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chelseasaysrelax · 9 days

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Hello OMG I loved your first kiss headcanons! I think your portrayal of the characters was spot on :) Since you mentioned that you'd be willing to write a longer piece if requested, do you think you could do one for either Travis or Dylan (with a GN reader) please? They're both my favorite 🥰

❦Playlist for Us❦

Pairing: Dylan Lenivy x GN!Reader

Warnings: slight angst but mostly fluff

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DJ Dylan, usually so confident, but right now he was fragile. Truly, Dylan was insecure but he always hid it behind a funny confident exterior but truly, he hated himself. He never imagined that anyone would want anything to do with him, especially after he watched Ryan choose to kiss Kaitlyn instead of him. Of course it was just a dumb game of truth or dare, he was even the one to suggest playing it, but something about watching Ryan and Kaitlyn hurt him.

It hurt him enough to make him storm off from the party back to the lodge. That's where he was now, sitting on the steps of the lodge, his earbuds in his ear blasting whatever playlist caught his eyes first. He stared out into the deep woods in front of him, would anyone be able to find him if he disappeared into the trees? Would it really be a loss? Maybe his parents would care if he disappeared.

Y/N would care, he thought. You were his best friend, known each other since you were kids. You two had practically been attached at the hip since birth. Your parents were friends, basically making you and Dylan be friends.

Still though during this summer, it was like you wanted nothing to do with him. You were always running off with Jacob or helping Abi with her art class, even Ryan you got along with. He scrolled on his phone looking at the playlist he selected 'A playlist for a certain Y/N', of course he just had to pick the one he mde for you. Not that you ever saw it though, it was full of your favourite songs but when he went to show it to you, you had told him you were too busy helping Kaitlyn.

Dylan did like you, he's liked you since you two were ten. But he's always been too much of a coward to say anything, he always thought that you deserved someone better than him. Someone that doesn't run off crying when a guy he likes kisses someone else. That doesn't make stupid jokes that no one finds funny. That you deserved someone like Jacob or Nick.

"You checking off angsty music listening on your goals for life?" Dylan jumped violently turning his head to look at you. Had you followed him here? He had been here quite a while, had you just been staring at him?

Dylan raised a hand to his beating fratic heart, trying to calm down, "jesus christ Y/N. I was about to scream 'bear'."

"Yeah sure you were," you chuckled walking over to the steps where Dylan was sitting, he pulled one of his ear buds out handing it to you as you accepted it gratefully plugging it into your right ear.

You two sat there in silence, listening to the music and looking out to the woods. Your hand fell to your side as you leaned back against the step, jolting your hand away suddenly when you felt it collide with Dylan's.

Staring at each other, you chuckled apologizing, "sorry."

Dylan shook his head, "no it's fine, if you wanna keep it there it's fine, I liked it." Realizing what he said, Dylan shook his head again trying to think of an excuse, "I'm just a little cold that's all, your hot. No, I mean your hand, it's warm. Not that you aren't hot, I mean you are, but I would never call you that because that's weird, but you are-"

Laughing, you lifted your finger to cover Dylan's lips, "Dylan if you thought I was hot, you could have just said that." You looked away slightly, muttering under your breath, "you aren't that bad yourself."

Dylan's eyebrows raised in surprise, "you think I'm-"

"Who couldn't," you cut him off, looking at him seriously. You never understood why Dylan was so insecure, he looked just fine. You always thought he was funny, he didn't have to be perfect at everything. It was Ryan's loss for not seeing how good of a person Dylan is.

However you would be lying if you said that Ryan kissing Kailtyn meant nothing to you. It was actually kind of a blessing, it meant you actually might have a chance. You sucked in a breath, "I mean you're Dylan Lenivy. You know how many girls thought you were just 'the man' in high school? How many guys were jealous of all the attention you got from girls?"

"You know I wasn't interested in them though?" Dylan asked.

"Obviously, you never even paid them a glance," you answered. You looked at Dylan, noticing the tears that were going down his face even in the dark, "why are you crying?"

Dylan looked away from you abrumptly, almost shameful. I Love You So by The Walters started to play quietly in your right ear as you sucked in a breath, leaning on your elbows listening to Dylan quietly try to muffle his cries beside you.

You were never great at comforting but you did your best at an attempt. You raised your hand landing it on Dylan's knee, keeping your eyes down on the ground, softly kicking a pebble on the stairs down to the rest of the gravel.

"I wish you saw yourself the way I do," you sighed, making Dylan look at you out of the corner of his blurry tears filled eyes, "you are perfect, and if Ryan can't see that than fuck him."

"This isn't about Ryan," Dylan hiccuped as he wiped his tears from his eyes.

"Than who is it about?"

"Someone."

"Well that's obvious," you rolled your eyes, "come on Dylan, I've known you since you were the snotty kid crying ontop of the monkey bars because some kids dared you to climb up them and than started crying when the bell went and you couldn't get down making me run to the principal's office for help."

Dylan playfully glared shoving your shoulder, "you promised to never speak of that day again!"

You chuckled, poking your tongue out at him, "my fingers were crossed."

It was quiet again, you two just looked at each other. You admired him, you've liked Dylan ever since you two were going to go to prom but you got stood up by your date so Dylan dropped his date and took you showing you the night of your life. You still remembered when Dylan showed you a secret way to the roof of your high school and you two sat up there in your prom attire listening to the music downstairs and just goofing around.

That was the day you realized how much you actually liked Dylan. You liked the feeling of his hands around your waist with your head on his shoulder while you two swayed to the music. You liked how easily he could make you laugh with the stupidest shit like when he stuffed two straws in his nostrils and said he was a walrus. Or when a guy at the prom started being harassing with you and Dylan quickly defended you, threatening to knock the guy out if he even came near you again.

You were actually going to tell him how felt over the summer while you two were councillors but than you saw how close he was to Ryan and than he would rant for hours about Ryan. You were truly happy for Dylan that he liked someone that wasn't the picture of Kurt Kobain in his bedroom but it still hurt knowing that he loved someone else.

"Remember prom," You questioned.

Dylan laughed, oh you could listen to his laugh for hours, "you mean I shoved a straw in my nose and called myself a walrus and than got yelled at for being immature by Mrs Hamilton for 20 minutes?"

"Eh Mrs Hamilton was a bitch anyway," you shrugged, "you know she gave me a B- on my english report she didn't like the paper I printed it on?"

"I never understood what kind of stick was in her ass," Dylan looked at you. You watched his tongue dart out of his mouth for a second, licking his lips before darting back into his mouth. Music still playing in your ear, you weren't even focused on the song at this point.

You were just hypnotized by his lips, you needed to know what they felt like, even if this would ruin the lifetime friendship you two had.

"Can I do something?" You asked curiously, Dylan looked at you confused before nodding. You nodded in response, scooting closer to him till your knees were touching on the steps of the lodge.

You raised your hand to Dylan's cheek, he looked away almost shamefully like he couldn't believe what you were trying to do. Like maybe this was just some cruel prank the group was playing.

"Tell me to stop," you said, making Dylan look at you again as your thumb carassed his cheek. Instictively he leaned into your touch, strands of his hair falling into his face but he didn't seem to mind as he stared into your eyes.

"What if I don't want you to?" He asked, feeling your thumb trace over his lips. Dylan took this as a sign, fluttering his eyes closed as he felt your warm breath on his face. He turned his face to the side as he felt his nose brush yours before he felt our lips on his own

At first he let you take control. Dylan's lips gently press against yours, as if he's is afraid he'll break you if he uses anymore force. You kiss him back slowly and feel your cheeks burning. Dylan's soft lips move in sync with yours, not too fast, and you smile against them. You're the one to pull away and look at him, smiling with you as he gently presses his forehead to yours, his hair brushing over his face. You nuzzle your nose against his and hear him chuckle softly.

“You’re so beautiful/handsome,” Dylan whispers, his fingers gently tracing your side, stroking it delicately, “I want you to remember that I will always be your best friend, even if stuff doesn't work this way."

“I will,” you whisper. Your lips reconnect with his. You move them against his agonizingly slowly. His hand lets go of yours and cups your left cheek and squeezes your waist. His lips are as soft as the softest pillows. They remind you of the sweetest simplest times. They are gentle and careful once more. His fingers gently rested against your skin and his nose brushed against yours, sending tingles down your spine. You pull away and gasp for air, not realizing you hadn’t been breathing until that moment.

Dylan holds your waist in his hand, grabbing his phone opening his spotify, "I was gonna give this to you earlier but-" Seeing the screen and reading the playlist name, you smiled brightly hugging Dylan in a bone crushing hug, feeling his hands go up and down your back.

"See what did I say? You're perfect."

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Thank you for requesting anon :) And thank you to those who read this, please like and maybe reblog as it really does help

Taglist:

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#the quarry #game #dylan lenivy #fix #I am playing this game right now and I love Dylan sm #this fic was so cute and warmed my heart #🥹

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chelseasaysrelax · 3 months

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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 #fix #Fargo #tv #I finished the season last night and felt some things those last two episodes #this is what I needed

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