#standing ovulation

“Darlin’, you can’t be serious,” Gator huffed as he tightened his arm around your waist, “The mask? That’s sexy?”

The two of you were curled up on your couch, snowed in together for the weekend. Did you intentionally invite your situationship over before the snowfall reached its peak? Maybe. Did you regret it? Absolutely not. It was the closest thing you and Gator had ever had to a date, since the back-and-forth fling started. 

After making dinner together (or rather, Gator bothering you and stealing scraps from the meal until you finished cooking), you both settled in to watch a movie. At Gator’s request, you had to evade chick flicks, stupid cartoons, or anything so sweet it’d make him gag… he was a little dramatic, to say the least. So instead of settling on another pointless action flick or weird arthouse film, you had decided to watch ‘Scream’.

 “It’s fuckin’ goofy,” He groaned as he took another hit of his vape, blowing the smoke up at the ceiling. 

“The mask isn’t the sexy thing,” You rolled your eyes, playfully prodding at his side, “It’s the fact that you can’t see the person’s face, the voice box, the chase and surprise capture. Like a sexy game of cat-and-mouse.”

“I can’t tell if that makes it a mask kink or a prey kink,” Gator lowly chuckled before lightly nipping at your ear. 

“Shut up,” you groaned, swatting his chest in return, “Forget I ever mentioned it.”

“No, no,” he slyly continued, his nose nudging against the juncture of your jawline, ghosting kisses towards your pulse point, “Tell me more about how you got the hots for a killer.”

“I invite you to my home and make you dinner, and this is how you repay me?” You lightly shoved at him, not intending the frustration in your words. 

Gator hummed but settled down as the plot moved forward. His hand, however, drifted from your waist down to the swell of your ass. You quickly snagged his wrist, “Hands where I can see ‘em, Tillman.”

Just like that, the moment had passed. Or so you thought…

— — — 

The bed sheet had been lazily strewn over your sleeping frame. Both you and Gator had crashed in the bedroom, not too long after the movie had ended. Any intention you’d had earlier died as soon as your head hit the pillow, exchanging messy kisses and settling for heavy petting until you passed out. 

The sound of a car door slamming was what roused you from your initial slumber. When you reached a hand out to wake Gator, you discovered only emptiness. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes, your attention drifted to the bathroom door, but the lights were off, and it was empty. You moved to your feet, wondering if he had decided to run home to the Tillman Ranch. Yet when you looked out the window, his noir truck was still parked outside, surrounded by at least sixteen inches of snow. 

When you heard boots thump on the front porch, you figured that Gator had simply gone outside to smoke. That was still a strange explanation when you considered he never had an issue vaping anywhere he pleased. Grabbing an oversized sweater from your drawer, you slipped it on, along with your pajama shorts. You peered your head out into the hallway, hoping to catch his shadow in the porch light. 

Only, the house seemed darker, emptier than it typically did. The air was still, besides the sound of the wind whipping around the house. A more logical part of your brain told you simply to go back to bed, yet curiosity got the better of you. 

You approached the front door, glancing between the blades of your blinders. The snow had no divots or tracks, though the snow was coming down quickly enough to cover a small print. Gator’s black truck was still parked parallel to your carport, indicating that he was still here at least. As you moved to step back, that’s when you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye. 

You swiftly turned around, searching for what had caught your attention. There was nothing—just the same stillness. 

“Gator?” you called out into the silence, “Gator, let’s go back to bed.”

There was no reply. Exhaustion hung heavy in your body, and your frustration couldn’t leash itself. You marched down the main hall, back to your bedroom, “Gator, I ain’t playing games. Come to bed before I lock the damn door.”

You stepped back through the threshold of your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. It didn’t lock because it was an empty threat. As you eagerly climbed back into bed, you made sure to check your phone for any notifications about the storm. Just more snow. And a text… 

Unknown — So you don’t want to play?

When you clicked the notification, you quickly realized it was from an unsaved number. Your brow furrowed in confusion. If Gator wanted to do something, he would’ve just told you. This had to be just some wrong number or a prank message, nothing to worry about. 

You placed your phone face down on the nightstand, burrowing your face into the bedsheet. When another chime came from your phone, you reached for it, expecting Gator to explain his weird disappearance. Instead, it was another text from the unsaved number. 

Unknown — You looked so cute parading around in your sleep shorts. Can I cut them off you?

A slight panic began to set into your chest. Maybe it was a stalker or a pervy peeker who didn’t realize the damn sheriff’s son was in your bed right now. Well… not right now. But his truck was still here, so that counted for something. 

X — wrong number.

You replied. Just short enough to keep your identity vague. 

A minute later, and another chime. 

Unknown — So you give Gator some ass, but you won’t come out of the bedroom to pay me any attention?

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. Was this freak in your house? Did he hurt Gator? The thought crossed your mind to text back and ask, but what if that gave you up? Glancing at the nightstand, you slid off the bed and fell to your knees. You searched the bottom drawer for the pistol your dad convinced you to buy, hoping you remembered how to flip the safety off. Yet as you pushed between the miscellaneous junk, the gun wasn’t there, and you wouldn’t have put it anywhere else. Weighing your options of defense, you instead grabbed the hammer inside. 

Moving back onto your feet, you made your way to the bedroom door. Your ear pressed against the wood, listening for movement on the other side. It was silent, just as it had been earlier. 

Your phone chimed again. Fishing it from your pocket, you glanced down at the new notification. 

Unknown — you’re not giving me the silent treatment, are you?

Unknown - c’mon, mama. i just wanna make you scream.

Your nose scrunched, and you rolled your eyes. This guy was fucking baiting you. Pocketing the device, you reached for the doorknob when two large fists pounded against it from the otherside. In your panic, you yelped and stumbled back from the door. You could hear the low chuckle of amusement from the other side of the door, yet you couldn’t quite place it.  

Raising the hammer, you tugged open the door, ready to swing. Yet no one was there. Your eyes traveled up and down the hallway, only to find that it was empty. Against your better judgment, you staked out the hall, your eyes peeled for any sudden movements. There was hardly any space in your house for this asshole to keep hiding from you. 

“Gator, I swear to God, if you’re fucking around with me, this isn’t—”

The hair at the back of your neck stood up. Before you could react, a hand clamped over your mouth while a strong arm snaked around your waist. In your panic, you dropped the hammer, and the stranger dragged you backwards, leaving the tool to clatter against the floor. You thrashed in his hold, fingers clawing at the large hands that grabbed at you. 

“Quit fighting me,” The stranger sneered, his tone low and grumbling in his chest, “You wanted this, mama. I’m happy to oblige.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion at the words. You continued to kick your legs and jerk against him while he tugged you back. Eventually, he tossed you through the doorway of the bedroom. You stumbled down onto your hands and knees, off balance and gasping for air. 

When you glanced back at the stranger, your eyes widened in shock. Hovering over you was a man in all black, wearing a Jack Skellington mask. He stomped closer, boots heavy as he drew near. You pushed yourself back, skidding across the bedroom floor until your upper back came in contact with the bedframe. 

You cowered back against the frame, your hands and feet planted against the floor. Your knees were slightly spread so that you stared up into the black holes where the stranger glared down at you. He slowly cocked his head to the side, observing you, and you wondered what he was thinking behind the mask. 

The stranger nudged his boot between your legs, the toe nestling against your core. The action made your breath hitch, and the man hummed in satisfaction at your response. He dragged the tip of his steel-toed boot over your covered cunt, the pressure and friction dragging over your clit perfectly. Your fingers curled into the carpet while your lips parted with a soft sigh. 

“You just look so pretty at my feet,” The stranger taunted you, continuing his actions, “Maybe next time I’ll let you rub your pussy on my boot while you suck me off. But I’ve been craving that cunt all night, and you’re gonna let me have it.”

You gasped when his hand grabbed under your arms and yanked you up off the floor. He shoved you back onto your bed, hands eagerly grabbing at your pajama bottoms before tugging them down your legs. You made a half-hearted attempt to squirm away, but he simply grabbed your ankles and tugged you back to the edge of the bed. The calloused tips of his fingers trailed down your calf and over the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You couldn’t help the eager roll of your hips against his crotch. His bludge was large and pressed against the zipper of his jeans. 

The shaky breath he released only made you smile in satisfaction. He chuckled at your reaction, “You’re a little fucking freak, aren’t you, mama? You gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy? I bet you're already soaked… why don’t I just check?”

You heard the switchblade open before you saw it. Cool metal pressed against your skin and sliced upward, cutting your thong off of you. A gasp escaped your lips, your hips jerking up in surprise. He pressed the flat side of the blade against your mound, and you had to urge yourself to remain still at the cooling sensation. The edge of the knife raked gently over your skin before he made a second slice, your panties rippling away. His thumb dipped down to graze over your slit, dragging your slick upwards. 

“Oh, she’s fucking greedy. That’s what I like to see,” He chuckled in amusement as the pad of his thumb pressed against your clit. With his other hand, he closed and pocked the blade, yet you could feel his gaze holding your own. The tip of his thumb swirled around your clit, occasionally flicking at it. The hyperfocus on your clit left you breathless as he continued to toy with you, “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one who wanted them. So sing for me, mama. Tell him how much you love this.”

Before you could prep yourself, his hand lightly swatted at your cunt, the sensation making you groan at the dull and pleasurable ache. He straightened his stature, his hands moving to undo his zipper and free his cock from its constraints. The tip already had a pearl of precum smeared across it, and his hand settled at the base before he gave himself a light squeeze. 

He guided his length over your folds, the head of his cock dragging through your warmth. You shuddered at the sensation and released a soft whine. He tapped the head of his cock against your clit, satisfied with each little sound he pulled from you, “Yeah? Are you really that needy, honey? Don’t I fuck you good enough as is?”

The slip of his word made you glance up at him curiously, “G-Gator?”

“What you stuttering my name for?” He finally tilted his mask up. A large shadow hung over his smug face, “Who else were you expecting, mama? You got me trapped here with you in a storm and put silly ideas in my brain, and now I’m inclined to fuck you stupid.”

Gator resituated the mask over his face once more. His hands settled over your hips again before rolling you over onto your stomach as he climbed onto top of you. His palm shoved your face into the mattress, and you could hear him fiddling with his pocket. It wasn’t until his nails scratched against your scalp, tugging your head up by your hair, and his phone camera angled in front of your face that you realized what kind of animal you unleashed. 

“Smile, mama,” Gator chuckled as the flash went off. He tossed the phone back onto the nightstand as he slid back. His hands guided your hips and knees up, your back arching as your chest remained settled against the bed. 

The head of his cock slid up your folds, lightly catching against your hole. You shuddered at the sensation, swaying back to feel more of him. Gator stilled your movements, swatting the swell of your ass, “As I said, you’re so fuckin’ greedy for this cock. It’s depraved, really.”

You opened your mouth to argue, only to have the air knocked from your lungs as his cock breached your entrance. The words died on a strangled gasp as you clawed at the bedsheets. Gator released a satisfied grunt, “Damn, tight as hell, honey. After I fingered you earlier and everything. But that’s why you got the perfect pussy for me to play with, mama.”

He rocked his hips once, his pelvis grinding against your ass. The tip nudged against the sweet spot that made your head spin and thoughts die on your tongue. When he felt your muscles begin to relax, he pulled out a few inches before snapping his hips back into you. The sensation made your toes curl, and he observed the way you squirmed with dark satisfaction. 

“This is what you needed, huh? Could’ve just been a big girl and used your words, but we had to watch the damn movie and waste time when I could’ve been fucking  you like this the whole time,” Gator growled as he began to pick up his pace. It was brutal, the speed at which he pounded into it with just the right amount of force. As the tips of his finger dug into the flesh of your hips, you could already feel what bruises would show tomorrow. 

One of his hands trailed down your spine, the tingling sensation spurring your cunt to flutter in anticipation. Gator released a satisfied groan. His hand splayed over your upper back, between your shoulder blades. He used the new point of leverage to his advantage, pulling nearly all the way out before forcing his length back into your needy hole. The sounds of contact were wet, squelching, and purely obscene. Each thrust had you gasping, and you could hear the bloodrushing in your ears, ambient to Gator’s growl. 

When your hips began to droop on their own accord, Gator smirked to himself, “Aw, is the masked man fucking you dumb, mama?” 

Before you could muster up the energy to respond, Gator’s forearms latched under your shoulders to tug you upright. Your back was pinned against his broad chest, while the soft cotton of his shirt cushioned your skin. His hands cupped the swell of your breasts through your sweater as he continued to fuck up into you. The tips of his index fingers traced the outline of your nipples through your sweater, a dizzy feeling. Your head lulled back against his shoulder, the plastic of the mask occasionally grazing against your jawline. 

Eventually, one of his hands trailed back down to the soft skin between your lower abdomen and mound. Gator’s palm lightly pressed down, just enough to feel your muscles go taut with each thrust. He loved feeling just how well he filled you. With one of your arms now free, one of your shaky hands moved upwards to unmask him. But he was quicker than you. 

He easily caught your wrist, fingers pressing against your pulse point, “No, ma’am. That ain’t what you signed up for tonight.”

Once again, Gator was tossing you down onto the bed like a rag doll. You attempted to brace yourself back onto your elbows and knees, assuming your previous position. But that wasn’t what Gator wanted. 

Instead, Gator’s calloused palms fully shoved your flat against the mattress. He pulled out completely, nudging your legs further apart with his knee. With a loud snap, he spanked you, rubbing at the warm flesh as he watched you jerk. Finally, Gator crawled on top of you, the drag of his dick leaving a trail of slick on your backside. One of his large hands planted itself on the left side of your head, his dominant hand guiding himself back into your waiting cunt. An indulgent groan tumbled from his mouth when he bottomed out again. His weight settled on top of you, trapping you under his imposing form. 

Gator planted his knees that bracketed your hips, but instead of drilling into you, he opted for a languid roll of his hips. This left you feeling every thick, veiny inch of his cock claim you over and over again. With each press, your cries of pleasure became louder. Though no one would be able to hear you between the distance and the storm, his right hand clamped over your mouth. He could feel the soft, warm pants warm his palm and used it to set the tempo of his thrusts. 

You took deep breaths through your nose, vision hazy as Gator continued to fuck you stupid. He breathily chuckled into your ear, “You can hardly keep your head up, you’re so fucked out, mama. Mmm, you gonna let me cum inside? Gonna let a creep like me fill your pussy?” 

It took all your focus to barely just nod your head, but it was enough of a sign for Gator. His other hand moved up to cover your eyes, leaving your senses heightened. It was all so much: each grunt into your ear, the weight of him pushing you into the mattress, and the way the head of his cock deliciously punctuated each stroke with endless pleasure. Any sense of time was gone, and you felt almost weightless as the euphoria spread through your body. This was far past a casual fuck between you; it was nearly animalistic lust. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” he repeated like a mantra. Gator was determined to feel your pussy spasm and gush around him before he reached his own release. He was approaching his edge quickly, and he knew you were right there with him, “C’mon, mama, I wanna hear you scream.”

His hand fell away as your wanton moans filled the room once more. You could hardly think past the first syllable of his name, much less form the words. But Gator knew that each soft glottal was intended to be a cry of his name. Each strangled noise was louder than the last, until a profane sob erupted from you. The white heat flushed through your body, leaving you shaking beneath him while Gator began to unravel. Your name left his lips like a prayer as he stilled, spilling his seed deep inside. 

Catching his breath, Gator rocked his hips a few more times, allowing himself to soften before pulling out. He rolled off of you, his back hitting the mattress. He raised one hand to yank the mask off, then discarded it over the side of the bed. It gently rattled against the floor, interrupting the patter of your breath. 

“I’ll buy you a plan B tomorrow,” his chest rose and fell with each heavy breath. His head lulled over to check on you, not liking the quiet. Gator’s brown eyes darted over your flustered features, senses slowly coming back to you. The corner of his lip twitched upward, clearly satisfied with himself. If you weren’t in such a state of exhaustion, you probably would’ve thrown a pillow at his head for his words and cocky gaze. 

Gator felt the subtle shift of your arm reaching out for him. He took the signal, tugging your frame into his side. His arm tucked itself around your shoulder, while the other pulled the blankets over both of you. The press of your forehead to his chest finally slowed his breathing down from the high. Maybe it wasn’t soft for the right person, but it was one of the gentler moments you had with him. He made no additional move to kiss or soothe you; he just held you to his side. “Go to sleep, we’ll get cleaned up in the morning.”

💌 a/n: so that was crazy... hope you enjoyed!