shortbread or lauren: she/her, 19, shit blog, my current obsession is all things Joe Keery, Joe Characters and Djo. nswf all the time, angst and fluff part time. come be horny with me!
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currently at the airport the next morning and while i’m in line at tsa they announce over the speakers “joseph keery, please come back to TSA. you have left your passport here”
Your boyfriend Travis loves your cooking, but he loves you more.
pairing: travis meacham x curvy/chubby!reader
words: 2.5k
contains: (18+ smut!! minors dni) chubby/curvy!reader, porn with almost no plot, fingering, oral (fem receiving), munch teacake, dirty talk, pet names (baby, honey), established relationship, female reader, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns for reader
author's note: credit to the lovely @notmily for the headcanon idea, this turned out to be a lil longer than a baby blurb but are we surprised?
to be added to my 18+ taglist | masterlist | requests page
Travis Meacham knew you were the one the first time you made him that delicious, creamy tomato pasta of yours..
You had only been seeing each other for a few weeks at that point and you had kindly offered to make him dinner before he had to leave your apartment for his night shift. Considering that Travis had been in prison for much of his late teens and early twenties, he had never really learned how to cook properly. The only meal he really made for himself these days was a grilled cheese sandwich.
And so, when you had placed down a bowl of the creamiest, tomato pasta he had ever laid his eyes on in front of him, he knew you were a keeper. It had then only taken a few mouthfuls for him to declare it the best meal he had ever had.
After that, Travis couldn’t help but watch you whenever you cooked for him. He loved watching you hum to yourself as you cut peppers or how you would sway those hips of yours to the beat of whatever song was playing on the radio. And when you’d dance while waiting for the pasta to boil? Well—Travis couldn’t help himself. You were fucking irresistible.
“Looking good, baby,” Travis tells you, his arms wrapping around you from behind as you stood at the stove, stirring some cream into the pasta you were making for dinner.
“Thanks,” you say with a smile as you lean back into him, warmth spreading through you as he leans down to press kisses along the skin of your neck, gently brushing your hair aside to do so. “I added used a different seasoning this time and I wasn't sure if—"
"—wasn't on about the pasta, honey," he murmurs against your neck, the sensation of his lips brushing over your skin sending a shot of warmth straight to your core.
"Tea," you scold him gently, though making absolutely no attempt to pull away from him. "Dinner is almost—"
But you're cut off by your own gasp as Travis presses his hips forward, letting you feel the undeniable evidence of his arousal against your ass.
"Dinner can wait," he hums, his large hands moving to the swell of your hips and giving them a squeeze before he spins you around to face him.
You should scold him again, you should tell him that dinner was nearly ready and that he could until after but one look at your boyfriend's face and you couldn't find it in yourself to resist him.
Travis seems to know it too, judging by the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Want somethin' a little sweeter for starters," he murmurs, lifting a hand to cup one side of your face before he leans in to capture your lips in a kiss that makes your core ache. Your lips part on instinct, all thoughts about the sauce shimmering away behind you replaced by only ones about the man who was currently kissing you as though he was starving.
You feel one of Travis' hands lift from hips, feel him reach behind you to switch off the stove but you find yourself no longer caring about dinner as the wet heat of his tongue licks into your mouth and causes a syrupy warmth to spread right down to your gut.
Travis' hands settle back on the swell of your hips, unable to stop himself from groaning against your mouth as he feels your curves beneath his palms. He couldn’t help himself because, to put it lightly, Travis Meacham was fucking obsessed with your body. He loved your curves, loved the softness of your stomach, the thickness of your thighs and the feeling of your breasts pressed against him. And so, it was no wonder that you soon felt your boyfriend’s large, rough hands smooth over your hips before he reached the fat globes of your ass, squeezing them over your skirt and coaxing a soft moan from your mouth.
“Fuck,” Travis murmurs against your mouth before he pulls away to press wet kisses over the skin of your neck, his tongue gliding across the flesh and causing heat to surge through your body, making your pussy throb in anticipation. “You feel fuckin’ incredible, baby. Like a damn fuckin’ dream with these curves. So perfect.”
Your response came in the form of another breathless moan, the sound making Travis grin against you as he began to walk you backwards, towards the table that he had set for dinner only a few minutes prior. You let him, tilting your head back and letting him explore the expanse of your throat with his mouth as the backs of your thighs hit the wooden table.
“Tea—” you begin, your lips parted and wet with spit as you look back at Travis. Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt as you try to control yourself, despite the fact that you could feel wetness already pooling between your legs.
Travis hums by way of a reply, his lips still moving over the skin of your neck and leaving goosebumps in their wake. Heat surges through your body, burning in your veins and leaving your gut feeling as though it was made of goo.
“What about din—”
You don’t get to finish your sentence, not when Travis’ large hands wrap themselves around the backs of your thighs and he lifts you up onto the dinner table.
“—what about dinner?” Travis finishes for you with a smile that was anything but innocent, one of his hands beginning to lift the skirt of your dress over your hips, the material bunching up around your waist and exposing your dampened panties to Travis as his other hand runs along the skin of your inner thigh. “Got my dinner right here.”
Heat swoops low in your stomach at his words and you couldn’t find it within yourself to be even remotely annoyed at him as his fingers dance along the skin of your thighs. You watch, your chest heaving as he drops down to his knees between your legs, his large hands coaxing your thighs further apart on the table, his big brown eyes fixed on the damp patch in your panties, unable to stop the low groan from leaving his lips at the evidence of your arousal.
“This,” he murmurs, his breath hot and hitting the skin of your inner thigh, causing you to shudder beneath him, “is my favourite place in the whole fucking world.”
You let out a breathless sort of laugh, one that has Travis looking up at you with a dopey smile on his face. His fingers dig into the meaty flesh of your thighs, his cock feeling painfully hard as he gently massages the skin with his fingers because fuck, he loved your thighs. He loved how thick they were, how strong they were, loved the feeling of them wrapped around his waist as he pounded into you, loved the feeling of them squeezing his head between them as his tongue laps needily at your soaked cunt.
Travis leans in, breathing your heady scent through your panties and making your body thrum with want as his nose briefly nudges against your clothed clit.
“You smell delicious, baby,” he tells you, turning his head to press a wet, open mouthed kiss over one of your stretch marks, causing fresh heat to coil deep in your gut. You feel his fingers brush over the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, feel them move over your skin until they find the material of your panties and hooking them into the waistband.
“But Tea, the pasta—”
“—fuck the pasta,” Travis breathes against you as he begins to tug the lace down your thighs, exposing your glistening folds to him and making his mouth water at the sight of you practically dripping onto the wooden table beneath you. “I’m hungry for something else.”
You don’t get to breathe, you barely even get to catch your breath before Travis’ mouth seals itself over your aching cunt with a sound that was so desperate, so loud and so obscene that you felt it in every damn nerve in your body, pleasure blooming through you, burning like molten lava.
“Tea!” you gasp out, your hands flying to grab onto his bleach blonde wavy locks, needing something to hold onto as his tongue went straight to your swollen, puffy clit, circling your sensitive bud with the very tip of his tongue.
“Shhh, baby,” He murmurs against you, the slight vibration from his lips sending waves of pleasure through your body, “just lay back and lemme eat, yeah?”
All you could do was nod, your body falling back against the wooden table as your boyfriend’s mouth was back on you—his tongue broad and flat as it licked a stripe through your folds, parting them as he slurped up your slick messily before pressing his tongue into your needy hole.
You let out a sound that you couldn’t hold back even if you tried. A wanton moan mixed with words of utter nonsense fall from your lips as you tug at his hair—the feeling of him fucking you with his tongue causing your back to bow off the table, hips burying his face further into your pussy. Travis moans against you, one of his hands sliding beneath your ass, lifting you slightly off the table to get a better angle, his tongue thrusting deeper into you and making stars burst behind your eyes.
“Trav,” you gasp out, the nickname—the one that only you were allowed to call him—slips from your lips and makes Travis moan against you a second time.
Fuck, he loved it when you called him that. It made his cock twitch beneath his jeans, so fucking hard the it was almost painful. Seeing your body writhe beneath him, being between those delicious thick thighs of yours and the sweet taste of your pussy on his tongue—it had him aching and leaking beneath his jeans.
But he was too focused on you right now to even care about that.
“You close, honey?” Travis asks, pulls away for a moment to look up at you, his mouth glistening with with, saliva and your slick driving down to his chin.
You open your mouth to answer but the moment that you do, you feel two of Travis’ fingers suddenly gliding between your folds.
“I asked you a question, baby,” he hums, a teasing lilt to his voice as he begins to smear the mix of your slick and his saliva over your folds before pressing both of his thick fingers deep inside of you, your wetness allowing him to glide right in. “C’mon, be a good girl and answer me.”
You let out a whimper, one that you couldn’t control as Travis curls his fingers inside of you, pressing firmly against your front wall and making you mewl beneath him.
“Y-yes,” you gasp out, back arching off the table as you feel the coil deep in your gut tighten, feel your fingers tug at his hair again without your say so. “S-so close. Pl-please don’t stop, Trav.”
“Wouldn’t fucking dream of it,” Travis murmurs before his head dips back down to press kisses over the skin of your inner thigh, lips brushing over the stretch marks as he begins to pump his thick fingers in and out of you, dragging through your gummy walls as the schlick, schlick, schlick sounds from your soaked pussy fill the room. “Now, wrap those perfect fuckin’ thighs around me and squeeze. C’mon, baby. Need to feel you.”
You don’t need telling twice, not when he was diving right back in, his fingers still fucking into you as his tongue found your clit that was begging for his attention. You lift your hips, bringing your thighs up to press against the sides of his face, creating a pressure that had him moaning against your clit.
Travis presses his fingers deeper into you, his mouth now sucking at your clit messily and in absolute ecstasy at your thighs pressing against the sides of his head, the pressure making him feel dizzy with want because Travis was happy to admit that he was more than happy to be trapped between there for all eternity.
And you? You were writhing on the table beneath him, your fingers tugging at the dark roots of his hair as you tried to hold back. You were a mess. A complete and utter mess of moans and whimpers at the dual sensation of his mouth on your clit and his fingers that were pumping in and out of you. All you could hear was Travis moaning between your legs and the wet sounds coming from him sucking at your clit while fucking you with his fingers.
It was too much. It was too—
You came with a cry that was sure to make your neighbours complain, your thighs clamping around Travis’ head as you gush around his fingers.
Travis lets out a muffled moan of your name, his mouth still on you as he fingers continue to move gently in and out of you, riding out your orgasm while your thighs continue to tremble around him.
“Fuck,” he murmurs, pulling away only to catch his breath as you let your thighs rest over his shoulders. “You taste fuckin’ delicious baby.”
You were still trembling, still feeling pleasure coursing through your body from the intensity of your orgasm. Travis’ face swims into view above you as he smiles down at you, his face glistening with your arousal and looking so fucking gorgeous you felt your pussy clench around nothing.
“You good?” He asks you, lifting a hand to brush your hair away from your face and looking at you with such reverence that you can't help but smile up at him.
“M’great,” you murmur back quietly. “You distracted me from making dinner though.”
Travis laughs, a loud laugh that warms your insides and makes you feel lighter. He then slowly withdraws his fingers from you, his eyes flickering down to marvel at your slick that coats the digits before he lifts his hand to his mouth to lick them clean. Your pussy throbs at the sight of his tongue licking up your slick from his long fingers, at the way he was looking at you as he did so.
“Sorry,” he hums, not looking the slightest bit apologetic he withdraws his fingers from his mouth with a wet pop before he takes your hand to pull you into an upright position on the table. “Couldn’t resist. You were looking all sexy, y’know dancing around the kitchen like that. You know that I can’t resist you when you move your hips like that, baby.”
You roll your eyes but you can’t help but smile as you look back at him.
“You’re terrible.”
“Terribly in love with you.”
The corner of your mouth twitches as Travis leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“You can finish dinner now, baby, “ he murmurs against your skin before pulling away. “I might have to warn you though, I’m pretty full of you so I can’t promise that I’ll eat it all.”
steve harrington being the most emotionally intelligent character in the show but is also burdened by being a teenage boy in the 1980s who was never taught how to express his own emotions... sigh
Summary: stuck on a crawl during what has to be the hottest night of the summer, you convince Steve to pass the time. intended to be set in the tcogb universe between parts 5 and 6, but can be read as a standalone!
Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)
Content Warnings: explicit smut (m!receiving oral, fingering, p in v sex, f!receiving oral, cum eating kinda), established relationship
Word Count: 4k
The interior of the van was stifling in the summer heat. So hot you felt sweat dripping down your spine as you parked outside of the skeleton of StarCourt Mall.
A big Grand Reopening, Fall 1986 sign was on a board outside, faded and torn from the elements. It had never reopened, and maybe never would. You'd have to make it out on the other side to know for sure, but you did miss The Gap.
"Big area to search," you said, peering over at Steve. He was playing one of those dumb handheld baseball games, tongue poking out in concentration. "He could be in there all night, just going store to store."
Steve shook his head. "Nah, it wasn't built in '83," he said without so much as a glance up. "He's looking around the old farm that the Saunders' sold to the developers. Probably gonna get tetanus, or something worse. Some weird, burrowing alien bug that lays eggs in his stomach."
Your expression twisted in disgust. Summer movie nights at the house had meant far too many horror flicks for your taste. But every time you suggested Flashdance or A Chorus Line you got shut down. But Steve had started to love the scary movies that Dustin and Mike picked, even if he called them weird. It was increasingly obvious to you that Steve was a bit of a weirdo himself.
You sighed and sunk back in your seat. The Squawk was playing some of Jonathan's moody, new age bullshit, which made you want to take a nap. You were so bored you could die… or maybe just kill Dustin for getting detention again and finally getting his sweet mother to snap and ground him.
The air in the van was stifling, so you cranked down the window and leaned your head out. It was unbearable, even stripped down to the least amount of clothes you could legally wear. It didn't help that Steve was dressed down too, in a muscle tank he typically mowed the lawn in and cutoffs.
It was annoyingly appealing, especially with the sheen of sweat that made his biceps look even better under the dim streetlights. Most of them were broken, so the light in the van was dim. Dim enough that you could get away with nearly anything.
"Steve," you whined. "We've got, like, two hours before we have to drive back to the Squawk. Can't we do something to pass the time?"
He finally glanced over and gave you an almost sympathetic smile. "I told you it was going to be boring tonight, honey. You should've brought a book, or something. I came prepared."
A scoff escaped you and you inched closer, leaning back into the van. "Not my idea of a fun way to pass the time," you said. Maybe it was the heat, or just how handsome your boyfriend looked just a few feet away, but you felt the prickle of need warming your belly.
You flicked the radio, scanning the other stations. Sometimes, in the right spot, you could get a killer Top-40 station from Indianapolis, but everything else was too staticky. You dug around in the glove box for something better, but nothing caught your eye. With a dramatic sigh, you switched back to WSQK and sunk lower in your seat.
"Ughhhh…" You groaned, kicking your feet onto the dash. The heat was the sort of oppressive presence that made you get that ansty feeling. You needed something, anything, to distract you from the ever-present heat in the van. It felt like you were in an oven, slowly roasting alive.
He glanced over and his lips stretched into a fond smile. "It's a couple of hours of boredom, you're being such a baby."
You pouted and turned to face him. "It's hot, the music sucks, there's nothing to do… not even anything fun to look at." You gave a weak wave towards the abandoned mall, dark and gloomy in the summer night.
Well, there was something fun to look at, and it was Steve Harrington. His muscular thighs dusted with hair, the peek of his ribcage in his cutoff tank. His hair curled at the ends from the sweat and heat, and you thought you'd never seen him look any more attractive in your life.
You climbed out of your seat and settled on the floorboard beside him, grateful for the ample space in the van to do whatever you wanted. "What are you doing?" His voice was a little higher than usual as you eased his seat back and moved between his thighs.
"Passing the time," you replied simply. "No one's around, it'll be fine."
Steve gave a nervous laugh. "Yeah, I'm not worried about being caught, I'm worried about the crawl."
A shiver went through him as your hand traced its way up his thigh, barely dipping beneath the ragged hem of his shorts. His skin was so warm, tacky with the heat. You pouted as you pressed a kiss to the soft skin just beneath your fingers. "Nothing happened before, nothing's happening tonight, baby." You peered up at him as innocently as you could manage, given the circumstances. "If you want, you can stay focused for both of us."
"You're a bad influence," he groaned, and you had to bite back a smile as you popped the button of his shorts. He'd already begun to fill them out impressively, just with the insinuation that you were going to give him a little attention. "I mean, Jesus, out of the two of us you'd think I'd be the one begging to fuck you right now. I have… I have self control."
You nodded, expression as grave as you could manage. "So much self control, baby," you agreed as you tugged down his fly. "You're so responsible."
It was disgustingly hot outside, you were grossly horny. You couldn't care less about responsibility or the crawl. Maybe if anything ever happened that would be a problem, but you were just as likely to win the lottery as they were to find anything remotely useful in the upside down, or whatever.
Steve's fingers twisted into your hair as you tugged down his briefs enough to expose his length to you. A soft groan fell from his lips as you wrapped your hand around the base of him and let spit dribble down his shaft and over your fingers.
His head fell back against the seat as you set a slow rhythm, pumping him in your hand as he got even harder in your grip. It was rare that you could ever act on your basest impulses. There was always a need to keep quiet in the house, or a member of the party nearby, or a thousand other reasons you had to stay decent.
Crawl be damned. Nothing was as important as the soft groans that spilled from him as your tongue swirled around his tip. His hips bucked instinctively, seeking the warm, wet heat of your mouth.
So much for self control. You weren't in the mood to tease, so you gave in. Inch by inch, you took him deeper into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you swallowed him down. With a few months of practice, accommodating his size had gotten simpler. It wasn't easy, but your jaw didn't ache and your eyes didn't water as much before your lips met the top of your fist.
"Jesus christ, baby," Steve groaned. You practically purred around him, watching him through hooded eyes as you set your rhythm. He was so pretty when he was undone like this— veins bulging in his throat as he swallowed down pretty moans. A force of habit. "Your mouth feels so fucking perfect."
The grip he had on your hair tightened as you took him deeper, throat squeezing around his tip as you fought a persistent gag reflex. You could taste salty precum on your tongue, dribbling out onto your palate with each bob of your head.
You'd long since bubbled over from a bored horniness to sheer need. It was obvious in the warm, sticky way the gusset of your panties clung to your aching pussy. The dull, empty throb between your thighs each time you swallowed down his length and were met with the sound of his moans.
You pulled off of him and he nearly whined in response. "C'mon, climb into the back with me," you said with a pretty grin. He glanced at the walkie, then back at the telemetry tracker that was holding steady with the close proximity to Hopper. You squeezed his hand and gave him your best puppy dog eyes. "Steve, nothing is going to happen."
And how could he resist when you wanted it so badly? And when you'd left him right on the edge of release? He mumbled something about you being a bad influence as you climbed past the front seats and settled into the carpeted back of the van. He tossed his shirt into the passenger's side floorboard and you relished in the exposed skin. You untied your shorts and shimmied the gray cotton down your thighs, and your body thanked you for one less layer.
When he pushed past the front seats and pinned you onto the carpet, you smiled up at him like the cat who got the cream. It was even hotter back here— stale, stuffy air that smelled like old paper and wood and wires. But you wouldn't have cared where you were, just that Steve was there with you.
His hand moved up, sliding under the thin cotton tank top you wore to grope at your bare tit. You mewled softly at the attention, arching into his touch eagerly. "Needy," he murmured, mouthing at the side of your throat. "Can't even wait an hour to get home."
You huffed softly, shivering as his tongue licked up the side of your throat. It wasn't just an hour, it was debriefing that they'd discovered literally nothing for an hour, then extrapolating meaning based on what they thought finding nothing meant for what felt like even longer, then finally, going home. But going home meant putting Sam to bed, then getting yourselves ready for bed, and then being so exhausted that you had no energy for anything else.
So, no, you couldn't wait the hour. And, luckily, you knew Steve was far past that point too. The hand that had slipped up your shirt moved lower— hot and heavy beneath the elastic of your panties. A soft whine escaped your lips as his fingertips brushed over your clit, swollen and aching for attention.
Just that little bit of attention felt like heaven. He gave in for just a second, circling the pads of his fingers around the bud once, twice, before they moved lower, where you were dripping with need.
"Holy shit," he groaned, pulling back to meet your gaze. His pupils had swallowed up the soft brown of his iris with pure lust. "Fuck, you're soaked. Bet I could just…" You cried out as he sunk his middle finger in, walls fluttering around the welcome intrusion. "That's it. So ready for me, aren't you?"
You nodded, and you felt your face get hot when you realized you were grinding down against his hand. You really were desperate. Your back arched towards him as he slid a second finger alongside the first, filling your aching cunt like you'd been dreaming of from the minute he had parked.
"Steve," you gasped, toes curling against your sandals. You reached out, grasping onto his bicep as he curled his fingers and made you moan wantonly.
Sometimes you embarrassed yourself by how much he could effect you. That he could make you scream for him only with his fingers, or make you drip down your thighs with need. That he could even make you enjoy blowing him so much that it always managed to set every nerve alight like a livewire.
Even then, as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, the lewd squelch made your face burn. "'M not taking care of my girl enough," he murmured against your jaw. "If you're this desperate, I need to give her a little more love, yeah?"
The wet kiss he planted on your jaw was almost sweet, contrasted by the stretch of a third finger pressing inside. Your eyes rolled back, showing off the whites of them as he worked you open.
It wasn't that he didn't touch you enough— he touched you plenty. It was that nothing ever seemed to be enough. Both of you were constantly filled with an insatiable need for one another that you too-rarely got to feed.
But then, with his fingers buried inside of you, a thumb on your clit, and his mouth on your throat, it felt like enough. A shaky moan fell from your lips as you clenched around his fingers, your release so close you could taste it.
"C'mon, you're the one who wanted this." His words rumbled against your throat, and you felt your walls squeezing around his fingers as he fucked you with them. "Cum for me first, then I'll give you what you really want."
He said it like it was that easy, because he knew it was. Steve knew your body, and he knew exactly how to touch you in order to make you cum. He told you once that he thought it would be a waste to have someone so perfect in his bed if he wasn't going to put in the work to learn exactly what she needed.
And learn he did. A string of moans escaped your lips as you came for him, overcome with the pleasure he pulled from you. It felt like a wave of liquid pleasure through your veins, washing over you head to toe, but leaving you wanting more as it receded.
Your cunt spasmed around his fingers, twitching with aftershocks as he pulled them from you nice and slow. In the low light, you could see your juices drenching his fingers as he moved them between his lips, tasting your release from them. Even after months of being with him, it still made your stomach flip sheepishly.
He sat up and tapped your thigh with a grin. "Open up for me. I'm gonna give you more."
You nearly shivered with anticipation as you let your thighs fall open to accommodate him. You watched him tug down his shorts and kick them elsewhere, until he was bare before you. You propped yourself up and let your hands trace the soft expanse of his chest and his stomach.
"You're being bossy now," you said with a coy grin. "What happened to me being irresponsible? Don't you want to check in on the walkie and make sure everything's all good?"
Steve rolled his eyes and pushed you back onto the carpeted floor. "Shut up." His fingers hooked beneath the waistband of your panties and tugged them down your thighs, so you could kick them off the rest of the way.
Your legs wrapped around his hips as soon as he positioned himself between your thighs. Muscle memory. A soft gasp was punched from your lungs as you felt him position the blunt head of his cock at your entrance.
It was always a stretch. A slow, delicious stretch as he sank inside of you. He was so thick and perfect, and you relished in the slow accommodation of your body to fit him. Your toes curled when he fully sheathed himself inside of you, and you gasped softly as he gave his hips a slow roll.
"This is what you wanted, right?" He panted in your ear. "So whiny. Don't I always give you what you need?" He pulled out just to drive back in deeper, punching a shaky moan from your lips.
The van's suspension was shitty— squeaking and rocking as he began to fuck you in earnest. It would have made you giggle if you could have focused on anything except the euphoric drag of his cock against your oversensitive walls.
"Oh my god," you gasped, eyes fluttering as he found a rhythm that made your body sing. Heat built in your tummy, fluttering as he drove into you again and again. Sweat clung to both of you like a second skin, dripping onto you from the tip of his nose and the cut of his jaw. "Fuck, Steve."
He grinned, dipping down to kiss you sloppily as he fucked into you. His own moans vibrated against your tongue, making you shiver under him despite the incessant heat.
His hand crept down, wrapping around your thigh and shifting it up towards your chest. A desperate cry fell from your lips as he drove deeper still, burying himself so deep that you saw stars.
"So perfect," he mumbled against your mouth. His half-lidded eyes bore into yours, watching every gasp and flutter of your eyes as he brought you closer and closer to the edge with each stroke.
The coarse hair at the base of him rubbed against your oversensitive clit with each thrust, which only made that molten need in your core grow. One hand dug into his shoulder and dug crescents into the slick skin there.
"Gonna cum," you panted, already beginning to flutter around his length. You cried out, head thrown back as he drove deeper, grinding into your spasming cunt the way he knew would push you over the edge. In the van, in the middle of nowhere, you could be as loud as you wanted, which you were taking full advantage of.
"Yeah? Give it to me," he panted. "Let me feel it."
And how could you deny him that? With a shaky cry, you felt your orgasm rip through you, so strong that your body writhed beneath him. Your walls squeezed around his cock as he worked you through it, fucking into your soaked cunt with sounds so obscene that you felt your tummy flip.
"Hear that? Hear what I do to you?" He moaned into your ear and you whined softly in response. His thrusts grew needier, more urgent, even as you ached with overstimulation. "God, I love you so much."
He pulled out suddenly and spilled onto your pussy and thighs, painting your sweaty skin with hot ropes of his cum. He groaned, swearing under his breath as he worked himself through it with his hand.
You sat up, biting your lip as he slumped over on his side and looked at you. Your body had a heavy, sated feeling, like your orgasm had managed to relax you down to your very depths. A tiny giggle escaped you as you nudged him with your foot.
"Happy now?" Steve teased, leaning down to kiss your shoulder.
"Very, very happy. Not bored at all," you replied.
Steve sighed and stretched to work out a kink in his shoulders. When his gaze fell on the mess he'd left on your stomach, he looked back at you with a frown. "Looks like I need to clean up after myself."
Despite your exhaustion, you found yourself opening yourself up to accommodate his broad shoulders. He hooked your legs over his shoulders and kissed the soft skin of your inner thigh. The second his tongue laved over your cunt, your leg twitched involuntarily, and he pulled a pathetic, keening whimper from you.
It felt like pure electricity running along your nerves with each lap of his tongue. His lips sealed around your clit and he sucked gently, like he knew your body was at his limit and he needed to handle you with care. Your fingers tangled in his hair and the carpet of the van as he licked at you.
"Steve," you gasped, nearly sobbing with the intensity of his mouth on your clit. "F— oh fuck, Steve—"
Your back arched off the floor of the van, hips involuntarily grinding up against his hot mouth, pushing through the overstimulation and into pure pleasure.
A siren outside the van made you freeze, thighs tensing on either side of Steve's head. His mouth continued to move, deaf to anything that wasn't the pretty sounds he could pull from you. But the sirens got closer and closer, until red and blue flashing lights illuminated the inside of the car.
"Shit, Steve, stop," you yelped, kicking him off of you. The cruiser parked directly in front of the van, shining its brights into the van so the two of you were illuminated and completely exposed. Steve scrambled to do something to cover you up. You scrambled to tug your dolphin shorts back on and readjusted your tank top. Steve, in a remarkably more vulnerable spot, settled on holding a spare WSQK crewneck over his hips hips and hiding in the back while you crawled into the drivers seat.
Phil Callahan tapped on the window with his flashlight and you pulled your wits together as you reached over to crank the glass down.
"Hi! Hey, Phil," you said with a pretty smile. Your hair stuck to your forehead, tacky with sweat. The rest of it was a rats nest. "It's um, it's been a while. How's Shiloh?"
"Yeah, y'know, she's getting older. I had to build her a little ramp to get on and off the couch," he said with a shrug. You nodded and frowned, oozing sympathy. "Anyways, she's still got a lot to live for, y'know"
You gave a tight smile and nodded again. "Yeah… yeah, of course she does. Who doesn't love a dachshund?" It got uncomfortably quiet, so you nervously cleared your throat. "Anyways, um, is this a warning type of situation? It's just, y'know, there's no one around so we really didn't think we were hurting anyone."
His expression wrinkled a bit. "Isn't it weird to hook up where, like, thirty people died?"
When you thought about it for a second, you kind of got his point. "Um… yeah, that's so fair," you agreed. "But, y'know… lesson learned, right?" You gave another pretty smile, willing all of your teenage charm to return to you and help weasel your way out of this. You were always glad when Phil was the one to catch you, Carol, and Tina when you ditched a house party, it was so easy to talk him out of any real trouble.
He leaned onto the van for a second and sighed. "I dunno, there's the military curfew, and this is private property. Plus public indecency, indecent exposure for Harrington."
You gave your best pout and met his gaze. "Phil… isn't that, like, a lot of paperwork for two people hooking up in a car? Can't you just give us a warning and send us on our way? I'd really, really owe you one."
He sighed, glancing back at a very naked Steve who was doing a terrible job of covering himself with just a crewneck. "Put some clothes on and get home. Next time I catch either of you parked somewhere, I'm taking you in."
You weren't entirely sure he meant it, but you nodded earnestly and watched him head back to the cruiser. When the lights disappeared, you glanced back at Steve with a sheepish grin.
"How do you know about Deputy Callahan's dachshund?" Steve asked as he tugged his clothes back on.
"Summer after senior year, he hauled me and Tina into the station for underage drinking. I thought he was cute so I flirted with him for a couple of hours until he let us go. He's a talker," you replied. "You kinda look alike, actually. Especially with your glasses on…"
Steve rolled his eyes. "Shut up. And never mention this to anyone, or they'll never let you go on a crawl with me again."
In a few hours, you'd find out that the party listened to police scanners, and Phil Callahan was still a talker. But for the moment, you mimed zipping your lips shut and propped your feet back on the dash. Steve went back to his baseball game, and you relished in the dull, satisfying ache between your thighs.
In 2018, I wrote down a passing thought in my cheap little leather-bound journal I was writing a collection of songs in that would go on to become Preacher’s Daughter. “If I finish this album the way it needs to be finished, it will change my life, and it will leave a hole in my heart for years that I won’t know how to fill.” I’ve always had a knack for eerily accurate self-premonition. Preacher’s Daughter certainly left a hole, and it certainly changed my life, but only on the outside. All the songs I wrote for it were about characters, a girl in a “faraway” place living her “faraway” life, albeit still parallel to mine, but wholly detached from me. Willoughby was doomed to be closer to home. I wrote Nettles and Waco the same week, the first week I spent in the Alabama house where I would finish Preacher’s Daughter after so many years of trying. The difference was I wrote them about me. There were no characters at first; it was just me. In fact, I wrote them in an attempt to hide from Ethel Cain for a moment. She eventually devoured those little ditties too, of course, as she always does. In hindsight, I’m glad I had to share them with her. I couldn’t have carried the full weight of them myself, I know that now. My premonitions were out in full force; over the course of the next few years, I’d script out my own life in the same morbid fashion I always have. Maybe it was a lesson in not training my eye downward as I’ve spent the majority of my life doing.
I had 3 weeks for the holidays between mixing and submitting Perverts and jumping back into the maw of taming an unfinished Willoughby Tucker. I spent the first three months of 2025 on probation, unable to go much of anywhere, awake only when the sun was down. I’d never mixed a record of that magnitude, which was daunting with deadlines immovable. I remember 9am on my 27th birthday rolling around after being awake for hours whittling away at mixes, announcing the album and entire tour before going back to mix an album that still wasn’t done. I’ve never cried so much finishing a record, and that was before it was even out. Combining your Saturn return, your first shot at true love, and the longest tour of your life is something I would never recommend to anyone. It was the death of both ego and everything around it. I couldn’t be more grateful. Never in my life have I been so turned inside out, so uprooted and unraveled. Looking back, I needed it more than anything.
Thank you to everyone who listened. Ethel Cain and Willoughby Tucker will always be my children, my burnt offerings, what I leave in the storm. Sometimes I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but I also fear it’s the only way. Ethel Cain, Willoughby Tucker, I really will always love you. I feel as though in this moment here, saying goodbye, you and I are closer than ever. I hope you can forgive me.
Six long months you'd shared an apartment with Gator, When you first met him you thought being as he was a deputy that he'd be the perfect person to share with. You'd always feel protected, He had to be some type of good person surely. God how wrong you were.
He left his dirty clothes on the bathroom floor when the hamper was right in the room, He left his dirty plates where ever he was sat when he was eating, He didn't seem to understand what a bin was leaving his cans scattered around the room for you to run around and collect.
But truthfully you could deal with all of that, the constant smell that lingered in the apartment of his strawberry vape. That same vape that when you accepted his offer to move in he promised he wouldn't do inside the apartment. The way he left his dirty socks tucked into the side of the sofa when he took them off after work that you'd find when you lay down to watch tv, The stupid smirk on his face whenever you told him to clean up after himself, the selfishness of him when he’d come home with take out for himself even though you always bought enough for the two of you.
But all of those things could be forgotten, not because they weren’t the worst but because the sounds that came from his room every night couldn’t be. The worst part of it all? He didn’t even have anyone with him, in fact he never did. Since you’d moved in together not a single woman had came home with him. It might be easier to let slide if that was the case, you’d brought your fair share of men home and he’d never mentioned anything about it. He’d just disappear to his room and you’d have to fuck to the loud sound of metal music shaking the walls.
~
You lay in bed, Peacefully drifting off to sleep after a particularly long day at work when you heard the front door slam shut. You groaned grabbing a pillow to place over your face knowing his routine well enough by now that in the next few minutes he would start banging around in the kitchen making food, leaving a mess you’d have to clean up in the morning before leaving for work.
You climbed out of your bed throwing on an oversized T-shirt before swinging your door open, walking down the hall to find him.
“Gator?”
The sound of something hitting the floor startled you, making your way around the corner until you spot him standing over a box of spilled paper work on the floor.
“Fuckin hell woman! Fuckin scared the life outta me!”
You stared at him for a moment before your eyes moved down to the paper work, the way his big hands were tying to pile it all back together.
"Ya cant see any of this, Go back in yer room" You knew he wasn't being awkward, That it was all probably confidential stuff but you needed to try and get through to him.
"Can you be quiet tonight?" You asked as you placed your hands on your hips, eyes wide as you stared down at him.
“No idea what yer on bout” Gators eyes moved up to meet yours, paper work forgotten as a smirk pressed to his lips.
“Banging around here? I’ve been working all day and I’ll be working all day tomorrow I need some form of rest” you exhale smoothing your shirt down that was just grazing your thighs, quickly realising that if he leaned forward he’d be able to see right up it from the position he was in.
“Sounds like a you problem little lady” he shrugged quickly moving back to the paper work on the floor, not happy with his childish attitude once again you push your foot down into the paper on the floor so he can’t grab it.
“Be quiet” you hissed crouching down so you were eye level with him, the smirk on Gators face quickly changing to a grin as you stared at him “or next time you’ve worked a late, I’ll return the favour”
“Oh yeah?” Gator laughed “what ya gonna do?” His tone was teasing but you could tell he was trying to intimidate you, just like he always did but there was nothing intimidating about Gator Tillman. A big man who liked to think he called the shots, thinking he was the man of the house.
“I’ll keep you up all night” you shot back, heart racing a little against your chest as his big eyes burned into you. Maybe he could be a little intimidating this close up.
“If ya wanna fuck, jus gotta ask baby” Gator grinned before grabbing onto your ankle, you roll your eyes at him.
“I’d rather die” you spit out trying to pull your ankle from his grip, the position you were in making it difficult to do. Gator noticed knowing he was in control of the situation, quickly pulling so you fall backwards onto your ass. Hands against the floor as you try to quickly pull your thighs together to hide your underwear from his wandering gaze.
“That right? Gators hand moves back to your ankle to hold your leg in place as you try to pull away, flustered and angry at the same time, his eyes slowly wondering to between your legs. “I prefer lace” he smirks before letting go, you push yourself off the floor quickly.
“Pervert” you hiss before turning and storming back into your room, Gators laugh echoing through the apartment as you slam the door to your room. Bouncing down on your bed screaming into the mattress because yet again Gators response to you asking him to do anything was childish, you weren’t getting anywhere with him.
You lay awake for for the next hour, listening to him clattering around the kitchen making your blood boil as you imagine the mess you’re going to wake up to. The sound of the tv blaring and his stupid fucking laugh, the sound of the toilet seat being slammed down then the tap turning on at full pressure before you heard the hand towel hit the floor.
“Night sugar” he called from outside your door in that stupid fucking mocking tone, his voice so clear you knew his face was pressed right up against the crack. You knew he was smirking, you could hear it in his voice.
“Fuck you” you called back, voice shaking with rage that you couldn’t hide.
Gator scoffed before walking a few steps to his room, slamming the door making your eyes roll. Your body was prickling with anger, the worst part of your night hasn’t even started yet. You hated how paper thin the walls were, you could hear him breathing when the apartment was silent. It didn’t help that your beds were against each other, a thin wall was all that separated them.
You heard the sounds of his belt buckle being loosened before it hit the floor, you heard every item of clothing hitting it one after the other but at least you didn’t have to clean that. You’d actually never been in his room, you hoped you'd never have too.
The squeak of him sitting down on the bed turned your stomach, you knew what was coming next. The sound of his draw next to his bed opening, You even heard the splutter of what you could only imagine was lotion or lube of some sort before the bottle slammed down onto the side.
Then came the sound of the video that he didn't even try to hide, He had to know that you could hear it. Maybe that's what helped him get off? Did he think you enjoyed hearing that?
You grabbed the pillow from next to you on the bed pressing it against your face, no use. The sound of women crying out and moaning echoing through the wall of your room, Wet sounds of what you could only imagine was gators hand around his cock making your chest tighten.
"Fuck, that's it" Gator grunted, Wet sounds suddenly becoming quicker as groans fell from him.
You pull the covers up over your head in hopes they'd muffle more of the disgusting sounds coming from his room, You considered going to another room but then he'd know you'd heard him and if you you knew Gator as well as you thought you did he would get a kick from that and after what happened this evening you didn't want t give Gator anymore satisfaction.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck"
Finally, The tell tale sign that it was over. You could finally sleep, the nightmare was over.
~
"Mornin" Gator chirped as you walked into the kitchen, Of course he was in a good mood, he'd got his release and slept peacefully. He didn't lie awake all night with rage pumping through his body, You needed to bring it up. Maybe for once he would understand, he generally might not know you could hear him. Of course he did.
"Gator, we need to talk" You turned to face him, a smirk pressed to his lips already as he leaned back against the counter looking at you.
"M'all ears pretty"
"Dont call me th- Fuck, I hear what you do in your room" Gators smirk only grew wider making the rage in your chest burn deeper.
"Pervert" He scoffed watching the flush creep over your face.
"Pervert?" You hiss stepping closer to him "I think next door can probably hear it!"
"Wonder if it they get off on it like you" He grinned, bringing his coffee up to his mouth.
"Gator cut the shit! You're disgusting it sounds like you have three women in your room with you every night!"
"How'd ya know I don't?" Gator grinned, dragging his hand across his mouth before placing his mug down on the side.
"Maybe because we've lived together for six months and I've never saw another woman walk through the door" You smirked "Is it that hard for you to get laid?" You pouted teasingly.
"Yeah well at least I aint bringin random men home every weekend" Gator replied voice low as he walked closer to you "Ya think I enjoy that?"
"Wouldn't surprise me"
"Well I don't" Gator replied his eyes burning into yours.
"You sound jealous" you smirk pushing your finger into his chest "You can't get any so you don't like that I can"
"Didn't think I was movin in with a whore is all" Gator shrugged taking a step back away from you.
"And I didn't think I was moving in with a porn addict" You scoffed "Guess were both surprised"
Gator stared at you, For once speechless as he watched you gather your things before turning back towards him.
"It's your day off today right? Maybe get it all out of your system before I get home" You slap your hand down on his shoulder, smiling sweetly before turning and leaving him in silence in the kitchen.
~
You were already wrapped up in bed when Gator got home, Hopefully he'd been out getting his dick wet so he wouldn't need to disturb you tonight. You pulled the covers up over your ears anyway just incase, Half asleep before the slamming of his room door made your eyes flicker open.
You exhaled pushing yourself up onto your elbows listening for anything, but he was silent. You didnt hear the bed squeak, no shedding of clothes. Maybe he had finally listened.
You settled back down into the warm cocoon you'd made with the sheets, Letting your eyes flutter back shut as a feeling of relief washed over you. Your breathing shallowing out in the silence of the apartment, chest rising and falling softly.
Then you heard it, The clothes.
Your stomach turned, The sound of them being tossed to the floor making you sigh before logic set in. He couldn't sleep in his clothes, Faith. Have some faith In him you tried to convince yourself.
The squeak of the bed made your chest tighten again, skin burning before you realised he had to get into the bed to sleep. Maybe he was right you are a bitch, the man couldn't even have peace in his own room without you accusing him of things.
A feeling of guilt settling into the pit of your stomach, but you hadn't had a good night sleep in weeks now thanks to him.
The draw pulled open just like it always did, You shook your head surely not. He'd had all day to deal with himself, Why now?
"No fucking way" You sighed balling your hands into fists, Next came the sound of the video pushing you over the edge you jumped out of the bed throwing an oversized t-shirt over your underwear before storming out of your room. Not really thinking as you push open the door to him room, Freezing as you look at him.
Naked on top of the covers, Not even trying to hide himself from you as he continued to stroke at his cock. Eyes closed tightly, not looking at the video playing on his phone propped up on the draws next to his bed.
"I-"
Gators eyes opened, Locking with yours straight away as a smirk started to spread across his lips. Hand still working his cock lazily as he looked at you, Not embarrassed in the slightest.
"Ya need somethin Darlin?" He asked smiling as his hand continued to work against him, Your eyes flickering between his hand and the stupidly smug expression on his face.
"I- can you be quiet?" Your voice came out barely above a whisper, Eyes following the movement of his hand. You wanted to look away, not give him the satisfaction of knowing you liked what you saw.
"Mmm, can try sugar" he huffed still dragging his hand top to bottom of his length, Small groans falling from him as he got off on the way your eyes followed his movement.
A blush spread across your cheeks, pulling your gaze away from him to look at his face. It didn't help, the fucked out expression and his half lidded eyes went straight to your core.
"Came to tell you to..shut up"
"Yeah?" He stroked himself slower, eye brows raised as he looked at you "Ya told me twice, why aint ya left yet sugar?"
"I'm.." Your voice came out weak "Put some fucking clothes on, Gator" You scoffed shaking your head at him.
"Im in my own room" Gator laughed, hips bucking up slightly into his hands pulling your gaze right back down to him. The flushed tip dripping pre cum. "Yer the one who came burstin in here, Knowin full well what I was doin"
Your cheeks raged red now, he was right you did know what he was doing, No amount of talking could get you out of this one. You turned and walked towards the door of his room, the familiar squeak of the bed behind you turning your stomach.
"Where ya goin so soon?" Gators hand caught your wrist just as you reached the door of your room, Spinning you round to him.
"Let go, pervert!" You spit out, heart racing in your chest as the heat from his body radiated onto you. You could feel the heaviness of his cock against your thigh as he pulled you closer. "Fuck, back up" You mumbled pushing your hand into his chest.
"Dont act like this isn't what ya wanted" Gator tsk'd pushing you back against the wall "Ya dont think I know that's why yer always on my case?"
"Dream on" You scoffed, his words bringing the original problem back to the from of your mind "You're a fucking pig Gator! Messy, Disgusting!"
"Keep goin, baby" Gator whispered, Smirking at you as he started to stroke himself again "Makes me even harder hearin ya talk like that"
"You're delusional"
"Am I? that why yer squeezin yer thighs together like tha?" He smirked leaning in close to you, Letting his spare hand rest against your cheek before dragging his thumb against your lips "Tha why I can hear yer heart racin from here?"
"I hate you so fucking much" You whispered, Body buzzing with adrenaline made up from a mix of rage and wanting to let him do whatever he wanted to right now.
"That so?" Gator cooed letting his hand fall from your face, dragging it all the way down to your underwear as he pushed his fingers against the lace between your legs "That why yer fuckin soakin?"
"Im no.."
"Hmm" Gator pulled his hand away from you, Dragging his fingers that were coated with your slick across your lips making you gasp "Keep lying baby, Makes it more fun"
"It means nothing" You mumble looking away from him.
"Dont get all shy on me now" Gator scoffed before dropping down onto his knees in front of you, his fingers gripping onto the hem of your t-shirt before pushing it up.
You groaned knowing exactly what was coming next, Wishing the world would just swallow you up.
"Well, well, well" Gator smirked up at you "Pink lace"
"Stop" You whispered placing your hand against your face.
"Ya put my favourite on fer me" Gator grinned up at you "Not like tha granny shit ya had on yesterday"
"I didn't.."
Gators finger dragged down the front of the lace, slipping between your legs before you had chance to finish what you were trying to say, his nose brushed against them inhaling deeply as he looked up at the flustered expression on your face.
"Smells like yer desperate" He grinned making your stomach turn, Wanting to step away from him and run and hide in your room but he was right. You were desperate. You felt dizzy, hot sweat washing over you as his nose pressed into you.
"Stop" You whispered but your hand rested against his shoulder, Feeling so exposed under his gaze but in the most blissful way.
"Stop? Can if that's what ya want sugar" Gators nose pushed against the lace, warm breath hitting you through the barrier making you shudder "Dont wanna tho, Wanna taste this pretty pussy"
"G- Go back to playing with yourself in your room" You stuttered pulling away from him a little. Gators hand gripped onto your thighs possessively keeping you in place, Dragging his tongue over the pretty pink lace slowly as he held your eye contact. You bit down on your lip, Not wiling to let a moan slip free and let him know he was making you feel good.
"Why? Ya wanna watch again?" Gator groaned against your pussy, tasting you through the lace before looping his arm around your knee.
"Y-You're disgus..fuck" you sighed as Gator sucked your clit into his mouth through the fabric.
"Ya like that dont ya? Admit it darlin, Yer jus as needy as me"
You didnt answer, you couldn't even if you wanted to the warmth of his tongue pressing against you left you speechless.
"Up" He mumbled against you, dragging his tongue across you again the tip of his nose bumping against your clit making you gasp. "UP" he said again and you listened, throwing one of your legs onto his shoulder opening up wider for him as you back hit the wall, totally at his mercy no control in the situation anymore as you balanced on one leg.
"You're still a pervert" You whisper looking down at Gator who was smirking up at you, Face buried between your thighs. He didn't let the barrier of the lace stop him, sucking and licking at you as you moaned above him.
"Sound so pretty, sugar"
"Shut up" You spat out, letting your head fall back against the wall.
Circling your clit with his tongue through the fabric, your hips starting to roll against his face. Gators eyes were closed , long lashes pressed to his cheeks, brows furrowed like he was getting as much out of this as you were.
"I think ya like it when I talk..S'why yer fuckin my face"
"I- im not" You lied, biting down on your lip as you roll your hips against his face again.
Gator groaned like hearing you in denial spurred him on, Cock heavy and twitching between his legs being totally neglected so he could deal with your needs first.
"Want me ta stop then?" He asked as he pulled his face back slightly, lips and chin glistening from your slick as his hot breath hit your pussy. You pushed your hips forward urging him to continue but he just smirked at you, moving his hand from your thigh to your hip to hold you in place so you couldn't get any closer.
"G-Gator.." You sighed, heart racing in your chest. The high so close and he could rip it away from you right now. You whimpered pushing against his hand and luckily for you he loosened his grip before tightening it again to pull you forward onto his face.
"Didn't think so" His fingers hooked into the fabric pulling them to the side before his face was back between your thighs, the first touch of his tongue against your bare pussy making you cry out.
"Taste even better than I thought, Sweet girl" Switching between broad licks and sucks making your leg buckle. Gator looped his arm under your other leg lifting that one onto his other shoulder leaving no real space between your pussy and his face.
"Please.."
"Please what Darlin?" Gator asked licking a long stripe from your entrance to your clit before stopping to look up at you "Tell me what ya want"
"Please .Fuck, please just.."
"Just what?" He pulled away, Grinning up at you knowing exactly what he was doing. Making you beg, making you admit he wasn't that bad after all "Eat this pretty pussy till ya cum?"
"Fuck, yes!" You moan as your fingers twist into his hair, pushing his face closer into you in hopes that he'd finally shut up and just make you cum.
Gator groaned diving back in, Lapping at your needy pussy like it's all he's ever wanted.
"Mmm, still hate me?" Gator smirked against you, circling his tongue against your clit painfully slowly making your heel did into his back as you tensed up.
"God yes! I hate you so fucking much you're.." You sighed as you felt his fingers press down against your clit "Oh god"
"Go on" He urged as he circled it, Tongue fucking into you as you rolled against his face.
"You're a - Fuck! Asshole" You moaned, making gator laugh against you as his fingers started to move faster to match his tongue.
"Good, Like it tha way" The sensation of his tongue and fingers together almost sent you over the edge "Want ya ta think of this every time yer pissed off with me"
"Im..oh god, im always pissed off with you"
"Dont seem very pissed off Darlin" Gator cooed against you, tongue rolling over your entrance before dipping back in again making your toes curl as his tongue pumped in and out of you.
Orgasm hitting you like a train, legs trembling, Crying his name, words he couldn't even make sense of, pretty moans. His fingers rubbing at your clit as you tried to grab his wrists to pull him away, over sensitive to his touch.
"Good girl" Gator whispered, finally moving his hands to hold your thighs again placing soft kisses against them, leaving a wet trail behind him.
"Still hate me?" he asked, cock hard and leaking back in his hand as he stroked himself slowly looking at you.
You looked down at him, eyes wide but filled with need.
"So fucking much" You replied breathlessly, Stomach flipping as a grin spreads across his face. Carefully pulling your legs down off his shoulders, You slide down the wall in front of him your legs still to weak to hold you up yet.
SUMMARY: Where you and Steve cool down on a hot summer’s night.
WHAT TO EXPECT: 18+, mdni, suggestive content, domestic fluff, partial nudity, Steve is called a perv once (as a joke!)
A/N: feining for a summer with steve and pretend to play husband and wife while his parents are chronically gone 😛
WORD COUNT: 1.5k
It was 10 PM on a Saturday in the beginning of August and Hawkins, particularly Steve Harrington’s living room, was suffocating. The air conditioning unit conveniently decided to explode due to some electrical short circuit Dustin went on about.
Sprawled on top of Steve with your cheek pressed to his dampened t-shirt wasn’t the smartest idea to cool down, but you just wanted to be close to your boyfriend. You dug your chin into his sternum, watching the action movie flicker different scenes in his dark doe eyes. He had finally won a game of rock, paper, scissors against you, which meant he had his pick of movies to choose from after watching Dirty Dancing and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off every other night.
Steve’s parents decided to extend his dad’s work trip into a vacation in Germany, leaving you two alone in the big house to play husband and wife. For two blissful weeks, you and Steve have been waking up at noon wrapped in his sheets, cooking breakfast for dinner, and showering together in the master bathroom.
“You’re burning up,” Steve mumbled, his hand pushing the old, oversized gym shirt he gave you from his basketball years up your sweat-slicked spine. He was worse, practically a personal furnace underneath you, radiating heat through his cotton shirt. You were literally and figuratively melting into him.
The movie droned on and without a word, you rolled off of him your bare feet hitting the carpet with a soft thud. You padded your way into the cool-tiled kitchen, heading straight toward the refrigerator littered with polaroids you and Steve had taken recently: you smiling brightly at the county fair with the teddy bear he had won, you applying lipstick in the little mirror on Steve’s dresser before a date night, and Steve reading one of your smutty romance novels by the pool, visibly taken aback and simultaneously enraptured by its explicitness.
“Hey, hey, baby, come back!” Steve protested from the living room, scrambling up from the couch. “Where’re you going?”
You didn’t answer as you stood in front of the open fridge, staring at the sparse contents illuminated by the yellow light. The leftover Chinese, a container of spaghetti and meatballs (Steve’s signature), and a couple bottles of beer weren’t looking the most appetizing at the moment. Shutting the refrigerator, you yanked the freezer open instead, bending over to stick your entire face into the blast of icy air.
God. That was much better.
You straightened up, the heat of the muggy kitchen already closing back in, and pulled Steve's shirt over your head, tossing it onto one of the breakfast stools without looking. Shedding the thin layer made you feel a little bit better about the sweltering heat, leaving you in just your bra and underwear set.
You moved to the cabinet for a glass and filled it with ice from the dispenser, the cubes cracking as you ran water over them, yelling over your shoulder toward the living room over the loud action movie. “Hey, Steve! You want some ice water?”
Steve didn’t answer, so you turned to find him right behind you. His jaw was slack, eyes dragging down your nearly nude body with an openness that would’ve made you self-conscious if it were anyone else. Steve was struck stupid.
“What?” You leaned back against the counter, pressing your palms into the cool countertop. “It’s not like you haven’t seen all this before.”
“Y-yeah,” he stumbled, his voice dropping. “Doesn’t mean I never get tired of looking.”
“Perv,” you joke, sticking your tongue out to tease him.
“You walked into my kitchen and took your clothes off. What, did you think I wasn’t gonna look?”
“I was hot!”
“You’re telling me.” Steve stepped closer, crowding you against the countertop, his hands finding your waist, feeling his rough palms and fingertips against the softness of your skin. His index and middle finger hooked onto the side of your panties, pulling the thin fabric back, then releasing, letting it snap back onto your hip. The stark contact made your breath hitch. “You could’ve said something. I know my ways to cool you down.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Use your imagination,” he murmured, leaving in until his nose brushed your neck. You turned your head to give him more access to the column of your throat when you spotted a watermelon Steve had bought this morning, sitting on the cutting board.
Without warning, you turned around in the cage Steve created, selecting a big chef’s knife from the knife block with a casualness that made Steve’s hand shoot out to wrap around your wrist.
“Whoa, whoa!” He took the knife from your fingers, turning it over in his hand. “Not risking you accidentally hurting yourself with this. I’ll do it.” He moved in front of you so you could watch the line of his shoulders move as he sliced the fruit, the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck, damp from the heat.
Your hands found the hem of his shirt and pulled it up slowly, your palms sliding against the warm skin of his sides. He abandoned the task of cutting the watermelon completely. You felt him shiver as you dragged the fabric over his ribs, his shoulder blades, finally pulling it off completely and dripping it to the floor.
You pressed your lips to the center of his back, right between his shoulder blades dusted with freckles and moles you had studied and memorized like you were going to be tested the next day. He tasted like salt and skin as you kissed your way up his spine, your hands tracing the narrow waistband of his extra short track shorts that rode low on his hips and were probably two sizes too small.
“Keep going, Stevie,” you say in between kisses.
“You’re gonna make me lose a finger,” he said, but you could hear the smile in his voice.
“What, can’t multitask?”
You kept up on your assault of kisses, your mouth trailing across his shoulder and hands sliding around the softness of his stomach. Despite the ninety-degree kitchen, goosebumps rose on his arms.
“Do you want to jump in the pool?” You pause abruptly.
Steve set the knife down with a clatter on the cutting board and turned in your arms so his chest was now pressing against yours. His hands slid down to grip your thighs and lifted you into the counter in one smooth motion. He looked at you for a long moment, his eyes heady under the hair that fell into his face. Then a slow, shit-eating grin spread across his lips
“Race ya,” he said.
You were both off the counter before your next breath, bare feet slapping against the tile as you bolted through the house to the back door. Steve was right behind you, hand snagging the back of your panties for a half-second before you swatted him away. You tore through the living room, past the couch where you’d been lying an hour ago, through the sliding glass doors that Steve had left unlocked.
The illuminated pool looked so inviting, the water rippling slightly in the humid breeze.
Steve passed you on the lawn, his longer legs carrying him to the edge of the pool where he perfectly executed a front flip into the pool, causing a humungous splash. You shrieked as you hit the edge at full speed, cannonballing in beside him. The refreshing water shocked your overheated skin, closing over your head as you sank to the bottom, then kicked hard for the surface.
You broke through gasping, pushing your hair back and laughing before you got your breath back.
Steve was already pulling you toward him, your legs wrapping around his waist and arms around his neck as he tread water for the both of you.
“Cheater,” you said breathlessly.
“All’s fair,” he shrugged, and his mouth was on yours. The kiss was slow and charged with that electricity he always talked about. Steve’s hands slid down your back to the swell of your ass to pull you closer against him. His heart hammered where your chests pressed together. Chlorine and the faint sweetness of watermelon was still on his lips from when he probably sampled a piece.
He walked you to a ledge in the shallow end of the pool until your shoulder blades pressed against the rough concrete. You broke the kiss to breathe, but he was just getting started on the point of your jaw, then to your throat and the hollow of your collarbone where the water was pooling. You arched into him, feeling him hard against you underwater, and he groaned against your skin.
His hand moved to tangle in your wet hair, the other finding the clasp of your bra at your back. He paused for a second and you nodded against his shoulder. The clasp came undone with a practiced flick of his fingers.
He slid the straps down your shoulders and arms until your bra was floating away from you toward the deep end, leaving you bare under the moonlight.
description: cock warming with gator while you do your makeup:3
tw! smut, MDNI,unprotected piv, one homophobic comment.
word count! 1.0k
“Gatorrr!” you yelled out into the cabin. Dead silence echoed throughout the house. You huffed before trying again. “GATORRR!”
Gator walked into the room. “Jesus Christ, woman, what in the hell do you want? Always hollerin’ my ear off.”
You rolled your eyes at him. “Can you just come sit at my vanity chair?”
“Nuh uh. Nope. You ain’t tryin’ that makeup shit on me again. I ain’t no queer.”
“Oh my god can you just shut up for five minutes and come sit?”
Gator grumbled under his breath before crossing your shared bedroom and sitting in your vanity chair. “Alright. Now what?”
You stood above him, staring at him with a smirk, before you reached down and started to unbuckle his belt.
“What’re you doin’?”
“Oh my god, Gator, are you actually going to question me while I’m undoing your pants right now?”
Gator went silent and let you continue until you finally freed his cock. He was still soft, clearly not horny enough to get hard given the fact that Roy had given him an earful earlier in the day.
“What do you wanna watch?” You turned around, turning the TV on and leaving him out in the open, bare.
“Porn? What kinda freaky shit you plannin’ over there?”
“No, Gator, not porn. Like a show or a game or something, I dunno.”
“Uh… they got any football on? Why you want me watchin’ somethin’ anyway?”
You ignored Gator as you found a football game that was on (god bless it was football season, because it was the only way you could get Gator to sit down and watch something without complaining).
As you got the entertainment on for Gator, you made your way to yours. You shimmied out of your sweats and black thong, completely leaving yourself bare from the waist down. You made eye contact with Gator as he stared at your naked lower half. If he wasn’t hard before, he definitely would be now. Without warning you turned your back to him, and wrapped your fingers around his cock. It twitched in your hand, thickening fast as you stroked him slow from base to tip. You lined him up, felt the blunt head nudge against your entrance, then sank down. The stretch burned sweet and deep as your walls parted around him, inch by inch, until you were half way seated. Heat bloomed low in your belly. You watched him in the vanity mirror eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched, a low grunt vibrating out of his chest.
“Goddamn, woman… what the hell you tryin’ to do?” he asked, making eye contact with you in the mirror.
“Just watch your game while I do my makeup,” you answered, acting unfazed by the fact that Gator’s cock was halfway into your guts.
You opened your vanity drawer, picking up your eyebrow pencil, and started to fill them in. Then you pumped primer onto your skin and grabbed your concealer to conceal your brows.
Gator tried his best to focus on his game, but every time you shifted it just added to his hard on, which was starting to hurt from the lack of friction.
You settled deeper onto him, hips rocking just enough to take the rest of his length until you were fully seated, the stretch making your breath hitch once before you forced yourself still. Gator’s hands twitched on the arms of the vanity chair like he wanted to grab your waist but was too stubborn to give in yet. On the TV, a referee’s whistle blew and some guy in pads got leveled; Gator’s eyes stayed glued to the screen even while his cock throbbed hard inside you.
You leaned forward toward the mirror, elbows braced on the vanity top so your back arched and your ass pressed flush against his hips. The new angle made him grunt low in his throat.
“Fuc- sit still, will ya?” he muttered, voice rough.
You kept your eyes on the mirror, blending concealer under your eyes with the little sponge. The spongy texture whispered against your skin. Gator’s cock throbbed inside you, thick and hot, and every time you leaned forward to get closer to the mirror your walls clenched around him. He answered with another failed thrust, the chair legs scraping the floor as he tried to fuck up into you from below.
“You’re doin’ this on purpose,” he accused, eyes flicking from the game to the mirror and back.
“Doing what? Makeup?” You smirked at his reflection, deliberately clenching around him once. His breath punched out of him.
“Jesus Christ, woman-”
His hands finally left the chair and clamped onto your bare thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks. He thrust up again, harder this time, the wet slap of skin on skin loud under the football commentary.
Gator kept trying to move beneath you short, frustrated rolls of his hips that made his cock drag deep along your walls. Each thrust sent a hot pulse of pleasure through you, but you stayed steady, blending product over your cheeks like this was any normal night.
The crowd on the TV roared. Gator’s grip tightened. He thrust up again, deeper, the head of his cock pressing against that sensitive spot inside you until your thighs trembled.
You kept your voice light. “Score?”
He glanced at the screen, distracted and panting. “Fourteen to seven. Don’t you start movin’ like that, wait… no… fuck, don’t stop”
You gave one slow, deliberate circle of your hips, just enough to make him curse under his breath, then went right back to smoothing foundation like nothing was happening. His cock twitched hard inside you. He tried to thrust up again, desperate for more friction, but you stayed planted, using your weight to keep him pinned to the chair.
“Makeup first,” you reminded him, catching his eyes in the mirror. Heat and wetness slicked the place where your bodies met. “Game’s not going anywhere. Neither are you.”
I know Gator is a terrible person, but I felt like this was more of a Gator type plot. Sorry 😞
Summary: You’re stuck in brutal LA traffic with awkward, try-hard rideshare driver Kurt Kunkle (KurtsWorld96). After two hours of his nervous jokes, camera fiddling, and desperate need for attention, you decide to give the pathetic little fame gremlin exactly what he’s craving.
Word count: 2.4K
Warnings: NSFW, breast worship, nipple play, inexperienced/virgin Kurt, masturbation (m), Kurt being pathetically horny
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The traffic on the 101 was a special kind of hell that night. What should have been a quick hop from your place to the rooftop party in Silver Lake had turned into a two-hour crawl of brake lights and exhaust. You’d almost canceled the Spree ride twice, but the driver, some guy with a 4.98 rating and the username KurtsWorld96 had already accepted, and you were already running late.
When you slid into the passenger seat, Kurt greeted you like you were the first real human he’d seen in weeks.
“Hey! Welcome to the ride! KurtsWorld96 in the house — or, y’know, in the car. Haha. Content is king, right?” He flashed a too-big smile, ears already pink. The interior of his beat-up sedan was rigged with at least four small cameras: one on the dash, one on the rearview, one angled toward the passenger seat, and a little GoPro-looking thing clipped to the sun visor. He kept glancing at them, adjusting angles with nervous fingers while he pulled into traffic.
You noticed immediately. He noticed you noticing.
“Oh — those? Just for the stream. I do these long-form rides sometimes. ‘A Day in the Life of a Rideshare Guy Trying to Make It.’ People love behind-the-scenes stuff. Authenticity, y’know?” He laughed too loud at his own joke, then launched into a rapid-fire monologue about algorithms, engagement, and how some influencer you’d never heard of had gone viral last week by doing “relatable car content.”
He was trying so hard.
Every time you chuckled at one of his awkward bits, the self-deprecating jokes about his follower count, the way he name-dropped people like they were household names, his whole face lit up. Ears went full red. He’d glance over at you like he couldn’t believe you were actually listening, then immediately look back at the road like he’d been caught staring. His knuckles were white on the wheel at first. By the time you hit the worst of the gridlock, he was loosening up, one hand gesturing wildly while he talked about his “master plan” to blow up.
“Most passengers just stare at their phones the whole time,” he said at one point, voice dropping a little. “Like I’m not even here. But you’re… cool. You’re actually talking to me. That’s rare.”
You caught the lonely edge under the hype-man energy. This guy, 23, living in his parents’ shadow, rigging his car like a mobile studio, desperate for anyone to give a shit, was vibrating with the need to be seen. And underneath the try-hard streamer persona, there was something weirdly sweet about how genuinely excited he got when you laughed.
By the time the exit finally appeared, Kurt looked equal parts exhausted and wired, like he’d been mainlining Red Bull and validation for two straight hours.
He pulled up to your drop-off spot on a quiet side street a block from the party, put the car in park, and turned to you with that eager, hopeful smile.
“Uh… thanks for riding with me. And talking. Seriously. Most people just… yeah. This was… actually kinda dope.” He rubbed the back of his neck, fingers twitching like he wanted to say more but didn’t know how. “Five stars? Or, like… whatever. No pressure.”
You could see it all over him, the inexperience, the desperate need to seem cool, the way his eyes kept flicking to your face like he was memorizing every detail for later. The cameras were still rolling. He didn’t seem to care anymore.
Before you opened the door, you tilted your head and said it casually, like you were offering him a stick of gum:
“Hey, Kurt… you want to see my tits?”
His brain bluescreened so hard you could almost hear it.
Kurt’s eyes went wide, mouth falling open. The blush that had been living on his ears exploded across his cheeks and down his throat. He made a strangled little noise that was half-laugh, half-choke.
“W-wait — for real? Like… right now? In the car?” His voice cracked. He glanced wildly around the empty street, then back at you, then at the cameras, then back at you. “Is this — are you pranking me for content? Because if you are, that’s actually genius, but also I might die—”
You just smiled and shook your head.
He swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I mean… yeah. Fuck yeah. If you’re serious. I won’t — I won’t film it or anything unless you say it’s okay. I just… holy shit.” He was already leaning forward a little, breathing shallow, one hand still gripping the wheel like a lifeline. The bulge in his jeans was already obvious, twitching visibly as his brain caught up to what was happening.
You didn’t tease it out. You just grabbed the hem of your shirt and bra together and pulled them up in one smooth motion, letting your tits spill free right there in the passenger seat of his rigged-up rideshare car.
Kurt made a sound like he’d been punched in the chest.
“Fuuuuck…” It came out hoarse, broken. His eyes locked onto your breasts like they were the only thing that had ever mattered in his entire life. His mouth hung open, breath fogging the air between you. The cool-guy streamer act shattered completely. “Jesus Christ… they’re… they’re perfect. I mean — shit, I’ve never… I’ve never seen real ones. In person. Like this.”
He was rambling, eyes darting between your chest and your face like he was terrified this was a dream and you’d vanish if he looked away. One hand hovered uselessly in the air; the other was still white-knuckling the steering wheel. His cock was straining so hard against his jeans you could see the outline of the head and a growing wet spot where he was already leaking pre-cum.
“Can I…?” His voice was wrecked. “Just touch? Or — fuck, I don’t know. Whatever you want. I’ll do anything. Please.”
You gave him a little nod. “Go ahead.”
The noise he made was somewhere between a whimper and a prayer.
His hand trembled as he reached across the console. The first touch was hesitant, just the very tips of his fingers brushing the soft underside of your left breast, like he was afraid you’d disappear or slap him. “Shit… they’re so soft,” he whispered, voice hoarse with awe. His palm finally cupped you fully, warm and clammy from nerves. He squeezed gently, testing the weight, then a little firmer as confidence flickered in. His thumb dragged across your nipple, circling it slowly, watching in fascination as it hardened under his touch.
A low, needy groan tore out of him.
He was breathing hard through his mouth now, eyes glued to your chest as both hands came up to explore: kneading, squeezing, lifting, letting them drop just to watch the way they moved. His inexperience showed in the eager, slightly clumsy way he touched you, but the pure hunger made it hotter than any smooth technique could have.
“Fuck… I’ve thought about this so many times,” he admitted in a rushed mumble, cheeks burning. “Not — not you specifically, just… real ones. Not on a screen. Not through a camera. Just… warm and soft and real.” He leaned in closer across the center console, face inches from your chest, and without thinking pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the top of one breast. Then another. Then he was sucking lightly at the skin, like he couldn’t help himself.
His cock was straining painfully. The wet spot on his jeans had grown. One hand stayed on your tit while the other dropped down to press hard against the massive bulge in his pants, palming himself with a desperate little whimper.
He looked up at you with glassy, fucked-out eyes, lips already shiny.
“Can I suck on them?” His voice cracked. “Please? I’ll be so good. I just — I really want to taste you. I’ve never… please.”
You ran your fingers through his messy hair and murmured, “Yeah… go ahead.”
Kurt let out a shaky, broken exhale like you’d just handed him the keys to heaven. “Holy shit — thank you, thank you—”
He buried his face between your tits first, nuzzling into the soft valley with a needy groan, inhaling like he was trying to commit your scent to memory forever. Then his mouth found one nipple. The first suck was experimental, soft, wet, almost reverent. The second was deeper, hungrier. He moaned loudly against your skin, the vibration shooting straight through you as he sucked harder, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.
“Mmmph—fuck, you taste so good,” he mumbled between licks and sucks, switching to the other nipple so he didn’t neglect it. His hands kept kneading, squeezing possessively, thumbs brushing over the wet skin his mouth had left behind. He was sloppy, eager, inexperienced, lots of tongue, occasional teeth grazing when he got too excited but the pure enthusiasm made up for everything.
His hips were rolling subtly in the driver’s seat, grinding against nothing as he nursed at your tits like a man starved. The wet sounds of his mouth filled the car, mixed with his ragged breathing and occasional broken whimpers. One hand stayed on your breast while the other kept pressing and rubbing at the huge bulge in his jeans, shamelessly humping his own palm.
He pulled off your nipple with a wet pop, lips swollen and shiny, a string of spit still connecting him to you.
“I’m so fucking hard it hurts,” he confessed in a shaky whisper, looking up at you with those big, desperate eyes. “I’ve never… no one’s ever let me do this before. You’re so fucking nice to me. So perfect.”
He dove back in, sucking even more greedily now, one hand massaging the tit his mouth wasn’t on while his hips bucked helplessly. You could feel how close he was to losing it completely, trembling, whimpering, leaking steadily into his jeans.
You ran your fingers through his hair gently and told him the truth: “I’d gladly let you keep sucking on them longer… but I’m already so late for this party. I really need to get going.”
Kurt made the softest, most disappointed whine against your breast like a kicked puppy but he didn’t fight it. He gave one last long, slow, savoring suck on your nipple, tongue flicking, before reluctantly pulling off with another wet pop. His lips were red and glossy, eyes glassy and dazed.
“Fuck… okay. Yeah. I get it,” he mumbled, voice hoarse. He looked genuinely heartbroken for a second, eyes still glued to your tits as you started to pull your clothes back down. “This was… this was the best ride I’ve ever had. Like, ever. In my whole life.”
He sat back in his seat, breathing hard, the massive bulge in his jeans still very obvious and twitching. He adjusted himself awkwardly with one hand, wincing.
“I’m probably gonna… uh… think about this all night,” he admitted with an embarrassed little laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably while I jerk off later. Sorry — too much info?”
You just smiled and told him it was fine.
He watched you fix your clothes with hungry, lingering eyes, then forced himself to look at your face again.
“Thanks for… everything. For talking to me. For letting me… you know.” His cheeks were still flushed dark. “You’re seriously the coolest passenger ever. Five stars. A hundred stars. Ten out of ten, would drive again.”
He unlocked the door for you but hesitated before you stepped out.
“Hey… if you ever need another ride… or, like… anything… just request me, okay? KurtsWorld96. I’ll be there. Anytime.” He gave you that awkward, hopeful little smile again, the one that made him look younger than he was.
You stepped out, closed the door, and walked away toward the party.
The second your door clicked shut, Kurt slumped back in the driver’s seat like all the air had been punched out of him.
“Fuck… fuck fuck fuck,” he muttered under his breath, already fumbling with his jeans. He didn’t even bother pulling the car away from the curb. He just yanked the zipper down, shoved his boxers low enough to free his aching cock, and wrapped his hand around it with a broken, relieved moan.
He was painfully hard, flushed dark, veins standing out, the head shiny and leaking steadily from how worked up he’d gotten sucking on your tits. The first stroke was rough and desperate, twisting on the upstroke the way he liked.
“God… your tits were so perfect,” he groaned, head falling back against the headrest. His hand started pumping fast, wet sounds filling the car as pre-cum slicked his fist. “So soft… so warm in my mouth… fuck, the way you let me suck on them—”
He closed his eyes and replayed it all in vivid detail: the way your nipples had hardened under his tongue, how you’d run your fingers through his hair, the soft sounds you’d made when he got a little too eager with his teeth, the weight of your breasts in his hands. His free hand reached up like he was still touching you, squeezing at empty air.
“Never… never felt real ones before,” he panted, jerking faster, hips bucking up into his fist. “You just let me… fuck, you’re so nice to me… so fucking cool…”
His thighs were shaking. He was whimpering now, shameless, high little noises spilling out every time his fist twisted over the head.
“Gonna… gonna cum so fast — shit — your tits, fuck—”
It only took another minute. His whole body tensed, back arching off the seat, and he let out a loud, broken moan as he came hard. Thick ropes of cum spilled over his fist and onto his shirt, pulsing again and again while he kept stroking through it, milking every drop as he pictured your tits bouncing, your nipples wet from his mouth, the way you’d smiled at him like he wasn’t a pathetic try-hard loser.
He sat there panting for a long moment afterward, covered in his own mess, staring at the ceiling of the car with a dazed, stupid grin.
“Best… passenger… ever,” he whispered.
Eventually he cleaned up with some fast-food napkins from the glovebox, still half-hard just thinking about it. He fixed his clothes, wiped the sweat off his forehead, and finally put the car in drive.
A new ride request pinged on his phone.
Kurt smiled to himself, that eager, try-hard energy already creeping back in and accepted it.
But as he pulled away from the curb, he couldn’t stop replaying the memory. Your tits. Your smile. The way you’d let him touch and taste like it was the easiest thing in the world. For the first time in a long time, Kurt Kunkle wasn’t thinking about views or algorithms or going viral.
He was thinking about you.
And wondering, hoping, if you’d ever request KurtsWorld96 again.
