you missed my heart🐈‍⬛

⋆˙⟡ sav, she/her, 21

⋆˙⟡ august leo ♌︎ , cat lover ⪩. .⪨, at harrys house ୨୧, taylors bff -`♡´-

⋆˙⟡ ask me to write about: Steve Harrington (Stranger Things), Gator Tillman (Fargo), Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds), Kurt Krunkle (Spree), Michael Robinavitch (The Pitt), Joel Miller (The last of us) .ᐟˎˊ˗

⋆˙⟡ requests are open!!! or feel free to ask questions, send messages, whatever you'd like!! .𖥔 ݁ ˖

⋆˙⟡ masterlist!

⋆˙⟡ please do not copy, translate, or steal my work.. i don't do tag lists! ★彡

wc: 2.6k

summary: Being in a relationship with Gator means you get a nickname, if only he could pick one that felt perfectly you.

cw: some fluff, mainly smut, porn w plot vibes, mentions of gator picking you up, p in v, female anatomy, bratty!reader, one mention of church, sub!r, dom!gator, power roles, r! hands tied, spit play, begging, pet names, kinda mean gator, some manhandling, slapping your boobs, no protection (bad!!), creampie, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: *taps mic* haiiii..... im back with something cray! i saw the pic on Pinterest and i had to write abt it!!! also im struggling writing for Steve baaad. while my writers block goes away enjoy this ;)

Gator absolutely loved giving you a nickname. Even if it was one that he only used once, related specifically to the moment at hand, and it doesn't have that charm most names have. He thought those were the best types. 

So when you two first started dating he kept trying new ones out. 

At first it was the normal nickname, just a shorter version of your name. A step above what everyone else calls you, something that only the people close to you can use. Then that got boring because it somehow still felt superficial. Knowing that someone you went to school with had the privilege of calling you by the shortened name to then never speak to you after graduation. 

He was more than that to you, just like you were more than that to him. Which meant that he had to go up a step. Names that are tried and true to many relationships. Like the classic ‘babe’ or ‘sweetheart’. Simple pet names that have been around for forever and have been used more than anyone could count. 

But he’d find out quickly that those just didn't stick. They didn't feel like you and they certainly didn't feel right coming out of his mouth. And yeah maybe you could chalk it down to the lack of romance Gator can give. How unnatural it felt to be all lovey dovey and letting everyone hear about it. It wasn't that he wasn't willing to do it, but it definitely didn't come easy for him. 

Then there were names that were just off limits, ones he didn't want to bother trying. The usage of ‘honey’ had been over done to him. Specifically by the old ladies down at the diner who always pass the name on like they know him enough for it. And if they did, they’d know he actually couldn't be further from it. To him it was some childish name that meant they didn't see him as the superior that he was. As if he didn't run the town with his dad. 

And speaking of, Roy has ruined a good amount of pet names for Gator as well. 

Any woman his old man comes across got a ‘darlin’, something to give a facade that he was kind and respectful. Like he didn't call them cunts or bitches the second they turned their back. But if you caught him out at the bar it’d be something along the lines of ‘sugar’ like he’d be deserving of something so sweet. 

To say this didn't leave Gator with many terms of endearment was an understatement. If he even bothered to ask you, you’d say that you’re fine with whatever he wanted to call you. Because no matter what the name was the way he’d say it sounded like he really meant it. Although him caring so much about it definitely wasn't a bad thing, the opposite actually. 

It was a sweet gesture. Good to know he cared enough about it, that it felt that important to him. And it did make sense he didn't want to use some generic name that he’s heard his father use. Almost as if the words he was saying held no meaning. Just something he knew would get him what he wanted. 

He even changed your viewpoint on the whole thing, because he’s right, who would want a name that everyone has? Gators name is unique, something you had nicknames for the second you met him. Normally he’ll get a ‘Gates’ and if you feel like annoying him ‘Alligator’ will slip past your lips. In the beginning of your relationship he’d huff and puff about it but as the time passed his cheeks turn red at the simple sound. 

That’s when ‘angel’ came to be. Only a few months in of dating, still in the honeymoon phase of getting to know each other, loving everything you're seeing and hearing. It’s simply how Gator felt about you. Like when you would still go to church bright and early despite staying up way past your bedtime to talk to him, or when you make his lunch for work and add a sweet note, even more so when he comes home to a nice meal that you say is ‘made with love’. 

How could he not see you as anything but an angel? 

The name was exactly what he needed out of a partner. A true angel that acted as such even when he was much less than. A partner he could flaunt and talk about to his dad to show just how responsible and becoming he is. As if you being perfect somehow made him similar, despite everything everyone knew about him already. Or maybe it was that someone like him could be deserving of someone like you. 

Either way the name only lasted so long. Soon enough the few months turned into longer and you both opened up more. Feeling more comfortable with expressing feelings, wants, needs– all of the serious stuff Gator never thought he could handle. 

Shortly after, a new nickname popped into your boyfriend's mind. One he could only find out once you two settled down in your routines and ways. By spending more time together, remaining side by side, he was able to see more of you. 

Like when you hear his loud truck blaring music pull into the driveway you’re instantly waiting by the doorway. Rocking back and forth on your heels in anticipation of him being home. And once he does come in is when you’d pounce, small jumps up and down until he sets his work bag down and gives you what you've been waiting all day for. 

A kiss is first and a hug is second, the motion is the same each time. You’re already on your tippy toes from hopping so it makes sense to catch his lips with yours. After that is when the name comes. 

“Saw ya hoppin’ from the window. Missed ya all day bunny.” 

It was like the more you grew together the more you became obsessed with him. The long work shifts he has followed by long night shifts do a number on your heart each time. Sometimes the only time you see him is when he’s going to bed. Which makes each time he comes home at a reasonable time so exciting. 

Gator also found out he can still call you that even when you’re upset. When he’s probably done something wrong like not listening to you or having an attitude the reaction he gets matches perfectly. It’s when an argument or disagreement has gone on for too long and you don't have it in you to be mature anymore. Yet there's still a little room for push and shove. 

 That's when he’ll get a little thump out of you. Not crazy like a child but enough that he can tell you're irritated and need to put it somewhere. And then if an apology doesn't come your way the thump warrants a pout and maybe some whining if you’re really annoyed. 

Each time it happens it ends the same way. He’s even started to think that you do it on purpose just to get a reaction out of him. With one arm, he easily lifts you over his shoulder, keeping a steady hand on the backs of your thighs to make sure you don't slip– or kick.

“Can’t thump now can ya bunny?” 

You don't bother fighting him, knowing exactly where he’ll take you. He doesn't even try using the door handle instead kicking it open with his shoe, grip on you still so tight you wouldn't doubt that there will be small bruises tomorrow. 

When he does let you down on the bed it seems your attitude hasn't changed. From the living room to the bedroom you somehow got worse, giving him an eye roll while you lay back. A type of energy that's dangerous around Gator, because if there's one thing he expects it’s respect. 

So you get a new name, one only reserved for special moments like this. When you just can't act right and he needs to put you in your place. 

“Ya wanna act like a brat y’er gonna get treated like one.” His voice is hoarse and rough as he picks up your pink fuzzy scarf from off the hook.

Making a ‘gimme’ motion you know exactly what he’s asking for. Still you give him your wrists with no complaints, watching him tie the fabric as tight as he can. If you really needed to you could get out, but you don't and the fluffy material is much better than his usual cuffs. 

Normally your clothes would be taken off one by one as he kisses along your body, giving your tits the attention they deserve before devouring your cunt. Getting you ready for his cock that is pressing up against his tight pants. Already feeling the wetness in his underwear from his precome. It’s all an experience but not one you’ll get today. 

Because today you aren't deserving of it and his dick has been hard since your foot hit the floor and leaking since you rolled your eyes. He’s way past working you up and it’s apparent he doesn't care either. Instead he just pushes your tanktop up to your chin, exposing your breasts, giving one of them a slap that gets a gasp out of you. 

That gives Gator an advantage to attack your lips as his hand that's not holding him up above you tugs your shorts and underwear down. It’s quick and you raise your hips to help him, the action even has your core touching his bulge and it’s pathetic how hard you try to grind on him from this arched angle. Needing anything that he’s willing to give. 

“Y’really think y’can act like that and still get what ya want huh?” His hand comes back to your face, grabbing at your cheeks and pinching them together. “So fucking desperate, actin’ like you haven’t had dick a day in y’re life.” 

“Please Gate please please.” You prove his point by begging on and on only to get a smirk in response. 

“Awe y’need it real bad dontcha?” All you can muster is a nod back. “Barely even touched you and y’re already beggin’. What’da want from me, wanna hear ya say it outloud.” 

“Need your mouth Gator please.” 

You should know better by now that begging only gets you so far. While you say it all you can hear is the sound of him undoing his belt, throwing the leather and metal on the ground followed by his camo pants and boxers. Both of you are basically at the same level of undressed besides your tanktop stuck from your hands tied above your head. 

“Y’know if y’werent such a fuckin’ brat maybe you’d get that.” You throw your head back and let out a whine at his words. Frustrated you aren't getting what you want and also that whatever he is gonna do to you he isn't doing it fast enough. “Open.” 

His words make you bring your head back up and off the pillow seeing his two fingers waiting for your open mouth. When you do open it his fingers slide right in, you swirl your tongue around his digits and even hollow out your cheeks to give him a little something. Anything really to make him hurry this up and touch you. 

Either he read your mind or your plan worked because he takes them back to spread open your pussy lips, using the two wet fingers to give him easier access. Before you can process what he’s doing you can hear him spit. Shooting the liquid directly onto your open cunt and sliding it around as a lube. The simple touch of his hand on you has you grinding your hips upwards earning you his other hand on your pelvis to pin you down. 

“Hurry up and fucking touch me Gator.” You feel and sound like you’re about to break out in tears. But that doesn't put him off by any means. 

Instead he gives your tits another hit but stronger this time, leaving a clear hand mark that glows bright red on your skin. It’s a real good thing Gator rarely calls you angel anymore because saying that about you would just be a straight up lie, a total sin. You’re fitting into your new name more and more.

“Sounds like I gotta fuck the brat outta ya hm? Can't just be lectured, gotta pound it into ya for it to stick.” 

Following his words he finally takes his dick and gives it a few pumps. Rubbing the glossy pink tip against your core, even slapping it against your clit causing you to jolt. It doesn't take long for him to go from rubbing against you to using his thumb to push his dick in your tiny hole. He’s surprised by how much he can feel you try to suck him in just from the tip. 

A sigh falls from your lips and it’s enough to give Gator the okay to sink in deeper. It’s a struggle to pull out and not push further in. Half of him felt the warmth and softness of you and the other stuck with his hand. 

This next time he doesn't bother to wait for a sigh or any word from you that it’s ok to move, he just does. It takes you by surprise and brings a delicious sting you weren't expecting. Your arms even fall from above your head, reaching out for him in any way but he just pushes them back up. Pressing them even further into the pillow under your head practically using you as leverage to fuck into you harder. 

His speed only quickens at a relentless pace. Getting moans and pants out of you from the switch up. You find purchase with the headboard, using it to stabilize you in any way possible. Unknowingly trying to slide out of Gators grip from how overwhelming the feeling is. 

“So-so deep. So good, can feel you everywhere.” 

“Yeah? Think you learned your lesson?” 

Feeling so fucked out it’s hard to respond let alone watch what he’s doing it. Giving him a small ‘mhm’ that's hidden under the noises his body is making against yours. Skin slapping against skin, while he makes the most divine sounds above you. It’s all a lot to handle. 

So much so that he’s got to try a new tactic to get your attention. Soon you feel his hand cupping your jaw, forcing you to look right at him. “Hey. Answer me.” 

“Yes. Yeah, mhm.” Truthfully you forgot what his question was but he takes the response just fine. 

Gator can feel you squeezing him tighter than before which makes him pick up his pace. Letting his fingers circle your clit making you get those butterflies in your belly. The coiling feeling that you have been trying to chase. 

“Y’re close, can feel it. C’mon bunny you got it. Come for me.” 

His words perfectly spur you on, leading you exactly where you need to be. Your pussy pulses around Gators dick, doing just enough for him to cum right after you. Both of you are out of breath and sweaty as he fills you up. It’s warm and you can even feel it drip down your thigh, following to your ass. 

He lets his body fall on yours, using your boobs as a pillow. It doesn't even register to him that you've removed your hands from his ‘cuffs’ till he feels your fingers in his hair. Something you know that melts him into a puddle. 

“So are you gonna get up or?” He can hear the smile in your voice. It’s enough to make him pull his head up from your chest, resting his chin on your sternum before gently giving it little kisses. 

wc: 2.4k

summary: Going to the library to find a book on the physics of beating Vecna turns into something completely different once Steve meets you.

cw: season 5 plot line, Steve and Dustin arguing, fluffff, meet cute, working at a library, nothing crazy :)

Agreeing to drive Dustin to the library might've been Steve's worst idea all day. 

He was already a little out of the loop of things from being late due to needing gas and now he’s stuck with the person he can't stand. Just loud and wrong about everything lately and it’s not exactly a thing Steve can prioritize right now. Not because he doesn't care but he can't care if the world is ending. 

That's why they are on the way to the library in the first place. Needing some chem or physics book, he didn't feel the need to actually pay attention when they were discussing it. Didn't even bother asking about it on the drive there. The drive was completely silent by the way, only the sound of the radio making the tense air breathable. 

And when they did arrive Dustin made a note to slam his passenger side door. A little something he knew Steve would hate and get irritated by. Which he did, yelling after the kid who was 15 steps ahead but his words went through one ear and out the other. Even when the older boy did make it to the doors he watched the tall glass shut right in his face. No friend to hold it open or to apologize when he hears it shut behind him to then open a second after followed by a clear scoff. 

So to say Steve parted ways with Dustin the second that he entered the cool AC building would be an understatement. While he saw curly hair make its way through the aisles to his left he went to his right. Slowly making his way through this building he’s never been in a day in his life, taking in what's around him. 

Truthfully he’s bored here. Not even a minute in and he wants to head back, feeling like all they're doing is wasting time. He’d be more helpful doing something hands on, not walking around pretending to read the spines of books that sound incredibly boring. 

But right when he was about to make a U-turn to go into the next aisle he saw you. 

You were checking someone out; scanning a book, swiping some cards, having a basic chat. Steve thought to himself if he knew you. You’d look to be around his age and that would be you went to high school with him at some point. But he’s blanking because if he had seen you before he would've never forgotten you. 

Still he makes another round to a new aisle, this section is fiction while the other was non-fiction. Reading these titles he even thinks they might be something he could get behind. Way better than the boring works the other bookcase had. The bright colors of these books pull him in as well, feeling brave enough to slip one out and read the back of it. 

“Hi, would you like any help?” You ask, a professional smile glued to your face. 

Now you coming up behind him was not something he expected. First off him being stuck in a book might be words that have never been said outloud, second he didn't hear you at all– which resulted in a slight jump of shock from him. 

“Oh! Uh, no thanks I’m just looking around.” 

“Okay, well if you need anything I’m around. Because, well um, you are in the high schoolers book section.” You point to the small sign above Steve's head that reads ‘fiction: 9-12’. 

This is why Steve doesn't go to these types of places. It’s like they're made to embarrass him at any chance given. And he’s sure you can tell he’s embarrassed by how red he probably is. Quickly putting the book in his hands back to the shelf. 

“I came in here with a friend, I'm just waiting around y’know.” It’s a weak excuse as you clearly saw him deeply reading that book but he is telling the truth. 

His excuse is somewhat refreshing. More times than not guys like him come in looking for something to impress a girl. Nothing like a nice lie to start a relationship for a girl to think you’re something you're not. You’ve begun to get quite an opinion about it, so when you catch them you try to make it a fun game. But the boy in front of you seems to be a little different. 

“I mean if you’re just wasting time we could try and find you a book you’d like?” Yes this is part of your job description, but truthfully he’s cute and you’re bored at the front. Who doesn't love a book recommendation? 

“I’m really not that big of a reader, I couldn't even tell you what I like or don't like about a book.” His hand scratches the back of his neck, somehow even more humiliated that he isn't knowledgeable about this. 

To Steve’s credit he knows a lot of things. Like everything about every sport, how to talk to people, work any bare minimum job, be a shoulder to cry on, even a little bit on how to fix a car. All of these things he can do with confidence, but talking to a girl who is obviously book smart isn't something he wants to be put up against. Honestly you’re catching him at a bad time. With all the stress he’s not at his best. Not flirting the best or catching onto jokes with sarcasm. It’s all kinda a mess in his head. 

You can probably sense it on him with the beat he takes. “It’s totally okay, we don't have to if you’re not feeling it. But I always like to say there's a book for everyone.”

Your words are piquing his interest and your looks are sealing the deal. With a quick look through the spaces between the shelves Steve sees Dustin nose deep in a book. “Why not? Let's do it.”

“Great! For starters do you think you’d be more into fiction or non-fiction?” 

“Fiction I think?” In his eyes non-fiction is just some book an old person wrote to write about their old life.

“And what type of movies do you like? That’ll help me get a gauge on the genres you're into.” 

You’re leading him to a new aisle while asking him all of this. Looking and reading some titles to shake your brain and see if he’d like it based on the little info he’s said and the vibes he gives off. Steve can't remember the last time he was able to multitask like this. Fully in your space and ready to take a fight on possibly the worst customer you've had working here.

“Oh easy Animal House, Star wars– with the teddy bears obviously it’s the best one– uh what was the last one..” 

“So maybe a sci-fi, possibly comedy.” You mutter more so to yourself but Steve hears it as if you spoke it to him. 

“Fast times! That's the name, okay yeah those are my top three movies. Love ‘em.” 

“Would you be into horror?” 

Any other time in Steve's life he’d say yes. Right now when the world is on the line and a million scary things happen around him, horror isn't really what he wants to read late at night when he needs to wind down. 

“Maybe let’s skip on that one.” 

“Noted.” You try to fight a smile and he catches it as soon as it happens. Realizing that this grown man is turning down a horror book. Something that isn't real and can't hurt him. 

But before he can back himself up you bend down, reading books on the lowest shelf. And yeah Steve's a man, a man with needs so do his eyes go to your ass? Of course they do. And the jeans you have on are doing the lord's work. It only gets worse when you kneel down giving into the low shelf to grab a book. 

“Okay, this one is sci-fi but it’s on the shorter side and has a humorous charm to it.” You state, handing him the book. “Read the back and see if you’re into it.” 

It’s hard for him to truly listen to your words because you’re kneeled in front of him with big eyes waiting for his reaction to the book. To say Steve hasn't had a dream or two about doing some stuff in a library would be a lie, and right now that’s where his brain is at. Not the book you spent your hard earned time to find or the way he should be rushing Dustin to get out. 

What really seals the deal is Steve putting his hand out to help lift you back up on your feet. You’re quick to grab onto him, showing how small your hand is in his, and thanking him for offering it. From an outsider's perspective it could look kind, definitely gentlemanly– certainly not what Steve is thinking it means. 

Still he finds it in himself to push through his perverted thoughts. Chalking it up to the lack of sex he’s gotten from all of this end of the world bullshit. So he reads through the description on the back of the book. Trying to look as interested as he can to make it look like you found a perfect book. Which maybe you did, however, he certainly won't know what a good book is till he’s read a few so for now he’ll take your word. 

“This sounds really good.” He smiles at you. 

“Yeah? I think you’ll like it. I read it a little while ago when I was tired of the stuff I was reading, it was a good palette cleanse.” 

“Cool, hey listen I was wondering if I could-” 

“STEVE?” Dustin yells out. 

A sigh comes out past Steve's lips, head falling in defeat. Disappointed and extremely done with Dustin at this point. He gives the shyest whistle to get the kids attention which works, the curly headed boy makes his way to where the two of you stand. 

“What are you doing? I’ve never been here and even I know you can't yell in a library.” Steve lectures, one hand on his hip while the other holding the book points at him. 

“Wait, you've never been here? Do you not have a library card?” Honestly the library card is normally what stops people because of the monthly payment, if you’d known this you might've not gone through with searching so hard. 

“A library card what?” His head turns back to you and now he’s feeling stupider and stupider. Paired with a kid who has zero manners in a public space. 

“Relax dingus, I have a library card.” Dusitn replies before you give the rundown. Only then realizing why you’re with Steve and why there's a book in his hand. “Hey wait, are you reading your first book ever?” 

His words rile Steve with ease, and before he knows it the book in his hand raises high to fall back down on the kid.

“Hey, you break it, you buy it.” Your hand goes straight to his bicep, somehow trying to stop him despite it being his other arm making the action. Still your touch is enough to stop him in his tracks, shocked by your movements and yearning for more all at the same time. 

“Aren’t I already buying it?” 

“Jesus fucking christ, you rent it!” 

Almost as if on que both you and Steve simultaneously go after Dusitn together. “Language!” 

“This is a library, not a playground. No yelling and no cursing.” 

In a classic high schooler fashion the boy rolls his eyes and turns around. “I don't even have a playground.”  

You and Steve follow him up to the front to check out. Walking a little past the guys to get behind the counter to get into the computer. The kid you now know to be named Dustin hands you his library card which you take a swipe, scanning their books next. The whole process takes less than two minutes and it reminds you how boring it’ll be once these two leave. Already missing the small bubble of chaos you were put into for 30 minutes, removing you from your slightly boring job. 

“Oh hey weren't you about to ask me something earlier?” You turn to Steve, trying to remind him of his previous words. Hoping he says what you think he was planning on saying before you two got interrupted. 

Although it seems like you’re still not quite alone because Dustin turns his head to see the older boy will say. Both of your eyes on him makes his cheeks heat up, not great being put on the spot. “Y’know I don't even remember what I was gonna say.”

The look of disappointment is hard to hide but you do your best. Because you did just meet him but within the short amount of time he’s been here you had the best time you've had all day. Already dreading when they leave and the quietness settles back down. When the only people who come up to you are kids or old people who have serious attitude. 

“Well maybe by the time you return the book you’ll remember.” A shrug follows your words, trying not to come off as crazy for enjoying his company so much. 

“Yeah, definitely. And I'll keep you updated on how the book goes.” He gestures holding the book up and you nod in agreement. 

“Okay, I hope you enjoy it.” Your words are genuine and it makes his heart beat all the faster. 

“Thanks, I’ll um, see you soon?” 

Dustin has to stop himself from physically gagging at your interaction. Just completely going in circles with what you both want. The thought of just walking out and waiting for Steve popped up in his mind but he doubts the lovestruck boy would even catch him doing it, too enthralled with you to think or notice anything else. 

Giving him another feverish nod, unable to hide how giddy he makes you, you say your goodbyes. Not exactly trusting the words to come out of your mouth. He copies your actions and backs up a bit, giving you a wave goodbye. 

Similar to before Dustin gives another ‘Steve!’ but this time a hushed version so he doesn't get in trouble. The effect is all the same, getting the older boy away from you and out the door but only with another wave goodbye pointed towards you. 

(Can make it smutty or fluffy idm)

first kiss!

wc: 3.2k

summary: After a bad first date you call your best friend Steve to come over. And once he hears how bad it went he offers to help you out.

cw: first kiss, inexperienced! r, experienced! Steve, both of you are in hs, friends to lovers, baby mention of a nonconsensual kiss by your bad date, fluffff, sweetness, maybe bad writing from being away for forever! lmk if i missed anything :p

a/n: thank you too very much for the request, i appreciate ur patience with me :').. ive had the worlds worst case of writers block but here i am giving it my all. allsooo i would like to do a pt 2 to this if you guys like it! lmk in comments or requests <33

“So he didn't offer to open the car door for you and he didn't walk you back to the front door. Those are the only reasons you all of a sudden hate him?” 

“It just wasn't a match Steve, I don't know.” 

Right now Steve is sitting on your bed while you are taking your makeup off in the bathroom. He’s at your place after you dramatically called him saying you had the worst date of your life, a date that Steve pushed you to go on. 

“But aren't those easy fixes? I'm sure if you’d tell him he’d do it. Guys are easy like that.” He’s currently throwing a ball in the air and catching it. Before he was making it hit the ceiling but you got on him about it due to the weak integrity of your house and the late hour of the night. 

“I mean those are two things you do for me and I never asked you to do it.” You try your best to hide the sigh that follows your words. Crushed that apparently the only guy with good qualities is your best friend.

“Yeah well I’m not an idiot, plus this is like your third date ever you can't write the whole thing off from a few bad experiences.” 

Steve can hear you flip the light switch off and when he sees you walk out of the bathroom the sad puppy dog look on your face makes him feel even worse. Because while a first date is just a night out for him, this was serious to you. And he knew you didn't want to do it but he tried to be a good friend and hype you up, only for you to come back feeling even worse. 

With a fresh bare face and an old t-shirt Steve gave you a while ago you sit on your bed with him. Pulling the covers over your legs as you fold your arms across your chest, trying to beat the defeated look that's practically oozing out of you. You can tell by the look on his face he feels bad, busy trying to read you so he can say the right thing and fix you right up. 

“That wasn't all that happened.” You mumble out, eyes stuck on his hand now resting on your covered knee, focused on the heat from his hand bleeding through the fabric of your blanket. 

“What? What else happened?” His tone is so sincere, basically covered in sweet honey that could cure anything. 

Your hands go straight to cover your face that you now feel getting redder by the second. “He tried to kiss me.” 

The words are muffled by your hands and low in sound but Steve understands you all the same. The way your telling him makes him want to laugh, simply because of how different a kiss is to you than him. But then his brain reminds him how you've been withholding this from him for the whole hour he’s been there in your room so there must be a reason. 

“Was he a bad kisser?” 

“I think he just straight up tried to make out with me.” You’re hoping Steve can't tell how hard you’re cringing at the retelling of your first ever kiss with your hands over your face. Although the tone of your voice is honestly giving it all away. 

“You think? Have you never made out with someone?” 

Another difference between you and Steve is he talks to Tommy about kisses with girls not you, and you don't speak about kisses because of your blatant lack of them. Which means in his mind you’ve had kisses here and there, maybe at a party or on a different date. You were beautiful who wouldn't want to kiss you? 

“No, I’ve never kissed anyone.” 

“Kissed as in a peck or kissed as in made out.” His fire round of questioning is making you regret telling all of this, now on top of your bad date your best friend gets to hear how little of action you get. 

“I’ve done neither of those things.” 

Steve goes quiet for a second and it’s enough for you to want to crawl out of your skin. Embarrassed and tired from all the emotions the day has brought you, all you can do is scoot down as far as you can go before being blocked by Steve's body and cover yourself with the covers. Choosing to hide under the hot quilt than face your friend and witness his reaction. 

His presence is both a blessing and a curse at this moment. On one hand you’d hate to have dealt with all of your feelings alone, on the other you hate how open you are with him. How easy it is to bare all of your thoughts to someone who couldn't be more different or understand less. 

“Hey now, cmon it’s not like that's a bad thing. Tons of people our age haven't done all that. It’s not like you’re the only person on this planet to go through this.” His hands are feeling your covered body out, trying to find a leg or arm to kindly rub soothing circles on. Your legs are pressed against his thigh so lucky he finds them first. 

“I'd bet all my money I'm the only girl in Hawkins to go through this.” 

You’re insanely dramatic about it, Steve’s glad you can't see him roll his eyes. “That's not true at all.” 

“Who do you know who hasn't had a kiss in our grade?” 

Truthfully Steve doesn't know anyone who hasn't had a kiss but the people he knows aren't anything like you. Nowhere near as kind or funny so it doesn't even make sense to compare. The people he knows are all from parties that he’s been to, not the kids in his class who actually pay attention and learn. 

So he lies. A white baby lies just to get you out from under the covers. “Theres a ton of people I know who haven't kissed anyone. But you can't compare everything you do to kids in our grade.” 

And his tactic works. You slither out from the covers, still probably red but this time from the heat that you were suffocated by under there. Hair a little staticy but Steve thinks you look pretty even with hairs flying in different directions. 

His words are helpful to hear, a break from the thoughts in your head and a clear voice that’s not clouded by insecurity and disappointment. Although it doesn't break your crossed arms or the pout that's seemingly sewn into your face. Finally letting go of the dramatics of everything and settling down in the fact that this is how your nights gone. 

Instead of reading a book or watching a movie you spent it getting ready for an unreasonable amount of time, to then waste an hour and a half with someone who never had a chance, and then later to completely break down in front of the one person you want to see you at your best always. It’s a day you wish you could erase but you're thankful you had all at the same time. 

“What if I graduate without ever having kissed anyone?” Now instead of focusing on him your eyes are pointed to the ceiling, the one Steve was staring at just a few moments ago. 

Right now Steve can feel the sadness radiating off of you. Which is why he meets you where you are, laying on his back right next to you. And while you're busy stuck in your head he can only look at you. His eyes can't go anywhere else, only admiring your lashes that are somehow still curled despite taking your makeup off, or your lips that are a bright pink from how much you've been biting them. 

“What do you mean? You just kissed someone tonight.” 

A bad joke, terrible timing, an unbelievably dumb idea. And yet a smile breaks your frown, he can see it and a sliver of your teeth as you turn your head away from him. Not letting him see how something so bad could get you so easily. 

“Stop it.” You draw out. “I’m talking about a real, serious kiss.” 

The two of you sit in silence, soaking your words up before Steve speaks up again.

“I could give you a real, serious kiss.” 

That turns your head quickly, finally looking at him eye to eye for what feels like the first time in the past hour. “What?” 

“I can be your first, y'know, give you a real good experience so you don't hate it and never do it with any guy ever again.” 

Steve moves from his back to lay on his side, holding his head up with a hand that slightly smushes his cheek. If his eyes weren't flicking between your eyes and your lips you’d almost think you were dreaming or making this all up. Some weird hallucination that your mind made up from the lack of attention or something. But his eyes on you feel too real and his question is too much. 

“You don’t think that would mess anything up?” 

“No, it’d just be a small kiss. Just so you can say you've done it and know how to do it. Then you can feel more confident about it.” 

“I’d just hate for it to be weird between us afterward, I mean id be so sad if this ruined our friendship and-” 

“Hey, hey we don't have to do it. It was just a suggestion to help you out.” 

You don't hate the suggestion. Not one bit. You’d hate the aftermath if it ends up being a bad idea, but you also think that you and Steve are stronger than some awkward kiss. So even if it does make some impact you have hope it wouldn't be a thing that breaks you two up. And really what's one small kiss?

“We can do it.” You nod, confirming your words as an extra measure. 

He gets up from his spot in your bed, now using the hand that was holding his head to hold his weight from having nothing behind his back. “You sure? I’m not tryna put pressure on you or anything.” 

“Yeah I'm sure. I mean it’s just one kiss right?” You copy his actions, getting up from your spot. The distance between you hasn't changed from where you were laying down but now that you’re both up it feels like there's less room. Or maybe both of your bodies are gravitating towards each other without you knowing. 

“Exaclty, just to get the hang of it.” 

“Okay.” 

It’s clear to see this is your first consensual kiss because you just sit there still. Unsure of who makes the move or when to lean in– basically any of the clues. And Steve’s evil so he revels in it, enjoying the fact that he’s your first and getting to see you like this. Cheeks warm and pink and eyes slightly glossy from the long day you've had. Fully trusting him in the moment after everything you went through today. In his eyes there was no greater compliment. 

“You wanna take a breath?” He jokes.

“What?”

“You’re like frozen, can't kiss if you’re like a statue it’s gotta have a flow to it.” Steve shakes out his hands as if he's preparing himself but really he just wants you to think he is in a similar boat to you. And in some way he is. He’s kissing his best friend who he’s had a crush on for forever. 

“I don't know what I’m doing Steve, I literally told you. I– what are you doing?” 

“Putting on music, we gotta set the mood.” The record player in your room rests on your dresser which Steve has used a million times. He always picks a Beatles record and tonight's no different. 

“Do we really need all of this for one kiss?” 

“Do you think you’re gonna be able to relax in silence? It’ll just distract your mind a bit.”

He honestly makes a good point. If he sat right back down you’re almost positive you’d run into the same situation. It must take a guy who's kissed a lot of girls to know you’d like music or that it would help you. Or maybe Steve just really knows you that well. 

“Does every girl you date get this special Steve Harrington experience?” The joke is normal banter between you two and the room starts to feel better than it did before. Less serious, more lighthearted in nature, completely needed at this moment. 

“Only the ones with really good music taste and a nice comfortable bed.” He states factually as if he's actually done this with any other girl besides you. So really this is the special Steve Harrington experience.

Once the record was all set and your mood had shifted he sat down next to you again. Leaning into your space slowly as if to give you time to pull away just in case it got too real and you wanted to back out. But instead a smile spread across your lips, a physical reaction to your brain exploding that this was really happening.

"There she is." He murmurs, returning the smile. "You look less terrified."

"I wasn't terrified to begin with." You state, a complete lie that Steve can see right through. 

"Course you weren't."

For a moment neither of you moved, simply soaking up the realness of the moment. Sounds of Abbey Road drift softly through your room, filling the silence neither of you seemed brave enough to break. 

"You still sure?" He asked, quieter this time.

You nodded.

His hand came up almost absentmindedly, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before letting his fingertips linger for the briefest second against your cheek. Feeling the softness of your skin to remind him just how real this was. 

Then he closed the distance.

Lips brushing yours in a kiss so soft it was almost cautious, lingering just long enough for you to realize this wasn't anything like you'd imagined. There were no fireworks or butterflies the movies always speak of, only the warmth and the familiar comfort that had always come with Steve. It felt easy, like something you've done so many times before it just came naturally. Like the two of you had somehow already known how to fit together.

When he pulls away, he stays close enough for your noses to nearly brush, an amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "See? Not so scary afterall." 

You shake your head in response as your smile from earlier comes back. Unabashedly happy from how well it went and how much you want it to happen again. The only time you've smiled today was when you were with Steve. It all felt very serendipitous but at the same time meant to be. As if you were supposed to go on a bad date and call him up, and he was supposed to ask to kiss you, without each thing happening the kiss may not have happened. 

And Steve isn't much different from you. If you were any other girl he’s been on a date with he would've continued the kiss, going in deeply and with intention. Letting instinct take over without a second thought. But you're not any other girl and he certainly doesn't want to speed things up with you. Instead taking his time feeling everything as deeply as he can. 

You speak up after a beat of silence.

“No, not scary at all.” The way you say it sounds soft and relaxed, a small thing Steve easily picked up on. Hitting closer to the heart than it should’ve– how one kiss from him got you like this. 

Almost on que the A side of the record ends, letting the silence fill the room. 

“Well, uh, it’s getting late so I should get going.” He gives a thumb behind him and then rubs his hands against his pants, like he's nervous or something.  

“Okay, thank you for all of this. Coming over and then helping me out.” You’re coming off so shy right now and the urge to stay with you becomes stronger. 

“Of course, anytime.” 

His words sound like he’s about to leave but his body is still planted on your bed. Sweaty palms still on his deliciously tight jeans, a strong smile that won't falter for the rest of the night, and his heart beating fast in his chest.

“Maybe, I mean if you want to I dunno, we could do it again. For more practice or whatever.” With each word you start to pick at your nail more but your want for it to happen again is much stronger than your nerves. 

“Yeah? We could do that. Maybe we can practice a goodbye kiss. Those are pretty important.” 

“That's true people do it all the time, so I should know how.” A nod follows your words, one you aren't even aware you’re doing. 

Steve starts by getting a little closer to you, leaning in to try and start it out. And this time you feel a little more comfortable pushing for it. Knowing he wants it just like you do, and there's no fear to stop you. Which is why you lean in with him, somewhat getting into the flow he was talking about earlier. 

His hand reaches for your chin, getting purchase on you so he can make the final move. This time the kiss is different. It’s not a fake kiss or one you’re just gonna push under the rug.

It's deliberate. More certain.

His lips find yours with ease, letting himself linger this time instead of pulling away. The hesitation that tangled itself between the two of you before is gone, leaving behind something softer. Fitting together a little better than you had moments ago. You don't spend the entire kiss wondering if you're doing something wrong. Instead, you simply let yourself be there with him.

Your shoulders gradually relax, and before you know it you're leaning just a little closer, smiling against his lips when his thumb brushes gently over your cheek. The nerves are still there, fluttering somewhere beneath your ribs, but they're no longer getting in the way.

“For that being your first goodbye kiss it was pretty good.” 

That gets him a small punch to the arm, with a smile and scrunched nose to give away just how much you don't mean it. “Guess that just means I need more practice.”

“Very true. Maybe we could try more on a practice first date?” In his head it didn't come out as a question but the nerves mixed into his words. 

“Wait really?” 

The shock is written all over your face. Surprised that he’s so forward even though he wasn't that forward. At least not in the classic Harrington way he’s known to be. Despite all the affection he’s shown you tonight there's still a small voice in the back of your head saying this isn't real, that he’s truly just being a good friend. A wall your brain built up in the few hours you two have been together to not let yourself get hurt. 

But you never have to worry about that with Steve. He’s never hurt you and he never would. 

“Really. I mean if you’d want to, of course.” 

honestly shocked smut won by such a long shot 😦 like what happened to the art of overthinking something or trying your hardest to make things better ? having a fight and experiencing the satisfaction of it ending smoothly ?!? it might just be you and me anon <3 but i dooo understand those who want other things 🤗

maybe gator x religious reader get caught

caught

wc: 5.0k

summary: You and Gator just can't keep your hands to yourselves! Or three times you almost get caught and the one time you do...

cw: mentions of makeup, female anatomy, she/her pronouns, fem!r, cockwarming, blowjobs, semi-public sex, p in v, religious! r, getting caught, fingering f! receiving, gator being a boob guy (canon to me), unprotected sex, lmk if i missed anything

a/n: i apologize for how late this is i have been soooo busy! but now it's summer so expect more fics :) hopefully.. thank you for your request! <3

The first time you two almost get caught is early on a Sunday morning.

Despite the day starting out normal and slow, with you at your vanity putting makeup on while Gator hogs the bathroom gelling his hair back. Of course in the breaks of his routine his grabby hands are all over you. Walking towards the closet to change comes with a pause to turn your head towards him for a kiss, his warm hand half on your neck half on your jaw giving him full control. Not that he needs it, you’d do whatever he wants with ease anyway. 

Then it goes to brushing your teeth together, the free hand that's not holding the toothbrush wraps around your torso. Bringing you even closer to him, the gesture is sweet– pure in your eyes– so you lean into it. To Gator it’s a sign that you’re in the same needy boat he’s in. Has to be touching up on you in one way or another whether that's a hand in your back pocket, gripping onto your ass or simply holding your small hand in his large one. And in these jeans you have on it’s hard not to do the first one. 

But that's what your mornings have become and if you’re being honest no part of you is complaining. It’s nice to be needed so much, to know your presence is comforting enough for someone else. Even though Gator wouldn't describe it necessarily as comforting it’s definitely a nice word! 

Except when his touches continue even in the car ride to church you start to think about it a little differently. In your home, your safe space you share with Gator, it’s easy to be in that lovey dovey mood. Especially in the morning when he isn't grumpy or upset at the world just yet, a version of himself he saves only for you to see. So when his hand is high on your thigh and his truck is sending every vibration of the bumpy road to the spot between your legs it starts becoming a different story. 

You think Gator can see it too. Starting with the fact he can read you like the back of his hand or maybe that your thighs are clenched together and his hand squeezing your tightened thigh gives him a good sense of what you're feeling. And if he hadn't basically spent all morning feeling you up maybe this wouldn't have happened but it was all part of his sick plan. 

So that’s why when a little over an hour at church passes, the speaker has stepped off the stage, you and Gator leave early. Silently sneaking out so no one could notice or go out looking for you. There's about 20 more minutes till people would start heading out, standing around in the parking lot getting their last conversations in. Which means you two are on the clock. 

Although your boyfriend somewhat kept his hands to himself while being in public, his touches had a long lasting effect on you. Long enough that once you two got in the back of his truck you were pulling his belt off in record time. With Gator sitting on the seat and you on your knees in front of him it was a sight he wishes he could take a photo of. The sight of your desperate pleas and the needy look in your eyes. But unfortunately you don't have time for all that, not that you’d even let him take a picture of you doing something so awfully sinful. Leaving church of all places to do this, while still in the public parking lot. It really can’t get any worse.

Taking off his belt and pulling his jeans and boxers off doesn't take long at all, in fact you think you’ll make it outta here with time to spare. Gator is already hard, a bright pink tip leaking a pearly white substance that makes you practically have heart eyes. Between your kitten licks and soft praises like ‘so pretty Gates’ and ‘needed this’ you put your hands to work. Rubbing him up and down, seeing how his hips work with your hand, craving anything more than what you’re giving him. 

And he tells you that too. 

“Stop w’the teasin’. Know you want it just as bad mama, c'mon, put those pretty lips to use huh? Don't want us gettin caught.” 

The compliment plus the reminder of being in public slides right through your ears to your pussy. Making you do just as he asks because he’s right, you don't have time to be playing around with him, especially if you both need it just as bad. Starting with the tip, making your way down to the base while his whines flow above you. What your mouth can't cover your hands work overtime with. Bobbing with ferocity and precision, trying to get him there before anyone comes out. 

His hand cups the back of your neck before grabbing onto your hair. Pulling at it and pushing you down to go with the speed he wants while getting moans out of you. The vibration feels like heaven on his cock, and you can tell by the way he lets out a moan. 

“Such a bad girl, leavin’ church early to suck some cock like a needly lil thang huh? Imagine what they’d say if they walked out and saw ya like this. All teary eyed and touchin’ yourself with your mouth on me.” His words only spur you on. Making you suck harder, bob faster, touch yourself with more force.

 “Nuh uh, hands up. Good girls don't touch themselves.”

His reminders of what you’re doing to him make you feel the guilt even worse. There's a big part of him that likes that you have that guilt. Proves that although you’re loyal to God you’re more loyal to Gator. That nothing will come before him and what he wants, even if that's getting a blowjob by his girl in the church parking lot at 11am. 

When he opens his eyes back up to see your hands pressed together he thinks he might just cum right there and then. Due to the lack of help from your hands you take him even deeper, trying your best not to gag at his dick going down your throat while praying. What you’re thinking about Gator couldn't care less, what your mouth is doing to him is all that his brain can focus a thought on, and now what your hands are doing. 

“That’s it, fuck doll ya feel so fuckin’ good. Prayin’ we don’t get caught huh? Just the best mouth I swear.” 

Between the heat of your mouth, how easily he’s sliding in and out of it from the amount of spit you've shared with him, and the suction he is close. And if he bothered to look at the small electric clock on the screen up front he’d see that people could start walking out any minute now. Those who aren't waiting around to chit chat could easily see what you two are up to. 

That thought plus your pretty pink soft lips wrapped around him gets him there. A heavy hand keeps your mouth on him, taking his cum whether you wanted to or not, you’re stuck there. Only then do you finally let your praying position go, gripping on his thighs trying to remain stable from his force on you. Shutting your eyes tightly as you try to take every drop he’s letting out while he rides you out slowly. Now sensitive and feeling everything in a new heightened way. 

When you lift your head, whipping your mouth with the back of your hand, only then do you see a group of people coming out of the church. Busy talking to each other sure but at the same time looking around the lot, looking for their car or just for other people around. Gator gets himself situated while you swiftly make your way back up to the passenger seat, trying to come off as if you were never in the back to begin with. 

On the ride home Gator is on a high and you try talking yourself off a ledge of what you just did. 

The second time you two almost got caught was a little less quick. Not so much stressed for time as you were trying your very best to stay still. 

With Gator sitting on a white plastic chair, a calloused hand on the small of your back, and you standing next to him it was a nice time. Roy and Karen had invited you to a brunch with the family, a nice gesture that you didn't really have an option of passing on. 

Gator had been in a mood the whole day. Annoyed he had to be here in the heat watching them play family. Something he never got as a kid, his dad never bothering to try. You tried to pick up on his slack, offering bright smiles and helping Karen in the kitchen. Basically playing family with them to let Gator off the hook for not joining along. 

Right now Roy is using the grill to make food while Karen plays with the kids, helping them blow bubbles with the new toys they got. You and Gator stay off to the side, somewhat out of the way of eyesight. Staying near the table that has silverware laid out with glasses of champagne. Neither of you messed with any of it, Gator got himself a beer so even he didn't need to bother with it.

“C’mere mama. Sit down.” He gestures, patting his lap. 

The way he says it sounds like he’s not asking but the way he’s looking at you is soft and sweet. Like he’s letting you know his bad mood isn't towards you. Following his words is easy, there won't be a day you wouldn't want to have a cuddle session with your boyfriend. 

Except with just a few small circles of your hips to get comfortable you can feel something underneath your thighs. 

“Gates.” Unlike him your tone is sweet despite trying to come off stern. 

And as a result of it he bites your ear lobe. Not taking your warning seriously in any way shape or form. Instead grabbing a hold of your hips to push you down further onto him. He doesn't even bother trying to hide the groan that comes out of him while his head falls to your shoulder. Hands gripping your hips so tightly you’re sure it’ll leave tiny bruises. All because of his own actions. 

“Keep movin’ doll.” 

“Gator! We are with your family.” His head is still in the crook of your shoulder and neck, biting you slightly to try and stop a moan from coming out past his lips. 

“They ain’t even watchin. Plus y’know what this dress does t’me.” He says, pressing small kisses along your neck. 

Your dress is quite long and has a layer of fabric underneath giving it some form of fluff, not exactly sticking to your skin. Between his words, kisses, and hands still stuck to your hips it’s hard to say no to him. Giving one last look to your surroundings, making sure his family isn't anywhere near you. In this moment you’re grateful for the big plot of land, the fence going far out. 

Once you feel you’re in the clear you pull your dress out from under you. No longer completely sitting on it but instead letting it flutter around you. Basically giving Gator access to everything under the flowy fabric, allowing it to be completely hidden. 

In your own ears you can hear him unzip his pants, pulling his underwear down a bit which in turn makes you shuffle around him, giving his boner another bold stroke of movement. Trying your best to stay quiet while he pushes your panties to the side, sliding two fingers between your folds, getting covered in all your juices. 

“Fuck sake doll, this soaked for me and ya just sat down.” 

He’s not even trying to be quiet and it’s getting to you already. Letting his head fall back with closed eyes while he bites his lip. “Get it over with Gator.” You say through clenched teeth. 

“Whacha sayin’ baby? Y’don’t want this big cock fillin’ your tight lil pussy up?” He muffles into your shoulder as he slides two fingers into you. “Cause she’s tellin’ me a bit of a different story. Squeezin’ me so tight, might not even fully fit in ‘er.” 

Now your hands are gripping his thighs just as tight as he was your hips. He’s speeding up his pace which is making it increasingly harder to remain quiet, or still for that matter. It’s also hard not to rut your hips towards his fingers, trying to chase the feeling he’s so close to giving you. 

“More Gates, please, need more.” Your voice is all whiny, no longer caring about the people around you but how good his fingers feel. 

“Say it.” 

You have to move your hand to clamp over your mouth, not trusting you won't let a moan out. Still mumbling through it. “What? Say what?” 

“You want this cock. That ya want me to give it t’ya.” 

He pulls your hand from your mouth, putting it behind your back as his hand works even faster, fingers in a ‘come here’ motion while his thumb rubs the most delicious circles on your clit. You’re close and he can tell, making it a really bad time to be taking away your hand. 

“Need y’cock Gator, wanna feel you make me full so bad.” 

“Atta girl, you’re so good. Gonna give ya just what ya want, okay?” 

His words mean more than just what you’re asking for. His speed gets faster on your clit making your legs shake and your hand clap back over your mouth. Hunching over a little from how hard the organism hit you. From the outside perspective it might just look like you’re a little too hot, overheating from the warm sun beating down on you. Which the heat certainly isn't helping but the feeling is much more extreme. 

Before you even have a second to come down Gator takes himself out of his pants, pulling you off his lap a little to get the angle just right before sliding right into you. Your juices and cum make it easy for him to fully fit himself within you. Groaning each time your pussy flutters around him, getting used to the length as it comes. 

Now you're biting on your lip and have your hands covering your face. Because now not only do you not trust your mouth but you don't trust your expression. Like how your eyes could roll to the back of your head at how good his dick feels or your face turning red. That one maybe could be blamed on the sun but unfortunately you doubt it. 

“Jesus fuck, you’re so warm an’tight. Don't even think I could pull out even if I wanted, grip is too good doll.” 

“Language Gator.” It’s funny honestly. He could talk all day about how good your pussy feels but the second he says the lord's name in vain you are quick to lecture him. You’re lucky you feel too good or he’s give you a quick rebuttal about how he doesn't give a fuck. 

You two are able to catch your breath for a second before you hear Roy’s voice. “Meat’s done, give it a minute to cool and we can eat.” He doesn't look at anyone while he says it, more so just speaking out loud to everyone. 

“We should get up?” You turn your face to him to catch his reaction but he just shakes his head. Letting it fall back on the comfortable spot of your shoulder. 

“Just gonna stand around waitin’, better to stay right here.” The way his voice sounds as he says it makes your pussy squeeze him even tighter. It’s gravelly like he’s spent himself, so caught up in what you two are doing and how it feels. 

You are about to agree with him until Karen starts making her way towards you two “Hey, can I get your help in the kitchen?” 

She’s asking you of course, Gator would never help her in the kitchen– his daddy would call him out for it just as quick as it takes for him to get in there. 

“Of course. Just gimme a second? The sun’s got me feeling a little dizzy.” You smile at her, trying your best to look normal. 

“Kay, just meet me in there when you can.” She sends you back a smile, a little more tight lipped than yours but goes inside before you could ask about it. But she's not the one with her man's dick in her so what does she have to smile about? 

“Dizzy from the sun huh?” Gator teases behind you. 

“Shut up. You’re lucky she didn't think anything different.” 

The two of you keep your lips shut as you pull yourself off of him. The emptiness hits you immediately, already missing the feeling of him inside you. His hand quickly sets your underwear back in place but it’s practically soaked through. Still the cool sensation gives you something else to feel besides the emptiness. That and what you just did, how much you’ll have to pray tonight about it. Maybe make something for the Tillmans as an apology they’ll never hear for the things they’ll never know about. 

The third time happens when you least expect it. 

Again on a Sunday morning right when you wake up, about to get up to get ready for church. Your brain is still in that foggy spot between sleep and alertness. But feeling Gator behind you, morning wood poking you from behind and his kisses over your neck and shoulder feels like you’re still in a dream. 

Maybe that’s why you allowed it. Thinking that you had the time to mess around in the first place and not being fully there. Mind stuck on how good he feels on you to think logistically or about your plans for this morning. 

That's how you and Gator became busy in bed. His body is hovering over yours, hand tangled with your own as he pounds into you. The whole room echoes the sounds of his skin hitting your own, sinking in and out of you at a relentless speed. Along with the moans that come out past your lips, unapologetically loud since you're in your own home. 

Nails scratching down his back with reverent, so stuck in your own bliss to even think if it hurts him. Thankfully it just makes him fuck you harder. Putting your leg over his shoulder to get an even deeper angle. Your hand clings to your cross necklace, holding onto any faith like with every thrust you feel yourself slipping. 

Because how could this feel so good yet not be allowed? Something that is the most human thing, the best way to express your love to the person you're going to marry. You’re not one to question the way things are done. The bible is set in stone for a reason, but there is a part of you that wonders if someone had what you and Gator have then maybe things would be different. 

Because you’re on a different planet right now. With your handsome boyfriend giving his all to you, messy hair and big puppy dog eyes you wouldn't want to be anywhere else. He’s giving you everything you could ask for, and if you ask he’d tell you he feels the same. In fact he’s incredibly close. 

With your sweet noises, clammy hand having purchase over the gold cross around your neck, and this pussy that has a vice grip on him how could he not be? Your boobs are moving with every pounce and it has him in a hypnotic state. Cant help but using his hand that's not holding him up to squeeze one, even leaning down to suck on it. Rolling your nipple between his teeth as you moan under him. It’s loud and obnoxious as if you can't hold it in. 

“Just brain dead on this dick huh? Lettin’ me ruin you with no complaints.” 

His words do a lot for you, mutters of how good you feel flow through the room. You on the other hand can't get a word out if you wanted. He’s not lying, you’re ruined, completely and utterly by him. You wouldn't let a single other person on this planet do what he’s doing to you. Sex before marriage or speaking the straight up nasty things he does. For anyone else it would completely ick you out, but with Gator it turns you on even more. 

Which is why you cum quickly. His cock hitting your g-spot with ease, hands knowing every pleasure pulse point on your body, and lips on yours mixing tongue and teeth. All of it’s messy and chaotic but complete heaven. You groan into his mouth and let half shaped moons stamp his biceps. Clawing at him for the life shattering organism he’s giving you. 

Gator’s even able to come right after you. Using your heightened senses to his advantage, the pain of your nails in his skin pushing him over the edge. It’s all a lot for the both of you. Gasping for air like the other person stole it, white knuckling the sheets for any sense of grounding, and that cross in your hand being put to work. 

Now you’re completely limp under him, voice somewhat gone, legs feeling similar to jello, collarbones shining with sweat, and lips a darker shade of pink from all the kissing– that and biting your lip from how good it felt. Your bed head looks a little better than Gators, you didn't have his hands grasping for life on your hair. Having showered last night it was your favourite version of him. Soft fluffy stands poking out in every way, gold highlights shining back at you from the sun that’s been up far longer than you two have. 

And despite his words and roughness from not even five minutes ago he’s already back to being gentle with you. Slowly sliding out of you, knowing you’re sensitive, using his shirt that was besides the bed to clean you up to the best of his abilities. 

That is until there’s a knock on the door. Loud and constant like it might not stop till the door is open. Although you aren't sure of who it is, Gator already knows. Hearing that knock many times throughout his life of living on the farm. He’s quick to put his pants back on and answer it, already tired of the annoying sound of a man trying to act tough. Soon enough you hear Roy's voice come through the house, clear and strong like he owns it. 

“Y’think it’s funny to just fuck ‘round and miss church?” 

“Wasn’t fuckin’ doin’ anything. M’girls sick.” He lies. After a lifetime of being taught how to lie Gators good at it, almost too good that he’s able to fool his dad in this moment. 

“What’s wrong w’her?” He might be a good liar but Roy raised him to do it, meaning he can't just blatantly go trusting his own son. 

“Got the flu or somethin’. All sweaty, can barely walk, throats hurtin’ so voice is gone.” Gator shrugs.

It’s actually impressive how he’s holding himself together right now. Because he’s not lying about that, you are all of those things. Is it the flu? No but the symptoms remain true. If it were anyone else he’d gloat, exaggerate it, but he really doesnt need his dad knowing that you lost track of time from getting fucked that you missed church. Or that you two are having sex at all. Needs to remain your little secret. 

“Mhm, well no need to come over this week then. Don’t need you getting that shit ‘round us, and fuckin’ everything up.” 

“I ain’t even sick.” It’s too easy to fight back with him. Maybe that’s Gators biggest issue but still he feels this intense need to always stick up for himself, not that his dad will believe what he says. 

When Gator hears the shower turn on his head turns like a dog hearing a toy squeak. As if you were saying hurry up and end this conversation and join me, which he wanted to probably more than you did. However it gives Roy a nice view of the side of his back. Bright red scratches run along his spine, majority on his shoulder blades. Skin becoming puffy from the inflammation and trauma to the area. Even though it barely hurt, only a little stung when it happened, he totally forgot that he was completely marked up. 

But when you do get caught it feels as humiliating and life ending as you think. You truly didn’t plan on fucking Gator in the evidence room. 

What you were originally at the station for was to give Gator lunch since he got to the station earlier than normal so you weren't up in time to pack it for him. And because you had to go there you thought bringing some cookies would be helpful too. A little something so they don't pick on your boyfriend for having his girlfriend bring him lunch. They were all officers afterall, full of men who thought the law did not apply to them.

So what was a kind and pure gesture somehow turned Gator on. 

The way you take such good care of him and others managed to do something to him. Starting with a small makeout session in the break room where you feel him up because he’s extremely sexy in his uniform. The tight black shirt showing off his muscles in the best way, pants showing his bulge front and center that he barely smooths over like he’s teasing himself. 

From the break room to his hand in yours leading you to the evidence room, what was some kisses became much more. Like pressing you against the evidence boxes, neatly sorted in rows that you really should not be around at all actually. Probably a crime in itself for you to be back here but let’s call it a perk of being the son of the sheriff. 

Bringing your dress up just to your waist, alert and aware of where he is even with the lust clouding his thoughts. Anyone could come in and see so to pull it down in seconds is necessary yet at the same time it’s killing him because your tits are his favorite. But he gets over it when he takes off your panties, getting right to it since he is on the clock after all. 

“No, no Gates. Need those back. Oh my–” You say it as he puts them in his back pocket. Definitely not willing to give them back to you so easily. 

The act turns you on even more. Just thinking of him using them later on shift, jacking off in the bathroom has you moaning, making Gator slap his hand over your mouth. One hand doing wonders to your pussy while the other silences your noises. Another loss for him but just like you he’s thriving in this situation. Knowing you two could get caught any moment making his dick throb in his cargos. 

Honestly you’re too loud to be doing this in public. His hand isn't doing great at muffling the noises and he is having a hard time not getting on his knees and devouring you entirely. Just a guy who's unable to do a quickie, always yearning for more of you. 

And before he fails to hold himself back the door swings open, illuminating the darker room you two are in. The tall full shelves help hide you enough for Gator to get off of you and to fix your dress but your slightly panting and his fingers are drenched. 

“Tillman, Roy needs you to go to a location.” He speaks out standing by the door, unsure where Gator is in the room.

“Alright.” Gator says, a little less loud since he knows he’s been found. 

But the officer doesn't move from the door. Too invested in the paper work in his hand, mind already in another place. Which then leads to you and Gator slipping past him. Your face bright red and feet not running as fast as you wish they would. He’s a little less ashamed than you, trying to also act normal like nothing happened. 

Then behind him he hears his co-worker speak up again. “Alright Tillman! Hey, you’re doing what we all wish we could.” He says giving Gator a small bump with his shoulder. 

And similarly to Roy the other day he isn't entirely sure what the officer is talking about. He looks around for you thinking maybe your dress was messed up or your hair was weird, something to show that his hands weren't kept to himself. 

That was until it hit him. 

His back pocket that held your underwear, slightly hanging out from how quickly he put it in. In a rush and thinking he’d have just a little more time and a few more brain cells to remember it before leaving the room. Yet he didn't, and he’d bet all his money that by the end of the day every cop in this station will know about it. 

bad day

wc: 2.5k

summary: Gators bad day comes home with him, but what happens when he lets it out on you?

cw: mean!gator, hurt/comfort, happy ending, fighting, silent treatment, crying, mention of long nails, soft!gator at the end, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: thank you so much for the request!! i know it's a little similar from a recent fic i posted but i didn't wanna leave you hanging and wait for time to pass to put it out! religious!r x gator out next!! enjoy<333

You could tell by Gators texts he sent to you earlier that today's been a bad one for him. 

Apparently his dad humiliated him in front of the whole squad, calling him names and pushing him around. Which then became fair game for the rest of the guys to treat him like shit even ‘pretending’ to spill his burning coffee on his leg when he got away from his old mans torture. 

Once he was finally sent out for a call, some small job that normally he’d fight to ditch but with how the day was playing out he took it with a sigh. Turns out pulling over a guy who's practically blacked out drunk could lead to getting a punch in the face. Nice and heavy, full fist ready for Gator. To then go back to the station to get ridiculed even more, a punching bag physically and metaphorically. 

Safe to say Gator wishes today never happened. Wish that he could fight back, lay his hands on anyone near him. Gain back some type of control that was stripped away piece by piece throughout the long day. Anything would make him feel better than he did right now.

Which is where you are left now. Waiting patiently for your boyfriend to get home with his favorite meal in the oven. The second he said his day was bad you got started on it, knowing it wouldn't cure him but hopefully help. That’s kinda what you've learned within these past few months of dating Gator, you couldn't fix him completely despite your tried efforts, it was just helping him in whatever way he’d accept. 

The front door opened and closed loudly, letting you know his mood hadn't smoothed out any. Heavy footsteps made their way towards you as you tried to offer with the softest smile you could.

“Hey baby, i’m making dinner it’s got about 4 more minutes till it’s done-” 

“Jesus alright.” He mutters with a finger to his lips in a ‘shh’ pose. A small way to tell you to shut up. 

His focus is closed on the fridge that holds what he’s been thinking about all day, a cold beer. The start to forgetting this day happened and helping his mood change. But once he closed it his vision suddenly opened up. Taking in the kitchen, what you’re doing, and how messy it looks. 

“What’ve ya been doing all day, sittin’ around? Place looks like a fuckin pig sty. I tell you I have a bad day and you don't even bother tryin’ to help?” 

“What? No– no it’s just messy because I made you your favorite and I..” Your words somehow get lost in your own throat. A small ‘doing the dishes’ on the tip of your tongue. Because if his eyes were working at all he’d see you with the cleaning gloves, latex wrapping around each finger ready to wash dirty plates and silverware. 

“Man, you really are useless huh?” A scoff leaves his lips as he shakes his head. Like he can't believe what he’s witnessing. 

Really you feel the exact same. Because what about what he’s seeing makes you look useless? The dishes in the sink from you cooking for him or the dish soap in your hand getting ready to clean them, maybe it’s the food that was already in the oven– not held to the last minute. 

There were no words good enough in that moment to say back. A screaming match wouldn't help, trying to gently parent him certainly wouldn't help, all you can do is remain silent. Go back to the task at hand, try and pretend his eyes on you aren't the worst feeling ever. Act like he’s not even there. Regardless of his rude words that are still replaying in your head or ripping at your heart. 

The loud alarm that goes off to tell you dinner is ready is what snaps you out of your dissociative state. Bringing you back down to a place you wish you could run away from. Gators bad day now finding it’s way to spread to you, getting all over your home like some bacteria. 

You let him eat the food alone at the dining table. Finishing cleaning up the kitchen he threw a fit over before he has another. He doesn't object to it, eating in silence. When he finishes he brings the plate to you, gently sliding it into the sink as you keep your eyes on what you're washing. Knowing if you let yourself look up at him he’ll see the tears flooding your eyes, threatening to slide down your cheek.  

“Was real good doll.” He says off hand as he grabs another beer closing the fridge door softer than the front door. 

It was only once he left the kitchen that you let yourself break down. Slight sobs leaving your mouth as your hand rests on your chest, feeling your lungs breathe air in and out. You decide to leave his dish unwashed, a small grudge you can hold to feel like you could get back at him in some way. Then it’s your chance to eat, taking small bites as your lashes wetten from the thick tears. 

You can hear Gator snap the beer open and turn on the tv. Watching some sport you can't really make out. He turns it up almost like he knows what he’s doing. Drowning out your small plea to see he’s hurt you. The act only stirs you on more, leaving your plate there on the table before rushing to your shared room. 

Except you don't shut the door like he does, you don't let him know you're crying, he has no clue about your now bad night. A small part of you wants to trash what's his in retaliation, make some stance to show him you can't be talked to like that. Although you know it wouldn't lead anywhere good, nor would it help. If anything you’d die of guilt only after cleaning everything up. 

That’s when you decided on the silent treatment. 

Completely shutting yourself off to him, not giving into his actions or words. Certainly not trying to force him how he’s in the wrong. All you can hope is he uses the distance and silence to think about what he’s done. Your crying hasn't been so extreme that your eyes are unable to go back to normal. Maybe your eyes are a little red and bloodshot but not swollen, nothing else showing that you just had a quick breakdown because your boyfriend yelled at you. 

Simply going out into the living room where he was sitting and sitting at the far end of the couch. Creating physical space between you two. You let yourself get comfy, grabbing a blanket to drape over you with a book you’re almost done with in your hand. It’s a normal thing for you to do, late night reading. 

Sitting this far from Gator however, is not normal. And you can see his head turn slightly as you stay in your spot. Not bothering to get up and move towards him for cuddles. Which now that he’s calmed down a bit he could really use. Your soothing voice in his ear telling him he’s much better than what they did to him or having your long nails scratch his head that's been trapped under a hat all day. Even better getting an ice pack for the growing bruise on his face. He’s unsure of how it looks but since you didn't have a freak out seeing him he’ll take a guess that it’s not ER worthy. 

The book you're reading is placed perfectly to where you can't see Gator's face and he can't see yours. It feels unfair to him that he is given this distance after the day he’s had. And after he updated you on everything, you should understand how he's feeling. That’s why he shyly grabs at your ankle, using his thumb to rub at your skin. A little something to say ‘hey im right here’, which you’re so painfully aware of. 

Typically you’d swoon for this type of touch from him. Any touch that isn't asked for or a return of your first touch is a win in your book. But staying strong with your plan is more important than his half ass olive branch he’s trying to give you. So you pull your feet under the blanket, tucking the fabric under your legs so he couldn't touch them if he wanted. 

“Come cuddle.” His tone shows he’s telling not asking but it comes out terribly soft. 

Maybe it’s him asking and doing things he doesn't regularly do or it could be his tone but for some reason it breaks you completely. Lip wobbling and tears sliding down your temples to your ears from the position your laying. 

Seeing his head try and poke up above your book to get a look at you has your eyes widened, knowing you've been caught. Which in turn makes you shove your wet face between the pages trying to hide. Between the sniffles you let out you can feel him scoot closer to you. 

“Wait, are you cryin’?” His hands hold you by your knees and even give them a squeeze when you don't respond right away. “Cmere, lemme get ya.” He says pulling at the security blanket you were using, trying to get you out of the self made trap. 

The words are so sweet and the way he needs to hold you is even sweeter, it’s why you break. Letting him remove the blanket from you, grabbing your hips to bring you closer to him. Within seconds your arms are wrapped around his neck, letting the tears land on his skin while your legs cross around his torso. Fully sitting on his lap attached like a koala. 

His large hand rubs your back as he lets you cry it out. Never once telling you to stop or to calm down, just waiting for you to catch your breath and loosen your tight grip on his shirt. Your face is burning hot in his neck which doesn't help anyone cause he runs hot. You must be made for him because anyone else would push him away, searching for air instead of going without. 

So despite your lack of calming down he still tries to go for it. 

“I know I was an asshole, angel. I should've never said any of that nasty stuff to ya, ya deserve much better. ‘M real sorry, if I could take it back I promise I would.” A beat of silence passes as he waits for you to say something but you don't so he continues. “Shoulda never taken it out on ya, just let my day take over which isnt.. It ain't healthy and I know it. Gonna be better for you, swear.” 

Gator can physically feel your wet skin unstick from his neck, salt bonding you to him from how long you stayed in that position. This was the first time he truly saw you face to face since he got home and man does he wish he could do this day again. Not to have a better day at work but to handle his feelings differently that doesn't end with him looking at your red and blotchy face. 

Your whole body is hiccuping, trying so hard to swallow the sobs that you end up breathing deeper and deeper– making it hard to take a full steady breath. His thumbs try to brush away any tears but they only fall faster at the gentle motion. 

“Breathe baby, in and out I wanna see it.” He whispers doing a small version of it himself, guiding you to start. 

The frown on his face almost makes you feel even, he looks so distraught and scared. Regardless of your body clinging to him it looks like he knows this isn't some easy fix, that by the end of this he can't just take you to bed and kiss you goodnight. Although you listen to his words and copy him, trying to get a handle on your breaths and fanning yourself to get cooler. Gator pulls your shirt off from your sweaty back and fans it letting air hit you. 

It takes a bit but you manage to get a hold of yourself. Cooling down and being able to get out a stable sentence. He’s still fanning you but pressing small kisses to your forehead after you take a good deep breath. Your hands scratched at your face, trying to get rid of any leftover tears coming out from his words. This time they were quieter, any energy long gone. 

“‘M really sorry baby.” You feel a kiss from your forehead to your cheek. “I’m so so sorry.” Pressing another kiss to your cheek before moving to your other cheek. 

“You were s-so mean.” Maybe not as stable as you thought but it actually hurts Gator even more so for now it’s okay. 

“I was awful, you're right doll. I shouldn’t have done any o’that. Need to be better for you. ‘M not just saying it to say it either. Mean it, okay?” 

“How do I know that you won't do that again?”  

“You can trust me, know it don’t seem like it but ya can. Gonna prove it to ya.”

All you can do is nod, letting him know you’re hearing him out. Watching him as he lets a sigh out, tension in his shoulders slightly releasing. Showing you that this was a lot for him just as it was for you. 

“I’m sorry you had such a bad day.” Your hands are back on his shoulders, but this time softly rubbing at his knotted muscles. 

“I’m sorry that I took it out on you.” His lips graze a part of your arm that's closest to his face, laying kisses.

Taking his apology to heart you move your hands from his shoulder to his jaw, giving him a kiss that he reciprocates with ease. Probably the first thing all night that's come naturally to him. But he doesn't take it any further, leaving it at a kiss that in itself means he’s sorry. 

“How bad does your face hurt?” You gesture to his bruises that are coming in. They’re more so under his eye spreading to his nose than anything. 

“Hurting like a bitch.” A smile comes out as he says it, relieved to be back to somewhat a normal conversation. 

“I’ll get meds if you wanna get ice?” 

“Smart girl.” He gives you another quick kiss before helping you lift your legs from his sides. One leg moving off the couch as your hands use him to stay stable, getting your other leg out. You can feel the fuzzy feeling of them falling asleep but the quick walk to the bathroom to get meds should wake them up. 

r u up?

wc: 4.1k

summary: What started as something casual with Gator grows into something more meaningful, especially when he shows up at your doorstep after a difficult day.

cw: hurt/comfort, mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, f!reader, mention of wearing makeup, slight smut, beginning of oral sex (m!reciving), fwb, happier ending, gator hating the mention of mental health issues, if i missed anything lmk :)

a/n: hihihi!! thank you for the request!! ugh ik I need to wrap him up and hold him.. i hope you enjoy <3 also if you have sent a request im getting to it trust!!! finals r kicking my ass but ill get them out as quickly as i can!!

You and Gator were strictly friends with benefits. 

Like when his dad got on him too bad and he needed something to take his anger out on he’d always know who he could call. Or if you had another failed date, some guy who on paper seemed deemable but by the end of it would bore you to death. The whole ride home all you'd think about is how you could've used the better of an hour and a half with Gator pleasing you in every way possible. 

Surprisingly those two feelings happen more often than not. Both of you need to use each other in different ways. While you take on his anger with bruises on your hips he replenishes the hope you have of men in total, reminding you that not all men are incapable of making a girl feel good. 

And in between all of that you and Gator remain friends. Two people who can text if they are bored or can stop to say hi if you bump into each other at the bar, you out with your friends while he just got there after finishing a hard shift. 

Yeah it may end with you two in the same bed but those who don't go home with you wouldn't know anything besides the fact that you two can stand each other. That you’d actually breathe in Tillman's direction and he’d give you a smirk instead of a growl. 

In fact when people see it they typically try to warn you. Telling you that Gator is nothing but trouble just like his daddy. Maybe it's masochistic that your cheeks burn when you hear it. Like a challenge you have to face head on. As if the ‘do not date’ line is tempting you to cross it. Even though it's thick and bright red and could burn you if you get too close. 

Because they don't know the Gator you see when the lights are off and the moonlight is the only thing illuminating the room. After everything is said and done his strong demeanor is stripped down from a long day, it’s just you and him in a bed that could take him away if he wasn't so stubborn about hearing what you have to say. 

Still coming down from your high, of Gator giving you all he's got, and mind racing. Between talking about your day and somehow getting to a point that's more than just small talk but only things someone would say when it’s so dark you couldn't see the person next to you. That's when Gator opens up. 

Sometimes it’s about his dad or how awful his day was dealing with criminals. Other days it was how much he needed you that night. Not just for sex but to have a connection with someone on a different level than he would with some girl at the bar. Someone he can trust and rely on each and every time. 

Those nights you felt that strong red line crumble. Because how could you not when comforting him comes to you like second nature, like it was your main puropse– what you were brought onto the earth to do. 

But then morning comes and he’s gone. You’ll have a message from him saying something like ‘had work, see ya later.’ like what you two did wasn’t some break in your relationship. It’s enough to make you feel crazy sometimes, like you're in deeper than he is– even though you try and convince yourself you’re not even in that deep. 

And as the week repeats itself and the two of you find yourselves back at the bar and notice the girl who's pawing at him, trying to keep his attention. You’ll act like you don't care or didn't even see it in the first place. An act you’ve perfected, maybe the only thing that shakes Gator into thinking he doesn't have you tied as tight to him as he thinks he does. The main reason to how you live staying behind that ‘do not date’ line and don't risk getting burnt. 

This week was even starting out like every other week. You doing your own thing and Gator doing whatever his daddy forces him to do. Every few hours you’ll get a response from him to a previous message but nothing close to a back and forth continuing conversation. You’ve learned to live with it, deciding it’s a good barrier to have. 

But weirdly today was different. Gator was basically silent, no texts here and there throughout his busy day. The only thing you got earlier was a thumbs up to you saying you had a dream about him. It was strange but not impossible, certainly not something some fuck buddy needs to worry about, and yet you do. 

The rest of your day is spent glued to your phone. Ears perking up at every buzz for your shoulders to fall when you don't see his name pop up. This is the actions of some girl who is yearning for a guy's attention, honestly making you no different than the girl at the bar. Except you let yourself feel it because you know Gator. You know him like the back of your hand and this isn't normal for him. 

Double texting after hours have passed is too much, asking him if he’s okay is way too much, and anything that's not those two options seems too daunting. So you let nighttime come. Watch as the sun goes down and the moon comes up, because if you could count on a specific time Gator was gonna text you it’s at night. When his day is over and he needs you to make it better. 

Around 12:50am you can hear your phone vibrate against the wood of your side table. You’re half way asleep, tucked in under the covers but still waiting for your brain to fully shut off. It’s embarrassing how quick you are to turn to the device. Grabbing it like it would burn into a crisp if you were even a second late. 

Like clock work it’s Gator sending a ‘R u up?’ text. 

Most of the time this is how it normally goes. One of you will text late at night the simple words that all mean the same thing. Except it would be after multiple conversations you've had throughout the day. This message is basically the only knowledge you have of him being up. 

Barely a minute passes before you are able to get out of your mind and respond back a simple ‘yes’ to him. He reads it immediately but doesn't say anything back. Which leaves you stuck in your thoughts for a second time. 5 minutes pass and you begin to think he didn't mean anything of it, too worked up in whatever he was dealing with today to actually go through with your ritual. 

Because what you weren't was his girlfriend. Girlfriends check on their boyfriends, like calling them despite the lack of texts back, or even going to his house to see if he’s okay. Those are the things people in real healthy relationships do. But that's not you and Gator. 

You two haven't even put a label on what you’re doing now. Which if you took a moment to think about it was for a reason. Because it wasn't so black and white with you two, it was more than that but still somehow not enough. A push and pull that was entirely too addicting yet not stable enough to cement it to anything. 

Now begins the whole cycle of you trying to forget about Gators weird behavior and get sleep. The second time should be easier but it's only more frustrating. Like the added information of his stupid bland text is enough to make you start at square one to what his day was like to ignore you. 

That was until you heard a loud knock. So loud it could knock you out of your sleep if you did happen to somehow get shut eye. 

Between trying to sleep and being in the dark for the past hour turning on your hallway light to see where you were going had you scrunching up like some cat. Hissing at the brightness that makes you squeeze your eyes shut, too bright and too late to be dealing with any of this. 

Still you open the door all the same, seeing Gator with his hands on his hips like he was trying his very best to not pace around but stapling himself on your porch. 

“Were you sleepin’?” He asks. 

“Mmm no, just laying down.” But your hair is already a mess from all the moving around you did trying to find a comfortable position to suppress your thoughts; and your one squinted eye still not fully adjusted to the bright white porch light that's got a moth fluttering around it doesn't help.  

“Can I come in?” One hand leaves his hip to lightly point inside. Eyebrows raised like he needs you to get on his level as soon as possible. 

You step back to open your door wide so he can step in which he does the second you move. Quick to take off his boots, not even bothering to undo the laces but force them off with a foot on his heel. 

“What’re you doing here?” You mumble, not catching up with his movements as swiftly as he’s pulling them. 

“Did ya not read m’text?” His thick brows are back in the knitted state, a small frown on his lips to pair with it. 

“Yeah but you didn't respond to me.” 

“I know I was busy drivin’ here.” 

The way he says it, like its common sense, is almost your last straw. After a long day of being ignored and unable to ask why here he shows up like you owe him. Like you should be able to read between the silence and know exactly what he needs. 

Before you could even get a word out to ask about it his lips are on yours. 

Which is absolutely crazy because theres actually nothing about you right now that says ‘lets fuck’. Not your lack of makeup, or your arms crossed against your chest because you're freezing, and certainly not the stressed out look on your face. And yet you can't help but melt into his touch. Warmth from his big hands splayed across your cheeks and soft lips kissing his chapped ones. 

You let him in for a few seconds before patting his chest gently. A small pause for some answers to your many many questions. When he pulls away he looks almost as confused as you did before he kissed you. 

“What?” 

“Are we not gonna talk first?” Your hands are resting on his chest, practically sucking up the heat that's radiating off of him. You try your best to have it come out soft and not accusatory, again, you know this man. 

“Whadda mean? We never talk first.” Which he’s right about. On the nights he does send texts you get ready for it and pounce on him the second he shows up. It’s always after everything is over that he enters his hazy state, tired and vulnerable– easier to open up. 

“You’ve ignored me all day, now you wanna just come here and act like nothing's happened?” 

“Yeah, I do. Thats what this whole fuckin’ thing is. Me just showin’ up and you knowing what's gonna happen.” His eyes never leave yours as he speaks, as if he's making sure you can see he's dead serious about what he’s saying. “Now we gon’ fuck or should I go an’ find someone else?” 

You should kick him out. Tell him to find someone who will deal with him the way you do. Or yell at him and let him know every twitch your eyes have made today simply because he’s all you could think about. 

Instead what you do is the opposite. 

Pulling him in by the belt loops of his pants and smashing his lips against yours. Not letting him get away since you know he would go to some other girl if you did happen to turn him away. She wouldn't be anywhere near as good as you and he wouldn't leave feeling satisfied emotionally the way he does with you but his dick would get wet, which according to him is what he’s here for. 

At first he walks you into the wall behind you. Kissing your lips, feeling up on you, which in turn makes you moan, letting his tongue slip to fight against yours. You and Gator have done this enough times it feels like it’s ingrained in your brain.

First just making out against the wall till you both need air and he pulls you towards your room. Getting there is full of teeth against teeth and his hands untying your pajama bottoms and your hands unbuckling his belt. Neither of which get done fully before you reach your bed. Leaving you two to take matters into your own hands and fully pull your pants off and watch him do the same. 

Now you’re on your bed, knees digging into the mattress with just your shirt and underwear on. Gator has the same but he pushes his underwear down just enough that his dick is out. He’s half hard and rubbing himself to try and get further. By now he should be fully hard, he’s got a beautiful girl in front of him waiting to suck him off– he should be hard. 

Which is why he lets out a frustrated groan when jerking himself off. So irritated that this hasn't gone smoothly he pushes himself towards you. A silent ask for you to help him out, your hands always do more good than his anyways. 

In your head you think this has just gone too fast, that maybe you should’ve talked first but Gator is like a fucking machine it’s the only thing he can do all day any day. So for him to not be able to get fully hard is another stressor. 

Your hands are like velvet when you touch him, a slower pace than he was going yet feeling just as good– because it’s you. Then your mouth slowly sucks on his tip. A beautiful rosey color you have down, so much so you can see it perfectly even in the dark of the night. 

And when that does nothing for him you pull out a second try. Giving kisses down his half soft length and playing with his balls. Even going to suck on one once you reach the base of him. His hands are so tightly gripped in your hair you have a bit of a hard time moving. If the lights were on he would be able to see that he’s holding onto you so tightly his knuckles are white. 

Even with all of this he’s still made no progress. You’re even exaggerating your sounds and actions which he can tell but he appreciates the sentiment all the same. It’s only when he pulls you off with a small ‘fuck, I cant- jus’ get off.’ that you can see him slowly break. Putting himself back in his boxers before sitting next to you on your bed. 

He’s quick to run his hands through his hair multiple times as if it’s overstimulating him before putting his elbows on his knees, slightly bent over breathing heavily. Knee closest to you bouncing up and down so fast your bed is making a small creaking noise. 

When you put a hand on his shoulder, hoping to calm him down it only makes things worse. He jumps up like he’s wired on something and paces back and forth. A hand pressed against his chest feeling his heart that's beating what feels like 300 beats per minute. Soon enough the pacing is making him dizzy and he feels like he can't breathe. The shallow breathing is scaring you just as much as it’s scaring him. Deciding to sit down he chooses the floor, back pressed against the mattress and bed post. He’s sweating like he ran even though he just walked back and forth for a few seconds. 

You slide off the edge of the bed to land on your feet right beside him, carefully lowering to sit criss cross. When he doesn't pull away you gently reach your hand out to grab his. Letting him make the next move if he wants you anywhere near him or not. His breathing is still staggered and uneven, still in the throes of whatever is plaguing him. 

“It’s okay, Gate. It’ll go away soon, you’re okay. Take a deep breath in for me, yeah?” You give him an exaggerated example of your own deep breath for him to copy which he surprisingly does. 

Eyes stuck on your face and the movements you make. Anything to distract his mind. Breathing in and out with you, as the grip of his hand in yours tightens. Like you’re gonna leave him any second even though this is your house. The action is enough to tell you that he’s not gonna push you away either. 

“Fuck, m’heart it’s like- it’s so fast.” He mutters out. Taking his hand that's intertwined with yours to your heart. As if your hand could be the thing to slow it down. 

“I know it’s scary but you’re doing great I promise. Panic attacks do this.” You nod, trying to be as helpful as possible with someone who is known to pull away. Like scaring away a critter that’s not used to humans. 

You start tapping against his chest, trying to make a pattern for his brain to focus on, trying to understand and focus on what you're doing instead of his brain. It seems like he’s at the end of it, breathing coming back to normal as he stops shaking. 

It’s easy to state when he recognizes that he’s calming down. “M’fine, alright? Just tired, s’all.” His mood changes so quickly, removing your hand from his, trying to get up. 

Except he’s not back to normal just yet and whatever just happened to him felt awful. As he tries to stand up the exhaustion hits him like a truck causing him to sit back on your bed. An even worse feeling for someone who yearns to run out of your house and forget this ever happened. 

And of course he’s denying what it was. In his mind panic attacks happen to those who can't control their feelings, those who aren't strong enough to control whatever it is stressing them out. That’s not him, he can handle whatever is thrown at him, doesn't need to be dealing with this ‘mental health’ bullshit. You either deal with it or let it consume you and that's some pussy shit. His old man would never be caught dead doing what he just did, letting some girl who responds to his 1am texts calm him down. 

You’re still on the floor but on your knees peering up at him, letting your chin rest on his knee. “You shouldn't be getting so stressed out that you get panic attacks, Gator.” One hand is resting on his thigh while the other searches for his hand that he reluctantly gives. 

"What'd I just say? It ain’t a fuckin’ panic attack.” His words are harsh but his hand remains attached to yours, letting you continue to lay on him. 

You're practically all over him and he’s still not complaining about it. Whether it’s because deep down he knows your words are true or because he does need you physically grounding him you don't know, could be both things mixing within him making him even more frustrated. 

“What happened today?” 

“Nothin’ new. My old man bein’ an asshole and then havin to deal with stupid people at the station.” Now he’s playing with the rings on your fingers that are on his thigh. Another physical thing to distract himself with. 

“Maybe you’re getting burnt out, or could it just be a bunch of little things that became too much?” Really you’re trying your best here, doing anything to get a grasp of what caused this to happen. 

“Listen, I don't need you diagnosing me with all this bullshit. Just had a bad day, have ‘em all the time.” A sigh comes out of him, tired of this conversation already. 

“M’not trying to do anything but help you. Wanna make sure this doesn't happen again y’know?” 

“Yeah I know, ain’t man enough to deal with a bad day. I get it.” He rolls his eyes, assuming the worst in your words– judgement after seeing what you saw. 

“No, hey, that’s not what I meant.” You breathe out quickly, needing to make him aware that he’s got you all wrong. “I know it doesn't feel good to go through what you just did, m’just saying if you get your feelings out now you may not have to go through it again. Does that make sense?” 

All he does is nod in response and it has you feeling like maybe he’s actually letting your words sit with him, absorbing them and what they could mean. It isn't until he grabs your hands to help lift you back up on your feet that you get a hint of what he’s doing. Once you're up, he goes in for a hug while still sitting on the edge of the bed. His head rests perfectly on your chest while his arms wrap around your frame. Following his movements feels habitual, something you don't think about as you do it. Letting your own arms fall around his neck, even raking your fingers through his hair. 

“Can I stay here tonight?” He mumbles into your shirt. 

He’s never stayed the night before. Typically leaving once you two are done, or even taking a small cat nap and leaving in the middle of the night. You never wake up to him in the morning, knowing to expect him to be gone. 

“Of course.” You say in the softest tone. Only imagining how tiring this day has been for him. Starting with his dad drama, then trying his best to push through work, only to break in front of you. 

The two of you stay where you are just being present, not needing to really say anything but instead resting in the gentleness that you surround him with. The kind words you whisper in his ear or the way your soft hands rub his neck, trying to release any tension this day has brought upon him. All of it helps but he’d never outwardly say it, at least not right now. He’s already shown more than he’s like to. 

But soon enough he lifts his head up, loses his koala grip on you and makes a gap. Separating you from him and taking off his shirt. You get the hint right away, understanding him without needing to hear it. Gator makes his way under the covers while you walk around to your side of the bed. It’s even easy to find each other all over again. Legs coming together while your head lays in the crook of his neck, lightly on his shoulder. His head falls against yours and you can feel the kiss he presses to your hairline. Completely tangled together, unable to pull away– not that either of you want to. 

When you wake up in the morning he’s still there. Basically in the same spot he was when he fell asleep except his bed head is 10x worse and his features are more relaxed. You’re not sure you've ever seen him look peaceful like this. Not worried about anything and unaware of the stress the world pushes onto him. It’s a look you wish you saw more often. 

And when he wakes up you don't force him to talk about last night. Instead letting him choose breakfast, cooking it while he picks a tv show to watch, eating it together while you explain the dream you had. All normal like a little showing of what his life could be like if he allowed it for himself. Quitting the tough act and stop pushing you away to feel what a safe place could be like. What loving you and being with you could do for him. 

wc: 2.2k

summary: You end up moving something Gator needs, and when he trips because of it, you feel just as awful as he does.

cw: blind! gator, hurt/ comfort, fluff, description of bloody/bruised/swollen nose, gator tripping, gator being rude with r, happy ending, soft gator, mention of anxiety/ panic attack (small), lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: i know there was a request for more religious reader x gator but while i think of ideas for it here's some soft gator <3 feel free to send requests for it ;) enjoyyyy

You step out of your car a second after Gator does. Busy turning the car off and waiting for the garage door to fully open. You two had just gone to the store to get some groceries. 

Gators hand trails along the side of the car till he reaches the trunk and opens it up. Feeling around for the handles of the plastic bag that holds all your food. Which with his big hands and strong arms he’s able to get a good amount for the first round. You on the other hand settle for the two big packs of carbonated drinks.

The height of the boxes stacked on top of each other doesn't work too well for your sight, unable to see your feet or what's under you. So when you make it to the garage door it’s hard to see the door mat you have at the floor of it. The front of your flip flop bending at the slight height change in the ground causing you to trip and lose your balance. And almost drop the cans that surely would've exploded. 

Gator can hear your voice as you walk into the house but he can't quite catch what you're muttering about. All the curse words that slip from your lips from miscalculating your steps and tripping on practically nothing. And when you walk out, ready to get whatever bags Gator couldn't get on his second trip, you decide to move the door mat to the side. Punishing it from its only job for what it did to you. 

Turns out his second trip was the final trip. He’d gotten most of the bags the first time only having a couple more which he easily grouped together in his hand. You were so busy walking to the car, checking if there was anything more you needed, closing the trunk, locking it up– that you didn't quite see Gator fall. 

In fact you didn't see him fall at all. What you heard however, was his body hitting the ground, the food spill out all the bags, and a shout coming out of him. 

All within 5 seconds it happened. So quick that you could've blinked and missed it. And you did. But the second you heard it the car was done and forgotten about. Immediately worried about him, barely seeing his body through the garage door as he tries to get himself up from the floor. 

“Gator? Are you okay? What the hell happened?” You yell running up to him.

When he looks up your eyes widen even more. His nose had blood leaking from it, completely coating his lips and even staining his teeth. He’s still sitting on the floor but the injury makes you think he landed face first. Now his hands are coated in blood from trying to touch his nose, even the floor tile has some smeared blood. A perfect picture to show you just where he fell. 

“‘M fine.” He’s quick to push your grabby hands away. Using an arm to try and get up which has your hands back on him. It irritates him more than he realizes. “I said m’fine. Jus’ leave me the fuck alone would ya.” 

“Let me help Gates. I can get a cloth for your nose.” You do it before getting an answer out of him, even continue the conversation while you're down the hall grabbing a small towel for his nose. “What happened? Did you fall?” 

“The mat, it wasn't there.” He knows you moved it. It was there when he took the bags in the first time and was gone the second time, no one else was there to do it. But he decides to not point you out and blame you. Not a thing he needs right now. 

“Fuck I am so sorry I moved the mat. I didn't think you needed it, I tripped on it so I moved it thinking there were more bags-”

You’re overexplaining yourself, Gator barely even registers your words. His head is starting to pound and he can feel the thump of pain in his nose. Probably bruising, definitely swollen, completely bloody. A metallic taste of blood has taken over his mouth. 

“I use it to gauge where the step of the door is. The mat is right against the wall so it’s one step up when I reach it.” He speaks over you slightly. Like he’s done hearing your apologies and needs to get this over with. 

“Please let me help, I can help wash your face.” Your hands are clamped together, fingers intertwined in a begging pose. Because you are begging. Begging to help or for forgiveness that your stupidity got your boyfriend bloody and bruised. 

Normally he would be more open to you helping him. Except he’s in pain and hates that you are all over him. Like he can't do something so simple as to clean his own face. To top it all off he’s embarrassed. He shouldn't be, never when it comes to you. But he’s feeling the humiliation of his actions sink in. Falling meant he wasn't as tough and strong, that he still falters and does in fact need help. Would've been better if you weren't here at all to see it and then just lie when you eventually did ask about it. 

How embarrassing that because of one stupid mat he can fall flat on his face. He should have the house down by now, know how many steps it takes to get anywhere. Feeling like you can't trust your steps in your own house is where Gator draws the line. And normally you guys are good. You know not to move anything or to tell him if you do. And he can memorize it quickly so everything runs smoothly.

The mat being there is not something you would know he needed. Never once has he spoken up about it but that's kinda how half the things in your house are. There are some things in spots that seem so normal to you that are put there specifically for his convenience. To make getting around just that much easier, using less brain power. 

“Jesus Christ just let me handle it. ‘M good.” His words come out a little muffled, nose suffocated between the cloth and blood and his lips covered by whatever part of the cloth that isn't pressed against his nose. 

He makes his way towards the bathroom and shuts the door. A final action telling you to leave him alone, in case his harsh words weren't clear enough. You can tell he tried to keep his anger in, knowing that he could've said a lot worse but didn't. But it didn't stop him from letting his feelings get the best of him. Gator never yells at you, never purposefully tries to put you down but still you couldn't help but feel guilt physically eat you alive. 

Making your skin crawl from the inside out. Your heart is beating fast, when you press your hand against your skin you can feel the fast pumping immediately. It’s stupid really, how you could have a panic attack from something that didn't happen to you. But Gator isn't the only one humiliated. 

You know better than to move things without telling him. It’s something you do without even realizing it anymore, second nature to you now. So why you didn't this time you have no clue. Maybe it was because you had a personal vendetta against it, too busy stuck in your own head to think about anything else. 

His words repeat in your head over and over. Like the way he said it, voice barely wobbly like he was waiting till he was alone to break down and cry. Or how he wanted to get away from you as fast as possible. As if being around you would only cause more accidents. But that's all it was, an accident. Not something you meant to do on purpose and he knows this. Still it doesn't make his nose stop bleeding or your hands stop shaking. 

While he stays in the bathroom you put the food away, return the mat to its correct spot, and hide in your shared room. Even closing the door yourself. To cry about this is humbling, you don't have a scratch on you yet the tears stream down your face with ease. Your arms wrap around your torso, giving yourself a hug to try and ground you. Small sniffles escape you but you try your best to not let him hear it.

He takes about 10 minutes in there, silent, not asking for help, not wanting to hear your apologies. Just splashing cold water on his face, waiting for the blood to stop. His nose isn't broken, he’d know if it was from having experienced it before. It was just a little busted up from hitting the ground. In fact he actually did pretty good at trying to hold himself up, arms ready to take the fall but they just didn't. The ratio was probably off from where his arms were, too far by his head. 

A few minutes pass before you hear him call out for you. “Doll, could’ya come and make sure the bloods all gone?” 

His head hangs low when you meet up to him, waiting for you patiently to reach him. Once you do you can feel your lip tremble all over again. The size of his nose is doubled, swollen and growing a blueish yellow color from bruises. He feels your hand on his forearm before he hears you. 

“I think I stopped the blood but just wanna make sure it aint all over me.” He continues. 

Normally it’s you talking too much and him listening but for some reason it’s the other way around. Now your silence is the thing making him uncomfortable. As if maybe, just maybe, the fall was as embarrassing as it felt and you got grossed out. Seeing him take a tumble and have it affect him so easily probably isn't the most attractive thing. Makes his heart beat all the faster. Still he sits down on the toilet lid letting you do whatever you need to do to get him back to normal. 

That is until he hears you sniffle, trying to suck up the tears that are leaving your red burning eyes. 

“Are you cryin’?” 

Your eyes widen at being caught. “No.” Except you should've just stayed silent because all the mucus and liquids are in your throat, making you sound like you are in fact crying and your nose is so stuffed you can't breathe out of it. 

“C’mere.” He pats on his leg. 

You do as he asks and sit on his leg, letting one of your legs even drape over his other leg. Not the most comfortable position, your free leg stays on the ground trying to hold any left over weight so you're not crushing his thigh. 

“I’m really sorry Gator.” He can feel how hot your body is from all this crying. Even feels the tears on your face when he pushes the hair away from your cheeks. 

“It’s all good angel. Promise, I know it was just an accident.” His heavy petting of your hair plus his words are enough to have you relax enough to put your head on his shoulder. 

“I should've known better.” He can feel you shake your head but he tries to stop you with his hand on your jaw. 

“You never would've known unless I told ya, which I didn't.” 

“You can trip me so we’re even if you want.” 

This gets a small laugh out of Gator, not expecting you to say that. “I don’t wanna trip ya sweet girl. No need to be even when you didn't do anything wrong.” He waits for your sniffles to calm down before trying again. “Plus shoulda known the mat was off.” It’s a bad time for a joke but still he tries. 

It’s all in hopes for a laugh out of you but all he gets is a small kiss to his neck. You probably still feel bad, and that feeling might not go away till his nose completely heals. Which means you should expect these types of jokes out of him for the next few weeks. Anything to try and cheer you up. The action is sweet, it’ll always get him a kiss but maybe not that bright laugh he’s looking for. 

He lets you sit with him for a minute or two before you get up to continue wiping away any of the blood he might've missed. Also telling him spots on his teeth to go over with his tongue to try and get the blood away. When he brushes his teeth later tonight the rest will be dealt with but right now the less evidence of how much he was hurt the better. 

The rest of the night is spent on the couch with Gator. A show is on the tv and his head is laying in your lap with a frozen bag of peas resting against his nose. When his hand gets too cold you switch with him, lightly pressing it to his skin. After a couple of minutes he gets too cold and demands a kiss to help him feel better. Which you have to give since it’s your fault this happened in the first place. 

https://www.tumblr.com/c4tluver02/814105187266494464/regarding-to-your-pussy-as-her

wc: 4.9k

summary: You thought you could spend 5 days with out Gator while he goes on a trip. Turns out you were wrong.

cw: MDNI, filth, f!reader, female anatomy, dacryphilia (blink and you'll miss it), regarding vagina as 'her', loss of virginity f!r, p in v sex, Gator calling your vagina his, religious!reader, unprotected sex, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: request here.. thank you for asking more of gator and his sweet little church girl! i love writing gator tehehe!!! also i literally have 0 religious background so if i got something wrong please let me know :))

part 1, part 2, this is part 3 or could be standalone !

Gator was gone for five days. 

Monday to Friday. On some job his daddy sent him on. A useless, barely needed to be done, type of job but still something Gator was forced to do nonetheless. Normally you can deal with Roy and the chores he gives your boyfriend. Because what were you gonna do about it? But shipping him off to tie some loose ends was just Roy giving into the greed of laziness. A sin in itself if anyone asked you. 

The days went on slowly. It was shocking how bored you were. You’ve lived alone before Gator, all naive and innocent, spending your days at church or helping with some charities around town– so you should be able to live without him now. But for some reason you were struggling. A part of you missed him in a way you didn't know was possible. Like if there was a hole in you only he could fix. As if a part of you is missing without him. 

The first day or two you spent baking. Deciding to use your free time and space– without Gator trying to eat all the food– to make some desserts. First you started out with cookies, making them from scratch. But when that only took you a few hours out of the 12 hour day so you baked more. Next was a pie that you would send to the police station for Roy and the guys to have. Half hoping it is a good enough gift that God will accept for the awful things you think of him and half because it’s never bad to be on his good side. 

Roy is the first person you see when you walk into the station. Not exactly the man you wanted to see but the man who you intend on eating this pie. He greets you in a way he never would if Gator was around, hands on your shoulder that then move to your waist. You make up an excuse to leave feeling extremely uncomfortable. And you know better than to try to look at the other men for help, too stuck under Roy's thumb to stop him. 

When you get home you send Gator the picture you took when you were done baking the pie. You have the apron he loves to see you wear on. He says it makes your boobs look extra good, and he’d agree after seeing the photo. You even let him know that you went to the station to give it to Roy and the guys working. Except leaving out the reason you left so quickly. He’s quick to give you praise. 

Gator💘: Ur perfect doll. 

Gator💘: I love u, keep being a good girl for me. 

Gator💘: Remind me when I get home to put a ring on that pretty finger. 

Normally Gator gives your praise for anything. You do the dishes, you get praise. You cook dinner, you get praise. Like you don't also need clean dishes and food for dinner. His daddy always says it’s your role, what you’re there for, he tries instilling that thinking into Gator. But all Gator can do is thank you for doing it. 

And if he were home he'd probably do more than praise you. Maybe have a little make out session, let you sit in his lap while you let his hands roam all over you. You’d grind your hips into his while he ruts his up to match your pace. You never let it go too far but you’re so kind you never let him go without. Whether it’s a hand job, something Gator recently taught you to do for him after a forever of begging, or rubbing him over his pants, he always finishes. Although you’d never let yourself be so lucky. Too aware, too much of a rule follower, too much religious guilt already wrapped around you. 

And you’d be lying if you said the simple thoughts of those moments didn't get you heated. That his texts didn't go straight to your cunt. While you're in bed texting him you grab his pillow, sniffing it to get any hints of his shampoo or cologne. Then Gator calls you, in the middle of it all. His tired voice does numbers for you, you can feel the wetness through your pajama shorts. 

And before you know it the pillow is pushed under you, quickly trying to find a corner that has some sturdiness to it to give you the right type of pleasure you so desperately crave. Riding it slowly but with intense pressure, it starts to feel good. He unknowingly talks you through what you're doing. Telling you how your picture made him have to go to the bathroom mid talking to someone and you breathlessly scold him. Like what you're doing right now is any better. 

Day three is spent at church all day long. Hoping whatever you were doing yesterday gets forgiven. Repenting in any way you can. Letting anyone who's listening know that you’d never give into that. Never let such a disturbing sin grab hold of you. Especially not when you're so close to marriage. It’s really around the corner, Gators talks about it so much, it has to be soon. 

Day four you feel a little better. You deep clean the entire house, specifically the kitchen since you left it in a bit of a mess from all the cooking you did. Vacuuming, mopping, dusting, doing the laundry, going to the grocery store to stack up on all of Gator's favorites. You were busy to say the least. 

That was until you decided to show Gator the beautiful necklace the church gave you. They said it was because you help around more than any member, and that you deserved it more than anyone. You had the idea to show him after your shower, rinsing off the sweat and lingering chemical smells you had from cleaning. The long mirror in your room was your perfect height, going a little bit above your head. Allowing you to put your camera over your face to focus on the beautiful cross necklace. 

At this point in time all you have on is your undergarments. A white bra and white cotton underwear. Your bra is pretty, it has lace on the trim and a little bow in the middle. The white looks bright against your tanned skin, a shade or two darker due to your time in the sun. 

In the first picture you take it’s a little off, too much of your neck and jaw not enough of your necklace. The second attempt is good enough but your third attempt is what you send to your boyfriend. It’s a nice picture of your necklace but more than that it shows the top of your bra, going far enough to see the small bow in the middle with ease.  The faceless picture makes it feel dirty, like you can't excuse it because it’s clearly a titty pic. Your hand that's not holding the phone holds onto the cross in the picture, like that's gonna save you for sending something so scandalous. 

All you can tell yourself is that it’s not a perverted picture. Gator has seen you like this more times than you can count, he’s seen you naked for crying out loud. A little bit of your bra isn't going to send you to hell, you’ll be just fine. 

What Gator is doing all the way in his hotel room however, is perverted. With his hand down his boxers he tries to type a message out. Fumbling because his eyes go from his practically hard dick, to your boobs, to the keyboard. You never send him anything like this, he feels like a boy on christmas day. 

Gator💘: More? Lower?

A tough shot honestly. You may get angry at him for viewing the picture in such a sinful way or you might go with it. Already this far might as well go further. In reality Gator is struggling just as much as you. Missing your hands all over him at night or the food you make him for breakfast. All the tiny ways you take perfect care of him that he was never taught to do himself. 

And man oh man God is good!!

You send a picture back to him. Except this one is just your body. You’re sitting on the floor, legs pushed to one side and posing. Showing him more than he thought he’d ever get. He knows exactly the things you’re wearing and how they feel, and if he thinks hard enough he could almost smell how you taste. He comes way too fast and texts back how beautiful you look. 

The rest of the day is spent with you trying to forget this ever happened in your clean spotless house. 

By day 5 you feel like you can breathe again. Gator comes back in the evening so you give yourself the day off. Basically all you could do has been done and now you can relax. Laying on the couch, watching a movie, bowl of popcorn in your lap. It’s perfect. A nice relaxing day. 

So relaxing that you fell asleep. 

You didn't plan on falling asleep, didn't even think you were tired enough for it. But the two hours of rest really took you out of it. Fully dreaming, in REM sleep, unaware of anything going on. 

Like Gator coming home. 

He had a feeling you’d fallen asleep because you weren't answering your texts. Your location shows you're at home so it lessened his worries. And he was right, walking through the door as quietly as he could before setting everything down in the front area. Making sure to take off his boots to truly not wake you up. A sweet gesture he doesn't even realize he is doing. It only takes a few steps before he sees you. 

The sight is genuinely torture. You're laying on your belly, face pressed into your arm, the blanket has fallen off you and onto the floor revealing the tiniest shorts you own and your shirt scrunched up to show a little of your bra. The shorts could practically pass as underwear. Showing off your ass in the most delicious way, paired with the sleepy pouty lips you have, and the fact that he hasn't seen you in five days has him feeling like some animal. 

So pent up he doesn't even know what to do with himself. If he was in his dream world he would wake you up with his dick in your mouth. Using you to get him all wet before traveling to other places. Even the thought of it has him hard already. 

Instead what he does is way kinder, less appalling, more gentle. Starting by kneeling to your level, then pushing the hair that's fallen out of your face, pressing small kisses on your face. Which works, getting a groan from you that doesn't help Gator in the slightest. You’re in the weird spot of half asleep half awake where you can hear him and feel him but your eyes dont wanna open. So it all still feels like a dream. 

“Hey mama, m’home. Wanna wake up fer me?” He asks, letting his kisses go from your cheek to your jaw, going down to the sweet spots on your neck that get a throaty sound out of you. 

“Mmm Gator.” Your head tips to go further into the pillow so your neck gets more exposed, barely awake but too into the sensations you're feeling. 

“I know, I know doll.” 

Him pausing to speak allows you to move your body, changing the way you're laying. Going from laying on your tummy to laying on your back so he could get to you easier. Even though you're not fully awake to realize it yet. Still he accepts the change happily, moving to get on the couch, arms on the sides of your head, knees kneeling between your open legs.

Moving between kissing your neck and lips now that you're more awake to reciprocate them. And despite everything feeling fuzzy around the edges and not knowing what time it is you let him. Hands clawing at his shirt– specifically his biceps that are restricted by his shirt. 

The kiss is so passionate and feverish. Five days of waiting and frustration all coming out in the barely lit living room. Now that the sun's going down it’s getting dark quickly. But none of that really matters when Gator makes the move of squeezing your boobs under your pajama shirt. The simple feeling of it has you arching your back, he gets the hint and unclips your bra. If you were more awake you’d find it extremely hot that he did it without looking. 

“Arm’s up, c’mon.” He says tapping the side of your waist. 

You listen like a well trained dog. Arms going up while his lips attack any new skin that shows. Bra and shirt are off in seconds, his thumb brushing against your hardening nipples. His mouth on yours swallow the moans that are spilling out of you from his actions. Hips lifting up to meet him out of pure instinct. You’re not sure why you did it, why it was instinct for your body. Never a movement you’d let yourself willingly do before, a physical action of need for him in a sexual manner. A rotten, filthy, disgusting action. An action you’d never do if you were fully awake. 

But you’re not fully awake and you’re not quite sure if you want to be. Never wanting to witness this happening with full clarity. Seeing your actions repeated over and over in your own mind. Maybe that and the fact that this fuzzy feeling is adding to everything Gator is doing to you. Like him moving one of his arms to grip around your thigh tightly. Something to ground him while he feels like he’s winning the lottery. 

He knows he got you here. Knew you’d crack and break right before him. Whether you will be okay with it tomorrow isn't really a thought in his brain right now. Only making you feel good and him feel better. Because unlike you the guilt won't eat him up entirely. Not caring less if you have a ring around your finger for this to happen. Honestly he’s been suffering this whole time so really he deserves this. It should be celebrated and allowed to happen again and again now that you've broken. 

“Y’want it huh baby? Need it don’cha? It’s all my fault, shoulda never left ya fer so long.” 

His words get you to places you never thought you'd be without a wedding ring. Gator focuses on his shirt next but you're whining under him. Literally clawing at his belt like you’re gonna wither away without his dick in you soon. He can't help the huge smile on his face, it almost hurts. 

“Gotta tell me doll, whatda want huh? Can't read your mind.” He works on his belt you were begging about while he waits on your answer. 

What he should know is you’re never going to just come out and say you need his dick in you. Especially for your first time, you really wanted this to be done right. Like on your honeymoon, in a big bed, preferably in another state. Maybe a little tipsy and bubbly as his hands roam all around you, the cold gold band on his ring finger giving you goosebumps. 

Instead you’re on your couch, back already hurting from how thin the cushions are. In your pajamas, a pimple patch on your forehead probably reflecting whatever left of light you have.  And still despite all that no one's hearing you say no. No one there hearing you say stop. 

Gators voice snaps you out of your thoughts. “You still asleep or what? Needa hear you.” The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine. It’s very stern like he wouldn't continue if he didn't hear you actually wanted it. A kind gesture because you shouldn't want it. But you do. 

“Need you, Gator. Need you so so bad.” 

With that his cargo pants slide down his legs as he kicks them off to the ground. Now all that's left is you in your shorts and underwear and Gator in his underwear. It’s quite the scene, the two of you all breathless and into it. A completely different world from where you were 20 minutes ago. With his lips all over your boobs it almost feels like you’re still in that world. 

As one hand massages your left boob his mouth is sucking on your right nipple. Practically drooling all over it, and a part of you thinks he meant to do this because he blows cold air onto it. Getting a high pitched gasp out of you. Your hands are raked through his gelled hair, breaking the cast of it and gripping tightly. 

He goes lower and lower till he's at the bottom of your belly, below your belly button and above your pussy. Giving light kisses as his hands grip tightly on your thighs– sure enough to leave bruises and half moon shape cuts from his nails. 

Pulling off your shorts and underwear together is a skill he’s too good at for this being your first time with him but you don't have the mental capacity to even think more about it. From one second to the next his lips are giving light kisses and kitten licks on your cunt. Already soaked from all this kissing and touching you've been doing. 

You can physically feel the vibrations of his moan once he tastes you. “God, could live off her fer forever. Taste so sweet, mama.” 

The way you push his head down and your hips up to shut him up makes his dick throb even more. Desperate to feel those vibrations again, or anything more than just small licks. Which he seems to get the hint because soon after he’s devouring you. Sucking on your clit as he pushes his tongue in and out of your tight hole. Gator can feel you clamp around his tongue, making his dick twitch in his boxers. 

It really doesn't take long till your grip on his hair tightens and your legs shake. Letting out the most pornographic moan he’s ever heard out of you. He lets you come down slowly still giving your clit some action but not enough to overstimulate you. 

“Made a mess outta me doll, got me completely soaked.” He says but he doesn't even bother wiping any of it away, instead leaning back up to give you a kiss. You can taste yourself on him and even more so when his tongue fights with yours. 

This whole position is killing both of you. The couch is not being made for this at all, in fact it’s slightly coming apart in  the middle from the weight of you both. Would it be easier to go down the hall to your bed, probably yeah. But you’ve never gotten this far and Gators a little worried you might be done. Cutting him off completely after having your first orgasm on this fuck ass couch he brought from his old place. 

It’s only once you calm down a little that Gator feels your hands trying to pull his boxers off. So he keeps going. Giving into your needy hands and taking his underwear off for it to bob slightly in the air from the quick movement. Letting the couch get a break he stands up and lets you sit on it. 

“Get to it mama, need’a get nice n’ wet for that little pussy o’mine huh?” 

HIs hands are quick to gather your hair, not getting every strand in his swift movement but he gets enough. Enough to get a nice grip to pull gaining full control over your head. You have your tongue out, as if to say you're ready for whatever he’s planning to do to you. 

At first he just pushes his cock into the side of your mouth, getting it nice and wet. Liking the visual of his dick making a physical appearance through your cheek. Then he pushes your head a little more forward letting you fully suck him off. What your mouth can't reach your hands finish. Still pearing up at him but now with little tears brimming your eyes. So fucked out you couldnt belive it. 

As much as he loves your throat he could almost promise he’d love that unused cunt even more. Which is why he pulls you off. A little ‘pop’ sound comes out of you as you get removed. After he lets go of your hair he gives your forehead a kiss, a gentle moment to show you he’s not always all rough and hard like this.

“Turn f’me mama.” He gestures with his hand doing a little swirl moment to get his point across. 

You do as told and your front is now facing towards the couch, arms resting on the top part of it that meets the wall. Gator doesn't have a condom anywhere on him. Not in his wallet because it's not like he's just having sex out and about. And not even in his bedside drawer because you’d find it and get rid of it. Maybe this whole time you were just telling him you wanted it raw. Shit he knows he does. 

And you don't even say anything about it when you feel his dick rub against your pussy. The veins and ridges catch along your clit as he goes back and forth coating himself in you. It has you moaning and pressing your forehead against the wall, needing something to ground you in this moment. 

However once he sticks the tip into you it’s a whole other story. Your hand scram behind you searching for his, your head falls back, and your toes slightly curl. It’s a whole new feeling compared to his fingers or his tongue. 

“Y’good baby? Fuck y’so tight and warm. So unfortunate she had to wait f’so long.” 

“M’good. Go, k-keep going.” You nod feverishly. His hand squeezes yours before you take both of your hands to go back to the top of the couch. Half his body bends over yours to reach but the warmth of his skin only does more for you. 

His pace is slow at first. Consistent, tender, and his moans behind you tell you all you need to know. The only thing leaving his lips are the most vulgar swear words. Hands roaming your body. Switching between your boobs, thighs, and ass. Gripping onto the skin that's slapping against him and digging his nails in. Only going back to your nipples and twisting them between his finger tips, getting the best sounds out of you. 

“More, need more Gate, please.” What kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn't do that for you? 

His grip switched to your hips to get good traction of your body. Using you to stay upright. The pace increases, the loudest sound besides your moans are his skin slapping against yours– echoing off the walls. When your hips push back while he pushes forward you two both get what you want. A delicious feeling, curing you of that emptiness you were experiencing for five days straight. 

Gator is so hypnotized but your cunt sucking him in and out. Taking him like you were made purely for this. The way your hole stretches around his huge dick, turning a light pink with the way he’s abusing it. The visual is too much; he almost misses you praying. 

Your hands pressed together as your sweaty forehead falls between your arms. Probably trying to come up with an excuse or something to tell God while Gator pounds into you like it’ll be his last time. Which honestly he doesn't know, it could be. God will have to excuse him for it, too blissed out on you and how you feel around him. 

“Jesus fuckin’ christ angel, could die tomorrow and id be a happy man.” Gator grunts, jaw clenched as his teeth grind together. 

“Dont.. I can't- don't say that.” You still have your hands together. Except this time you look behind your shoulder to find him. 

He looks otherworldly. Strands of hair falling onto his face, biting the life out of his bottom lip, eyes so big and dark like he’s fully becoming someone else in this moment. Which he is, he’s becoming a new man who finally got pussy after ages of waiting. His arms look so big right now, using every muscle in his body to hold onto you and not give up the speed he’s going at. 

“M’not gonna die dont worry.” If he wasnt fucking you dumb he would’ve rolled his eyes. 

“No, God's name.. Oh my. God’s name in vain. More Gator. More more. ” You’re mewling at him. 

Jaw hanging open like you don't have any control over any part of your body. Too focused on the feeling of his cock hitting the perfect spot over and over. It’s like you can feel him in your chest he's so deep inside of you. And yet with all of that going on you can still call him out for blasphemy. The whole thing feels like your words are going through one ear and out the other until you feel his fingers circle your clit. Giving it the attention it’s been begging for. 

“Corinthians 16:14 angel. Say it f’me.” Saying a bible verse and his nickname for you while doing what he’s doing should be illegal. Something that should never happen. Yet of course he does it. 

“Gator, no, cant.” You shake your head, your boobs pressing against the now sweaty leather of the couch. 

“Say it or I'll stop.” 

“Let all you do be done in love.” Somehow it’s the first sentence you've been actually able to spit out fully. Maybe God is on your side. 

“Exactly. Love you s’much angel, all I wanna do is show you how much I love you.” You can feel him give you a kiss on your shoulder blade. But once you feel it you turn your head and pucker your lips. The kiss is passionate, full of lust and love. Not some quick thing to please you but something both of you really mean in that moment. 

“I love you too, Gator. Couldn't live without you. N-not even for five days.”

Gator can see your hands grip tightly on the couch. Squeezing the leather between your hands form the feeling coiling up in your belly. Even with the way you suck him in he can feel just how close you are. His hand speeds up on your clit as his dick pounds into you with all his might. The way you yell out his name has Gator is right behind you. The two of you using the last of your energy to go as hard as you can, both bodies meeting each other to get one thing. 

A true blessing is Gator remembering hes quite literally fucking you raw right now. The thought both gets him to come but also forces him to pull out of you. You fall from your kneeling position on the couch as he spirts his cum along your back and side. He even has to reach his arm out for the couch so he doesn't fall over from how much he’s cumming.

You two lay limp on the couch, sweaty and panting for air. Extremely out of breath and breathing in the sex aroma surrounding the living room. Gator lets you relax for a second before grabbing his t-shirt to wipe his semen off of you. Giving your head kisses while he does it. It’s easy to fall into him, leaning your head against his shoulder. 

It’s hard to feel so bad about what you did when you feel on top of the world. So close and connected with the person you love most. If anything this showed you that you could love him even more, in a different way. Not even purely sexual but in a way that feels close and personal. Fully trusting someone else in a vulnerable way that you wouldn't do with just anyone. 

“Are y’okay angel? You feeling okay?” Gator questions, wanting to make sure he didn't go overboard. 

“I’m okay baby. Are you okay?” 

“Never been fuckin’ better.” He snickers. The realization of what just happened hitting him square in the face.