😬🧸👀 - with Gator🤭
sorry this took so long bb! I kinda got carried away 😅 but I hope you enjoy!!
18+//MDNI// AFAB reader with intense menstrual sickness, no use of y/n, implied smut, etc. etc.
😬 confessing feelings
🧸 exes with feelings
👀 forced proximity
“You’re really gonna make me sit in here all night?”
“Sure am.”
You flop back onto the rickety, worn cot in the holding cell, grumbling to yourself while Gator’s leaned against the wall, eyes fixated on you.
“Wanna share that one with the class?” He taunts, just waiting for the tiniest fuck up to add to your charges. You just lift your middle finger into the air and hold it towards him. “Yeah, still fuckin’ immature. Figures.”
Scoffing, you sit back up, ignoring how dizzy you are from the sudden movement; putting your ex boyfriend in his place, even behind bars, was more important than how you were feeling right now.
“Me? Gator, when the fuck are you gonna become more self aware? You’ve got the maturity level of a teenage boy, I swear.” He just rolls his eyes over your words, blowing thick clouds from his vape, ignoring the way your comment jabs at his feelings anyway. “Did you even think to ask why I did what I did?”
Gator strolls up to the bars, glaring at you, with that stupid fucking vape in hand. “What? Why you stole? Why would anythin’ justify that?” As he takes another hit, you push to your feet, ignoring again how lightheaded you feel before stomping over to the other side of the cell. You’re quick to grab the vape from his hands through the metal bars.“Hey! Jesus, why are ya’ actin’ like you’re on the fuckin’ rag?”
“Because I am, asshole!” Glowering at him, you back yourself up further into the cell, tauntingly waving his vape in your hands. “You ain’t gettin’ this back.” You take a glance at the flavor and laugh. “How did you give me shit for liking fruity drinks, but you’re out here inhaling strawberry bubblegum like that ain’t the same thing?”
“Can’t believe I forgot how goddamn irritatin’ you get on your period.” He’s grumbling while searching his pocket for keys to the cell.
“Can’t believe I forgot how misogynistic you can get.” You spit back, ready to throw more sharp words his way, but an intense, shooting pain runs down your lower stomach, through your legs and to your knees. Instead, the only thing leaving your mouth is a collection of variations of ‘fuck’. “Fuck this, fuck this stupid fucking town, fuck you, fuck periods, fu—”
Distracted by your pain and justified anger, you’re caught off guard when Gator pushes you into the nearest wall, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head. He pushes you hard enough that you huff the air out of your lungs, but not hard enough to hurt you. Everything already hurts, anyway, but it’s still a dick move on his part.
“Gator what the fuck is your problem?!”
“What’s yours?” He grits through his jaw, set stiff in his own anger. He easily grabs the vape from your hands, stuffing it in his pocket, but still keeping a hold on you with one hand. You try to fight his grasp, but can’t free yourself. “Thought you liked playin’ rough.”
That’s it. You think to yourself. I’m fuckin’ sick of his bullshit.
“Yeah, when I’m not about to pass out, you stupid fuck.” You meant for your words to come out with an edge, but you just sound weak; this was normal with your period. It drained you down to nothing every month, hitting you with all kinds of sickness, migraines, sometimes even fainting, but you’ve gotten better at catching that before it can happen.
Except right now, where you were more concerned about giving Gator a taste of his own medicine, and now your ears are ringing while the edges of your vision darken.
“Shit,” Gator grabs a stronger hold on you before your knees can buckle as another flash of pain runs down your legs. Now he remembers. He wants to kick himself for forgetting how brutal your cycles were, when long ago, he was the one to comfort you through them. “C’mon, you need to sit.” He leads you to the cot, helping you lift your legs as you lay on your side, face scrunched in pain. “Do you need anythin’? Like will anythin’ help right—“
“Unless you’ve got a heating pad, no.” You laugh mirthlessly as you hug yourself around your torso. “And you fuckin’ took my painkillers. So that’s a bust.”
“They weren’t yours—” Gator shuts himself up quickly; now’s not the time to shame you for your first and only harmless crime. “Hang tight,” He rushes out of the cell, not bothering to lock you in again. Not like you could sprint for the door right now anyway. Gator comes back, ripping open an evidence bag as he makes his way to you.
“Gator, wait, what the fuck, you can’t just—“
“Case was dropped and they never came back for it.” He answers before you can finish your thought, plugging a heating pad into a nearby outlet outside the cell; thank goodness the cord is long and reaches into the hallway.
“Wait… why was a heating pad used as evidence to begin with?”
“Don’t know, don’t care, it’s clean and works,” He hands the heating pad to you, and you take it without further question.
You press it against your body where you need it most, and feel slight relief. It doesn’t make the aching cramps and shooting pain down your legs stop, but it helps ease up on that, at least. “Thank you,” you speak up softly.
Gator nods before holding a finger up, “Hang on.” He disappears again, and comes back just as fast as he left, water bottle in one hand, and over the counter painkillers in the other. “Will these help?” You silently nod, grabbing both items from him and sit up. As you take double the recommended dose, desperate to make the pain go away. Gator drags a chair in to sit next to you, asking the question you offered earlier, “You still wanna tell me why you were stealin’?” His tone isn’t belittling, if anything, it’s just curiosity and concern that carries his words.
Sighing, you reply, “Have you seen how expensive everythin’ is lately?”
“Well, yeah, but you’re still workin’, right?”
“They cut my hours at the diner, and I’ve been struggling to make ends meet.” It’d normally embarrass you to be so upfront about financial issues, but you did offer an explanation earlier, and now you’re in a daze from the pain, slowly subsiding, now slipping into the post-pain fatigue you usually get. The last thing on your mind is caring about your pride. “Didn’t have enough for painkillers and tampons, ain’t that messed up? I get it, stealing’s bad, but what the fuck else was I supposed to do?
“You coulda’ called me.”
“Gator, the last time we talked was months ago, and you told me you wished we never met.” He winces at his past words being dug up. How could he say that to you? There was never a reason to end things the way they ended.
There was honestly never a reason to end things at all.
“I shoulda’ never said that shit to you. M’sorry.” Gator’s ashamed he let things fall apart the way they did. He’s ashamed he even created cracks into the only sturdy relationship he’s ever been in. “So much was buildin’ up and I was overwhelmed… and that’s no excuse for the way I hurt ya’. And m’sorry I never asked why you would even steal to begin with. I just knew it wasn’t like you, but I didn’t think to ask anythin’ further.”
Yawning, you fight off the urge to let your eyes rest closed. “If you were anyone else, I’d be throwing that apology into the trash right now. You’re lucky I still got love for you.”
It’s silent for a moment, but the moment feels like it lasts an eternity, until Gator speaks up. “You’re just sayin’ that to butter me up and kick the charges under the rug.” He wants to say he still loves you, too, but he’s worried it’s not the time or place.
Brows scrunching together, you shake your head, “What? No way. I mean it, even if I’m pissed at you right now— oh… oh no. Um… Gator?” Your eyes traveled to the once open door of the holding cell, now shut and locked, with Gator’s keys just past the bars on a desk nearby. “Please tell me you got spare keys.”
Puzzled, Gator’s head spins to the door. “… No.” It’s late, and he’s too worn down from the day to start yelling in frustration over this, so he just slides his hands over his face, sighing roughly into his palms. “Fuck my life. When did that even fuckin’ happen?”
You shrug. “Karma.”
“Ka— Hey, don’t you start.” Gator warns. “I’m stuck in here with ya’ now, so be nice.”
“For how long?”
“…. ‘Til sunrise. So that’s in,” Gator checks the time on his phone, grumbling in defeat. “Three hours.”
“That’s what you get for arresting me at a 24 hour convience store at 3 am.”
“I- I was doin’ my job!” Gator crosses his arms as he slides down in his chair, annoyance plastered all over his face. “The fuck are we gonna do for three hours?”
Again, you shrug. “Ain’t my problem, I’ll probably sleep, I’m tired enough to on this shitty cot anyway.”
Gator groans, defeated and bored already. Then, a thought crosses his mind that he has no business bringing up, especially not locked in a cell with you, but he’ll take his chances. “Hey, does touchin’ yourself still help with cramps?”
You pop an eye open to glare at him. “Excuse me?”
Blushing, he tries explaining, “Y- yeah, remember how I used to help ya’ with that sometimes?” He’s being polite, because it was every time you had your period. “Does it still work?”
“… Maybe, why?”
He clears his throat before going for it, “I can help… if ya’ want. Least I can do for throwin’ you into this mess.”
“Gator … I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You ignore how your stomach flips at his suggestion, missing how his fingers felt on your skin. “I can just do it myself if I really need anyway.” As your sentence ends, you whimper in pain; most of it had faded off, but you’re still getting flashes of cramps every so often.
“Seems like you need it.”
Narrowing your eyes, you sit up, hissing in pain as you put your back against the wall while your feet kick off the side of the cot. “Doubt you know how to get me off anymore.”
Gator shifts the chair closer to you, spreading your legs to sit between them, hands on your thighs. “That a challenge?”
“Sure is.” You try holding a smug face, but it wavers as his hands travel upward, wasting no time to unbutton your jeans.
“You cool with this?” Gator asks, hand hovering over your underwear, eyes locked with yours. You nod, eyes dark and hooded with lust and a desire to forget about these fucking cramps for even a moment, breathing out a soft “uh-huh”.
Keeping his touch over the fabric, Gator gently rubs your sensitive nub, tugging a breathy whine out of you as your head tilts back, resting against the wall. Your hips twitch forward, pushing your core into his hand, earning a smirk from him. “There y’go, sweetheart. Gonna take good care of ya’.” It’s not long before you’re starting to shake and tense up, climax just within your grasp.
A sound of metal clinking together echoes out from the concrete floor, breaking the focus for both of you. You look down and see another set of keys that fell out of one of Gator’s pockets, then slowly look back at him. Gator’s jaw falls, embarrassed he didn’t even realize they were with him.
“Oh my god….” You’re shocked, but at least he found them now, rather than three hours from now. Still, you’re suspicious. “Did you pretend we were locked in?”
“No! No, I— I thought I lost those last month,” Gator sheepishly admits. “I swear none of this was on purpose. We can stop if you want. I’ll take ya’ home and handle the charges. We don’t gotta speak ‘bout any of this ever again.” He begins pulling his hand away, but you grip his wrist, holding his large hand against your clothed cunt. The bold action makes him groan lowly, eyes fixated on the scene between the two of you.
“Absolutely not,” You grind against his touch, whining as his fingers begin to move against your clit again. “Not ‘til you finished what you started, Tillman.”
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KJ LISTEN TO ME
There's this one song that I've loved for quite some time. Idk if u know it, but it's called "Lovers Do - The Brummies".
AND IM JUST NOW REALIZING THAT THE WHOLE SONG SCREAMS FLYBOY!!😭
Now I'm sinking in deep a sea of green eyes
Feel your lips on my cheek and taste the red wine
Listen to it im begging you. Cause it's the soundtrack to flyboy in my head take it or leave it
Brb re-reading ur masterpiece again just to feel something
I AM LISTENING TO YOU AND THE SONG BABY.
ahhhhhh the feeeeeels 🥺 i have my phone hooked up to my sound system so it is everywhere, and my god - this vibe 🥺
can you imagine then having a lazy weekend afternoon in bed in her apartment, because it’s raining 😭 helppppppp.
-
(Context: Flyboy - but readable without)
You are flopped back in your bed, the rain pelting down against the windows of your apartment. You can hear the howl of the wind, and the gentle rumble of thunder somewhere far away. You are a tangle of sheets, legs, arms, limbs, and Jake. You are sunk down in bed, your head is against his chest, his arm around you, you flipping the pages of a book in your fingers, and Jake’s gaze focused on the television mounted on the wall.
You can smell the faint oaky notes of the wine glass Jake had just emptied not too long ago, each time he breathes out, mixing in with the scent of his soap. He shifts, the side of his face falling against the top of your head, and you can feel the scruff on his jaw rub against your forehead.
You lift your head off from his chest to glance at him. It forces Jake to move his head off yours. He doesn’t glance back, his eyes still trained on the screen in front of him, but he turns his head ever so slightly to press a kiss to your forehead. You take him in, hair mussed, face scruffy, but still devastatingly good looking - just letting himself be him, Jake, with you.
He feels you staring a second longer than anticipated and Jake looks down, his greens meeting your eyes. You see the twitch in his jaw, indication that he is about to speak, and you drop your book in your lap, raising a hand to tug his face down to yours before he can. Jake lets you, and your lips meet, slow, unhurried, luxuriating in nothing but each other. You can taste the wine on his tongue.
There's nothing that I'd rather do / Than lay here inside this room for two
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