#I need to not go into tags but fine I’ll tag it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mrprettywhenhecries · 2 days

Text

don’t waste your time (on me) [g.t]

07. | Anything You Say Can and Will Be Held Against You (So Only Say My Name)

Gator Tillman ✘ Win Lewis (OC)

⇾ w.c. 6.2k words ⇾ tags/warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, misogynistic themes, death/blood, Roy being an asshole, cnc (consensual noncon), role play, rough sex, p in v, unprotected sex, dom!gator, spanking, pussy slapping, knife play, handcuffs, ownership kink ⇾ a/n. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💚

After Munch kills his partner and Gator gets a dressing down from Roy, he desperately needs to let off some steam and feel like a winner. Luckily, Win is only too happy to oblige.

[ masterlist • win bio ]

Gator’s watch buzzed on his wrist and he stirred, groaning as he lifted his head from Win’s lap. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the events from earlier had left him more exhausted than he’d realized, and Win’s lap and the way she ran her fingers through his hair after she’d sucked his soul through his dick was so comforting, he’d drifted off almost instantly.

The tv played softly in the background, but it seemed Win had fallen asleep as well, and Gator got up slowly, careful not to jostle her awake. She looked so soft in her sleep, so vulnerable. He still couldn’t quite believe she was his, that he got to see her like this – especially with how hostile she’d been when they first met, but it was that fiery personality that’d only made him want her more.

“Where’re you going?” she mumbled, stirring as Gator stood, adjusting his cargo pants and snug black t-shirt.

“Gotta head to work,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss the top of her head and she groaned, her lip pushing out in a pout.

“Do you have to?” she whined, her voice still heavy with sleep. “Can’t you take the night off, since you’re injured?”

Gator frowned, he wished he could simply stay home with her, but he knew if he did, Roy wouldn’t be pleased and he didn’t want to look like a pussy that needed to be babied.

“I’m fine, ‘sides, I have a responsibility,” he insisted before softening once more. “I’ll text you later,” he said, stealing one more kiss before shrugging on his tactical vest and bending to tie up his boots.

“Be safe!” Win called after him, stretching out on the couch and pulling a blanket over her.

Outside, Gator walked to the end of the drive and leaned against Win’s Chevelle to wait for Deputy Nugent to come pick him up. Bringing his vape to his lips, he took a long drag, savouring the sweet taste on his tongue before blowing the vapour out, the white cloud hanging in the cool evening air for a moment before dissipating.

Soon Gator’d need to start wearing his cold weather gear. The forecast for Halloween said snow, only a few days away.

Gator wriggled his fingers under the cast and grimaced, his jaw clenching at the pang of pain that raced up his arm and soon returned to a dull ache. He took another drag off his vape, hoping the nicotine would dull his nerves. Now that he didn’t have Win distracting him his thoughts returned to Ole Munch, the fucker who’d busted his wrist and gotten away. For a moment he wondered where the skirt wearing freak would have gone. Hopefully, into the wind and out of their hair, but he fought the urge to look over his shoulder, worry prickling in his gut that the strange man might come for revenge.

If he was smart, he’d move on.

It stung, the fact that he’d managed to turn the tables on him so easily, and Gator still couldn’t banish the memory of his dad’s expression as he stood over him, Gator holding his useless arm to his chest, tears streaming down his face and the contents of his stomach still coming up–disgusted, but not surprised.

If he ever got his hands on Munch, he’d make the man wish he’d never been born.

Nugent’s police truck pulling up to the curb in front of him tore Gator from his thoughts and he pocketed his vape and pushed off Win’s car to climb in the passenger seat.

“Where’s your cruiser?” the other deputy asked, and Gator glowered at him, awkwardly buckling his seat belt.

“At home. Win picked me up from the hospital,” he explained with a grunt and Nugent nodded, his eyes falling to Gator’s cast. Noticing Win’s doodles, he let out an amused snort.

“Property of Win, huh? Jesus, Gator, you’re so fuckin’ whipped.”

Gator’s brows pinched and he fought the urge to hide his cast. “No I ain’t, shut the fuck up,” he huffed, adjusting the brim of his hat and scooting down further in his seat.

“She must be a damn good lay for you to put up with the rest of her,” Nugent chuckled, turning his eyes back to the road.

“I ain’t putting up with her,” Gator muttered sullenly, turning prickly. “You’re just jealous cause she’s hotter than your fiance,” he drawled, earning him a hard look from the other man.

“Careful.”

“You fuckin’ started it,” Gator replied and Nugent didn’t respond, knowing Gator had a point.

“Seriously though, you can’t really be serious ‘bout her, are you? You know Roy’d never allow it.”

Gator tensed, grabbing his vape and taking an angry puff. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, but I don’t see how it’s any of your fuckin’ business,” he snapped. “Don’t we got work to do?” he added, hoping to steer the conversation away from his relationship. He didn’t need any more reminders about how his dad felt about Win.

“Someone’s in a mood,” Nugent murmured, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Yeah well, let’s see how cheery you’d be with a busted wrist,” Gator muttered, glancing out the window. “Turn off here, I gotta take a piss,” he said, nodding toward the lone filling station up ahead.

Nugent parked and climbed out as well to top off the tank while Gator headed inside, some asshole nearly hitting his bad arm with the door as he pushed it open. Already in a pissy mood, Gator hastily stepped back out of the way, raising his cast and giving the guy a dirty look before stepping past him and into the convenience store.

Half the building’s front windows had been busted out in a recent shoot out, just the day before, and the gaping holes had been covered with sheets of plywood and plastic til they could be replaced.

Gator glanced around before heading back to the men’s room and stepping up to the urinal, freeing himself to take a leak. The stall closest to the wall had caution tape across the door and Gator peered inside as he zipped his trousers back up, noting the busted toilet where one of the assailants had fallen and cracked open his skull.

Gator wet his lips. He’d been the one to hire the man.

Not that he could really find it in himself to feel all that bad for his fate. No, it was the woman who’d killed him that weighed on his mind.

At one point Gator had thought he’d never see Nadine again, not after she left–disappeared one day, just like his mom, just like she’d swore she’d never do.

Gator left the bathroom and ambled to the drink coolers at the back, picking out a bottle of Mtn Dew and grabbing a bag of spicy jerky on the way to the counter to pay, drumming his fingers impatiently as he waited for his card to go through.

“You got the security tapes from last night?” he asked idly, glancing up toward the camera facing him high up on the wall behind the counter.

The attendant glanced back over his shoulder at where Gator was looking and shook his head. “Nah, I think some other cops took the whole system already.”

Gator nodded, grabbing his snacks. Back in the truck, he leaned back in his seat to wait for Nugent, taking a bite of jerky and washing it down with a swig of pop.

“What the hell’s takin’ ‘im so long?” he muttered under his breath, only to jerk back in alarm when he caught sight of Nugent’s lifeless body on the pavement near the back of the truck, a large hunting knife buried in his chest.

“Oh shit–” Gator swore, hastily reaching for his service pistol as he reluctantly climbed out of the truck, his head on a swivel as he rounded the vehicle–afraid that whoever had killed Nugent was still there, waiting to take him out as well.

Shuffling nervously toward his partner’s body, Gator took a shuddering breath, his stomach turning at the dark growing pool at his feet. Careful not to step in it, he peered down at Nugent and frowned. Pinned to his chest by the knife was a message scrawled on a piece of used cardboard.

You owe me.

Munch.

Gator let out the breath he’d been holding and holstered his gun, instead pulling out his phone. Roy wouldn’t be happy about this, but they needed to get it cleaned up and he couldn’t exactly call it out over the radio.

“Yeah?”

Gator sucked air through his teeth at his dad’s brusque greeting, steeling himself.

“Nugent’s dead. Munch got him.”

There was a long pause, followed by a heavy sigh. “Where are you?”

“The Revere filling station outside of Beulah.”

“Stay there. I’ll be there shortly.”

The line clicked and Gator glanced around. Luckily, the area was pretty well deserted, but he couldn’t leave Nugent’s body just laying there in case anyone saw it. While he waited for Roy to arrive, he set to work hauling Nugent into the truck bed and covering him with a tarp before finding a hose around the side of the building to wash the blood away.

When his father’s truck pulled up, Gator jumped down from the truck cab where he’d been waiting, having pulled around behind the building and mostly out of sight.

“Called you directly. Didn’t want this goin’ out on the wire. Didn’t know what to do with him, so I put him in the back.”

“And where were you?” Roy asked, lifting the tarp covering Nugent’s body.

Gator shifted on his feet, glancing away. “I was drainin’ the snake, two minutes, in and out.”

Roy sighed, dropping the tarp and planting his hands on his hips. “Did you get a look at the tape?”

Gator shook his head. “State cops took the whole system last night on account of the other thing,” he explained before letting out a scoff and copying his father’s posture. “Can you believe this guy? Comin’ back to the scene of the crime? Doin’ that?” he said, gesturing to Nugent’s body. “Talk about big balls.”

“Yeah well, I bet yours shriveled up a little bit on account of him gettin’ the jump on ya… again,” Roy countered, giving Gator a hard look, disappointment radiating off him.

Gator glanced at Roy, realizing he was right before yanking his hat from his head in frustration, smacking against his leg angrily. “Son of a bitch!” he growled, carrying on for a moment before his dad rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed at the outburst.

“Alright, are ya done?”

Gator heaved a breath, his jaw flexing as he fought to wrangle his temper, turning back to his father and slipping his hat back on his head.

“Tell me again where you found this… Munch guy? Is that really his name, Ole Munch?” Roy asked and Gator shrugged, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably.

“He says it… Oola,” he explained. “A-and I didn’t find him, I found his partner.”

“What, the guy with his head in the toilet?”

Gator nodded.

“Alright well… first order of business, we need information. Find out who this guy is. Priors, known accomplices, known hangouts. Then we smoke him loose,” Roy sighed.

“If he comes for us again–”

“Oh believe me, he’s coming. Sleep with your hammer cocked, is my opinion, if you sleep at all,” Roy interrupted, shaking his head before returning to business. “Alright, the truck goes in a ditch, Nugent behind the wheel, report the cause of death as accidental. Then you go to his fiance’s and break the news.”

Gator nodded. “What’re you gunna do?”

“Don’t worry about what I’m gunna do, alright?” Roy grunted, pointing at him. “You’re oh for two here, kid. How do I teach ya to be a winner you keep losin’ all the time?”

At his father’s words, Gator’s face fell. “I swear to God, him versus me, man to man, I’d wipe the floor with him,” he insisted.

Roy snorted. “Yeah right. Like high noon? Yeah, that only happens in the movies, son. Real life, they’ll slit your throat while you waiting for the light to change,” he muttered, clapping Gator on the shoulder before turning away, leaving him to clean up the mess.

As soon as the Sheriff was gone, Gator pulled his phone from his pocket, shooting off a text to Win. As much as he’d wanted to return to her bed after his shift, it seemed he’d have to wait. Besides, if his father was right about Munch coming after them, maybe it was better if he didn’t put Win in harm’s way for the moment.

Win grabbed a clean bar towel to wipe down the counter, only half paying attention to the mostly empty room. It was still pretty early on a weeknight and Frankie’s only really bustled on the weekends.

“Okay, who wants to be the one to tell the creep in the corner to order something or get out?” Lydia asked, pulling Win from her thoughts and she turned to where her friend had glanced moments ago.

Sure enough, sitting alone at a small table in the far corner of the room was a man Win had never seen before, and she knew all the weekday regulars.

“How long has he been there?” Beau asked, leaning through the kitchen pick up window.

“Nearly an hour,” Lydia answered with a frown.

“He’s just been sitting there?”

“Yeah, staring at Win.”

“Wait, what?” Win asked, her head snapping toward the others.

“Yeah, I’m sure. You haven’t noticed?” Lydia murmured. “Do you know him?”

Win turned back toward the stranger, a shiver racing up her back when she found him watching her, his hard gaze unwavering.

“No, never seen him before.”

“Should I call Frankie?” Lydia asked hesitantly, fidgeting nervously and Win sighed, shaking her head.

“It’s okay, I’ll go talk to him, see what the fuck he wants from me.”

“You sure?” Beau asked at the same time Lydia urged her to be careful.

Win nodded to her friends as she rounded the bar and made her way toward the man’s table. Heading closer, she got a better look at him, tucking the details away in case she’d need to recount them to the police later–though he seemed placid enough for the moment.

As she approached, the man’s eyes narrowed, regarding her stoically, his weathered face giving nothing away.

“Hey,” she called, planting her hands on her hips as she stopped several paces in front of him. “I’m gunna hafta ask you to order something, or you’ll hafta leave.”

The man barely reacted, his large mouth twitching downward as his gnarled hands balled into fists atop his knees. Win noticed beneath his fur lined coat, he seemed to be wearing a pleated wool kilt with leggings and heavy leather boots–not something many locals would wear–and his hair was an unusual cut.

“C’mon man, don’t make this hard on me. I don’t really wanna hafta call the cops,” Win said, holding her breath, ready to jump back if need be, but the man merely nodded slowly, ducking his head, and Win had to stifle a gasp at the large gash sliced through his ear.

“A man can drink,” he finally spoke, a strange cadence to his heavily accented speech.

“Good,” Win sighed, letting out the breath she’d been holding. “What should I bring you?”

The man seemed to think for a moment. “ A man will drink… whatever is cheapest.”

Win huffed in amusement. “I’ll be right back.”

“What’d he say?” Lydia asked as soon as Win returned to the bar, pulling out a bottle of Natty Lite and popping off the cap.

“He ordered the cheapest beer,” she laughed, wiping down the bottle with the towel draped over her shoulder. “Guess he doesn’t want any trouble. Kinda weird though,” she mused, but Lydia frowned, looking doubtful.

“But then why’s he been staring at you? I still say he’s creepy.”

“Maybe he’s got a crush,” Beau laughed, and Win swatted at his head before heading back to the man’s table with his drink.

“Here you go,” she said, holding it out for him. For a long moment, he merely stared at it before accepting it, holding the bottle awkwardly as if he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Win watched him for a moment before turning to head back to the bar, shaking her head as she went, but she only made it a few steps before turning back to him, unable to curb her curiosity any longer.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

The man lifted his gaze to her face, studying her for a second before answering.

“A man is… far from his home. He has not seen it in many… decades.”

Win nodded slowly.

“I feel that, though I think you’re a little farther from home than I am, mister,” she murmured, planting her hands on her hips. “You in town for a while, or just passing through?”

Again, the man deliberated his words carefully before answering. “A man must stay… longer than he intended. Circumstances outside of his control have… waylaid him. Complications he did not foresee. Complications that must be… dealt with before he can move on.”

Win nodded. She didn’t quite understand the stranger’s cryptic answer, but she got the jist of it. “Kinda sounds like how I ended up here,” she murmured, noticing he hadn’t yet taken a drink.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, wetting her lips, and the man tilted his head as if listening, waiting for her question.

“You got a name? You keep referring to yourself in the third person.”

The man’s lips twitched downward. “A man’s name is irrelevant,” he muttered sharply, studying Win before heaving a breath, his expression softening. “But perhaps… a girl could know it. Long before a man arrived on this soil, he was called Oola, Oola Moonk,” he answered, a preciseness to the way he formed the words and Win nodded.

“Alright then, Oola. Can you tell me why you’ve been staring at me since you came in?”

At Win’s question, Munch hesitated, glancing down at the bottle clasped between his hands.

“One learns many things by observing. A man needed to observe. To learn,” he explained and Win’s brows furrowed.

“And what were you hoping to learn?” she asked, an edge creeping into her voice.

Munch shook his head. “A girl is not what a man expected,” he mumbled, more to himself than her.

“What did you expect?” Win scoffed, but Munch merely stood, looming over her as he set his untouched drink on the table along with a couple crumpled bills.

“The man bids the girl goodnight,” he said, stepping around her and heading to the exit, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and bringing it to his lips.

“The fuck was that about?” Win muttered as she watched him disappear, more confused than ever. Grabbing the beer, she brought it to her lips, so as not to let it go to waste when her phone vibrated in her back pocket.

🐊🖤: You off soon?

‘Yeah, in ten, everything okay?’ she responded, a spike of worry flaring in her chest.

🐊🖤: Shitty day. Need to let off some steam. You game? ⛓️

Win let out the breath she’d been holding at his response, and her lips twitched as she typed a reply.

“Bring it on.”

“Open up, police!”

Gator’s hard voice echoed through the door, followed by his telltale pounding and Win took her time heading to the door, splashing some water on her face at the kitchen sink before answering.

“What seems to be the problem, Deputy?” she asked as she opened the door a crack, her breath catching at the sight of Gator’s face, a fierceness to his gaze that gripped her, holding her in place.

Gator didn’t answer, instead forcing the door open and pushing his way inside before kicking it shut behind him.

“There’s a warrant out for your arrest, Lewis, and I’ve been authorized to use any force necessary,” he drawled, his hands resting on his hips as he looked her up and down, his gaze taking in her bare legs and oversized t-shirt that hung from her frame, and he wet his lips, his eyes finding hers.

“Now, are you gunna come quietly, or you gunna make us do this the hard way?” he asked and Win swallowed, arousal flooding her at the arrogant tone of his voice.

“What do you think?” she countered, taking off in the opposite direction, toward the kitchen.

“I love a good chase,” Gator growled, easily overtaking her and forcing her against the wall, pulling his handcuffs from his belt to cinch around her wrists, trapped behind her back.

“Fuck you, pig,” Win hissed, spitting in his face as he turned her around, and Gator’s lips twitched downward, scowling as he wiped the glob of saliva from his cheek.

“Feisty, huh? I like that,” he grunted, his gaze trailing her defiant expression. “Didn’t your daddy teach ya any manners?” he drawled, lip curling into a sneer. When Win didn’t respond, he pressed her tighter against the wall, one large hand circling her throat, the tip of his nose brushing the shell of her ear as he leaned in. “Guess I’ll have to.”

Moments later, Gator’s lips crashed into hers, tongue forcing its way into her mouth and she kissed him back just as hard, stealing his breath before biting down on his tongue.

“Ow! Fuckin’ bitch—“ he hissed, jerking back. “You’re just askin’ for it, ain’tcha?”

For a moment, however, Gator hesitated, his grasp loosening around her neck and he swallowed, his lips parting as worry flashed in his eyes.

Noticing the way his expression faltered, Win locked eyes with him. “Green,” she breathed hoarsely, her breath shaking. “Keep going. Use me, Gator.”

A groan caught in his throat at her words, his cock growing impossibly harder. Picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder, he carried her to the bedroom and dropped her unceremoniously to the bed, grabbing her legs and pulling her roughly toward the edge.

“Think you’re a little overdressed for what I’m gunna do to you,” he drawled, pulling his pocket knife from his tactical vest before shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Flipping open the knife, he knelt atop the bed, one knee between Win’s legs, and as soon as she saw the blade, a small gasp left her throat and she began to struggle, fruitlessly trying to scoot away from him, but Gator merely clicked his tongue and leaned over her, bringing the knife up to her face and running the dull edge down her cheek.

“Quit squirmin’, unless you want me to cut you,” he chuckled darkly, the knife hovering over her skin as it moved down the line of her throat to her collarbone. Pushing her shirt up, Gator groaned, finding her tits bare beneath, and he pressed the flat side of the blade to her nipple, watching it harden against the cool metal.

Wetting his lips, he moved to her other breast, tracing her hardened bud with the knife before leaning over her to take it into his mouth, his tongue echoing the blade’s path before flicking against her, playing with the piercing that adorned her pert nipple.

“Hope you’re not too attached to this underwear,” he grunted, dragging the knife down her stomach, past her navel, and catching on the edge of her panties.

“Fuck you—“ Win hissed, but Gator’s teeth flashed in the darkness, sending a shiver through her.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to,” he drawled, and with a yank of the knife, he cut through the fabric covering her cunt, pausing to marvel at it before folding the knife up and slipping it in his pocket.

Drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, he spread her folds with his fingers before pushing them into her, scissoring them inside her tight heat.

“Look how fuckin’ wet you are,” Gator said with a sneer, pulling his hand away to show her his fingers, shining with the residue of her slick, a translucent string connecting his digits as he parted them. “Such a dirty little thing, gettin’ turned on by that,” he taunted, holding his fingers in front of her face.

“Suck ‘em clean, whore,” he instructed.

When Win didn’t obey, his dark eyes flashed, and without warning he brought his palm down against her pussy with a sharp slap, making her gasp, her body jumping at the shock.

“I said, suck,” he repeated and this time she dutifully opened her mouth, wrapping her lips around his fingers and hollowing out her cheeks to suck, a whimper echoing in her throat.

“That’s more like it,” Gator growled, his hands going to her waist, flipping her suddenly, so she was on her knees, her cheek pressed into the blankets. Leaning over her, he reached into his pocket once more and Win wondered if he was getting the knife back out, until she heard the cuffs unlatch and she knew what Gator wanted to do.

“Thought I should get a chance to cuff you to the bed, sweetheart,” he chuckled, yanking her arms above her head to string the handcuff chain between the bars of her headboard before closing the cool mental back around her wrist, locking her in place so she couldn’t get away.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ sight,” he breathed, slapping her exposed ass with his good hand, his palm connecting with a loud crack, leaving her skin stinging.

Win let out a cry, giving a jolt, her hands clenching around the bars she was restrained against. Behind her, Gator hastily unbuckled his belt and unzipped his cargo pants, freeing his throbbing cock and giving it a couple quick strokes before bullying his tip between her dripping folds. For a moment, he pressed into her slowly, his breath hitching as he watched her suck him in, her velveteen walls contracting tightly around him as he disappeared inch by inch into her tight heat.

Growing impatient, Gator made several shallow thrusts before snapping the rest of the way into her, barely giving her time to fully adjust to his size, and forcing another sharp gasp from her lips.

“Oh c’mon, you can take it, bitch,” he grunted, smirking at the way her body jerked with each rough thrust, the slap of skin on skin and the lewd squelch of her cunt filling the room, competing only with Gator’s heavy breaths and Win’s whimpered moans, until the bed began to thump rhythmically against the wall.

“That’s it,” he growled, his good hand tangling in her hair, yanking her head back as his fingers dug into the fat of her hip, his cast making it awkward to hold onto her as he rammed into her, her tits jiggling with each rut of his hips. “So fuckin’ tight. Whose cunt is this?”

“Y-yours,” Win gasped, her eyes rolling up into her head as Gator’s cock dragged against her g-spot, sending electricity coursing through her, her pleasure building til her head swam, forcing any other thought from her mind.

“That’s fuckin’ right, babe,” he hissed, growing close, his thrusts turning jerky and desperate.

Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, he fought not to cum before he felt Win tense, clenching impossibly tighter around him, her body nearly giving out beneath her as she cried out, Gator’s hold on her and the handcuffs the only thing keeping her upright before he finally emptied himself inside her, going rigid before collapsing over her.

For a long moment, Gator didn’t move, his forehead pressed between Win’s shoulder blades, his breaths coming in heavy pants as he calmed himself, his cock softening inside her.

“Gator? Can you… uncuff me? I can’t feel my hands,” she groaned and he gave a start, quickly straightening and pulling out of her, only allowing himself a second to marvel at the way his spend seeped lazily from her fluttering hole.

“I gotcha,” he mumbled, shoving his hand in his pocket to retrieve the key and unlocking the cuffs, loosening them from her bruised wrists.

As soon as she was free, Win let out a soft sob and collapsed to the bed, the sound wrenching at Gator’s heart.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he exclaimed, hovering anxiously, not really knowing what to do.

“I’m fine, just a little sore,” Win assured him, her voice cracking. “Can you… can you hold me?” she asked, lifting her face to look at him, a vulnerability to her that made Gator want nothing more than to protect her.

“Course, just a sec,” he breathed, hurriedly undressing the rest of the way and crawling atop the bed to pull her into his arms, his chest aching as she instinctively buried her face in the crook of his neck. Pressing his lips to the top of her head, Gator rubbed her back, coaxing her tense muscles to relax.

“Did something happen?” Win murmured, her voice muffled somewhat by the way she nuzzled against him and Gator tensed at the question.

“What do you mean?”

Win shifted, lifting her face to look at him. “I mean, not that I’m complaining, but did something happen to spur this on?” she asked, burying her fingers in the thick dark patch of hair on his chest.

“Oh,” Gator breathed, shaking his head as a heavy sigh rattled through him and his hold on her tightened as he thought of a way to word what had happened the night before without making her worry further. “I uh, I fucked up at work, disappointed Dad,” he mumbled, his stomach dropping as Roy’s words replayed through his head.

“How do I teach ya to be a winner, you keep losin’ all the time?” he repeated with a scowl.

“The fuck does he know?” Win scoffed, prickling with anger as she pushed herself up to look Gator in the eye.

“You’re a winner,” she breathed, her lips pressing to his jaw before moving to his cheek. “You’re my winner,” she echoed, kissing the shell of his ear.

“You’re my fuckin’ winner,” she whispered fiercely before her mouth found his and Gator let out a groan.

“Winnie—“

She hummed, continuing to press soft kisses to his face and neck.

“How are you so perfect?”

Win finally pulled back, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “I’m not.”

Gator shook his head, looking down at her. “You are to me.”

“Maybe you just deserve to be treated better than you have been,” she said, stroking his cheek as she laid back down, resting her face against his shoulder.

“Yeah, maybe,” Gator murmured, growing quiet.

After several minutes Win began to wonder if he’d already drifted off, silence filling her bedroom until he suddenly spoke, shifting beneath her.

“Why’d you leave Chicago?”

Win sighed. She’d been waiting for him to bring it up ever since their dinner at the ranch.

“Too many memories,” she murmured, shutting her eyes and trying to focus only on him – the beat of his heart beneath her ear, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath he took, the warmth of his skin against hers.

“Bad memories?”

Win shook her head, breathing deep. “Some bad, but mostly good memories turned bitter,” she explained.

“What happened?” Gator asked, the fingers of his good hand tracing idle shapes against her back.

“My mom died when I was fourteen, and about six months later my dad was already engaged to someone else. I don’t know for sure, but I think he must have been having an affair with her while my mom was dying,” Win murmured, wincing at the thought.

“So when they got married, we moved into her house and as soon as we got there, she dropped any pretense that she wanted anything to do with me, and her daughter, Delilah, treated me like absolute shit. It was like she took joy in going out of her way to hurt me. It was a fucking cliche, like right out of some stupid fucking fairy tale,” she scoffed, brows furrowing at the memory.

“And the worst part was, half the time my dad was fucking clueless to it and the other half, he didn’t have the balls to actually stand up for me. So, when I turned eighteen, I left–moved in with some friends, couch surfed sometimes, had some bad relationships I stayed in even when I shoulda got out, all to stay out of that fucking house,” she explained, deflating, her voice wavering.

“So, uhm, now all those good memories I had with my mom and even my dad before she died, they’re all overshadowed by that bullshit,” she finished, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a shuddering breath.

Gator frowned, squeezing Win tighter to his side. “I’ll arrest ‘em if you want. All three of ‘em,” he offered, half serious, but it made Win smile, wrinkling her nose in amusement.

“I think that’s a little out of your jurisdiction, Deputy,” she teased, propping her chin against his chest, her eyes finding his.

“Hey, I’m the law, remember, sweetheart?” he said, his lips twisting in a lazy smirk.

“How could I forget?” Win chuckled, her chest feeling lighter. “Okay, now it’s your turn,” she said, scooting closer, her forehead resting against Gator’s stubbled cheek.

“My turn for what?” he asked, his voice growing heavy with exhaustion.

“To tell me something,” she answered, tracing the dip of his collarbone.

“What kind of something? Like a secret?”

“Mhmm,” Win hummed, her eyes fluttering shut.

“A secret, huh?” Gator mused, thinking. “Okay, I’ve got one. You know that time you blew me to get out of a ticket?” he asked and Win frowned hesitantly.

“Uh huh–” she breathed.

“Well, I may have fibbed a little about turning my dash cam off,” he admitted, bracing himself.

Win’s mouth fell open and she pushed herself upright. “Gator!” she yelped, gaping at him. “You fuckin’ liar!” she gasped, swatting at his chest, though she didn’t know why she was surprised.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself!” he exclaimed, holding up his hands against her half hearted attack, trying not to laugh at the scandalized expression on her face.

“Please at least tell me no one else has seen it!”

“Just me, I swear!” Gator insisted. “I have the only copy,” he assured her, and Win calmed somewhat, though she wasn’t exactly mad at him.

“You better not be lying this time, Tillman,” she huffed, jabbing a finger in his face.

“Cross my heart,” he replied, making an X motion over his chest and Win rolled her eyes, though a small smile played at her lips.

“You jerk off to it?” she asked, letting him pull her back down to the bed with him.

“More times than I can count. I love seein’ you on your knees for me,” he drawled, grinning smugly when a thought occurred to him. “Did you enjoy it? That first time?” he asked, sobering slightly, and Win hid her face against his chest, feeling warm.

“I might’ve,” she admitted, clearing her throat. “I thought you were a prick back then, but I couldn’t exactly deny you had a nice cock.”

Gator beamed at her praise, his smirk returning as Win settled into his arms, stifling a yawn that set Gator’s jaw cracking as well.

“I didn’t get to ask earlier, but how was your day?” he asked through his yawn, curling around her.

Win hummed as she thought back over what had happened, fighting the haze of exhaustion that tugged at her.

“Mmm, it was alright, nothing too special, oh wait–” she said, remembering the strange man that had come into the bar, Moonk.

“There was this weird guy at work, though–foreign or something–wore a kilt and talked in the third person,” she murmured, not noticing Gator tense beside her.

“He say anything to you?” Gator demanded and the edge to his question finally alerted Win that something was off.

“I mean, a little. It was like he was speaking in riddles though, it didn’t really make a lot of sense. Mostly he just stared at me across the room–”

“Win, if he ever comes in again, or you see him somewhere, you need to call to me right away, and stay the fuck away from him,” Gator exclaimed, cutting her off and it was Win’s turn to tense, the alarm in Gator’s voice chilling her.

“You know him? Is he dangerous?” she asked and Gator grimaced, realizing he’d have to tell her more than he wanted to.

“He… he’s wanted for… home invasion, kidnapping, and assault,” he listed, trying not to stray too far from the truth, but also not wanting to alarm Win any further, or reveal how he really knew Munch.

“Oh shit,” Win breathed. “I bet that’s how he got that gash in his ear,” she mused.

“Just promise me you’ll call me if you see him again,” Gator repeated, unconsciously holding her tighter, as if that were enough to protect her.

“I promise,” Win assured him, squeezing him back, though she couldn’t help but feel there was something he wasn’t telling her.

“Good,” Gator breathed, burying his face in her hair.

Cause if he touches you, he’s a dead man.

⇾ taglist. @sailorskunk, @heartbreak-sandwich, @super-unpredictable98, @tangerinesteve, @girlwiththerubyslippers, @cycat4077 , @thecreelhouse

#gator tillman #gator tillman x oc #fargo #fargo season 5 #fargo fx #gator tillman fanfiction #oc: win lewis #otp: wingator #fic: don't waste your time on me #joz.fic

25 notes · View notes

bitchsister · 2 days

Note

can we maybe get curt cockwarming bucky,, but he’s just unable to sit still and is being all bratty about it since he wants to get off but bucky won’t let him 👀

This is not the one and only cockwarming ask I’ve gotten! And anon, while there is some gentle kinda cockwarming in this… there’s a lot more happening too…. Because like I’ve said before. I need a muzzle.

(I kinda just did whatever I wanted.)

Top punk baby princess Curtie in this.

Bye

This has been very sloppily edited. It’s pure smut and filth if there’s any weird errors just ignore them and love me for my flaws.

I blame @swifty-fox for a lot of what is in this. But also I blame myself for being the one to write it. 🫶🏼

Look at their beautiful art for our baby Punk Princess Curtie!!

Here’s their art tag. They spoil me daily 🩷

☣️THIS PARTICULAR DRABBLE IS LONG AS ALL FUCKIN HELL AND IS A MESS. ☣️

Because there was no specifications made, this is yet another addition to our Lucky Charms AU!

If you’re not LOCKED IN for THESE THINGS, do not read : Curt and Rosie arguments, injuries and mentions of blood, lowkey blood play, TOP CURTIS, bottom Bucky, Sub Bucky turned Dom real quick, crying, whining, spit, kinda cockwarming? I tried for the circumstances I swear, Daddy is used a few times . Oh. And Green Day.

I definitely have more cockwarming requests. So a cute and sleepy cockwarming drabble will probably happen eventually.

Bucky’s place wasn’t close to campus, but if Curt managed to catch a lift from Rosie or one of his girlfriends, then he’d manage to bribe them into dropping him off near the skate park which was only about a fifteen minute ride away from Bucky’s, if he was really putting his back into it.

He’d gone a week without seeing either of them, and while FaceTime was certainly one of the greatest modern inventions to exist, it didn’t do anyone justice — either the bar Curt was in was too loud, Bucky couldn’t figure out how to add Gale successfully to their call or Curt was balls deep in an essay about the Navier-Stokes Equations and Computational Fluid Dynamics while the other two had free time.

“I can’t go all the way to his place, Curt. I got work in like — fuck. Twenty minutes.” Rosie stared at his watch, gaze fluttering to land on Curt who stood in front of him, batting his lashes as he held his board at his hip.

“C’mon, Rosie. You’re arrangin’ bouquets all day, not protecting the government from cybersecurity attacks.” Curt stepped forward and tapped his nose. “At least not yet, Mister Digital Forensics.” His lashes fluttered again. “How ‘bout the park, then?”

When Rosie told Curt he’d gotten a job as part-time florist downtown, he’d laughed right in his face.

Ain’t no way!

Rosie stared straight at Curt, his lips tugged into a solemn line.

Wait — yo, forreal?

“I’ll — fuck — hey, Monday I’ll get you a coffee. How’s that, hm? For your troubles.” Curt made his voice sound sweet, stood before Rosie with his headphones around his neck, a loose tshirt hanging to his thighs, cutoffs revealing his scabby knees.

He blew an obnoxious bubble with his gum into Rosie’s contemplative face.

A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders sagging under the weight of resignation as he realized that continuing this argument with Curt would consume more time and energy than simply giving in. "Fine," Rosie conceded, his tone exhausted. "But you owe me a muffin, too.”

Curt flashed him a smirk once he’d plopped into the passenger seat of Rosie’s old Bronco where nothing but FM sports radio played through the muddied coaxial far older than them.

They chirped at each other for a little while about sports. None of which Curt knew a thing about besides what Bucky had told him. “Well, B says they got a good season ‘head of ‘em.” Curt popped a bubble between his teeth again, fingers fiddling with the too-loose trucks of his board to tighten them.

“You listen to everything he says?” Rosie shot a sidelong glance at Curtis, a brow risen. “It’s almost like you have no singular thoughts these days.” He continued, though he shouldn’t have. “Bucky this, Bucky that.”

The radio statics, but drones on.

That’s baseball for you folks. The Kawasaki kid has ice in his veins! One swing of the bat can change everything.

“I got plenty’a thoughts of my own.” Curt grit his teeth but forced his jaw to relax the moment he heard Gale in the back of his head, reminding him right away that his first reaction is rarely ever his best.

Relax, Curt. Take a deep breath. It’s nothing to get all bent out of shape about. Tell me a few things you can see. What do you taste? What do you smell? What can you touch?

Redbuds blooming in early spring, spent bubblegum, the leak in Rosie’s busted exhaust, the textured and worn down urethane of the wheels on his board.

“Hardly.” Rosie drummed his fingers over his steering wheel absentmindedly, reducing himself to the songs in his head since the radio in his car failed to work half the time. “You think he’s gonna keep you around when you’re graduated? Or, god forbid, you turn twenty-six and Ruthie doesn’t pay for your health insurance anymore? Officially too old for Attorney at Law, Bucky Egan.”

They hadn’t talked about Gale all that much besides the fact that he and Bucky often worked on case studies together and were usually working the same if not similar court dockets — a good friend who he certainly hadn’t dropped to his knees for.

“Fuck off with that.” Curt waved his hand at Rosie, his head shaking in disbelief and his expression one of grand theatrics. “Ain’t mine or nobody else’s fault you ain’t been laid in months. Maybe if you weren’t such a fuckin’ downer, man,” he pulled his shirt up to tighten the shoelace threaded through his belt loops. “You been on my back about it now for a while.”

“Well, all you do is talk about ‘em.”

“And, so what!?” Curt tapped his board a few times over the dashboard to taunt him and make a big, loud fuss. “You goddamn leech! You suck the fuckin’ life outta me, Robbie!” Curt was huffing through his nose, red in his cheeks and far from remembering the things he could see, taste, smell and touch. “You know Nora calls you Rosie Raincloud?” He was being venomous now, his fangs deep in Rosie’s flesh. “‘Cause you fuckin’ smother us with it, Robert. We hardly know what to say to you these days.”

Rosie had stomped his foot over the brake in one of the picturesque neighborhoods, nestled in a dreamy suburban wasteland, so different from the city.

His chin wobbled and his gaze denied Curt the satisfaction of seeing it reduced to a puddle — that hurt, but he could only really blame himself.

It wasn’t the first time he’d taken a swing at Curtis Biddick and got hit back twice as hard.

“You don’t gotta say nothin’.” Curt swung the passenger side door open and jumped out, his head sticking into the window for one last twist of the knife in Rosie’s chest. “Coffee shop ain’t even fuckin’ open on Mondays.”

Rosie peeled off, leaving Curt to hop on his board and kick his legs as hard and fast as he possibly could, his headphones tugged back over his ears and the volume turned up as loud as it could go.

City of the dead, at the end of another lost highway.

Signs misleading to nowhere

He tried his hardest not to think about how he had acted, and the things he had said to Rosie — in truth, Curt was better equipped to handle what Rosie had been saying to him since after all it was his own opinion, which he’d reserved the right to.

Curt didn’t need to scream at him the way he did, or bring up Rosie’s sudden knack for draping a wet blanket over every conversation.

It didn’t get them anywhere.

His mind drifted so far away and his chest heaved with ragged breaths as he kicked his legs to the beat of the drum line in the song he listened to.

Angry, sloppy, reckless.

He stopped to take out some energy on the railings of concrete neighborhood staircases, finding his inability to make it down all the way in a front side a new irritant to focus on instead of the guilt he felt for hurting Rosie before his shift at the flower shop.

Until sunset he occupied his mind — or, until his exhausted body had failed him for the last time and sent his face into concrete. “I hear ya.” He mumbled at the sky, assuming it was all karmic as he reached into the grass nearby to grab his phone which had flown out of his pocket the first time the railing swiped him right between his ass cheeks and straight to his tailbone.

His body ached, his screen was cracked, there was glass in his thumb.

He hardly announced his presence anymore, fucking up the gate code a few times due to the shakiness of his fingers and dropping his keys to his feet while he attempted to unlock the front door, a wild and unabashed string of cocksuckingmotherfuckingpiecesofshit falling from his lips once he’d kicked the door closed with the back of his heel, limping into the kitchen to nose around for a snack, although he had really expected Bucky to be on his second glass of wine by then, his iPad an inch from his face as he browsed the internet for a new dinner recipe.

“Hey,” Bucky called from the garden where he lounged in his tightest swimming shorts — the ones that showed off the thick muscle of his thighs and the curve of his toned hips. “Hey!” He’d been calling to Curtis from the open French doors that lead to the pool, the sun still too bright to realize Curt was bleeding from an unknown source on his face with his headphones still blaring music into his brutalized eardrums.

Where have all the bastards gone?

The underbelly stacks up ten high.

“Dammit, Curtis.” Bucky got up from where he was laying, riddled with irritation that Curt didn’t come squealing into his lap like he always did, attacking him like a sucker fish on any bit of skin he left visible.

His footsteps weren’t detected by Curt that peeled a string cheese layer by layer, half of his body reaching into the fridge to find something else to eat. “If you’re gonna use my money for things like this, at least give me the satisfaction of -“ he’d reached to pull Curt’s headphones away from his ears which had inadvertently caused Curt to whip around, bright blue eyes starkly contrasted by the flow of crimson that stained his lips and neck.

This wasn’t the first time, nor the last.

Still, Bucky let out a sigh as Curt continued to feed himself strings of cheese, blinking up at Bucky as if nothing had been out of place — though, even John would admit, this got easier each time.

“What was it this time?”

Curt sighed, his shoulders shrugging. “Don’t even remember.”

He was so lost in his own thoughts about his fight with Rosie that he could hardly recall what he had landed and what he hadn’t — he had no notes to give himself and nothing he could set his intentions to improve on later.

He threw his body around for four hours and got nothing out of it. And, not to mention, he may have lost a friend.

Bucky shoved his face in Curt’s neck once he’d pulled him nearer, so damp with sweat and radiating heat like the surface of the sun. So bright, so warm, so absolutely gorgeous. “Need to keep all your braincells the way they are.” He murmured, drawing in the scent of him while his lips pressed kisses to the salty heat on the soft flesh of his neck.

Curt still felt sore about what he’d done to Rosie but with Bucky in front of him like this, his hands groping his sides to pull him closer, it grew more and more difficult to think about anything else. “C’mon, m’fuckin’ filthy, Bucky.” He whispered, his voice barely there.

“Oh, I know.”

The sun continued to set beneath the hedges in the garden and the breeze that blew through the open doors had cooled him down enough, but Bucky had done very little to stop his sweating — his palms splayed over the softness of Curt’s hips, the small of his back, the curve of his neck. “You need me to kiss it all better, don’t you?” Bucky could taste the metallic sting dance over his tastebuds. “Need me to lick you clean, hm?”

Curt had still felt the hot sting of anger in his belly, the annoyance with himself for getting it all wrong, the frustration of having no control over what he said, his emotions, and how he reacted to them.

He pushed himself forward, chest to Bucky’s until he was backed into the center island, his skin stained down to the neck of his tshirt. “You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” The blue of his iris had darkened like the deepest parts of the ocean — the most dangerous. “Can’t wait to have me down your throat, huh?”

Bucky could hardly suppress the expression coloring his features as a searing chill trickled over every inch of his body. “Fuck,” his palms flattened again over Curt’s sides and down to the curve of his ass where he grabbed two handfuls, pressing his body closer and closer. “Look at you.”

He looked fucked up on himself, mesmerized by his own power, his own influence — Bucky was the softest, warmest putty between his bloody fingers. “Been thinkin’,” Curt grabbed Bucky’s jaw, forcing his lips to part as his own grew inches away. “When you cut your finger. Made me think, ya know — it made your face get all screwed up, made you whine a little.”

Bucky had sliced his finger clean open on a new set of knives Gale got him for Christmas months ago, the blades still sharp as the day he brought them out of the box.

“Think you can make me whine?” Bucky’s voice had drawn itself deep into his chest, teased by Curt who leaned himself in as if he’d finally give Bucky what he wanted, a true taste of what he knew he was missing out on, just to pull away a flash him a grin with front teeth slicked with blood.

“I can do anything.” Curt chirped back.

He pressed his hand into Bucky’s chest again, the other cradling his jaw as he walked him backward and himself forward, a wall behind them eventually where Curt slotted his leg between Bucky’s thick thighs. “What’s the over under?”

Bucky liked to gamble with his work buddies on Saturdays.

Curt would sit by idly near a high stakes poker table or the screen where Bucky and his friends would bet on ponies and he’d drink boozy milkshakes and flirt with the cocktail waitresses he had no interest in for a couple complimentary vouchers for the buffet where he only used the soft serve machine or the gift shop where a collection of cute coffee mugs were sold, and he had his heart set on acquiring them all without spending a dime.

“Not a chance.” Bucky tilted his head back against the wall, his narrow gaze fixed on Curt who hooked his fingers over the waistband of Bucky’s swimming shorts. “I don’t make bets on thoroughbreds without a track record, baby.”

Curt had yet to reveal this particular side of himself.

Sure, he was tough.

He’d bust his lip, his ass or his nose and get back up giggling. He’d fall off and get right back on. He’d argue his side of the story, he’d stand firm in his beliefs.

But he’d never claimed to be dominant in the way he’s portraying now.

The fact that he could wasn’t so much a shock, it was that he chose right then to do it.

“Smart man.” Curt shoved his fingers into Bucky’s mouth, holding him still with his thumb curved beneath his jaw. “On your knees.” He hooked his fingers a little tighter and guided Bucky down to where he balanced on his haunches until his knees fell forward, forcing him to sit on his folded legs where Bucky stared up at him expectantly.

So fucking beautiful.

He already knew what to do, as he’d done it for Curt plenty — his cutoffs were shucked down to his ankles and kicked across the room, his bloody tshirt following suit. Bucky had a hard time figuring how he’d be the one whining instead of Curt until he felt the familiar sensation of tiny fingers threading through his thick brown waves, tugged a little tighter than ever before.

“Go on,” Curt whispered in a shallow breath, “Get me wet for you.”

Bucky could hardly believe his ears, the shock drawing him quickly to obey a Curtis who was typically mounting himself over Bucky right about now, spouting off about how Bucky’s cock is so big and how he can feel it in his tummy.

He worked his tongue over every curve and vein of Curt’s cock only for hips to be drawn closer to his face, his eyes brimming with a sudden surge of cock-teased tears, “Fuck,” Curt grumbled, the blood drying now over his still damp and glimmering skin. “Look so fuckin’ hot with a cock down your throat.”

Rather quickly the spot in Curt’s belly where he held his rage earlier was replaced by the butterfly feeling of having Bucky’s mouth on him — until, of course, Curt had coaxed him into position atop an expensive area rug in the living room, knelt between his thighs once he’d removed Bucky’s slutty swim shorts from his hips.

“Didn’t know how pretty ya’d look like this.” Curt took in the sight of a pink-cheeked Bucky, his thighs spread and his cock achingly hard, curved deliciously over the little trail of hair beneath his bellybutton.

He’d yet to let out a whine, but if he didn’t feel Curtis closer to him soon, he’d be waving a white flag as he went down with the ship. “Kiss me,” it came out in an almost bashful plea as his eyes scanned the lips before him, the dull dried blood brought to life again each time Curt licked his lips. “Please.”

“Ohh,” it was an almost taunting coo. “Got your manners, huh?” A dribble of spit slid past Curt’s parted lips and between Bucky’s spread thighs, his cock slicked gently past the hole that tensed at the sensation. “Relax for me.” Curt whispered, his hips grinding his length against Bucky’s which already twitched. “Show me how good you are.”

Bucky hardly knew if he was able to be good, but he’d try. “Please.” He whispered again, though he was careful not to allow his desperation to show. “Just fuckin’ kiss me.”

Curt rolled his eyes, spitting again but that time it was at Bucky’s chest, tinged pink from the blood still lingering on his tongue. “You don’t make the rules, John.” He basked again at the sight before him — glowing cheekbones, parted lips, hands reaching to spread the dampness Curt had spat onto him around his chest and into his own mouth.

“Not when I got you lookin’ like this.”

It seemed Bucky had leaned into it, his body still tense but his eyes soft as could be.

Curt rut his hips between his cheeks, a rumbled string of groans bubbling from his loins as his right hand milked a couple little pearls of precum from Bucky’s cock that throbbed beneath his grip. “Y’like this, don’t you?” He whispered softly, his usual playfulness still dripping over every word; sticky sweet.

“Yeah, baby.” Bucky gasped, still willing his gaze to focus on what was before him although he was hardly able to discern if it was real or not. “Gonna fuck me?” He felt another sting of anticipation dance over each notch of his spine.

Curt grinned deviously, little body slotted between Bucky’s thighs that could easily overpower him but wouldn’t dare. At least not yet. “Need to get you ready for me,” he reached forward, his fingers slid gently into Bucky’s mouth and over his soft, warm tongue.

It wasn’t long before Curt could hardly stave off his excitement, fingers gentle but prodding against Bucky’s hole that took a finger to the knuckle easier than he’d been expecting, a gasp following suit. “Fuck,” Bucky whispered, his hips instinctively twitching at the unfamiliar sensation. “Fuck — fuck, fuck,”

A second finger, a third.

Lube from a drawer in the coffee table slicked over Curt’s thick fingers as he worked them into Bucky whose brows furrowed, pillowy pink lips parted as gentle huffs escaped them.

“Talk to me, Daddy.” Curt whispered, knelt down between Bucky’s thighs like a predator sizing up its prey that just so happened to be twice the size of himself. “Do I make you feel good?” His fingers worked Bucky open while he pressed rough and starved kisses over his thighs that twitch every now and then.

“Yeah, baby.” Bucky sucked a breath between his teeth, his heart flipping in his chest once Curt’s fingers had found his prostate.

He held in a whine that crept up on him in the very back of his throat and Curtis could tell. “Such a good fuckin’ boy, Curtie. Fuck —“ Bucky threaded his fingers through Curt’s hair, chest heaving once his fingers found a rhythm.

Curt could hardly believe his eyes, falling in love again with a new version of Bucky he’d never met before — all soft hues of pink and deliciously tanned skin, lips glistening with spit and his gorgeous eyes half-hidden behind eyelids that fluttered. “You look so pretty like this.” He mouthed at Bucky’s balls and the base of his cock, pressing sweet kisses against his sensitive skin.

Bucky could hardly deny himself what he wanted anymore as he whispered a gentle plea, “Fuck me.”

Curt hummed between his legs, sitting up slowly to observe yet another angle once he’d carefully withdrew from Bucky altogether to line their hips up, his cock eventually replacing the fingers that gripped Bucky’s thighs instead to spread them wider. “Think you’re ready?” He leaned his chest over Bucky’s, chaste kisses pressed against his open mouth.

“Mhmmm.” Bucky mustered, their kisses hot and wet and sloppy — uncoordinated and needy. He’d never wanted anything more in his life than this. “Put that big cock to use for once.”

An interesting spot he was in to be making snide remarks, Curtis thought, and so he gave him exactly what he’d wanted.

He lined himself up nice and gentle before snapping his hips forward, pulling Bucky closer by his thighs once he’d abruptly buried himself within the tight, wet heat before him.

And there it was.

A long winded whine that started low and gentle had died out high-pitched and breathy right into Curtis’ mouth who continued to lick, kiss and nip at Bucky’s wet lips. “Oh, listen to you.” Curt drawled, allowing John to adjust before his hips had found a slow rhythm, watching as the man beneath him writhed.

“Gonna have you fuckin’ cryin’ for my cock all the time now, hm?”

Bucky choked back a whimper he couldn’t even pretend to hide, desperate and sweat slicked hands grasping onto Curt — anything to hold. “Feels s-so— fuck, baby - “ he could hardly form a coherent thought once Curt picked up his pace, hand hardly big enough to wrap around Bucky’s throat but he kept a tight grip, nonetheless.

Bucky still felt a little shy about this.

A little out of place.

Eventually, the unfamiliarity and pain had quickly tumbled and grew larger into an indescribable pleasure once Curt’s hips had little to hold back any longer, fucking into Bucky relentlessly who took it like he’d been meant to all along.

Uh-uh-uhs were forced out of him, his thighs spread wider and his eyes managing to focus again when he began to pant like he was reaching the finish line.

Curt was so far from done with him.

“Ah-ah,” he withdrew abruptly, watching Bucky writhe again and attempt to pull him back in. “I got you all worked up, don’t I?” His hands smoothed over Bucky’s damp curls, tugging gently. “Takin’ my cock so good, never knew you were such a fuckin’ —“

Bucky sucked in a deep breath and used his legs to flip Curtis onto his back, knocking the wind out of him.

“Think you’re tough now, huh?” He still looked like a fucked-out mess, his eyes half lidded and his heart pounding in his chest. “Had your cock in me and forgot how easy Daddy can have you gagging for him.”

Curt tried to push Bucky’s hands off of him, his cheeks still slathered in dried blood turning pink beneath the mess. “Had you close-“ his rebuttal was quickly snipped once Bucky had slicked his fingers in with lube and brought them between Curt’s cheeks, hooked into him and pulling him closer.

“Get the fuck off me.” Curt tried to put up a fight but his body had been betraying him as his thighs spread for Bucky, his feet lifted from the floor as he moaned at the roughness of it, a punishment it seemed for denying Bucky the pleasure he’d been so vulnerable to receive.

“Nobody takes it like my baby does,” Bucky basked in the familiarity and the tightness around his fingers that hammered into Curt until his thighs were shaking and the back of his knees dripped in sweat. “Isn’t that right?”

Big, fat tears had once again revived the dried blood that had smeared itself over his face by then, every moan that rattled out of him tumbling into a choked sob. “Fuck you.” He whined, his white flag waved with confidence as he went down with the ship Bucky had since abandoned and yet he still managed to put up a fight. “Mother fucker.”

“Oh, that’s not how good boys behave, Curtis.”

Fingers were replaced with Bucky’s cock, Curt’s features softening at the familiar sensation, the one thing he’d ask for on death row.

This is his truest Last Supper.

There was no movement by Bucky, though.

He buried his cock deep into Curtis, swearing to himself that when they were just like this, he could see the bulge of his cock in Curtis’ little belly. “You know what happens when you’re bad, don’t you?”

“I wasnt!” Curt barked, desperately trying to withdrawal from Bucky and snap his hips back again. “I wasn’t bad - I- I wasn’t-“ he was a mess of tears again, the emotions of the day crashing down on him in a heap. “You fuckin’ cocksuckin’—“

The exam he failed, his fight with Rosie, his busted face, and now this.

“Nah,” Bucky held Curt’s thighs to his chest, his cock staying right in its place, not an inch of movement. “Gonna stay just like this until you can show me how sorry you are.”

There, Bucky realized, was his place.

He had never minded being vulnerable with Curtis — in fact, vulnerability was his strong suit.

At first, he was the worst out of the two when it came to expressing his feelings, his thoughts and his emotions.

In the end it was only ever because of the judgement he feared of receiving for loving Curtis. Someone younger than himself, more reckless, with more life to live.

“I’m sorry,” Curt sniffled loudly, a puddle of old blood, tears and a runny nose that threatened to bleed again, the drip metallic and sour in the back of his throat. “I’m so sorry — I - I’ll never be bad again, I promise.”

They both knew a lie when they heard one.

“I’m so good for you.” Curt arched his back, anything for a little friction against his suddenly neglected and angry looking cock. “Look at me — I’m all yours, Bucky. Every part of me — I—“ he sobbed again, reaching down to touch himself but he was abruptly denied, his wrists held above his head. “Fuck me till I can’t fuckin’ breathe.”

Bucky felt sick for being so turned on.

A whimpering, whining, crying Curtis before him with a hot and hard cock that leaked beautifully against the little trail of hair below his bellybutton. “Oh, my pretty baby.” He cooed, reaching forward to wipe his crybaby tears away and granting him just a bit of movement when he did. “I couldn’t let you forget, honey — look what I’ve done to you.”

Curt tried again to surge forward and gain an upper hand, but it was disastrously useless.

Bucky was far stronger than he, even despite being fucked open just a moment ago. “Dunno what I’m gonna do with you.” He murmured, pulling away from Curtis at once and bringing him gently to his feet, holding him against the wall where Bucky felt he’d be doing his knees and Curt’s back a favor once he lifted him up off the ground and around his waist.

It was brutal after that, and for once Curt was unsure he could handle it. “Too much! T-too much,” he whimpered, but Bucky could hardly be bothered. “It’s too much — I can’t-“

If it was truly too much, Curt knew what he needed to say.

A safe word was set in stone the first time Curt had passed out and hit the floor, his brow split open.

All he cared about when he came to was finishing, though — even with an almost-crying Bucky and Gale in his face, worried beyond reason.

“Yes, you can, baby.” Bucky groaned, knowing full well Curt’s orgasm was dependent on the completion of his own.

Didn’t matter how much Curt was fucked.

If he wasn’t full of it, he just couldn’t get off.

A rather endearing blessing, but a curse just the same.

“I can’t Bucky, I can’t.” A wreck he was — and Bucky loved reducing him to such a state. Babbling, whining, his voice strained through the tears he choked on. “S’too much.”

Luckily, it was enough to sputter Bucky’s hips forward, hips rolling into Curt to milk his orgasm while Curt’s hole fluttered around his cock, his little body pulsing as he threw his head back against the wall where he thumped a few brain cells loose.

Bucky reached up to hold the back of his head, clicking his tongue. “There you go, honey,” he whispered gently to a Curtis whose body trembled through an earth shattering orgasm, “Let it all go, baby. Look at how much you’re givin’ me.”

Curt’s body was covered in sweat, blood, tears and now a splattered mess of his devotion to Bucky — hot and wet; sticky and so fucking sweet.

Bucky plopped them both onto the couch, Curt’s body wrapping around him and refusing to give his cock back despite it growing softer by the minute. “I love you.” He hiccuped into Bucky’s neck, the emotions flooding back to him once he’d been dumped right back into his reality — the one where he failed his test and more than likely lost a friend. “So much.”

“C’mon, Curt. Y’know I love you more than anything.” Bucky smoothed his hands over Curt’s damp curls, pulling his face away from the curve of his neck to look at him. “What’s goin’ on with you?”

He couldn’t talk about it now.

Just wanted to be here, in Bucky’s lap, the warmth of their love still burning inside him. “Later.” He whispered, sniffling loudly. “I’ll tell you later.”

#💌#yoyo writes #this was insane #I’m insane #lock me up #curtbucky #lcau

22 notes · View notes