#trevor philipsxreader

[tigertofu]

HIIII IM LITERALLY OBSESSED W YOUR WORK LIKE OMFG KEEP IT UP <3 Can you write trevor x shy! chubby/fat reader smut 😼

hi hiiii !! i could not have asked for a better first nsfw request than this one 😭😭 i had SO MUCH fun with this prompt........ trevor/shy, chubby girl is licherally my specialty so tysm for sending it in 💕💕💕!

i have got to start remembering to add gifs to these posts......

pairing: chubby and shy fem reader/Trevor

summary: One night, the raunchy pickup lines of a strange man lure you from the bar you two met in to his trailer. Your nerves make your attempt at hooking up a bit difficult at first, but he knows just how to put your mind at ease.

cw's: explicit smut

wordcount: 2,747

ao3 link

“C’mon, sugar. Don’t get shy on me now.”

Your eyes darted up to meet those of the man who’s lips you’d just unlocked your own from. But even in the dim of his cluttered room, you couldn’t meet his gaze. It was so intense it felt like it would burn straight through your retinas. 

“S–Sorry,” you muttered, staring at the cover of a porn mag on his crumpled comforter. A blonde woman in a red bikini, her long limbs perfectly posed, her stomach flat beneath the hint of ribcage under her impossibly round, perky breasts, graced the cover. The apprehension in your stomach quitched. You wondered if, despite Trevor’s interest in getting you out of the Yellow Jack and into his trailer the moment you acquiesced to his raunchy pickup lines, that was the type of woman he was into.

He groaned beside you. Flopped down with his back against the headboard of his bed.

“And stop fucking apologizing,” he said, tugging at the back of your shirt. You relented and scooted yourself back to sit beside him. 

You knew the “sorry”’s were getting repetitive at this point. You’d squeaked one when you’d tripped over an empty pizza box on the way to his bed and caught yourself against him. You’d murmured another when you’d miscalculated which way to tilt your head when he’d first gone in for a kiss, causing the tips of your noses to bump against each other. 

“I’m—” Your sentence got cut off by him reaching over to fondle one of your breasts. The warmth of his calloused palm seeped through your shirt and bra. Your nipple, which had perked up to attention the second his mouth had come down on yours a few minutes earlier, rolled beneath his hand. You made a whimpering sound in the back of your throat before refinding the strength to breathe out: “I–I’m just kinda nervous is all.”

“Nervous? Why?” He cupped your tit from below now, lifting it away from your chest, feeling out its weight and the way the soft flesh conformed to his hand. “You scared? ‘Cuz I promise I’m not gonna hurtcha, sweetheart. Unless you want me to. Orrr… Maybe you’d wanna hurt me? I’m always down for any of that kinky shit.”

“I–I don’t know why,” you huffed. As you spoke, Trevor’s free hand snaked its way to your thigh. He gave it an experimental squeeze. “I just am.”

But you did know why. It was the same type of shyness that dewed your forehead with sweat and cinched your vocal chords shut, making your words shaky, whenever you found yourself in an intimate situation. Anxiety that you’d do or say something awkward. That your partner wouldn’t like what they found underneath your clothes. It had increased tenfold the usual tonight though, because you’d found yourself here, in the bed of a man with years more experience than you, who you’d already sensed had a hair–trigger temper.

Trevor didn’t catch onto your lie, thankfully. 

The hand on your thigh nudged upwards, leveraging your legs apart by a few inches. 

“Don’t be nervous,” he cooed against the side of your head. His breath, malty with the half dozen beers he’d drank at the Yellow Jack while trying to woo you, curled warm against the shell of your ear. “Just relax… Relax and let Uncle T take care of ya.”

The nickname made your stomach roll over itself. In a bad way or a good way, you couldn’t be sure. Maybe both. What you were sure of, was that the moment Trevor finished with undoing the zipper of your jeans, he would find a pair of panties that’d already been soaked through with excitement. 

A rolling growl came out of him when he made this little discovery. 

“Nervous but wet as hell,” he said, clearly proud of himself for eliciting this reaction. 

He squeezed your sex, testing the plushness of the area. The wetness spread underneath the cotton of your panties. You let out an airy moan. 

With one hand still shoved down your pants, he moved to tug at the neckline of your shirt with his other. 

“How about we get all these pesky clothes off, eh?” he crooned.

“W–Wait,” you suddenly cried, grabbing his wrist. 

He jerked his head away from its spot beside yours. Flashed you an annoyed glare. You swallowed. 

“I… Can I… I–Is it okay if I keep my shirt on?” 

Trevor guffawed with sheer disbelief, as if you’d just told him to forget all the flirting and the brief makeout session you’d already shared, you’d actually changed your mind about fucking and would rather just watch a movie together.

“Why the fuck would you wanna do that?” he asked gruffly. “C’mon. I wanna see those tits bounce while I’m fucking you.”

“I’m…” Worried you won’t find me attractive. Worried you’ll say something mean. Worried you’ll change your mind about doing this. “…Nervous.”

He continued his confused glare. You ducked your head down, staring again at the porn magazine by your foot. A painful, silent minute spun out. Then, Trevor clicked his tongue against his teeth. 

“Listen to me. You are sexy as hell. You know that?” he said, his voice more low and even than it’d been a moment ago. You felt a bit embarrassed that he’d caught on to your need for validation, but overwhelmingly glad that he was freely giving it.  “The, ah, ancient peoples… Greeks or Romans or whatever… They used to make statues of Venus—y’know, the goddess of fucking—with your type of figure.”

You glanced up at him. “Really?”

“They sure as shit did. Know why? ‘Cuz they had good taste. They knew that the more a woman has, the more there is to love.” He grabbed at your tits again, this time manhandling as much as he could with just one hand. “I mean—look at these puppies! And you’re so fucking soft… All over. Christ. I could just eat you right up, sugar.”

You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth, feeling your cheeks warm. Nobody had ever complimented you like this before. It felt good. It felt genuine.

It didn’t feel quite good enough to quell your shyness, though.

You bowed your head again and watched your hands worry at the hem of your shirt. Trevor let out a harsh sigh as you retreated back into yourself.

Suddenly, he let go of you and clambered out of bed. You looked up and watched as he stumbled over the same pizza box you had earlier, which made you giggle a bit. The giggle stopped when he reached for the fly of his jeans the second he was on his feet and, in one hard yank, pulled them and his briefs down. Your head snapped back to the familiar sight of your own lap. There was a moment of clothing rustling as he stripped himself.

“Look at me,” he said firmly once he was finished.

By the sound of his voice, you expected to see another glare pinching his features when you followed his command. But he was actually smirking. You tried to keep your eyes pinned to his, but they were far too intense and you were far too flustered. So, you let your gaze schlep down his bare body as he stood before you, restlessly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, his arms outspread in presentation. 

Your attention caught on certain parts. His broad chest covered in a smattering of dark hair. The hard muscle filling out his shoulders. The way his waist tapered slightly inwards. A couple–inch–long scar just below his left ribs. His lean but not entirely flat stomach. The trail of hair that started just above his navel and ran down to—

You flicked your attention back up, settling on the ridge of his collarbone.

“Your turn now, princess,” he purred. “Don’t you know it’s weird to be the only fully–dressed person in a room?”

You looked him in the face and gave him a smile now.

“I… Well. O–Okay.” You added, a bit more demurely: “If you help me.”

“Atta girl,” he muttered, stepping up to the edge of the bed again. 

He grabbed at the hem of your shirt and tugged up, encouraging you to straighten your arms over your head. 

Being undressed by him was oddly comforting. The way he struggled with unclasping your bra and unzipping your jeans, growling curses at himself as his fingers slipped in his excitement, made you feel wanted. Desired. Needed. He grabbed random palmfuls of the softest parts of your body as he went, kneading them with shaky appreciation. 

After he’d hooked his thumbs under the waistband of your panties and pulled them down and off of your legs, he paused for a moment. Standing over you as you sat on the edge of his bed, he drank in the full sight of your naked body. His dilated pupils jittered as they traced your soft curves.

“Look at you.” There was hunger in his voice, the corners of his mouth rising into another predatory smirk. You closed your eyes and tilted your chin to your chest, bashfully smiling. “Even fucking better than I imagined.”

A hand cupped your chin. Your head was thrown back and suddenly, his mouth was on yours again. 

He shoved his tongue against yours. Breathless groaning leaked out from between his lips. You tasted them; drank in his desperate exhales and the bitterness of smoked cigarettes and downed beers and burned crystal. Part of you knew you should be disgusted. The other part, which was quickly ballooning into not just a part but a whole, told you to enjoy this—to enjoy all of him as he was enjoying all of you.

Before you knew it, you were on your back. He hunched over you, his broad silhouette blocking the weak light of the bare bulb hung from his ceiling. As he got closer, bending further, you felt something hot and hard and slick bump against one of your knees. You reached out blindly as you continued to kiss him, feeling for his erection. Your hand instinctively wrapped around it the moment your fingertips brushed against its head. Heavy and solid and wrapped with surprisingly soft skin, his cock completely filled your palm. You found that it was quite short, too, as you began to lazily pump it. Didn’t matter. Your fingers couldn’t even close all the way around him, he was so thick. A throb that felt both tightening and loosening at once travelled through your sex when you thought about just how far he would stretch you out. 

Trevor hissed against your mouth, his frame suddenly drawing up tight. He bit at your bottom lip; tugged at it and growled around it.

“Fuck the foreplay. I think we’re both plenty ready.”

You murmured an affirmative sound against his lips, and he straightened himself up from you.

This time, you shamelessly admired his whole body as he moved to his bedside table and rummaged around in its drawer for a condom. A trickle of precum had leaked from the bulbous, red tip of his cock. There was a slight curve to his erection that you knew would press against that sweet spot tucked up inside of you just perfectly. It twitched against his fingers as he shakily rolled a condom down its length. 

When he turned to you, he was grinning again. Your lower abdomen felt like it’d been turned to liquid. And as he grabbed you by the hips and yanked your ass to the very edge of his bed, spreading your thighs for himself, you felt that liquid seep from you. You briefly wondered if you’d ever been wetter; quickly decided you hadn’t. 

Trevor reached down between the two of you to guide his cock. You felt him bump up against your sex. He made a few jerking passes up and down your slit, teasing you, nudging maddeningly briefly up against your throbbing clit before going back down to press against your entrance. 

Your mouth dropped open when he finally eased his cock into your pussy. As your body stretched to accommodate him, pain bloomed deep inside you. He buckled forward, planting his hands outside your shoulders. You watched him wince and felt yourself grimacing, as well.

“Fuck,” he hissed through grit teeth. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You tried to say that no, maybe he was just big, but then he canted hips further, fully sheathing himself with a quiet squelch. Your words turned into a mewl. He chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah… Thaaat’s it, sugar,” he breathed, straightening himself up again and yanking you even closer to him by your hips, until you could feel his balls pressing warm and soft against your ass. “Make those pretty little sounds for me.”

And then he was fucking you. And it was good. Really good. So good that even if you didn’t want to make “pretty little sounds for him,” they would’ve involuntarily bubbled up out of you anyways.

Every thrust of his hips sent a burst of achey pleasure coursing through your insides. He was so close—perfectly painfully, utterly pleasurably close—to being too thick for you to handle, and yet the generous slick your sex had sopped itself with made it easy for him to piston in and out of you. Each jab into you knocked a grunt from his scarred, parted lips and a wet whimper from your own. 

His pace quickly became messy. Faster. Jagged. You clutched at the threadbare comforter beneath you. Watched, and adored, the faint ripple of hidden muscle flexing and unflexing beneath the fat of his stomach as he fucked you while he watched every tantalizing bounce of your breasts. The heady scent of sex quickly filled the room, mingling with the wet sounds of your bodies smacking against each other, making your head swim.

Just a minute into it, Trevor suddenly drove forward as far as he could. You let out a keening moan as you felt him fully bury himself inside of you, your core on the verge of completely melting down from the sheer goodness of being so incredibly full of him.

“You look so fucking good at the end of my boy,” Trevor growled, moving his hands from the bed to your tits. He greedily filled each hand with one, your plush skin overflowing from the spaces between his fingers. “Like a fucking dream, baby. Shit, shit, shit, I–I love you. I love you so, so fucking much.”

His voice warbled over the sentiment. He began to thrust again, going hard, his movements shallow but primal, keeping his cock almost entirely buried inside of you. Itching, hot tension moved through your guts. You threw your head back. Reached out and grabbed at his forearms as his hold on your breasts turned crazed and almost painful. Felt the hard muscle under his scar–spattered skin as he held onto you and you onto him. 

As quickly as it’d appeared, the tension inside of you mounted up. Every swing of his hips, every huffed breath, every gravelly groan, inched you closer and closer to a climax that was approaching with reckless abandon. 

“Trevor,” you managed to gasp out. “I–I’m gonna cum.”

“Good, good, g–good girl,” Trevor rasped above you. “C’mon, c’mon. Cum for me; cum all over that dick, sweetness.”

The tension swirled and condensed, cinching up every aching muscle of your pussy. With one drawn–out moan, Trevor thrust into you as deep as he could once more and you came completely undone.

Climax ripped through you. Your back, damp with sweat, arched off the bed. Static burst behind your closed eyes. Your pussy clenched and unclenched around his cock with the strength of a coiled spring shooting out then being pressed down again, over and over. In the white–hot haze of orgasm, you didn’t even notice that Trevor had stopped his thrusting until you felt his cock begin to pulsate right against your sweet spot, milked by the fluttering walls of your sex. 

“I love you, I love you, I love you!” he whined.

He collapsed atop you once he was finished.

The two of you raced to catch your breaths. For how long, you didn’t know. All you knew was that, with his chest pressed against yours, the sweat of his skin mingling with yours and his cock slowly going soft inside of you, you felt more satisfied than you ever had before.

[rreskk]

TROUBLE CONCEIVING LUST

-A/N: I lowkey rushed cos my laptop is dying, so apologises if grammar sucks (and spelling!)

Summary: You met this guy through mutual friends and he had to be the most... Interesting... Sexy?... Unusual man, ever. Playing a "spin the bottle" game ended drastically. You couldn't help yourself, and neither could he.

TW: -Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 5777

NORTH YANKTON — 2002

“Who are these fine babes?”

You looked up from your empty glass of booze. A night out with some friends was almost at it’s end until one of your friends, Amanda, decided to bring along her “friend” who’s name was Michael. He mentioned 2 other guys coming, 2 faces you aren’t familiar with.

Smiling softly, you stared ahead at this middle-aged man who’s hair was blonde and slicked into a pony-tail. He was quite chubby but tall, a big lad. He was the guy who spoke first, his eyes drifting from girl to girl. There was a sense of excitement behind his gaze as Michael, the one you were briefly familiar with, spoke.

“This is Brad,” His hand signalled to the blonde guy you were just looking at before noticing a taller, much slimmer man behind them both, “And this is Trevor.”

You instantly made eye-contact with this stud. A shabby mullet, all wild and untamed. His hair was brown, a dark, chocolate brown (to be exact), and so was this stache. It was a fairly groomed moustache that really brings out his intense eyes. You couldn’t help but inspect this stranger with every detail you could find… That goes from his eyebrow scar to this gauntly, sickly grin he had. It was abnormal and different. You’ve never seen a man so rugged, scary but also striking.

You both held strong eye-contact before he was torn from your gaze and upon the rest of the group.

“How are you, Trevor?” Amanda asked with an informal tone; sounding rather disinterested, almost irritated at this guy called Trevor.

And the moment he revealed his voice, you had opened your mouth with fascination. The rawness and deep, taunting, grainy voice – it was glorious – you’d be able to sit and listen to him talk for years straight. However, a few words in, you’ve came to the conclusion that he was from the North; Canada. He had this Canadian tongue that was quite hard to miss.

“Splendid, Mandy. Don’t you have a nightshift, ay? It is a Friday.” He grinned at her, teasing.

“I took the day off.”

“Oh!” Mocked Trevor, “I thought money was an issue?”

Amanda glared at him. This guy was definitely a menace.

“Trevor leave her alone. Come introduce yourself, you too Brad. We’ve got – “ Michael had named every girl before approaching you, “ – and this is [y/n].”

“How’s it going, [y/n]?” You were surprised that he had asked you a question. His deadly eyes stared back at yours.  

“I’m fine.”

“Mm… Nice evening?”

“It’s been nice, yes.” You nodded your head.

“Michael mentioned you before,” He looked at you up and down, “Pleasure to meet you, at last.” He held out his hand and you could proper visualise his rough, veiny skin.

You proceeded to shake his hand, the contact so electrifying that you couldn’t even dare yourself to look into his eyes. It felt forbidden to feel such strong emotions for a man you just met.

“Pleasure to meet you too, Trevor.”

Trevor gave you a wink as everyone began to chat amongst themselves. He had left the conversation with intensions of annoying his buddies who were trying to decide on a “friendly, fun game” to end the night. They all took chairs and sat around the already crowded table. This guy, Bradley, was already smoking up a joint as Trevor eagerly took a hit before pouring himself some whiskey that Amanda didn’t finish. He ignored her protests and just downed it in one, throwing the bottle aside as it rolled off onto the floor.

“Jesus, Trevor! That was mine!” She complained and looked at Michael for support, but he was too busy pouring a pint of beer. 

“Chill, old girl. It was just a sip.”

“A fucking sip? You drank it all! That cost me a good few notes!”

“Woah, correct yourself, it costed Michael a good few stacks,” Trevor grinned at her, “Team effort, Mandy. Thank us.”

“Fuck you, Trevor.” You watched as Amanda refused to look in his direction.

“Maybe a few more shifts at the strip joint and you can afford the cheapest here.” He continued to torment her.

Mikey had distracted him before he could bully her too much and they all had an open discussion at the table. You ear-dropped their conversation and heard all sorts of ideas that consists of sexual imagery – most coming from Michael’s buddies – not Mikey himself.

“What’s wrong with sexy truth or dare?” Bradley seemed disappointed when his idea was turned down.

“Dude, it ain’t right. Why not a simple drinking game?”

“God… Amanda, what have you done to M? He’s a boring old prick now.”

“Shut up, Trevor. I’ve saved him from your psychotic ass!” And her backtalks were incredibly entertaining. It left you smiling giddily before Trevor caught your amusement, and he frowned. He didn’t like how you found joy in him being humiliated.

So you dropped your head and pretended to adjust your black dress, hoping to avoid any confrontation from this… Man. Somehow it made your stomach coil, not in a good way. These guys didn’t look as promising as Amanda painted them.

“I vote spin the bottle!” Brad announced.

“And what? Shots?”

“You know damn well, Mikey. How about kisses, blowjobs, handjobs?”

“Shut up, T.”

“Trevor’s right, dude.”

Michael groaned, “Shut up, Brad – Fuckin’ fine… Kisses then, but nothing else… Don’t be creepy, yeah?”

Your friends, including Amanda, seemed content with this game of spine the bottle, but you? Mixed feelings. You only just met these 2 guys and they are already demanding the group to participate in some high-school, drunk college game. You just knew that they had a rough idea to bring someone home, especially that one guy, Trevor.

Speaking of Trevor, he caught your sights again and smirked. You’ve noticed that he’s barely given any of the other girls attention. He didn’t even say hi or smiled at them – yet he seemed extremely curious about you. It felt dangerous.

“So we’ve got three chicks and three studs, yeah? Where’s a bottle we can use?” Brad inquired.

“Jesus, are you blind? Look around you, B. The table is filled with bottles.”

He responded to Trevor, “Shit man, they still have booze in them.” Both of them began looking around the table until they noticed your almost empty bottle. Bradley tilted his head and gave you a sickening grin.

“Are you gonna finish that, darl?”

You noticed Trevor wince at the pet name. He sent a glare to his friend and clenched his jaw.

“I – “ Feeling pressured, you just pushed the drink towards them, “No. You can, uh, have the rest.”

“Mmm… Thanks, babe.”

“Shut the fuck up, Bradley.” Your man of interest muttered before pouring the remainder of alcohol into a random glass.

Michael had rubbed his hands together in addition to the game beginning. He was sat beside Amanda, obviously making it known that they are two peas in a pod. It seems as they didn’t mind playing as an “unconfirmed” relationship, but you knew they wouldn’t take it as far as one kiss.

“Who’s going first?” Your other female friend asked.

It was getting late so the bar was slowly decreasing in population. Soon enough, you were the only table left behind. The jukebox was playing some late 80s rock and roll, a big throwback to the past. You listened to it through the background noise of Brad’s booming voice.

“I’ll go!”

He leaned forward and spun the bottle. Everyone watched with anticipation. You heart began beating. It was slowing and you gulped, thinking it was gonna land in you. Not wanting to kiss this man, you prayed to God. You sat tight and held your breath before it landed on Trevor.

The table began to laugh as Brad scowled with embarrassment.

“You fucking kidding me, bro?” He mumbled.

“Go on then!” Michael laughed, his arm around Mandy’s shoulder.

Trevor, unlike his friend, was smirking. He turned to face Bradley and gave him a mocking kissy face, waiting.

“T, stop it man. This is weird as fuck!”

“The longer you wait bro, the longer I’m gonna smooch the life outta ya.” He teased his buddy.  

This only made everyone laugh louder. You chuckled here and there until it all died down and Brad was left with no choice. He squeezed his eyes closed and speedily pecked Trevor’s lips. You saw it barely touched.

“Come on, man. You’re such a pussy.” T would roll his eyes.

“Shut up. Just… Carry on, goddammit!”

You were sat next to Brad, so it was your turn. Everyone looked over and gave you words of encouragement. You found the confidence to lean over the table and spin the bottle. You studied how fast it spun. Your heart was beating rapidly, you could feel your pulse breaking. It was nerve-wracking. The bottle was slowing down and it stopped. You followed it’s gaze and realised it pointed to your friend. She giggled.

Luckily it wasn’t… him.

“Ohhh…” He was the first to speak, “Mmm, I see how it is. Come on, ladies. Bring it on…”

You both ignored Trevor. Your friend adjusted her chair so she was facing you and held in a laugh. You did too. At least it was nothing awkward, more humorous. You decided to beat the clock and gave her a small kiss on the lips. She erupted in giggles, holding onto the table for support. The tension finally eased after your first go. It made you think this game wasn’t so bad.

“That was hot.” Murmured that raspy voice.

“Trevor, shut up. No creepy shit.”

“Whatever, Mikey. It’s your turn.”

Michael grumbled something you couldn’t hear and spun the bottle. He sipped his beer and waited for it to stop, and when it did, it was pointing at Bradley. The table was in hysterics.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” The blonde man was in disbelief, “I have to kiss another dude?”

“Just my luck, hm?” Mikey said to Amanda before she urged him to do it, for the games sake.

Trevor clapped his hands, oddly excited to see his two friends kiss in front of him. You’ve been observing him and the way his eyes lit up, them pupils dilating when the game proceeds. He was definitely aroused. You could tell.

“C’mon you guys!”

“Trevor, bro, just shut up!” Brad whined. He shook his head and leaned across the table, closer to Mikey who was also hesitant. They cringed before kissing for a split second and moving away from each other straight after.

You covered your mouth and chuckled.

“You are both fuckin’ pussies!” Trevor cried with distaste, “That weren’t even a fuckin’ kiss!”

Amanda rushed to her boyfriends rescue, “It’s your turn! Go!”

“Oh? You want some, Amand?” He grinned at her.

“Don’t be disgusting, Trevor.”

“Yeah, yeah. Fine, my turn.”

And then your heart only grew more unbearably nerved. His red, bruised hands spun that green bottle. He was right opposite you as well so you saw that concentrated stare in his rugged face. The way he leaned down to spin, some hair strands fell in his face, giving him a really pirated look…

He bit his lip and impatiently waited until it stopped.

You felt your whole body grow paraylsed. That neck, that tip of the damn bottle was facing you. It was just your luck, your VERY luck.

“Oh?” That cat-like smirk grew more perverted, “Look who it is, [y/n]…”

Looking into Trevor’s eyes felt like a Deathwish on it’s own. He was eye-fucking you so hard, it made you shiver. Them cold, dark, brown eyes. They were unmatched, so scary, so intimidating.

“I guess it is.” You slowly spelled out.

“How come Trevor gets the hot chic – “ Bradley’s face was suddenly muffled by Trevor’s hardened hands. He didn’t even look away from you though. He kept his sights fixated on you.

“You’re a lucky girl, [y/n].”

“If you say so.”

“I say so.” He murmured and stood up. His lean figure hovered over the table; his efforts to be closer. This was pressuring enough to make you meet him half-way, but when you tried, he was already pining you against your seat.

The group all watched as Trevor practically climbed over the table just to meet with you. Desperation depicted his sly grin. Them cruel fingers had wrapped themselves around your wrists, trapping you.

“You ready?” His voice purred in your ear.

“Oh my God, stop being a freak!” Amanda was disgusted. She exchanged glances with Michael who was equally as disturbed.

Trevor raised an eyebrow and gave her a side eye, “You wished Michael was this intense and romantic, Mandy. Don’t even start.”

“Excuse me? – “

“You heard me. Now shut up while I give [y/n] a kiss, yeah? That’s a great idea, ain’t it?”

Everyone was dead silent before he returned his attention to you and sighed in your neck.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Anyways, let’s continue the game, ay?” He licked his lips and stared down at yours.

His breath stunk of alcohol, weed, cigarettes, and… Weird metal? You didn’t even want to know. He was bizarre, completely out of your league! You’ve never seen a guy so unpredictable and manic. However, a part of you found it admirable. Inhaling deeply, you gave him what he wanted and kissed his lips.

For you, it lasted hours. Trevor kissed back with passion, his tongue wasting no time and forcing itself into your mouth. You thought to yourself for a brief second; it was only supposed to be a kiss? Why are you letting him passionately make out with you? Why are you enjoying it? At this point, he was properly pushing his weight onto your chair, his shoulders hiding you from everyone’s sights as his face was smashed against yours. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around them masculine shoulders and keep him close, your hands mindlessly tugging at his mullet until someone had separated you both from any further “activities.”

“Fucking Hell, T!” Michael pulled Trevor away from you, both your lips swollen and red.

“What?” He asked breathlessly, “We were just kissing?”

“Kissing? You were eating each other’s faces!”

“You wish you were me, Bradley.”

“Okay, okay, uhh! Can we just… Carry on with the game? From what I last remembered, it’s my turn.” Amanda tried her best to convert the awkward situation. She waited as Trevor walked back to his seat, a look of disappointment on his face after being separated from you.

She placed her cup down and spun the bottle. Michael was watched intently, clearly growing a bit nervous in case she had to kiss either Trev or Brad. He hoped it would be him.

“C’mon, c’mon…” He’d unconsciously hum out loud.

The bottle stopped and you bit into your tongue. It landed on you again.

Amanda chuckled softly and shrugged, “I’m thankful it’s you, [y/n], and not them two chumps.”

“Woah, watch your tongue!” Brad winked. She returned the wink. You had sensed some sort of tension between the two, and so did Michael. He looked at them both, his face growing angered.

You decided to step in and avoid any conflicts.

“Okay, I guess we have to kiss, Mandy.”

She glanced away from Bradley and nodded. You felt Trevor’s eager eyes as you two both kissed and giggled afterwards. Amanda kissed your cheek in a friendly manner before returning to the game.

You had made eye-contact with him again and he smirked. His lips were still swollen but this time, there was a predatory danger behind his pupils. He pointed to your black dress and made a sexual had gesture of a penis and pussy. Your cheeks grew red. The childish flirting actually made you flustered? What has this man done to you…

“Okay, I guess it’s my turn again.” Brad mused.

“Woah, woah – “ You interrupted, “You missed Michael. It’s his turn.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. Go ahead, Brad. I don’t care.”

“Too scared to kiss me, Mikey?” Trevor pouted playfully.

“If I kissed you, I’d catch STDs.”

“Mmm… Not from what I rememb – “

“Okay, Brad go.” Michael quickly disengaged his friend from confessing something that had quickly caught your undying attention. Not from what I remember? You smelt something fishy between them two, but decided not to ask any further questions considering the game was still playing.

Bradley spun the bottle and bounced up and down in his seat. He looked hopeful this time. He was had his fingers crossed.

“Strain anymore and you’re gonna shit yourself.” Your other friend joked, earning a small laugh from Michael.

“Don’t ruin my strive, girl.” He whispered and went wide-eyed when it stopped. The person it face was revealed to be Amanda, and Michael’s amusements fell into despair.

“What?”

“It’s just a kiss, Mikey.” Brad mentioned. It wasn’t helpful at how casual he felt about kissing his friends darling.

“No, not Mandy.” He refused.

“Let her have some fun – “

“Wait… You have the hots for her?” Michael was beginning to get more enraged, “Dude, that’s my fucking girlfriend! Amanda? What the fuck is this? Trevor, bro?” He looked at Trevor with pled.

“What? I don’t know what’s fuckin’ going on.” He huskily uttered from the opposite side of the table.

“Mikey, it’s nothin’! It’s just a kiss!”

“Bradley, I swear to fuck! – “

“Michael!” Amanda held onto his shirt, “Just sit down, please! You are overreacting.”

“Overreacting? Amand, he’s a fucking chump!”

You played around with the green bottle as the game was probably ruined now. Nonetheless, you looked at the clock and decided to leave sooner than later. Whispering to the other friend, you told her about leaving soon and she agreed. The three of them were still fighting; the tension growing, so you stood up and began to collect your things.

Trevor was daydreaming until he’s noticed you stand. He tilted his head and gave you a small frown.

“Where you going, [y/n]?”

You gave him a small smile, “I’m gonna go soon and catch a taxi home.”

“Nah, nah…” He immediately stood as well and rushed over, “Don’t leave me. Can I catch the taxi with you? I ain’t driving back with these pricks.”

“Where abouts do you live?”

“Uhh… I’m renting this motel room with the boys.”

You were holding your leather jacket before he grabbed it and placed it back onto your seat. He sounded more needy now.

“Don’t leave right now. We can sit in one of those booths at the back and get some drinks on, ay?”

“I’d love to, Trevor, but – “

“C’mon… Don’t leave, not after what happened,” He gave you a knowing smirk, “I don’t like pretty girls playing with my heart. I wanna… Get to know you more.”

And you knew exactly what he meant. From the way he was staring down at your dress, it was super clear what he was referring to. You were fluttered. You shouldn’t be though, from what you saw earlier, he was a nutjob.

But he was dashingly irresistible. You studied his facial features again and reintroduced yourself with his scars and classic 70s porno stache. Then you remembered the feeling of his mullet between your fingers. He had oddly soft hair despite the balding and split-ends. You didn’t want to admit it, but he was handsome.

“You like what you see?” He caught interest in your staring.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“Don’t apologise. I like it when you look at me.” Trevor whispered and stepped closer. He sneakily outstretched an arm to fit around your waist. He ogled your figure again before tugging you closer so your chests were touching. He had to look down (due to height difference), and he smirked.

“You’re a sexy piece of work. If them cunts didn’t stop me, your dress would’ve been ripped off by now.”

God damn, is what you thought. He was extremely bold and confident. It was too attractive.

“You like that idea?” He purred against your forehead.

Suddenly, the background noise of arguing had disappeared. You were too focussed on Trevor that your whole world, right there, revolved around him.

“Mhm…” You nodded.

“Atta girl. You know, from what I can see, you’d be the hottest on top of me.”

“On top?”

“Yeah, babe. Don’t think I can’t see that fire burning from beneath your eyes. You got that power, I felt it before, I wanna feel it again.”

“Oh God…” You exhaled, your stomach burning up with arousal.

“I’m gonna be honest, [y/n], I won’t make it back at my motel…” Trevor admitted with a grin. His free hand moved to his growing bulge, groping himself.

“Can’t you now?”

“Yeah, ma’am, I can’t.” He growled in your ear.

“Oh, you’re calling me ma’am now?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

You chuckled softly, “Nothing…”

“It sounded like you were complaining.” His grip around your waist tightened as he began moving you both towards the booths.

“I weren’t complaining.”

“Good,” Trevor lets go before jumping onto the leather seats and lying down, “C’mere…” He made grabby hands, his boner visible for you to see.

You hesitantly crawled onto his lap until he grabbed your hips, helping you get comfortable. You sat inches away from his boner and smiled down at him. He seemed to be enjoying your weight.

“Are they still fighting each other?” He’d lowly ask.

To answer his question, you peeked out of the booth and saw them still at each other’s throats.

“Yes, they are.”

“Goodio…” Trevor grabbed the straps of your dress and dragged it down your arms, your chest being exposed willingly. He’d giggle like a child when you were seen without a bra. Your tits were inches away from his face and he began licking the nipples.

You held in a whimper, “Are you sure they won’t see us?”

He didn’t respond. He ripped your dress off fully and yanked you so you were practically lying on him. Your breasts, already caked in his saliva, was suffocating his face as he licked and nibbled every ounce of your skin. The warmth of his tongue made you chew your inner mouth to restrain a moan.

“I knew you had a smashing body under that dress, I could sense it.” Trevor finally murmured, moving his way up your chest to your neck. He smothered your neck with hickeys and bite marks.

“Oh God…”

“You sound perfect, ma’am,” He pressed a kiss against your jaw before unzipping his flies, “I want you. I need you, so bad.”

You straightened your back and sat on his crotch as he freed himself from those jeans he wore. The moment you saw his cock, you traced your fingertip over his tip. Length never mattered to you, so it really didn’t surprise you when he wasn’t big. Trevor didn’t seem to care either – it was attractive.

“Say yes to me.” He pled, staring through his eyebrows.

“What happens if I say yes?” You decided to tease.

His dick twitched at your taunts.

“I want you to ride me, [y/n]. Ride me – “

“Manners?”

He groaned, “Whaaaaaat?”

“Did your mother not teach your manners?”

Sensitive topic, it made him wince and pout. Trevor stayed silent. You noticed how he refused to look at you in the eye. All his confidence dropped when you mentioned his mother. He just continued eye-fucking you and caressing your breasts.

“Trevor?” You broke the silence.

“[y/n],” The way he slurred your name, “Fucking ride me. I ain’t gonna ask twice.”

“But you already asked me twice…”

“You’re starting to piss me off, sugar. Don’t fuck with me.”

“You’re asking me to fuck you.” You pointed out. While in heat, you warmed up his erected cock with your hands. Whether you were prepared, Trevor arched his back and groaned heavily. You didn’t realise how sensitive he was, especially from a handjob.

“Oh, yes… Yes, I like that,” He panted, “Keep going, keep going!”

You grinned and used this for your advantage. He was vulnerable. You pretended to stroke his cock before raising your palm and slapping the tip.

His back arched in pain, “FUCK!” Trevor roared.

You did it again; seeing the same reaction.

“Fuck, oh yeah! OH, SHIT!” He was a hot mess. Every time you slapped his length, he’d only squirm and moan like no one else was in the room. Wrong. People were in the room, but you weren’t bothered anymore. Maybe this crazed guy was more fun than you thought. If only you knew how whiney he was before the game, you wouldn’t be too nervous around him then.

“Take your top off.” You ordered softly.

“Ah… Ah, uh?” Trevor glanced up, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, “My top?”

“Yes.”

He breathed in and out heavily. You had to help him take off his leather jacket and shirt as he was left shirtless, for your taste. He had a hairy chest, quite skinny but oddly muscular. However, the beers he had that day made his stomach bloated so you were greeted with a small, hairy pouch. You trailed your finger across it, using your nail, making him whine and whimper.

“Ohhhh, you’re fuckin’ with me…”

“You wanted me to.”

Trevor glared lustfully at you, “Jesus… You’re too fuckin’ hot, [y/n].”

“Just lie back. You wanted me to ride you, yeah?”

“Yes, yes, yes! I want, I want! I want! Gimme! – “

“Shush.” You pressed a finger against his wet lips.

Trevor raised an eyebrow but stayed quiet. Authority wasn’t his cup of tea, yet he seemed content to follow your commands. He scratched his stache before lying down and holding onto your hips, ready.

“I hope they see this though…” He’d cheekily oppose as you sat down onto his naked lap, his boner painfully fucking your clit.

You nibbled your bottom lip and closed your eyes. You grabbed his penis and used it to cause friction against your clit until you were both squirming against each other.

“Nah, stop… Stop fuckin’ edging me!”

“Easy… Easy…” You’d attempt to calm him. Trevor was growing breathless already. He was arching his back, grabbing the table, jerking his hips up; he was doing everything he could to resist your playfulness.

“Oh, fuck… Nah, do it, please. I won’t be able to last, [y/n].”

You took his words for granted and sat down, your crotches interacting. Once he was fully fucking your insides, volume didn’t seem like a boundary. You’d moan his name and begin to bounce.

“Oh! Yes, God, you’re so fuckin’ wet!” Trevor heaved and migrated his hands from your waist to your jiggling breasts. He squeezed them like a squish toy, making ungodly sounds, varying from grunts to outrageous gags.

“Trevor, ah!” You held onto his wrists and bounced faster.

“Ma’am, ma! – “

“Shit, fuck… Mhm…” His cock would bury itself deeper after he allowed you to dig into him. You couldn’t believe you were having sex with him, you just met him a few hours ago? Comparing his appearance from the second you met him, his mullet was draped in sweat, his dark eyes were dazed and unconscious, his stache was ruffled from the intense kissing. To cut it short, he was ruined.

And it was your fault.

“Yeah, yeah! Oh yeah!” Trevor whined, “C’mon! Give it to me! Your cunt is so fuckin’ sexy, oh yeah!”

You swore the room gotten more quiet as Trevor’s moans echoed. Nonetheless, you ignored it while riding him because the sensation was heavy. It felt like you needed to cum already. Your stomach was dominated with butterflies and Trevor’s cock was furiously twitching and pulsing.

You’d peer down at him with a honest, pleasured smile. Your tongue sat on your bottom lip until it was confirmed that you were climaxing.

“Oh fuck…”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum in your pussy!” Trevor – as per usual – was expressive. He kept you riding him as you both choked out some groans, your orgasm meeting with his. His dick loaded an impressive ton of cum inside your cunt, the spillage making you whimper his name.

“Shit, shit…” You breathed.

“More, more!”

“Oh God, okay.”

He sat up and stared at you with a perverted smirk.

“What?” You’d frown.

“Sit on my face.”

“Huh?”

Trevor used his strength and lifted you up from his lap and crawled under. You gasped when he was directly under your cum-soaked pussy. You felt his eyes stab Hell into it.

“Fuckin’ sit on me, [y/n]…” He growled, hands clasping your thighs.

The booth seats were rattling when you lowered yourself onto him. Trevor was still lying on the leather seats, forcing you to hover over his face. Of course, you used the table beside you for stability and in front of you was the whole bar. It was empty, calming your thoughts after the anxiety that more people would come by for a few beers.

“Gimme a piece of your fuckin’ cunt, ma’am.” Was the last thing Trevor muffled before stuffing his mouth into your abused pussy. His tongue, so unreally long, licked up the traces of his own semen after he had filled you up.

You squirmed and gripped onto the table. Your tits were hanging, his handprints marking red bruises all over your chest and neck (not forgetting the amount of hickeys).

“Oh, fuck…” You gulped and looked over your shoulder as you heard rubbing noises. Trevor was jacking himself off when face-fucking you. He was brutal. You watched him interrogate his poor cock like it was replaceable.

“Argh!” He muffled a cry in your cunt.

“Trevor, oh my! – “

You turned around again and went wide eyed when you noticed the group.

They were still there.

“Trevor, they are here – FUCK!” He dismissed your concerns by tongue-fucking you to death. You pathetically moaned, accidentally making eye-contact with Michael who was disturbed beyond belief.

They all grabbed their things and headed towards the exit. You watched in guilt, but at the same time, you were too aroused to care. You began to grind against Trevor’s mouth. His moustache had left rashes upon your thighs and flaps. It was burning hot, it was making you overstimulated – beautifully overstimulated. You wanted more to feel, more to cum to.

“Oh, yeah! Trevor!”

Bradley was the last to leave. Unlike the others, he smirked and gave you a wink. It was an uncomfortable gesture. He was as weird as Trevor, in that creepy way, and you knew when you finish and part ways, he’s going to get questioned about… Your “activities” that they had accidentally walked in to.

“Fuck! Oh yeah!”

You constantly looked over your shoulder to see him orgasming many times. There was a puddle of semen on his stomach. His sensitivity had made him cum when you sat on his face. He had cum when jacking off. He had cum to the thought and feeling of you. It was hard to hear him orgasm considering he was being strangled by your pussy, but in a way, you’d feel his tongue shake with anticipation.

“I- I’m gonna…” You pushed harder against him, “I’m gonna cum!”

Trevor was crawling under your skin, his tongue was torture to your poor cunt. He wasn’t gentle at all. He was beating you to a pimp until you came.

And it was a drastic, messy, unstainable orgasm.

“FUUUUCKK!” You sobbed and trembled.

He licked up the cum that drained into his mouth. He slurped, you heard this, and he slurped again, and again, and again.

“Oh… Oh, my God…”

Trevor’s tongue departed from your sex before pressing hot kisses in your inner thighs, freeing himself from between your legs. He gasped for the fresh air and stared up at you. There were drooled, white liquids oozing from his lips and chin. He grabbed your jaw and pulled your head down, kissing your lips. You tasted your own cum and moaned. Trevor passionately made love to your lips until he pulled away and ruffled up his mullet.

“You tasted like heaven on a golden platter, ma’am…” He giggled dazedly.

You followed the way he tangled up his hair and reached over, stroking it. You draped your fingers across his scalp.

“Mm…” Trevor murmured and closed his eyes, “That’s nice…”

“I like your hair.”

“Oh yeah? I like your tits.”

“Ahh…” You chuckled and felt him knead them with his bare palms again.

“And your pretty little face…”

“That was intense.”

He giggled, “Oh, you’ve seen nothin’ ye – “

“Trevor!” A loud voice interrupting your conversation. Brad was at the bar exit, his face bored, “Bro! C’mon! You finished your little fuck-fest. The fucking taxi is here, hurry up already!”

Trevor glared at Bradley as he crawled out of the booth, putting his cock away and throwing on his shirt again.

“Fuckin’ Bastard…” He whispered to no one in general before helping you zip up your dress and made you look… At least punctual when seeing the rest (who’s shamefully experienced your momentary sex).

“We were long.” You smiled.

“Yeah, but I wanted more time.”

“We will soon.”

Trevor winked and nudged you, “You bet your ass…”

You made your way out of the bar and was greeted with the uncomfortable atmosphere. Mikey was sending stares of Satan at Trevor while Amanda was biting her lips, trying to ignore what she saw.

“I’m here. Now what?” Trevor muttered grumpily.

“Excuse me, ma’am…” You went wide eyed when Brad used the term “ma’am”, almost tormenting you both, “Would you like a ride home with us?”

“Bradley, I swear to fuckin’ God, I’ll kill you.”

“I can’t believe you said ma’am during sex, bro!”

Trevor went to punch him until Michael held him back. He effortlessly held onto the collar of his jacket before the taxi finally arrived, and by then, you decided walking was safer than… A carpool with these heathens.

“You aren’t joining us?” Amanda asked, sitting in the front.

You shook your head.

“No, rephrase that… You ain’t coming?”

“Brad!” T shoved his friend into the car before crawling inside after him.

“Go say goodbye to your madam!

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You heard him scream, then he rolled down the windows and winked, “My motel room is down the main-road West… Show up any time, sugar.”

“Trevor, get your own room! We share that room!” Michael protested.

“Pussy…”

“[y/n], is Trevor’s dick small?” Brad tried to shout over the noise of the engine.

“FUCK OFF, CUNT!” Trevor battered him again.

“Jesus Christ… Get home safe, [y/n].” Mikey muttered before their taxi drove off, leaving you embarrassed, excited…

And fucking sore.

[tigertofu]

ok i've been chipping away at this Thing for a long time and i think it's finally ready to be vomitted out into the internet. without further ado, here is my

Stupid-Long List of Trevor Headcanons

divided into chronological sections !

((the NSFW shit is hiding at the bottom))

CW's for: mentions of drugs/alcohol, addiction, cannibalism, violence, gross sex stuff. typical Trevor things

and heres a gif of him cuz ig thats the tumblr thing to do idk i never made one of these lists b4 :x

the past

• he's a scorpio and the reason he has a scorpion tat on his hand is bc he's like. very mildly into horoscopes. he was born some time in november

• he doesn't have a middle name cuz his mom didn't give enough of a shit to give him one

• despite playing hockey and golf as a kid, he was never really that into the sports themselves. he only did hockey because he saw it as a way to beat up other children and not get reprimanded for it, and he did both in the hopes of being good enough at something to earn his mother's praise for once (it did not work :()

• hates his dad bc of how he treated his mom and is glad he abandoned him at that shopping mall when he was a kid

• he (w/ Brad's help) would play "pranks" on (aka BULLY) poor Lester during the north yankton days. some fav pastimes included (but were not limited to): pantsing him, hiding his walking cane, and replacing his asthma medication with laughing gas

• was highkey jealous of how easy Michael could get girls during the north yankton days. when he actually was able to convince a girl to come back home with him, he would make sure to be loud as hell about it so that Mike would know he wasn't the only one getting chicks

• all of his hand tats and a lot of his other tats were done in prison, even tho he was only in for like 6 months

• prison was a mixed bag for him. on one hand, anal. on the other, having to restrain himself from arguments and physical altercations so he could get out early on good behavior

• went thru a breakdancing phase in the 90's (i THINK this one might be canon. idk. could've sworn i've heard him try to tell Lamar this in an attempt to impress him. pls feel free to prove me wrong or right)

• one of the scars on his eyebrows is actually the result of getting a fresh eyebrow piercing ripped tf out during a barfight in the 00's. prob for the best that it was cuz we all know that shit wouldve ended up getting infected and rejecting out of his face anyways

• he moved to Sandy Shores not just because it's nice and isolated, but because it was the place most opposite of north yankton he could think of. never any snow. he absolutely fucking hates cold weather and snow because it reminds him of a certain bank heist that happened in '04

• between Ron, Chef, and Wade, Chef was the first one he met after moving to Sandy Shores. they used to cook meth together in a trailer out in the desert (another one that i THINK is canon but im not sure idk. it all blurs together, idk whats canon and whats not anymore, my brain is too rotted from spinning Trevor around in it like the world's most dried out little shriveled husk of a rotisserie chicken for the past three years, the fog is coming, yk how it is)

• he acquired Liquor Ace the same way he "acquired" the Vanilla Unicorn. the previous owner just mysteriously disappeared one day. nobody in Sandy Shores cared tho once word got around that the new owner was gonna start cooking crystal in the upstairs and selling it

• yk how in the game he said that his heart momentarily stopped once cuz he put an axe thru a power cable? he did that cuz the power had gone out in the middle of him watching an Impotent Rage episode he hadn't seen yet. for some reason (was prob very high and very angry) he thought that he could bring the power back by hitting the sparking wire with an axe. it didnt work. he smelled like overcooked bacon for a week afterwards. he enjoyed that part tho

the present

• he makes Ron cut his hair with a pair of rusty kitchen scissors when he needs a trim. he used to go to the nice barber lady in Sandy Shores but got banned after loudly moaning about how good her nails felt on his scalp once

• once smoked an entire cigarette in one long inhale. Wade witnessed this and found it extremely impressive

• he'll eat pretty much anything but he especially likes foods with strong flavors. salty, sour, super sweet, spicy, etc cuz his taste buds are SHOT from the years of smoking/drug abuse. he abuses condiments, especially hot sauce

• thinks that any restaurant that doesn't have a drive-thru is a "fancy" restaurant

• LOVES candy cuz the meth has given him a major sweet tooth, but prefers anything with chocolate over fruity/gummy candies

• has a weird fascination with eating raw meat.....of any kind. except for sushi. he thinks sushi is "fancy prissy city people food"

• also has a weird fascination with making stews/soups similar to the eyelid one that he tries to feed Michael in that one cutscene. it's the only type of food he knows how to cook. may be a comfort thing for him because microwaving a bowl of canned soup was the most effort his mother ever put into making a meal for him when he was a kid. and she did it like, twice, maybe. he for sure remembers both times very clearly tho and considers them to be some of his fondest memories

• will go for days without eating anything solid before finally sitting down and consuming enough food to feed a family of 5. sometimes he just like. forgets that eating is necessary for survival

• can open beer bottles with his teeth. between that and the meth habit, its an absolute miracle he still has all his teeth

• go-to pizza order is a large meat lover's. he tries to make vaguely sexual passes about "loving large meat" at the poor pizza delivery guys every time he orders delivery. does not tip, but will say shit like "hey, if you come inside i've got a little tip for ya" while the delivery guy quickly vacates the premises

• honestly? i think there is a good 50/50 chance on whether or not he is ACTUALLY a cannibal. maybe he posters as one cuz he likes the reactions it incites, maybe he genuinely enjoys the psychosexual intimacy of consuming the flesh of another human being........ who knows !! not knowing is half the fun :)

• ok ok hear me out u know that stupid tiktok sound that was going around a couple years ago that goes "hi my name is carmen winstead -- HAAAAAHHHGGCHH" ??? look it up if u don't cuz that's what his snoring sounds like. the fucking "HAAAAAHHHGGCHH"

• once he's asleep he is out like a fucking light. guy could sleep thru nuclear war

• is not opposed to drinking hand sanitizer when out of other sources of alcohol. it tastes just like the shitty moonshine Ron makes in his backyard anyways and gets him even drunker so why not !

• hates horror films bc they make him angry. at least, any of the ones where somebody survives at the end. thinks the murderers in them are stupid. starts yelling shit at the TV like "HE'S GETTING AWAY YOU STUPID FUCK,, WHAT ARE YOU DOING !!!!"

• believes baby pink and orange are "his colors"

• will sit on his sofa or bed and try to shoot any cockroaches scurrying around his place with a pistol for funsies when bored sometimes

• enjoys playing darts at the Yellow Jack with anyone who'll play him but absolutely fucking sucks at it cuz of his shaky hands. accidentally threw a dart into another bar patron's head once. will rage and insist his opponent cheated when he loses. will then get physical if anyone tries to tell him its impossible to cheat at darts. is much less of a sore loser when playing with Mike, Frank, or Lamar tho he will still grumble about losing for up to hours on end afterwards

• is an illegal immigrant bc he never became a US citizen. does not own an actual ID, but has several fakes lying around, all with fake birth dates and fake names that are wildly varying levels of believable

• will absolutely flip his fucking lid if Wade comes around him while wearing Juggalo face paint

• speaking of Wade. yk how he has a shitty tattoo of his own name on his arm? (at least i think he does. i tried looking to see if he does and i couldnt tell so now im unsure if thats just yet another detail that my brain completely made up or smth that i actually saw). ANYWAYS, Trevor gave it to him (stick n poke. it was a longggg process but Wade didnt mind too much cuz he was high at the time and consented to it beforehands anyways) when Trevor first "took him in" cuz he kept forgetting his name and got tired of referring to him as "Hey, you" (which Wade did not respond to most of the time anyways)

• is an ugly crier. like, a butt-ugly crier. snot, drooling, wailing, red face, the whole nine yards and he is loud as hell about it too

• loves back rubs cuz ofc he does he's an old man. often makes Ron or Wade give him massages

• his boomer-ass super-zoomed-in LifeInvader profile pic was taken by Ron. it took them a dozen tries before they got it

nsfw

• he sucks at eating out.........kinda? but what he lacks in precision and consistency he makes up for with sheer (sloppy. slobbery) passion. and endurance. can stay down there (and will, if you let him) for hours

• is not much better at blowing. "accidentally" uses too much teeth every time

• ~4 inches. MAYBE 4.5. good girth tho. not cut

• has a thing for chubby/thicc ppl

• is a biter and won't ask before biting so uhh watch out ! part of the reason for the above is bc there's more to bite

• loooooves loves loves to suck on things. fingers, necks, tits, dicks, anything. also looooooves having it reciprocated. particularly likes shoving his fingers in your mouth

• loves to involve mouths as much as possible. spitting/being spat on, the aforementioned biting as well as being bitten, eating food off of your body or having food eaten off of him, the type of makeout sessions that involve shoving each other's tongues down each other's throats.. anything that involves mouths and/or the motions of eating drives him fucking wild

• will beg you even when not explicitly told to when he's not feeling dominant. will beg and beg and beg and beg and it's hot but can also quickly become incredibly annoying

• but he LOVES to be annoying on purpose too. via the begging, or by teasing/edging, mocking, etc. loves to get a rise out of you and loves the attention (even if negative.. ESPECIALLY if negative) it gets him

• occasionally cries after sex. will expect you to hold him while he does. will start to angry cry and say you don't actually love him if you refuse

• now ik this one is nothing groundbreaking and seems to already be the general consensus amongst the Trevor enjoyers but im gonna say it anyways. he def has a thing for public/semi-public sex. be careful about sitting next to him while in any public space. he WILL try to touch on you and it WILL be in a way that makes it obvious to everyone in the immediate vicinity what's going on. does he do it on purpose as an exhibition thing? maybe...... does he genuinely think he's being slick about it? also maybe. if ur with him, expect to be banned from multiple establishments

• lowkey has a breeding kink in the sense that he loves to finish inside (not just bc it feels nice but also bc of the intimacy of it) and thinks that pregnant women are hot as hell

• is most likely infertile due to the years of meth use tho

• loves to both overstimulate and be overstimulated. just bc you've both climaxed doesnt mean he wont keep going for god-knows-how-long

..................andd that's all she (i) wrote. ty for reading !! i've got more shit to say about Trevor cuz ofc i do but this is already like 2k words so if u wanna hear my headcanons on anything specific at all,, pls do throw it in my ask box ! <33

[tigertofu]

💌 = ao3 | 💞 = mild nsfw | 💗 = explicit smut |❓ = requested

18+ only ! minors DNI.

please heed the tags on my ao3 fics !

❀ longfics ❀

A Toxic Strain | E | Trevor/Female OC | 220k words, complete 💌💗

After a territory dispute with dispensary owner Franklin Clinton, 23-year-old Kacie Ocampo is coerced into abandoning her simple life of slinging dime bags of homegrown weed on Vespucci Beach and relocating to Sandy Shores to work for a violent, unpredictable criminal: Trevor Philips. A storm of conflicting emotions brews within Kacie as she falls victim to Trevor's manipulation while also harboring intense feelings of attraction to him - a storm that threatens her senses of morality and rationality with obliteration. She finds herself dragged into increasingly dangerous situations as Trevor tangles with a vengeful gang of bikers, his own mental instability, and a past that he refuses to let go of.

-----

Growing Pains | E | Trevor/Female OC | 230k words, complete 💌💗

Kacie and Trevor's first few months as a couple have passed by in a hedonistic haze of sex, drugs, and petty crime. A toxic codependency has taken root, and neither of them have even tried to mitigate its growth. Trevor is more than happy to have an unlimited source of affection and attention, and so long as she's having fun with him, Kacie cares about little else. But a series of bad choices - some made by her, some made by him - may be enough to make things decidedly unfun.

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Burning in Heaven | E | Trevor/Female OC | 34k words, WIP 💌💗

After starting a new life together in their totally–legally–obtained home in Rockford Hills, Kacie and Trevor are hard at work finding their footing in Los Santos. Getting Trevor’s new lifestyle coaching career off the ground has turned out to be no small feat, and the couple have turned to more familiar ways of squeezing profit from the city’s scores of drug–addicted citizens in the meantime. Though their work is challenging, more strenuous problems arise. Their relationship has finally levelled out into their own twisted (yet mostly happy) version of domestic bliss, but as an old flame is reignited and a new one is set, their peace is threatened by more than just the dangers of Los Santos’ criminal underbelly.

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Handsome in an Ugly Way | E | Trevor/Fem!Reader | 27k words, WIP 💌💗

You're a clerk at a liquor store in Sandy Shores. The job is mind-numbingly boring and most of the customers are assholes. But one customer, the biggest asshole of them all, has caught your eye. And on one particular night, he notices you looking at him.

❀ headcanon lists ❀

my stupid-long list of general trevor headcanons 💞

trevor w/ pregnant fem!reader & their baby 💞❓

north yankton trevor w/ photographer fem!reader 💞❓

general north yankton era headcanons about trevor, michael, and brad ❓

trevor as a husband and father ❓

hate to love w/ fem!reader & north yankton era trevor 💞❓

north yankton trevor w/ a goth fem!reader 💗❓

❀ oneshots/short fics ❀

fem!reader meeting & hooking up w/ trevor 💗

north yankton trevor meeting & falling for fem!reader who is into boxing 💞❓

post ending-b trevor/fem!reader who reminds him of michael 💌❓

sandy shores exhile era trevor/michael 💌

fem!reader surprises trevor in lingerie 💌💗

chubby and shy fem!reader/trevor 💗❓️(+ separate ao3 link)

[tigertofu]

Hello! Hope you are doing well! Super cool that you’re taking requests now, I have a prompt if you’d like to use it :)

Trevor as a dad! Could be headcannons about how he is as a father, how he acts during the 9 months, how he is during delivery, finding out reader is pregnant, etc. Excited to see your take on this scenario!

im doing well and i hope u are too <33 !! and ty for the request ! i've actually never thought much abt what trev would be like as a dad 🤔 so this was fun to come up with X))

pairing: fem reader/Trevor

summary: headcanon list of how Trevor would be during his partner's pregnancy and how he would be with a baby.

cw's: mentions of sex

wordcount: 1,174

• when you first tell him that you’re pregnant, he’ll be completely dumbfounded (despite his dislike for condoms and tendency to fuck rough enough to sometimes break condoms, anyways). he’s always thought he’d make an incredible father, but once he finds out that he’s actually going to be one? utter shock. it’s a good shock, though, and once it wears off he’ll give you the biggest bear hug ever, pick you up, spin you around, and absolutely cover you in manic kisses.

• he’ll watch you like a fucking hawk throughout the whole pregnancy. he won’t let you go out in public unless he’s with you, “just in case” (if you ask him, “in case of what?” he’ll ominously say “in case of anything” as if it’s obvious what he’s referring to).

• get ready to be completely smothered with attention and over–protectiveness. tensions may sometimes rise. you’ll be stressed about the whole growing another human inside of you thing, and he’ll be constantly on high–alert for anything/one that may do you harm, so he will get unfairly snippy with you more than once.

• he has good intentions though, and he’ll use every ounce of self–restraint to prevent these little tiffs from devolving into full–blown arguments because he’ll understand that stress is bad for the baby. despite all this, he may inadvertently do some things that aren’t conducive to a healthy pregnancy. like trying to light up a cigarette or his pipe while you’re sitting right next to him. remind him it’s bad for the baby enough times and he’ll start to remember to step outside to smoke, though. 

• he’ll be unable to keep his hands off you during the pregnancy. every single day, he’ll take a moment to press an ear against your stomach, trying to listen for a heartbeat or feel the baby moving around. he might get impatient over this when it doesn’t happen as soon as he expects. but once he does finally hear or feel it for the first time, he’ll (loudly and kinda pathetically but still adorably) cry of happiness.

• sex will be even more frequent than it was pre–pregnancy, if you’re up for it.

• constant handholding while in public together will become a must. he’ll want everyone to know that you’re his and that it’s his baby you’re carrying. just knowing that you two will soon be a little family of three will make him insanely proud. he’ll be sure to mention that you’re expecting every single chance he gets, to literally anybody you interact with, no matter how irrelevant/inappropriate it is to any given conversation.  

• the day of the delivery can go either one of two ways. if you go to a hospital, things might get a bit not–great. he’ll stay glued to your side and regard any poor nurse or doctor who comes into the room with a scowl and intense suspicion. he’ll demand an excruciatingly in–depth explanation of every single procedure they do on you. fights with healthcare professionals may or may not happen. if they do, he’ll probably get carted out by security (after a struggle that may or may not result in the costs of broken medical equipment getting added on to your final bill). then somehow sneak his way back into your room not an hour later. don’t worry, they’ll eventually give up on trying to throw him out.

• things will probably be a lot easier if you have a homebirth with the help of a midwife (depending on the patience of the midwife and whether or not Trevor decides to tidy up his place before the delivery.)

• wherever you have the baby, he’ll insist on being involved throughout the entire birth. you can hold his hand and squeeze as hard as you want to. he’ll constantly give you words of encouragement.

• if you let him, he will also take interest in (closely) watching the actual moment of birth itself. he obviously isn’t squeamish, and he’ll insist on his face being the first thing the baby sees as it enters the world so that he can “imprint on them and they'll know who their dad is” (try to tell him you don’t think that’s how it works and he’ll vehemently disagree.)

• while you’re recovering from the birth, he’ll dote on you 24/7. he’ll ask you a million times per day if there’s anything, anything at all, he can do or get for you and the baby. most of his time will be spent right by your side, but he may sometimes get extremely irritated by the baby’s frequent crying. he’ll take a moment to have some alone time outside when this happens, probably just to pace around and punch a tree or an unlucky passerby, though. then it’s right back to snuggling and fawning over the baby once he’s blown off some steam.

• no matter what the baby’s sex is, he’ll ask if you can name it Trevor Jr. he’ll let the naming be ultimately up to you, though.

• limiting the amount of time the baby is left alone with him will directly increase their chance of surviving past infancy. not because Trevor would ever do anything harmful to them on purpose, but because he isn’t the most well-versed in what objects/food/substances are appropriate or not for a baby to interact with. he’ll try feeding them solid food the day after they're born; probably meat of some kind so they’ll “grow big and strong.”

• if you decide to breastfeed, expect him to over–eagerly and constantly ask if he can help with pumping or if you want a breast massage. he will also definitely ask, at least once, if he “can have a taste.”

• he’ll absolutely love to spend time with the baby, when he’s in the right mood, which will be more often than not. he’ll lay down and have them sleep on his chest. he’ll intensely stare at them while they sleep with an expression that looks like something halfway between mild disbelief and annoyance. but he’s really just in awe that you and him have made an entire other human being together. he’ll love to let them hold onto his fingers with that, like, automatic grabby fist that babies do. 

• he’ll talk to the baby a lot. Trevor loves to talk about himself, and now that he has someone who can’t tell him to shut up, or tell him that he’s fucking insane, or question whether or not his stories are real? perfect. he won’t talk to them like they’re a baby; he’ll treat them as if they understand every word he’s saying. definitely for the best that they actually won’t though because he’ll recount some very gorey stories about his past escapades.

• however, he’ll also frequently tell them that they are the most badass, most handsome/beautiful, smartest, strongest baby ever. he'll constantly give them kisses and gently poke at their chubby cheeks. despite all his shortcomings, he’ll be a very loving and protective father.

[tigertofu]

Hate to love headcanon between a fem!reader and North Yankton Trevor :)

fuck ya love the whole hate to love thing sm 😭 ...... also im sorry i struggle at making headcanon lists that are just pure n simple LISTS as they should be w/out slipping in some form of narrative sometimes and this prompt just lends itself to a story so well..... so this is some sort of half fic/half headcanon list monster. but hey this was rlly fun to write !!! ty as always for requesting 💞💞

pairing: fem reader/Trevor

summary: headcanons/short fic thing about a hate to love relationship between reader and North Yankton Trevor.

cw's: mentions of sex, alcohol

wordcount: 1,714

for narrative’s sake, let’s say that you are a small–time criminal in one of the many little podunk towns of North Yankton. one day, you catch wind of a new crew that’s set up in the area. four guys: a computer–hacking tech whiz of some sort; a big lug of a brute with a penchant for starting unnecessary barfights; a smaller, scrappier brute who’s already sniffed out and either done business with or scared off all the drug peddlers in town; and a stern ringleader who only barely manages to control his anger issues better than the others.

unbeknownst to you though, this crew has also caught wind of you. and one night, as you’re trudging through the snow to your shitty little studio apartment from the grocery store, a car pulls up alongside you and the window rolls down. the driver introduces himself as Michael. he tells you he’s heard about you; heard about how you’re one of the better thieves in the county. he tells you he’s got work for you, if you’ll take it. and ever the opportunist, you do.

a week later, you head out to meet the rest of the men you’ll be working with. they’re currently squatting in an old, abandoned hunting cabin out in the woods that border town. as you sit down for beers and talk with Michael and the computer guy—who introduces himself as Lester—you get a brief rundown of the crew’s history. they hit banks. this tends to cause a stir, so they’re almost always on the run; they landed in their current safehouse just two weeks before. while Lester and Michael cook up plans for the bigger, more dangerous heists, they make a living off of smaller endeavors. holding up gas stations, gutting truck shipments of electronics that Lester then sells off, sticking up gas stations and liquor stores. this is where you come in: there’s a well–to–do pawn shop in town, and Michael wants to hit it. but the people in your town are weary of outsiders, and the heat from the crew’s last bank job hasn’t died down yet. Michael wants you to go in and case the joint for them and, if you’re up to it, help them hit it.

right after you agree (so long’s you get a fair cut of the profits), the wooden door to the cabin slams open. two men stumble in. their faces are red from the cold and, when they get within your smelling range, you realize from booze, too. one’s tall, built like a truck, blond; the other’s got the scraggly, dark brown ends of a mullet peeking out from the edges of his askew trapper hat. there’s something animalistic in his eyes and in his drunken smirk and when he turns his gaze on you, you realize that despite his disheveled everything, he’s actually quite handsome. and you feel Something. a spark or a pang in your chest.

but then he turns to Michael and slurs, “If we’d’ve known you were getting a call girl tonight, Brad and I wouldn’t’ve stayed out so long!” and that Something instantly snuffs out as you now glare at the man with the mullet. you tell him you aren’t a fucking call girl as Michael lets out an exasperated huff and says “Shut the fuck up, Trevor.” but this Trevor guy has seemingly taken a liking to you. he saunters up to you, wavering on his feet, smirking like a cat with a mouse. asks you if you’re sure you don’t wanna make a bit of money tonight, ‘cuz he’s feeling awful lonely and you’re just a real pretty thing. you roll your eyes, tell Michael to keep in contact with you, and make your leave. you slam the door of the cabin shut on Trevor’s pleas to stick around and have some fun.

as you periodically meet up with Michael’s crew over the course of the next few weeks, your mild distaste for Trevor deepens to downright hate. sure, you think he’s attractive and you find some of his obscene jokes and observations funny, but mostly you just find them disgusting. every time he sees you he tries to coax you into bed with him, or convince you into a quickie in the car, or offers you a hit off his well-loved meth pipe, or asks you out on a date to the local tavern. you decline him every time, each “no” growing firmer and snappier. you don’t know why he makes you so mad. maybe it’s because if only he wasn’t so fucking annoying, you’d have fucked him by now.

the pawn shop heist goes well. so well, in fact, that Michael decides to keep you on for their next job: hitting a electronics store in a town a couple hours’ drive away. he sends you and Trevor alone to scope the place out. at some point during the drive, an argument erupts. Trevor asks you why you hate him. you tell him because. he asks what "because" means. you lose your temper, wondering why he chose to have this conversation now of all times, as you’re driving down an empty country lane through a nighttime snow flurry. you put on the brakes and park up on the side of the road and yell at him that you hate him because he’s disgusting, he’s pushy, and he drives you fucking crazy. as you catch your breath from your tirade, he is ominously silent. and then, in a low rumble that makes you feel things you wish it didn’t, he tells you that you drive him crazy, too. 

you kiss him for the first time then and there, if only to get him to shut up. you fuck him for the first time then and there, too. an intense mix of hatred and lust that you’ve never felt before makes it rough going. while he’s got you twisted into a pretzel in the back of the car, fucking you like an animal, he keeps trying to praise you: telling you’re pretty when you’re mad, that he knew you had nice tits, etc etc while you keep snarling at him to shut the fuck up. 

it’s good though, and addictive. from that day onwards, all your fights lead to angry sex. if you two start arguing in front of the others, you will both “disappear” soon after the yelling stops. if you two start arguing when alone—which starts to happen more frequently because, despite butting heads, you start to be okay with him showing up at your place unannounced—the spat will turn mid–fight into fucking. 

at first, you insist on parting ways immediately after both of you are re-clothed. but then one night, after having sex in your bed, Trevor doesn’t get up to leave right after. he lays beside you, one arm slung over your bare stomach, his head face down in your pillow. and for some reason, you don’t try to push him out of your bed. 

eventually, post–coital cuddling joins the mix. at first it feels wrong and gross. you haven’t quite gotten used to the various bad smells that usually cling to Trevor. but there’s something comforting about being in the arms of someone and having your arms around them after the intense emotional releases of an argument and fast, desperate sex. 

he starts to stick around for long after you’ve both had your more physical needs fulfilled. you start to engage him in non–shouting conversation; start to get to know more about him. and then one day when he comes over, and there isn’t any arguments at all. just talking, drinking beers, and the slowest—which is still rough by most people’s standards—sex you two have had yet. he has a habit of sputtering out frantic “I love you”’s during sex, and it’s always annoyed and repulsed you. but this time is different. you tell him you love him to as you feel him finish inside of you. 

as soon as your feelings are made known, he starts to relentlessly tease you. "Oh, but I thought you hated my guts!" he'll tease you about this so much that you'll start to actually hate his guts again during these moments when he pesters you.

for a few wonderful months, whatever is going between you two turns into a relationship. there isn’t much work for Trevor to do during this time, aside from prepping for some vague, big heist that Michael has cooked up for the crew. 

by now, the other guys have long figured out what’s going on between you two. Brad frequently teases Trevor about it. Michael says he doesn’t care who fucks who, so long’s it doesn’t get in the way of your guys’ criminal careers. and it doesn’t. things go well, until—

eventually the day of Michael's big heist he's been talking up comes around. they're robbing a cash depot in town. you aren’t there for it; banks are a bit more dangerous than the marks you’re comfortable with robbing. Michael knows this and insists you sit this one out. but Trevor promises to swing by your place to lay low for a bit after the deed is done. all day you look forward to it, waiting for him to show up at your door with a big, manic grin on his face, ready to celebrate with drinks and a night in together. but then the time that he told you he’d show up at comes and goes. and then hours pass. night falls, and there’s still no sign of Trevor. you try calling him, but there’s no answer. as you lay in your bed alone that night, unable to sleep, you think that maybe the cash depot heist didn’t go according to plan and the boys had to skip town ASAP. you aren’t too worried, though. you know that Trevor can handle himself and you knew from the get–go that Michael’s crew is one that doesn’t like to stay stationary, so this was bound to happen eventually. so it’s not worry that keeps you awake until the early morning of the next day: it’s a bittersweet gratefulness for what little time you did get to spend with Trevor, and some slight regret that you hadn’t stopped hating him sooner. 

[tigertofu]

NSFW headcanons with a goth reader and North Yankton Trevor??

(Highly specific so you can ignore this if you want lol)

oooh i'd be more than happy to 🖤!!

pairing: fem reader/Trevor

summary: some nsfw headcanons about North Yankton era Trevvy w/ a goth Reader

cw's: shmut

wordcount: 457

• he’ll ask you to give him a makeup look like you usually wear for funsies (currently dying inside imagining him in a full face of like. trad goth makeup LMAO). though he is interested in the whole goth thing (because he considers himself very counterculture and also was big into the punk scene when he was younger and some goth subsections are…punk–adjacent….??) there’ll be an ulterior motive for asking you to do his makeup tho: CLOSE physical contact. eye contact. palpable tension…… before you’ve even gotten the first layer of eyeshadow on him, he's smashing his mouth against yours.

• he'll regularly ask him to do his makeup, not just because of the makeup-to-eating-face pipeline but also cuz we all know trevor isn't afraid to explore a more feminine aesthetic. and of course how could you deny him?? like i'm thinking about it rn and i have decided he would be hot as hell with some eyeliner. imagine that shit getting sweated off during some intense fucking. good lord

• Things will start to mysteriously go missing from your wardrobe… a pair of fishnets here, a garterbelt there. you’ll chalk it up to them getting lost in whatever vortex it is that missing socks go to and never return from. until one day, Trevor comes over with a “surprise.” you have no idea what this surprise is because he’s shown up emptyhanded. but then when you two go to the bedroom, you find out that underneath his winter jacket and dirty jeans he’s wearing your “missing” panties, fishnets, bra, and garterbelt. depending on your reaction, he’ll play this game again over and over. TREVOR. IN. LACY BLACK. LINGERIE. >>>>>>>>>

• if you ask him to go out to a goth club with you, he definitely will. he might make some other patrons angry with some offhand comments (“I’ve never seen so many corpses at once”......”Hey, Dracula! If you want some sucky–sucky later, come find me”). but it’ll be fun. after several drinks, he’ll pull you into a booth in the darkest corner of the club and start to feel you up. muttering drunkenly in your ear that you’re the hottest thing in this club as his hand inches up your thigh and his other grabs at your tit. of course, the two of you will get tossed out when you start fondling him back and he starts making those loud, about-to-cum-in-his pants sounds. he might start something with the security (“Hey, hey, what’s the big fucking problem?! I thought freaks were welcome here!”). queu a desperate quickie in your car in the parking lot directly afterwards that’ll leave your makeup running and your favorite top ripped to shreds and the backseat of slick with sweat and cum

[tigertofu]

felt like writing smth abt Trevor being creepy so........ here we are

short little T/reader NSFW thing under the cut

((if ur looking at this on desktop the paragraphs may appear outta order im srry idk how to fix it :x ))

~~~

maybe it’s in a dark alleyway in the guts of downtown LS, amidst overflowing dumpsters. maybe it’s in the back of a seedy, crowded bar in Blaine County full of drunk men who’d turn a blind eye. maybe it’s out in the wilderness of the Grand Senora, no witnesses around but the saguaro and the boulders. but he approaches you and the second you lay eyes on the self–confident way he sidles up to you, a little off–kilter on his feet and smirking like he’s already gotten what he wants, you know you’re not going to be able to say “no” to this stranger.  

the smells of spilled booze and unwashed skin and ammonia wash over you as he leans in close and asks, in a rolling purr that you can tell he thinks is the definition of charming (and you think it is, too, though you know you shouldn’t), what a thing like you is doing in a place like this. the question makes you feel especially small and vulnerable and that, in itself, is exciting in a concerning way. it doesn’t matter how you answer. whatever you try to say, he’ll interrupt it with the statement that you look like someone who could use some fun. 

he introduces himself as Uncle T. the nickname makes you wrinkle your nose, half in disgust and half in amusement. he looks the very definition of "creepy," watching you a bit too closely for comfort as you weigh out his proposition. he’s wavering on his scuffed workboots, his hands are twitching, his eyes ricocheting from your face down the length of your body and back again. you realize he’s a bit drunk or a bit high or maybe—probably—both. but you don’t back away from him. he takes it as a sign to get closer to you, and you let him. alarm bells are going off in your head, but you ignore them. you let him trace your jawline with curled fingers marred with picking scars. he murmurs what you’re too afraid to say: yeah. yeah, yeah, yeah. you’re down for a little fun. 

he grabs up one of your hands and you find that you really like the way his hand swallows up yours. his palm is rough with callouses but warm. you ask where he’s taking you. he says somewhere private. you wonder if “fun” means strangling you and leaving you dead because he looks the type to kill random folks for shits and giggles. the alarm bells are screaming now. still, you traipse after him.

you find it hard to keep up with his lurching gait as he tugs you away. maybe to the rusted bed of his truck, maybe to the dirt parking lot of the bar, maybe deeper into the alleyway. whatever the sordid destination, once you reach it, he works you over easily. he comments on how lucky he is to have found such an eager new friend, petting your face in that oddly tender way again, pinning you to your spot with those blown–out pupils. 

he kisses you like he knows you. like you’ve been together for a long while, like you haven’t just met each other. you kiss him back, even though he tastes of alcohol and stale tobacco and meth. he grabs at you as if he’s done it before. he groans and pants against your mouth that he loves you as the kisses turn into something more. he loves you so very, very much. you get the feeling that he’s trying to create a sense of intimacy that doesn’t exist between you two. you let him, because there’s a subtle brokenness to the urgency of his kisses that tells you he rarely gets to feel any sort of intimacy that goes beyond purely sexual. 

he murmurs more filth as you find the courage to touch him back. your stomach thrums with trepidation and excitement as you discover that underneath his dirty, baggy clothes his body is warm and strong. “look at you,” he muses, sounding oddly proud. 

what comes next comes in a blur. you’re thankful it does, because you know that if he slows down for even a second you would have time to consider just how wrong and dirty it is to be bent over and fucked by a man you don’t know and your shame would outgrow your excitement and you’d run away like you know you should. but it’s quick and it hurts in an unbearably good way. 

he’s loud the whole time. he makes high–pitched whimpers in the back of his throat as he shoves himself into you and immediately adopts a savage pace. he calls you pet names because he doesn’t know your actual name: “sugar” and “darling” and “sweetheart.” he keeps referring to himself in third person, his voice as uncontrolled as the tempo of his hips: “you’re being so good for Uncle T.” his broken fingernails feel like claws digging into your flesh, holding you in place for him. you tell him, in a weak voice, that it feels good and not to stop because you can already feel yourself approaching an explosive finish just a few minutes into it. it all feels too wrong to not feel right. 

he bucks up into you and keeps himself buried there before you can reach your climax, though. you feel him pulsate repeatedly. his breath is hot on your neck as he holds you close with shaking grips. he whines that he loves you over and over again as he finishes. 

 as you both catch your breaths while he softens inside of you, an odd tenderness envelops the both of you. it doesn’t feel odd in a bad way. maybe in an eerily nice way: like seeing the moon in a daytime sky. 

he kisses you again as he rights himself and roughly pulls your bottoms up for you. he tells you in a happy, boyish way, that that was “a lotta fun.” he gives you his number and tells you to call him if you ever want more. you wish it wasn’t so dark so that you could see more of his face. 

he saunters off, self–satisfied. and as you watch him, you know that you’ll definitely be giving him a call in the near–future, even though you know you shouldn’t.