Nan

“—c’mon sweet girl, I know you got one more f’me.”

Knees pressed up against your chest, folded in half like a pretzel while one of Steve’s hands holds your legs in place and the other fucks into you brutally. Thumb circling and pressing onto your abused nub, spurring you on to jerk upwards.

“There she is, there’s my good girl. Daddy makin’ you feel good hm?” He cooed breathily, all flushed cheeks and sweaty tendrils of hair sticking to his face. God he’s a vision. Fuller cheeks and heavier set than the pictures of him that scattered around the apartment indicated.

He’s so manly. Gut, tits and all.

“U-uh-huum, fuck,” you whine, eyes screwing shut and back arching off the bed, “you-ah— you always make m’feel good Daddy.”

His fingers yank out of your pulsing hole, ripping another whine from you and subsequently denying you the release that was oh so close, “oh so now we like Daddy, hm? Should let you sit here all soaked and needy after the stunt you pulled earlier.”

The playful lilt of his voice brings you back to earlier at how you even ended up in this situation.

It was a slow night at The Hideout, as always was the case on Tuesdays when Trivia, Bingo or a band weren’t on. A manager always needed to be on, (lest Eddie go on a tirade about his staff getting abused again — it was one time) and since supervisors also have to be rostered on closes; the night time rotation was you, Steve and Roxy.

No one had come in for 25 minutes so you sat at the far end of the bar with a cosmopolitan magazine while the other two chatted and messed around to pass the time. It was lucky Steve was so charismatic with the other staff because it meant that the companies best kept secret would stay that way — a secret.

That most nights after a close you’re stowing away in your managers beat-up pick up to have the most mind blowing sex with said manager. The manager who was about to turn forty next month and that made him precisely 17 years your senior.

Weird, it was weird. Super weird.

Easier to keep that under wraps than to explain to anyone who cared how or why there was attraction there. Steve is an easy guy to be attracted to, great hair, great personality, great body, even now if it was covered by one of his stupid fucking slogan shirts. Today's said 'Blink if you want me' and you'd made a concerted effort to not engage lest you blow this secret out of the water by making fuck-me eyes at him all day.

You still do that but you just make them across the bar while watching him play games with coasters and bottle caps to entertain Roxy. “Oh yeah, that’s right, come to daddy.” He has that playful tone, but the word sends you into another dimension almost.

Roxy pulls a face and immediately loses interest in the game, “gross! Don’t talk about yourself in third person, yuck.”

Coolly, you lift your head and barely raise your eyes to look at either of them deadpan, “that’s what you got from that? The third person reference and not ‘Daddy’?” It was a little on the nose, really, but he started it by saying it outside of the bedroom and you were always a little too good at psychological warfare.

“Everybody loves Daddy,” he defends with a shit eating grin, eyes dropping down to so obviously check you out. He’s getting cocky.

Asshole.

You pull a face, “eugh, as if.” And returned to the magazine without incident.

That attitude, the act of pretending like you weren’t completely obsessed with this man was why you’re being folded in half, pussy squeezing around nothing while Steve slowly tortures you to complete madness.

Though he 'd stopped completely, laid your legs back down and held a hand up to cup the side of your face, “hey, sweetheart — you with me?” Just like that, he can be sweet, dirty, sour and everything in between. He’s seen the faraway look in your eyes and waits for the moment to pass where you’re present.

“Sorry,” you mumble, nudging against his hand, “I’m here. I’m okay.”

“Where’d you go?” His thumb brushes over the apple of your cheek, tracing the contours of your face before resting by your lower lip. He asks because he wants to know, but you’ve disrupted the flow of the moment enough and simply answer by parting your lips for his thumb.

Dropping his head with a groan, his salt and pepper hair flops with it, “that,” he grinds against you, “isn’t an answer, sweet girl.”

You suck his thumb harder, biting down on it gently, urgently while you paw at his pillowy gut for him. “Wan’chu Da’ddy,” against his thumb gets jumbled up and barely a proper sentence but he understands enough to groan again.

“Needy thing,” he tsks, dropping down to kiss along your cheek, pulling his thumb out of your mouth, smearing your own drool all over your lips. The sensation makes your hips buck up, desperate for attention and friction. “What do you want, sweetheart? Mouth or cock?”

His fingers ghost over your folds, the absence of his touch maddening and making you frantic for something. “Mmf—fuck, your cock — please, please I need you to feel you p-please, Steve.”

Cocking his head with that look on his face, you can guess you’ve said something wrong, mouth going dry and an indignant whine forces itself out of you.

“Princess,” he chides, parting your legs and leaning over you, arms braced either side of your head trembling to keep himself upright, “you were doing so well. Try again. Who am I?” His nose nudges up against your cheek, then his wet lips follow in messy little pecks.

Tonight he’s pushier than usual, which means that the playful jabbing at work had gotten to him. Normally you enjoy pushing back but with how desperate you were for something, you acquiesce instantly, “Daddy, I’m sorry—”

“Ah.” He nips at your jaw, a wordless direction to try again.

You gulp and buck up against him, dragging your abused hole along his chubbed up cock. Fuck, he’s always good at turning you on, but tonight was practically unbearable. Another whimper tumbles out, catching into the sob that followed, “Da-ah — Daddy.”

A groan slips out, smothering it against your temple which is the only indicator that he’s on the cusp of falling apart as much as you. “F-hmm, yeah. That’s right, pretty girl. You want Daddy’s cock, hm?”

Whole-body tingles trickle through you as he looks down with those ridiculously playful eyes and already wrecked expression. You risk another buck of your hips, eyes fluttering at the contact of him against you again “mm-hmm, please.”

“Yeah? Want me to remind you of who I am so it sinks in?” He kisses and nips along your throat, “or do you want me to fuck you stupid?”

The decision was already made before it could even form as an answer in your mouth. He sits up, the rush of cold is sobering until you’re blessed with the view of him stroking himself lazily. God he’s perfect.

“Daddy’s gonna fuck his pretty girl stupid, isn’t he?” He grits through his teeth, hungry eyes roving over you laid across his bed. He tracks down from your face, then to your tits and slowly down all the way to your cunt where you clench again under his stare. “Jesus. ‘lright, legs.”

Without a second thought, your legs lift and rest over his shoulders. His lips twitch almost giving way to a laugh, maybe a different night he’d have laughed at how eager you were being. Not tonight. “Thaaat’s my good girl. Look at this pretty pussy, cryin’ f’me.”

Steve liked taking his time, though whatever was in the air had him skipping the theatrics and cutting straight to the finale. Another whine cuts through a sharp breath when he lines himself up, “gonna make y’feel so good, Princess.”

“P-ah, fuck, please Daddy.” You knead roughly into his chest, feeling already so overwhelmed and now impatient to feel him anywhere. Mouth, ass, cunt — somewhere to alleviate the restlessness.

Hearing you, he buries himself completely inside your waiting hole with a guttural moan. The sensation is sharp, pulling a choked sob from you. As always is the case with how wide he is.

“Fuck, feels like heaven, babygirl. Always take me so well,” he groans, taking a moment to collect himself before thrusting at a rapid pace in short bursts. “Mf— y’ know the drill, honey. Touch y’self,” he pants.

Honey.

Through the complete haze of how filled he makes you feel, the surprisingly sweet endearment felt different than all the others. He’s never called you that before, not like this. Cock sheathed completely inside you, bullying your hole, he’s never called you honey.

Heeding his direction, one hand flicks and plays with your tits while the other glides down to circle your clit. God, you were so slick with want for him, picking up the pace whenever he slowed his thrusts for a few minutes.

Since the Christmas party last year and the first time this happened, Steve had an inexplicable ability to make you so beyond horny it was almost frustrating. It was laughable that at one point in your life, you had committed to the idea that sex was boring and you could live without it.

But with this man in all of his glory, has somehow managed to get you going in a way no other person had before.

A year of this; him fucking you into his bed with all the care and time in the world and you letting him, and it has yet to get old.

“Ah fuck y’squeezing Daddy so fucking tight. Mmf — Love fucking my sweet girl raw.”

His thrusts pick up again, so do your fingers around your clit to chase that feeling again. Each snap of his hips leave you feeling so filled and somehow its never enough, for either of you.

“I-hmm — Daddy I’m close,” you breathe and arch up, lifting hips up enough to change the angle enough that both of you groan in unison.

By now, he’d have you ride him, but considering how worked up you’d gotten it was barely a thought to him right now. He loves watching your tits bounce when you ride him as much as you love making his tits jiggle, but now was more about a feverish need to keep momentum and chase that release.

“Ha-I, fuck, I know.” He chuckles quietly, his vocalisations were always soft gleeful little moans. Like he was in complete disbelief that you let him defile you every time he asks for you to come over. You once told him defile was a strong word, and he had said it was hot and continued to fuck into you on his couch.

That tightness starts to strengthen, that sinking feeling in your tummy as your movements feel lighter becomes more apparent with each thrust of his cock and glide of your fingers, “God, don’t stop, please.”

“That’s my good girl. C’mon — come f’me, come for, ah — Daddy.”

Your hips half up buck up, your face scrunches and jaw loosens to let out a breathy moan from orgasmic bliss. It pulses in waves while your cunt clenches and un-clenches around him, urging him into his own release. “ohmygod,” you seize up while it rushes through your core and blooms outward to your head.

His pace picks up now, grunting and moaning quietly while effectively fucking into your now rag-dolling post orgasm body, which he pretends never to get excited over but always fails. He loves fucking you boneless and loose, only ever admitted in the way his eyes rove over your tired face and he smiles proudly about it.

Like yes, he did this to you. He fucked you so good and hard that you’re loose limbed and lethargic in a euphoric daze all from his cock. But its not just his cock, its all of him. Face, body, hair, him.

“Gonna fill up my pretty girl, yeah? You gonna let Daddy fill you up?” He asks but it was never as if you’d tell him no. Because there was something about him filling you up that was so lewd about feeling him for hours afterwards.

You nod lazily, too blissed out to say much of anything, which he knows. Bringing a hand to caress your face and slipping his thumb through plush lips, “thats my girl. So good f’me.” The tenderness stops when he hangs his head and then his hips pick up a brutal pace.

His thumb hooked into your mouth keeps your head steady while he hammers into you with such intense concentration. No one fucks like Steve Harrington. And somehow you were the lucky recipient to experience it all, the sweet talk, the tender moments, the absolute abuse on your pussy when he fucks you hard and fast.

It’s a head spin to feel already at the height of overstimulation that it was almost unbearable.

“Ah, fuck. Fuck. I’m —” his hips notch as close to yours as possible as he spills his load into you, rocking his hips slowly until he’d completely emptied himself. He languidly slides your legs off his shoulders, the position they’d been in for so long has them prickle with pins and needles.

With an exhausted boyish smile, he leans down to pepper wet kiss along your neck and face, and collapses onto the bed, dragging you on top with a tired smile. “Mmf, you are so pretty when you come on my cock, honey.” And he dives back in again for more kisses.

There it is again, honey.

You feel his spend oozing out of you, probably getting all over his meaty thigh, but he doesn’t care and neither did you. He’d clean it up after a moment to catch his breath, which was honestly, your favourite part of being with Steve. How sweet and mushy he got after sending you into an alternate reality with his cock.

“Y’know I was thinking the same about you, honey.” You murmur, drawing shapes across his soft chest, pulling gently at his hair absently.

He doesn’t say anything about the pet name, no verbal acknowledgement that indicated he had thoughts about it. But there was a self satisfied little smile on his lips and that look of content in his eyes that gave away more than words ever could.

And yeah, that checks out, but you felt the exact same way.

That was exactly how you felt as you shifted restlessly in the narrow bunk beside Joe, trying to find a comfortable position for what had to be the tenth time in as many minutes.

The bus was wrapped in darkness and silence, broken only by the low hum of the road beneath you and the faint sound of Wes' soft snoring somewhere nearby.

Normally, it might have bothered you, but right now, you couldn't care less.

You needed Joe. 

Seeing him on stage that night — sweaty and breathless, his hands wrapped around the microphone as he moved his hips back and forth in that effortlessly seductive way of his — had stirred something deep inside you. Even now, the memory sent a shiver down your spine, your panties getting more wet every second that passed. 

You squeezed your eyes shut but it didn’t help. If anything, the darkness made the memory clearer. Beside you, Joe slept peacefully, completely oblivious to the effect he’d had on you.

You sighed quietly and turned onto your side, giving him your back, one hand resting over your stomach. For a few seconds, you stayed completely still. Then, before you could change your mind, you slowly slipped your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts and underwear.

You glanced over your shoulder. Joe hadn’t moved. His breathing remained deep and even, his features softened by sleep. For one second, you felt almost embarrassed but you couldn't help it. You needed some kind of release and the image of him onstage wasn’t helping. 

Your hand continued its slow descent until it reached exactly where you needed it most. You touched your clit gently, barely applying any pressure at first, testing the sensation. Then you moved lower, your fingers sliding through your lips, collecting the wetness. 

You pressed your lips together and closed your eyes, concentrating on the pleasure building inside you, your body tense.

The bus suddenly felt unbearably small. Every tiny sound seemed amplified — the rustle of the sheets, the vibration of the road, your own uneven breathing.

You slipped one finger inside, then a second, imagining they were Joe’s cock stretching you open and started moving. You buried your face into the pillow, trying to muffle the moans threatening to escape your throat as you increased the pace. The last thing you wanted was for any of Joe's bandmates to hear you.

You knew you should stop. The thought of someone waking up should have been enough. But it wasn’t. If anything, knowing you weren't supposed to be doing this it made you even more wetter, your pulse beating faster. 

You buried your face deep into the pillow and quickened your pace as the orgasm inside you continued to build. Your breathing grew heavier, your skin warming as a thin sheen of sweat gathered along your neck.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying desperately to keep quiet as the pleasure became harder and harder to contain.  

You were almost there when a hand settled over yours, resting firmly over the thin fabric of your shorts. You jolted at the unexpected touch, immediately going still.

Joe moved behind you, shifting closer until his chest was against your back, warm and solid. You didn't turn to look at him, suddenly too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

He kissed the back of your shoulder.

“Having trouble sleeping, babe?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, rough with sleep and amusement.

You swallowed and nodded, your throat suddenly too dry to answer. Behind you, you could feel his cock pressing against the curve of your ass, already hard. 

His quiet laugh brushed against the back of your neck.

“Let me help you.”

Your stomach flipped.

His hand remained where it was for another second before moving away. He caught the waistband of your shorts and underwear between his fingers and slowly pulled them down to your knees, letting you take care of the rest as you quickly slipped them off with your feet.

“This is risky, Joe,” you whispered. 

His lips brushed the shell of your ear.

“You started it.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you leaned back against his chest as he gently caught one of your legs, lifting it to open you up. His hand traveled slowly up the length of your thigh in a sweet, agonizing torture.

You instinctively rolled your hips, grinding yourself against the hard line of his cock, desperate to feel more, to feel him. 

“So needy, aren't you?” he murmured.

His fingers finally found your core, parting your folds with deliberate pressure.

“And so wet, too.”

“Please, Joe,” you begged him. 

Someone shifted somewhere farther down the aisle, the mattress creaking softly. Your entire body went rigid. For several seconds, neither of you breathed properly. There was another rustle, then the bus fell silent again. 

“Shhh, baby. You don't want the guys to hear us, don’t you?”

Even not seeing him, you could picture the mocking expression on his face. 

You wanted to tell him that you didn't care if they did, that all you wanted was to fuck him.

He pulled his hand away from you, making you shiver at the sudden loss of contact. But when you heard him fumbling with his clothes, you relaxed again. 

Joe shoved his boxers low enough to free his erection. Then he took himself in hand, stroking it, spreading your wetness along his length. 

You bit your lip at the thought of what was about to happen, heat pooling between your thighs.

Joe settled against you, rubbing your slick folds with his tip. Then he gently pushed in, letting out a low groan.

“Fuck, you feel so good, babe. So tight.”

You barely had time to react before Joe started moving inside you, slowly, stretching you open with every thrust. You moved against him, trying to meet his rhythm, while your fingers keep stroking your clit. 

You tipped your head back, your breathing growing heavier despite your best efforts to stay quiet. Every movement made you acutely aware of him, inch by inch.

Joe gradually picked up the pace as he pressed kisses and gave you bites along your shoulder and on your neck, trying to muffle his sounds against your skin. Your bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, the quiet, wet sounds of your movements filling the cramped space. 

It wasn’t only desire anymore. 

It was weeks of unfinished conversations and interrupted kisses and constantly having him beside you without ever having him entirely to yourself.

You needed this.

You needed him.

And judging by the way Joe held you, he needed exactly the same thing.

One of his hand slipped beneath your shirt, traveling upward until it reached your breast. He squeezed it firmly, making you arch your back. His hand moved down again, settling against your stomach and gently pulling you back against him.

You were so lost in each other, so completely absorbed in the moment, that nothing else around you seemed to exist. If one of Joe's bandmates had woken up or made a sound, you probably wouldn't have noticed. All you could do was hope they stayed asleep.

Joe's hand slid down your thigh. He shifted your leg higher around his waist, opening you up even more, and sinked deeper into you, leaving you both breathless as his cock hit that sensitive spot inside you. 

You were so wet that he struggled to stay inside you, slipping out.

“Fuck,” he groaned. 

He took hold of himself at the base and pushed back inside you, this time harder. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to him before thrusting again, his movements becoming more urgent while never pulling completely out. Joe could feel your walls wrapping tightly around him, gripping his cock with every stroke.

"I can feel you’re close, babe. Let go,” he murmured against your temple.

You pressed your face into the pillow, fingers clutching the sheets as the tension inside you finally snapped, your body clenching around his cock. A wave of pleasure rushed through you, your legs trembling as Joe continued moving inside you, slower than before but more deliberately, each thrust deeper than the last. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck, holding you firmly against him as he came inside you, his own release painting your walls.

You lowered your leg, and stayed like that for several minutes, with him still inside you while you both caught your breath. You could feel his cum slowly leaking out of you, but you didn't move, too exhausted to do anything and content to stay there with him. 

Joe pressed a lazy kiss to the top of your head.

You turned your face toward him and kissed him. It was messy and sleepy and hungry all at once, your lips parting only to find each other again a second later. It felt almost as intimate as what you had just shared. When you finally pulled apart, it was only because you needed to catch your breath. You could feel his cock hardening inside you again. 

“I missed you, Joe.” Your voice was breathless. “I missed this.”

“Me too, babe. Next time you're having trouble sleeping, wake me up, okay?”

You nodded, too tired to speak.

Joe started to pull away from you, but you stopped him.

“No. Stay. Please.”

Joe didn't need to be told twice and slid back inside you.

You moaned at the sensation. “Uhmm. So good, Joe.”

Joe wrapped an arm around you, pulling your body securely against his chest. Then he gently kissed your temple.

“Now I'm the one who won't be able to sleep,” he whispered.

You smiled, your eyes already closing.

“Goodnight, Joe. I love you.”

His arm tightened around you.

“I love you too.”

A few minutes later, still tangled together and with Joe still inside you, you both fell asleep.

-

The next morning, everyone gathered around the small table on the bus for breakfast.

You sat beside Joe, still looking half-asleep and feeling pleasantly tired. He looked just as sleepy, nursing his coffee with both hands, his hair a complete mess. 

“Morning, guys,” Jake mumbled, dropping into the empty seat across from you.

You instinctively reached up to adjust the collar of your shirt, making sure it covered the faint marks Joe had left scattered along your neck the night before.

“Morning,” you replied.

Jake reached for a cup of coffee and looked around the table.

“Did everyone sleep well?”

You and Joe looked at each other. The memory of the night before flashed through your mind, and judging by the small, knowing smile on Joe’s lips, he was thinking about exactly the same thing.

You quickly looked away, suddenly very interested in the slice of toast in front of you, while Joe lifted his mug, hiding his grin behind it.

“Very well, thanks,” you both answered at exactly the same time.

I hope you liked it! Let me know what you think, I always love reading your comments under my posts and if you want to support me even more, reblog it. Thanks!

Fingers 🔥

Little look 🔥

Fingers 🔥

Little look 🔥

You were his regular waitress at the diner he had been frequenting for the past five months. He’d stumbled in there after taking a right off the first exit from the storage unit because he had a long ass shift that day and just wanted some blueberry pancakes. What he did not expect to find there, was you. Travis swore you were the sweetest girl he’d ever met because every time you smiled he swore the room got brighter. It didn’t help how beautiful you were either and he found himself a rambling mess trying to just order something from you.

When he came back a few days later and you were working again, you smiled brightly and said his name. You remembered him. That made him go all warm and gooey on the inside because…well after being in prison no one really liked talking to him. He had the ink in his arm that most people knew meant and it kept people away from him. Which sucked because Travis liked people. He likes to talk and learn about them, which doesn’t always end well because he can be easily persuaded. He’s working on that though.

But you, you talked to him. You asked him questions and made him think and you listened to him ramble when he couldn’t stop. It was hard not to ramble when your smile literally made him have googly heart eyes. You never looked at him like he was some ex-con who washed up here. No, you actually conversed with him like he was a normal person. You even gave him your number to text you about his random thoughts you seemed to love.

He was over the moon about that, the idea of you and him being friends outside of the hour he spent at the diner was exhilarating. The idea of maybe asking you out even more so, but he didn’t want to push it and make you uncomfortable by suggesting things like a date or anything. He was happy to just be your friend. You were a good influence and his parole officer told him he needed more friends like that.

Which is what you guys had become. You invited him over to your place a few times when your schedules aligned to bake him things. Cinnamon rolls, cookies, cupcakes, terribly good sweet things that were so not good for his blood sugar levels but he didn’t care. You made them and they tasted amazing. And the smile that graces your lips when he says how delicious they are never fails to make him feel happily satisfied.

Other times you hung out wandering around downtown. You were determined to help Travis furnish his apartment appropriately so Saturdays that you didn’t work were meant for thrift stores. He’d blindly follow you around the antique shops and watch as you mull over little trinkets happily. He liked your opinion, your apartment was really nice so he knew you had great taste. He let you make a cool little gallery wall above his couch and you know he wouldn’t admit it ever really but you were right…decorating the apartment did make it feel more homey.

Those days would usually end with you guys in a coffee shop, chatting away like you normally. Travis found himself wanting to spend everyday like that. Listening to you talk, asking you questions, and watching you do the things you love.

So yeah, safe to say you and Travis were good friends. So much so that when your name popped up on his phone as you texted him, he wasn’t surprised. His attention was wrapped in the drama on screen as he pulled his phone up to read the message.

You: TRAVIS

Oh god, this can't be good.

Travis: Yes angelface?

Angelface, because that’s what you had. He called you it the first time he saw you at the diner. Your face was like that to him, some sort of heaven.

He watches as the little three dots keep appearing and disappearing over and over again. After two minutes of that, he starts to get concerned. You didn’t normally text his name in full caps like that unless something was going on. He knew you were supposed to be going out tonight with some friends, a girls night.

Travis: Hey, what’s going on you’re scaring me.

You: Srry sry, I’m at this bar and it’s really packed and loud and I’m a little scared

Travis: Scared?

The dots appear and disappear again and he doesn’t have time for that as he feels a small pit in his stomach appear. He presses your contact picture, opening your info and clicking the call button. It rings three times before you pick up.

“Travis?” You say through the phone, voice a little shaky and maybe even a little slurred.

“Angelface, what’s going on? Why are you scared?”

“Um, it’s nothing too serious I’ve just had a little too much to drink and Grace and Hannah left because they met some guys and well this one guy was talking to me but I didn’t want to keep talking to him but he kept talking to me and just wouldn’t shut up or leave me alone and anyway I’m in the bathroom now but it’s not that big of a deal Travis I shouldn’t’ve bothered you I—”

“What’s the name of the bar?” Travis asks as he stands up, finding his hoodie and shoes to slip on as he grabs his car keys. Your words are slightly slurred together as you speak and he’s known you to downplay a situation in the short time of knowing you.

“Really Travis it’s okay, I can just uber, I should—”

“What’t the name of the bar angelface, please?” He says again, hand on the knob of his apartment front door.

You sigh telling him the name and he tells you he’ll be there in ten minutes top.

-

You make your way out of the bathroom and back to the bar two minutes after the phone call, your hands a little shaky as you flagged down the bartender for another drink. She brings you one and you close out your tab finally, looking down at the margarita in front of you.

Truthfully the guy your friends set you up with was cute, he was just a total bore and an awful conversationalist and had totally different values then you. Then when you told him no, you would not be going home with him, he was a total ass. You don’t think he would’ve done anything too stupid but he spit some unkind words in your face and gripped your bicep really hard when you tried to walk away. It was enough to make one of the bouncers walk over and tell him he should probably leave. You hurried off to the bathroom before you could really see him get pushed out the front door.

That’s what led you to texting Travis.

“Angelface.”

Speaking of the devil, Travis slides onto the bar seat next to go, watching as you sip the sweet cocktail. You smile around the straw as his eyes meet yours and your insides go all warm and fuzzy.

“Travis! I’m so happy you’re here!” You say earnestly, mouth a little loser because of the tequila. “Wow you got here really fast.”

To be honest, you feel like you’ve been drunker before. However, the adrenaline from Mark (the guy you had been talking to) has worn off and you're starting to maybe feel a tad bit looser than before. And that’s definitely not a good thing to be feeling when the guy you’ve been developing feelings for is here to take you home. Especially not when he looks so good in the black graphic t-shirt he’s wearing and he looks so warm and cute and are you staring now?

“How many of these have you had?” He grins as he pulls the drink away from your lips, making you whine.

“Not thaatt many.”

He hums, raising his brows as he looks at the receipt planted in front of you.

He lets out a low whistle, “Yeah, five margaritas and a shoot of tequila over the last 3 hours will definitely do you in.”

“What!? I haven’t had that much no way,” you snatch the ticket away from him to look but it’s a little difficult to read.

Oh God you are drunk.

Travis laughs at your widened eyes, moving the last drink away from you completely. “All right, I think you're done with the tequila.”

You whine slightly, a sound that bubbles something in Travis lower stomach.

“You could’ve called me earlier and I would’ve come and gotten you. You know, saved you from yourself.”

“Pffft, well then you would’ve had to meet Mark and that would’ve sucked,” you slurred slightly, remembering back to the lovely conversation you had with Mark and learning his idea of how AI was going to progress in a great way and save the creative world. Yuck. “Why aren’t any guys as good at conversations as you, huh Tea? Like they allllll talk about gross things and then when we do get talking about serious things, they’re totally wrong.”

Travis laughed at the way you exaggerated your words, “So, uh, is Mark still here? Do we need to get outta here before he comes back?”

You shook your head no definitively, “No, no way, I told him to get lost loser, ‘cause he was a loser. He makes AI flyers for his company's work events, like Ew, hire a graphic designer.”

Travis’s laughs never end, rolling into each other at your candor, a nice sound that fills your ears like a sweet song. You follow the way he rocks in the laugh, your own lips forming into a love sick smile.

“You have such a nice laugh,” you say with a love sick look on your face.

You watch as Travis’s face heats up, his cheeks turning rosy. “Thank you, angelface.”

God, you just want to lean forward and kiss him. He’s so cute and sweet and he drove all the way downtown to get you from this bar because you called him.

This thought has you sliding off your seat and closer to him, wanting to feel his overly warm body close to yours. You wobble as you get off the stole, falling into Travis way more than you originally planned.

“Woah, easy now,” Travis chuckled as his hands went to your waist to steady you. Steady, warm hands, holding you up so nicely.

When you look up at his face, it’s so close to yours, his breath ghosting over your cheeks. You could just push up onto your toes and your lips could touch his. You want that, like really bad.

So you do it, pressing up onto your toes until your noses are practically brushing. You hear Travis’s breath catch as you prepare to close the last inch.

Only Travis can’t do this like this, not with you in this state. He wants it, God he wants it, but he’s not going to be that guy. No way.

He ducks away, his lips falling to your cheek in a sweet press instead.

You feel the rejection hit you sharply. What have you done, you idiot, oh my god, why would you do that, you’re so—

“I’m not gonna kiss you when you’d barely remember it, Angelface,” he whispers against your ear.

You can practically feel how your knees want to give out at that.

Travis somehow manages to get you to his car after you start to sing out “Travis has a crush on me, Travis has a crush on me” like a school girl into the night sky. Everytime you stumble, he’s there to catch you, making sure you stay upright.

He buckles you into the passenger seat and you fall asleep before you even make it home. You only wake up when you feel Travis trying to put his arms under your legs and carry you, you wiggle around groaning as you try and stop him.

“I’m a big girl I can do it,” You mutter sleepily, pushing yourself out of the seat and into him.

He’s quick to catch you as you fall forward into him, crashing into his broad chest. You laugh as you stumble to get upright with his help.

“You sure you got it?” He chuckles as he looks down at you.

“I might need a little help.”

He chuckles again, putting an arm around you, under your armpit and hauling you up and into him so he can guide you into the building.

When he makes it to his floor, shushing you as you start singing a One Direction song because you think that’s so funny to do at 11:45 at night, he shoves his key into the lock and drags you inside his apartment.

“I LOVE your apartment Tea, these windows rule,” you slurs as he closes the door behind you guys.

You pry off your shoes, leaving the wedges by the front door and padding through his apartment. You feel the drunken sleep that’s about to over take you completely as you start stripping your shirt off.

“Woah hey, Jesus, warn me,” Travis says as he watches you strip your shirt off completely.

You frown as you turn to him in just a lacey bra. A cute one, probably one of your cutest. It’s red and holds your tits up nicely, it makes your boobs look really good in the top you were wearing. But Travis’s reaction in your drunken state offends you, because you look great in this bra.

“What am I ugly or somethin’,” you slur as you looked down at yourself. You notice the buttons of your jeans then and start undoing them next.

“Okay, okay just hold on,” Travis says quickly, trying to stay respectful and not look at you and get a boner while finding you something to sleep in.

He blindly looks through the drawers until he feels a soft tshirt in his fingers and holds it back to you.

“Why won’t you look at me Tea? Am I not pretty?”

He knows you're drunk and sober you would be so embarrassed by these words but he can’t help the little pang they send to his heart.

“No angelface, you are so pretty, I’m just trying to be respectful,” he tells you, keeping his eyes on the wall above his dresser while he keeps the shirt extended back to you. “Here’s something for you to sleep in, do you wanna shower?”

“No,” you say as you grab the shirt. “You know, I wouldn’t mind if you looked.”

He stays facing the wall, leg shaking anxiously as you strip your bra off and put the shirt on. “You’re drunk.”

“Drunk thoughts are sober words,” you slur sleepily as you make your way onto his bed. The comforter is soft, you picked it out for him because he’d been complaining about the quilt he had and how cold he was sleeping.

“That’s not the saying,” Travis laughs, finally turning around to see you sitting in his bed, in his shirt.

Fuck, think of things that won’t get you hard.

“Pfft, whatever Tea, you just don’t wanna see me naked, or kiss me, or do anything with me,” you say dramatically, throwing your hands out to your sides to emphasize it.

“That’s so not true,” Travis says before he can even really think about it.

“Oh really?”

“Yes! I told you I would kiss you when you’re not drunk,” Travis says, his face heating up as he does. He really hopes you won’t remember this part of the night so he can preserve this friendship.

“You were just saying that.”

And there you go with that sad voice again and Travis feels that pang in his chest. You’re pouting practically, looking up at him from where he stands at the foot of his bed.

“I was not ‘just saying that’, angelface.”

You feel a bit fluttery at his tone but once again, drunken sleep is creeping in and you flop down more into the bed.

“I’m sleepy.”

“Then go to sleep, I’ll be on the couch if you need anything,” he says as he makes his way out of the room.

“No wait,” you call out, voice thick with tiredness but you really don’t want him on the couch. “Stay, please?”

You watch him hesitate through half lidded eyes, but push through as you want him next to you badly.

“Travis please stay and hold me, I’m not that drunk where I can’t consent to that,” you say, knowing he’s a sweet man who’d never want to cross any boundary.

That has Travis kicking off his shoes and sliding into the bed behind you, wrapping one arm around your waist and shoving the other under your head. Both of you fall into a deep sleep with his head tucked into your neck and your hand clutching his on your stomach.

When you wake in the morning, neither you or Travis have moved from that position. His nose tickles your neck with every breath he lets out and for a moment, you feel like you can stay like this all day. That is, until your body decides that all the tequila you drank was in fact a problem.

It’s a slow ache, coming over you as you fully awaken. You groan as your head begins to pound and you feel the sweat pooling around you. And as much as you’d like for Travis to stay wrapped around you, he feels like a fucking furnace.

“Mm,” Travis hums against your neck as you try to pull his arm off of him.

“Travis,” you say, trying to protest his grip tightening on you. “I’m sweating so much, please let me get up.”

This time it’s him groaning as his arm unwinds itself from your waist, freeing you and you already feel better. You stand up from the bed, stretching your arms and feeling your bones crack as you do.

Travis’s eyes are half lidded, watching you stretch and seeing the bottom curve of your ass. He needs to stop looking, he needs to turn away but he just can’t. Your skin looks so soft and he has been fighting himself since last night. Now he feels his cock hardening from its already half hard morning state as he watches you pad across his room.

He says your name, voice thick with sleep and gruff in a way that makes your stomach churn.

“Yeah?”

He doesn’t say much after, just watched you stand in the doorway of the bedroom. There’s so much he wants to say, ask if you remember the almost kiss, what you said, what he said, but for once, he’s speechless.

Because you’re haloed in the light of the hallway from the big windows in his shirt with bare legs and just lacy panties he’s seen now and he can’t stop thinking about.

“Uh there’s extra towels under the sink, if you want to shower,” he says instead of saying something he’s sure will embarrass himself.

Your heart sinks a little bit as you enter the bathroom because you do remember everything that happened last night and…well you still really wanted to kiss Travis. You were definitely embarrassed by some of your words but yeah, drunk words are sober thoughts or whatever the hell you said.

You kick on the shower and start stripping the clothes from your body and then step in. The waters a touch colder than you would normally like it but it cools your over heated skin and overwhelming desire for the man in the other room. But it still starts pooling in your stomach as you think about the man in the room next to you.

His arm wrapped around your body, the way his voice sounded last night in your ear, and how sweet he’s been in times even before this. You’ve had a thing for Travis for a while now and you have no idea why you’ve never acted on it. It’s not like you haven’t seen the signs, but sometimes you just thought he was being friendly because well that’s just how Travis was.

You wanted it to be more though, you always did, it was just—Okay maybe sometimes you were a little scared of admitting your feelings because for so long, they had never been reciprocated. By anyone.

But now, you most definitely think they are, and last night confirmed it.

So why didn’t you say anything this morning? Why didn’t you do anything when you woke up? Why didn’t—

The bathroom door opens. It creaks loudly and you hear Travis’s hum.

“Hello?” You call out.

“Sorry, I uh, knocked but you didn’t answer and well I-I didn’t want you to have fallen or something I just, well you, I’m gonna shut up now and just go I don’t know why I came in here that was incredibly rude—”

“Travis,” You say, stopping his ramble.

“Yes?”

A moment of bravery rushes through you as you push back the shower curtain, revealing your naked body to him. His eyes widen and cheeks redden.

“I, uh, I, well, um—”

It flatters you a lot that you’ve rendered him speechless as he gawks at you. But you’d really like him to just kiss you now.

“Travis,” You repeat his name, making his eyes move back up to your face from where they were looking at your tits. “I think I’ll remember if you kiss me now.”

Travis beams brightly at your quip, discarding his clothes faster than anyone you’ve ever seen and stepping over the edge of the tub. His large hands cradle your cheeks, thumbs rubbing over the apples of them as he looks into your eyes.

Your breath stutters as his lips graze over yours, breathing in your exhale.

“Angleface,” he says with reverence, eyes meeting yours wistfully.

You don’t know why you're not closing the distance but his eyes are so pretty and you wouldn’t mind him looking at you like this forever. But his lips keep grazing yours and you’re feeling the heat radiate off of him. It’s torture, sweet, beautiful torture.

“Travis, please kiss me, please,” you whimper out when he presses you against the tile wall.

And he does so, deeply and passionately.

One hand moves from your face to your waist, gripping the skin there and rolling his body into yours as he deepens the kiss more. Your hands come up, racking through the bleached strands that are becoming more damp as you two move into the water. He moans into your mouth as your nails scrap his scalp, pulling yourself up and closer to him.

He takes that pull and slides both his hands under your thighs, picking you up. You moan as his length presses between you and you can’t stop yourself from subtly grinding against him. He’s thick and long and his tip nudges your clit on the downwards movement of your grind, making you moan into his mouth.

“Travis,” you moan out in a breath again when he presses you into the tile wall more.

“Angelface,” he responds, lips leaving from yours to begin a trail on your neck.

One of his hands travels over the skin of your stomach, water tracking down between you two, as his finger comes closer to your heat.

“Please tell me you want this,” Travis whispers in your ear, his lips brushing over the shell of it. “Please baby, I-I’ve wanted you for so long I just didn’t know if you felt the same. You’re so pretty and kind and sweet and I’m just—“

You grab his face with both of your hands, pulling him away from your neck to make him look at you. Your thumbs rub over his undereyes, feeling some raised bumps that you want to memorize and kiss.

“Stop, you are deserving of anything you want. If anything, I’m undeserving of you, you have no idea what you’ve brought into my life, Travis. I haven’t felt more like myself since we met and…I’m sorry I didn’t do anything sooner I just never thought you’d feel something for me.”

“What?” Travis barks out in confusion, your statement genuinely baffling him. “How could I not? Have you seen yourself?”

You blush, deeply, because it’s a compliment you're not used to. Sure, you’ve had guys show interest, like the dude last night, but this…someone actually wanting you for more then something surface level is wonderful.

“Can I show you?” Travis then says when you don’t reply for a second. “Can I show you how amazing you are? How wonderful and gorgeous-“ he kisses you lips-“ and sexy-“ another kiss-“and amazing you are?”

“You said amazing twice,” you chuckle, fingers cooking into his hair.

“Because you are, and I’d like to show you.”

“Okay.”

Travis beams again, lips latching back to yours in a feverish kiss. His hand that has stilled between the two of you continues its journey down, cupping your pussy, the heel rubbing into your clit deliciously. His fingers tease your entrance, thick, calloused, and warm before pressing in. You gasp against his mouth, falling into a moan as they begin a slow pump in and out.

“Tea, oh my god,” you moan, your lower stomach tightening fast as his thumb begins giving attention to your clit.

“Does that feel good?” He asks, a smile playing on his lips against your cheek. His other hand is still helping to hold you up, legs wrapped around his waist tightly. But it’s not enough, you’re so warm and tight and he wants to taste you, he needs to.

He pulls his finger out, a whine leaving your lisp in protest but it does away entirely as he lets you down and then drops to his knees. He brings one of your legs over his shoulder, and then the other before his tongue starts a dance over your folds. It’s hot and his eyes contact does not help cause with one taste he’s utterly drunk on you.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he moans against your clit, making you cry out his name again. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of moaning it if he makes you feel like this. A lick of pleasure shoots up your spine when his fingers come back to your entrance, teasing you again.

“Travis, Travis, don’t stop, please,” you ramble out, whiney and begging as you feel your release drawing near.

“You gonna come baby? You gonna let me taste more of you?” He asks, tongue circling your clit before sucking it into his mouth. Your back arches off the wall, a cry of his name leaving your lips that you're sure will disturb the neighbors.

You can’t even respond because he’s making out with you pussy now, like it’s for his own pleasure and not yours. Maybe it is because his dick is leaking precum now and he’s so hard you’re sure it hurts.

And then it’s only seconds after that you're coming hard, moaning “Travis! Oh my God, holy shit!”

Travis works you through it, fingers barely slowing and tongue moving slightly faster until your breathing slows. Your chest heaves still as he kisses his way back up your body, hands roaming all over until he’s got his mouth back on yours.

You taste yourself there when his tongue slides against yours, coaxing you closer to him again. Like you aren’t already fused to it. You return the favor, hands moving over him to try and learn more of him. The wonder down to his length, hand wrapping around his impressive length and giving it a squeeze.

The kiss falters, a whimper spilling out of his mouth against yours. You feel him sink down a little bit, knees weakening and it's intoxicating to know you have this power over him. It makes you feel beautiful.

“Angelface,” he pants against your lips, another whimper falling out of his mouth. He tries to keep kissing you but you’re starting to stroke him for real now and he knows it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s blowing his load like a teenager. “I need you, I need to be inside you, please say yes.”

“Yes, yes please, I need it so bad, Tea,” you plead, nodding your head.

Your hand releases him, allowing him to yours so he can guide his length through your folds. His tip catches your puffy clit, sending that same pleasure up your spine. Then he grabs your right leg, lifting it over his hip as he pushes in, filling you up and honestly splitting you in half. You felt how big he was before but actually having him inside you has you gasping at the burning sensation.

“Are you okay?” He asks, voice shaking slightly as he looks you in his eyes.

He catches the way they sparkle, pupils blown wide with lust and a smile on your lips. Travis finds himself lost in that look, realizing he never wants to spend a Saturday night alone again if it means he can spend them with you. He’ll give up all his Saturdays to pick you up, all of his slow Sundays if it meant he woke up next to you. He’ll make new routines, find new time for himself because he wants you in every lifetime. Reincarnated to be with you and make you feel loved in every life, even if it was just a hairpin, buried in your tresses to make you feel pretty. It would be worth it.

You’re nodding your head, longer than Travis probably realizes because he was too busy lost in your beauty. Because now you're starting to whine and grip his shoulders tighter, canting your hips to encourage his to move.

He curses, hips pulling back and snapping back into yours, fucking you deep. You don’t think anyone has ever actually made you feel this good, not with his tip hitting that spongey deep in you that makes you see stars.

“Holy shit,” you breath out in a breathless moan, back arching off the wall as he keeps rutting into you.

“There?” Travis asks as he keeps hitting the spot.

You can’t even respond, just little breathless moans pouring out of your mouth to tell him yes, there, don’t stop, don’t ever stop.

It’s not long again before your walls are tightening around him and you know you're close.

“Fuck you feel so good babygirl,” Travis moans against your neck, continuing to pound into you. He’s trying to get as deep as he can, fuse himself with you even more cause he never wants you to not feel him in you.

“Travis, I—” a moans rips through you so you can’t finish you warning but he doesn’t need it cause he can feel it.

“Let go baby, come all over my cock.”

And you do just that, a high pitched moan leaving you as you release around him in ecstasy. You’re sent to another planet and the only thing reminding you of this earth his Travis lips suddenly attaching to your nipples, sucking the pebbled skin into his mouth.

“Fuck, I’m so close, where do you want me—“

“Inside, please I need to feel you.”

“Fuck, shit-are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, oh my god, yes.”

You’re pretty sure you're gonna come again because he hasn’t stopped pounding into you and maybe you didn’t realize how much you’ve wanted him since he walked into your diner five months ago. You didn’t realize how many times you’ve thought of him late at night when you’re lonely and needy, or how many times you’ve wished for this exact thing.

Travis gives you three more thrusts before his cum is painting your walls, sending you into another orgasm.

Once you're both back down to earth, panting into each other's skin, you begin to laugh. A giggle bubbling up and out of your mouth before you pull his face away from the crock of your neck to kiss him again.

“Why are you laughing?” He asks, his own mouth in a smile as you try to kiss but you’re just knocking teeth at this point.

“Because I can’t believe we didn’t do that sooner,” you laugh again, lips peppering kisses across his face.

kurt kunkle

travis "teacake" meacham

walter "keys" mckey

────────

“Babe, where’s the last place you’d seen it?”

You had been searching for twenty minutes, tearing apart Eddie’s bedroom to assist him in his frantic hunt for his missing guitar pick- his lucky guitar pick. The one that he couldn’t go on stage without. It was a bad omen, a tragedy, and a complete disaster if he played without it that night. So now, here you are, taking part in your boyfriend’s two-person search party.

“Jesus, I don’t know…” Eddie groans “I can’t fucking remember.”

“You know, babe, if you maybe cleaned up every once in a while like Wayne tells you to-“

“Sweetheart, I know, okay?” Eddie sighs “Can you please just spare me the lecture? Pretty please? I’m already stressed.”

“Okay, Eds.” You reply “Just calm down. We’ll find it. Have you looked under your bed?”

“No.” He shook his head “Could you? I’m gonna go check the laundry basket in the bathroom. Maybe I left it in one of my pants pockets.”

As Eddie walks out of his bedroom, you sink to the floor- getting on your hands and knees to search underneath his bed. You tilt your head to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of what was underneath his mattress- feeling around for anything that could be his guitar pick.

Your hands felt around several miscellaneous items. A few comic books that had surely ended up abandoned after Eddie had fallen asleep reading them, sending them to a graveyard housed between his wall and the mattress. The further you dug underneath the labyrinth of junk under his bed, the more disturbed you became.

Old condom wrappers from your past hookups, a beat up spiral notebook, a Dungeons and Dragons manual, dirty socks, a yo-yo, and- to your horror- a pizza box that housed hard, stale pieces of crust. You wrinkle up your nose in disgust, dragging it out from underneath the bed as you slid it across the floor. You would definitely be giving him a lecture later about how disgusting he was.

As you kept digging, you used your arm to reach further- your fingertips brushing up against something hard and rectangular. Your interest was piqued. You pressed the side of your head down onto the floor, trying to get low enough to get a peek. Down further, almost out of reach was a beaten-up black shoebox. You knew that it probably wasn’t where his guitar pick was hiding but you were curious.

You stretch the tips of your fingers, using them to inch the box closer to you so that you could grab onto it- sliding it out from underneath the bed. The lid was well-worn. You wondered what was inside, knowing that it was neither his white Reebok sneakers or his black boots. Really, it was probably where he stored his old acrylic paint sets that he used to paint his DnD miniatures.

You stared down at the box in front of you, knowing that you shouldn’t snoop through your boyfriend’s stuff. You and Eddie were completely open with each other and shared a lot in your relationship but you still couldn’t help but feel guilty about potentially violating his privacy. You should put it back where you found it. You should leave the lid closed. You should forget that you had even found it in the first place. But that damn shoebox was like a siren’s call to you.

Open me.

Open me.

Open me.

Your curiosity got the best of you. Before you could stop yourself, you pluck off the lid- setting it on the floor beside you as you peer into the box. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting but you weren’t expecting what you saw. Several copies for something called Heavy Metal.

They looked just like every other comic that Eddie owned, adorned with colorful illustrations in various art styles, genres, and characters. Just like his favorites; Uncanny X-Men, Saga Of The Swamp Thing, The Warlord, and Dragonlance for example. However, you found it odd that these ones were stuffed away in a box and not on his bookshelf where he usually kept them.

Maybe these ones were rare? You thought. But that couldn’t be it because all of his rare comics were carefully stored in protective sleeves and categorized by series- it was the only thing in his life that was organized. Why would these ones be here and not with the others?

Your eyes sweep over the cover of the issue that was on top of the stack. Pictured was an illustration of a woman. She was dressed (if you could even call it that) in a thin, barely there black fabric that only covered her breasts and her crotch- the rest of the material flowing behind her like a cape. Otherwise, everything else was exposed. You’ve never seen any of the female heroines in Eddie’s comics drawn this scantily clad. It took you aback.

Your eyes continue to sweep over the cover, ignoring the way that the heroine was wrapped up in a fierce green dragon. This was definitely on par for Eddie. However, when your eyes traveled further up, you caught sight of the text at the top near the magazine title. In yellow text it read, “the adult illustrated fantasy magazine.”

Adult.

If you weren’t intrigued before, you definitely were now.

You open the strange magazine, beginning to thumb through the pages as your eyes skimmed over the contents. You didn’t know what you expected but it certainly wasn’t what you ended up finding on the pages.

Your eyes widen in shock as you are met with comic strip pages filled with naked women. Their nude bodies drawn in crude situations and perverse sexual scenarios. The pictures were so graphic, hypersexualized, and over-exaggerated to the point that your face began to heat up. Not only did your boyfriend own one of these dirty magazines but he owned several.

Your head was reeling as you continued sifting through the box. Issue after issue after issue. Six in total. Way more than what he needed. As you lifted them out of the shoebox, you were greeted with something worse; a VHS porno tape. It lacked its cardboard cover sleeve but you could read the title on the front of the tape; Wet and Messy Vol. 2.

Was this really the shit that your boyfriend was into?

“Hey, baby, I found it! It was in the pocket of my-“

Eddie walks into the room, holding up his lucky guitar pick in triumph. When his eyes landed on you, he went speechless. The last thing he expected to see when he walked back into his room was his girlfriend kneeling on the floor with his “secret stash” box open in front of you. But as soon as he noticed the VHS tape clutched in your hand and his collection of dirty mags in a pile on the floor, his mouth went completely dry.

“Shit.”

────────

“C’mon, baby. Say it. I know you fucking want to.”

He slams his hips into you hard and fast, his pace relentless as he was fucking you so hard and deep that you were practically drooling onto his bedsheets.

“Fucking. Say. It.” He demanded, wrapping his right hand around the chain link of the handcuffs he had around your wrists- pinning your arms behind your back. Once he grips it, he begins to yank the chain towards him- using it to pull you back onto his cock.

“Oh- oh my god!” You gasp, your mouth dry and hoarse from moaning and crying out underneath him. But he didn’t care. Eddie was going to continue using and abusing your tight, wet cunt until you finally gave him what he wanted. Until he finally had ownership of you.

“Yeah?” He coos “That feel good? Taking me nice and deep in that pussy? Of course it does, sweetheart. Don’t know why I even ask. As if you’re not too cock-drunk and fucked out to answer me anyway, right? Fucking you so stupid that you can barely even form a sentence.”

“Eddie!” You squeal as he begins to hit a new spot inside of you that had your eyes rolling into your skull.

“You come over here every other day begging to get dicked down but you don’t wanna be my girl? What’s that about, huh?” He tsks “Answer me, you fucking brat.”

“N-no!” You choke out, gasping for air as his hips clap against your ass hard enough to jolt you forward “I- oh shit!”

“You what?” He asks, yanking the cuff chain back far enough to have you arching your back, causing you to take his cock even deeper.

“Fuck!” You scream “I’m- oh fuuuuck. I’m scared, Eddie.”

“Scared of what, doll?” He asks, watching the way his cock disappeared into you over and over again. He never got sick of the sight. That’s why he needed you to say it so bad. He needed to lock you down. “Tell me what you’re scared of.”

“I-I don’t know.” You stammer, squeezing your eyes shut at the way that you could feel him in your fucking guts. The way he was fucking you was intense enough to make you cry. Almost bordering on too much.

“You scared that you’re going to realize that you need me? That you and I will be so fucking good together, baby?”

You try to focus on his words but you can’t help but realize how obscene the sounds were that your pussy was making as he fucked into you.

“Ohhh god!” You cry out.

“You feel how good that feels?” He asks “You could have this every day, baby. All you’ve gotta do is say it. Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you belong to me.”

Hearing him speak like that when he was balls deep in you was bringing you closer and closer to the edge. That delicious feeling of release. You wanted it bad. So bad.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Say it. You know you want to. You know I’d treat you good. Give it to you like this any time you wanted. Don’t you want that? Hm? My big fucking cock stretching you open and fucking you sore as much as you want? Anytime. Anywhere. Just say it, baby. Say it because I’m not gonna stop. Not until you’re mine. I’ll go all fucking night if I have to. If that’s what it takes.”

His words only serve to get you wetter. Hearing him tell you how much he wanted you was the ultimate turn on. The way he was taking you as if he already owned you. In a way, he already did. The only thing he had left to claim was your heart.

“You know I always get what I was, sweetness. I always do. And I want you. God, I want you. So, I’m gonna keep giving you this dick and making you fucking take it until you say it. Say it, baby. Fucking say it. Let me love you, baby. Let me take care of you.”

“I-It’s yours!” You choke out, whimpering into the bedsheets “My pussy’s yours.”

“No, baby.” Eddie tsks, shaking his head as he smacks your ass harshly- causing you to yell out. “That’s really nice of you, doll, but you know what I want. I don’t just want this pussy, baby. I want you. All of you. Every fucking part. I’ll cuff you to the goddamn bed for hours. Fucking days. As long as it takes until you break. You’re not leaving this bed until you’re mine. All mine.”

“No.”

The word caused his hips to still. Stopping mid-thrust as he growls. Quickly pulling out of you. You whimper at the loss as you watch Eddie reach for the key to the handcuffs, leaning back to free one of your wrists. Only one. He wasn’t finished with you.

“On your fucking back.” He orders.

You quickly obey, lying down flat as he stares down at you.

“Put your arm up.”

You follow directions, letting him cuff you to the headboard as he watches you with heat in his eyes. If that didn’t break you then he would try something else.

“Open.” He demands, using his large ring-clad hands to pry your thighs open. He grabs his dick, rubbing the tip up and down your folds before quickly plunging back inside of your heat- causing you to gasp.

“Holy shit!” You moan, suddenly wishing that your hands were freed so that you could grab onto him as he sunk himself deep into you over and over. “Eddie!”

“Fucking look at you. You don’t wanna be with me but you scream my fucking name like it’s the only thing you can remember. You act like your pussy doesn’t fucking gush around me every time I stick my dick in you. You know I’d treat you good, baby. Stop fucking hiding from me. You’re gonna be my girl. Even if I’ve gotta keep chasing you. Even if I’m gotta keep fucking you like I hate you. Especially when I know that it’s the opposite. When I love you.”

The admission caused you to moan out, your mouth falling open in shock and pleasure.

“Fuck, baby. Is that what you need to hear?” He asks “That I love you? I love you, sweetheart. I’m not gonna stop fucking you until you tell me you love me back. C’mon. Stop being fucking stubborn.”

He shifts his hips so that he was thrusting downwards into you in a way that had you breathless and gasping for air. You were so close.

“I….love…you.” He groans out between deep thrusts “C’mon baby, say it back. I know you feel it too. Fucking tell me. Tell me.”

“Eddie, I-“ You gasp out, feeling every fucking inch of him punch into you.

“C’mon sweetheart. Say it. Look at me when you fucking say it.” He demands, grabbing your chin in his hand as he forced you to look at him. To stare deep into those brown doe eyes of his that had you melting and gushing and….in love. Totally and completely in love.

“It’s right there, angel. You’re so close. Just tell me. Please tell me.” He pleads.

“I love you, Eddie.” You choke out “I- fuck, I love you.”

“Yeah?” He breathes, his heart practically bursting when he finally heard those words come from your mouth “Fuck, baby!” He cries out “Oh fuck!”

He felt out of control. Diving and snapping his hips into you like he was going crazy.

“Say it again, baby.” He pleads “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you, Eddie.”

“Fuck, sweetheart! You’re gonna make me cum!” He moans, his jaw quivering. “God, I love you, baby. I fucking love you. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You moan “I’m all yours.”

“Fuck!” He pants “Again. Say it again.”

“I’m yours!” You scream out “Wanna be yours! I’m…gonna- fuck! Gonna c-cum, Eddie!”

“Me too, baby.” He whimpers “Me too. Wanna cum in my girl. Wanna fill you up. Let me fill you up. Please, baby.”

“Okay.” You nod “Do what you want with me. I belong to you.”

“Ohhhh fuuuuck!” Eddie gasps “Baby, I c-can’t hold on much longer. Need you to…oh, Christ!”

He reaches down between you, using the pad of his thumb to roughly grind against your clit. It was just what you needed. That’s why you were in love with him. He always knew what you needed.

“Cum for me, baby! C’mon, sweetheart! Give it to me!”

“Eddie, I’m c-cumming! I- holy fucking…oh god!”

He watches the way your body shakes beneath him, your eyes rolling back as you gasped for air. He loved seeing you come apart for him. Completely his mercy.

“Fuck yes! Atta girl! That’s my girl! Gonna give you this cum, baby. Gonna fucking cum in you. Gonna make you mine. Oh shit!”

His mouth drops open in ecstasy as he releases inside of you, filling you with enough cum to have you leaking for a week. The thought of it was enough to get him going again. His girl. Leaking his cum.

His body gives out as he flops onto the mattress beside you, trying to catch his breath. He reaches for the key to the handcuffs, gently releasing you as he scoops you into his arms and pulls you close- letting you rest your head on his chest. You were silent the whole time, in post orgasmic bliss as he lights up a cigarette- taking drags of it as he stares at the ceiling.

“I meant it, you know.” He says, his head turning towards you “I’m in love with you.”

“Really?” You laugh “I couldn’t tell.”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes “At least you know now.”

“I love you too, Eddie.” You reply softly “I mean it. If you want me to be yours, I’m ready.”

He stare at you for a long while before putting out his cigarette, leaning towards you as he kisses your lips tenderly. This kiss felt different than all the others. Because it was the first kiss you would share after becoming his girl.

“Sweetheart,” He says, grinning as he pulls back to look at you “I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

“Thank you.” Jess preened. “I’m glowing. Look at me. Post-orgasmic radiance.” She tilted her face toward the neon Bud Light sign like it was a mirror. Then her expression softened into something more pointed. “Speaking of which… you still having your little problem with men?”

You froze mid-wipe. “Jess—”

“What problem?”

Eddie’s voice cut across the bar, casual as anything. He didn’t even turn around at first, just kept lining up the Jack and the Jim like he hadn’t been listening the entire time. When he finally glanced over his shoulder, one dark brow was already arched high under the messy fall of his hair. He always looked unfairly good—black band tee stretched across his shoulders, silver rings flashing every time he moved, that perpetual half-smirk that made it hard to tell if he was about to roast you or flirt with you. Probably both.

Jess didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, you know. Her problem.” She jerked a thumb in your direction. “She’s never came from a dude before.”

The bottle of whiskey in Eddie’s hand paused halfway to the shelf.

You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. “Jesus Christ, Jess—”

“What?” she said, all wide-eyed innocence. “It’s not like it’s a secret. You’ve told me like six times. And he’s right there. He’s basically part of the furniture at this point.”

Eddie set the bottle down with deliberate care and turned fully, resting his forearms on the bar. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Never?” he repeated, voice low and amused and way too interested. “Like… ever? Not even the accidental ones? The ‘oops I moved wrong and something happened’ variety?”

Heat crawled up your neck. “Can we not—”

“Nope,” Jess said cheerfully. “We’re airing it out. Self-awareness is in bitch.”

Eddie tilted his head, studying you like you were a particularly fascinating puzzle. The long hair, the rings, the faint scar through his eyebrow—everything about him was unfairly magnetic, and he knew it. He’d always known it. The way his eyes lingered a half-second too long when you reached for the top-shelf bottles. The way yours did the same when he stretched to change the lights over the pool table.

“Huh,” he said eventually. “That’s… tragic. Actually tragic. Like Greek tragedy levels of tragic.”

You glared at him. “It’s not tragic.”

“It is,” he insisted, deadpan. “You’re twenty-one. Peak prime. And you’re walking around out here unsatisfied like it’s some kind of personality trait. That’s criminal. Someone should fix that.”

Jess grinned. “See? He gets it.”

“I get nothing,” you muttered, scrubbing harder at a non-existent spot on the wood. “And for the record, it’s not like guys haven’t tried. They’re just… bad at it. Or distracted. Or weirdly determined to go for the Olympic gold in thrusting while forgetting the rest of the body exists.”

Eddie made a soft, wounded sound. “Ouch. Collectively roasting half the male population. Bold.”

“Deserved,” you shot back.

He leaned in a little, elbows sliding closer across the bar. The metal of his rings clicked against the wood. “So what you’re saying is… every single guy who’s ever had the privilege has been mid at best.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“And none of them managed to, y’know—” he made a vague, elegant gesture with one hand, rings flashing, “—get the job done.”

Jess was delighted. “God, this is better than daytime TV.”

You pointed the rag at her. “You started this.”

“And I’m thriving.”

Eddie ignored her completely, eyes still locked on yours. There was something sharp and curious under the teasing now. Something that made your stomach pull tight.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “Very interesting.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t look at me like that. Like you’re taking notes for later.”

His grin spread slow and wicked. “Baby, I’ve been taking notes for months. This is just the first time the subject’s come up in conversation.”

Jess actually clapped. “Oh my god.”

You felt your face go hot. “Eddie—”

He straightened up, palms raised in mock surrender, but the smirk never left. “Hey. Just saying. If the bar’s this dead every afternoon, maybe we should start a support group. I can lead the hands on portion of the presentation.”

You threw the wet rag at his chest. He caught it one-handed without even flinching, laughing under his breath as the damp fabric slapped against his shirt.

“You’re the worst,” you told him.

“And yet,” he said, tossing the rag back onto the bar between you, “you keep looking.”

Jess made a delighted little noise and stage-whispered, “I live for this shift.”

Eddie just winked at you—slow, deliberate—and turned back to the bottles like he hadn’t just set the entire afternoon on fire.

The next two hours crawled by in that special brand of dead-bar purgatory where every glass you washed felt like a personal insult. A couple of regulars drifted in, ordered cheap beer, and left again. Jess kept shooting you meaningful looks every time Eddie got within ten feet, which was constantly, because the universe had decided you two were stuck on the same side of the bar for the rest of the shift.

He waited until Jess disappeared into the back to change a keg before he started.

“Alright,” he said, voice low and conversational as he dried a pint glass with unnecessary care. “Pop quiz time. You ever come from oral? Like, someone actually knowing what they’re doing down there.”

You nearly dropped the bottle of vodka you were restocking. “Eddie.”

“What? Scientific inquiry. I like to learn.” He tapped his temple with one ringed finger. “Answer the question.”

You glanced toward the empty booths, then back at him. “No. Not really. It’s usually… fine. Then they get bored or their jaw starts hurting and they switch to something else.”

He made a soft, wounded sound like you’d just insulted his entire bloodline. “Christ. The bar is in hell. Next question—missionary. Ever gotten there that way?”

“No.”

“Doggy?”

“Eddie—”

“Answer.”

You exhaled through your nose. “Once I thought I was close. Then he asked if I was okay because I went quiet and the whole thing died.”

Eddie actually stopped drying the glass. He stared at you for a second, then set it down very carefully. “I’m going to need a list of names. Ban them from the bar. They're never allowed in your presence again.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m invested,” he corrected, leaning a hip against the counter. The afternoon light caught on the silver at his knuckles. “Okay, reverse cowgirl. Ever tried that one?”

You gave him a flat look. “You’re just listing positions now.”

“It’s a thorough survey. I’m a thorough guy.” His mouth curved. “What about when you’re on top and you actually get to control the angle?”

Heat crawled up the back of your neck. “Still no.”

“Against a wall?”

“No.”

“Bent over something?”

“Eddie, oh my god.”

He held up both hands, rings flashing, but he was grinning like a man who’d just found a new favorite hobby. “Okay, okay. Solo work. You can get yourself there, right?”

You hesitated, then nodded once. “Yeah. That’s… the only reliable method, honestly.”

Something shifted in his expression—still playful, still teasing, but there was a new sharpness underneath it. Like he’d just filed that particular answer into a mental drawer labeled Important.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “So the equipment works. The operators just suck.”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

He reached past you for a clean stack of coasters, close enough that you caught the faint scent of leather and stale tobacco. His voice dropped even lower. “How do you do it, then? Fingers? Toys? Pillow humping like a teenager?”

You shoved a coaster into his chest. “I’m not answering that.”

“Coward.”

“Voyeur.”

“Guilty.” He caught the coaster before it fell and spun it between his fingers. “Fine. Keep your secrets. I’ll just have to hypothesize.” He tilted his head, studying you with that same intense focus he’d given the whiskey bottles earlier. “I’m guessing fingers. Two, maybe three. Slow at first, then faster when you get close. You go quiet. Bite your lip. That soft little sound you make when you’re frustrated with the register? Probably the same one.”

Your face went hot enough to fry an egg. “You are unbelievable.”

“I’m observant.” He flicked the coaster onto the bar with a soft clack. “And currently constructing a very detailed theory about what it would take to fix this tragic situation.”

You turned away to grab a new bottle of well tequila, mostly so he wouldn’t see the way your mouth wanted to smile. “You’re plotting.”

“Obviously.”

“You’re thirty-six. Shouldn’t you be plotting, I don’t know, retirement or something?”

Eddie barked a laugh. “Baby, I’m in my prime. And right now my prime is extremely focused on the fact that you’ve never been properly ruined by another person and that is a personal offense to me as a man who takes pride in his work.”

You glanced over your shoulder. “Your work.”

“I’m a multi-talented individual.” He winked, slow and filthy. “Bartending is just the day job.”

Jess chose that exact moment to reappear from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. She took one look at the two of you—Eddie’s smug expression, your flushed face—and grinned like Christmas had come early.

“Oh, this is gonna be a great closing shift,” she announced.

Eddie just hummed, turning back to the glasses with the air of a man who had all the time in the world and a very specific plan forming behind those dark eyes.

The night stretched on like it had a personal grudge.

By eight the place finally woke up—college kids with fake IDs, regulars who lived three stools down from alcoholism, a table of guys who kept trying to get Jess’s number and failing spectacularly. You and Eddie moved around each other like you’d been doing it for years, hips brushing when the space got tight, fingers grazing when you both reached for the same bottle. Every time it happened he shot you a look that said noted, and every time you pretended not to notice.

He waited until you were both stuck behind the bar during a rush to lean in close, voice low under the music.

“So when you’re alone,” he said, pouring three shots of Jameson without looking, “how long does it usually take?”

You nearly over-poured the vodka in your hand. “I’m not answering that while I’m making someone a vodka soda.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Eddie.”

He slid the shots down the bar with a practiced flick of his wrist and turned just enough that his mouth was near your ear. “I’m building a timeline. Important data. Is it a ten-minute situation or a ‘I’ve got the apartment to myself for an hour’ situation?”

You shouldered him back an inch. “You’re exhausting.”

“And yet you’re still answering.”

“I’m not.”

“You will.”

By eleven the crowd thinned enough that Jess could handle the floor alone. That left the two of you restocking the back bar, bodies close in the narrow space between the ice well and the speed rack. Eddie handed you bottles one by one, rings clicking against glass, and every time your fingers touched he held on a second longer than necessary.

“Okay, new category,” he said, passing you the triple sec. “Toys. Yes or no.”

You set the bottle down harder than you meant to. “I’m going to kill you.”

“That’s not a no.”

“It’s a none of your business.”

He grinned, slow and sharp. “So yes. What kind? The little bullet ones that die after six months or the fancy ones with remote controls that costs like two weeks pay?”

You stared at him. “How do you even know about those?”

“I have lived a full and varied life, sweetheart.” He leaned past you to grab a fresh stack of napkins, chest brushing your shoulder. “Also I have internet access. Shocking, I know.”

“You’re still this much of a menace. That’s actually impressive.”

“Thank you. I try.” He paused, then added, quieter, “You go quiet when you’re close, don’t you? Even by yourself. I’ve seen the way you bite the inside of your cheek when you’re concentrating on the register. Same energy.”

Your face went hot again. “Stop studying me like I’m a lab rat.”

“Can’t. You’re the most interesting thing in this entire shitty bar.”

Midnight came and went. The last wave of drunks stumbled out around one-thirty. Jess clocked out early with a pointed “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do” and a look that promised interrogation tomorrow. That left just the two of you closing—chairs up, floors mopped, registers counted in the weirdly intimate quiet of a bar after hours.

Eddie wiped down the last section of the counter while you counted the till. He waited until you were halfway through the twenties before he spoke again.

“Last question of the night. Promise.”

You didn’t look up. “You’re a liar.”

“Probably. But still.” He tossed the rag into the bin and came to lean against the register, arms crossed, watching you. “If someone actually knew what they were doing—knew exactly how to get you there and refused to stop until it happened—do you think you could?”

You paused with a stack of bills in your hand. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Somewhere in the back the ice machine kicked on with a loud clatter.

“I don’t know,” you said finally. “Maybe.”

Eddie’s mouth curved, soft and dangerous all at once. “Good answer.”

You finished the count in silence after that, the weight of his attention sitting warm against the side of your face. When the drawer finally balanced you locked it and straightened, rolling your shoulders. Your feet ached. Your lower back ached. It had been a long-ass day in every possible way.

Eddie was already shrugging into his leather jacket, hair a mess from running his hands through it all night. He held the door open for you as you both stepped out into the cool 2 a.m. air.

“Same time tomorrow?” he asked, like he hadn’t spent the last nine hours conducting a very public interrogation about your sex life.

You locked the door behind you and turned to face him under the streetlight. “You’re not done with the questions, are you?”

He smiled—slow, crooked, full of intent. “Not even close.”

The next day Eddie walked in looking like he’d made an actual effort, and it threw you off so hard you nearly dropped the stack of clean glasses you were carrying.

He’d clearly showered. The usual faint haze of cigarette smoke and bar soap that clung to him was gone, replaced by something warmer, cleaner—like cedar and maybe sage? underneath. His hair was still long and messy, but it looked deliberate this time, pushed back from his face like he’d actually run a comb through it. Black jeans, a soft worn black shirt that fit a little too well across the shoulders, and those same silver rings. He looked… intentional.

Jess noticed first. She mouthed what the fuck at you from across the bar the second his back was turned.

You just shook your head and tried not to stare.

He didn’t launch into the interrogation the second the shift started. That was the weirdest part. No pop quiz. No filthy little comments under his breath every time you bent down for a bottle. He just… worked. Smooth, quiet, efficient. When the bar got busy he moved around you like he’d memorized the shape of your body in the space, hand settling briefly at the small of your back when he needed to slip past, voice low and easy when he called out drink orders.

It should have been a relief.

It felt like standing too close to an open flame.

You floated through the night in a strange, charged quiet. Every time your eyes met across the bar something tight pulled low in your stomach. He caught you looking more than once and just smiled—small, private, like the two of you were sharing a secret no one else was in on.

Closing came faster than it should have.

Jess clocked out with a pointed look and a whispered “text me if you die” that made you want to throw a lime at her head. Then it was just the two of you again, stacking chairs in the low light, the jukebox finally silent.

Eddie wiped his hands on a towel and glanced over.

“You wanna come smoke?”

The question was casual. The way he said it wasn’t.

You usually said yes. Half the time after closing the two of you ended up on the back steps sharing a joint and talking shit about customers until the sky started getting light. Tonight the air between you felt thicker. Like the question meant something else entirely.

You still said, “Yeah. Okay.”

He nodded once, like he’d expected that answer, and grabbed his jacket.

You followed him out to the employee lot after locking up. His van was the same beat-up black thing it had always been, but even that felt different under the streetlights. He unlocked the passenger side for you without a word, then climbed in himself. The engine rumbled to life. Neither of you spoke for the first few minutes of the drive.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was loaded.

Eddie’s place was a small rented home ten minutes from the bar, the kind of place that looked like it had seen better decades. He parked in the cracked driveway and killed the engine. For a second he just sat there, hands on the wheel, staring at the dark porch like he was deciding something.

Then he looked over at you.

“You good?”

You nodded. Your pulse was doing something stupid in your throat. “Yeah.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, almost to himself. “Cool. C’mon.”

You followed him up the steps. The porch light was out. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, stepping aside so you could walk in first. The living room smelled like him—leather, weed, stale cigarettes. A couple of amps in the corner. Records stacked in uneven piles. A couch that had definitely seen better days.

Eddie tossed his keys on the side table and shrugged out of his jacket. The clean scent of whatever he’d put on earlier drifted toward you again.

He glanced over his shoulder, that same small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You wanna sit outside or in here?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavier than it should have been.

You met his eyes.

You nodded toward the dark backyard. “Outside.”

Eddie grinned like you’d given him the exact answer he wanted and jerked his head for you to follow. The backyard was small and overgrown, a couple of mismatched plastic chairs near the fence and a milk crate that clearly doubled as a table. He dropped into one of the chairs with a satisfied groan and pulled a little tin from his pocket.

“Got some really good shit tonight,” he said, already breaking up a dense little nug between his fingers. “Friend of a friend. Sticky. Smells like a forest fucked a skunk and they both loved it.”

You snorted and took the other chair. “Poetic.”

“I try.” He packed the bowl with practiced ease, silver rings flashing under the porch light that barely reached this far. When he lit it the first hit made him cough once, sharp, then he laughed and held it out to you. “Careful. This one sneaks up.”

You took it. The smoke was thick and sweet and immediately made your head feel softer around the edges. You passed it back and watched him take another hit, the way his throat moved when he held it in.

A few quiet exhales later you tipped your head, studying him.

“What’s up with the get-up today, by the way?”

Eddie blinked, all faux innocence. “What get-up?”

“Don’t play dumb. You smelled different. Looked different. Like you actually owned a bottle of real cologne instead of just rolling in whatever was on the floor of the van.”

He waved a hand, smoke curling around his fingers. “I showered. Revolutionary concept, I know. Sometimes the hair gets washed. Sometimes the shirt isn’t the same one I wore three days in a row. It’s called being a functional adult.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious. Zero effort. Pure coincidence.”

You took another hit and exhaled slowly, watching him over the rim of the bowl. “Well… I liked it.”

The change was instant. His whole posture shifted—shoulders loosening, that slow, pleased grin spreading across his face like you’d just handed him a trophy. He sat up a little straighter, eyes bright even in the dark.

“Yeah?” he said, voice warmer. “You noticed.”

“Hard not to. You walked in smelling like you had somewhere better to be.”

Eddie laughed under his breath, low and a little giddy, and ran a hand through his hair like he couldn’t help himself. “Shit. Okay. Noted. I’ll keep that in the rotation then.”

You passed the bowl back, lips curving. “I like normal you too, though. The regular version. The one who smells like your van and talks too much and leaves guitar picks in the tip jar.”

He went quiet for a second, turning the bowl between his fingers. When he looked at you again the playfulness was still there, but something heavier sat underneath it.

“Yeah, well,” he said, voice rougher now. “I just wanted you to notice the effort. Because if I ever get my hands on you…” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on yours. “I want you to know there’s gonna be full effort there too. No half-assing it. No getting bored halfway through. I’m talking dedicated. Thorough. The kind of focus that makes you forget your own name for a little while.”

The air between you went tight.

You raised an eyebrow, slow and deliberate, and let a small, challenging smile pull at your mouth.

“That a promise or just talk?”

Eddie stared at you for a long second. Then he laughed—quiet, almost disbelieving—and shook his head like you’d just dared him to jump off a roof.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice full of dark delight. “You’re gonna regret asking me that.”

Eddie set the bowl down on the milk crate with a soft clink, still grinning like you’d just handed him the best idea he’d ever heard. Before you could even process the shift in his expression he was out of the chair and in front of you, hands already sliding under your thighs.

“Wait—Eddie—”

Too late. He hauled you up in one smooth, practiced motion and tossed you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. The world tilted. Your hands flew to his back for balance as he started walking toward the house, one arm locked firm around the backs of your legs.

“Eddie, put me down—” you laughed, smacking the solid muscle of his shoulder. “You’re such an asshole, oh my god—”

“Mm. Keep talking. It’s cute.” His free hand settled on the back of your thigh, fingers spreading possessively as he carried you up the porch steps and through the open door. “Been thinking about doing this since you told me no one’s ever gotten you there properly. Figured I’d start with the logistics.”

You twisted, trying to push yourself up enough to see where you were going, still laughing. “Logistics? You’re manhandling me—”

The sharp, open-handed smack landed right across your ass.

The sound cracked through the quiet house.

You went completely still.

The laughter died in your throat. Heat flooded low and fast, a sudden, traitorous pulse between your legs that made your breath catch. Your fingers curled into the soft fabric of his shirt. You didn’t make a sound.

Eddie stopped walking.

You felt the way his whole body went alert underneath you—the slight pause, the way his hand stayed right where it had landed, palm warm against the sting he’d just left.

“…Oh,” he said, voice dropping into something darker and deeply pleased. “There it is.”

He adjusted his grip and kept walking, slower now, like he was savoring every step. You could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again.

“You went quiet real fast, sweetheart. That little problem of yours just get a whole lot more interesting?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your face was burning and the ache between your legs had gone from nothing to urgent in the span of one single slap.

Eddie carried you down the short hallway and into a bedroom that smelled like the real him. He bent and deposited you onto the mattress with surprising care, letting you slide down his body until you were sitting on the edge of the bed looking up at him.

He stayed close. Close enough that you had to tip your head back. One of his hands was still resting on your waist like he hadn’t fully decided to let go yet.

His eyes were darker than they’d been outside. The playful edge was still there, but it was sharper now. Focused.

“Yeah,” he murmured, thumb stroking once over your hip. “I saw that. Felt it too. You clenched up the second my hand landed.” He tilted his head, studying your face with open, hungry curiosity. “Interesting reaction for someone who’s never come with another person. Almost like your body already knows something your brain hasn’t caught up to yet.”

He leaned in just enough that his next words brushed warm against your mouth.

“We’re gonna fix that.”

Eddie stayed right there between your knees, looking down at you like he’d already decided how the rest of the night was going to go. His hand was still warm on your waist, thumb tracing idle little arcs against the fabric of your shirt.

“Alright,” he said, voice light but serious underneath. “Before I do anything irreversible—you got a safeword?”

You blinked up at him, then huffed a soft laugh. “Jesus. You’re old. I’ve never needed one.”

His mouth twitched. “Charming. Really making me feel great about the age gap right now.”

“I’m just saying. Never came up.”

“Well it’s coming up now.” He reached past you, grabbed a pillow, and tossed it further up the bed like he was already planning ahead. “Pineapple. That’s the word. You say pineapple, everything stops. No questions, no attitude, I back off immediately. Clear?”

You stared at him for a second, then broke into a genuine laugh. “Pineapple? That’s the best you could do?”

“It’s memorable. And you’re not gonna forget it when you’re—”

You didn’t get to hear the rest of the sentence.

His hand slid up the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, and he closed them in a firm, controlled fist. The pull wasn’t rough—just deliberate enough to tip your head back so you had no choice but to look straight at him. The sudden shift in control sent another low pulse of heat straight between your legs.

Eddie’s eyes dropped to your mouth, then back up. His voice came out quieter. Rougher.

“How do you like it?”

The question sat heavy between you. You swallowed. Your scalp tingled where he held you.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. Honest. A little breathless. “No one’s ever… asked. Or stuck around long enough to figure it out.”

Something dark and satisfied moved through his expression. He leaned in closer, the grip in your hair keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“Then you’re getting the whole experience,” he murmured. “Every version. Hard. Slow. Filthy. Whatever makes that pretty little problem of yours finally give up.”

He closed the last inch and kissed you.

It wasn’t soft. It was deep and immediate, mouth open, the kind of kiss that felt like a claim. His free hand came up to cup your jaw, tilting you further into it while the one in your hair stayed locked, holding you in place as he licked into your mouth like he’d been thinking about it for weeks. You made a small sound against his lips and he answered it with a low hum, pressing closer until your knees had to part wider around his hips.

When he finally pulled back just enough to breathe, his voice was wrecked already.

“Yeah,” he said against your mouth. “We’re gonna take our time with this.”

Eddie kissed you down into the mattress like he’d been holding himself back and finally ran out of reasons to. The weight of him settled over you. His mouth never left yours for long, only breaking long enough for both of you to drag in air before he was back, deeper, hungrier.

Your hands found the hem of his shirt at the same time his found yours.

Fabric got shoved up between frantic kisses. You both laughed once against each other’s mouths when your arms got tangled, then the shirts were gone—his tossed somewhere toward the floor, yours pulled carefully over your head so he didn’t catch it on your hair. The second your bare skin met the cooler air of the room, Eddie went still.

His eyes dropped.

The tattoos you’d kept hidden under work shirts and bar aprons sat dark against your skin—delicate lines and soft shading that only showed when the fabric came off. He stared like he’d just been handed something private and important.

“Fuck,” he breathed. One hand hovered, then settled lightly over the ink on your ribs, thumb tracing the edge of a design. “You’ve been walking around with these under those little black tanks this whole time and never said a word?”

You felt heat climb your throat. “Didn’t come up.”

“It’s coming up now.” His voice had gone lower, almost reverent. He leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the center of your chest, right between your breasts, then another a little higher. The metal of his rings was cool against your side as his hand slid up.

He paused there, mouth still brushing your skin, and looked up at you through his lashes.

“Can I take this off?” His fingers rested at the back clasp of your bra, waiting. Not moving until you answered.

You nodded.

Eddie kissed the same spot on your chest once more—soft, almost grateful—before he reached behind you. The clasp gave easily under his fingers, like he’d done it a hundred times and still treated it like it mattered. He drew the straps down your arms slowly, letting the fabric fall away, and sat back just enough to look.

The way his expression changed was quiet and thorough. No teasing. No smirk. Just open, focused appreciation as his gaze moved over you.

“Look at you,” he murmured. One hand came up to cup the side of your breast, thumb stroking once beneath it like he was learning the shape. “Hiding all this under work clothes every night. Perfect fucking girl. Trying so hard not to let anyone see.”

He leaned back down and pressed a slower kiss to the soft curve of one breast, then the other, voice still gentle against your skin.

“Gonna take my time looking at every single thing you’ve been keeping to yourself.”

He stayed right there, mouth and hands devoted to your breasts like he had nowhere else in the world to be. Soft, open kisses trailed across the full curves, lingering under the weight of them where the skin was most sensitive. His tongue flicked once over a nipple before he closed his lips around it and sucked—gentle at first, then deeper when your back arched. The whole time he talked, voice low and warm against your skin.

“So responsive,” he murmured, switching to the other side. “Look at the way you push up into my mouth. You’ve been starving for someone to just… stay here and worship these for a while.” Another slow suck, a quiet hum of approval when you made a soft sound. “Perfect tits. So fucking perfect.”

You were soaked.

You could feel it—heat and slickness gathering between your legs until your underwear clung uncomfortably. You didn’t think you’d ever gotten this wet before. Not from kissing. Not from anything. Every drag of his tongue, every quiet, filthy-sweet word made the ache worse.

Eddie kissed lower, across the soft skin just beneath your breasts, then lifted his head. His eyes were dark, pupils blown, but his voice stayed careful.

“Can I take these off?” His fingers rested at the button of your jeans, waiting.

You nodded.

He popped the button and drew the zipper down slowly. You lifted your hips so he could work the denim down your legs and toss it aside. The second the cool air hit you, his gaze dropped—and locked onto the dark, obvious wet patch soaking through the center of your underwear.

His whole body went still.

You watched the thick outline of his cock twitch hard against the front of his jeans, straining against the fabric like it was trying to get to you on its own.

Eddie exhaled a rough, almost pained sound. “Jesus Christ.”

You swallowed, voice quieter than you meant it to be. “Fair is fair. Take yours off too.”

He didn’t argue. He stood just long enough to shove his jeans down and kick them away, leaving him in dark boxer briefs that did almost nothing to hide him. The outline was obscene—long, thick, heavy against his thigh, the head clearly defined where it pressed against the cotton. Even confined like that he looked massive.

Your mouth went a little dry.

“Holy shit,” you breathed before you could stop yourself.

Eddie glanced down at himself, then back at you, a slow, knowing smile tugging at his mouth even as his voice stayed soft.

“Yeah,” he said, climbing back over you. “We’re gonna take this real slow, sweetheart. I’m gonna need you nice and open for me.” His hand settled on your hip, thumb stroking the edge of your soaked underwear. “But first I’m gonna make sure this pretty little problem of yours never stands a chance.”

Eddie kissed you again—deeper this time, slower, like he was trying to pour every filthy intention he had into your mouth. You couldn’t help the way your hips rolled up against him, seeking friction, grinding the soaked center of your underwear against the hard line of his cock. The second you did it he groaned into the kiss, one hand sliding down to grip your thigh and hold you there for a second longer.

Then he pulled back.

“Greedy,” he murmured against your lips, almost fond. “Alright. I hear you.”

He started kissing down.

Your chest first—lingering again on the soft undersides of your breasts, tongue tracing the curves he’d already learned—then lower, across the plane of your stomach. Every open-mouthed press of his lips made your muscles jump. He nuzzled the soft skin just above the waistband of your underwear and exhaled like the scent of how wet you were was doing something to him.

You lifted your hips without being asked. Together you worked the soaked fabric down your legs until it was gone. The second you were bare, Eddie went quiet.

He sat back on his heels between your thighs and just looked.

His hands settled on the insides of your knees and slowly pushed them wider, eyes locked on the slick, flushed mess of your cunt. You were so wet it was almost embarrassing—glistening along your folds, dripping down toward the sheets. He stared like he was trying to memorize every detail.

“Fucking perfect,” he said, voice low and rough with sincerity. “Look at you. All pretty and shiny and soaked just from me playing with your tits. You’re beautiful like this.” His thumbs stroked higher along your inner thighs. “I’m gonna take such good care of you. Promise.”

Then he dove in.

No teasing. He flattened his tongue and dragged it through your center in one long, filthy stripe, collecting everything you’d made for him. The sound he made was almost pained—hungry and relieved all at once—before he sealed his mouth over your clit and sucked.

Your whole body arched.

Eddie hummed against you like the taste of you was exactly what he’d been after all night, and settled in like he planned to stay there for a very long time.

He started slow—long, flat strokes of his tongue from the bottom of your cunt all the way up to your clit, gathering every bit of slick that had already collected there. The sound was wet and filthy every time he dragged through you. He hummed low in his chest like the taste of you was something he wanted to memorize.

“Fuck, you taste sweet,” he murmured against your folds, voice already rough. “So wet for me already. Been dripping since I smacked that pretty ass, haven’t you?”

His hands stayed firm on your inner thighs, holding you open exactly how he wanted. When he focused on your clit he did it with devastating patience—soft, circling licks that barely gave you pressure, then firmer ones that made your hips twitch. Every time your thighs tried to close he just pressed them wider and kept going.

You were already shaking.

Eddie noticed. Of course he did. He lifted his mouth just enough to speak, lips shiny, eyes dark and focused.

“That’s it. Let me feel it. You’re allowed to get loud, sweetheart. Nobody’s here but me.” He dipped back down and sucked your clit between his lips, gentle at first, then harder when your back arched. “Good girl. So sensitive. I can feel you throbbing on my tongue.”

He worked you in waves. Soft and teasing until you were rolling your hips up against his mouth, then deeper—tongue pushing inside you in slow, filthy thrusts while his nose pressed against your clit. The wet sounds filled the room. Your hands found his hair and twisted, not sure if you were trying to pull him closer or survive it.

Eddie groaned like he loved the sting.

“There you go,” he praised, voice muffled against you. “Use me. Grind on my face if you need to. I’ve got you.” He sealed his mouth back over your clit and sucked in a steady, relentless rhythm while two fingers finally slid inside you—curving, searching, pressing up into that spot that made your vision blur. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me already. So tight. So needy. Gonna make this little cunt come so hard for me.”

He didn’t rush the build.

Every time you got close he eased off just enough to keep you hovering—switching to broad, messy licks, kissing the insides of your thighs, murmuring soft filthy things against your skin about how pretty you looked spread open and dripping for him. Then he’d return to your clit with single-minded focus, fingers working you open, tongue relentless.

Your stomach started tightening. The pleasure turned sharp and overwhelming. You could hear how wet you were—slick sounds every time his fingers moved, every time his mouth sealed over you again.

“Eddie—I can’t—”

“Yes you can,” he said immediately, voice low and certain. He doubled down, sucking harder, fingers curling in steady, perfect strokes. “You’re right there. I can feel it. Let it happen. Give it to me.”

The orgasm hit like a wave you couldn’t stop.

Your whole body locked. A broken, high sound tore out of you as the pleasure crashed through—your cunt pulsing hard around his fingers, slick gushing out of you in warm, uncontrollable pulses that coated his mouth and chin and dripped down onto the sheets. Eddie moaned like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted and kept going through it, licking you through every spurt, every tremor, drinking you down like he was starving for it.

He only slowed when your thighs started shaking too hard to stay open.

Even then he didn’t pull away completely. He pressed soft, open-mouthed kisses to your oversensitive clit, your folds, the dripping mess he’d made of you, voice wrecked and reverent.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured against your cunt. “Look at that. Fucking beautiful. You came so hard you made a mess of me.” He licked a slow stripe through the wetness still dripping from you and groaned.

Eddie sat up just long enough to shove his boxer briefs down and kick them off the bed. His cock sprang free—a heavy thump against his stomach. After everything he’d just done to you, he looked almost painfully hard.

He crawled back over you and kissed you deep.

You tasted yourself on his mouth immediately—sharp and sweet and filthy. The knowledge that he’d just had his face buried between your legs made your stomach flip all over again. He licked into your mouth like he wanted you to taste how hard you’d come for him, one hand braced beside your head, the other stroking slowly along your side.

When he pulled back, his voice was quieter. Careful.

“Still sure you want this?” His eyes searched yours. “I already made you come. We can stop here if you need to. No pressure.”

You didn’t answer with words.

You reached up, grabbed the back of his neck, and pulled him down into another kiss—harder this time, open-mouthed and certain. Your other hand slid down between your bodies and wrapped around the thick length of him. He was so hot against your palm, so heavy, the skin soft over the rigid hardness underneath. Eddie groaned into your mouth like the simple touch of your hand almost undid him.

“Okay,” he rasped against your lips. “Okay. I’ve got you.”

He reached down and wrapped his own hand around his cock, guiding the broad head through the soaked mess of your cunt. The first drag of him against your oversensitive clit made your hips jerk. He did it again—slower—slicking himself up with everything you’d already given him, the fat head catching against your entrance every time he passed over it.

You were so wet the sound was obscene.

Eddie braced himself on one forearm and looked down between your bodies, watching the way the blunt head of his cock pressed against you. His breathing had gone uneven.

“Gonna go slow,” he promised, voice strained. “You’re tight as hell and I’m not exactly small. Tell me if it’s too much.”

He pushed.

The stretch was immediate and intense—thick pressure that forced you open around him inch by careful inch. You could feel every ridge, every vein, the way your body had to give to take him. Your mouth fell open on a broken sound. Eddie’s forehead dropped against yours, a low, punched-out groan spilling out of him as the head finally slipped inside.

“Fuck—look at that,” he breathed, hips trembling with the effort of holding still. “Taking me so well already. You’re soaking my cock baby girl.”

He gave you another inch. Then another. The burn of the stretch mixed with the leftover sensitivity from your orgasm until your thighs were shaking around his hips. You could feel how deep he was already getting, the heavy weight of him filling you in a way nothing else ever had.

Eddie kissed the corner of your mouth, sweet even as his voice went filthy.

“That’s it. Just like that. Let me in, sweetheart. Gonna fill this pretty cunt up until you forget anyone else ever tried.”

“Move,” you whispered.

Eddie exhaled like he’d been waiting for permission. He drew his hips back slowly—just an inch or two—then pushed back in just as carefully. The thick slide of him forced another soft sound out of your throat. You felt everything. Every ridge. Every subtle pulse of his cock as he sank deeper. The way your walls had to stretch and flutter around the heavy girth of him just to take it.

He kept the pace almost gentle.

Long, controlled strokes that let you feel the full drag of him pulling out and the slow, relentless push back in until he bottomed out against you. His forehead stayed pressed to yours. His voice never stopped.

“That’s it,” he murmured, breath warm against your mouth. “Feel how full you are. Taking all of me like you were made for it. S' tight. S' perfect around my cock.” Another slow thrust. Your fingers dug into his shoulders. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Letting me open you up.”

The sweetness of it almost undid you more than the stretch.

Every praise landed low in your stomach. Every careful roll of his hips sent sparks up your spine. You could feel how wet you still were—slick sounds filling the quiet room every time he sank back in. But the longer he stayed that measured and deep, the more something restless started building under your skin.

You needed more.

Deeper. Harder. Something that matched the ache he’d already put in you.

Eddie must have felt the way your hips started chasing him, because he pulled back just enough to look at your face. His eyes were dark, pupils blown, but his voice stayed soft.

“I know,” he said. “I can feel you getting greedy again sweetheart.”

He sat back on his knees, still buried inside you, and hooked his hands behind your knees. In one smooth motion he pushed your legs up and open, folding you nearly in half until your thighs pressed against your own chest. The new angle made him sink impossibly deeper on the next slow thrust. You gasped—sharp and high—as the thick head of him pressed against something that made your vision spark.

Eddie groaned low in his throat and held the position, hips rolling in the same unhurried rhythm, only now every stroke dragged against that deeper, more intense place inside you.

“There we go,” he praised, voice rough with restraint. “That’s what you needed, huh? Deeper?” He thrust in again—slow, deliberate, grinding against the end of you. “All folded up and still sucking me in. Perfect girl. Just keep breathing for me. I’ve got you.”

He never sped up.

He just kept fucking you deep and steady, sweet words spilling out of him the entire time, like he had no intention of stopping until he’d ruined you completely.

Your voice broke on a high, frustrated sound.

“Eddie—please—harder. I need it harder, I can’t—”

He didn’t make you beg twice.

The second the plea left your mouth his whole demeanor shifted. The careful restraint he’d been holding onto snapped. His grip on the backs of your thighs tightened and he started fucking you properly—long, powerful strokes that drove him deep enough to punch the air out of your lungs every time his hips met yours. The wet, filthy sound of it filled the room. Your body jolted up the mattress with every thrust until he dragged you back down by the hips and kept going.

“Anything,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Anything you want. You need it harder? It’s yours. Need me deeper? Take it.” He snapped his hips in harder, the thick length of him dragging against that spot inside you on every stroke until your eyes rolled. “Fuck—listen to you. Whining for my cock like you were made for it. I’ve got you. Gonna give you everything.”

The intensity crashed over you too fast to stop.

Your second orgasm hit with almost no warning—sharp and overwhelming, your cunt clamping down around him in hard, rhythmic pulses as pleasure ripped through you. You cried out, nails digging into his arms, thighs shaking violently in his grip while you came on his cock alone. The wet rush of it made every thrust louder, messier. Eddie groaned like he could feel every flutter and kept fucking you through it, never slowing, praising you the whole time in a broken stream of words.

“That’s it—come on my cock, just like that. Fucking beautiful. You’re soaking me. Squeezing me so tight I can barely move. Good girl. Perfect fucking girl.”

He only eased up when the aftershocks left you trembling and oversensitive.

You could still feel how hard he was inside you—thick and throbbing, nowhere near finished. The realization made something determined spark low in your stomach. You reached up and pushed weakly at his chest.

“Want to ride you,” you managed, voice hoarse. “Please. Let me.”

Eddie went still. His eyes searched your face, dark and concerned even as his cock twitched deep inside you.

“You sure?” he asked, already breathing hard. “You just came twice. You’re shaking. We can slow down—”

“I’m sure.” You held his gaze, stubborn and flushed and still pulsing around him. “I want to. Let me.”

Something hungry and soft moved through his expression all at once. He carefully pulled out of you—both of you hissing at the sudden emptiness—then rolled onto his back in one smooth motion. His cock lay heavy and glistening against his stomach— pulsing.

He looked up at you, hands already settling on your waist as you straddled him.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and rough with restraint. “It’s yours. Take whatever you need.”

You braced one hand on his chest and reached down between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around the thick base of him. He was still soaked from you—slick and hot against your palm. You lined him up and sank down slowly.

The stretch punched a broken sound out of your throat. Even after everything, taking him from this angle felt deeper, heavier. You had to work yourself down inch by inch, thighs trembling, until you were finally seated flush against him with his cock buried to the hilt. Your head dropped forward. Eddie’s hands settled on your hips, thumbs stroking soft circles like he was grounding you.

You swallowed, voice already shaky.

“What do you like?”

His eyes were almost black looking up at you. A breathless little laugh left him.

“Anything that makes this pretty cunt of yours cream all over me,” he said, rough and honest. “You want to grind slow and deep until you’re shaking? I’ll lie here and take every second of it. You want to bounce on my cock like a desperate little slut until your legs give out? I’ll hold you up and thank you for the privilege. Use me. Ruin yourself on me. I’m yours.”

So you did.

You started rolling your hips—slow at first, grinding him deep so every movement dragged against that spot inside you that made your stomach tighten. The wet sound of it was filthy. Eddie groaned under you, head tipping back against the pillow, hands sliding up to cup your breasts as you moved. You found a rhythm and stuck to it, lifting up until only the thick head remained inside you before sinking back down and taking every inch again.

“Fuck—look at you,” he growled, voice strained and filthy. “Stretching that tight little hole around my cock. I can feel you fluttering every time you bottom out. So wet you’re dripping down my balls. That’s it. Fuck yourself on me. Show me how badly you needed to get filled.”

Your thighs started burning sooner than you wanted. The deeper angle made every bounce more intense, the stretch relentless, pleasure building sharp and overwhelming all over again. You kept going anyway—determined—until your legs began to shake so hard you could barely lift yourself. A frustrated little sound slipped out of you.

Eddie felt it immediately.

“I’ve got you,” he rasped.

His hands locked hard around your waist. In the next breath he planted his feet on the mattress and started fucking up into you—powerful, upward thrusts that drove his cock deep enough to punch broken moans out of your mouth every time. The new rhythm was relentless. Wet, filthy sounds filled the room as he slammed up into your soaked cunt, using his grip on your hips to pull you down to meet every stroke.

“That’s it—take every fucking inch,” he snarled, eyes locked on where he disappeared inside you. “Sit on my cock and let me ruin you. This greedy little cunt is sucking me in so deep I can feel it in my spine. Dripping down my stomach like a slut who finally got what she needed.” He thrust up harder, the force of it making your tits bounce. “You feel that? That’s me splitting you open. This is what was missing every time some useless asshole couldn’t make you come. A real cock. A man who knows how to use it.”

Your arms gave out. You collapsed forward onto his chest, face buried against his neck, while he kept pounding up into you without mercy—praise and filthy encouragement spilling out of him in a continuous, wrecked stream.

“Come on. Squeeze me. Cream all over this cock while I fuck you stupid. You’re taking me so well I can barely think. Perfect fucking girl. My perfect fucking girl. Gonna keep this up until you forget how to walk straight.”

Eddie kept fucking up into you in hard, relentless strokes, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room. Your body jolted with every thrust. He was so deep it felt like he was rearranging you from the inside.

His voice came out rough against your ear.

“Touch yourself. Play with that pretty clit while I fuck you. I want to feel you gush on my cock again.”

Your hand slid down between your bodies without hesitation. The second your fingers found your clit—swollen and oversensitive—you cried out. The dual sensation was almost too much: the thick, brutal drag of his cock splitting you open on every upward thrust and the tight circles you rubbed over your clit. Slick coated your fingers immediately. You were so wet it was obscene.

Eddie groaned like he could feel the way your cunt fluttered harder around him the second you started touching yourself.

“That’s it. Good girl. Rub that clit for me. Make a mess. I want to feel you soak my cock.” He snapped his hips up harder, the force of it punching broken, high sounds out of your throat. “Fuck—you’re gripping me so tight. This greedy little cunt doesn’t want to let me go. Come on. Give it to me. Third time’s the charm, sweetheart. Ruin yourself.”

The orgasm tore through you violently.

Your whole body locked up. A broken sob left your mouth as you came hard—cunt clamping down in strong, rhythmic pulses while a fresh gush of wetness flooded out of you around his cock. It was messy, uncontrollable, soaking his stomach, his hips, the sheets beneath you in a warm rush that just kept coming with every thrust he forced through it. The wet sounds turned filthy and loud. You shook apart on top of him, fingers still moving weakly over your clit as the pleasure dragged on and on.

Eddie cursed low and filthy, fucking you through every spurt until your thighs were trembling too hard to stay upright.

He didn’t stop moving, but his rhythm turned slightly more erratic—hips stuttering as he chased his own edge. His hands gripped your waist hard enough to bruise.

“Where do you want it?” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Tell me. Mouth, tits, stomach—where?”

You lifted your head just enough to meet his eyes, still pulsing around him, still dripping.

“Inside me.”

Something raw and hungry flashed across his face.

“Fuck—okay. Anything you want.”

He pulled you down flush against him and buried himself to the hilt, grinding deep as he finally let go. A long, guttural groan tore out of his chest as he came—hot, thick pulses flooding your cunt in heavy spurts. You could feel every throb, every rope of it painting you deep inside. He kept you locked there, hips pressed tight, cock twitching as he emptied everything he had into you with broken, filthy praise spilling from his mouth.

“Take it—take every drop. Filling this perfect cunt up. Made for this. Made to take my cum.” His forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard. “Fucking perfect. You’re perfect.”

He stayed buried deep as the last aftershocks faded, still pulsing weakly inside you, holding you like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

You collapsed onto his chest like every bone in your body had given up at once.

Eddie stayed inside you for a few more long seconds, one hand stroking slowly up and down your back while the other cradled the back of your head. His heartbeat hammered under your ear. When he finally moved, he did it carefully—rolling you both onto your sides, then easing out of you with a soft, wet sound that made you flinch. You felt the immediate rush of his cum starting to leak out of you and made a small, incoherent noise against the pillow.

“I know,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and slipped out of bed. You heard the soft sounds of him moving around the dark room—drawer opening, water running in the bathroom—before he came back with a warm washcloth. The mattress dipped as he climbed back in.

Eddie was gentle about it. He wiped between your legs with slow, careful strokes, cleaning up the mess the two of you had made without any teasing. When he finished he tossed the cloth toward the hamper and stretched out beside you, pulling you in until your head was on his chest and one of his arms was locked securely around your waist.

You were barely able to form words. Your body felt heavy and loose and thoroughly used. Every muscle hummed with leftover sparks. You managed a soft, exhausted sound against his skin and that was about it.

Eddie let the quiet sit for a while, fingers tracing idle patterns along your spine. Then, eventually, the familiar edge of amusement crept back into his voice.

“…So.”

You made a questioning noise that didn’t quite become a word.

“I’m just saying,” he continued, clearly trying and failing to sound casual, “for someone who claimed she’d never come from a dude before, you just came two times on my cock and gushed all over my face like it was your job. I’m feeling pretty fucking proud of myself right now.”

You managed a weak, breathless little laugh against his chest.

“There she is,” he said, sounding deeply satisfied. “Thought I broke you for a second.” His hand slid up to cup the back of your head, thumb stroking behind your ear. “You good? Need water? A trophy? I’m open to suggestions.”

You pinched his side weakly. Your voice came out rough and quiet.

“Shut up.”

“Can’t. I’m having a moment. Do you understand the historical significance of what just happened in this bed? I should call Jess. Let her know the little problem has been thoroughly, scientifically solved.”

You groaned into his chest. “If you call Jess I will actually kill you.”

Eddie laughed—low and warm and completely unrepentant—and pulled you closer, tucking the blankets up around both of you.

“Fine. No phone calls. But I reserve the right to be unbearably smug about this for at least a week.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, voice dropping softer even as the teasing stayed. “You did so good for me. Seriously.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue.

You just let him hold you, the steady rise and fall of his chest under your cheek, while the last of the aftershocks faded and the witty, insufferable version of him settled back in like he’d never left.

Two days later the bar was dead again—same sticky counters, same half-hearted jukebox, same mid-afternoon quiet that made the whole place feel like it was holding its breath.

Eddie had been insufferable since the second he walked in.

He didn’t say anything outright. He didn’t have to. It was in the way he moved around you—closer than usual, hand lingering at the small of your back every time he slipped past, that permanent little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he was replaying the entire night on a loop. Every time you caught his eye across the bar he just raised an eyebrow, slow and filthy, and went back to polishing a glass like he hadn’t just rearranged your entire understanding of sex in his shitty little bungalow.

Jess lasted maybe forty minutes before she cracked.

She leaned across the bar while Eddie was restocking the back, voice low and delighted. “Okay. What the fuck happened.”

You kept wiping the same clean section of counter. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit. He’s been floating around like he invented the orgasm and you keep turning the color of a stop sign every time he looks at you. Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill.”

Eddie chose that exact moment to reappear, carrying a case of beer like it weighed nothing. He set it down, glanced between the two of you, and the smirk widened.

“Talking about me?” he asked, all faux innocence.

Jess pointed at him. “You. Explain why you’re walking around like— like that."

Eddie leaned his elbows on the bar right next to you, close enough that his arm brushed yours. He smelled like the same cologne from the other night. “No idea what you’re talking about. I’m just in a good mood. Weather’s nice. Tips were decent yesterday. Life is beautiful.”

You shot him a warning look. He ignored it completely.

Jess’s eyes narrowed, bouncing between the two of you. Then something clicked. Her mouth fell open.

“Oh my god.”

“Jess—” you started.

“You didn’t.”

Eddie examined his rings like they were suddenly fascinating. “Didn’t what?”

“You fixed the little problem,” she said, voice climbing with glee. “You actually fixed it. Look at her face. Look at your face. Holy shit.”

You dropped the rag and pointed at both of them. “We are not talking about this.”

Jess clasped her hands under her chin. “I need every detail. Immediately. Was it good? Was it life-changing? How many times did you—”

“I will quit,” you said flatly.

Eddie made a thoughtful sound, tilting his head. “Y’know, I’m happy to provide a full report if she’s too shy. In the interest of science. And friendship. And the betterment of women everywhere who’ve been suffering under subpar—”

You shoved his shoulder hard enough that he laughed and had to catch himself on the bar.

“Do not.”

He held up both hands, still grinning like the cat that got everything it ever wanted. “Offer stands. Jess, you just say the word and I’ll give you the entire play by play. ”

Jess looked like Christmas had come early. “I’m listening.”

You grabbed the rag again and turned away, face burning, but you couldn’t quite hide the smile pulling at your mouth.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said, loud enough for only you to catch the undertone, “I’m available for follow-up research whenever you want.”

The bar stayed dead for the rest of the shift.

Somehow that felt exactly right.

kurtsworld966: ur really fcking hot when you rage quit. gonna fuck my fist think about it later

Maybe it was the fact that you really, really needed to get laid. Maybe it was the fact your body felt so tense but that message sent something hot and electric straight to your neglected cunt.

You blink. The familiar soundtrack to the game fades into nothing as you become acutely aware of the sudden urge you had to press your thighs together.

The message clears. One of your mods had deleted it.

You figured that this Kurt guy made a new account just to send through the new message. There was some sick part of you that hoped he’d make another one. 

And he did just that. Barely five minutes later.

kurtsworld9666: bet your pu$$y tastes fucking incredible

One of your mods messages you privately and asks if you want him permanently banned but you’re too busy imagining the faceless stranger’s nose buried deep in your cunt to reply. 

Fuck—you needed to get end the stream.

“I’m going to head off guys,” you announce as you squeeze your thighs together beneath the desk, rubbing yourself against the chair beneath you for a small slither of relief. Your clit nudges the steam of your shorts and something warm jolts through you. You take a breath before plastering a smile on your face. “I’ll be streaming at the same time tomorrow so catch you all then! Good night!”

You click off before you can see all the messages roll in before your mods and followers could ask what was wrong. But instead of turning off your PC, you head straight to kurtsworld96’s Twitch page.

“Fuck,” you mutter when you realise he was blocked. One of your mods must have done it. Probably for the best. He was definitely some creep you shouldn’t want looking at your profile.

But you were horny and curious and it was a dangerous mix that made you hover over the ‘un-block’ button. Your finger taps without really thinking.

Your eyes widened when his profile finally loads.

It was an aggressive clash of colours, of memes that told you this guy was very clearly chronically online. There was an entire section of his profile dedicated to clips of him rage quitting Fortnite. Your eyes flicker to his profile picture and the first thing you notice about him are his eyes—big, brown like a damn puppy dog. He was cute—sure, he looked a little pathetic and he could probably do with a shower or two but he seemed sweet.

The next thing you notice was the stats next to his username. The fact he had been following you for over a year—since your very first steam in fact.

That turned you on even more and you weren’t entirely sure why.

You shut down your computer, grabbing your phone before leaving your streaming room. You were still stupidly horny and didn’t even think about grabbing a glass of water after a long stream. Instead, you headed straight to your bedroom.

You fell back onto your bed as you opened instagram. You hesitated for maybe twenty seconds before you typed in ‘kurtsworld96’ into your search bar. 

His instagram profile was almost identical to his Twitch. Same aggressively cringe graphics, same big brown puppy dogs eyes. The fact he was already following you.

You click on his latest post and your pussy clenches around nothing as you're met with the sight of his bare chest. It was a video of him messing around with what you sure was a fake samurai sword. But you didn’t give a fuck about the sword, too busy staring at this guy’s body. Because fuck, he was pretty. He had a generous smattering of chest hair which was unexpected but you found yourself staring at, mouth hanging open. He had moles and freckles dotted over his body and a soft tummy that you openly ogled.

You swallow, squeezing your thighs together as your fingers scramble to zoom in on those dark sweatpants he was wearing where you were sure you could see the outline of his cock.

But the sudden appearance of a large red heart stops you. 

Shit.

Fuck.

You lock your phone. Your heart hammers in your chest. You feel hot in a way that had nothing to do with how horny you were and everything to do with the accidental like you had just left on his post.

Stupid, stupid, stupid—

Your phone buzzes and you groan, suddenly fighting the urge to throw your phone into the nearest body of water. You take a moment before you glance at your phone but it was just your best friend who had texted you.

Maybe you had imagined it. Maybe you hadn’t really liked Kurt’s post. Maybe you should look again just in case. But one look at Kurt’s profile and you quickly realise you hadn’t imagined it. 

You could block him. You could bury the evidence and save yourself from embarrassment. But you don’t do that. Instead, you bite your lip before you press ‘follow’.

And you wait. Ten seconds, maybe a little more before your phone buzzes pnce again.

This time, it wasn’t your best friend.

holy fucking shit

you followed me?!

fuck

you’re fucking beautiful

i love your streams. you’re so pretty

hi

Your lips twitched as you try not to smile. You were right—he was sweet.

Hi

It was the only thing you could think to type back. You weren’t sure what you were doing, giving this guy attention. He could be crazy, he could be insane. He could be—

Your phone buzzes as Kurt sends through another message. You look down at your phone and—

“Holy fuck.”

You had received a lot of unsolicited dick pics throughout the past year of streaming on Twitch but this one? It had your attention.

Because Kurt’s cock was fucking beautiful. It was thick, long, veiny. It looked fucking heavy as it rested against his soft stomach. A large hand was wrapped around his length and you found yourself focusing on his fingers—on the veins in his hands before you went back to looking at his cock. Your eyes flickering to the tip which was flushed a dark pink and glistening with pre cum. Your mouth feels incredibly dry as you stare at the image for longer than necessary and that coil of desire stirred back up in your gut.

took this when watching ur stream earlier

You swallow, wetting your lips before you shakily type back a reply.

I saw your messages on my stream

You hesitate, your thumbs hovering over your keyboard as you see the three dots to indicate Kurt was typing a reply.

u like my cock?

You figured that this guy had probably never sexted someone before and had you not already seen his glorious cock, you may have thought twice about indulging him. But there was an ache between your thighs that had become impossible to ignore.

Yeah, I really like your cock Kurt

He doesn’t reply instantly. You wonder if you had broken him. You figured you may have done since you would have placed money on the fact that this guy had very limited—if not zero—experience.

You wondered if he was jerking off. If he was touching himself while texting you and you found yourself annoyed at the idea of not being able to see it.

Your fingers fly over the keys before you could stop yourself.

FaceTime me.

Your phone number follows.

You wait for perhaps ten seconds before your phone rings. 

You sit upright in your bed, running your hands through your hair quickly before you take a deep breath. You hadn’t yet changed from your t-shirt and gym shorts you had been wearing during your stream and you were a little self conscious about it. You glance at your phone screen to see an unknown number FaceTiming you. You rest your phone back against your pillows before accepting the call.

“Hi,” you say as Kurt’s face flashes across the screen. Like you, he was laying in bed. His phone seemed to be propped up on his bedside table. He looked completely breathless as he lay back against his sheets, cheeks flushed a pretty pink, those big brown eyes wide and lips swollen and wet as though he had been biting them. You can see yourself in the bottom corner of the screen, perched on your bed with your legs slightly spread and you feel yourself flush with pleasure when Kurt lets out a small groan at the mere sight of you.

“Holy fuck,” he mutters. “You’re fucking—you’re gorgeous. And real. Thank fuck. Not a catfish. That’s good. That’s—”

He was rendered speechless as you stretch your t-shirt taunt over your chest, giving Kurt a clear view of your pebbled nipples through the material.

“Fuck me,” he gasps out, lips parting. “I mean—fuck—I wanna fuck you so bad. Wanna fuck your brains out. Wanna see your pussy stretched over my—”

“—have you done this before, Kurtie?” You ask in a soft voice, head titled. 

Kurt whimpers at the nickname and frantically shakes his head. “No, no, I haven’t. I’ve never—”

“—that’s okay,” you practically purr, your clit throbs in anticipation as you watch Kurt’s face twist in pleasure. “Just watch me.”

“Holy fuck angel, you’re fucking perfect,” he babbles, eyes wide as you shift your position so he could see the globes of your ass peeking beneath your shorts. “Fucking gorgeous and perfect and—”

He cuts himself off, seeming to choke on his own saliva as you begin to lift up your t-shirt to show him your tits.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Kurt gasps out and you watch as he begins to palm himself over his sweatpants. The bulge there was hard to miss and you hastily tug off your t-shirt so you could run your hands over the sensitive flesh of your breasts.

You hum, head thrown back in pleasure as your fingers circle your nipples, your hips moving of their own accord as you grinded against your sheets. Your panties and shorts were starting to feel damp from how wet you had become. You desperately wanted to peel them off but you pulled your focus back to Kurt as you continued to play with your sensitive peaks.

He was whimpering, hand still desperately palming himself—eyes fixed on you and a bit of drool hanging from his mouth. It was pathetically hot.

You smiled at the screen sweetly as you trailed a hand down to the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down enough to expose your baby blue panties. 

“Show me your cock, Kurtie,” you tell him breathlessly. “Wanna see your pretty cock.”

You could have told him to throw himself in front of a car and he probably would have obliged.

His hands scramble to tug down his sweatpants and boxers at the same time. You hear him curse several times in his haste to do as you say. You continue to roll your nipple between your fingers, biting back your own small moan at the sensation as your other hand moves to cup your needy cunt over your shorts.

“Shiiiiit, you’re so fucking hot, baby,” Kurt tells you in a strained voice. You hear the faint sound of skin slapping against skin and your eyes flutter open just in time to see his cock slap against his stomach.

Your mouth feels dry again and suddenly, the pressure of your hand against your cunt isn’t enough anymore.

“Shit—are you going to—”

Your hands slip inside your shorts before Kurt could finish his sentence. You were soaked. That much was immediately clear as you ran your fingers along the damp patch your slick had left in your panties. Your hips bucked instinctively and you let out a soft moan as you repeated the action.

“Shit—fuck—you’re so fucking hot. You’re so fucking hot.”

You smile a little, eyes closed as you press down on your clothed clit and mewl out Kurt’s name.

Kurt felt like he had died and gone to heaven.

There was a brief moment of silence and then—an obscene sound of slickness on the other end of the FaceTime call.

Your eyelids flutter open just in time to see Kurt—a hand wrapped around his thick cock—as he stares at you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect. Fucking beautiful. Fucking gorgeous. Touching yourself because of me? Fuccccck.”

He’s babbling, complete and utter nonsense and that leaves your body buzzing. He was so eager—so fucking eager to please you, even over the phone and each compliment went straight to your cunt. 

Your hand slips out of your shorts so you could tug them off, along with your panties and Kurt’s movement stops for a brief second as you lay back so he could get a clear view of your glistening pussy.

“Holyfuckingshit, holyfuckingshit—”

The needy tone of his voice was everything you needed and more, your fingers glided easily between your folds and you didn’t think twice before you plunge a finger inside of yourself.

“Fucccck,” you hear Kurt gasp out. You could hear him pumping his leaking dick frantically, eyes feasting greedily on the way your finger pumps in and out of your dripping hole, your breasts bouncing with each and every thrust. “Look at her. Fucking looking at her.”

You let out a high pitch moan as you add a second finger, your head falling back against your sheets as you continue to fuck yourself with your slick fingers. Your hips bucking upwards to meet your movements, your eyes rolling back into your head and Kurt’s name falling repeatedly from your lips.

“You’re such a good boy, Kurtie,” you moan out as you plunge your fingers deep into your sobbing pussy, slick sounds filling the room obscenely. “Such a good boy. S’fucking good f’me.”

Pleasure was spreading through you—white hot and making everything around you feel sharper. The coil in your gut was pulled tight and all you could hear was the schlick, schlick, schlick from Kurt fucking himself with his fist.

“I’m gonna be so good,” Kurt was babbling desperately, whimpers falling unabashedly from his lips as he stroked his length over and over again at the sight of you. “I’ll be such a good boy. I’ll be so fucking good f’you.”

Slick was dripping down your wrist as your other hand joined the fray—your finger circling your clit once and causing your hips to jerk upwards as pleasure pulsed through every nerve in your body.

“Fuccck, I’m gonna cum. Gonna cum. Let me cum angel, please? I need to cum. Please. Please. I’ll be so good. I’ll be so fucking good—”

“Cum. Cum for me, Kurtie. Please be a good boy and cum for me,” you gasp out as you continue to fuck yourself with your hand toys with swollen clit. 

And Kurt? He does exactly what you ask of him.

He lets out a strangled whimper of your name as he spills his release all over his fist and stomach. You watch, memorised, at the amount of cum that was spilling out of him. Fuck, it was hot. Watching his hips desperately jerk as he babbles your name like it was the only word he knew.

And it was that—him whimpering out your name like that—was the thing that pushed you over the edge. Heat surged through you, sending shock waves through every nerve in your body as your orgasm crashed over you. Your thighs shook, your juices dripped down onto the sheets beneath you and your breasts heaved heavily as your body attempted to recover from the intensity of your release.

The only sounds that came from you and Kurt was the both of you trying to catch your breath.

“Can we do this again?” you hear Kurt ask tentatively. “Soon?”

You blink slowly before sitting upright, your eyes flickering to your phone to see Kurt looking at you. His stomach was painted white from his own cum but he didn’t care as his big brown eyes looked at you pleadingly. Honestly, he looked as though he might cry if you said no.

Lucky for him, there wasn’t a part of you that wanted to say that word.

“Of course Kurtie,” you say with a gentle smile. “You wanna come round tomorrow after my stream?”

Kurt’s eyes practically bulge out of his head.

“You want—this—in person? Are you—”

“—I’m sure,” you say before he could second guess himself. “I’ll text you my address.”

Kurt swallows before nodding frantically. “Yeah—that’s um—great. Perfect, yeah. I’ll be over.”

You smile because fuck, this guy was sweet. So fucking sweet and you couldn’t wait to make him a whimpering mess all over again.

“Cool. See you tomorrow Kurt.”

You lean forward, picking up your phone to end the call but Kurt says your name and you pause, looking at him expectantly.

“You look really pretty when you cum,” he tells you softly. The words make you feel hot and it had nothing to do with the orgasm you had just had and everything to do with the guy with the big brown eyes looking at you like you hung the stars.

“So you do,” you tell him sincerely, your heart thumping in your chest as he flushes pink. You need to hang up before you tell him he looked pretty when he was flustered too. “See you tomorrow, Kurt.”

“Yeah. Tomorrow, angel.”

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“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.

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

steve knew it was wrong, he wasn't completely delusional. however, the reward of climbing the trellis onto the roof of your garage which was ever so helpfully at a perfect height for him to stand on to peek at you through the pretty, lace curtains and into your bedroom, was much greater than any moral discomfort he may have after the fact.

steve's gaze tracked each movement you made. how your head tipped back, throat bared and tempting him to sink his teeth into the delicate flesh. how your back arched in pleasure, as your hips ground faster and harder against the pillow clenched between your trembling thighs. how the muscles in your calves tightened and your toes scrunched with each frantic roll of your cunt against the cotton.

breathy 'eh eh eh's' drifted through the small crack at the bottom of the window. steve's eyes fluttered shut as his mind drifted away from him to thoughts of you, spread out in his sheets, a thin sheen of sweat accumulating over your sweet smelling skin as his cock bullied into your puffy cunt over, and over, and over, and over again until your airy little whimpers became harsher cries of—

"daddy!"

steve's eyes snapped open, head spinning as he fixated on you. slumped forward, back arched with your cheek smushed against your pretty pink sheets. your eyes were rolled back and your jaw hung slack, drool sliding from plump lips creating a dark smear on the fabric.

"da-daddy. ohhh fuck. fuck i- ahh!"

you rolled off the pillow and onto your back, legs spreading wide, baring you to the window. your hand rushed down between your legs, dipping between your dripping folds before rising to rub tight circles against your swollen clit.

"ohmygod ohmygod!" you squealed, words blurring together as your eyes screwed shut and your head pushed back against the mattress. your spare hand grabbed at your breast, squeezing at the supple skin before pulling at the sensitive bud. "pleaseee!"

each shrill cry and broken whimper went straight to steve's rock hard cock which had began twitching painfully against the tight denim of his pants. he pushed his hips against the wall, mouth dropping open in a silent moan at the feeling. now that he'd started he couldn't stop. his eyes stayed fixed on you, thrusting your hips up to meet your shaking hand, as he continued to grind his hips against the brick.

your fingers slipped down, pushing two easily into your slit, curling them up against the spongy spot in your walls. you pushed yourself up on your elbow, head lulling forward as your fingers worked you closer and closer. your thighs pulled up against you tighter, and your feet left the bed, toes curling at the feeling coiling deep inside.

your words we're disappearing now, in their place echoed choked whines and groans. in the silences, steve could hear the wet sounds emanating from your cunt. his teeth sunk down into his lip hard to stop his grunts from giving him away. his hips rocked harder against the wall now and he had to fight to keep his eyes open and trained on you.

your lips opened around a guttural, broken scream and your legs began to quiver as you suddenly climaxed. your muscles began spasming as your fingers left your pussy to rub against your clit. liquid gushed out of you, drenching your sheets. the feeling was so intense that your arm holding you up buckled and you crumpled against the bed.

steve whined, as he followed you, body clenching and hips stuttering as his own peak hit. his hand banged against the window, grappling for anything that would ground him in his high. luckily, you were too overcome with your own please to register the noise. steve's head hung forward, panting heavily as he looked down at the dark, sticky patch on the front of his jeans. he knew he had to go, but as he glanced back up at you he didn't know if he could.