when I was in high school I had a literature teacher who had a policy of unlimited extra credit. All you had to do was read a book by a notable author (his discretion) and have a little chat with him after school to prove that you read it. No limits, no need for variety (one month I decided I really loved Kurt Vonnegut and just read everything of his I could get my hands on).
Yes, I was tearing through books constantly, and talking to this teacher at least weekly. Because even though I always loved reading as a kid, literature was always a very weak subject for me in terms of a teaching-to-standardized-test school setting (I just do awful on "what color were the curtains" type multiple choice questions. Those details don't stick in my memory THEY JUST DON'T). But that didn't matter for this class. I could just read my way out of any bad test score. I have always had fond memories of how I "fudged" my way through that class and "abused' the extra credit policy.
I was thinking about it again today, and only just now realized that he absolutely tricked me into being well-read, while my teenage self thought I was totally getting away with something. THAT MOTHERFUCKER. I hope he's doing well.
My seventh grade English teacher did something VERY similar to this. Instead of speaking with her, I had to fill out a little sheet of information about the book... this was also the period of time I discovered erotic novels 👀 so I censored my 'summaries' and she NEVER caught on.
on another note, watched The Mummy (1999) the other day and I couldn’t help feel like the O’Connells and the Addams (Addams Family Values (1993) would get on really well ya know? The O’Connells are basically the pastel adventure version of the Addams, surely they would just be vibin’ over tea and crumpets in an extremely haunted mansion having a ball of a time
*Rick and Gomez, still frantically sword fighting*
Rick: Have I mentioned how wonderful my wife is yet, I really feel like I haven’t really expanded enough on how wonderful she is
Gomez: do go on, I would be delighted to hear about how wonderful your wife is, I strongly encourge all men to extoll the virtues of their wives with rapturous praise, however I should perhaps mention my wife is in fact better
*sword fighting intensifies as both men rapturously extoll the virtues of their wives*
booking by anon & @wolfiee10: 1- >1k, gator, fluff, smut, forced proximity, fake dating, enemies to lovers
pairing: gator tillman x fem!reader
summary: gator's sick of his father telling him to settle down, so to have a date to his father's wedding, he goes to the person he hates the most, because roy loves you.
wc: 4.2k
warnings: 18+mdni,smut, unprotected piv sex (tsk tsk), gator was kind of a bully, known each other since hs, snowstorm except i've seen snow once in my life before so it may be innacurate asf, reader and gator probs one or two years out of high school
a/n: hello my beauitfuls!!! thank you thank you thank you so much i love youuuuu 💗 got a bit carried away with this one (again) sorry 😅 but i hope we like it.
·༻ꫂ ၴႅၴ༺
There were many places Gator Tillman wanted to be right now. In the sheriff’s department, shoving a criminal behind bars while his coworkers watched in awe, at the quarry, drinking beers with his boys as they laughed about absolutely nothing, in the backseat of his truck with a girl underneath him that screamed his name like there was no tomorrow.
The list was extensive, but nowhere, nowhere on it was here — on your front porch, watching in silence as you double over laughing so hard that you had to hold onto the doorframe for support.
The sound was horrifying. So grating. So damn irritating. Just like the rest of you. And he just had to stand there shivering while you yucked it up, his only anchor the grinding of his teeth so he didn’t scream at you.
Jeez, he would’ve done anything to not be in this situation. But his dad had a wedding coming up and the past few months had been filled with the endless barrage of questions from family and townsfolk all the same. “So when are you gonna find your own little bride?” “Gettin’ to that age now where you gotta start thinking of a family.” “If you start now, you’ll have plenty of chances for good kids in the future.” It was the lasts one that got to him the most. Good kids. He was meant to be that for Roy. So he had to find someone to satiate the town’s never-ending hunger. And unfortunately, you were Roy’s top pick. Ever since high school, Roy had been bothering Gator about you. The golden girl. Sweet, doting, quiet.
In front of him maybe.
Gator saw the real you. You weren’t sweet, or doting and certainly not quiet. You were this — rude, degrading, and unabashedly loud. Loud wasn’t the right word. Deafening. In your insults and your eye rolls and the stupid fucking laugh that was still going.
“I’m sorry. I-” You giggled again. “Sorry, sorry- Just- Pfft- You want me to be your date to Roy’s wedding?”
Gator sighed, hearing the words repeated back to him. A week from now, he was going to have to spend a whole day in hell, pretending that you two were - barf - in love.
He shook his head. “Not just my date-”
“Oh right, you want me to pretend I’m your girlfriend.”
He stared down at his boots, kicking the puddle of melted snow on your porch. “Fi-fiancé, actually.” He felt the pink rush to his cheeks. Since when was he shy to talk to you?
“Fiancé?” You stoped entirely, all amusement draining from your face. “Why?” He explained the whole situation to you. And you listened. Didn’t make any snarky comments and tried with all your might not to make judgy faces either.
“Look, it’s only a few hours, nobody there really knows ya so just pretend. You’re really good at that aren’t you?”
You raised your eyebrows, stepping slightly inside because the cold was getting to you. “What is that meant to mean?”
Somehow, right before he opened his mouth to start ripping into you, he remembered that you were his only shot at having peace next week. He bit back all the insults. “Please. Just one day. Free food, pretty dress.” He had nothing else to offer you.
You scanned him up and down, and he was all to aware of the desperation oozing off of him. It was humiliating, but he was hoping maybe you’d take pity on his sorry ass. You straightened your posture, the tiniest smile on your face. “Well, where’s my ring, then?” Gator blinked at you in disbelief but you only just put your hand on your hip.
“If I’m gonna be your fiancé, I need a ring don’t I?”
·༻ꫂ ၴႅၴ༺
The dreaded day came quicker than Gator could have imagined.
He knew he was fucked from the moment he woke up. The winter air nipped at his skin as he forced himself out of bed, warning him to just stay there. As he splashed his face with freezing cold water to wake himself up, the fuss downstairs made a pit grow in his stomach. This was his father’s third wedding. After today, there’d be another stranger in his house. In a few months, kids, if Roy had his way. More people that Roy could compare Gator too. More people that would probably be gone soon enough.
Today, Gator had to smile and pretend that this was exactly what he wanted. And he had to do it with you on his arm.
The morning was spent driving back and forth from the church, dropping off chairs, flowers and everything in between. As the hours passed outside, the snow and wind were picking up, making the driver harder each time. Who the hell had a wedding in the middle of winter in North Dakota? Occasionally, he’d hear someone calling to ask if the wedding was canceled, but the response from Karen was always the same: “We’re not going to let a little snow stop us from the best day of our lives.”
It was about to be the worst day of his.
·༻ꫂ ၴႅၴ༺
By the time he reached your house, he could barely see anything through the white snowflakes pelting down at an incomprehensible rate.
He couldn’t tell whether the curling feeling in his gut was from the inconvenience this snow caused or the fact that this was it. The rest of the day would be spent with the person he hated most in the world playing make-believe that you were his fiancé. He would rather spend the rest of his life alone than that.
He took a deep breath, composing himself before honking the horn to call you out. One minute passed. Then two. He glanced to the window and couldn’t see any movement inside. With a huff, he pressed his hand to the horn again, longer this time, just willing you out. After about another minute, the front door flew open.
Gator went still.
You walked over, wearing a gorgeous floor length dress; modest enough that people wouldn’t talk but still showing off all your best features. You always were good at toeing that line to make all the parents and kids love you. Except with Gator. But right now, he wasn’t thinking about that as he watched you strut down your driveway, the flowy fabric dancing with your movements, and your hair and makeup done perfectly. You almost looked like a normal girl.
But as soon as you entered his car, Gator remembered exactly who you were.
“Don’t even have the decency to pick me up from the front door, asshole?” You grunted, collecting the fabric of your dress so it didn’t get stuck in the door.
“Would ya hurry up?” He grunted.
You simply took a deep breath, shutting the door behind you. “Let’s not fight, honey.” You said, the sweet sarcasm oozing off your voice. “It is a happy day after all.” Gator ignored your comment — and the strange feeling that nickname was brewing in his stomach — instead, reaching over you to open the glovebox. “What are you-”
His hand wrapped around the small metal item, holding it out to you. “Here.”
Your pupils blew wide, observing the ring pinched between his thumb and forefinger. You didn’t move for a long moment, and Gator’s patience was already running thin. He sighed, grabbing your left hand and sliding it on your finger. Even as he turned the engine back on and you drove down the street, you didn’t say a word for a long time. Finally, as you were turning towards the ranch, you spoke.
“Did you actually-”
“Relax, I’m not drainin’ my life savings for one miserable day.” His eyes darted back to the road, the next words fighting to push past his lips. “It’s my mom’s.” His teeth ground together, anticipating some sort of teasing from you. But you only said one thing.
“It’s really nice, Gator.”
·༻ꫂ ၴႅၴ༺
The chapel was already buzzing when they pulled up — townspeople and mostly family filling the pews. As you and Gator stepped inside, all eyes shot to you. Immediately, his hand shot behind him to clasp yours. To show that you were a couple, of course. He pulled you to the side and sped down the aisle, one goal in mind. Getting his dad to see you. Before he could reach the room where he knew his father was waiting, someone popped up.
“Gator, hon! How are you?” He squinted for a moment, trying to figure out who this woman was. Relative? Aunt?
“Uh-” He blinked, temporarily forgetting how to be a human. “Good. Really…good.” He tried.
The woman’s attention immediately drifted to you. The only reason why she was even talking to Gator, really. “Who’s this?”
Gator sputtered out your name, shifting so you could step in front of him. “My fiancé.” He choked out. The woman’s eyebrows shot up and Gator got the feeling that the idea of that was just as hypothetical to all these nosy relatives as it was to him.
“Well when did this happen?” He felt like he couldn’t get his words out. But lucky for him, you were one step ahead.
“One week ago! Proposed during dinner, it was so sweet.” You squeaked, all fake happiness. God, you were a painfully good actor.
“Oh, honey that’s beautiful! I didn’t even know you were with someone Gator.” Again, he couldn’t respond.
“We’ve been keeping it quiet.” You smiled. “Didn’t want to put a jinx on it.”
“Well, soon enough it’ll be you two here, huh?”
The image flashed in his mind instantly. Him at the end of the aisle, you walking down, your face peeking through the veil.
“Oh look at that, he’s already blushing at the thought of it.” The woman cooed. Gator was all to aware of the way your eyes darted toward him. Both of your eyes stayed stuck to him, waiting for something to escape his throat. The thing that finally got him to do so was a little squeeze of his hand from where the two of you were still connected.
“Oh, yeah. So excited.” He awkwardly raised your hand to his mouth, pressing a soft peck there. The moment he set it back down, your hand ripped out of his. He cleared his throat. “Well, better go see the old man before they tie the knot.”
And finally the woman set them free.
As they turned out of the main hall to a room on the side, you leaned in and whispered. “You gonna freeze up like that in front of your dad, too?” Gator only growled in response, pausing in front of the room where he could hear Roy on the other side. But just as Gator was reaching out for the door, someone else rushed up to him. Karen. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy like she’d been crying and the veil fell behind her in a mess. “Gator, come here.” With a terrified glance to Roy’s door, she dragged Gator (and consequently, you) down the hall. “They’re-They’re gone! I looked everywhere and-”
“Karen what?”
“The rings!” Karen was suddenly very aware of her volume, her voice coming back down to a whisper. “I can’t find the rings. How are we going to get married without them? Roy’s gonna be so mad.”
“Ok, ok, slow down.” You chimed in and Gator was beyond glad. He never was good at solving problems with anything other than his fists.
Karen paused, scanning you up and down. “Who are you?”
“I’m…” You breathed. “Gator’s fiancé.” Before Karen could react to that statement, you were cutting her off. “Now, what’s happening with these rings?”
“I had them tucked away safely in the box. I even double checked them last night.”
You nodded, calmer than ever. “Where did you put that box?”
Karen’s face contorted into the meanest scowl Gator had ever seen, and suddenly, she was grabbing you by the shirt and pulling you close to her face. “You think I’d be panickin’ if I knew?”
Gator saw a flash of shock on your face but it disappeared just as fast. “Is it in the chapel, you think?”
Somehow, your gentle energy exuded onto Karen and she let go. “I don’t think so, but I can’t be sure.”
“That’s ok. So…it’s probably at the house then!” Maybe Gator was starting to see all that sweetness his father was always on about. But it only made him more bitter that he didn’t receive the same treatment. Never had. “Any idea what room?”
“I already told you-”
“Ok.” Gator stepped between you two before Karen could blow her lid again.
“We’ll go check the house then.” You offered. Gator was about to protest, knowing he didn’t want to spend another second in that frustrating snow, even if it was just going up to the house and back. And then you two would have to search the whole house for a tiny box, and oh, God, he hadn’t even done the thing he brought you hear to do. But before he could say any of that, you were slipping your hand back into his and blinking up at him. “Gator, honey, we can do that right?"
“Sure thing.” He didn’t hesitate to respond. Fuck, what a pretty girl could do to him. He caught it as soon as he thought it. You? Pretty? Surely not. But as you led him out of the church, his eyes would not stop dragging over your figure, and the way your hair was styled perfectly, and when you glanced over your shoulder to check he was still there, he suddenly noticed how nice your eyes were.
As he stepped outside, the ice cold air slammed into him, crashing him back into this reality.
He didn’t like you. He wasn’t clinically insane. He squinted his eyes, trying to find his car in the oncoming pouring of white snow. It was getting damn difficult to do anything. One gust of wind and they weren’t going to be able to move.
And that’s exactly what happened less than an hour later.
·༻ꫂ ၴႅၴ༺
You’d been scouring the house for thirty minutes now — every room, every drawer, every damn corner.
“Where the hell is this thing?” Gator called after searching his dad’s study for the third time.
“I swear, it has to be here!” You sighed in equal frustration, flopping down the steps.
“Fucking hell, why’d you volunteer us to do this?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, avoiding eye contact where you met in the kitchen. “They’re probably in there waitin’ on us and now it’s on my ass to find it! Dad’s gonna kill me.”
“Well, I don’t know maybe we can give them this?” You pointed to the ring on your finger.
“Are you crazy?” He immediately yanked it off your finger, the protectiveness rushing through his body. He pretended it was for rational reasons. “They’re gonna do the ceremony with one ring and it’s his ex-wife’s?” He leaned in.
“Well, I don’t know! At least I’m trying to come up with solutions unlike you!” You pressed a finger to his chest, pushing him back a bit.
“Yeah, damn stupid ones! I don’t even know why I invited you here, you’re getting me into more trouble than you’re worth!”
“Fuck you, Gator. I’m leaving.”
“Go!” You spun on your heel, speeding for the door.
The second you threw it open though, the energy in the room shifted. So did the temperature. In front of you was nothing but solid white, your body already waving at the speed of the wind. The two of you had been so caught up in your search that you hadn’t realized the snowstorm outside. You glanced over your shoulder to him yet again, considering whether it was better to be with the storm here or out there. The frown on your face told him your answer.
“Don’t-” But there was no use. You stepped outside the door slamming behind you. Gator felt his heart drop to his feet. North Dakota snowstorms were nothing to fuck around with and you both knew that. “Wait!” He screamed, his feet moving faster than his brain.
He stumbled onto the porch, the force of the wind attempting to shove him to the side. Somehow, through the snow, he caught a glimpse of your dress. You were only a few steps ahead of him, on the last porch step as you yourself struggled to push forward. With all his might, he moved ahead, hand gripping onto the railing for dear life. You were still staring out at the snowy fields ahead, deliberating where to go from here. You took another step forward. He made it to the bottom step. But now he had to let go of the railing too. In the mass of snow, he’d lost sight of your body.
He squinted his eyes again, honing in on the bright fabric of your dress. With a deep breath, he rushed forward. His feet sunk into the snow, its resistance making traversing the short distance infinitely harder, but he finally reached you.
He wrapped his arms around your body, dragging you backwards with all his strength. “Are you crazy?” He shouted over the raging wind, though he wasn’t sure you could hear him. You weren’t exactly fighting him, but you weren’t trying to get back to the house either. “Why are you tryin’ to die?” The question came out more strangled than Gator was expecting as you both heaved yourself up the steps.
He couldn’t figure out which one of you was shivering more as he finally threw the door to the house open, both of you making it inside. Instantly, the warmth hit you. The floor inside had been coated in a small white dusting around the door from you and Gator’s dramatic exits.
“There’s a…” Gator panted, heavily. “Heater in my room.” You didn’t exchange words but navigated your shivering body towards the steps. If Gator wanted to kill you before, then he didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling now.
He watched carefully as you managed up the staircase, slowly adjusting to the warmth inside. You weren’t out there long enough to develop something serious but he had to be cautious. Luckily, beyond the general coldness, you seemed fine. “Room’s doors down on your left.”
You hesitated. “What are you-”
“I’ll be there in a second.”
A few minutes later, Gator was headed up the stairs with two feeble attempts at hot cocoa in his hands. As he turned into his room, he saw you, lying down in the sheets, bundled up in the warmth. Even though you were on thin ice with him, you did look sweet like that. “You’re an idiot, y’know that?” He grunted, setting a mug down on his nightstand while he put the other one on his desk. Though he was freezing, the heater was starting to warm up the room and you looked cozy under his comforter. To his shock, though, you shuffled over, lifting it up so he could crawl in too.
“Don’t make it a thing, I know you’re cold too.”
He shook his head, but moved over to the bed anyway, sliding between the sheets. You ended up facing each other, both your bodies still shaking slightly.
You sighed, looking past him at the drink on the nightstand. “You made us cocoa?”
“Don’t act so surprised, I can be nice when I want to.”
You bit your lip, your eyes drifting away like you were considering say something. You whispered it, quiet as possible. “Yeah, but not to me.”
Immediately, Gator felt the same irritation you always set off in him. “That’s not fair, you hated me first.”
“I did not. I barely talked to you until you decided I was a teacher’s pet and everyone needed to know that.” You snorted. “And don’t act like you would’ve cared if I got hurt out there.”
“You think I ran after you for fun?” He sighed.
“No. You ran after me so you wouldn’t get in trouble with your dad. Dead girl on the ranch isn’t exactly the best way to start a marriage.”
“Yeah, well, neither is this damn snowstorm.”
“True.” You sighed. “I know I shouldn’t have stormed off just…I sacrificed a lot to even be here you know. Once this starts spreading around town I’m branded as yours forever.” He hadn’t even thought about that, but you were right. Even if you ‘broke up,’ no one would dare approach you out of fear of him.
“So why the hell did you agree to it?”
You shrugged. “Cause I felt bad for you. I know how your dad can get. I’ve seen it at football games before.” Gator didn’t know what to do with your admission. You clearly didn’t either, brushing it off. “And besides. A girl comes to a wedding, they want a little music, a sappy ceremony, and maybe some good sex after. Was gunning for two out of three tonight but I got zero so far.”
And for the first time ever, Gator honest to God laughed at something you said. No sarcasm, no cruelty. And you were laughing too. Together, this time.
As the laughter died, a silence fell between the two of you. It felt strange, to be on the receiving end of your niceness. It felt good.
“You’re right.” Gator had never said those words to you before and never dreamed he would. “I think I’m the one that started hatin’ you first.” You went still, waiting for him to elaborate. “Teachers used to say that to me all the time. That I’m ‘more trouble than I’m worth.’ So did Dad. But you…Everybody loved you.” He felt his blood boiling at the memories. “Everytime I got told off for acting out, I’d always hear your name. Never figured out why I couldn’t be more like you like they all wanted. But it pissed me off.”
You rolled, shuffling a little closer. Gator was all too aware of the heat between your bodies now, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the covers anymore. “Then you started pissing me off in spite?” He nodded reluctantly. “And then I would get mad at you.”
“Got so used to the whole thing, just…thought it was how it’d always be.” This time, he moved closer, the skin of your legs grazing, your breaths mingling.
He felt it fall down his throat as you whispered, “Was?”
He wasn’t sure exactly what compelled him to reach out, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You think you’d settle for one out of three?” He tried, lips brushing yours. You responded in turn, lightly connecting your lips together. He barely felt you the first time, and still, a jolt ran through his body. He kissed you again, a little firmer this time. And again and again and again. That hot cocoa was long forgotten. Your warmth was far more intoxicating. And as his hand came to rest on your hip, yours on his neck as your bodies moved against each other, the friction making his pants grow tighter by the second, he felt himself falling under that spell that everyone else did. Seeing you. Maybe as you always were.
His fingers danced down your thigh, bunching up the fabric of your dress so it was over your hips. He choked when he felt lace at his fingertips. “Sure you were only gunning for two out of three?” He chuckled against your neck. You didn’t respond, your fingers working desperately at his belt buckle at the same time his dipped past the waistband of your underwear. With you palming him through his briefs, him gathering up your slick, you both let out equally loud moans. Quickly, he shoved his pants down to his ankles, pulled your leg over his hip and slid himself in. All the while, his lips remained on yours, swallowing the sounds of satisfaction you were both let out. Usually, when he was with girls in bed, he was quick, crazy and desperate to get off as fast as possible. But for some reason, today, he found himself moving slow, careful — savoring that for the first time ever, his name wasn’t falling from your lips in annoyance. As he pulled out and sunk back in deeper, your arms came to wrap around his shoulders as tight as possible. Never did he think you would be trying to hold him close instead of pushing him away. He had no idea how much he wanted to hold you back. He had a bruising grip on your hip, guiding your movements.
As your pleasure crested, you slammed your lips into his again, this time much more fierce and certain than the first kiss. He was pretty sure, somehow, it was that feeling that made him follow right after. He stayed there — close to you, tangled in you — and even then the spell didn’t wear off. You’d decided to do all this for him, even though he had never been kind to you. That was going to change now. From the nightstand, his phone rang out. Reluctantly, he pulled out of you, both of you wincing at the feeling.
When he answered the phone, Roy’s voice came out the other end, saying words that made Gator unfortunately burst out laughing. You turned to him, your eyebrows pressed together, voice soft as you asked, “What’s going on?”
Sukuna has two primary rules when he goes out. Text him if you’re leaving the house, and if you’re not - don’t fucking touch yourself. It’s too bad you’ve never been a big rule follower.
I mean really, what did he know anyway? They were your toys, so you were going to play with them whenever and however you pleased. Even if it meant directly disobeying a very clear and very concise order.
Plus, If you were being honest, the knowledge that you were actively breaking a rule (or several) just made the blood thrumming through your veins pulse hotter, made the slide of the toys feel that much sweeter.
With that snide little pulse of satisfaction beating in your chest, you’d plucked a plethora of toys from your bedside drawer, plopped down onto your freshly washed sheets and pressed the fat head of your favorite vibrator right onto your clit. No teasing, no build up - just raw, greedy pleasure as you flicked the power up and up and up until you were squirming against it.
“Fuck that’s good…” You sighed contentedly, letting your head loll back into the plush pillows, breathing in the soft perfume of laundry detergent and remnants of crisp cologne. You’re sure you painted a sinful picture - splayed open on the king sized bed, thighs spread wide, panties still looped lazily around an ankle, hips rolling in an unhurried grind against the buzzing vibe.
Sukuna never allowed such frivolity. There was never pleasure without work, without earning it first. You supposed it’s what you’d signed up for - the rules, the structure. It was grounding, satisfying. But sometimes you just needed an hour or two of pure unadulterated gluttony.
Just as you were reveling in it - the rush of pleasure from the humming vibrations, the shiver of excitement prickling over your skin, coursing hot through your veins - your ears pricked up. It was subtle, but through the haze you swore you heard a noise just outside the room. The subtle squeak of a floorboard, then a quiet cough, like someone clearing their throat.
Your eyes flew open, and the adrenaline thrumming through your veins turned to ice when your gaze caught on the figure standing in the doorway.
Sukuna raised a lone eyebrow at you from where he was leaning against the door frame, expression one of inscrutable disappointment. Suddenly the atmosphere shifted, sharp and sizzling like a live wire in the space between you. His hulking form devoured the space, thick arms crossed as he took in the sight of you splayed open on the mattress doing precisely what he’d told you not to not thirty minutes prior. You swallowed hard, watching a muscle twitch in his taut forearm.
“Enjoying yourself?” Came his slow drawl, interrupting the silence like the sneaking slice of a blade, and even from the doorway you could hear the cold irritation edging his otherwise flat tone.
You froze, eyes wide, looking all the more like a deer caught in headlights as you slipped your hand out from between your thighs, vibrator flicked off and abandoned in the next watery flutter of your lashes.
“I’m sorry,” came your desperate apology before you could think, a vein attempt to placate the man standing before you.
Your confidence dwindled more and more as the seconds of silence ticked on. You could feel the steady pulse of anger emanating from him, turning the stagnant air between you thick and choking with unspoken reprimand. A cold unease settled over you as you watched one of his thick fingers finally move - beginning to tap against his arms, still crossed tightly over his plump chest.
“Nah, you’re not sorry,” he said finally, and took a few slow steps into the room, carmine eyes narrowed to assess the state of you. You were frozen - still spread open over the mattress, though your knees were tilted inward in an instinctive shield. A plethora of toys he’d bought over the years surrounded you, scattered and guilty like bloody fingerprints at a crime scene. “You’re gonna be though.”
It was times like this when Sukuna truly scared you. His outward irritation you could handle - all aggravated grumbling and wild obvious fury like the blaze of a forest fire, never directed at you specifically. But when his anger was pinpointed like this, simmering and sharpened to a needled blade, like the cool burn of ice - you found yourself unable to do anything but tremble in its wake. Your own confidence whittled down to nothing beneath his quiet disappointment.
“I really am sorry sir,” you tried again, voice barely an audible squeak.
“Oh, being polite isn't gonna save you now, pet.”
You watched his thick jack twitch, teeth clenched tightly behind a barely concealed snarl.
“Which one was it, huh?” He interrogated, flaming eyes roaming over the different toys before they finally landed on the one you’d tossed aside - a big wand vibrator - your favorite. “This one?”
With a few purposeful steps he was beside the bed, and he leaned down to wrap his fingers around the base of the toy, holding it up to you. Your eyes flicked up to it, tracing the smooth curve of the head where your slick was still turning the silicone slippery - blatant evidence of your disobedience. Your lips parted around a shaky breath, and in the same motion your tongue darted out to wet them without thinking.
Sukuna puffed a hot breath through his nostrils, nodding to himself in confirmation. “Yeah, this one.”
His spare hand dropped to your knee, fingers tapping at the outside firmly.
“Spread.” He spoke in a tone so low, so final that you could do nothing but acquiesce. Your legs split almost entirely of their own volition, and with a controlled hand he tucked the thick vibrator snugly between them.
“Since you like this one so much, you can have it.”
You jolted when the firm head of the vibe hit you once more, cooled slick silicone kissing your sensitive clit - still hard and needy from your previous play.
“All of it.”
He flicked the toy on, and a blaze of pleasure hit you like a freight train.
“Oh…” You gasped, legs falling open limply either side of his thick forearm.
It started pleasant enough, gentle rumbles massaging your sensitive pussy in slow delicate rubs. But within a few seconds Sukuna’s wayward thumb had clicked the toy up to its previous setting, holding the toy firmly as sweet little rumbles turned to a furious buzzing. You couldn’t help your spineless cry when he didn’t stop there, flicking higher and higher until you found yourself scooting back into the pillar of the headboard in a vein attempt to escape the sensation.
Despite the toy being your favorite, you were certainly no power queen. The highest you’d dared to go was still a significant way from the maximum, and even then you usually preferred working yourself up the edge with a slow teasing rumble. Sukuna had no such considerations, and whatever patience or sympathy he might have had for you had shattered when he’d walked in to find you breaking one of only two rules he set for you, and he was always one for re-enforcing his rules.
Each time he pressed the vibe back to you, your legs clenched inward around his broad forearm, an instinctive action you couldn’t stop. You could sense his rising annoyance, building higher each time you wrapped defensively around him and he was forced to shove your legs back open repeatedly. This continued until finally you heard a sharp puffed exhale through his nose, and he tossed the vibe aside, turning and storming from the room without a word.
For a heart-stopping moment you simply lay in utter silence atop the sheets, frozen. Thinking he might genuinely be too angry to handle you, but a few moments later he stalked back through the doorway holding a shining silver bar in his hands. You shook your head in disbelief as you watched him approach, listening to the fleshy slap as he tapped one end of the bar against his open palm as if it were a baton.
“No…” You pleaded, eyeing the spreader bar glinting in the light like it was the muzzle of a rifle.
“Oh yes, princess,” Sukuna mocked when he reached you, big hand looping tight around your ankles so he could tug your trembling legs apart once again. “Spread ‘em. Now.”
It wasn’t a request, it was a command - firm and final, and you could think of nothing else to do but to comply. With a frown you lifted either trembling foot through the leather cuffs at end of the thick metal bar, guided by his firm grip around either ankle. He hummed, cinching the straps tight until you felt the pressure of the leather biting your skin.
Sukuna stepped back an inch, admiring his handiwork as you lay back against the pillows. Legs spread wide, squirming against the restraints - giving him an unrestricted view between your sticky thighs. You wanted nothing more than to close your legs, scurry back and hide from him, shame already licking hot up your neck.
“There we go, much better,” he purred, “y’know I don’t like doing this, but you just can’t seem to do what you’re told.”
That was a boldfaced lie and he knew it, you could tell just from the way his eyes were glittering, pupils blown dark and desirous, that he was loving every moment of this, of punishing you.
“So when I tell you to keep your legs spread, you better keep them fucking spread. ‘Kay?”
With that biting demand, he tucked the toy once again between your now spread thighs, and you jolted in place when the vibrations hit you once again. He hadn’t bothered to start low, instead he’d hiked the setting to near maximum, leaving you slack-jawed and panting, writhing against the spreader bar. Pleasure or pain, you realized in the moment that your body couldn’t tell the difference anymore, all it knew was that whatever it was - it was too much.
“G’nna cum…” You managed to gasp, blinking up at him with half-lidded, lust blown eyes.
He met your syrupy gaze with a stern coolness that did nothing to ease the heat swirling in your belly, and simply tutted in reply to your feeble whining.
“Did you really forget all of your manners in the single hour I was away?” He questioned harshly, and you watched the sharp line of his jaw fade as your eyes rolled backward.
You shook your head frantically, eyes squeezed closed as you felt your thighs begin to shake, nerves shot through with the intensity of the vibration.
“Oh please,” you huffed, “hngg… can I please cum, sir? Please?…”
“Good girl,” he purred, “go on then, cum for me.”
“Oh thankyou… thankyouthankyouthankyou…”
Your orgasm hit you hard, a stunning wave of heat and pleasure that left your head spinning behind your eyelids, stars dancing in the blackness there. Your whole body trembled, caught halfway between grinding up against the vibrator and pushing down into the sheets away from the onslaught.
The sounds you made were guttural - choked moans and grunts as you clenched helplessly around absolutely nothing, sure that you were soaking the sheets below. When you finally came back down you felt exhausted, body still shaking with residual throbs of pleasure.
“Okay ‘kuna, ‘s enough.” You panted, blinking up at him.
But the vibrations didn’t wane, and when your vision refocused you found that he was watching you with that lazy self-gratified smirk of his. It was then that you realized just what kind of game this really was.
You shook your head frantically, mouth tugged into a frown, lower lip beginning to wobble as the incessant buzzing continued.
“It’s too much, please no more,” you begged, fingers tightened to clenched fists atop the sheets, scrunching the fabric into a wrinkled mess.
You squirmed, trying desperately to pull away from the toy, but to your dismay a large palm slid over your belly, angled downward to pin you against the mattress.
“Oh well that’s just too bad,” He mused, fingers teasing down to slide either side of the vibrator, spreading you open until there was nothing between your sensitive nub and the slick silicon, no fleshy barrier to dull the sensation.
“Bad girls don’t get to make requests, and make no mistake - you’ve been a bad. fucking. girl.”
His voice came out an accusatory hiss, and his thumb flicked the vibration up higher and higher with each word, flourishing the sharp sounds with a plasticky click as he increased the intensity until you squealed. You’d been unable to differentiate the pleasure and the pain earlier, now you knew the sensation thrumming over your clit was simpler than that - it was raw hot overstimulation.
“Do you know why you’ve been bad?” Came his rumbled query, breaking your spiraling thoughts.
You nodded wildly, making low, keening noises as you tried to steady your breathing, unable to quite comprehend the overwhelming sensations accosting you.
“So tell me then,” he prompted.
Your brain was scrambled, buzzing like static, like the vibrations stuffed between your thighs. You tried to speak but found that your tongue was tripping over the vowels.
“T-uh-touching my…-hah-myself without your -hnng-…permission,” you managed to choke out around involuntary gasps.
“That’s right,” he agreed, rubbing the vibe in slow swirls up and down your aching pussy, watching the hard silicone push against your puffy mound between his fingers, spreading the bubbles of slick there. “And what do you say?”
“Oh, I’m sorry sir, I’m sorry, I couldn’t help it,” you cried, “just needed you so bad and I-i-….”
Your voice trailed off when his slow rubbing paused, leaving the fat head of the vibe pressed firmly against your clit instead. It rumbled in an incessant and furious buzz that had your toes curling against the sweat soaked sheets until they ached.
“So it’s this little pussy, huh? Is that the problem? So goddamn needy…” He murmured, thick fingers of his spare hand lowered to tuck beneath the head of the toy. Two digits slipped up through your folds, so wet that his digits met zero resistance when they pushed inside. “And you just do whatever she says brainlessly - is that right?”
His thick fingers curled, stretching, beckoning. You felt like silk beneath the rough press of his digits, like hot wet satin clenching around him.
“Oh god… ‘m gonna cum again ‘kuna…”
You swallowed hard, jaw slack and body curled over as you watched him grind the vibrator over your swollen pussy, vision beginning to blur at the edges, tunneling until all you could see was the obscene sight between your thighs.
“Oh,oh… oh…” You chanted in a breathy mantra, eyes half-lidded and glassy, locked on the veins jumping in his toned forearm.
“So fucking do it then.” He demanded. “Cum around my fingers like the little slut you are.”
That did it - his harsh words alongside the sight of him taking you how he pleased sending your pussy into a fit of frantic pulsing throbs. He worked you through it, squeezing against the tight clench of your walls as you desperately milked his fingers.
“Forgetting something?”
You licked your lips, sure that you were drooling through the white hot pleasure sizzling over your skin, quickly turning to delicious relief when the vibrations finally ceased.
“Thank-thankyou, sir…”
You watched through half lidded eyes as he lifted the sticky head of the vibrator away, though your blissed relief turned quickly to confusion as his palm slipped into view in its place. It raised, as if in slow motion, and then came down against your drooling pussy in a single sharp hit. Before you could quite fathom it, he had repeated the motion - slapping your messy cunt in three more swift strikes.
You choked out a staggered sob when he replaced his fingers again with the firm press of the wand. Hot pain seared up your thighs, over your swollen folds and rubbed raw clit - or god, maybe it was pleasure. You really weren’t sure anymore. All you were certain of now was that you were crying - thick salty ears carving hot paths down your sweat strewn cheeks. You tried to catch his eyes through the blur of tears, sniffling between strangled moans.
“Please sir, please pleasepleaseplease…” You babbled, stuck in a perpetual loop of begging as you shook your head, the motion entirely instinctual.
“Please please please, what?” He echoed, voice pitched high in a mimicry of your feeble babbling, though the last word dropped low and piercing.
“Please sir slap my needy pussy again?” He prompted cruelly, mockingly. “Or please sir make me cum some more?”
You were shaking your head more incessantly now, a firm purposeful motion that felt as though it might leech all of your remaining strength.
“Please s-stop, ‘s too m-uh-uch!” You sobbed out a garbled slur of words, brain well and truly fried.
“No.” Came his sharp denial, and he pressed the vibrator harder against you, watching the way your thighs began to tremble. “You’re the one who wanted to cum, right? Wanted to play with your little toys while I was away?”
His wrist moved furiously - coaxing at that silky little spot deep inside, bruised now beneath his attention. Those calloused digits massaging your insides incessantly alongside the unending buzzing vibrations had you shaking, babbling nonsense and swatting feebly at his clenched forearm.
“So now your greedy little cunt is gonna take as many as I give it, cum as many times as I tell it to - and you’re gonna thank me for each and every one.”
Then you felt it - a familiar aching pressure beginning to build beneath the numbing hum of the vibrator, body pushed closer to the limit with each curl of his fingers. Your eyes shot open, wide and blinking away hot tears, desperate to catch his gaze.
“S’kuna hnnn-…stop, really. Think ‘m gonna-…” You cut yourself off with a strangled grunt. Your body suddenly felt limp, heels digging into the mattress to ground yourself as best you could around the pry of the spreader bar.
“Gonna what? Gonna piss yourself?” He sneered, and despite your whining, neither his fingers nor the press of the vibrator eased.
You watched him work your sloppy pussy with unfocused eyes, vision glassy and vacant as the mounting pressure became suddenly overwhelming.
“Go on then. Do it, brat. Soil yourself,” he hissed.
At the mere sound of his cruel words, the dam broke - a hot slick gush between your wobbling thighs alongside a wave of relief so intense that it was dizzying. You slumped forward, curled in on yourself. Panting between broken sounding moans and shuddered breaths - weeping pathetically as you tried to tug your knees together - leather straps still biting at your ankles. He didn’t waver, the vibrator remained locked against your twitching cunt despite your writhing.
“Look at you. Can’t even control your own fuckin’ bladder.” Sukuna spat and slipped his soaked fingers from you, smearing your mess over your folds, sticky and glistening wet, still burning hot from where he’d slapped you raw. “Squirtin' all over me. Filthy fuckin’ girl.”
You mumbled something then below your breath, an incoherent string of babbled pleas in response. When you dipped your limp head and said nothing else, he raised a hand and tucked it beneath your chin, lifting until he could see your face. He cradled your heated cheek in his big palm, and his expression softened an inch when he caught sight of you. Your cheeks stained with streaks of mascara turned to liquid coal, your own spit, snot, and tears smeared messily over your face.
“Cum for me one more time now sweetheart, and we’ll call it even, okay?” He murmured, voice entirely void of its previous heat. His thumb rolled in soothing circles over the hinge of your jaw as you squeaked out a spineless little sound and began shaking beneath him - another weak orgasm wracking your body.
To your bodies utter relief, the vibrations lowered steadily in the wake of your nth orgasm until the buzzing hum ceased entirely. The entire stretch of your inner thighs, alongside your abused pussy was a heady cocktail of numb and entirely oversensitive - like he’d peeled your skin off and you were left with only the bare nerve endings beneath. Even the kiss of the cool air had you wincing.
“‘Kuna ‘m sorry… ‘msosorry, please don’t be mad at me anymore…” You cried, full body sobbing now. Sucking in heaving, labored breaths through the tears streaming freely down your flushed cheeks.
In the next breath he’d snapped the leg restraints from your ankles, rubbed hot and raw from the bite of leather - and before you could utter another word he’d tugged you up into his lap, and you found your head pressed firmly against his chest. You felt suddenly unimaginably fragile, nuzzling into the swell of his pecs, and you turned your head inward - nose stuffed into his shirt, breathing deeply.
You stayed there for a good while with your eyes squeezed closed, listening to his steady heartbeat thrum in your ear. His hand traced slow soothing shapes down your spine, breaking every so often to instead pet at your sweat slicked hair, until your breathing slowed and the fog plaguing your head cleared an inch.
“I’m getting you all dirty.” You finally mumbled into his chest, sniffling a little, desperate not to get snot on him alongside the plethora of other bodily fluids you were currently soaking him with.
“Don’t worry about that, doesn’t matter,” he murmured, nosing delicately at your hair, “you okay sweetheart? Went a bit hard on you.”
“‘M okay,” you mumbled into the damp fabric of his shirt, “I deserved it.”
Sukuna pressed a slow kiss into the crown of your head, and you felt him pause there for a moment to inhale your soft scent.
“Still,” he continued, voice a gentle rumble, “You know you’re my good girl, yeah? I’m not really mad at you.”
You nodded, and despite the exhaustion and pain you knew his words were true, and the sentiment made your chest ache.
“I know,” you sniffled, feeling another wave of tears begin to well at your lash line, “love you.”
“I love you too, princess. You did a real good job for me. Let’s go take a bath, yeah?”
────────────
this has been sitting dead in my drafts for months, some parts maybe a lil rushed but you get the idea <3
It's been a hot minute since I've read a Joel fan fiction and I have to say for a single chapter- I've been edged by an author... and I ain't even mad!
'Flicker' by daryltwdixon
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Remember- if you enjoy the story, give the author some love 💕 💕 💕 💕 💕 💕
summary: gator tillman x gf!reader. gator likes to prank you, tease you, and scare you. what happens when you think gator's just pulling another prank, but it might not be him behind the mask?
CW: 18+ MDNI, smut, vaginal fingering, handjob, unprotected p in v sex, nipple play, a little bit of spit kink kinda, creampie, established relationship, angst, hurt/no comfort, dark themes, mature themes throughout, mentions of death, kidnapping, assault, i really think that's all so plz lmk if i forgot anything
WC: 4.1k
A/N: ok so this kinda all came together very quickly, honestly im shocked that i wrote/edited this as fast as i did. i was working on this a bit a few days ago and then i got locked in on this for probably 14 hours straight and i'm just hoping it turned out as good as it seemed in my head! also my first time writing smut (i dont think im good at it). i hope y'all enjoy!! lmk your thoughts :))
part 2
part 3
Halloween weekend started with rain, cold freezing sheets of rain that seemed endless. Just a steady downpour that painted the streets silver and turns the world outside into a hazy watercolor. It was kind of weather that makes staying home feel less like a choice and more like a requirement. And for once, neither you nor Gator have anywhere to be. No shifts, no overtime, and no emergencies, just two days off together.
You spend most of Saturday curled up on the couch in one of Gator's hoodies while he sprawls beside you in a pair of grey cargo sweatpants with his boots kicked off onto the floor. A collection of low grade horror movies is stacked on the coffee table. Some empty takeout containers already littering the floor surrounding the couch.
Gator grabs another DVD from the pile, smirks at you and wiggles his eyebrows. "This one next." You squint at the cover, it looks like it was designed by someone with a low budget, way too much fake blood, and a deep love of slasher movies from the early 2000s. The killer stands front and center on the cover, an almost comically large kitchen knife covered in what looks like red paint held above his head. "Nope, not that one." Judging by the cover, the movie is poorly made but for some reason, fear still starts to bubble low in your gut. Gator pouts at you playfully. "Gator, no. The last three movies involved people getting stabbed by some freak in a mask." He moves so that he’s laying almost entirely on top of your body, his head rubbing against your chest through your sweatshirt. "Yeah doll, that’s kinda the point." You roll your eyes at him lovingly while shaking your head. "You're impossible." As he looks up at you, a smug grin spreads on his handsome face. "Love you too."
The movie marathon continues well into the evening. At some point his hands wander under the hem of your sweatshirt and settle just above your ribs, right below the swell of your breasts. You feel goosebumps start to rise all over your body as his hands move higher, cupping your breasts in his large hands. A small, breathy sigh leaves your lips as he takes your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, rolling them until they form hard peaks.
He looks up at you, an innocent smile gracing his lips, while tugging lightly on the hem, you nod, biting your lip and moving to take the hoodie the rest of the way off. Once your top half is bare, he looks down at you with lust filled eyes, pupils blown wide. “So perfect for me, baby” He leans down and without breaking eye contact, licks a stripe from the bottom of your breast until he reaches your nipple. Greedily, he takes it into his mouth and starts his process of sucking, biting, and licking all over, kneading the other with his hand, before switching to the other side, making sure to give both equal attention. You let out a low moan as he harshly sucks a mark onto your chest, he responds by rolling his hips into yours in a way that almost has you seeing stars.
You feel yourself growing wetter and more desperate each second that he grinds his achingly hard cock against your clothed core. He’s lets out a surprised noise when you grab his head and pull his mouth up to yours, no longer able to keep yourself from licking into his mouth. As you reach down between your bodies and begin to palm his bulge, Gator breaks away from your kiss to rasp against your lips. “I guess those scary movies got you all worked up too, that right?” You nod against his lips and move to pull your shorts and underwear off while he tears his shirt from over his head.
Before you can reach to start pulling his pants off too, he grabs you by the jaw and forces your mouth open. You know what he wants without having to say anything else, and god, you want it just as badly. He lets a string of spit fall from his mouth into yours, and lets out a filthy groan as you swallow it without hesitation. “You like that mama?” Your hand slips under the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers to find him rock hard and leaking precum from his tip. “Yeah, but not as much as you seemed to, baby.” You start to slowly stroke him from root to tip, smearing his precum along his length as you do so. He lets out a choked sound and then chuckles breathily, nodding down at you.
His fingers find their way to your dripping core, absolutely desperate for some friction and attention. Your cunt clenches around nothing as he slowly runs the tips of his fingers through your soaked folds. He hums against your mouth “Mmm so wet. This all for me?” Before roughly thrusting two of his fingers into your aching hole. A shaky moan is punched out of your lungs. The two of you stay like that for another minute, maybe two, just feeling each other and letting moans and sighs travel between your mouths.
As his fingers curl inside, he hits a spot in you that causes you to gasp against his lips. “Gator, I need you” That’s all it takes for him to pull his soaked fingers from you and slurp them clean, moving to prop your thighs open. He pushes into you in a single, rolling thrust, making pornographic moans fall from both of your mouths. Your breath catches in your throat as you adjust to his thick cock splitting you open.
The crappy slasher movie plays on, the killer finally making his big reveal, but it falls on unlistening ears and unseeing eyes. All you can see, hear, or feel is Gator above you, inside of you, murmuring filthy praises into your ear as he thrusts into you incessantly. He was right, you were so worked up that you’re reaching your end much faster than expected, and he can feel it. You wrap your legs tighter around his hips, forcing him to go in even deeper, hitting that spot that nobody and nothing else had ever reached. With each thrust, your moans and his groans are growing louder and louder, bouncing off the walls.
His thrusts start to grow faster and slightly erratic, and before you can do it, one of his hands reaches down and starts rubbing fast circles against your clit. “Come on baby, I want to see you cum on my cock.” His dirty words are the final push you needed to fall apart, as your walls clench and pulse around him you can feel him fighting off his orgasm. You reach up and take his face in your hands, your voice comes out breathy and broken up by moans as he helps you continue to ride out your orgasm. “Please Gator, I need you to fill me up baby” He lets out a ragged moan, kisses you roughly and immediately buries himself deep as your cunt milks his cock.
The two of you lay just like that a while, lazily kissing each other and basking in the afterglow. You break the kiss to look into his eyes. “I love you, Gator” He’s smiling down at you with that lovestruck look he gets sometimes, just in complete awe of you. “I love you with all I got. How’d a screw up like me get someone as perfect as you, huh?” You just shook your head at him with a soft smile and gave him one last kiss to his lips before he moved to pull out and settle behind you on the couch.
You feel completely content, you’re safe, happy, naked and warm in the arms of the man you love. Which is exactly why Gator decides to become a menace. The first prank happens around midnight. You pull Gator’s baggy sweatshirt back on and leave the living room to grab another drink.
When you return with a glass of water for yourself and a beer for Gator, all the lights are off. The television has gone dark, the house is utterly silent and still. "Very funny," you call out sarcastically. There’s no response.
You narrow your eyes in the darkness, but all you can make out is the empty couch with the blanket crumpled by the armrest and your clothes still scattered on the floor. "Gator." You drawl out his name in a warning tone, as a way to tell him ‘enough, I'm not playing this game’. But there’s still nothing. The hairs on the back of your neck raise as you feel a chill flow over your body. You know he's just messing with you. You know it. But the darkness still feels wrong, the stark silence feels wrong. You carefully step into the room, tiptoeing as if that will keep everything from slipping into chaos.
"Gator?" A hand reaches out and grabs your ankle from beneath the couch. You scream so loudly your own ears ring, your whole body jerks and somehow you manage not to spill either of the drinks in your hands. Gator bursts into a gasping, howling laughter. You immediately kick him, hard. "OW!" He shimmies out from under the couch, clad in his black boxers and socks. "You asshole!" He continues laughing while clutching his shoulder. "Oh my God, you should see your face." You glare at him with glassy eyes, still shaking from his little jumpscare. "I seriously hate you." He looks at you with a nearly sympathetic smile, still finding some humor in how scared you were. "You absolutely do not." And unfortunately, he's right. That only encourages him.
Over the next two weeks, Gator becomes increasingly creative and, in your opinion, very annoying. First a large plastic spider in your lunch bag, then a fake severed hand in the bathroom sink, complete with enough fake blood to fill the bathtub. The motion-activated skeleton hidden inside the closet scared you so badly, you swore your heart stopped in your chest. And every time you think you've survived the worst of it, another prank appears. You threaten murder, and he finds that hilarious.
One evening you come home after a grueling twelve-hour shift to discover a figure standing motionless in the hallway. You nearly have a heart attack, but then the figure begins laughing, and Gator removes the cheap Halloween mask. You throw a pillow at him, groaning in annoyance. "You fucker! What if I actually died?" He chuckles lowly at your wide eyed panic. "You didn't." If looks could kill, Gator would be six-feet under because of the glare you had fixed on him. "What if I did?" He shrugs, pulling off the mask fully and tossing it onto the table in the hall. "Then I'd feel real bad." You cross your arms over your chest and keep your glare fixed on his eyes. He pulls you against him and his laughter softens. "You'd haunt me." He plants a firm kiss to the crown of your head as you lean into his chest. "Damn right."
You meant it as a joke, but neither of you realize just how much those words will bother him later. By the second week of November, the pranks have become a little routine. It would almost be endearing if you didn’t find them so annoying and predictable. But you know Gator, you know the way he thinks and moves, and how he can’t stop himself from laughing before he can fully pull off the prank. You know every one of his stupid tricks, all of his ridiculous scare tactics. You’ve already seen every exaggerated attempt to make you scream.
So when the night arrives, your first instinct isn't fear, it's irritation. The double shift nearly kills you. The emergency department at Stark County Memorial Hospital is overflowing. You're already short-staffed, then someone calls out sick. Just when your night is starting to feel like it can’t get worse, a trauma patient arrives twenty minutes before your shift ends. Then another, then somehow another. By the time you've finally clocked out, the exhaustion has settled in you bone deep, like someone injected wet cement into your veins.
It is nearly midnight when you leave the hospital and make your way into the parking deck next door. Everyone on your shift had already left, making the section of the parking garage almost completely empty. Concrete pillars stretch into the shadows, and the flickering fluorescent lights buzz overhead. Your footsteps echo loudly through the desolate concrete structure, you pull your jacket tighter around yourself. All you want is sleep, food, and your big, warm boyfriend’s arms around you. Preferably all of those things, but not necessarily in that order.
Your car is parked on the fourth level of the parking deck. As you step off the elevator and walk in the direction of your car, you root through your purse to grab your keys, trying to make the process of getting home as fast as possible.
When you look up you stop walking, because a figure stands beside your vehicle. Motionless and waiting. Your eyes immediately narrow. "Oh come on, you've got to be kidding me." The figure doesn't move a muscle. The familiar black-and-white mask gleams beneath the overhead lights. Jack Skellington. The same stupid mask Gator bought weeks ago, the same mask he wore to scare you twice already. You bark out a sarcastic laugh, not because it's funny, but because it's ridiculous.
You pull out your phone and the figure remains completely still. The screen reflects your tired face as you go to call Gator, he answers on the second ring. "Hey, baby." You can hear the smile on his face, you roll your eyes and snort. "Real funny." There’s a long pause. "What?" Gator sounds confused and maybe just as tired as you are. "Seriously?" You’re growing annoyed and a little impatient. "What are you talking about?" He sounds even more lost than before.
You start walking toward your car, toward the figure. "You really followed me to work for this?" He sounds almost dumb in his confusion, like he really doesn't have a clue what you’re talking about. "Followed you?" Irritation seeps through your tone. "You know what? This isn't even scary anymore." He makes a dejected noise before scoffing confused into the phone. But the figure remains silent, completely still and watching. Your irritation grows. "I'm serious, Gator. That's creepy as fuck."
Gator sounds almost annoyed when he asks, "What is?"
"Take off that mask or I swear I'm not touching you for a week." Several seconds pass between the two of you. Then: "...What mask?" You come to a complete stop. Something about his tone feels wrong. Not playful or teasing, like he’s really genuinely confused. You laugh again, less confidently, nerves starting to seep in and cloud your mind. "Okay, enough."
Concern immediately fills the space that confusion was taking up in his voice. "Baby, what's going on?" You stare at the figure. The figure stares back. "You're in that damn Jack Skellington mask standing by my car." Silence, just a heavy, terrible silence. Then you hear Gator inhale sharply. "Baby..." The irritation immediately drains from your body, a strange chill replaces it. "Gator?" You can hear him sit up straighter in the seat of his patrol car. "That isn't me." You don't respond yet, you can’t, your body is paralyzed with fear.
The figure still hasn't moved, still hasn't spoken. Your pulse begins climbing and your mind begins racing. If that isn’t Gator by your car… "Gator?" His tone is deep and authoritative when he answers. "Go back inside the hospital." For a second, you think you’re imagining all of this, that somehow Gator’s pranks have reached your subconscious and this is all a bad dream you need to be woken up from. "What?" You can hear the sirens from his patrol car coming through the phone, the rev of his engine as he speeds to get to you. "Go. Now." A knot forms in your stomach, your blood runs cold in your veins. "What are you talking about?"
"Get back inside." His voice sounds different, it’s sharper, scared. "Gator–"
"Do not go near your car." The figure tilts its head, very slowly, like a predator locking in on its prey just before the hunt begins. The movement is unnatural, curious and animalistic. Every instinct in your body suddenly screams. Run, you need to run, you need to move. "Gator..."
"Listen to me." The panic in his voice is unmistakable now. "Go back into the hospital and don't leave until I come inside to get you." You slowly take a step backward. The figure takes one forward, matching the pace you’ve set. Your heart stops in your chest, your voice comes out small and afraid. "Gator–" A tear runs down your cheek before you can even register that you’ve started crying. "Run."
The figure lunges forward aggressively. Everything happens at once. You scream as the hand grabs your arm so tightly you’re sure there will be fingerprints left behind. You twist violently in the hold, managing to slip your arm through your sleeve. Concrete rushes beneath your feet. The scream of his name tears from your lungs violently. "GATOR!" His voice explodes back through the speaker. "BABY?!"
You fight, at least you try to. Your instincts takes over, trying to do anything to free yourself and get out of this situation. There aren’t many thoughts going through your mind just pure survival instincts. You drive your elbow backward, it connects with something solid. The figure grunts, it’s not a monster, not a ghost, just a person, a real person. Terror floods through your body alongside adrenaline. You manage to rip free and start running like your life depends on it, because it does. Footsteps thunder behind you, gaining on you, getting closer every second, faster with every breath that escapes you.
Your shoe catches on a patch of uneven concrete, and you stumble hard, ankle twisting unnaturally in the process. Pain erupts through your foot and your phone falls from your hand onto the concrete beneath you, it skids a few feet away. Your steps falter for just a second but it’s enough, a hand grabs your the back of your scrub shirt.
You scream again, a deep, desperate sound that echoes in the space around you. Somewhere through the chaos you hear Gator’s muffled voice shouting your name through the phone. Then nothing, the line dies. All you can hear are your own desperate sobs and the heavy breathing of the person attacking you from behind the mask. And your world suddenly goes dark.
Gator breaks nearly every traffic law on the way to the hospital. The drive feels like hours even if it was probably only five minutes, maybe even less. Every slow-moving vehicle becomes an obstacle, every turn becomes a setback.
He calls your phone repeatedly, but there’s no answer. Again. No answer. Again. Nothing.
The fear building inside him is unlike anything he has ever experienced. And Gator knows fear, he's spent his entire life around violence, surrounded by threats, surrounded by people who disappear, and people who can make other people disappear. But this is different, this is you, Gator’s girl. The person who somehow became the center of his universe, his everything. The person who turned a house into a home. The person who taught him what peace felt like. But now you're gone, whoever took you away from him took his peace, and it won’t come back until you’re safe in his arms again.
By the time he reaches the parking garage, his hands are shaking violently. He speeds through the floors so quickly that he nearly crashes into parked cars and concrete pillars. Level one. Level two. Level three. Level four. Then he sees it.
Your phone, completely shattered. Parts lying crushed across the concrete. For one terrible second his brain refuses to process what he's looking at. Until he sees your purse. The contents are scattered everywhere. Your keys, wallet, lip balm, even your hospital badge with your cute little smiling face in the center. All thrown haphazardly across the ground.
"GOD DAMMIT!" His voice echoes through the empty garage. There is no response and no movement. Nothing but his own voice bouncing back at him like a cruel taunt.
Then he notices something else, in his stupor he hadn’t seen it before. One shoe, lying on its side, your shoe. Sitting several feet away, abandoned. Like evidence, proof, or the remnants of something awful happening to the woman he loves. The sight nearly destroys him. He picks it up with trembling fingers and the parking garage suddenly feels enormous, endless, a silent void. It feels like there are threats looming in the shadows, every corner feeling like someone in lurking just behind it waiting to trap him. His chest tightens. Not because he doesn't know what happened to you, but because he does. Someone made a plan, watched, waited, and then took you from him. And now you're gone.
The realization settles like poison. Gator stares at your shoe. His jaw clenches. His breathing becomes erratic and uneven, starting to quickly spiral into a full blown panic.
Then he notices something painted on one of the concrete pillars nearby. A small black symbol, nearly hidden and drawn in fresh paint. It’s crooked smiling face. Jack Skellington. For a moment his entire world stops, because Gator knows that mask. What he had been treating as dumb jokes, little things to scare you. Someone had been watching the two of you, someone knew your routine.
A cold pang of horror and dread shoots down his spine. He knows the timing, knows the weeks of stupid pranks. This wasn't random at all, it wasn’t some insane coincidence. The sicko waiting for you by your car had chosen that mask on purpose, they wanted you to think it was just your boyfriend. They wanted you to lower your guard, come in closer, make it easier to capture you. It had worked, and it was all Gator’s fault. Gator feels sick, the guilt hits harder than fear. Harder than the anger. Because if he hadn't spent two weeks turning everything into a joke, scaring you just to have you jump into his arms for comfort afterwards…
If he hadn't made the masks and jump scares normal– Maybe you would have run immediately. Maybe you would have recognized the danger sooner. The thought nearly crushes him. "No." His voice is raw and broken. "No."
He closes his eyes.
For one brief second he sees your smile, hears your laugh, feels your hand slipping into his. And as quickly as the comfort of you came, the image disappears, and he’s back to the hellscape that is his new reality. Your sweet laughter is replaced by silence, your hand holding his is replaced by the emptiness between his clenched fingers, the image of you and the love he has for you is replaced by the unbearable emptiness of not knowing where you are.
Gator opens his eyes again. Something has changed within him, the panic and fear remains, but beneath it sits something colder, something much sharper, much more dangerous. Determination. The person who took you made one mistake, they left you alive long enough to fight, long enough to scream, long enough to leave evidence for Gator.
And that means they must still be out there. Still breathing your air somewhere, still walking around thinking they might have gotten away with it. They are wrong. Gator stares into the darkness of the parking garage and his grip tightens around your shoe. For the first time all night, his expression becomes completely emotionless. The kind of expression people fear instinctually, it’s the kind of expression that appears when something inside him shuts off.
"Please be okay."
His words are a desperate plea to the universe and the words disappear into the darkness and no answer comes back. Only the buzzing of the flickering fluorescent lights overhead, only empty concrete, only that heavy silence.
But somewhere beyond the garage walls, beyond the city lights, beyond the reach of anyone searching for you, someone is holding their breath. Because they have no idea what they've just started. Gator would go to hell and back to have you safe in his arms again.
you don’t realize how important lunch is until you’re wandering around thinking about how unloveable and untalented and uniquely cursed you are and then it’s 4pm and you finally eat lunch and you go Oh. oh right.
lot of people commenting on this post like "who eats lunch at 4pm that's a terrible time to eat lunch" yes. that is the point. 4pm lunch is inadvisable. 4pm lunch is not the ideal. 4pm lunch makes the mind demons real.
Ghost who doesn’t know how to flirt like a normal person, instead asks “How much d’you weigh?”
Shadow falling over you, broad enough to swallow the reflection in the mirror behind the machine you were just using at the gym. You look up and find Ghost standing there in a black compression shirt stretched tight across his chest, mask in place even here, eyes flat and unreadable above the fabric. One gloved hand resting on the frame of your machine.
The question lands blunt, no lead up, no softening. Like he’s asking for the time or the weather. Your mouth goes dry. He’s too close, too big, the sheer width of him making the space between you feel airless.
You could tell him to fuck off. Should. But the words stick somewhere behind your teeth, and what comes out instead is a mumbled number, barely loud enough to carry, your eyes dropping to the seam where the mat meets the floor.
He doesn’t react at first. Just tilts his head a fraction, that slow, assessing cock of it Then, low and rough through the mask: “Lighter than I’m used to.”
Confusion flickers across your face but he’s already moving, already loading the bar next to you with plates that match the number you gave him exactly, no hesitation, no adjustment. The barbell settles across the padded support with a dull clank.
You should look away. You don’t.
He lies back on the bench, plants his feet wide, and rolls the bar into place across the jut of his hips. One smooth motion and he drives up, hips snapping high, the loaded bar rising clean with the power of it, his body locking into a straight line from shoulders to knees. The muscles in his thighs flex hard under the fabric of his shorts. Up, hold, lower. Up again. The bar doesn’t even tremble under the weight.
It takes a beat for the meaning to sink in. Heat crawls up your neck, tightens in your chest, but it doesn’t stop there. It drops lower, coils hot and insistent right behind your navel and settles between your legs with a heavy, liquid pulse, cunt clenching around nothing. The reaction is immediate and traitorous, slick gathering hot and fast, soaking into the seam of your leggings, clit throbbing in time with every snap of his hips.
Oh.
(Ghost who doesn’t know how to flirt but somehow it works every time.)
I've found myself struggling to read as of late. Though I'm chalking it up to a short attention span of interest. That being said- I found a short mind fuck that deserved to be shared!
'I Wanted This' by A_Gust
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Remember- if you enjoy the story, give the author some love!
You are a mystery detective that solves fake monster crimes. When you finally meet real monsters, they reward you for being their most trusted agent against identity crimes
