#(love you Tillman)

[heystevenn]

i will never forget you im never gonna fuck you shirt 🥳🥳🥳

[psychotic-nonsense]

"I'm sorry."

It's the first thing Steve says after everything.

After getting Vecna Cursed. After nearly dying. After a hallucination of Eddie saved him. After running through a looped forest. After finding sanctuary in Steve's memory of that Starcourt bathroom. After Eddie reveals himself as Eddie.

It's the only thing he can think of. It's not big enough to fit everything, but it's the only thing that fits in his mouth.

"Don't be."

Maybe that's the only thing Eddie can think of too. The only thing Eddie can bear to say.

Because don't be can't stop Steve's eyes from watering when he sees the vest in his closet. Don't be can't stop Steve's feet from dragging him to the cemetery every evening to clean Eddie's graffiti-covered tombstone. Don't be can't stop Steve from sitting beside Wayne and listening to him talk about the Eddie he remembers. Don't be can't stop Eddie's body from showing up in Steve's dreams, nor Eddie's corpse from his nightmares. Don't be couldn't keep the pain away enough, didn't stop Vecna from latching onto it while Steve was walking alone in the woods.

Don't be isn't enough for what Steve wants to hear. But even stuck here waiting, hoping, for someone to get Steve out, there just isn't enough time.

"I miss you."

"...Why?"

Eddie says it back so quickly, so quietly, like it's just unfathomable to him. Maybe it is, considering their last memories. But their eyes meet and he looks just as sad, just as longing, as Steve.

"You were my friend."

Steve can't help but say it like that. Like they were friends for years instead of days. Like Eddie was that important to him in their final moments. Like his heart really aches for Eddie every second of the apocalypse.

Can't help but say it like he means it.

"I wish we could've had more time..."

Steve's voice cracks a little there as he turns away, hiding. It's all he wants. It's all Vecna used to entice him with. It's all that's keeping him going, to finally fulfill the last request Eddie made. It's all he has left to feel close to Eddie.

The Eddie that's sitting right next to him, silent, his sight weighing on Steve's skin. Conscious and aware and the real Eddie. Trapped in Vecna's head as a backup power source, yet who still risked everything to come save Steve. Who Steve will never see again because killing Vecna means killing Eddie for good, and his heart doesn't want it, is begging for another solution...

But for once, his broken head overpowers his shattered heart.

"Maybe we did."

Eddie takes Steve's hand. Meets Steve's surprised look with his own small smile of hope. They're both suddenly tearing up, eyes glistening with life in this gray stall.

"Maybe in another world, we got a second first chance. A first second chance. Maybe even a third, or fourth. Maybe in a different life, we had everything we wanted. Because you, Steve Harrington, are too good for me to be doomed to meet just once."

And for a moment, Steve sees it. Feels it. Versions of them connected through the universe.

Little kids playing in the lake. One with bruised skin and shaved hair, loud but unfathomably lonely. One with a bruised heart and soft eyes, timid but stubbornly hopeful.

A rockstar with glittering chains, center stage in the spotlight. A set of eyes in the crowd or behind the curtain, watching only him.

A werewolf and a vampire, two cryptids of horror, meeting in the dead of a full moon night to feel safe with the only other one who understands.

A future where they won, where the only death was the one that mattered. A process of healing and learning, coming home to a family every single day.

A world without pain, without their hell, where two high schoolers found freedom from their shackles and company in each other. Hiding away together in the dark corners of the town.

Steve even sees other versions of them. Versions that he knows were originally never supposed to meet, yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together.

A metalhead drug dealer, constantly getting into trouble with one nail-bat-weilding cop.

A criminal's fugitive nature leading him to a rugged trailer park, and the dangerous owner within one such home.

An eccentric king in an old coliseum, always choosing one particular warrior as his champion.

A young programmer being pulled away from his work by sobs above his apartment, running upstairs to check on the law student that recently moved in.

Two actors, finding an easy friendship in the months of filming one season of a show that would change their lives.

In that moment, Steve's overwhelmed by the closeness he suddenly feels with the soul beside him. Falling into tears, he pulls Eddie into a tight hug, holding him so so close to convey everything he can't say. Feeling Eddie hold him back, hearing everything Eddie can't say in return.

Familiar music comes on outside the stall. Robin's voice calls out to him, telling him to come home.

And when he does leave, Steve hopes that someone out there will understand that he never can. Because here in Eddie's arms is the only place that will ever truly feel like home.

"Thank you... for everything, Eddie."

Thank you, Steve. For everything and more..."

--------------------

- List of AUs, in order, after, "Versions of them connected through the universe": Childhood Friends / Rockstar!Eddie / Werewolf!Steve & Vampire!Eddie / Eddie Survives / No Upside Down & High School

- List of Multiverse Steddie AUs, in order, after, "...yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together": Eddie x Gator / Baron x Michael / Geta x Sean / Keys x Eric / Quinn and Keery

[buckysbarnes]

JOE KEERY as GATOR TILLMAN “The Tender Trap” 5.06 • Fargo

[seabreeze1969]

Strawberry Pancakes

Summary: Gator Tillman meets OC stripper. She is reluctant to give him a dance, but ends up enjoying it a little too much. He is more than happy to break some rules with her.

Tags/Warnings: strippers, thigh riding, lap dance, power dynamics, paid intimacy, dirty talk, teasing

Chapter One

~Gator

It was the second Friday of May. Every other Friday he found himself sitting in the back of The Tender Trap, a local strip club, with an envelope in his pocket as he waited for a militia man to collect the hefty support of Sheriff Roy Tillman, his father. It was an easy job. That’s why his father gave it to him. At least it was supposed to be easy. But things never came easy to Gator.

As his lazy gaze glossed around the small club, his heart caught in his throat. He wasn’t met with Roxy or Crystal, the usual dancers who would throw him winks every now and again. He saw a young woman he’d never seen before. He was sure if she had been there any of the other Fridays he would’ve known.

Her legs were toned, but covered in stockings forcing him to imagine the bare skin underneath. As his gaze slithered further up skipping over her bare stomach to her breasts he started to feel his pants tighten. The white laced cups pushed up her small tits and had them spilling out over the low top. And finally he reached her face. Her bouncy brown curls framed her soft face, and he couldn’t help but let his mouth fall open as he caught her big doe eyes.

He knew he must’ve looked like a moron sitting there with his jaw on the floor, but he couldn’t help himself. She was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in person. Something straight off of one of those raunchy old bikini posters he tacked behind his bed.

Before he could stop himself his feet carried him over to the seats closest to the stage where she was entertaining two other men. The closer he got the more her eyes narrowed at him and she suddenly seemed familiar, “Wait a minute. Aren’t you the doc’s kiddo? Miss Grey?” He’d seen her only a couple times when he had to visit the local clinic after a job went sideways, and she looked vastly different in layers of clothes and thick rimmed glasses. But she had given him that same narrow look.

“No, sir,” she shook her head, her full lips turning into a pout, “My name is Candy.”

“Hah, yeah sure it is,” he huffed a laugh, “Anyways, aren’t you a little too smart to be dancing around half naked?”

And then it was her turn to laugh, “If smarts had anything to do with it you’d be the one in heels up here, sheriff.”

“Ouch, sour Candy. You trying to hurt my feelings, girl?” Gator mocked hurt feelings, putting his hand over his heart.

“Were you trying to hurt mine?” She shot back.

“No. How about you make it up to me with a dance?”

“Aren’t you on duty?”

“Nah, I just dress like this for fun,” he hooked his thumbs into the bulky sheriff’s vest, showing it off.

“Won’t it be a bad look for your father?” It was true his father’s election was going to be up soon.

“He’ll be alright. You running out of excuses?” Gator checked.

“I could just say ‘no.’ If you don’t want to take a hint,” she condescended, and that just made him want her all the more. No way in hell was she gonna say ‘no’ to him. He had all the power he needed in the envelope, who would even notice if a couple of the hundreds were missing? Taking less than a second to decide he pulled out the envelope and started counting out the hundred dollar bills that he definitely should not be spending at a strip club.

“Are you deaf? Or just dumb?” Candy frowned, but as he continued to count them she changed her tune, “Holy smokes, where’d you get all that?”

He waved three hundreds at her, “How bout that dance?”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times, struggling with the decision, but then she nodded in defeat, “Let’s go.” She hopped off the stage, and took his hand in her own. Her hand was trembling, until she squeezed him a little harder, and he pretended not to notice it. Pretended he was far too preoccupied with the way her ass swayed back and forth in her little white lace underwear.

In the private room there was one lone chair in the center with dark velvet couches surrounding it. As she stepped into the room her white undergarments turned dark red with the lights. She led him to the chair in the center of the room, shoving him down roughly. He made a show of it for her, collapsing into the chair even though he was barely moved from her hands pushing his chest, “Take it easy, baby.”

She ignored him, sliding her hands across his chest into his leather jacket, to slip it off, taking his vest with it. She hooked it on the back of the chair, which still left him in his bulky hoodie.

“That’s more like it, sweetheart,” he grinned as she walked in front of him again. He drank her in once again now that he had her all to himself. Her slim ankles wrapped in the white plastic straps of the clear high heels that were giving her an extra half foot at least. She looked a little unsteady as his gaze raked up the stockings, lingering on the smooth bare skin of her upper thigh. He imagined for a moment how her legs would wrap around him, how he’d grip her hips. The swell of her hips was accentuated as she took a small step toward him, shifting her weight. As his eyes moved up he found her chest rising and falling in quick breathes, her breasts spilling out of the wired corset cups on every intake. Her blush went all the way down her neck, and when his gaze flickered up to her eyes she cast hers to the floor.

“Don’t get all shy on me now,” he admonished half-heartedly, pleased with her little show of innocence. It was charming.

She took another deep breath, drawing his attention back down to her breasts once again, and unballed her fists, starting to undo the bottom of her corset top. He watched her struggle with the little wire clasps that ran up the front for a long minute before he finally huffed a little laugh, “You need a hand?”

She looked up at him with those big brown eyes, and he wondered if it was more than just a show. Then she frowned and gritted, “Shut up.” And he knew it wasn’t. And that made his cock twitch in his pants. She finally got all the clasps undone and then tossed the offending garment on the couch beside her, unable to hide her pride at getting the damned thing off. She locked her arms in front of her, covering up her exposed nipples. He barely caught a glimpse of the pink skin. And then she seemed to realize what she had done and forced her arms behind her back, sticking out her chest.

“I’ve never done this before,” she finally confessed, but he had gathered that.

“I can tell,” he chuckled, “This might be the worst strip dance I’ve ever seen.”

That seemed to set something off in her. He was good at setting people off. Her cheeks were puffed out in anger as she slowly sank down to her knees, not bothering to hide her disgust at the old tile floors. And then she crawled on her hands and knees to him, swaying her hips and holding his stare like it was a challenge. He kicked his boots out on either side of him, making room for her between his thighs. Then he locked his fingers behind his head and reclined a little, the picture of unbothered, indifferent to her. And he saw exactly what he wanted. That angry determination swirling in those narrowed eyes as she let her cheek rest on his inner thigh.

She ran her hands up his shins, to the expanse of his muscular thighs. He felt the heat of her palm reach the bulge of his hardening cock, straining under his cargo pants. Her brow went up in accusation, “For the worst dance you’ve ever had, you seem to be enjoying it.”

“I’m easy,” he shrugged. Then her tongue was licking a stripe over the outline of his dick and his mouth fell open as he was unable to maintain his cool attitude toward the half naked woman between his legs. That had to be against the rules.

Before he could recover she was swinging her hips to the low vibrations of the bass that penetrated the room. She came up to her full height, giving him an eyeful of her breasts, making his mouth start salivating. Maybe he had just fallen for an act of innocence. Massaged them in his face, letting her head roll back as she let a small moan slip past her lips. His hands were moving on their own, in an attempt to assist her, when she slapped them away, “Hands by your side, deputy, or I’ll use your stupid cuffs on you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled out slow, gripping the sides of the chair to keep them there, but her threat just turned him on even more. Having her handcuff him sounded like a damn good time to him.

She swung one leg over his so her back was to him, and crawled down the slope of his leg, leaving her ass high in the air, and his hands squeezing the sides of the chair as she bounced a little on his leg. And then in time with music she was snapping back to sitting upright and grinding her hips just an inch above his thigh, letting him see that she was actually getting wet. Then she stepped out again, twisting to face him and kicked one of his boots so his legs came together before she sat in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and playing with his hair just enough to make his head lull back and seek her fingers. He hadn’t felt a touch like that in years, something intimate and gentle. Hell, if he knew a strip dance felt this good he would’ve started skimming money a long time ago, but he had a feeling it was just her making him feel this way.

She bit her lip, trying to contain a grin, and he felt like he was losing the game he had set up. But she made losing feel good.

Then the song switched from fast paced to a slow jam and she lit up, standing to dance in front of him once again. She was familiar with the song, mouthing the words as she ran her hands up her body and tangled them in her hair the way his hands wanted to. While she mouthed the explicit lyrics, he imagined her in his ear whispering filth only he would ever hear.

Her body rolled in time with the slow beat and she ran her hand down between her breasts, over her flat stomach and dipped between her legs for just a second before she pulled her hand back and ran her tongue over them, her tongue that was nearly on his dick when he had ticked her off. “You want a taste?” she asked, tilting her head curiously, and only then had he noticed his mouth had fallen open in want. He only nodded, sticking his tongue out as she stepped closer to him again with her outstretched hand. Her fingers were glossy from her spit as she brushed them gently over his upper lip, avoiding his tongue, and then pulled back, leaving him running his tongue along his lip trying to taste her. He thought maybe she was wearing some kind of strawberry chapstick as he savored a distant artificial sweetness.

He hummed his approval, and when he caught her eye again her pupils were blown wide. He could nearly see himself reflected in them. He was in a similar state. And then she stepped one leg between his and slowly lowered her hips onto his thigh, grinding on him in time with the music. Her skin was hot, like her entire body was blushing. It gave him goosebumps under his jacket where her warmth couldn’t reach.

And then she made a noise in the back of her throat that had him choking on the air in the room, which was suffocating him with a palpable heat. It wasn’t an over the top moan like from the porn he usually watched, it was a whine she had tried to hide but it slipped past her lips anyways. It was the sexiest thing he had ever heard in his life.

She bit her lip and looked at him apologetically, “Hah, sorry.” And the weight of her lifted up, before his hands flew out to stop her.

“No, don’t stop,” he lifted his knee in a jerk response, applying more pressure to her clit. He pulled and pushed her waist back and forth over his thigh, making her breath quicken. She was so sensitive, shaking like a leaf as he pushed his thigh up hard against her, with intention. He wanted to give her that friction which clearly affected her. His eyes traveled down her body to find a wet spot on his camouflage, “Gonna make a mess on my trousers, girl.”

She looked away in embarrassment as he looked up at her in awe. Her lower lip trembled as he leaned forward, bringing his hand to cradle her cheek. He was completely entranced in her glowing red face. He wanted to stop the anxious tremble of her lip, soothe her embarrassment away however he could. But he found no words, instead leaning in, and letting his eyes slip closed as he brushed his thumb down her bottom lip. He could feel her sharp intake of breath nearly against his mouth. He can’t remember wanting something as simple as a kiss with such an intensity before.

She shoved at his chest and stumbled backwards, catching herself on the edge of the couch. His head was spinning from the whiplash as he watched her catch her breath moving as far away from him as the couch would allow.

“No kissing the clients,” she finally spoke after a few beats of heavy breathing.

“No? Just everything else?” He joked a little, trying to recover his own breathing and will his raging erection to go away. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she started clipping the corset back on.

He stood and slid back into his leather jacket and vest, slicking his hair back which had gotten a little disheveled when she played with it earlier. Then she awkwardly put her hand out and he remembered what he had promised her for such a nice private dance and handed her three hundred, “That’s some technique for your first time.”

“I’m a quick learner,” she nodded, gripping the cash like he was going to snatch it back from her and run. She led him back out into the main room without so much as looking at him and then ran back to the locker rooms, still a little unsteady as his eyes followed her out.

“I’ve been waiting out here for nearly a half hour,” complained Henry, getting up from the bar when he saw Gator. He barely understood the words, too busy thinking about how there was no way in hell he could wait another two weeks to see her again. She gave him a high he knew he’d be hooked on until the day he died. He figured he’d be a married man and still jerk off to her.

“Boy! You hear me? When your daddy hears about you fucking around--” Henry started to threaten, finally pulling Gator’s attention away from the girl. The shove of the white envelope into Henry’s chest cut him off.

“My daddy ain’t gonna hear about it, unless you want me burning this money up and telling him you fucking backward ass hillbillies lost it,” he said it softly with a half smile, contrasting the shouting of the older man who got even angrier as he lost his power.

“We’ll see about that. Don’t make me wait while you’re getting your dick sucked. If you’re daddy don’t make you answer to him. I’ll make you answer to me. Understand, son?”

“Maybe if your wife was better at it you wouldn’t have had to wait so long,” Gator leaned into the man, his hand hovering over the gun in his thigh holster.

“Alright, your time's coming, boy. Your time’s coming.”

“Whatever you say, Henry,” Gator grinned at him, “I’ll see you later.” He waved himself out and hopped into his truck.

He reached for his vape in his pocket, taking a long drag reigniting the buzz in his head that was worked up in the back room of The Tender Trap. He was trying to remember the way her face looked when she moaned, but his memories weren’t coming out right. He needed to see her again. And soon enough he was hard again as he drove back to the Tillman Ranch. The road was lonely and dark that night as he started to touch himself.

[wroteclassicaly]

can you do fireworks with...well I was going to way Gator but Steve also works if Gator is off the board.

Warnings: Language, friends to lovers, mentions of injury, Gator speaks a little rough towards reader, fluff, mentions masturbation, use of fireworks, alcohol, Gator being a dumb turtle boy, smut, and NSFW.

A/N: I had waaaaay too much fun with this one, so it’s obviously more than two paragraphs!

~*~

His headlights gave a too bright spotlight, causing him to trip over his own big ass feet, his zippo flying somewhere on the grass nearby. You snort at his antics, already flicking your bic to life and setting your sparkler ablaze. There’s an amber bottle of whiskey nearly gone, along with food wrappers and a blanket close by — courtesy of you, having stolen it off the end of Gator’s bed. You wave your stick around, dizzy off Jack Daniel’s and the buzz that being near your best-friend brings. Sharing one brain cell, the only person that can be around Gator Tillman full time (not without occasional headaches) — the town cannot separate you two. He drops to the ground, clearly irritated you got yours lit first.

“Hey,” you can’t help but to break in as he’s huffing between puffs on his vape, rifling through the grass with the other hand. He doesn’t look at you, but you continue. “Remember that time that you lit that fire rocket and accidentally sat on it? I swear I thought you broke your ass, man.”

Gator huffs in annoyance, clearly remembering what occurred just last year. You keep going. “I don’t know how you own a flame thrower and haven’t caught your junk or yourself on fire yet.”

“I am my junk, bitch!” He snaps, exasperated as you glares holes at you through the darkness.

The effects of heat coasting across the night breeze, crickets in the distance, and how the trees catch the rustling winds — it’s actually a nice ending to your day. You put your hands up, a snort leaving your mouth, especially right as you spot his lighter, reflected off his headlights. You motion to it with your sparkler, and he immediately grabs it, rolling his eyes. He paces a slight distance, he’s kneeling, his khaki camp tight across his legs, black shirt stretched over his biceps, tattoo on display. Your mouth waters, every imaginable scenario coming into play.

It’s not unusual to think about him this way. Hell, whenever you with someone else, it’s not their face that you see. Your best-friend has been at the end of every single orgasm you’ve had since meeting the shithead. You’re broken from your Gator-lusting reverie when his hand cracks the zippo to life, igniting the fireworks, crackling noises exploding and a fountain of colors explode into the air. Gator struts in front of them towards you in that way, hair strands blown into a disarray, hues of bright blues, golds, reds, pinks, and deep crimson lighting up the night sky behind him.

It’s a sight straight from a movie, and you don’t realize your sparkler has gone out. But it doesn’t matter, not as Gator clings to your energy and finds you chest to chest, tossing the stick from your hand. Your back is colliding with his truck in a vertigo-washed movement. He cradles your face, his breath soaked in jack, chew, and vape juice. It’s a big deal, but it’s also just two people meeting in ways that were always going to happen.

His nose bridge drags along your own as he pants the words across your mouth. “I’ve got rubbers in my glove box, babydoll. You gonna let me fuck you tonight? Teasing my cock so much, n’ you know it, too.”

“On the blanket…” you’re pawing at his shirt collar and he just shakes his head.

“Turn around and put your hands on my hood. You want me, you’re gonna take it the way that I give it to you.”

You’re immediately obeying, sky above faded out with streams of vibrant colors, smoke cloud wafting in this direction. He’s back after retrieving the items. It doesn’t take long…

~*~

He’d watched you touch yourself from behind, your jeans and thong on the ground below, as he slowly jerked himself off, enough until he’d achingly slid into the condom and spun you around. As much as he craved you in this position, he needed to see your face this first time, more than anything. He laid you upon the blanket, lifting your legs around his hips, and slid into you in one deep thrust, one you’d be feeling for days. You held tightly, groaning, whimpering pathetically into one another’s mouths. Your hands held a new, possessive purchase by digging into the plush of his bare ass, pushing him deeper.

He didn’t go home that night, and he didn’t take you home. But he did attempt to light another firework and you had driven him to the hospital to get his hand wrapped. Dumbass.

[spring-vibes-only]

They could never make me hate you Mrs tillman

[lesbiangiratina]

Yknow i was worried these scans would go under the radar of people off tumblr and that made me sad but i think its ok. My seo.

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Hi friends!

I'm finally starting to feel like myself once again! And I'm finally starting to work on fics.

Badge Bunny and King of Hearts will be the first things that I get updated for you!

I've got a few things in the works behind the scenes as well, including a Vampire Steve series for Halloween and a Gator mini series!

Thanks for your patience and understanding! Sometimes life gets a little crazy.

Much love! JoJo ❤️❤️❤️

[transmasczappa]

From Guilty Gear XX Yonkoma Kings: Volume 1 - via archive.org

[joekeerysmoles]

Gator got boo-boo

[heystevenn]

you make heaven a place on earth ♪

[adelacreations]

Billy fans, lean me your ears! Even if you dislike Gator Tillman on GOD let's gatekeep him from the Billy antis cause I'm going to actually go feral if I witness another one loving Gator and hating Billy and Dacre

[roanniom]

Watching Fargo Season 5 with my parents

Me: Look! That’s Joe Keery! The guy who plays Steve Harrington in Stranger Things.

Mom: Where?

Me: Right there. In the vest.

Mom: Oh no.

Me: What do you mean ‘no’? That’s him.

Mom: I mean oh no, he really needs all the hair he usually has.

[wroteclassicaly]

i’m here dw <3 i’ve been thinking of the idea of him fucking you and interrogating you hehe. “you wanna cum? you better answer my fuckin’ questions first.” taking total and complete control over you when you’re being difficult is sooooo 💫🫶🏻 He -han

Mr. Tillman loves him some bondage. 🥵

Also… I’m sorry that this took on a mind of its own, and I gave some Headcanons/backstory, that we don’t have yet. I do know Roy is most likely Gator’s dad, because his name is listed as Roy Tillman, so I’m assuming? 😭

Warnings: Language, bondage, edging, possessive Gator, vaginal sex, and use of a sex toy!

~*~

If you told yourself that you never thought about what Gator would, or could do to you with the plethora of binds he kept on him (or in that rust bucket he called a pick-up) — you’d be the biggest liar in the whole entire Midwest. Asking didn’t seem like an option to you, and you weren’t sure if Gator would a) use those specific things on you, or b) think you could handle them. You weren’t the type of girl that he usually took home to bed and be rid of. When you started sleeping together it surprised everyone in town, because let’s face it, word travels when a Tillman is involved in even a spill on aisle twelve. The whispers were more aimed at you, the quiet little mouse that ran the town’s one and only library, and resided on the edge of poverty.

Your grandparent’s lived and died in a trailer, and your dad left with his high-school sweetheart. Your mom had scurried out of town and went further into the country, residing on a farm with her flavor of the last few years. You’d known the Tillman’s since you were born, school mates with Gator, your grandfather working for the city with Roy’s father. It was a weird cycle, things often happening that you didn’t want involved in. So you opted to stay in town in your upstairs studio — charmed by it’s exposed pipes and original hardwood floors — rough, but yours.

Your work was a flight of stairs and down the street — away. You’d pass your favorite diner and the station, both of which Gator always routined in the morning, similar to your own schedule. More often than not, you’d see him clambering from his merlot colored 1948 Ford pickup. He never shut up about restoring the thing, much to Roy’s constant dismay.

“Buy a new one, boy. Waste of time.”

Gator added that to his many blissful defiances towards his father. Ones that could be overlooked. He knew better than to tow the line on the bigger things, even if he was ‘Sheriff’. Still, Gator Tillman did whatever job he was presented with, and he did it well. It followed on the spurs of a roughened elegance, like a soft spicy cologne, the leather of his combat boots, that thick gel he laid his chestnut tresses back with, or the beard burns he decorated along your thighs.

The morning that started it all, is when you’d had some continuous issues with idiot kids breaking into the return box and busting it into dents. Was it a big deal? Not really. But you weren’t about to lose your shitty minimum wage job for childish theatrics, all because your manager was a tight wad, and the town hall was in Roy’s back pocket, unwilling to let funds go for things that weren’t firearms. You hadn’t unlocked the box for returns, and you heard the kids throwing rocks, ramming it with the tires of their bikes —sheer boredom on a summer morning.

Gator was already out there, leaned over the top of a neon green set of handlebars, palm clasped on the pre-teen’s shoulder, shaking his head. The kid was pale, holding up his hands in apology, and turning towards you with glossy eyes. A quiet ‘M’ sorry, M’am.” Had tumbled off his lips. If they hadn’t continuously caused so much damage, you would’ve felt bad for him.

As he rode off into that crisp morning air, you’d turned, only to find the sun illuminating Gator’s enriching chocolate eyes, irises scattered with shards of mossy green and embers of golden flecks, his caramel colored hair slicked back until it looked darker than its natural shade — shining, freckles splattered all over his face and neck, a glimpse of his gold chain peeking out from his navy blue t-shirt, his vest tossed over his loose jean jacket, with his look completed by his thigh holster and weapon — strapped to his gray and black camouflage cargo pants. He drank in your reaction like a man dying of thirst. And the rest became one for the small town history books.

~*~

“Gator, just… fucking… PLEASE —“

A hand that is tainted with the musk of your own arousal, it lays flat over your mouth, his chain dipping between the valley of your perspired-drenched breasts, a brutal thrust delivered. His stubble formed beard, it scratches at your earlobe, his lips whispering out in a tone of mocking. “Didn’t I tell you not to talk unless you have answers for me?”

You mumble against his hand and he reaches back over with a free set of digits, snatching your wand off the table and pressing it back onto your clit. “What’s that, sweetheart? Was that a confession or another mouthy mistake?”

Tears soak your lash line, your cunt dousing him with new waves of cream each time he gives another push. He smirks, eyes blown and receptive, features a lit with mirth. He loves you not giving it up as much as he’s giving it to you. This… interrogation became more than his jealousy. A fun little game that he knew would also test his sanity not to claim you outwardly.

His spit-slick hand leaves your mouth, the vibrator being pulled off as you start to buck into his pelvis. You whine loudly, panting, his hand slapping above up into your bed frame, caging you in beside your cuffed wrists. You’re dripping down his balls and your ass, out of your fucking mind with raw need. You’ll say anything he wants, at this point. His calloused thumb-pad hovers over your clit, lips puffing out another questioning demand. “I asked you who he was and why he thought it was okay to act like your little hero, huh? He sniffin’ around you, wanting to hike up his leg for a piece of territory?”

“I need you, Gator! I want —“

His thumb grazes your clit and presses down… hard, leaving a painful ache snapping inside of your belly, but not enough to give you what you need, simply just encourage its flames. You tighten around him and he pulls out some, shaking his head. “Don’t care what you want. He’s playin’ on my turf, with my bitch. And she’s already been claimed.”

You attempt to twist your hips, but he rises onto his knees, hairy thighs pressed into the underside of your own. He’s in your face again, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “You wanna cum? You better answer my fuckin’ questions first!”

[fjmarchive]

i love you, honeybear rares compilation drive

hello! because @profoundobjecttragedy reminded me i said i was going to do this, I finally created my honeybear rares folder. list of contents of drive folder are under cut. feel free to make copies of anything, but I do plan to update the unreleased folder later. xoxo

edit 9/21: added all of live at rough trade to the live at rough trade folder (2015 live album to promote ilyhb, limited 500 release), blank space cover, welcome to new york cover, and heart shaped box cover to the unreleased material (2014-2016) folder (blank space + wtny were to make fun of ryan adams; exclusively posted on soundcloud then removed, heart shaped box was covered on sirius xmu during the ilyhb promo tour).

I Luv You HB Demos:

I Luv You Honeybear demo

Chateau/First Time demo

True Affection demo

Smiling/Astride Me demo

Strange Encounter demo

Holy Shit/"Past is a Nightmare I'm Trying to Wake Up From" demo

Bored in the USA demo

(I) Went to the Store (One Day) demo

Nobody's Nixon (Cass McCombs cover)

Honeybear Instrumentals (missing store):

I Love You, Honeybear instrumental

Chateau Lobby instrumental

True Affection instrumental

The Night Josh Tillman Came to Our Apartment instrumental

When You're Smiling and Astride me instrumental

Thirsty Crow instrumental

Strange Encounter instrumental

Ideal Husband instrumental

Bored in the USA instrumental

Holy Shit instrumental

I Love You, MIDIbear:

I Love You, Midibear

Chateau Lobby #4 (in C for Two MIDIs)

MIDI Affection

The Night Midi Came To Our Apartment

When You're Smiling and Astride MIDI

Nothing Good Ever Happens at the Goddamn MIDI Crow

MIDI Encounter

The MIDI Apartment

Bored in the MIDI

Holy MIDI

I Went To The MIDI One Day

I Loved You, Honeybee: (2015 rsd heart-shaped vinyl exclusive, track 1 is ilyhb without the drums, track 2 is an ilyhb b-side)

I Loved You, Honeybee

I've Never Been a Woman

Live at Rough Trade: (2015 vinyl release, limited to 500 copies, contains one of the few official "learning to love the war" live recordings)

I Love You, Honeybear

The Night Josh Tillman Came to our Apartment

Chateau Lobby #4

Thirsty Crow

Bored in the USA

Holy Shit

Now I'm Learning to Love the War

I Went to the Store One Day

Unreleased Material (2013-2016):

Come to Mama (Demo)

Blank Space (Cover)

Welcome to New York (Cover)

Heart Shaped Box (Cover)

[kiscasual]

every day i open tumblr and immediately check my favorite tags bc my men dont get written abt enough and when they do my day becomes infinitely better