn’t wanna forget this.” He unravels his arms and slides one into his pocket, his massive palm full of the candy you both like. He lets it spill into your dish, waiting a few beats before speaking again. “All good now.” With a snatching of his favorite piece of chocolate, he knocks his knuckles on your countertop.

“Get him processed in, yeah?”

You nod dumbly, watching him walk away. He turns around and waves with one finger, however, before he meets the other policeman and your ex-date.

“By the way, be ready at seven. I’m gonna pick you up and we’ll get supper.” He elgonates a leather clad arm, fingertips drumming on the doorway. His voice is raspy when he focuses back on you, eyes dark in a completely different way. “Wear that dress too.”

Your legs tighten together and you pinch at your cardigan, fanning yourself.

“You get your ass movin’ down that hallway, short stack!” Gator finishes, turning to you one last time and flashing a cheeky little wink.

Gator did indeed pick you up in his truck. Seven on the dot. He wore nice dark jeans and a crisp white button up, loosened to let a silver chain peek out, nestled amongst the thick chest hair, his leather jacket over him, hair slicked back, and his watch and normal boots. You wore that tight dress with a little unease, and slightly heeled boots over your sheer black tights, a few rings adorning your hands. When Gator walked you to your side of the car after walking you out of your house, you weren’t regretting anything about the purchase of the form fitting dress any longer.

When you got to dinner, Gator waited as you ordered, encouraging you to get the steak and fries that he knew you wanted. And after drinks, you shared the biggest piece of chocolate cake in the joint. Conversation flowed easy, felt good. Your old date wasn’t mentioned, but you both knew. Gator had taken you back to his place (per your request), where he’d laid you down in his bed and held your legs open until you were begging him to fuck you. And that he did.

His hand splayed atop yours, your dress around your waist, he’d taken you from behind, plaster escaping his paneled wall as a result. When that had ended, he’d stripped you free of everything, and walked you to his mirror, chin on your shoulder, fingers in your cunt. Showing you what he liked about your body, but telling you that it doesn’t matter what anyone but you thinks. And if anyone thinks differently, he’d put them all away. Impractical, but enough to cause you to cream his thick digits and soak his floor.

The next day, you’d worn your most low cut top with pride, settling at your desk to another empty candy dish. When you look up, Gator is smiling in your direction, that damned vape in one hand, candy wrapper in the other.

We all need someone to help us feel good about ourselves sometimes.

#kristenwrites #my work #my writing #gator tillman #gator tillman smut #gator tillman fluff #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x y/n #gator tillman oneshot #gator tillman x you #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman fic #fargo #fargo fanfic #fargo fx #fargo season 5 #fargo s5 #fargo fic #fargo fanfiction #fargo oneshot #gator tillman x plus size reader #gator tillman x plus sized reader #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman x female reader

[rustedhearts]

cowboy blues (gator tillman x fem!reader)

summary: you do your best to make sure gator has a perfect birthday—even against the wishes of his dead father.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ rolly's roller wheels blurb commissions!

tags: cowboy!gator (no cops here!), slight angst, fluff, smut (oral f receiving).

for @softagardenblooms! i hope you love this as much as i love you for always being so kind and sweet. yeehaw! ♡

wc: 1,248

the tillman ranch.

“Days off” didn’t exist on the Tillman Ranch. Never have, never will. Gator came to know that well when he asked his father to spend his 13th birthday at the shooting range with his friends instead of cleaning stalls. Roy’s adamant refusal (and insistence on a full day’s work even on the boy‘s big 13) was all Gator needed to know that he’d never be free of the ranch.

Not even on his birthday.

So, when his father died, it didn’t even occur to Gator that he no longer had to uphold the rule. He no longer had to work holidays or birthdays, no longer had to “man up” when all he needed was a lie down. But some part of him felt like Roy would still know. Like his spirit would come and kick him in the ass out on the field.

Like when Gator made it to Hell, Roy would be waiting with a special kind of torment.

“The ranch won’t go to shit if you take one day off,” you tried to insist. “C’mon, you deserve a nice birthday. A half day!”

But Gator just shook his head, lips latched around the mouth of a beer bottle. It popped free with a noisy swallow.

“No can do, sugar. Already got the guys workin’ overtime.”

And you huffed and pouted about it, upset that you couldn’t properly shower your man with love on his special day. But no one seemed more torn up than the birthday boy himself.

He trudged to work that day, but gritted his teeth and “took it like a man.” All morning as he brushed out the stalls, he heard his father’s voice in his head. Shaming him for getting sentimental, scolding him for finding too much importance in himself. Vanity’s a sin, son. God don’t look too kindly on men who think too much of themselves.

Ironic. Even Gator could scoff at that now. Though he fought the urge, every fiber of his being ached to be with you today. Just you, just him, tangled together mouth-to-mouth. He was a simple man, and sex was the perfect birthday gift.

But Gator still needed to outgrow his father’s shadow looming over him.

But it would be a cold day in hell before you allowed your man to spend the day in a hot stable shoveling shit rather than somewhere more enjoyable.

He took his father’s death pretty hard, and now he struggled to find joy where he used to. He called it the cowboy blues, but you knew better. And you’d do your damndest to prove that you could bring the joy back.

Starting with a perfect birthday.

You instructed a young rider to hurry into the stables with an emergency. Some frantic stuttering, some incoherent rambling and panting. Gator would assume the worst: that you were somewhere hurt and needed him. He always thought you needed him, and you let him believe it.

It worked out in your favor this time, because when he came running into the house—boots clomping in a run, work gloves on and trucker hat muddy—he found you unharmed in the kitchen.

Unharmed and half naked. Well, entirely naked save the flimsy ruffled apron tied around your waist.

He scuffled to a stop in the doorway, pinkness flooding to his cheeks.

“H-honey?” He swallowed. “What’re you doin’?”

You shrugged, playing with the strings of the apron. “Just bakin’ my man a birthday cake. You want a taste, hon?”

Gator’s eyes dragged over your body, inhaling deeply. He placed his gloved hands on his hips, a glazed look glinting in his eye.

“Oh…sugar, you know I gotta—“

“Gotta what? It’s your birthday, Gator. You don’t gotta do nothin’ you don’t want to.”

His eyes flashed to yours, brief hesitance brewing in his brows. He brought his lip between his teeth and dropped his hands. His gaze slowly slid downward again, head tipping to get a peek under the lacy hem of your apron.

"That so?" he mumbled.

"Mhm."

"Since s' my birthday...does that mean I get whatever I do want?"

You tugged the first knot of the apron strings free, keeping your eyes narrowed salaciously on his. "Depends. What is it you want, Gator?"

Gator plucked the gloves on his hands by the fingertips until they slipped free, landing with a smack on the kitchen tile. His hat followed, flung aside to let his hair loose. He took a large stride forward, dirtied boots clunking. All that ranch work started to pay off on his firm biceps and wide shoulders—you shuddered in anticipation of the first touch from those rough, callused hands.

They slid over your hips first, gentle and coaxing until you pressed your palms against his chest. They roamed lower, sweeping over the swell of your ass until they found the fat of it, squeezing both globes eagerly. Your lips parted with a sharp gasp, quickly swallowed by Gator's mouth slanted over yours.

"Want..." Gator could barely separate himself from your lips long enough to speak, words squished and smushed between tongue and flesh. "You...mm...on...table."

Despite the instruction, he guided you backward and lifted the small inch to the tabletop. Once seated on the cool surface, he broke from your mouth to nudge your shoulders. You lowered back, splaying flat. Gator flipped the hem of the apron over your stomach and smoothed his hands over your inner thighs, using his explorative and needy touch to spread your legs.

One finger swept through the slickness that awaited him, a chuckle filling the kitchen at your immediate squirming.

"This is all a man needs, sugar. His wife spread open on the table...all for him."

When all you could do was gasp and writhe, coached to excitement by his prodding and massaging touch, Gator's eyes flashed to yours again with a cocky grin.

"Really know how to spoil me, darlin'."

You heard the thump of his knees on the kitchen floor before you felt the heat of his mouth, attaching itself to your core and forming a suction that took the light out of the room. His fingers gripped at the fat of your thighs with greed, disrupting blood flow and bringing a soreness that would last days. But the pleasure lapping and nipping between your thighs was enough to soothe it all away.

You worried you weren't doing enough—it was his birthday, after all. Right now, this seemed entirely about you.

But through the blurred daze of pleasure, you took a peek at the man between your legs—gripping onto flesh for dear life, moaning and groaning between the loll of his tongue and pull of his mouth—and knew he was just as delirious with delight.

Gator stood to his feet with a glistening chin and ridiculously tight tacticals, which he rubbed at with a groan as he positioned himself between your trembling knees.

"Thank you, sugar," he sighed, thickened with relief. He smoothed the gelled hair back from his eyes and let his eyes roam over you again.

"You're...welcome," you breathed, still flushed and unsteady.

The tinkle of his belt buckle knocked against the table, zipper snicking with its quick release.

"Ready to spoil me some more?"

Your grin was nearly giddy. "Whatever you want, birthday boy."

It took another two hours to free yourself from the kitchen long enough to show him the real present: a sparkling new truck parked on the lawn.

He made good use of that spacious truck bed, and decided maybe birthdays were better spent off the ranch.

#rolly! #gator tillman #gator tillman fic #gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman x fem!reader #gator tillman blurb #gator tillman fanfic #gator tillman fanfiction #gator tillman smut #rolly’s roller wheels!

[joshlmbrt]

Another Gator request because I simply can't get enough 😌

Some guy won't take no for an answer but instead of Gator pulling the "I'm a sheriff's deputy" card and running him off, he just decides to pretend like he's your boyfriend until the guy finally takes the hint.

Could possibly be seen as a part 2 to I Owe You, but it could work great on it's own with however you'd like it to go.💖

Saved Twice. ( g. tillman x reader )

【𝜗𝜚 warnings; again, gator if you don’t like him!!!, some gross dude flirting with you and touching you, gator pulling the ‘i’m a cop’ card, short! can be read as a standalone - but is kind of like a part two. link here if you’d like to read it as a two part!

【𝜗𝜚 an; thank you for the request!!! im sorry it took so long!!! but i hope you enjoy

FARGO, NORTH DAKOTA.

“Come on! Just one round of pool, then I’ll leave ya alone, sweet thing.”

Your nose scrunches as you shake your head. “I’m sorry, darlin’, but I can’t,” You motion towards the waiting customers. “I got a lot of people to take care of! I’m sure you’ll find a nice lady!”

Darren, the man that had not stopped bugging you ever since he stepped into the bar, was a guy who always came into the bar already plastered.

Usually you could keep a distance, but for some reason, you couldn’t tonight.

“Aw, doll face, come on,” He slurs. He then leans closer, a smell of whiskey coming off in waves making you almost gag. “I’ll give you a big tip.” He grins.

You open your mouth to speak but someone is already doing that for you.

“I think the lady said no,” A bar stool is being pulled out next to the drunk and Gator sits down. “Is there a reason why you’re not takin’ that answer?” He lifts a brow.

“Move along, boy. I’m not talkin’ to you,” He grumbles, turning himself back to you, a hand touching your arm. You yank your arm away. “Uptight, hm?”

Your face scrunches in disgust again.

“I wouldn’t keep talkin’ if I were you.” Gator shakes his head.

The man grumbles to himself before humoring Gator. “Why is that?”

Gator smirks, eyes trailing down the man before back up. “I’m the law,” The man’s eyes widen a fraction. “I can take you in right now. . .” Gator looks at you. “Public indecency? What do you say, honey?”

Darren turns to you, color draining from his face. You consider it, a lie to get him locked up at least for a bit, but ultimately decide against it.

“Maybe next time. . . If there is a next time.” Gator nods, turning to stare at Darren.

“Well?” He snaps.

The man flinches and looks over at him. “Wh-what?” He gulps.

“Will there be a next time?”

“No. . . No, I can’t- I can’t get arrested. My wife will kill me!” He stands, although stumbling on his feet.

Gator rolls his eyes, turning towards you. “You okay, honey?”

You lean on the bar, humming. “Better now that you’re here. That makes. . . what? Two times saving me?”

“Who’s countin’?” He shrugs, a small smirk on his lips. “What do I get for it?”

“A kiss?”

“That would work.” You grin and lean closer. “You got it, Tillman.”

【𝜗𝜚 thank you for reading! comments, likes, feedback, & reblogs are encouraged, welcomed, & deeply appreciated!

#gator tillman x reader #gator tillman x you #gator tillman angst #gator tillman fic #gator tillman #joe keery x reader