I write Smut & Pretty things, Fil-Am baddie 🇵🇭, old enough, Pedro Pascal, Joe Quinn, Joe Keery, 18+, Other Account: @exquisiteserotoninreplies | AO3 She/Her
Welcome to my master list of works. I had to revamp this considering the additional characters I am and will be writing for. Watch this space, follow along. This may change again soon as I am working on it when I have time.
As you can see here I have written and will write for the following: Johnny Storm, Eddie Munson, Geta, Michael (Hoard), Eric (AQPDO), Enjolras, Steve Harrington, Gator Tillman, Keys (Free Guy), Baron (Marmalade), Dave York, Joel Miller, Dieter Bravo, Mr. Ben (SNL)
Started: 08/01/2023
Last updated: 06/05/2026
Legend: 🔥- Smut | 💞 - Fluff | 💔 Angst
GATOR TILLMAN
I'll Make You Feel Again Series 💞(eventual🔥) (updated 05/29/2026)
Rating: I feel like it's fine for most, but my blog is really 18+
Word Count: 1042
Summary: Eddie and his pregnant wife (baby mama) have a sweet moment as she paints the most badass nursery mural for any baby that ever existed.
Warnings: Implied intimacy, but overall really just a lot of sweetness. Again reader is pregnant, so if that's not your thing don't read.
A/N: I did this as a fic exchange and I was supposed to have it done in March. Work, life, and travel happened then I got super depressed but I stuck with it and finished. I'm nervous to share because this is for probably the best Eddie Munson writer ever my beautiful friend Sagey @keeryhours
The calm of Eddie's breath tickles the skin on your bare shoulder like notes dancing on lines of sheet music. Ever so slightly, you begin to stir but you stay in bed and pull his arms tighter around you. Feeling his bare skin against yours is a reminder of the euphoria of your bodies intertwined hasn't left you. The gentleness and warmth from the aftercare he gave still lingers on his fingers that now caress the firm and blooming bump that holds your new beginning.
As you shift, Eddie kisses your shoulders with his soft lips until you hear his breaths slow again and until soft snores come from him like gentle purrs. A sudden surge of energy fills you and you wiggle carefully from his sweet embrace so as not to wake him. Before you leave the bed you turn to look at him as he sleeps. The way his full lips are slightly parted and pouted sends flutters to your tummy. An image of your little one, that would certainly be Eddie's mini, forms in your head bathing you in an impossible combination of excitement and peace.
When you're finally able, you tear yourself away to fetch some panties from one of your dresser drawers. After the slipping them on, you find Eddie's favorite Metallica t-shirt. You take every chance you can to wear it when he is not. As he lies blissfully naked in your bed, you seize the opportunity. You pull it over your head and as you drape it over your belly you notice it doesn't fit as loosely as it used to be. The waist hugs your bump ever so slightly. With a gentle embrace of your hands, you cradle your growing belly and look at yourself in the mirror. You can only smile as you feel the joy that fills you when you imagine the day you can hold your baby in your arms.
The afternoon light fills your home with warm hues of gold, orange, and pink. It adds to the peaceful silence that everyone tells you to treasure before the baby comes. You make your way to the nursery, tarps still lining the carpet and closed pails of paint are lined up waiting to be opened.
You've already started the mural: one day of penciling the outline of bats, dragons, and a bad ass baby riding his own personal dragon and another of getting started with painting the epic night sky filled with swirling clouds and epic blue lightning.
You grab a mask to protect yourself from the strong smell that lifts into the air when you open the cans of red and gray paint. Taking a dip of a clean brush into the gray paint, you start with smooth strokes over the biggest dragon drawn on the wall. You start with broad strokes of a large brush over dragon's body. When your arm grew tired you reach for a smaller brush that you use for more precision work. In a perfect relevé, you reach high above you to begin details on the dragon's head. You pause and let out a huff of breath as you take a step back to look at your work. There's still a long way to go but in your mind's eye you see yourself and Eddie dancing around with the sweetest baby in the nursery of your dreams.
"So that's where my shirt went…again!"
You hear Eddie's voice fill the room, a warm and comforting lilt dances through every word that leaves his lips. A lightness floats through your entire body: a physical response to his presence. As you set your paint brush down and pull your mask from your face, you skip to him and wrap your arms around his neck. Your growing belly presses against his torso as you nearly lose yourself in the glimmer of his big, round, brown eyes. Even after all these years together, looking into his eyes still sends goosebumps up and down your body.
"It's just so comfy," you offer him a playful pout and a scrunch of your nose that he melts for every single time you do it. "It's obviously a little snugger than it used to be but, I promise I won't ruin it."
"Ruin it?" Eddie utters shaking his as though your statement is utter ridiculousness. "You've always made it look better than I ever could."
You could try to argue with him and sometimes you do it because you think it's cute when he fights back. Yet all you can feel is how sore your cheeks are from how big he makes you smile. His guitar-string calloused fingers lace through your waves, pushing them away from your face. The corner of his beautiful lips curl into a smirk that some people consider cocksure especially if they don't know him. But you know it's just him: wonderfully and perfectly him. Happiness flutters through you like butterflies flitting from flower to flower. His eyes practically sparkle as he beams at you. And his hands move down your shoulders and down to your waist until they find your derriere giving it a cheeky and loving squeeze.
His nose nuzzles yours before his lips pull yours towards his with their own magnetic force. His lips: perfectly soft. His kiss: perfectly firm. And the smallest slip of tongue he uses to part your lips are the perfect blend of sweetness and passion. Every touch he gives you still brings out a giggle of the purest joy. He holds you close as his brown eyes shine in awe at the mural that's still only begun to take shape.
"Our little guy is gonna look up at that wall and realize just how much of a badass his mom is."
"It helps to have a muse that's just as much of a badass."
"Luckiest kid in the world," Eddie says, his voice softens as his arms hold you in the warmest and tightest embrace.
Your heart beats steadily with the calm and slow in and out motions of his breath. You bury and nuzzle your head against his chest, breathing him in before looking up to give him one sweet peck on the lips.
Well...today was a litte better...until the end of the day. But you know what it's almost the end of the week.
Djune 3rd: What is your favorite Djo album?
I bet a lot of people think I'm going to say The Crux....
But, it's not....
It's actually
Why? There's just something about it. It has a lot of amazing callbacks to artists I love. And the D-Sides! Baby the D-SIDES! The album definitely gets me moving!
Well I had a shitty past two days and I figured why not do this fun little event @keithvalentinex is doing for Djune. Might not do them all, but at least here's the first two days.
Yesterday Djune 1st, my favorite Djoling.
Well...here he is and it's probably pretty obvious,
Gator Tillman
Why? He's complex, pathetic...and I could fix him.
Djune 2, the first Djo song I knew (not End of Beginning)
Well the first Djo song I ever knew was in fact Chateau, which I promptly added to a playlist of mine on September 12, 2019.
And honestly....it was the first time I ever really noticed him at all despite being a huge Stranger Things fan from the start (whispers: I didn't like Steve at first) Hearing it made me realize what a real talent he is! <3
Pairing: Gator x Fem!Reader (orientation & mobility specialist)
Rating: HERE WE GO E! For EXPLICIT! It's the moment we have all been waiting for (I think?)
Warnings/Tropes/Other things: Friends to lovers, minor angst, disability representation, SMUT...FINALLY
Summary: You've been avoiding Gator after your kiss. You gather enough courage to talk to him about it anxious to where it might lead.
Word Count: 4.2K
Taglist (if you would like to be added let me know): @cycat-carisi @superfreaksteve @onlyangel-444 @ilikeappleandbanana @foreverserving @bluegardenn @keer-y @knights0fkylo @redvelvetcupcke1 @softlypaleprodigy @1039290382829
A/N: Also thank you so much for being so patient in waiting for the next part. It means so much to me. I hope you enjoy this installment. Sorry for this not being beta-read! I really wanted to get it to you all! <3
You lie in bed looking up at the ceiling, it's been three days since you've spoken to Gator. It's out of your routine. Normally, you'd call him at least two days before your next visit with him. You know he's become accustomed to your phone calls. You can always tell by the way he answers the phone. It's something you've become accustomed as well. It's always teasing and it's always comfortable:
Who told you it was OK to call me this early?
You...again?
It's about damn time.
And of course, your most favorite of all:
You rang, sweetheart?
And tomorrow. Tomorrow would be the day you would typically see him. Yet, you still haven't called. The way you miss hearing the sound of his voice is terrible. Even more terrible is the desire to call him when a crippling anxiety, fear, and confusion keeps you from doing so. You know you have to; you promised him. But what is waiting on the other side of that call? You battle with the intense need to know but also with a fear that's paralyzed you since Gator kissed you. Did he still like you? Did he hate you? Or is it worse?
You roll over in your bed and bury your face into your pillow to muffle your frustrated scream. In truth, it makes you feel better, even if just a little bit. Sometimes screaming into the void is the best thing anyone can do. After that release, you sit up and take your phone from the nightstand. You didn't even need to scroll through to find his number in your phone. You've never told him, but he's saved in your favorites. It made no sense to ruminate any longer and with a tap of your finger you start your call.
He doesn't answer immediately and though it's not surprising it's also not any less nerve wracking. You helped him set up the voice assistance on his phone to make sure it announces who is calling. The only uncertainty that remains is whether or not he answers. A shock to your heart zaps you when you unexpectedly hear the mellifluous voice of a woman on the other end.
"Hello, this is Gator's phone," she greets politely.
One beat. Two beats. One gasp of breath. That's how long it takes for you to realize it's Dot.
"Hello? Dot, is that you?" You can't hide the surprise and confusion that holds fast to your voice.
"Yeah, hi, how are you?" She adds gently.
"Um, yeah, so I was just calling to let Gator know that I'm coming over tomorrow," you explain with a gulp. "Um…I mean…if that's still OK?"
"Tomorrow?" You hear her pause and you just know she repeats it to relay the message to Gator.
Your heart sinks. He doesn't even want to speak to you. You can easily turn this around and be angry at him with how childish he's being, but you can't blame him. You left with him with confusing thoughts in your head that you are certain he shares, too.
"Tomorrow is fine," Dot finally answers you.
An anxiety inducing silence overwhelms you as you try to think of what to say next. There are so many words you want to get out and you can't seem to utter any of them.
"And you're still coming to see Scotty's pageant this weekend?" Dot asks, a sweet sincerity in every word. "She really, really would like for you to come."
"Are you sure? I really don't want to impose."
"Scotty really likes you," she adds in a quiet but emphatic voice, "and everything's squared away with you picking Gator up."
Surprise silences you and forces you to find an appropriate response. You clear your throat.
"Oh yeah?" You know you sound stupid. Or cold. Or stupid and cold. But you couldn't bear it if showing even a little bit of excitement would only lead you down a path of disappointment.
"Yep we were just discussing it before you called," Dot assures you.
It's as though she senses your need for the assurance. You want so badly to believe her.
"I'm sure you and Gator will talk the details tomorrow."
"Ok, thanks Dot," you say taking a deep breath.
"Oh…hold on a second," Dot adds and you hear some shuffling coming from the other end.
"Um, hey," the sound of Gator's voice on the other end nearly makes you gasp, "so, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Y—yeah, yes, of course," you say a little too quickly. "Do you need me to bring anything? "
"No," Gator replies with a simple answer, "just you."
There is no particular tone or cadence in his voice. Not anything you can decipher or try to read into anyway. But the words…the words hold a myriad of meanings and a myriad of possibilities.
"Ok," you pause formulating more words in your mind, "Gator, can I just—"
He cuts you off before you can speak another word, "Hey, we'll talk tomorrow, OK?"
"Oh…ok then."
And that is it. Silence again on the other end after he ends the call. It leaves you with an entire day and a sleepless night to overthink everything before you see him again.
Gator attunes his senses to everything around him as he waits for you. He starts to make his way to the door as soon as he hears you pulling into the driveway. He opens the door and waits for you, leaning against the doorway.
With one long inhale and then exhale, you open the door. It's only been a little over a week and seeing him again feels like fresh air in your lungs. And yet, you feel so nervous as you see him stand there. You shuffle your feet beneath you as you stand next to your truck, gathering enough courage to go to him.
"Hey," you say as you approach the foot of his steps, "do you want to go for a walk?"
He pushes himself to stand up straight and confidently takes his cane in front of him. You hold out your hand ready to help when he needs it. He glides one hand down the railing on his own to guide himself. A bittersweet pride fills you at the realization that as he becomes more independent the less he needs you.
The cold air flushes your cheeks as you start down the sidewalk in silence. Both of you take in the sounds around you: the morning chorus of the birds singing in the trees, the way the breeze whistles through the leaves along with them, and the whooshing of vehicles as they cruise by you in the street. The breeze carries your perfume to his nose and nearly stops him in his tracks.
"Listen," he breaks through the silent that fills an invisible space in between the sounds that surround you, "I'm sorry about the other day—I wasn't thinkin' and I thought, well,—I don't know what I was thinkin'."
"I'm sorry, too," you feel an obligation to agree despite being more confused than ever. "Maybe I over stepped my boundaries."
Gator ruffles his hair back with one hand and shrugs, "I guess? I mean you know better than I do."
The tone he takes only serves to make you feel even more confused. As you continue around the block and loop up a side straight the silence grows louder in the space between the two of you. Gator digs one hand in his pocket while he scans and sweeps the ground ahead of him with his cane.
"Can we just stop?" You say stopping in your tracks as you let out a sigh of frustration.
Gator can sense your frustration down to his very core. It's enough to make him shake with frustration of his own.
"Goddamn it what you do you mean?" He huffs as he turns to you.
"Can't we just start over?"
His lips turn downward as he nods his head. The way he crosses his arms and tightens his jaw tells you more than any of his words can say.
"So, like pretend nothing happened is what you mean?"
God he could be so frustrating, you think.
"That is not what I meant," you assert as you furrow your brow and cross your arms over your chest, a mirror to him. "Why are you being such a jerk?"
He scoffs at your words, tilting his head back to release a gruff sigh into the cold December air. He walks forward a few steps before turning back to you.
"I think it's time for me to go home," he says but gestures towards the sidewalk ahead of both of you. "If it's not too much trouble could you lead the way."
His words drip with the pettiest sarcasm and it only intensifies the irritation that buzzes beneath your skin. And because of it, you remain still, feet planted on the ground. You know you're being stubborn but you can't help it.
"So, you're just not going to answer me?" You question him.
"Fuck," he growls, sweeping his cane across the sidewalk before he starts back towards his house. "I'm not fucking do this."
He walks ahead with the utmost caution, tapping his cane in front of him. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as the conflict vibrates beneath your skin. As he walks ahead you can't help but notice how he tries to remain cautious of his surroundings all while trying to storm away. The sight tugs at your heart and you can't help but rush ahead to him even if it means you get him safely to his door before rushing away again.
Gator notices you next to him and chooses silence. He can tell that he's close to home when he feels a light touch of your hand to his elbow, guiding him to steps that lead to his door. He unlocks it without a word, leaving you at the bottom of his steps.
"So that's it? You're just going to leave it at that?!" You exclaim as he opens his door.
You just want to fight. You know it's wrong, but you can’t hold anything back anymore.
"We're not making a scene out here," he says plainly, "we can talk inside."
The corners of your lips quiver as you fight the urge to rush through his door.
"Oh, sure you don't want to make a scene," your fingers wave into air quotes that he can't even see as you emphasize every word, "that's really rich coming from you."
He shifts weight so he's leaning against the door. His body language and posture are collected yet demanding. His breaths are deep and heavy in his chest as he presses his head back against the door. The tightness in his jaw is visibly tense all the way to his neck and acts like an invisible zipper to your lips.
"Get in the house…now."
The way the words leave his lips is as even and firm as his stance. Your breath quickens deep within you. You're grateful he can't see how your chest is heaving in a steady up and down motion. In the heat of your disagreement, the most intrusive thought enters your mind. He looks too damn good. And as if by a force that's greater than you both, you step forward and walk up the stairs.
He feels your presence next to him and he shifts a step to let you inside. As he closes the door behind him, you don't cower. He doesn't make you feel small, like most men have made you feel in the past. You witness as a look of desperation fills his very being when he leans his back against his door.
"So how am I the one running, when it was you who did that exact thing last week, huh?" Gator questions, his hands settling at his hips.
"I didn't—," you begin, your words faltering, "I was--"
"Nervous? Scared?" He interjects.
"What? Like those aren't valid feelings?!" Your reply is swift.
And his is just as immediate ,"Oh no, they're valid because I'm feeling them, too! Fuck!"
The exasperation that reveals itself in his honesty provokes an unexpected silence within you. You watch every move his body, from the way he repeatedly runs his hands through his hair before placing them on his hips to the pacing of his feet beneath him.
"Do you even know how crazy you've made me feel since the last time you left?" He exclaims.
"Well, I have a feeling you're going to tell me!" You can't help but answer back.
"Can't you just let me finish?" His words to you leave him as soon as you finish. "Even when you left, I still felt you."
The words are like a dart straight to your heart. It amazes you how he manages to make you speechless when you want to say so much.
"Every single time you leave, I still feel you here," he confesses as he shakes his head, feeling almost embarrassed by the vulnerability he can't seem to hide from you. "And it's—"
A feeling stirs deep within your core and you rush to him, grasping his face with a touch of your hands. Every word of his confession is worthy of the kiss you press to his lips. He falters from the shock of your gesture. Despite this, you can't let him go. You feel your chest heave as you kiss him until it leaves you breathless.
Gator's mind spins as you kiss him like it's the last thing you'll ever do. He can scarcely believe it as you push his coat off his shoulders and discard it to the floor.
"Fuck," he sighs when you finally let him go.
There's no doubt as to the inevitability of what's about to happen. With a gentle touch your fingers tiptoe at his waist until your caressing the soft skin of his stomach. His breath and body quivers as you pull his T-shirt over his head.
The anticipation is broken by a subtle gasp from his full lips brought on by the touch of your finger tips against his skin. He's lean and muscular and the feeling of chest hair is a luxury you didn't know you needed. Your hands rest there, feeling the up and down of his breaths and the pumping of his heartbeat. You pull Gator close to you as you climb your hands up to his shoulders and then to his face, where you pull him forward again for another, deeper kiss.
Gator revels how his entire body reacts to your touch. Though something in the back of his mind still needs convincing, he moves his hands down to your waist pulling your hips into his pelvis. He would grip you harder if he could. He's been drowning so long in a sea of criticism, shame, and disappointment with no way to come up for air. Until you. His hands grip your hips with the deepest desperation. The only hope he has strengthens when he clings to you: the life preserver of his life.
With breathless anticipation, you lead him to sit back on the couch. He waits as you pull your t-shirt over your head and discard it to the floor. You slide your jeans down your hips, kicking them to the side before you place your legs on either side of his straddling his lap.
"Fuck," he moans his large, firm hands roaming up your bare thighs until they find your hips and ass.
Your supple and velvet-soft skin beneath and between his fingers lights up every nerve in his body. The way you rock your pelvis in his lap coaxes a whimper from him. He rises for you and his jeans grow taut as he throbs against the constraining fabric. On instinct, you rock your pelvis against his feeling him grow against the flimsy fabric of your panties. With deft hands, you unhook your bra and toss it to the floor before pulling him close.
Gator roams his hands up your waist, his head spinning at the beautiful and intoxicating scent of your body. You feel his warm breath against your chest as he tilts his head upward to you. He's gorgeous like this. Eager. Desperate. Yearning. His face softens with expectancy and a wordless expression that asks permission for what he so desperately wants to do next. You pull him close as your response, feeling his pillowy soft lips travel against your skin until they reach your nipples.
He can't wait and is taken over by the desperate need to taste you. His tongue flattens at his first taste and your entire body shudders as he continues. He swirls his tongue against the pebbled skin, where you become pert and responsive with each luxurious motion he makes.
"Gator," you whine as he wraps his arms tightly around you like a prized possession he's not willing to let go.
"Mmm," he moans, growing more and more intoxicated by your scent and your taste. "Baby, you taste good."
His voice is deep and smooth as he speaks. His words rumble through the concourse of your body until they reach and light up every part of your core.
The overwhelming desire, no, the overwhelming need to make him feel everything takes. He surrenders to the tender touch of your lips against his. He allows himself to settle into the way your fingers run through his hair while you explore his lips and mouth with a gentle push of your tongue.
Gently, you push yourself off his lap to slide down his body. The warmth of your chest against his chest coaxes a shudder of anticipation as you settle your legs between his legs. You draw a trail of kisses that start at his lips to his chest where you revel in how his chest rises and falls. His breaths are sharper and quicker as he feels your hungry kisses at his happy trail stopping just before the waistband of his jeans.
"I just want to make you feel good," you say with a voice so low and so sweet that draws low moan.
The way your soft fingers work slowly and deliberately at unbuttoning his jeans is deliciously antagonizing. He feels how your gentle hands pull at them. He lifts his hips slightly off the couch making it easier for you to pull them off along with his boxer briefs.
"Oh my god," your marvel at how his thick cock stands at full attention for you, quivering in desperation. "You're so big Gator."
Normally, he'd smirk and have a quick and arrogant response about how he already knows how big he is. But, he couldn't with you. The way those words leave your lips is an affirmation he never knew he needed until this very moment. His thoughts swirl and ricochet against the boundaries of his mind and the anticipation of the touch of your lips at the tip of him takes his breath away.
"Oh fuck," he groans as you wrap your lips around him slowly taking more of him into your mouth.
You slowly draw him in savoring first hints of his arousal leave him to light up every taste bud on your tongue. Every ridge of him slides and throbs against your lips as you take more and more of him in, until the tip of him reaches the back of your throat. The whimper that leaves him, the desperation slipping away as he allows himself to feel every touch of your hand working on him and the inhale you take as your head bobs up and down against this hard length.
"Holy shit, baby!" He gasps, a shaky whimper escaping him.
With one hand he grips the soft upholstery of the couch between his fingers while his other palm rests against your soft tresses. You moan as your hunger for him grows and you move faster in your goal of getting him to lose all control in you. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum. The drum of his heart is rapid against his chest as his legs, torso, and his entire body begins to quiver in response.
"Fuck, sweetheart," he moans and breaths sharp, as he begs for you to stop. "I wanna come but not like this!"
You take your mouth from him licking one last stroke up his shift, as he twitches still so full and hard for you. As he tries to catch his breath, you stand and removing the only barrier that is keeping you from joining him completely.
"You're right, not like this," you sigh in agreement as you straddle yourself over his beautiful body, "this way."
His mouth drops in disbelief as you center yourself over him and he feels your wet opening at the weeping tip of his cock. With a loud gasp of combined relief and ecstasy, he feels you lower yourself onto him and his hands fly to your hips with the strongest of grips as you move against him. He throws his head back releases a moan into the air as you squeeze around him with a tight embrace of your walls. Your own whimper reaches his ears like a song as you feel him throb and grow inside you.
"Fuck, you're so tight!" He exclaims, his voice rattling without constraint.
The words carry the encouragement that brings you to roll your hips and bounce against him squeezing him tighter and tighter to feel every ridge and vein of him pulsate with a steady rhythm. Every warm quiver that you feel inside you grows progressively stronger, shaking you from your core to your legs, up your abdomen and to your chest.
How could this possibly get any better?
The thought is brief and as if reading your mind and understanding your body, you are met with the best argument his body can provide. His hands knead against the plush skin of your ass as he heaves into you with as much might as his hips can muster.
"Ohmygod!" You gasp so fast, the words come out as one and tears of pure pleasure leaping from the corners of your eyes. "You feel so good."
The feeling of your hands bracing themselves firmly against his torso along your moans and whimpers are a plea he is more than happy to oblige. And so he thrusts into you again, again, and again. Through quickening breaths, you manage to beg for more.
"Gator, please don't stop!" The breathless sob you make drifts sweetly to his ears as you beg with a final, strong rock of your pelvis against him.
The desperation of your plea permeates through every squeeze of you around his cock. He pounds into you the way you both need: messier, faster, and unrestrained with each pump. You arch your back and throw your head back as his arms around tightly around your waist.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he pants his entire body beginning to shake. "Sweetheart?"
His face turns up to you, his brows furrowed and begging for an answer, for your permission.
"It's ok, come inside, please," you nod through every panting breath, "wanna feel all of you."
Faster than you speak the words, Gator is shaking and driving into you with all of his strength, all his heart, all that he has. You wrap yours him so tightly against your chest that he can taste the sweetness of your skin, feel the perspiration that gathers there, and he feels your pounding heartbeat. Together, you quake and cry prayers of each other's names as Gator empties into you. The way you throb and close yourself around him coaxes every bit of his heat to paint your walls.
The echo of your breaths is the only sound that reverberates against the walls, wrapping around you as Gator pulls you tight to rest his head against your chest. The sound of your heartbeat drifts to his ears as his perspiration intermingles with yours. The subtle and sweet scent of your perfume unites with delicate dew that rests on your soft skin bewitches him in a way no potion ever could. You squeeze each other tighter, even as Gator softens inside you, neither of you wanting to experience the feeling of your union ending.
Gator tilts his head up towards you and submits to the gentle caress of your fingers through his hair.
"What now?" His voice holds an apprehension as he waits for any words to leave your lips.
"I don't know Gator," you reply, somehow still not able to believe what's just transpired. “Can we just stay like this for a little while?”
With gentle hands you explore the beauty of his face before pulling it to yours. Gator feels the heat of your breath danceing on his lips. A quiet and pleading whimper escapes him as he brings a gentle hand to cup your face. You lean into his warm touch that turn into even warmer caresses. He nods in agreement. The feeling of your naked body against his along with the hope of feeling your walls close tightly around him again and again is all he needs in this moment. He nuzzles his gorgeously prominent nose against yours, sealing the feeling with a kiss.
Oops I forgot to make a masterlist page for this series. So here we are.
Characters: Gator Tillman x Fem!Reader
Summary: Gator has been working with you as his orientation and mobility specialist for a few months now. You love your job, but he doesn’t make it easy. As you grow to understand and trust each other more, the easier things become. But are either of you ready for where this road seems to be leading?
Warnings/themes/tropes: Some angst, discussion of loss of eyesight-nothing graphic, strong language, disability representation, this is kinda fluffy but WILL lead to smutty times
Rating: Mature 18+, MDNI due to eventual smut
A/N: This is my first foray into writing a Joe Keery character. Ngl…scared bc he’s so well loved. This is Post-canon Gator Tillman and so I feel like he has room to grow in ways he hasn’t before.
More after the cut
Part 1 (5.4k)
Even after a few months as Gator’s orientation and mobility specialist he still acts like a little shit. The more patient you are with him, new feelings arise that he’s never allowed himself before.
Part 2 (4.3 K ) ADDED TODAY!!!
During an outing for a community based session amongst the Christmas shoppers at the Galleria, Gator starts to feel more comfortable, open and vulnerable with you. While shopping, you have an unexpected meeting with an unexpected invitation.
Geta with big brown eyes, indescribable amounts of horniness, and generalized anxiety disorder 🤝 Me with big brown eyes, indescribable amounts of horniness, and generalized anxiety disorder
hey ! when the third chapter of « i’ll make you feel again » (i don’t remember the exact name) gonna come out ?
Oh my gosh, thank you so much for asking! I promise it's coming soon! I am in fact writing a really, really exciting part for me. And I hope to finish it soon!
I got hit with the worst writer's block and was a little depressed for a while. But I promise it's coming soon! My goal is to be by the end of next week!
