StoneyGGirl2

This here is my backup account.. anyways .. It’s basically smut from here on in.. mixed with music and bands that I love.. my main account is :- @StoneyGGirl… *I don’t do destiel AT ALL* in my 40’s for all those who are asking or curious .. from AUS :)

[acecroft]

Steve Harrington in STRANGER THINGS 4.08

[emziess]

Joe Keery as Steve Harrington Stranger Things, S05

[onlyharrington]

TOP 5 STEVE OUTFITS (as voted for by you) #4 (41.5% of votes)

[stoneyggirl2]

Loooooordddddd 🥵🫠

[userdjokeery]

[allheremixed]

Steve Harrington

[stvswrld69]

lying to my therapist

pairing: steve harrington x reader summary: after a bad breakup, you start therapy to fix your intimacy issues. your new therapist, steve harrington, is younger than expected and far too way attractive. what starts as professional help slowly turns into something more complicated and probably forbidden. wc: 8.9k warnings: porn with plot, +18 (minors do not interact), explicit nsfw, therapist / client relationship, thigh riding, cheating mention, fingering, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), creampie, dirty talk, female masturbation, semi-public if you squint, internal conflict, p in v, consensual sex, kinda forbidden sex, big dick steve. author's note: hihiii sorry for not posting tysm for 490+ followers and ty ani for the idea & nic for the help. i have a lot of exams but i wanted to post this before locking in and coming back with all requests and fics <3 love yall

four years. that's how much time passed since the night marcus –your now ex– broke up with you.

the breakup with him didn’t happen because you were unavailable. it happened because he was a lying cheating piece of shit.

and the memory still lingered like a bruise that refused to fade completely.

you found out a random tuesday evening. a mutual friend posted a story on instagram: nothing dramatic, just a casual photo for a party the previous weekend. in the background, clear as day, you saw him with his tongue down another girl’s throat.

the same weekend he told you he was ‘’too tired to hang out’’ and needed ‘’space.’’

you confronted him the next night when you two went out to have dinner. you played your role perfectly; laughing at his jokes and leaning at the right moments.

you were good at faking. you always had been.

you wanted to talk about that, and when you did, he didn’t even try to lie.

‘’yeah. i slept with her. so what? you’re never really present anyway. you’re always halfway out the door emotionally.’’

you tried not to cry. not in public. not in such a luxurious restaurant. you were about to speak, but he interrupted you.

‘’maybe if you actually talked to me instead of acting like some mysterious untouchable girl… i wouldn’t have needed to find pleasure in someone else.’’

his words were cruel, but the betrayal burned deeper than the insult.

you had let him in more than most. you shared pieces of yourself you usually kept hidden. and he rewarded that vulnerability by cheating you and then blaming you for it. 

that night you drove home in silence, your hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles turned white. you didn’t cry until you took a shower. 

the hot water was burning your skin as reality settled in: trusting someone backfired spectacularly.

after marcus, something inside you shifted.

you stopped believing that real intimacy could be safe. 

every man who showed interest felt like a potential traitor. every sweet word sounded like manipulation waiting to happen. every touch made you wonder what that guy was hiding behind that smile.

you still went on dates. you still flirted effortlessly and still let men take you home and fuck you. but you never truly let them close.

the second things started feeling real –the second a conversation turned vulnerable, when sometime tried to stay the night and hold you, or even when a touch became too tender– you disconnected. you left your own body and watched everything from above.

years passed like this.

a string of shallow relationships that never lasted more than a few weeks. you became an expert at keeping people a comfortable distance while making them believe they were close. 

but you never stayed. not emotionally at least.

your best friend watched this cycle repeat itself with growing worry and frustration. she was there the night you found out about him cheating. she held you while you cried angry tears. and she was tired of seeing her best friend never letting anyone in.

one afternoon, after you mentioned yet another guy who slowly ghosted you after a few dates, she sat you down on her couch with two glasses of wine and a look that said she wasn’t going to let you dodge the conversation this time.

‘’i love you more than anything in this world,’’ she started quietly. ‘’but i can’t keep watching you destroy any chance of real connection because of what he did to you four years ago. you deserve to feel something.’’

you tried to brush it off with some humor, but she wasn't having it.

‘’you need therapy,’’ she said. ‘’you’re so scared and that fear is costing you years of your life. just go to one session. if you hate it, i’ll never bring it up.’’

‘’i don’t need therapy,’’

‘’yes, you do. you think you’re fine because you can still flirt and get guys, but you’re not fine. you’re lonely when you’re with someone.’’

you let out a bitter laugh.

‘’i’m not scared. i’m smart. after what marcus did, why the hell would i let someone in again? so they cheat on me and then blame me for having trust issues? no, thanks.’’

‘’not every man is marcus. but you’ll never know that if you keep pushing everyone away before they even have a chance. you deserve to feel safe with someone. you deserve to be loved and not just desired.’’

you looked away.

‘’i’m handling it.’’ you repeated stubbornly.

‘’you’re not handling it,’’ your friend said softly. ‘’you’re surviving. there’s a difference.’’

she slid a small business card across the table toward you.

hawkins behavioral health.

you didn’t book the appointment right away.

for nearly three weeks, the small business card your best friend gave you sat in your kitchen like a quiet accusation. every time you went to drink water, you saw it. every night you came exhausted from work, it was still there.

at first, you ignored it completely.

you told yourself you didn’t need therapy. but the words felt thinner every time you repeated them.

you started researching the place anyway – mostly out of boredom, you convinced yourself. hawkins behavioral health had a clean website and good reviews. 

but one name kept appearing with particularly strong feedback: dr. steve harrington.

you read review after review.

‘’he actually sees you. doesn’t just nod and write things down.’’

‘’first therapist who called me out on my bullshit in the kindest way possible.’’

‘’made me feel safe enough to be honest.’’

you closed the browser more than once, annoyed at yourself for even considering it.

then came the date with tyler. a guy you met.

it was supposed to be casual, just drinks at a nice bar. he was charming, successful, and funny. 

on paper, he was perfect. in reality, he spent most of the night talking about himself.

when you finally opened up a little, he didn’t seem to care. but there was a specific comment that hurt.

‘’guys don’t want to deal with a bunch of emotional baggage, you know?’’

the comment stung more than it should have.

later that night, when he kissed you outside the bar and invited you back to his place, you went. but the entire time you felt hollow. you two didn’t even kiss there, just talked at night and he let you stay to sleep.

the next morning you drove home in silence. when you walked into the apartment, the little business card was still on the counter. you picked it up, turned it over in your hands for a long time, and finally sighed.

‘’fuck it,’’ you whispered.

you called hawkins behavior health that same afternoon and booked an appointment for the following thursday.

the day of your first session arrived faster than you expected. 

you spent the entire morning convincing yourself you could still cancel. you changed outfits three times and almost turned the car around twice on the way there.

but somehow, you ended up walking through the front doors of the building.

the reception area was warm and comforting, with soft lightning and exposed brick walls. behind the desk stood a woman with short brown hair and energetic presence. 

her name tag read: robin buckley – office coordinator.

she looked up and gave you a bright welcoming smile.

‘’hi! you must be the 4:30. first time with us?’’ you nodded, gripping the strap of your bag a little too tightly.

robin’s smile softened, sensing your nerves.

‘’totally normal to feel anxious. everyone is on their first visit.’’ she typed something on her computer. ‘’you’re here to see dr. harrington, right?’’

‘’yes.’’

‘’he’s really good,’’ she said kindly. ‘’a little young for a psychologist, but perceptive. something annoyingly so, but don’t tell him i told you that.’’ she gave you a playful wink. ‘’just be honest with him. he can candle the truth.’’

she printed some forms and handed them to you.

‘’fill these out and i’ll let him know you’re him. deep breath. you’ve got this.’’

ten minutes later, robin returned and led you down a quiet hallway lined with plants. 

she stopped in front of a wooden door and gave you one last encouraging smile.

‘’dr. harrington? your 4:30 is here.’’

you took a deep breath and stepped inside.

the office was nothing like you had imagined. it didn’t feel clinical or cold. warm afternoon light poured through tall windows, bathing the room in a soft golden hue. 

one wall was lined with tall bookshelves filled with psychology texts, novels, and a few personal items – like a small framed picture of a group of friends, and what looked like a tiny hawkins high keychain hanging from a shelf.

two comfortable deep armchairs faxed each other with a low wooden table between them. a box of tissues on the table and a long couch that looked untouched.

and he was rising from one of the armchairs. steve harrington.

he was younger than you expected even if robin told you before. 

much younger. early twenties, if that. 

he looked tall even if he was sitting, with messy brow hair that looked like he’d run his hand through it several times that day.

and he had warm hazel eyes. big hazel eyes you weren’t able to ignore.

he also wore a brown jacket over a button-up shirt. 

steve looked more like a handsome graduate student than a licensed psychologist.

‘’hi,’’ he said with low warm voice. ‘’i’m steve harrington. you can call me steve if that makes you feel more comfortable. come in, please.”

he gestured toward the empty armchair across from him.

‘’sit however you’d like. there are no rules in this room.’’

you gave him a small smile and sat down, crossing your legs neatly and folding your hands in your lap. you studied him from a moment: the way he moved, the way he looked at you. 

he was annoying attractive. too attractive to be doing this job.

steve sat down across from you, leaning forward slightly with his hands clasped loosely between his knees. he didn’t speak right away. he just looked at you –not staring, but truly paying attention– and it made your skin prickle.

‘’so,’’ he said gently after a few seconds, offering a small smile. ‘’what brings you here today?’’

you let out a soft breath and gave him a smile.

‘’well…. apparently i’m very good at making men want me, but terrible at actually letting them stay.’’ you titled your head a little, letting your gaze linger on his face for a second. ‘’my last boyfriend said i’m emotionally unavailable. among other things.’’

you finished with a light laugh, hoping it would steer the conversation into safer waters.

steve didn’t laugh with you.

he simply watched you with a calm and thoughtful expression. 

after a moment, he talked.

“you started with a joke,” he noted gently. “and a compliment hidden inside it. you smiled while talking about something painful. that’s interesting.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your expression light.

“are you always this direct?”

“well… i’m noticing some things. you are trying to deflect,” he replied but not unkindly. “you’re very good at it. you use charm and humor to keep things from getting serious.”

you felt a flicker of irritation mixed with uncomfortably and nervousness.

“you’re very observant for someone so young,” you said, your tone was still light but with a subtle edge. “does that usually work for you? reading people before they even say anything?”

steve’s mouth twitched into the faintest hint of a smile.

but his eyes remained steady.

“you’re doing it again,” he said softly. “shifting the focus onto me and testing my reactions.” he paused, then added. “it’s okay. we don’t have to rush. this is your space.”

you sat back slightly, studying him.

he was good. too good.

and the fact that he was young somehow made it worse. 

he shouldn’t be this perceptive.

he shouldn’t be able to see through you this easily.

steve waited patiently, giving you time. his presence was calm, steady, and strangely grounding.

those hazel eyes never left yours, but they weren’t intimidating either.

they were patient. kind. like he really had nowhere else he’d rather be.

“so,” he said again. “when you say you’re “terrible at letting people stay”… what does that feel like for you?”

you opened your mouth, ready to give another polished half-joking answer.

but for the first time in a long time, the words got stuck in your throat.

steve didn’t push. he simply waited, watching you with that calm gaze. 

the silent stretched between you, not awkward, but heavy. for once, you didn’t know what to say. you didn’t have a clever line prepared. you didn’t have a flirty deflection ready.

after a long moment, you let out a slow breath and looked down at your hands.

‘’i don’t know how to… stay,’’ you admitted quietly. ‘’when things get real. when someone starts looking too closely. i just… leave. not physically. but emotionally. i go somewhere else in my head. i smile. i say the right things. but i’m not really there.’’

steve nodded slowly, his expression soft but attentive.

‘’that sounds lonely,’’ he said gently. ‘’being with someone but no really being with them.’’

you swallowed hard.

‘’it is,’’ you whispered. ‘’but it’s safer.

steve leaned forward sightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

‘’can you tell me more about that? when did you start feeling the need to protect yourself from the others like this?’’

you hesitated. the memories of your ex came rushing back – his cruel words, the way he blamed you for his own cheating, the humiliation of realizing you tried to be vulnerable with someone who never deserved it.

‘’four years ago,’’ you said, voice quieter now. ‘’i was with someone. i thought i was letting him in. i was trying and he cheated on me. then told me it was my fault and after that… it just felt easier to never let anyone close enough to hurt me again.’’

steve listened without interrupting. you liked that. and his eyes never left your face.

when you finished, he spoke carefully.

‘’so you learned that being vulnerable leads to pain. and now, even when you want connection, your mind and body protect you by disconnecting.’’

you looked up at him, surprised by how gently he said it.

‘’you’re very young to be this good at this,’’ you said, trying to regain some control with a teasing smile.

steve’s lip curved into a faint smile.

‘’and you’re deflecting again,’’ he replied softly, but there was no judgment in his tone. ‘’it’s okay. we’ll work on that. one step at a time.’’

he paused and then asked gently.

‘’when you’re with someone now… physically… what does that disconnection feel like in your body?’’

you shifted in your seat, feeling exposed under his attentive gaze. you hadn't expected him to go there so directly, yet so kindly.

‘’it feels like… im floating,’’ you admitted. ‘’like i can do everything right but i’m not really feeling anything. it’s like automatic.’’

steve nodded slowly, processing your words.

‘’and does that bother you?’’ he asked. ‘’or has it become normal?’’

you stayed silent for a long moment.

‘’.. it bothers me,’’ you finally whispered. ‘’but i don’t know how to stop doing it.’’

he gave you a small nod.

‘’that’s why you’re here,’’ he said gently. ‘’we’re going to figure that out together. no pressure. just honestly, at whatever pace you need.’’

for the rest of the session, steve listened carefully as you spoke. he didn’t interrupt. he didn’t judge. 

he simply asked thoughtful questions and noticed things you hadn’t even realized about yourself; the way you joked when things got heavy, the way you crossed your arms when you felt vulnerable…

by the time the session ended, you felt strangely drained. but also lighter.

steve stood up when the hour was over and gave you a warm smile.

‘’you did really well today,’’ he said. ‘’i know it wasn’t easy. same time next week?’’

you nodded, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and relief. 

as you left his office, you couldn’t stop thinking about how easily he had seen through every wall you tried to put up.

then the days after your first session passed in a strange haze.

you went back to your routine: work, nights with your best friend… but something felt different. lighter, maybe. or perhaps just more aware.

you tried dating again. not because you suddenly believed in love, but because you wanted to prove to yourself (and maybe to steve), that you could try.

his name was daniel. he was kind, funny and worked as a graphic designer. 

he didn’t try too hard. 

on your first date, you talked for almost three hours about music and movies. on the second, he kissed you goodnight outside your car. 

you wanted this to work. 

you returned for the second session. you spent the entire week thinking about steve’s words.

the way he looked at you. the way he actually listened. it was unsettling how much space he was taking up in your mind.

when you walked into his office and steve was already waiting, sitting in his usual chair. he wore a blue polo shirt that made his hazel eyes stand out even more. 

the moment you entered, he gave you a warm smile that made your stomach tighten.

‘’hi,’’ he said. ‘’it’s good to see you again. come in, make yourself comfortable.’’

you sat down in the armchair across from him, crossing your legs and folding your hands in your lap. for a few seconds, you didn’t know where to begin. 

steve waited patiently, as always – never rushing you, never filling the silence.

‘’i’ve been thinking about what we talked about last time,’’ you started quietly. ‘’and… i went out with this guy named daniel. a few times, actually.’’

steve nodded slowly, giving you his full attention.

‘’tell me about that,’’

you took a deep breath.

‘’he’s really kind. patient. he doesn’t pressure me. we talked for hours and he actually listens.’’ you paused, then added more softly. ‘’i wanted it to be different this time. i want to try going somewhere serious with him. not just casual.’’

steve listened, his eyes steady on you. when you finished, he spoke carefully.

‘’that’s a significant step – choosing to try something real with someone after being hurt. how did it feel for you?’’ you looked down at your hands.

‘’at the beginning it was okay. i felt present. but then i slipped away again.’’ you let out a small breath. ‘’i hate that i keep doing that.’’

steve was quiet for a moment, processing your words with care.

‘’what you’re describing is a very common trauma response,’’ he said gently. ‘’after being betrayed by someone you tried to trust, your nervous system learned that vulnerability equals danger. so when intimacy starts to feel real, your mind protects you by dissociating.’’

you looked up at him, surprised by how good he explained it. steve continued.

‘’the fact that you’re aware of it happening is already a progress. most people don’t even notice when they disconnect.’’

his words wrapped around you like a blanket. you felt your cheeks grow warm and you bit your lip. 

‘’thank you,’’ you whispered. steve’s expression softened further.

he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

‘’would you like to practice some grounding exercises? things you can use when you feel yourself starting to flow away?’’

you nodded. and for the next thirty minutes, steve guided you through several exercises with patience and care. his voice was incredibly calm and silky as he spoke.

he watched you practice, his eyes never leaving you.

‘’good,’’ he said when you did it correctly. ‘’that’s really good. you’re picking this up quickly.’’

every time he praised you, even subtly, you felt warmth spread through your chest. you found yourself feeling timid under his attention.

steve remembered details from your previous session and wove them in naturally.

‘’you mentioned last time that you tend to perform because you want others to feel good,’’ he looked at you. ‘’we can work on finding balance.’’

you felt exposed but safe. the way steve spoke made you feel truly seen.

when the session was nearing its end, steve looked at you.

‘’you did really well today,’’ he said softly. ‘’you were honest about something difficult. you let yourself be vulnerable.’’

his praise hit you deeply. you felt your face flush.

you left his office with warm cheeks and the confusing realization that your therapist’s gentle praise was starting to affect you far more than any touch from daniel ever had.

after that, you continued seeing daniel. the relationship –if it could even be called that yet– developed slowly and sweetly. he was consistent in a way that was almost foreign to you. 

but every time the moment leaned toward something more intimate, you gently stopped him.

daniel was always understanding. he’d kiss your forehead and never made you feel guilty. and yet, every time you left his apartment, you felt a quiet frustration with yourself.

you wanted him fully. you wanted to be normal. but something inside you still head back.

in the other way, your therapy sessions with steve became the anchor of your week. you found yourself in that office. steve seemed to look better each time you saw him. 

sometimes it was the way his hair fell across his forehead. 

sometimes it was the soft sweaters that hugged his biceps and shoulders. 

sometimes it was simply the way he looked at you.

the flirting on your part was subtle, almost unconscious. quiet and soft words while tucking your hair behind your ear. 

steve never crossed any lines. 

he remained perfectly professional. but his gaze would linger a second longer than necessary, and his voice would drop into that low silky tone when he praised you.

you told yourself it was nothing. he was just doing his job.

one afternoon, after a particularly long session, you met your best friend for a coffee. the moment you sat down, she studied your face with a knowing look.

‘’so… how are things going with daniel?’’ she asked, cutting into her avocado toast.

you smiled, a small genuine one.

‘’they’re good, actually. he’s really sweet. we’ve been seeing each other a couple times a week. we haven’t slept together yet… but i feel like i might be getting closer to wanting that.’’

her eyes lit up.

‘’that’s great! i’m really happy for you. he sounds like a good guy.’’ you nodded, stirring your coffee.

there was a comfortable pause. then she took a sip of her drink and asked casually:

‘’and how’s therapy going? you haven’t told me much about it lately.’’

you hesitated for a second, then shrugged lightly.

‘’it’s… going well, i think. my therapist is really good. he’s patient, he actually listens, and he explains things in a way that doesn’t make me feel like i’m broken. we’ve working on grounding exercises so i can stay more present, especially with daniel.’’

she raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

‘’tell me more about him. what’s he like?’’

you looked down at your cup, feeling a little shy.

‘’he’s… younger than i expected. really perceptive. he remember everything i tell him. he just helps me understand why i do it.’’

she stayed quiet for a moment. then she leaned forward with a mischievous grin.

‘’okay… i have to confess something. after you told me you started therapy, i got curious and looked him up on google.’’

you blinked. ‘’you what?’’

‘’i googled him,’’ she said, laughing. ‘’dr. steve harrington. i found his profile on the practice’s website and some pictures. girl… he’s ridiculously hot. like, stupidly attractive. i mean… i get why tour sessions feel intense.’’

you felt your face heat up instantly. you looked down at your latte.

‘’he’s just my therapist,’’ you said quickly, trying to sound casual. ‘’he’s professional. really good at his job. that’s all.’’

‘’sure. that’s why you are blushing right now.’’

after that comment, you may have started seeing steve a little bit differently. 

maybe more handsome. 

maybe with more interest.

you tried to think it was just nonsense, that your best friend’s talk was inside your brain.

while waiting in the reception area for your session, you made the mistake of checking the practice's recent google reviews on your phone.

several new ones appeared. from women in their twenties.

one in particular caught your eye:

‘’dr. Harrington is incredible. i’ve never felt so understood in my life. he’s helped me so much with my intimacy issues. 10/10, would recommend to anyone.”

there were several more like that – all women praising how attentive and emotionally available steve was.

your stomach twisted with an ugly feeling you didn’t want to name.

jealousy.

then, as you were sitting in the waiting room, the door to steve’s office opened.

a pretty brunette woman stepped out, smiling brightly. steve followed her to the door, speaking to her in that same gentle, warm tone he used with you.

“see you next week. you did great today.”

she left, laughing at something he said. you felt a sharp pang in your chest.

when Steve turned and saw you waiting, his expression softened immediately.

“hey,” he said warmly. “ready?” 

you forced a small smile and followed him into the office, trying to ignore the uncomfortable knot of jealousy twisting inside you.

you sat down in your usual armchair. steve settled across from you, leaning forward sightly with his elbows on his knees.

‘’how has your week been?’’ he asked softly. 

you hesitated for a moment and opened your mouth to give a vague answer, but steve continued you could speak, his tone calm.

‘’you mentioned last session that you’ve been seeing someone. daniel, right? how are things going with him?’’

the question caught you slightly off guard. he had remembered the name. 

of course he had.

you shifted in your seat, suddenly feeling exposed.

“they’re… going well,” you said carefully. “he’s really kind. patient. we’ve been spending more time together. we talk a lot, we kiss… but we haven’t slept together yet.”

steve listened with complete focus, his eyes never leaving your face. he nodded slowly, processing your words.

“and how do you feel about that?” he asked with a soft voice. “about holding back with him?”

you let out a slow breath.

“i feel guilty sometimes,” you admitted. “he’s a good guy. he deserves someone who can give him everything. but i’m scared. every time things get more physical, i feel myself starting to disconnect again. i don’t want to perform with him… but i don’t know how to stop doing it.”

steve was quiet for a few seconds. His expression remained calm and professional, but you noticed the subtle tension in his jaw and the way his fingers tightened slightly around his pen.

“it makes sense that you’re scared,” he said gently. “after being betrayed by someone you tried to trust, your mind and body learned that intimacy equals danger.”

he paused, then added in that low silky tone he had.

“but I also notice that when you talk about daniel, you describe him as ‘nice’ and ‘kind.’ you don’t talk about desire. about wanting him. does that feel significant to you?”

his question felt more direct than usual. you felt your cheeks warm under his steady gaze.

“i… i don’t know,” you whispered. “maybe I’m still not ready. or maybe i’m comparing how i feel with him to… other things.”

steve’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. he didn’t push further on that comment, but the air in the room felt heavier.

you felt your face flush. you looked down at your lap, unable to meet his eyes. 

a shy, nervous smile formed on your lips as you played with the hem of your sweater and your fingers trembled slightly.

you left his office with the confusing realization that steve’s gentle praise affected you.

and no matter how many times you told yourself he was just being a good therapist. 

the feeling was getting harder to ignore.

another day that daniel texted you asking if you wanted to do something casual. you said yes before you could overthink it.

the night arrived. he was the same as always: easy to talk to, interested in what you said, and never pushy. he brought you flowers –white daisies– and remembered your drink.

when dinner was over, you ended up on his couch. the kissing started slow and sweet. his hands were careful as they slid under your sweater, caressing your back. 

for a while, you stayed present. you felt the warmth of his body, the softness of his lips, the way he whispered how beautiful you were. it felt nice.

but the moment his hand moved lower, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, something inside you tightened.

you pulled back gently, placing a hand on his chest.

‘’daniel… wait,’’ you whispered. he stopped immediately, looking at you with concern.

‘’is everything okay?’’ he asked softly.

you sat up a little, pulling your sweater back down. 

your heart was racing, but not from desire – from anxiety.

‘’i’m sorry,’’ you said quietly. ‘’i thought i was ready, but… i’m not. not tonight.’’

daniel nodded without hesitation. he sat back and gave you a kind, understanding smile.

“that’s completely fine,” he said. “we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. i’m really happy just spending time with you.”

you felt a wave of relief mixed with guilt. 

yet you still couldn’t give him what he probably wanted.

you stayed for a little while longer, talking on the couch, but the atmosphere shifted. 

when you left his apartment that night, you hugged him goodbye and told him you’d text him soon. the drive home was quiet. you felt disappointed in yourself.

by the time you got home, took a shower, and lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the frustration had built up to a breaking point.

now it has been months. months of this same cycle. flirting, dating, getting close, but then freezing or performing the moment things became truly intimate. 

you were tired of it. exhausted.

you arrived at your session feeling a mix of determination and deep embarrassment.

steve was already seated when you walked in. he wore a sweater that made his shoulders look broader. when he saw you, his hazel eyes softened with that familiar warm attention.

“hi,” he said gently. “come in. make yourself comfortable.”

you sat down. steve noticed your body language immediately.

“you seem a little nervous today,” he observed softly. “would you like to tell me what’s on your mind?”

you took a deep breath and decided to be honest.

“i’ve been thinking about what we talked about last time,” you said quietly. “about why i disconnect during sex. i… i want to understand it better. so i can try to fix it with daniel.”

steve nodded slowly, his gaze steady and kind.

“i’m glad you want to explore this,” he said. “to help you, i’m going to ask some personal questions about your sexual experiences. you don’t have to answer anything that makes you uncomfortable. but the more honest you can be, the better i can understand what’s happening and help you work through it. is that okay with you?”

you swallowed hard and nodded. steve kept his voice low and professional.

“when you’re with daniel, or with previous partners… do you feel any physical pleasure at all? or does it become purely mechanical after a certain point?”

your cheeks started burning.

“sometimes… at the beginning,” you whispered. “i feel warmth. tingling. but then it fades. i start focusing on what i should be doing instead of what i’m feeling.”

steve nodded, completely focused on you.

“do you touch yourself when you’re alone?” he asked calmly. “masturbate?”

your face went hot. you looked down at your lap, fingers twisting nervously in your sweater.

“…yes,” you admitted.

“how does that feel compared to sex with someone else?” he asked gently. “do you stay present when you’re touching yourself?”

you bit your lip, feeling incredibly exposed.

“mostly yes,” you whispered. “it’s easier when i’m alone. i can control everything. i don’t have to worry about what the other person is thinking.”

steve’s voice remained soothing.

“that’s very common,” he said. “when you’re alone, there’s no fear of judgment or betrayal. your body feels safe enough to stay present. but when someone else is involved, that safety disappears and your mind protects you by dissociating.”

he paused, then continued.

“when you masturbate… what do you usually think about? do you stay focused on the sensations in your body, or does your mind wander to fantasies?”

your face was burning now. you couldn’t look at him.

“i… try to focus on the sensations,” you mumbled. “but sometimes i fantasize. about… being wanted. being seen. not just fucked.”

steve was quiet for a moment, giving you space. the silence felt heavy but not uncomfortable. 

when he finally spoke, his voice was even softer, almost careful.

“thank you for being honest about that,” he said. “that’s really helpful information.”

he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

“as an exercise for this week, i’d like you to try something at home. when you masturbate, i want you to focus completely on the physical sensations. you don’t have to do it every day, just when you feel comfortable.”

your heart was beating fast. the idea of doing that and then telling him about it made your stomach twist with nerves.

“and… you want me to tell you how it went?” you asked, voice small.

steve nodded calmly. 

“only if you feel comfortable sharing. this is your space. but yes, talking about it next session could help us understand what makes it easier or harder for you to stay present.”

you swallowed hard, cheeks still burning.

“okay,” you whispered. “i’ll try.”

the drive home was quiet. your hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly the whole way. 

steve’s voice kept echoing in your head. 

the way he looked at you when you spoke. the subtle way his fingers tapped against his knee.

by the time you stepped into your apartment, you kicked off your shoes and sat on the edge of your bed, replaying steve’s words from the session.

you lay back on your bed, still wearing your clothes from the day. you slid your hand inside your now pajama pants and started slowly rubbing yourself over your panties. 

you tried to focus on the sensation, on your own body like steve suggested. but after a few minutes your mind began to wander.

you kept thinking about him.

about the calm way he looked at you when he spoke.

about how low and steady his voice got when he explained things. 

about the way his hands rested on his thighs during sessions. 

you imagined those same hands on you and immediately felt a rush of heat between your legs.

you slipped your fingers under your panties and touched yourself directly, circling your clit slowly. soft sounds left your lips as you got wetter. 

every time you tried to push the thoughts away, they came back stronger. 

you pictured steve’s face, his kind eyes, the slight scruff on his jaw, the way he said your name.

guilt twisted in your chest even as pleasure built between your legs.this is wrong, you thought. 

he was your therapist. he was trying to help you and you were here touching yourself while thinking about him.

still, you didn’t stop. your fingers moved faster, sliding inside yourself while your other hand gripped the sheets. 

your breathing grew heavier. you whispered his name once, very quietly, like a secret you couldn’t keep inside.

when you finally came it was sharp and intense; your thighs shaking, a soft broken sound leaving your throat.

you felt dirty. wrong. like you had crossed a line you could never uncross. 

steve trusted you. 

he was patient and professional and genuinely trying to help you heal, and here you were fantasizing about him.

“what the hell is wrong with me…” you whispered into the quiet room.

the next few days were hell.

you tried to pretend it never happened.

you told yourself it was a one-time mistake. that it wouldn’t happen again.

but when thursday afternoon came and you walked into steve’s office, your hands were already shaking.

steve was sitting in his usual chair, wearing a soft beige sweater, looking calm and professional like always. 

he smiled gently when you entered.

“hey,” he said warmly. “how have you been since last session?” 

you sat down on the couch across from him, legs pressed tightly together.

“fine,” you mumbled.

he studied you for a moment, then leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.

“did you try the homework i gave you?” he asked, voice gentle but direct. “touching yourself without pressure?”

you stayed silent, staring at the floor. your throat felt tight. steve waited patiently.

“you don’t have to share details if you don’t want to,” he continued softly, “but it would help if you could tell me whether you did it or not… and if you did, what came up for you. what you were thinking about.”

you still didn’t answer. your fingers twisted in your lap.

steve tilted his head.

“it’s okay,” he said. “you can sit over here if it feels easier to talk.” he gestured to the smaller couch closer to his chair, only a couple feet away. “sometimes being a little closer helps.”

you didn’t move.

after a few seconds of silence, steve slowly reached out and placed his hand gently on your knee, warm and steady, trying to get your attention.

“hey,” he said quietly, voice low. “talk to me. what’s going on in that head of yours?”

your heart hammered in your chest. his hand on your leg made everything worse. you felt tears burning in your eyes.you finally whispered, barely audible:

“…i did it.”

steve nodded slowly, thumb brushing lightly against your knee in a comforting motion.

“good. that’s okay. and when you were doing it… what were you thinking about?”

you stayed quiet for a long moment, shame burning through your whole body. then, in a tiny, broken voice, you admitted:

“…you.”

the word hung heavy in the air between you.steve froze. his hand stilled on your knee. 

for the first time since you’d known him, he looked genuinely caught off guard.

steve didn’t move. the air between you grew thick. 

he stayed quiet for a few seconds, processing your words, then spoke carefully.

“you need to try thinking about something like that when you’re with daniel. that kind of arousal… that’s what we’re trying to build with him.”

you finally looked up at him with glassy and frustrated eyes.

“how am i supposed to feel that way with daniel?” your voice cracked. “how do i differentiate it? how do i know what i really want with him?”

steve stared at you. his breathing changed.

the professional mask cracked right in front of you. 

for a moment he looked conflicted, struggling hard with himself.

then he leaned in slowly, cupped your face with one hand, and kissed you.

the kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but full of months of hidden tension. his lips were warm and gentle against yours. your heart slammed in your chest.

he pulled back after a few seconds with his breathing ragged.

“fuck… i’m sorry,” he whispered. “that was completely unprofessional. i shouldn’t have done that. we can’t—”

you didn’t let him finish.

you grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him back into the kiss, harder this time. 

steve froze for half a second before he gave in completely, kissing you back with a quiet groan. his hand slid to the back of your neck as the kiss deepened, growing more desperate.

both of you knew how wrong this was.

but in that moment, neither of you cared.

“this is so wrong…” he said. “i could lose my license. i could get fired. we shouldn’t be doing this.”

you looked into his eyes, desperate.

“i need you, steve,” you whispered back, voice breaking. “i don’t want anyone else. i only think about you.”

he let out a shaky breath, clearly fighting with himself. 

then pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling him, your jeans rubbing against his thighs. his hands immediately gripped your hips.

“fuck… you’re going to ruin me,” he murmured before kissing you again, deeper this time.

his mouth moved to your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin as his hands worked between you. 

“ride my thigh, baby,” he whispered hotly against your neck. “just like this. with your clothes on. use me to feel good.”

you moaned softly and started rocking your hips, grinding your clothed pussy against his thick, muscular thigh. 

the rough fabric of your jeans created a delicious friction against your clit with every roll of your hips.

steve’s hands stayed on your hips, guiding you, pulling you harder against his leg.

“that’s it,” he breathed, sucking on the sensitive spot below your ear. “grind on me. use my thigh to get yourself off.”

you moved faster, rolling your hips in desperate circles, the seam of your jeans pressing perfectly against your clit. 

you could feel how wet you were getting, the fabric growing damp as you humped his leg.

“steve…” you whimpered, burying your face in his neck.

“good girl,” he praised softly, kissing down your neck while helping you grind harder. “look at you… riding my thigh fully dressed like you can’t wait any longer.”

his hands squeezed your ass, pulling you down firmer against him with every roll. the pressure was intense, the friction making your legs shake.

“does that feel good, princess?” he murmured, voice low and rough. “humping my leg like a needy girl?”

“yes… fuck, yes,” you moaned quietly, moving faster, chasing the building pleasure.

steve kept kissing and biting your neck gently while you rode his thigh desperately, the wet patch on your jeans growing bigger with every grind.

then he didn’t even wait for you to cum and unbuttoned your jeans and tugged the zipper down. his long fingers slipped inside your jeans and under your panties, finding you soaked.

you gasped as two thick fingers touched you.

“so wet already,” he breathed against your neck, kissing and biting softly while his fingers played with your pussy. “you really do need this, don’t you?”

you moaned quietly, rocking your hips against his hand as he fingered you deeper. 

his thumb found your clit and rubbed firm, steady circles while his mouth continued its assault on your neck.

“steve…” you whimpered, gripping his shoulders. “with you… i feel good.”

he lifted his head from your neck, eyes dark but full of concern. his fingers kept moving inside you, slower now.

“tell me,” he murmured against your skin, voice low and careful.“i don’t feel blocked,” you breathed, grinding down onto his fingers. “i’m not anxious… i’m not overthinking. i’m just… enjoying it. i feel safe with you.”

steve let out a shaky breath, clearly worried.

he stopped moving his fingers for a moment and looked straight into your eyes, his free hand gently cupping your cheek.

“are you sure?” he asked softly, thumb brushing your cheek. “i need you to be honest with me. if anything feels wrong or too much, you tell me immediately, okay? your comfort is the most important thing right now.”

you nodded, leaning into his touch.

“i’m sure,” you whispered. “i want this. i want you.”

steve searched your face for any sign of doubt, then kissed you again, slower this time, more tenderly. 

his fingers started moving once more, curling gently inside you while his thumb kept rubbing your clit in steady circles.

“good girl,” he whispered against your lips, voice full of care. “just relax. i’ve got you. tell me if you want it slower or deeper.” he whispered hotly against your skin, curling his fingers inside you perfectly. “just ride my fingers, baby. take what you need.”

his other hand slid under your shirt, squeezing your breast as he kept kissing and marking your neck. 

his fingers moved faster inside you, thrusting deep while his thumb pressed harder on your clit.

you were grinding desperately on his hand, moaning softly into his shoulder, completely lost in the feeling of his fingers stretching you and his mouth on your neck.

steve groaned quietly against your skin.

“you feel so fucking good… so tight around my fingers.”

you moaned quietly, rolling your hips against his hand as he fingered you with perfect rhythm. 

his mouth returned to your neck, kissing and sucking softly while he focused completely on your pleasure, always watching your reactions, always making sure you felt safe.

“you’re doing so well,” he murmured against your skin, fingers curling just right. “i just want you to feel good, baby. nothing else matters right now.”

the pleasure built quickly until it crashed over you. you came hard with a broken moan, thighs shaking, pussy clenching tightly around his fingers as waves of pleasure rolled through your body. 

steve kept moving his fingers gently, helping you ride out every last pulse.

when you finally came down, breathing heavily, you reached down to palm his obvious erection through his pants.

steve immediately caught your wrist, stopping you.

“no,” he said softly but firmly, breathing hard. “not today. this is about you.”

he gently lifted you off his lap and laid you down on the couch. 

he knelt on the floor between your legs, pulled your jeans and panties down in one smooth motion, and spread your thighs wide.

steve leaned in and kissed your inner thigh, then higher, until his mouth was on your pussy. he licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, tasting you. 

you moaned loudly, your hand flying to his hair.

he licked you slowly at first, savoring you, then became more eager; sucking gently on your clit, fucking you with his tongue, then sliding two fingers back inside you while he focused his mouth on your sensitive bud.

“steve…” you whimpered, back arching. “oh my god…”

he ate you out with perfect focus, humming against you, curling his fingers deep while his tongue worked your clit in stead patterns. 

you felt completely overwhelmed in the best way.

“it’s been so long…” you moaned, voice breaking, fingers tightening in his hair. “i haven’t felt this good with anyone in so long… steve, fuck—”

he groaned against your pussy, the vibration making you shiver. 

he doubled down, sucking harder on your clit while his fingers thrust faster.

you came again with a loud cry, thighs clamping around his head as intense pleasure flooded your body. 

steve kept licking you gently through it, drawing out every wave until you were trembling and oversensitive.

he finally pulled back, lips shiny, breathing heavily. he looked up at you with dark, worried, but undeniably hungry eyes. then he slowly stood up, towering over you as you lay on the couch. 

he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at you for a long moment.

“do you really want me to fuck you?” he asked, voice low and rough. “because we’ve already broken every rule… if we do this, there’s no going back.”

you nodded, still catching your breath.

“yes,” you whispered. “i want you.” steve let out a shaky breath, clearly fighting with himself one last time.

he quickly unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, pulling out his cock. he was big — thick and long, the head already leaking. 

you stared at it, a mix of nerves and excitement flooding you.

“you have to be quiet,” he warned, voice serious. “no matter what. if someone hears us, i’m done.”

you nodded quickly. steve pulled your jeans and panties completely off, then climbed on top of you on the small couch. 

he rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked pussy before slowly pushing inside.you gasped at the stretch. he was so big it almost hurt, but it felt so good. 

he covered your mouth with his large hand as he sank deeper while his eyes were locked on yours.

“shhh, baby,” he whispered, bottoming out inside you. “fuck… you’re so tight.”

he started fucking you on the couch, deep and steady thrusts, his hand still firmly over your mouth to muffle your moans. every time he buried himself completely you whimpered against his palm, eyes rolling back.

after a few minutes he pulled out, stood up and turned you around, bending you over the desk. he pushed back inside you from behind in one smooth thrust, groaning quietly.

“quiet, princess,” he reminded you, hand returning to cover your mouth as he started fucking you harder. 

the desk creaked softly with every deep thrust. steve was so big you could feel him in your stomach, stretching you perfectly.

his free hand gripped your hip tightly as he pounded into you, trying to stay as quiet as possible while giving you exactly what you needed.

“is this what you wanted?” he breathed against your ear, voice strained. “you feel so fucking good…”

you could only moan helplessly against his hand, completely lost in how full you felt and how deep he was hitting inside you.

“is this what you wanted?” he whispered, voice low and rough, lips brushing your ear. “when you were touching yourself at home… thinking about me… is this what you imagined?”

you moaned against his palm, nodding frantically.

“oh yes, steve…” you whimpered, the words muffled against his hand.he fucked you a little harder, deep and slow, making sure you felt every inch.

“you were fucking yourself thinking about my cock, weren’t you?” he breathed, voice soft but filthy. “touching that pretty pussy and wishing it was me stretching you open like this…”

you whimpered louder, pushing back against him.

“yes… yes, steve… i wanted you so bad,” you gasped against his fingers.

steve groaned quietly, pressing deeper, grinding against you.

“good girl,” he murmured, kissing the side of your neck while still covering your mouth. “you feel even better than i imagined… so fucking tight and wet for me.”

he kept a steady rhythm, rolling his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. his hand stayed firm over your mouth, muffling your moans as you trembled beneath him.

“that’s it, baby… take it,” he whispered hotly. “this is what you needed, isn’t it? my cock deep inside you while you’re bent over my desk…”

you nodded desperately, tears of pleasure in your eyes.

“yes, steve… oh god, yes…” you moaned against his hand, voice broken and needy.

steve kissed your neck again, sucking softly on your skin as he fucked you deeper, slower, making sure you felt every single inch.

“you’re doing so good for me,” he praised gently, voice full of lust and care at the same time. “such a good girl… letting me fuck you like this…”

“that’s it, baby,” he whispered against your ear, voice low and rough. “cum for me. let go.”

your orgasm hit you hard. your whole body tensed, thighs shaking as you came around his cock with a muffled cry against his palm. 

your pussy clenched tightly around him, pulsing again and again.

steve groaned quietly, burying himself deep as he followed right after you. his hips stuttered and he came hard inside you, filling you with warm pulses while pressing his face into your neck to stay quiet.

for a few seconds you both stayed like that, breathing heavily. 

then reality seemed to hit him. steve pulled out slowly and grabbed the box of tissues from his desk. he cleaned you gently first, wiping between your legs with care, then cleaned himself.

you both dressed quickly in silence. he helped you button your jeans. once you were both fully dressed, steve sat on the edge of the desk and pulled you to stand between his legs.

he looked at you softly.

“how do you feel?” he asked quietly, genuine concern in his eyes. “be honest with me.”

you took a deep breath, still a little shaky.

“i didn’t feel blocked,” you whispered. “i didn’t overthink everything like i usually do. i just… felt good. really good. safe.”

steve’s expression softened. a small, relieved smile appeared on his lips.

“that’s really good,” he murmured, sounding genuinely happy. “i’m glad you felt that way. that’s important.”

“and… is this what all your patients get?” you asked softly, half-joking but clearly a little nervous.

steve’s eyes widened. he let out a surprised little laugh and shook his head immediately.

“ohhh no, no, no,” he said quickly, almost embarrassed. “you’ve been the exception. completely. i usually stay very professional… i’ve never crossed this line before. not even close.”

he cupped your face with both hands, looking straight into your eyes, sincere.

“this has never happened with anyone else. you’re the only one.”

you bit your lip, feeling a strange mix of relief and warmth in your chest.

steve leaned in and kissed your forehead gently, then rested his forehead against yours.

“this is new for me too,” he whispered. “and probably really stupid… but i couldn’t stop myself with you.”

© dividers by angeliicide and suupersonic

[celebpawb]

[rubyscrux]

that cap

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader summary: hanging out with your bf in your room and he finds his final battle cap without knowing the effect he has in you warnings: SMUT, +18, p in v, dirty talk, softdom!steve, petnames like baby, unprotected sex, porn without plot, creampie, and if i left somwthing lmk author's note: first time writing this type of graphic smut lmao so sorry if this sucks and also i was working in other fic but this came to my mind better

it had been almost two months since everything with vecna.

two months since the nightmares had finally started fading, since the cuts and bruises had healed, since life in hawkins had begun pretending to be normal again.

and somehow, through all of it, steve had stayed.

he was sprawled across your bedroom floor, digging through a box of random stuff he’d left there weeks ago. you barely paid attention at first, too focused on the book in your lap.

until he pulled out that hat.

the hat.

the one he’d worn during the final battle.

“hey, i was looking for this.”

your eyes immediately snapped up.

steve turned it over in his hands before placing it on his head with a lazy grin.

and that was it.

something in your brain short-circuited.

because apparently surviving the apocalypse together wasn’t enough. apparently your boyfriend wearing an old baseball cap was what finally did you in.

“what?” steve asked, noticing the way you were staring.

you shook your head quickly, “nothing.”

the smirk growing on his face told you he absolutely did not believe you.

“it’s nothing.”

steve raised an eyebrow. “right.”

you looked back down at your book, pretending to read.

it lasted maybe three seconds.

“stop looking at me like that.”

“like what?” he asked innocently.

you glanced up again and immediately regretted it. the stupid hat was still on his head.

“like that.”

his grin widened.

“that’s not an answer.”

you groaned and dropped your head back against the bed.

“you’re impossible.”

“and yet you’ve been dating me for over a year.”

you rolled your eyes.

steve pushed himself off the floor and walked toward the bed.

dangerous. very dangerous.

especially when he sat down beside you and bumped your shoulder with his.

“seriously,” he said. “what is it?”

“nothing.”

“liar.”

you laughed despite yourself.

“i’m not lying.”

“you’ve been staring at me for ten minutes.”

“it has not been ten minutes.”

“eight, then.”

“steve.”

“baby.”

the nickname made your stomach flip.

he knew exactly what he was doing.

his arm slid around your waist as he leaned closer.

“tell me.”

you tried to hold his gaze.

you really did.

but then your eyes drifted to the hat again.

and steve noticed immediately.

the realization hit him all at once.

“oh my god.”

your face grew warm.

“don’t.”

“it’s the hat.”

you covered your face with both hands.

“don’t.”

his laugh filled the room.

“it’s the hat!”

“steve, i swear—”

“you think i look hot.”

you groaned.

“i hate you.”

“you absolutely do not.”

when you finally lowered your hands, he was smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

and somehow that was even worse.

because now he looked pleased with himself.

which, annoyingly, was also attractive.

“say it,” he teased.

“no.”

“say it.”

“never.”

his hand found yours, fingers intertwining easily.

“c’mon.”

you tried to look annoyed.

it didn’t work.

especially when he moved closer, close enough that you could count the freckles scattered across his face.

“fine,” you muttered.

his eyes lit up.

“fine?”

“maybe.”

“maybe what?”

you let out an exaggerated sigh.

“maybe the hat looks good.”

steve’s smile softened.

“just the hat?”

your heart skipped.

“don’t push it.”

“too late.”

he leaned in a little more.

the teasing expression faded, replaced by something gentler.

something that always made your chest ache in the best way.

“you know,” he murmured, “i kinda like when you look at me like that.”

your breath caught.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

for a moment neither of you moved.

then steve reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

his thumb brushed your cheek. and suddenly all the joking disappeared.

“hi,” he said quietly.

you smiled.

“hi.”

his eyes flickered down to your lips.

then back up.

giving you every chance to pull away.

instead, you closed the distance first.

the kiss started soft.

slow.

just a gentle press of lips that made steve smile against your mouth.

his hand settled at your waist, pulling you a little closer as you kissed him again.

and again.

until neither of you could remember what the conversation had even been about in the first place.

you kissed him like you meant it. like you actually liked him. not like you were just messing around. steve's eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feeling. his hand at your waist tightened possessively. pulling you flush against him. the kiss deepened, tongues sliding together in perfect harmony.

you pulled back for a moment, just for murmuring “you look hot in that hat.”

opens his eyes, a soft smile on his face "yeah?" his thumb brushes your bottom lip gently "just the hat?" he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth "or do i look hot without it too?"

“keep it on.”

he grins, the dimples appearing on his cheeks "so you like me better with the hat on?" his hand moves from your waist to rest on your hip "noted." he leans in again, pressing kisses along your jawline.

you sigh.

he hears the soft sigh and smiles against your skin, knowing it means you're enjoying this just as much as he is.

"you're kinda cute when you're trying not to smile." he kisses the soft spot right below your ear, feeling your body shiver against his.

“yeah?”

he nods, his lips still pressed against your neck "yeah."

his hand moves up to cup your cheek, turning your face towards him so he can capture your lips in another kiss.

 "i like it." he murmurs between kisses "I like you." you hum as response.

his smile widens against your lips, knowing that soft hum means you're happy. "see, that right there?" he pulls back slightly to look at you "that's what I mean."

"that little hum you do when you're happy or relaxed or whatever. it's cute."  his thumb brushes your cheekbone softly  "and all those little smiles you try to hide? yeah, those are cute too."  he leans in to press a kiss to your nose 

he sees the soft smile and his heart skips a beat. he's falling for you, hard, and he doesn't even care.

"there it is."  he whispers, smiling back at you  "my girl with her cute little smile." he kisses you again, slower this time, pouring all his feelings into it. 

you put your hands in his neck.

his eyes flutter closed at the gentle touch. he loves when you touch him like that. it's possessive and sweet and it makes him feel all sorts of things. "mhm?" he hums, nuzzling into your touch. "you okay?"

you nod.

he pulls back slightly to look at your face, his eyes searching yours. he notices your dilated pupils and the slight flush on your cheeks.

he swallows hard, realizing you're just as into this as he is. his voice comes out husky. "you like this, huh?"

“maybe”

his smile widens, his hands moving to rest on your hips. "maybe?"  he repeats, his thumbs brushing back and forth.

"you’re blushing and touching my neck and you're saying maybe?" he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear.

“i can’t just focus.”

he chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. "can’t focus because i’m kissing you or because you're trying to hide how much you like it?"

his hands squeeze your hips gently, pulling you a little closer. "or both?" he presses a soft kiss just below your ear.

“both.”

he smiles against your neck, his hands sliding up to your waist. "okay, I can work with that." he starts placing open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, his hands distracting you by squeezing and pulling gently.

he notices your head tilting to the side, giving him better access to your neck. he smiles devilishly and starts placing kisses and gentle bites along your neck, knowing that always makes you arch into him. "you’re not focusing real well right now, are you?"

“shut up.”

he laughs softly against your neck, his hands sliding up to your ribs as he continues his distracting kisses. "make me." he challenges playfully, knowing that you're too distracted by his touches to actually follow through with telling him to shut up.

his lips find that spot just below your ear again.

you sigh once again.

he smiles against your neck, hearing the sigh. "you’re sighing a lot." he points out, his hands moving up to your shoulders.

"like you're really into this and can't even talk right now." he presses a kiss to the sensitive spot on your neck.

“steve.”

hearing his name on your lips like that—soft and breathless—makes his heart race. "yeah?" he murmurs, pulling back slightly to look at you with those warm brown eyes. his thumbs brush the tender skin below your eyes.

"you okay?" his voice is soft, concerned but also clearly enjoying this. "you’re breathing all funny.”

“can you just shut up and fuck me?”

his eyes widen briefly in surprise at your sudden demand, but then a slow, smirk spreads across his face. "fuck me?" he repeats playfully, his hands squeezing your shoulders gently. "is that how you ask nicely?" he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear again.

“yup”

he laughs softly, the sound turning into a groan as you grind against him slightly. "okay, okay, i'm shutting up." he captures your lips in a rough kiss, finally giving you what you asked for. "god, you're horny right now."

you laugh softly.

he smiles against your lips, his hands moving to unbutton your shirt quickly. "i love it when you're like this." he murmurs between kisses, pushing the shirt off your shoulders. "bossy and horny as hell." his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants.

“do you?”

he nods, his eyes locked onto yours as he pulls down your pants. "yeah, i do." he admits, his voice husky. "it’s hot as fuck. and it means i’m doing something right." he pushes your pants down, leaving you in just your underwear.

“you’re just existing”

he laughs softly, standing up to pull off his own shirt. "existing, huh?" he smirks, tossing his shirt aside. "well, i'm glad i’m existing in a way that turns you on." he reaches out to pull you up with him, his hands going to your underwear. "these too."

he pushes your underwear down, leaving you completely naked in front of him. "look at you." he murmurs appreciatively, his hands roaming over your hips and stomach. "all horny and bossy and naked." he kisses you again, rougher this time.

your hands go to his back, touching him tightly.

he breaks the kiss to quickly unbutton his own pants, pushing them down along with his boxers. he's hard and ready, pressing against you. "condom?" he asks breathlessly against your neck.

“no, wanna feel you.”

his breath catches at your words, his hips bucking against you slightly. "jesus, are you sure?" he asks, his voice strained. he doesn't want to rush you, but he also doesn't want to hurt you if you're not ready.

"we don't have to—" his words cut off with a groan as you grind against him.

he can't take it anymore, your grinding against him is driving him wild. "fuck, okay." he whispers hoarsely, lifting you up suddenly.

you wrap your legs around his waist instinctively. he walks over to the wall, pressing you against it.

“please stevie.”

his heart melts at hearing his name fall from your lips like that, desperate and needy. he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in slowly, filling you completely. he pauses, giving you a moment to adjust before he starts moving, slow and deep. "shh..."

he keeps his movements slow and steady, even though he wants to pound into you wildly.

he remembers how sensitive you are and how you always need a minute to adjust. "god, you feel so good." he murmurs against your neck, his hips rolling slowly.

the moans began to be heard.

your soft moan makes his cock twitch inside you. he leans back slightly to watch your face as he moves, loving the way your eyes flutter and your mouth falls open.

"that's it, let me hear you." he encourages, his pace staying slow but his hips adding little circles that hit deep.  "you like that?"

“oh my god, steve.” 

your voice, breathless and desperate, saying his name like he's the only thing holding you together, makes his chest tighten in the best way.

"right here," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. "i'm right here, baby." his thrusts grow a little faster, a little more urgent, but he still keeps them deep.

his mouth covers yours in a rough kiss, swallowing your moans as he starts moving with more force.

one hand remains possessively on your thigh while the other tangles in your hair, holding you in place for the kiss. his hips snap forward harder, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

“fuck”

he groans into your mouth at your curse, his hips stuttering for a moment before he starts pounding into you with more urgency. he knows he's hitting the right spot now, the way your nails dig into his back and your legs tighten around him tells him everything he needs to know.

he breaks the kiss to watch your face, loving the way your mouth falls open on a silent 'oh' as he hits that spot over and over. his thrusts become faster, more intense, but still deep. he can feel you getting closer, your body tensing around him.

“i’m gonna cum—“

his own orgasm is building, but he focuses on you instead. "then cum," he breathes against your lips, his hips rolling in a way that makes your eyes roll back. "let go, baby. i've got you." he increases the pressure, his cock hitting that perfect spot repeatedly. "c'mon, let me feel you."

you come undone around him with a loud cry, your walls clamping down hard around his cock. he feels your orgasm pulse through you and loses control, his own release hitting him like a freight train. he buries his face in your neck, thrusting wildly as he comes inside you.

they stay like that for a few moments, both panting heavily against each other's necks as they come down from their highs.

he doesn't move except to press soft kisses to your neck and shoulder. when he finally pulls back to look at you, he smiles softly.

“what?” you smile softly

he chuckles softly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "just thinking how fucking beautiful you are right now." he presses a gentle kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out of you. he winces slightly at the sensitivity but ignores it to focus on taking care of you. "come here,"

he carefully sets you on your feet, keeping an arm around your waist to make sure you're steady.

he grabs some tissues and gently cleans you up before pulling you back against his chest, wrapping both arms around you. "you okay?" he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. "not too sore?"

“i’m perfectly fine.”

he smiles against your temple, one hand splaying out on your stomach possessively. "good." he murmurs softly. he loves these moments - the quiet afterglow where he gets to hold you close and feel content. his voice drops to a gentle whisper, "love you."

“i love you more.”

he laughs softly, squeezing you closer. "impossible." he says back instantly, like he always does during these moments. it's become their little joke - who loves who more.

he turns you around gently to face him, pressing a soft kiss to your nose.

[eternal-sunflowers]

the cutest person to ever exist actually

[velvetciders]

thinking about gator who’s fallen for the local farmers daughter 5k+

Since Roy was the way he was, he wanted the finest, freshest meat and dairy produce that was in town, taking Gators patrol time away to go fetch them.

He didn’t meet you the first few times he visited, only handing money to your father and collecting what he paid for.

It was always early in the morning, messing his schedule, and setting him in a terrible mood for the rest of the day.

He finally met you one morning where he had nothing to do, so he decided to get it over with. The sun was starting to rise and he felt a twisted feeling in his stomach, and not the good kind. His body was always guarded up regardless.

He pulled up in his big and flashy truck, hat firm on his head and eyes direct.

The tires skidded across the dirt when he turned and looked at the porch of the farmers house. White wooden walls, plants in the front, and a nice yellow bench swing just in front of the windows.

And you.

His eyes only widened slightly, mostly out of shock because he never knew the only well farmer in town had a daughter. One that looked close to his age, that was.

He started to fumble with the wallet on his lap, wanting to just drive away when he realized he was way too early. He didn’t want to talk to some girl. You probably didn’t know much about the farm, probably spent all day flipping through magazines like you were doing just now.

He cleared his throat and started to take off the thigh holster that had his gun. He didn’t want you scared, didn’t want you annoyingly screaming this time of morning. He didn’t care. He still bit the inside of his cheek.

His feet dragged as he hesitantly walked over to the front porch, leaning over the wood and peering over what you were doing. He tried not to smile smugly at how you didn’t even look up at him.

“Hello.” He says.

You look up, see his uniform and his badge, and blink your eyes back down.

“My daddy’s not here.”

He was taken aback by your voice. Well, not really. It was soft, gentle and practically laced by innocence- and you looked like the type. That morning you wore fuzzy socks, short and small plaid pj shorts that was peeking through your silk sleep shirt.

“Looks like it.” He mumbles, “can’t I just tell you what I ordered and ya grab it?”

You looked up at him again, eyes finally meeting his. You saw how they were hazel and filled with tension and rigidness. Like they’ve looked that way for years, never released or calm.

“I don’t know where he keeps his things.” Your eyes flickered back and forth with his. He did the same. “He’ll be here around lunch.”

“Fuck.. fine. Yeah. Just let him know I’ll be here round that time.”

“Okay.” You say before looking back down, flipping a page.

He stayed quiet and glared at you, watched you in a certain way. He didn’t know if it was good or bad. You were pretty, sure, your body and face so soft that it made him question the type of girl he desired. Something along the lines of you, he imagined. He watched you some more, expecting maybe a glance, maybe another chance for him to insist on getting his order.

This was all his dads fault, wasting his time and energy instead of working.

Gator huffed and quickly went back to his truck after that, not bothering to look at the porch again when he drove away. He didn’t know what to think, his mind clouded, but he for sure wasn’t expecting a girl like you.

——

A few months passed and Gator was convinced his life was changed for good. Some bad moments shined into his life, though, like always.

He found himself arriving at your farm while the sun rose, so he could see the lace curtains of your bedroom open and your warm lamp flicker on. He’d quietly wait for you just outside, leaning against the white wood while you routinely sat down on the bench across from him.

Conversations flowed about nothing, quiet but calming as your voice coaxed him from morning sleepiness.

You would talk about stupid things. What you two liked, sweet memories, and it was easy to joke around with him. Your friends painted a picture of Gator, a guy you needed to stay away from and who’s heart was stone cold. They were wrong, apparently. Because the Gator in front of you was smiling up to his eyes, his laughs a bit more high pitched.

It was hard at first, earning his way into your life. He was still snarky in some moments, still full of attitude. It slowly started to leave. But you never seemed to mind. It confused him.

He quickly learned the girl you were, and for the first time, he didn’t batter up his walls and pretend he didn’t care. Because he cared so much that it hurt his heart. Gator knew you didn’t deserve him. With your cute little socks and your babydoll dresses, compared to his rough hands and gun hiding in his truck.

He learned the sensitivity that always lingered in your personality, how you preferred quiet over loud, warm over cold. He stopped scowling like he usually did, and he didn’t think you were weak for being soft and codependent.

Deep down, he knew he wanted someone like that. He wanted someone to love and to come home too, kissing tears and comforting them to sleep. He’d never felt that before.

Some nights where his mind was clouded with his dad, he thought back to you. To the day something shifted.

It was early morning again. The farm felt still, the soft chimes on the patio singing delicately into the summer air. He saw you like usual, curled up in a ball, your lips parted and smushed to your knee. You were asleep.

Somehow you fell asleep with a book in hand, your pretty pajamas still on.

You stirred awake to the noise of his boots crunching on the ground, face flooding with embarrassment when you realized he saw how you looked fresh from slumber.

“Mornin’”. He said.

You blinked tiredly.

He only chuckled and gave you a smile that didn’t seem malicious.

When he said gruffly bye to you with bags in his hands, it seemed like he already forgot. He never mentioned it again days after, didn’t tease. Your heart settled at that.

He honestly surprised himself. It took almost years for someone to finally make Gator feel a tinge of happiness, of contentment outside of his job. He tried to stay tough every day though, regardless of this change. He knew his harsh demeanor wasn’t for attention, for pity, it was for himself.

He didn’t know how to navigate without it.

He was still stubborn when he wanted to be. It quickly escaped him the moment you fluttered your eyelashes up at him and gave him the most delicate smile he’s ever seen. For once, Gator Tillman’s cheeks turned pink.

“Hey honeybee.” He mumbles with a small smirk, when it was really a smile in disguise.

He managed to escape his afternoon patrol, something he would rather die than do, so he could drive over to the farm and see you. If his dad ever found out, he’d never let it go, yelling that he had gone to soft for some girl who never even left the house. He didn’t even have produce to pick up. He got it that morning.

He started to ask Roy about the orders, what time, how many days of the week. Gator cherished every given moment.

He knew why he was doing all this, waking up every early morning to the thought of you, your voice, how his voice changed around you.

He liked you. Deeply and scarily. Even after knowing you for 3 months.

Gator didn’t know what it was that brought you and him to this relationship, so close. Your different personalities clashed so beautifully and easily that it exploded into one.

“Hi Gate.” Your smile was so wide, it made your face glow.

He was leaning against the doorframe of your house, your dad not home because of some other business with property. Your father enjoyed the deal he had going on with Roy, and he found Gator respectful. But he’s obviously noticed the string between you and Gator, and it wasn’t rare when he reminded you over dinner to watch out for him. You’d agree and tell him empty promises, only for you to go up to your room and call Gator over the phone.

He would tell you he was thinking about you, and at first it was hard to believe, maybe he was just messing around with you out of boredom.

But the calls would extend late into night, simply listening to your breathing or your whispered goodnight.

It felt like he’s known you his whole life.

“Hm, I smell cinnamon.” He looks behind you.

You nod and shyly let him in.

“M’ startin to think you just come here for food.” You teased but you had a pout, “and my daddy’s gross meat.”

He chuckles. “Ya know damn well that’s not why I come here.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He spins around. Gator hums in response and laces his arm around you, skin warm against his. You two have had close touches like this, hand holding and hugging. But it was never out in public, out for others to see. It was on your porch early in the morning, just outside his truck, or moments like these. When no one was around expect him.

His fingers thread with your baby blue dress, slipping just under the strap.

“Bought this the other day.” You admit quietly after some seconds.

But he wasn’t even looking at the dress, not the way it clung perfectly to your hips like he’s always imagined you. He was looking at your face, your plumpy pink lips and your eyes blinking up at him.

“Looks real pretty on ya.” He hums again.

You couldn’t pinpoint what this tension was. It always lingered between you two, but your grasp escaped his whenever it felt too close. Too real.

“You know… I’ve actually never seen you outside of your scary uniform.”

He tilts his head and smirks.

“You sayin’ you want it off?”

Your face turns red and you gently shove him off you. “Shut up, weirdo.” Your hand was still laced with his as he followed you to the kitchen.

Quiet romantic music played on the radio in your kitchen, the dishwasher was running, and you sat on the counter with Gator standing right next to you. There was silence between you two as you ate your cinnamon buns, his fingers gently tapping to the music on your knee.

He was talking about his morning and how an officer spilled coffee on him, earning the sweetest laugh out of you. Gator thought it must’ve been physically impossible to look away from you.

“Holy hell, your smile hon.” He whistles, still a little shy. “Cutest I’ve ever seen.”

It grew wider.

“I like yours. The way your lips look when you do.”

“Nah, I look dumb as shit when I smile.”

“Not possible, Gate.” You peck his shoulder that was close to your mouth, “You’re very handsome.”

He looked down at the counter and bit the inside of his cheek to stop another smile creeping in.

It was always like this over the phone, or in real life even if it was just for five minutes. He cherished every word you said rather than ignoring it and denying. You two continued to talk here and there, mouths full with frosting and thoughts stormed your mind with him. How he smelled like deep piney wood, a strand of hair slowly falling over his forehead, eyes shinning instead of it’s dullness.

“When’d ya get this?” He feels your finger gently trace a bruise just under his jaw.

His eyes flicker to yours and he saw your frown. He usually didn’t feel bad when someone cared about him, because he never allowed it to happen. Somehow, he wish he never got hurt so he didn’t have to see the way your eyes fell at the sight.

“Just last night. Dad got me jumbled up with some guys on this case.” He says, “doesn’t hurt though.”

The lie was only proven wrong when he softly winced at how tender it was, even under your light touch.

“Does he work you a lot?”

“…No.” He huffs and looks down at his purple knuckles, stretching out his hand and squeezing air, “he doesn’t put me on enough. I want more.”

“I feel like you get hurt every single time.”

“Comes with the job, bee. Can’t do anything bout it”

You stay quiet, too quiet, so he looks back at you. Your eyes seemed to never leave his figure and he wasn’t sure how to react. All this time, he’s bottled his rage about his father, about how he desired to be admired and accomplished. He felt like expressing it made him seems like a daddy’s boy, following around his orders. Somehow, the way you seeped your way into his heart made him forget the reasons why he was like that in the first place.

That afternoon he left before your father got home, walking with you to his truck.

That was the first time you kissed him. Well, not on his lips, but a part of him wished it was. He pushed the feeling away. You kissed him just below his bruise so it didn’t press, and then another one just above it, your feet tipped in reach.

He was painfully aware of his tense shoulders and neck, unaware that a moment like this meant he could relax. He still didn’t, but god he wished it did. He wanted to be good for you.

His cheeks felt warm but you didn’t seem to notice.

“Just know that someone cares, Gator.” You whisper, reading his mind. “Call me like ya always do, okay? Don’t be stubborn and hold back.”

He smiled faintly at that because how could an innocent girl like you know him better than himself?

“I’ll try.”

Your frown from a few minutes ago was still there, but it slowly curved up, although it was hard to believe him. He knew you were a concerned, that’s just how you were when you cared deeply about someone. He felt lucky thst specific someone was him.

“…Okay. Be safe.”

He nods, squeezes your hand one last time before hopping up into the drivers seat. You give him a small wave as he drives off and he let out a shaky breath he’s been holding the moment he arrived.

He knew right then that he was done for.

——

It happened so soon, over whispers along town and discussions over the dinner table. That Gator Tillman was flirting with the farmers pure hearted daughter. That he was corrupting her and changing her path for the future, that he was too violent and snarky to be hanging around you.

Eventually, your dad found out.

You tried not to think about the night where he yelled at you like never before, banning you completely from Gator. Your dad called off his arrangement with Roy, little to know explanation being told to him, but he did it coldly.

You cried into your pillow that night, a warm lamp on and your door locked. Why’d it feel like a piece of you was ripped away? Had you fallen that easily, gotten so attached? It felt silly in a way, but so very right, because he was the one who truly understood you. The one who made you squeal like a little girl.

There was no possible way you could be seen with him again. The whole town was looking out for you, while they looked away from him. You felt helpless.

Your eyelids grew heavy when your phone started to ring. You quickly answered it and you heard it.

Gator’s breath shuddered.

In his room, out on the ranch, he felt a new feeling of devastation. Roy took his anger out on him, like always, and Gator did what was normal for him now. Call you. He just wished it was for different reasons.

“G-Gator.” You whine in desperation and you two knew what this was about.

“I hate this stupid fuckin’ town, always talkin bout other peoples business.” He immediately said, “I mean, w-who the fuck cares about us? We should only care.”

You stayed quiet on the other end and he noticed it, but he was so upset about the ties cut loose that he couldn’t stop. He took breaths in between, his fingers stained with salty tears that were slowly escaping him.

He didn’t know it’d hurt this much, especially since you two weren’t even dating. Hadn’t even confessed.

“I’m sorry.” You hiccup.

“What are ya sorry for, bun? Don’t be.”

“I- You were just a… a customer and I b-brought myself into your l-life. I feel awful.”

“Hey hey, no.” You heard his sheets shuffle and you knew you two paralleled.

Messy bed, tears staining the cotton, looking out the window for what could’ve been.

“Don’t think like that, ever, okay? I- hell… I’m glad how we turned out, ya know? I like what we have.”

He admits with hesitance in his voice. He’s never openly said he liked the concept of you and him, and it made your stomach turn inside out.

“You do?”

“Course’ I do. It’s the best moment of my day, seeing you sittin pretty on the porch with that smile, all for me. It makes me feel better, not like I got dragged in.”

You let out a sob at that, not even feeling embarrassed that you were crying over being separated like a teenage girl. Something in your gut told you that your daddy was wrong.

“You make me so happy, Gator. Happiest I’ve ever been.”

He groans.

“Shit, honeybee, don’t say stuff like that. Not right now.”

His mind couldn’t wrap around what was happening. He had this girl on the phone, sobbing her eyes out because she missed him. He missed you so badly, even if it’s been a day, but it made his heart ache and burn.

You seemed to have wanted him, needed him like air, just like he needed you. It was new and it suddenly washed over him way too fast. He felt like crying again.

“I don’t know what to do.” You say weakly. “D-Daddy’s got me stayin’ here. I can’t even go outside cus of us.”

He thought for a split second, already grabbing his keys that rested on his nightstand. He changed into some quick, not his uniform, and he didn’t even bother to slick back his hair. He felt raw, exposed, but in the best way.

“We’ll figure something out, I promise.” He says sternly, “Stay in your room. I’ll be there in 10.”

“Gator wha-” He hung up and you stared at your blank screen.

When he got to your house in five minutes, it was dark inside, except for the familiar orange light that peered just inside your room upstairs. It seemed like you’ve been waiting this whole time, lace curtains pushed back to see him. You’ve never snuck out before. This was wrong. Dangerous. Your dad’s reputation of being the best farmer could get ruined by a reckless daughter who snuck out with the sheriffs son.

You reached for your phone and texted him.

‘Meet me at the back door.’

You saw bubbles appear and disappear, only for him to respond with a thumbs up emoji. Despite your heart racing out of your body, it seemed to calm you down. It was Gator, after all. Your feet gently padded against the wooden floors as you tipped downstairs, wearing nothing but small shorts and a big shirt, shivers running down your spine.

“Hey- okay, okay.” He lost his footing when you rushed and lunged towards him, sobbing uncontrollably into his neck.

You’ve never been this close. With your bare legs brushing against his jeans and his warm hands sliding under your shirt. He breathed into your neck and he stiffened, trying to stay strong. He tried so hard.

“Don’t cry, bun, the world ain’t ending.” He pleas.

It seemed like his desperation wasn’t helping, so he gently tugged you to start walking, pressing his lips to the side of your head.

“Let’s go to my truck, yeah? I’ll take us somewhere quiet.”

You nodded and hiccuped between tears, his arm around you while wiping your wet cheeks with his thumb. You felt like your body was weighing down on you, like the whole world just collapsed over a boy. But he wasn’t just that, and you knew it. He was an opening to a life you’ve always wanted, romantically free.

——

It was quiet, still, cold. Gator brought you to a far expanded creek that was just on the edge of town, covered in trees and seeping into the moonlight. He’s told you about this specific spot the first month he knew you, confessing he’d often go at night to clear his clouded head.

Your legs were draped over his lap, feeling the gruffness of the denimn. His fingers trailed up and down your legs like feathers, gulping down all the words he wanted to say. That he’s gained feelings for you that he’s never felt before, that his heart flipped when he saw you.

“Was your dad upset?” You whisper timidly.

“That the deal cut off? Yeah. He was too disappointed to talk about… us, so he just ignored me.” He says, “Your daddy didn’t hurt ya, did he?”

“No.”

“…I’d go right now and end all of ‘em, the ones spreadin rumors bout what we got.”

You turn your head and look at him, the straight line of his nose and how it glowed under the moon. You wanted to ask him, tell him, what did you two have? It sure felt intimate right now, with his fingers trailing just under your shorts but never more. You noticed his two little moles that paired close to each other, his hair falling foward.

After looking at him, you said, “You’re not in your uniform.”

He wore normal dark blue jeans, a dark plain shirt over him with a brown jacket on. He looked soft, comforting. It made your lower stomach feel funny, legs pressed together.

He smirks faintly and gently squeezes your thigh, turning to look at you.

“M’ supposed to wear it anytime I go out. Doesn’t really bother me, it’s Roy’s rules. Heavy as shit, though.”

But from the gleam in his eye, the way his frown stayed, told you otherwise. Your eyebrows furrow at his response, slowly leaning foward and running your fingers through his hair, crusty and raw from day old gel. His eyes fluttered shut and his light touches stopped, like he became completely undone by you.

“You don’t regret it?” You whisper.

“What?”

“Comin’ back every morning. Before my daddy was even up.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, eyes opening again and squinting towards the water.

“Look at where were at right now.” He says softly but firmly, “I don’t have a damn regret. Haven’t had one these past few months.”

You sit there for a while. “I don’t regret it either. Getting- getting to know you.”

He hummed.

“I remember you said I was scary the second time I saw ya. Almost broke ma heart, bun.”

You swat his arm and he chuckled at that, his eyes flickering to yours. You two held eye contact for a split second, before you rolled them shyly and looked at the trees.

“That’s because you had a gun against you.”

“Ah, that stupid thing.” He mumbles, “I don’t really have a choice in this type of place.”

You two played and fidgeted with each others hands, listening to his soft voice as he recalled memories of childhood at that very creek. You could hear his small smile when he talked. You never looked away. He knew he needed this, needed his mind to be filled with the sight of your face and past stories that made him lighter.

It felt like it all happened in one second. The jacket that he here wore was eventually wrapped around you, his smell bringing a comfort you didn’t understand. He could still tell that you were upset, your hands tense like you needed something closer.

You ended up on his lap.

His nose brushed against your jaw as your face grew inches apart from his.

“So that’s where you got this from?” You giggle at the little scar just under his chin when he recalled an accident.

“Oh god honeybee, thanks for lettin’ me know you’ve noticed it this whole time.”

“No it’s not bad! It’s small but very… manly?”

He laughed at that, a genuine one, and his fingers twisted with yours. You wish you could stay in this moment forever, where your eyes danced around his in a long tensioned dance.

“I was the stupidest kid, really, whole town laughed at it. Still am.”

You shake your head and gently lean foward to cup his cheek, facing his gaze towards you.

“You’re anythin but stupid, Gator Tillman.” You whisper. “It’s the total opposite of that. I’ve seen it with my very own eyes.”

“Damn pretty eyes.”

“Gator, m’ serious!” You giggle, hair fallen foward to which he tugged behind.

“Fine, serious girl. Maybe I got the smarts from you.”

You roll your eyes and bury yourself in him, your shorts riding up and allowed his hand to rest there. You’ve never felt someone this warm. This good. He was like a blanket, and you were melting into it by the second. He seemed to notice the subtle shift, his demeanor growing quiet and soft, fingers tracing your thigh.

You slightly pull away to look at him, nose nudging his.

“You’re so warm.” You hum.

“My serious girl is warm, huh?”

“Mhm.”

For once in a while, he didn’t doubt you. Because he could see it in your eyes, the way you looked and sounded. You were actually craving his touch, actually tugging him closer because you liked it and wanted it.

He liked it too. He wanted it, wanted you. It scared him.

Before he could even respond, you dipped your head and started to place tender kisses along his jaw. They were deep and lasting, making a quiet sound each time you pulled away. All over his cheeks, his jaw, near his eyes, whispering what you wished you said before about how much you liked his face.

It was like he couldn’t take it anymore.

He slightly nudged his face away, scanned your features, and moved your hair away. Then, his lips met yours.

You let out a soft noise in surprise but quickly melted in his arms when you realized that this was very real. That Gator was breathing in through his nose by how deep he was kissing you, latching your upper lip into his mouth and softly sucking. It felt new to him, kissing someone with actual purpose and gentleness. But with you, it felt like he’s done this a thousand times.

“Fuck.” His voice vibrates down your throat.

And it felt physically impossible for him to stop. He kissed all along your jaw and around your face, your eyes fluttering shut in the pure pleasure of his warm lips on you. Your back arched beneath his hands and he tugged you closer, fingers just etching under the back of your shorts.

You two finally pulled back, and he almost wanted to cry.

You were glowing.

The moon was just perfectly behind you, but shinning you at the same time, highlighting the glisten of your lips. You looked kissed stupid, which you were, your chest heaving up and down. It was a soft, intimate moment, and he craved to press against you.

You slowly leaned forward and gently pushed back a loose strand of his hair, kissing his forehead in the process.

That’s when his eyes started to swell. So he quickly tugged you closer and kissed you again.

It was so slow. His lips slotted like a puzzle to yours, pillowing against you and purely taking his breath away, hands sliding deep into your hair. And when you continued to kiss him back, you tasted a mix of him and salt, your cheeks starting to feel slick.

You pulled away with furrowed eyebrows and saw it. His eyes were glossy and his face was wet.

“Oh, Gate.” You whisper, wiping them away with your thumb, “it’s just me, don’t worry.”

He started to sniff again at your understanding for him. He’s never felt something so real, so pure, and you could tell how deeply it was affecting him.

“Shit, I- fuck.. sorry.” He mumbles, “I’m not cryin’.”

“You don’t have to hide it, it’s okay.”

He shakes his head like all he’s ever done was wrong. “No it’s not. We’re over here kissin and ‘m actin like a baby.”

You stayed quiet and let his last tears fall down his pink cheeks. He hated when people saw tears, and just watched him as he grew more upset and emotional. It didn’t seem to wrong when you did, the way your eyes were gentle and patient.

“Let’s stay here tonight. Okay?” You whisper and all he does was nod, his bottom lip slightly sticking out.

“…Thank you.”

He stayed quiet for a long time, replaying all those sweet moments where you actually enjoyed when he was around. He remembered the way it made him feel seen, like him being there wasn’t something to scowl at.

It escaped him faster than light.

“I like you a lot.” He whispers gruffly.

You blink at him.

He takes a heavy deep breath, knowing that you were letting him continue. “And it… it scares me. I’ve never felt this safe round anyone before, like I can finally relax. I spent my whole damn life isolating myself to focus of work, on my dad. Now I have you, a part of you, and I’ve never wanted to be around someone more. I just… I wish I could take all those years back when I buried myself alone- and I.. I wanna open to you. I’ll try my damn hardest because you deserve that. I’ll try so hard for you.”

Tears started to form in your eyes now, and you looked away out of embarrassment. He just opened his heart out to you, his view, and it was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“Gator…” You whisper proudly.

He gives you a flat, shy look. “I said something dumb, didn’t I.”

“No no god, no. You said everything just perfect.”

“Then why you cryin?” His lips reach to kiss them away.

“Cus I like you too.” Your voice shakes, “a lot lot.”

He chuckles quietly at that, his smile reaching his eyes and with his ears turning pink. He couldn’t strain his eyes away from you and you curled up like a flustered little girl.

“Stop.”

“What?”

“Doing that! Staring at me.”

“You wanna know somethin?”

“Oh no.” You bit back your smile.

He leans foward and gently cups your ear, his lips brushing against it, “…You’re pretty.”

The gesture, his rough voice, was so dear that you wondered if this was even real. You never imagined something this romantic would happen to you after staying at the farm. But there was Gator, looking untouched and himself all because of you.

With the nerve wracking confessions finally done, it was only left with one ending. Sealing the whispered words off with a kiss, so tender that he felt like the world was given to him right then and there.

It was around midnight when everything started to settle, when the summer heat turned mild and breezy. He was emotionally exhausted, filled with feelings for you, and it wore him down. You reassured him a lot after that, and he kissed you in between each word.

Eventually you fell asleep with your face nuzzled into his neck, wrapped in his jacket and listening to the sounds of crickets and gentle water. He held you tighter, eyes trained on the ground as he just thought. You were here, in his arms, away from all the drama at home that was slowly forcing him away from you. He kissed your forehead one last time. He lulled to sleep shortly after, making sure you were completely safe and sleeping against him, like he couldn’t relax until you were.

Gator Tillman knew you. He had you.

And he was finally ready to love.

——

𖦹 holy shit i genuinely reached a flow state because i just love gator so much like pleaseeee i need him

i also miss stranger things so much i tear up anytime i think about it come back to me

[frootybb]

Off the Record

Chap 7: Crossing the Line

Word count: 3.7K

Warnings: NSFW, intense emotional conflict, power imbalance, mentions of family trauma/abuse, toxic dynamics mixed with raw vulnerability, smut (unprotected p/v), rough hate sex, strong language, intense degradation mixed with desperate need, biting/marking, choking (light)

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———————————· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·———————————-

The knock on your motel door at 1:47 AM was loud enough to jolt you out of a shallow, restless sleep. You’d been lying in the same bed from the cabin night, staring at the ceiling for hours, replaying every charged second in that frozen cabin. The almost-kiss. The hand-holding under the blanket. The way Gator’s voice had cracked when he admitted you made him question everything.

You hadn’t expected to see him again so soon. Certainly not like this.

The knocking continued, impatient, heavy, almost angry. You pulled on a hoodie over your thermal shirt and padded to the door, peering through the peephole.

Gator.

Even distorted through the glass, he looked wrecked. Hair disheveled, deputy jacket hanging open over a rumpled shirt, shoulders tense. His hazel-brown eyes were glassy, unfocused. Drunk. Very drunk.

You opened the door but kept the chain on. “Gator. What the hell are you doing here?”

He didn’t wait for an invitation. He braced a hand on the doorframe and pushed, the chain snapping taut. “Open the damn door,” he slurred, voice rough with whiskey and something darker. “We need to talk.”

You hesitated only a second before sliding the chain free. He stumbled inside, bringing a wave of cold air and the sharp scent of alcohol. The door clicked shut behind him. The small motel room suddenly felt suffocatingly tiny.

“You’re drunk,” you said, crossing your arms. Concern warred with irritation and that ever-present, infuriating pull. “Did something happen with Roy?”

Gator laughed, but it came out bitter and jagged. He paced the limited space between the bed and the desk, boots tracking snow and mud onto the carpet. “Everything happened with Roy. The usual. ‘Handle the reporter, boy. Don’t go soft. Tillman men don’t question orders.’” He stopped, turning to face you with wild eyes. “He knows something’s off. He always knows. And it’s your fault.”

“My fault?” Anger flared hot and immediate. After the cabin, after the night you’d spent lying next to each other fighting the pull, this was how he showed up? “You’re the one who keeps coming after me. The raid. The diner. The cabin. You’re the one who almost—”

“Don’t,” he growled, stepping closer. The scent of whiskey was stronger now, mixed with cold air and his usual cologne. “Don’t say it. That shit in the cabin never happened. None of it.”

But it had. And the memory hung between you like smoke, thick, choking, impossible to ignore.

You stepped forward too, refusing to back down. “You’re unbelievable. You storm in here drunk because Daddy yelled at you, and suddenly it’s my fault you’re cracking? Grow up, Gator. You’re not a kid anymore. You’re choosing this. Every time you threaten me, every time you block my sources, you’re choosing him over what you know is right.”

His hazel eyes flashed with pain and rage. He crowded you against the desk, hands bracing on either side of you. The heat of his body cut through the chill he’d brought in. “You think I have a choice?” he snarled, voice low and rough. “You think I don’t know what he is? What this county really runs on? I’ve known since I was twelve and he made me stand in a blizzard for six hours because ‘Tillman men don’t break.’”

The raw admission hit you hard. You could see the boy he’d been, broken and rebuilt in Roy’s image. The man he was now, still trying to live up to that impossible standard. Your anger twisted with unwanted sympathy, making everything more painful.

“Then why keep doing it?” you whispered fiercely. “Why come here tonight? Why not just leave me alone?”

“Because I can’t.” The words tore out of him. His forehead dropped to yours, breath warm and whiskey-scented against your lips. “You’re in my head. In that fucking cabin… lying next to you… I wanted—” He cut himself off with a curse, but his hands moved to your waist, gripping hard. “I hate you for it. I hate how much I want this. Want you.”

The confession cracked the last of your restraint. You fisted your hands in his jacket, the same way you had in the cabin, and yanked him closer. “I hate you too,” you breathed against his mouth. “So fucking much.”

The kiss was desperate, angry, and inevitable.

It wasn’t soft or romantic. It was teeth and frustration and months of building tension exploding all at once. Gator groaned into your mouth, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as he devoured you. The taste of whiskey mixed with the salt of snow on his lips. You kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring every ounce of hatred and unwanted desire into it.

He lifted you onto the desk with shocking ease, stepping between your legs. Papers scattered. Your notebook hit the floor. Neither of you cared. His body pressed against yours, hard and insistent, the evidence of how badly he wanted this unmistakable. You tugged at his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. He let it fall, hands roaming under your hoodie, palms hot against your skin.

“Fuck,” he rasped between kisses, biting at your lower lip. “This is a mistake. Such a fucking mistake.”

“Then stop,” you challenged, nipping back at him. Your fingers twisted in the longer length of his hair, pulling just hard enough to make him groan.

He didn’t stop. He kissed you harder, deeper, like he was trying to punish you and claim you at the same time. The desk creaked under you. The room filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and desperate mouths. Hatred and lust tangled so tightly you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

When you finally broke apart, gasping for air, Gator rested his forehead against yours again. His hands were still on your waist, thumbs stroking circles that felt far too gentle for the violence of the kiss.

“This never happens again,” he whispered fiercely, voice wrecked. “It can’t.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, even as your body screamed the opposite. “Never again.”

But when he kissed you one more time, slower this time, almost tender in its desperation. You both knew it was a lie. The line had been crossed. Violently. Irrevocably.

Gator pulled back eventually, eyes dark and conflicted. He grabbed his jacket from the floor and headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the knob.

“Stay out of trouble,” he said hoarsely. “For both our sakes.”

Then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You slid off the desk on shaky legs, touching your swollen lips. Your body hummed with leftover heat and frustration. The hatred was still there, sharp and real but now it was laced with something far more dangerous.

You both swore it would never happen again.

But deep down, you knew it was only the beginning.

The next morning brought no relief. You woke with the taste of whiskey and Gator still on your tongue. Your notebook lay open on the floor where it had fallen, pages scattered with fresh observations you didn’t remember writing in the haze after he left.

You spent the day avoiding town as much as possible, driving the back roads and trying to regain your professional footing. But every time your mind wandered, it went straight back to the feel of his hands, the roughness of his voice, the way he’d looked at you like you were both salvation and damnation.

Gator, meanwhile, was a mess. He avoided the station, nursing a brutal hangover and the weight of what he’d done. Roy called twice. He ignored both. The memory of your mouth against his haunted him worse than any lecture.

By evening, the pull was already dragging him back toward the motel. He fought it. Lost.

He didn’t knock this time. You opened the door before he could, like you’d been waiting.

“No talking,” he said roughly, stepping inside and kicking the door shut.

You didn’t argue. The second kiss was even more desperate than the first.

This time, neither of you pretended it would be the last.

-

Gator kicked the door shut with his boot, hands grabbing your waist hard enough to bruise as he slammed you back against the wall. The impact rattled the cheap motel mirror. His mouth crashed into yours with zero restraint, all teeth and fury and weeks of pent-up hatred finally exploding.

“Fuck you,” he growled against your lips, biting down hard on your lower lip until you tasted blood. “Fuck you for doing this to me.”

You snarled right back, fisting both hands in that stupid slick back gelled hair and yanking his head down harder. “Then fuck me like you mean it, Tillman.”

The words snapped the last thread of control.

Gator ripped your hoodie and thermal shirt off in one violent motion, fabric tearing. His large hands palmed your breasts roughly, thumbs dragging over your nipples as he shoved a thigh between your legs, grinding against you. You were already soaked. The hatred had been foreplay for weeks, every raid, every stakeout, had built this unbearable pressure. Now it was detonating.

He shoved you toward the bed, both of you stumbling and tearing at clothes. His deputy jacket hit the floor. Your jeans were yanked down with your panties in one go. Gator kicked his boots off, nearly tripping as he shoved his pants and boxers down. His cock sprang free, thick, flushed dark, already leaking at the tip. You hated how much you wanted it. Hated how your mouth watered at the sight.

He pushed you onto the bed on your back and crawled over you like a predator. No gentleness. No hesitation. He shoved your thighs apart roughly and dragged two thick fingers through your folds, groaning at how wet you were.

“Look at you,” he snarled, voice wrecked with whiskey and rage. “Soaking for the man you claim to hate. Pathetic.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, reaching down to wrap your hand around his cock and stroking him hard, thumb swiping over the head. “You’re just as bad. Drunk and desperate for the journalist trying to ruin your daddy’s empire.”

Gator’s eyes flashed with pure fury. He grabbed your wrist, pinning it above your head, and thrust two fingers deep inside you without warning. You cried out, back arching. He fucked you with them roughly, curling hard against that spot that made your vision spark.

“Say it again,” he demanded, adding a third finger, stretching you. “Tell me how much you hate me while your cunt is gripping my fingers like a whore.”

“I hate you,” you gasped, hips rolling desperately against his hand. “I hate your fucking smirk. Hate your loyalty to that monster. Hate how much I need this.”

He pulled his fingers out abruptly, making you whine at the loss. Then he was between your thighs, lining up his cock and thrusting in to the hilt in one brutal stroke.

Both of you groaned, raw, animalistic sounds. He was thick, stretching you perfectly, the burn exquisite. Gator didn’t give you time to adjust. He fucked you like he was trying to punish you, hips snapping hard and deep, the sound of skin slapping skin filthy and loud in the small room.

“Fuck— so tight,” he growled, one hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin. “This what you wanted? My cock ruining this pretty pussy after all that fighting?”

You scratched down his back hard enough to draw blood, legs locking around his waist. “Harder, you bastard. If you’re going to break me, do it right.”

Gator snarled and slammed into you even harder, the bedframe banging against the wall. He leaned down and bit your neck, sucking a dark mark into your skin as he pounded you. Every thrust was angry, desperate, filled with all the tension from the motel raid, the diner confrontation, the one-bed night, the almost-kiss.

You flipped him suddenly, using his surprise and your legs to roll on top. Gator’s eyes widened, then narrowed with fresh rage and lust. You sank back down onto his cock, taking him deep, and started riding him like you were trying to break him.

“Goddamn it,” he groaned, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave fingerprints. “Ride me like you hate me, baby.”

“I do hate you,” you panted, grinding down on him, clit rubbing against his pelvis with every roll of your hips. You leaned forward and bit his collarbone, then his jaw. “Hate how good you feel. Hate how much I’ve wanted this since you first cornered me in my room.”

Gator thrust up to meet you, meeting every bounce with brutal force. Sweat slicked both your bodies. The room smelled like sex and whiskey. He sat up suddenly, wrapping one arm around your back to hold you close while the other tangled in your hair, yanking your head back so he could bite along your throat.

You were both filthy animals now, desperate, snarling, using each other to release every ounce of pent-up hatred and need. He flipped you again, putting you on your hands and knees and slamming back in from behind. The new angle made you cry out, pushing back against him just as hard.

“That’s it,” he grunted, one hand fisting your hair, the other slapping your ass hard. “Take my cock like the stubborn bitch you are. Been thinking about this since the stakeout. Since the cabin. Since you looked at me like you could see every crack.”

You reached back, nails digging into his thigh. “Then fill me up, Tillman. Show me how much you hate me.”

The pace turned punishing. Gator fucked you like a man possessed, deep, brutal strokes that hit every sensitive spot. His hand slipped around to rub your clit roughly, and that was it. You came hard, clenching around him, vision whiting out as you moaned his name like a curse.

He followed right after, burying himself deep and spilling inside you with a broken groan, hips stuttering. “Fuck— take it. Take everything.”

You both collapsed, sweaty and trembling. Gator stayed inside you for a long moment, forehead pressed to your shoulder. The anger was still there, simmering under the surface, but the raw need had been unleashed. For now.

He finally pulled out and rolled onto his back beside you, breathing hard. Neither of you spoke for a long time.

“This changes nothing,” he said eventually, voice hoarse.

“Liar,” you whispered back.

But you both knew the truth. The slow burn had finally broken. And there was no going back.

. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁. . ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁. . ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁. . ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁

Taglist: @stydiaforeverbitchezz @keerygirlie98 @exooojongdaeee @stoneyggirl @gatorgirlie @soggycerealtbh @whispersoflost @louisbelongstome28 @needylittlebabyintherain @silkscreams @ulalalauwu @lacywithdrawal @stoneyggirl2 @sanctumdemunson @luminousdoomsellsword @shecleansup @kristywidget97 @amy-brooklyn99 @steviaorsugar @maaaachiii

[entrenoussir]

Homewrecker (Gator Tillman x Reader) - Completed

Story Masterlist

Gator grew up in a broken home - and eventually vowed that he'd never behave like his father. But when a familiar situation begins to unfold in front of his very eyes, does he have what it takes to be better for you?

tw/cw: discussions/memories of domestic violence, assault, & intimate partner violence, controlling boyfriend, discussion of injuries, Gator is NOT the asshole this time, blood, general violence, no use of y/n

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

[dorchakeery]

Good night only to his back 😛

[entrenoussir]

Joe Keery Characters Masterlist

{all the fics I've written for the JKCU - trigger warnings on individual fics as needed! no use of y/n on any of my fics}

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steve Harrington

One Shots:

Steve Harrington x Reader - Yeah, I Thought So

Steve Harrington x Reader - Behave

Steve Harrington x Reader - Damnation

Steve Harrington x Reader - Admit It

Steve Harrington x Reader - Haircut

Steve Harrington x Reader - So Tired

Steve Harrington x Walter "Keys" McKey x Reader - Sharing is Caring

Walter "Keys" McKey

Walter "Keys" McKey Headcanons

NSFW Alphabet - Walter "Keys" McKey Edition

Multi-Chapters:

Walter "Keys" McKey x Reader - Elegant

Walter "Keys" Mckey x Reader - Elegant Bonus Chapter

Walter "Keys" McKey x Reader - Try Me (Part 1)

Walter "Keys" McKey x Reader - Try Me (Part 2)

Tethered (Walter "Keys" McKey x Reader) - Series Masterlist -

One Shots:

Walter "Keys" McKey x Reader - Always Ruin The Friendship

Walter "Keys" McKey x Reader - Both

Walter "Keys" McKey x Reader - Happy Birthday

Walter "Keys" McKey x Reader - Stay Like This Forever

Walter "Keys" McKey x Reader - Shoulders

Walter "Keys" McKey x Reader - Officer McKey

Gator Tillman

NSFW Alphabet - Gator Tillman Edition

Multi-Chapters:

Small World, Ain't It? (Gator Tillman x Reader) Series Masterlist - Completed

City Girl (Gator Tillman x Reader) - Series Masterlist - Completed

We Were Friends (Gator Tillman x Reader) Series Masterlist - In Progress

Gator Tillman x Reader - Homewrecker (Part 1)

Gator Tillman x Reader - Homewrecker (Part 2)

Gator Tillman x Reader - Homewrecker (Part 3) - In Progress

One Shots:

Gator Tillman x Reader - Penance

Gator Tillman x Reader - Hide n Seek

Gator Tillman x Reader - Cry, Baby

Gator Tillman x Reader - Bloody Good Time

Gator Tillman x Reader - Who You Belong To

Gator Tillman x Reader - Rough Edges

Gator Tillman x Reader - Two Little Words

Gator Tillman x Reader - Sundress

Gator Tillman x Reader - Say It

Gator Tillman x Reader - I Love You, I'm Sorry

Gator Tillman x Reader - I Can Be Tough

Gator Tillman x Reader - Records Room

[entrenoussir]

City Girl (Gator Tillman x Reader) - Completed

Story Masterlist

You grew up alongside Gator Tillman - but to him, you'll always be the one who got away. What happens when you're both all grown up & he finds you again?

TW/CW: toxic + obsessive Gator, childhood friends to Something, no use of y/n, mentions of loss of virginity, mentions of violence, actual violence, death, kidnapping, groping, forced kissing, mentions of assault.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

[entrenoussir]

We Were Friends (Gator Tillman x Reader) - In Progress

Story Masterlist

Back in town after the death of your parents, an old childhood friend/annoyance makes an unwelcome reappearance. Gator Tillman already lost you once - he doesn’t plan on letting it happen again.

TW/CW: smut, groping, Gator being a possessive piece of shit (fork found in kitchen), no use of y/n, car sex, oral, discussion of birth control, shower sex, sex w dubious consent, non-con somnophilia, death of parents mentioned, SA/non-con, overdose.

We Were Friends (Part 1)

We Were Friends (Part 2)

We Were Friends (Part 3)

We Were Friends (Part 4)

We Were Friends (Part 5)

We Were Friends (Part 6)

[babycowboy24]

save a horse, ride a cowboy