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that-student-that-has-homework · 2 months

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Matching - Portgas D. Ace

Find more of my work here: Tumblr MasterList

This is a little idea I had for a larger Ace fanfic I'm working on. I might revise this! Please let me know if he's in character or not...I'm starting to have my doubts.

It had been the better part of a week. No, maybe a whole week at this point. While before you’d spend most of your free time around him, now you were constantly “busy.” Heck sometimes he even finds it difficult to find you on the Moby Dick! Was this the end of the honeymoon phase everyone warned him about?

Were you starting to get tired of him?

You kept sneaking around...without him! Before you used to sneak around together! Worse still is…every time he pops up to see you, you always seem like you're hiding something. It's like quickly stashed papers, and tightly clenched fists. It’s the way you spin on your heel, and tense up, when you used to not do that at all.

What was maddening was how when the evenings would hit, or even at random parts of the day, you’d run and crash into him with a huge hug. You’d beam at him bright and genuine just upon seeing him, heck you’d be practically vibrating with joy as you’d squeeze the life out of him. He’d almost turned to fire once.

Maybe you weren’t tired of him?

When you did cuddle with him, your eyes seemed to linger on the tattoo on his arm. He’d even woken up to you tracing it with your finger once before. You’d looked sheepish that he’d caught you admiring it…actually you looked a little…panicked too…

You’d squirmed in his grasp when he asked you about it. Saying things like how it’s pretty, and how it’s a tattoo unique to him, so you were admiring it. You're pretty good at dodging his line of questioning whenever he voices his suspicions about your behavior. You were also incredibly sneaky about distracting him with your affections, and by the time he’s regained his original line of thought, you’d already be gone.

There's something fishy in the air and it's not the sea king he caught the other day.

He only finds out what it is you'd been scheming behind his back when he gets back from a mission. He was so distracted for most of it. He couldn’t figure out why you were so clearly avoiding him sometimes…were you having second thoughts? What was going on? Was this an elaborate prank?

He was still in a daze as he made his way back to the Moby Dick. You used to bring peace, yet right now you’d thrown him into turmoil. He hated the way he was doubting you. He hated not knowing what was wrong.

“Hey look Ace’s back!”

“How’d it go champ?”

“Aaaaaaacee!” It was your voice that pulled him back completely.

He’d barely had a moment to look up than you’d thrown yourself on him with a hug. The force of it all almost send him toppling backwards. His hat had been knocked off his head, and he could feel the press of its medallion on his throat. He's relieved at how genuinely happy you are to see him, yet still an unease twists up his stomach in knots.

You pull away much too quickly, pulling his arms and rotating them, checking for any damage. The way you're checking up on him to make sure he's not hurt and that he's okay floods his entire system with warmth. Yet he can't help the constriction in his chest and the nagging as to what it was that had you sneaking around before he left if you missed him this badly?

He can hear the crew laughing at the obvious display of affection.

“Being bold there little missy,” they taunt you.

You shrink in on yourself a bit, embarrassment catching up to you. However when you take his hand in yours, and whistles and cheers break out, “I was doing it for Ace,” the timidity in the lines of your shoulders and face brings the heat to his own face, “I thought he might like it.”

He squeezes your hand in his. Yet his brain screams at him, then what was all that sneaking around about?

Unsure how to deal with things, he just studies you closely as you ask him about how things went and how the mission was. You're not up to anything really, or at least it doesn't seem like it. You're as attentive and engaged as ever, things are just as they used to be before.

You drag him to the kitchen, knowing he must be hungry as he usually is after a mission. You even sit with him in your little corner of the mess hall while he eats, something you hadn’t done much prior to his departure. He's talking to you about the guy with the interesting abilities that he'd fought with his mouth full, and you're indulging him.

Yet even as he tries to fall into your old pattern, the confusion only festers further. What had been going on with you?

He feels absolutely awful, doubting you with the way you’re listening to him like he's the most interesting guy in the world. To be fair, to you, he really is. He keeps talking and chewing and answering your questions, yet the thing he really wants to talk about is bubbling just below the surface. Somehow all the tension and excitement peaks and he goes head first into his plate of food.

When he finally comes back to, there’s no food on his face, and he’s resting on his arms on the dinner table, his plate off to his side. You’re still next to him, gently brushing your fingers through his hair, patiently de-tangling any clumps you come across. He groans while sitting up and blinking the sleep away.

“You’re up,” you observe aloud, “here let me clear these out of the way for you.”

You get up from beside him, unthinkingly pulling your sleeves up your forearms, and reach for the plates around him. He notices something odd about one of your hands as you walk away with the stack of plates in your hands, but before he can say much you're already on your way to the kitchen counter. He watches you, lethargically shoving food in his mouth as you hand the dishes over to Thatch, who looks at your hands, then looks his way for a moment with an amused grin.

He could actually hear the next thing as the cook raised his voice, “nah leave those dishes to me, go hang out with your loverboy.”

Had the pirate not shoved you away with a plate of food in hand, Ace got the feeling you would have pointedly ignored Thatch’s teasing to do the dishes. You walked back, your brow and lips pursed in a kind of indignation. He couldn’t help the little huff of amusement. You’d gotten much better at handling their teasing over time, but he wouldn’t deny it was cute how it would get to you sometimes.

You took a seat beside him again, sliding the plate the cook had given you towards him. Your…well he could only hope he was still really your beloved, just stared at you in silence as he chewed. For some reason it made you squirm.

That’s it. He’d had enough. He has to figure this out. You’d said it yourself, it’s really important to communicate things! That’s how relationships last!

“You’ve been real weird lately,” was what came out as he grabbed the new plate of food, “you been avoiding me?”

His brow furrowed at the way your gaze immediately fell, taking your expression with it, and how you began to fidget with your fingers - a nervous - wait. Ace’s hand extended to grab your left one, bringing it up to his face.

There on your left wrist, right where your pulse sat, in black ink sat the letters ASCE, arranged horizontally and smaller, but a perfect replica of his own otherwise. Instinctively he rubbed his thumb across it, almost as though he was checking to make sure this wasn’t an illusion and that wasn’t just normal ink from a pen.

You were looking back at him, he could see it in the way your shoulders bunched near your ears, and the wobble of your lips, and how you couldn’t keep eye contact for too long, but kept glancing back at him…you were nervous. He absentmindedly began drawing circles on your wrist, just staring at you.

“I was avoiding you, I guess,” you admitted, “I was hoping to surprise you with that,” your free hand moved to play with the hem of your shirt, as you shrunk even more, “was it presumptuous of me? Should I have asked first?”

“For a second I thought I’d managed to chase you away,” he admitted quietly, looking back down at the mark of permanence you’d etched into your skin, “that you’d gotten sick of me.”

You snatched your hand away before he could think, moving in to embrace him, “get sick, of you? Then I’d be a tasteless heathen or…whatever, unworthy of you- totally - completely - absolutely unworthy of you!”

Your arms tighten around him, “I’m so sorry I put you through that love.”

“All that sneaking around was for this tattoo?” He couldn’t help the involuntary little crack in his voice. “You really did surprise me darlin’.”

He pulls away from you first and his hands find your wrists, and his eyes again fall onto the symbol, the symbol of him, lovingly tattooed into your skin. A mark to let people know just who put the ring on your finger.

He didn’t look up from it, even when you spoke up again, “Ace,” he just traced circles over the mark that sat proudly in bold black letters, “I’m really sorry that I made you feel that way - wait does that sound? It’s not-no wait. It’s my fault!” He glanced up at you for a moment as you struggled to put what you wanted to say into words, working strenuously to apologize sincerely.

His lips wobbled upwards.

He couldn’t help it.

You’d gone out of your way, to tattoo his mark onto your body. He couldn’t help but stare at it as he continued to rub circles with his thumb. Not only that, you were straining yourself so much all because he voiced that damned insecurity of his.

“I didn’t mean to put you through that?” You tried again. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I didn’t want to hurt you.” You paused, and he felt you move closer. “I’m sorry if what I did hurt you-no-I’m sorry that I did hurt you.”

There was a pricking at the corners of eyes, as he finally took his eyes off your little gift to him to look at you. There was a kind of relief, or maybe it was appreciation? Maybe even a tinge of surprise? He was touched, that was one thing he knew for sure-if the fire that burned in his chest was any indication. He was a sick bastard for appreciating this, wasn’t he? Seeing you so genuinely apologetic - it was alarming really, did he really deserve this apology when he was doubting you? How could he ever hope to compete with this?

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for, doll,” his voice was uncharacteristically quiet as he continued to rub circles into your wrists.

“No I do,” you insisted, “Ace, I’m happy you’re communicating how you felt to me,” you responded quietly, but firmly, “so don’t downplay how it felt when I was the one being sneaky.”

“You didn’t mean any harm though,” his lips pull into a gentle smile as he slowly brings your tattooed pulse up to brush his lips against it before flicking his gaze to meet yours, “you were here prepping this lovely gift for me and I was only thinking of myself.”

A smirk tugs at his lips at the way you have to shake yourself out of whatever spell he’d placed you under, “just because I didn’t mean any harm, doesn’t mean I didn’t do any harm,” you press on, shuddering a bit when he brushes another kiss to your pulse, “if you did the same, I’d probably have felt the same way too, you have nothing to feel bad about.”

“Forgive me for doubting you, cariña?”

He almost laughs at the affronted look you give him, firing back a, “forgive me for hurting you, love?”

“Nothing to forgive,” he’s smiling more now, “I’m glad you were being so sneaky, made this surprise all the better.”

“Don’t downplay your feelings Portgas D. Ace,” he could hear your frown, “your feelings are important to me, you’re important to me.”

“My full name cariña?” He couldn’t help but tease.

“Yes,” you answered immediately and he looked up to see how upset you looked - it was almost annoying - he’d rather not dwell, “I want you to get just how upset you were off your chest.”

That got a chuckle out of him, despite the irritation that was rising.

“I don’t want to think about it too much,” his smile fell for a moment, “I don’t want to ruin this happy moment with stupid emotions in the past.”

“But I don’t want them to fester-”

“Mi amor,” he looked at you, almost pleading, “it’s true I felt like you were ignoring me, but seeing your little surprise makes me the happiest man on the five seas.”

Seems that was enough to quiet you. Though… “six, if you include the All Blue.”

When you chuckled at him, he felt his smile returning. He honestly couldn’t care less about the past. He’d said his piece, you’d talked it out, he didn’t care anymore.

“So, you know I love you right?” The timid way in which you asked was enough to knock the wind out of him.

Yet, he grinned, and brought your marked pulse up to lips again, “I love you too.”

“Oi get a room!” The two of you startled at the sudden shout coming from the other end of the mess hall. “Sure we can barely see you in your little corner, but the lovey-dovey energy in here is off the charts!”

“Shut up Thatch!” Ace fired back. “You’re just mad you can’t gossip to Marco about it!”

“You’re the one blocking the show!”

“Good!”

“It’s real funny though,” there was a pause, “who’d have thought the wild Fire Fist was actually a huge pile of mush!”

With the newfound yelling, people started to file into the mess hall. Which was when he noticed it was mostly empty prior to that. Of course among the people who filed in was the aforementioned first division commander.

“You like your little surprise Ace?” He asked the younger man.

“Wait you knew?”

“Who else would she ask yoi?” The medic gave him a lazy grin before turning to you. “So, did you get to say what you wanted to say yoi?”

Ace studied you as you shook your head looking both disappointed and sheepish.

“What did you want to say?” He couldn’t help but ask.

You huffed, a sheepish smile wobbling your lips, as you moved to his left side, your right hand pushing his upper arm to show more of his tattoo.

"See,” you held up your own tattooed wrist next to his arm, “now we match."

Extra:

Ace later: “I’m gonna marry her.”

Marco (who is next to him): “aren’t you already married?”

#portgas d ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x you #one piece x reader #one piece x you #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace fluff #portgas d ace #portgas d ace fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece #ace one piece

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acewithapaintbrush · 1 year

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"My dad has the hots for your dad!"

Amity can only stare as Hunter slams his hands down on the table she is working at. He glares at her with narrow eyes and a mouth pressed firmly into a thin line. The perfect picture of determination and confidence.

"What. Did you just say?"

He immediately deflates at her pointed and icy tone. His hands leave her table and fidget with his overalls and hair instead while he squirms from side to side, eyes averted and cheeks blushing.

"I-uhm. I read that in one of Mama Camila's books. It- well, I mean, it means-"

Amity cuts him off. "I know what it means. Didn't Camila forbid you from reading them?"

Them being the small paperbacks with the half naked humans on the front. Usually a woman in distress with a very well built male, rescuing her from certain doom with wet hair and big abs. The first time Camila had caught Hunter reading one of them she'd almost burst a blood vessel and ripped it right out of his hands.

"Nonononono," she had chanted and hugged a perplexed Hunter to her chest, carding a hand through his hair. "Those books are way too spicy for an innocent, cute boy like you!"

Hunter huffs and puffs. "I'm an adult. She can't tell me what to read." At Amity's raised eyebrow he mutters "And she didn't find the one hidden under my mattress."

He shakes his head and takes her shoulders to shake her a little. She allows it, 'cause she can see how agitated he is. "But that's not the point! Darius has… he likes your dad. As in like-like! And we gotta figure out how we feel about that."

Amity thinks about Darius. The dashing rebel, who had been pulling the strings of an uprising in the shadows from the start. A headstrong abomination user. He would definitely be a big step up from Odalia, that's for sure.

She imagines Darius as her father's new partner and discovers that she is more than okay with that.

Amity is not naive. She knows her father needs a headstrong partner at his side, someone who is not afraid to take the reins in a relationship. Not like Odalia, who's taken that to mean that she should micromanage every facet of his life and turn him into someone he is not, but someone who reminds her father to eat and to leave work alone every once in a while.

"I approve." Amity says and seeing Hunter's desolate expression narrows her eyes. "You got a problem with my dad?"

"What?" Hunter lets her shoulders go as if they have burned him. "No, of course not! He's super cool! I just… Arrrrrg!" He rapidly runs his hands through his hair. "I just don't know if I can handle a second parental figure!"

"Uhhh."

He starts walking up and down in front of her, Waffles flying after him with happy little trills. "Things with Darius are good right now. He told me to call him Dad and it's… It's yeah, you know? But it's also a bit awkward sometimes, you know? The only father figure I ever had before… Well. And we are still trying to find our rhythm, you know? How am I supposed to deal with another parent right now?"

"Hunter!" Amity has to shout to get him to stop. She can't believe she is having this conversation right now. "Hunter. You do know that you have like, four parental adults in your life. Don't you?"

He blinks at her and his blank face tells her everything she needs to know. She wants to face-palm so bad right now. "What?"

Amity starts counting on her hand. "You call Camila Mama Camila."

"Wha- But that's just-", he splutters. Amity talks right over him.

"Eda calls you her Fledgling at least once a week and she and Raine are kinda a packaged deal. Grandma and Grandpa Clawthorne call you son so often, I don't even know if they know your real name. Every time Lilith fusses over your scars she mutters 'my poor boy' under her breath. And let's not forget Willow's parents who took one look at you and had the adoption papers ready." Amity looks at her hands, which have barely been enough to count on. "Oh look at that. Not four but eight, actually."

Hunter looks gobsmacked and not a little teary eyed. Amity pats his shoulders, just a little relieved that he has apparently forgotten about their parents budding romance over this new revelation. She'd rather not get involved in that for as long as possible.

"Face it, Hunter. You are pretty much public son number one at this point."

🐦🐦🐦🐦🐦

There is no reason for this except that I had the image of hunter saying "my dad has the hots for your dad" and me running with it

#the owl house #owl house #the owl house fanfiction #toh hunter #toh amity #the owl house hunter #the owl house amity #the owl house darius #the owl house alador #darius x alador #darius and hunter #aladarius

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holylulusworld · 1 month

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TOL - I’m your daddy now (2) - Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You reached the end of the rope.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader

Warnings: plus-sized reader, needy Lloyd, Lloyd being Lloyd, trouble, mentions of cheating (her ex), groping, breeding kink, smut, unprotected sex, implied oral (fem rec), sex on a table, doggy style, daddy Lloyd (not the kinky kind of daddy), Lloyd mentions anal sex (implied)

A/N: This is part of my Traders of love (lust) masterlist series. It’s the prequel to TOL - Like a virgin (Bucky Barnes) and tells the story about Lloyd and his assistant sunshine. It will lead toward Ari’s story. We will see their relationship throughout all other stories.

TOL - I’m your daddy now (1)

“Hands off, Mr. Hansen!” You slap Lloyd’s hand away. He tried to grab a handful of your ass, but you won’t have it. “Your filing system is a joke, and I don’t have time to deal with your libido while sorting all the files your former assistant hid under her desk.”

“Take the rest of the day off,” he stands behind you to press his firm body against yours. “I know your boss won’t mind. He pays you to look pretty and keep him happy.”

“I took the job for the money, not a limp dick. I already had a limp dick. He’s the reason I’m here. He wanted to push his useless dick into some new snatch. So, keep it in your pants. I don’t need dick. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Oh sunshine,” Lloyd brushes his hand over your ass,” don’t you want to feel the healing power of my cock fucking you six ways from Sunday? Only Lloyd Hansen can fuck you so good you forget all of your problems.”

“If that was true, I’d gladly ride your dick every time of the day,” you turn around to push against Lloyd’s shoulder. Since the day you walked into his office two months ago, he tried to get into your pants. – Or rather between your legs.

“Sunshine, be careful what you are wishing for,” Lloyd leans closer. “Tell me the problem that needs solving, and it’s gone. After I solved all of your problems, I want you to fulfill your promise and let me get my hands on that juicy ass and inside your sweet cunt.”

“My car broke down. My husband ran off with some skank and stole my money. I’m struggling to keep the roof over my baby boy’s head. And my son will grow up without a dad,” you huff and glare at Lloyd. “I don’t think you’ll be able to solve any of my problems.”

“Hmmm…” He nods and turns around to grab a piece of paper and a pen. “Car, deadbeat ex, money, house, daddy,” Lloyd notes. “Give me a month, cupcake and you’ll see all of your problems will vanish.”

“Sure-“ you grunt and shove against his chest when he tries to kiss you. “I got work to do, Sir. We have an appointment with your next victim in not two hours.”

“Victim? The ladies get money and grand-prime dicks they can choose. I force no one to fuck one of our clients. They come here to make money and get their pussies pounded like never before.”

“Just tell this to yourself,” you stick your tongue out. “Now, chop-chop. Get to work. We don’t have all day. I need to pick my baby boy up after work.”

“I’d like to work that body of yours,” he grins but turns around to walk into his office. “I hope you know that you got me rock-hard again, sunshine. The moment I solved all of your problems; I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

“Empty promises won’t make me wet,” you call after Lloyd. “If not for the money, I’d quit. And just you know, I hate that mustache!”

“You love it here, and working for me,” he grunts. “Just you know, if you ever get to ride my mustache, you’ll scream my name!”

“What the…?” You look at the keys of your cars in your hands and then at the parking lot. “That’s not my car!”

“Ah, there you are cupcake,” Lloyd purrs while you look around the parking lot to find your car. “Do you like your brand-new car?” He wraps one arm around your shoulders and pecks your cheek. “It’s a BMW X7, safe for kids and the ladies love it.”

“I don’t understand,” you lick your lips. “That’s not my car.”

“One problem solved, four more to go,” he kisses your cheek again, lips lingering a little longer. “Go ahead and pick your baby boy up. I bet he’ll love it too.”

Lloyd drops the keys to the car in your hands. “I—I can’t… where is my car?” You look at the keys in your hands.

“I got all your shit from your car and got rid of it. The papers are in the car. It’s yours, sunshine,” he grins. “I got work to do.”

You don’t get to protest. Lloyd walks away, whistling as you stand in front of the new car.

“You can’t just…what?”

“I don’t understand,” you rub your tired eyes. “I had fifteen bucks in my bank account. Now it says I got two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in my bank account. This can’t be right!”

“Miss, I checked your account thrice. It was there for almost five years,” she snaps at you. “It’s not my problem you have bad eyes.”

You blanch at her words. “If you say so,” you’re too tired and shocked to argue. You grab your things and walk out of the bank. This can’t be true. Your balance has been negative since your husband left you.

“Morning sunshine,” Lloyd greets you with a smack on your ass. “So, did you buy something nice?”

“What?” You glance at the paper bag filled with his breakfast and the coffee you got him on your way to work. “It’s your breakfast and the monstrosity you call your coffee.”

“Baby cakes, I didn’t get all of your money back and gave you a bonus for your hard work only for you to not buy you shiny things.”

“What? I—” You try to swallow the lump in your throat. “That was you?”

“I told you,” He grabs the bag with food and coffee to place it on your desk. “That I’ll solve all of your problems.” You end up in his arms, his face buried in your neck to nuzzle you. “I can’t wait to pound that pretty pussy. I bet you are hiding a hungry beast between those thighs.”

“Lloyd! Mr. Hansen!” You try to push Lloyd off of you when someone enters the building. “We have company.”

“Let them watch,” he purrs and nuzzles you again. “Did you ever take it up your ass, sunshine? I bet you didn’t.”

“Lloyd, a word,” a tall man with a thick beard, and dirty-blonde, shaggy hair steps toward you and Lloyd. He rolls his eyes as your boss shamelessly gropes your ass. “Lloyd! We need to talk. I need your help with something.”

“Not the ballerina girl again,” Lloyd sighs against you. “Ari, I told you to forget about her. She’s not one of my girls.”

You push against Lloyd’s shoulders to make him budge. “How can we help you, Sir?” You ask. The man doesn’t look like he has the patience to wait or to put up with Lloyd’s antics.

“Levinson, follow me to my office,” Lloyd finally turns his attention toward the impatient man. “I’ll see what I can do to get you laid.”

“I don’t want to get laid,” Levinson grunts. “I want her to be mine. She’s perfect for me. I just know it.”

“Perfect,” Lloyd hums. “Did you already get a taste of her cunt? I bet you didn’t and that’s why your aching dick tells you to marry her.”

You shake your head and try to focus on work, not the fact that Lloyd’s profession revolves around getting guys laid.

“You’ve got to be shitting me!” You growl into your phone. “You have the nerve to call me to ask for forgiveness? How about you ask your son for forgiveness? No, forget it!” You snarl. “If you dare to get close to my baby boy, I’ll cut your limp dick off!”

You throw your phone against the wall, watching it shatter to the ground. Your chest heaves up and down and you’re close to attacking anyone coming to your path.

“Cupcake! What happened?” Lloyd pokes his head out of his office, aware that you are not in the mood to get messed with.

“He dared to call me to apologize!”

“Who?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“My ex-husband,” you grunt. “He told me that he transferred the rest of the money he stole from our accounts back and that he’ll sign the divorce papers.”

“That’s good, right?” He slowly steps out of his office, keeping an eye on you. “That’s what you wanted. To get your money back and his dead weight off of your back.”

“WAIT!” You round your desk to stalk toward Lloyd. “That was you!!!”

“Guilty,” Lloyd grins. “Problem number three is solved. And I roughed him up a little for you.” He shrugs. “I’m getting closer to the honey pot.”

Your mouth falls open. You don’t have a comeback this time.

“Don’t tempt me to shove something more than my tongue into your mouth. You better close it or you’ll be choking on my dick, sunshine.”

“You can’t just…” You throw your hands up when Lloyd turns around to walk back inside his office.

“I can and did, cupcake. Now get back to work. I’d hate to let you work overtime,” he grins and closes the door. “Only if it includes you impaled on my dick.”

“He…and then…” You can’t believe Lloyd roughed your douchebag of an ex up for you.

Why would he put so much effort into seducing you?

He’s a good-looking man if you ignore his personality and his annoying stache. Lloyd could have any woman, but he wants you – his chubby assistant with a kid and more problems than you can count.

Something must be wrong with him…

“Lloyd? What are you doing here?” You stare at your boss standing in front of your door. “My son is here! I can’t have you grope me or shit!”

“Relax, cupcake,” he grins. “I come in peace. I wanted to talk about a few things with you. My latest client needs our help, a special service.”

“Special service?”

“We must attend a dance class to help him,” Lloyd says. “Can we discuss this now or do you want to slap my ass for coming here first?” He furrows his brows. “What will it be?”

“Dance class?”

“Yup,” he nods. “How about I invite you for dinner and we can talk about joining a dance class to help him.”

“I got my son here, Lloyd.”

“Perfect,” he claps his hands. “I’m burning to get to know you mini-me. We will order food then and your kiddo can watch me do my job.”

“If you curse in front of my son, I’ll castrate you!” You point your index finger at Lloyd. “I’m warning you.”

“I’m a saint in the streets and a devil in the sheets,” he smirks. “I’ll behave. Promised.”

While you wait for the delivery service, Lloyd looks around your living room. He hums and sits next to your son on the sofa. “So, bud. How are you holding up?”

Your son looks up at Lloyd, squealing as he stares at Lloyd’s mustache. “Dadda?” Your son clumsily gets on his feet to stand up and grasp Lloyd’s face. “Dadda!”

“Hey, watch out, bud!” Lloyd grasps for your son before he can drop off the sofa. “Phew, you’re a handful, just like your mommy, huh? Let me get a good look at you.” Your boss smirks. “Look at you, you little shit. You’ve got your mommy’s eyes and damn me; you’d look good with a mustache.”

“What are you doing?” You gape at the scene. Lloyd is lifting your son to play airplane while your son squeals and babbles.

“Daddy!” Your son blubbers, making your heart ache. “DADDY!”

“Yeah, bud,” Lloyd looks you straight in the eyes, grinning. “I’m your daddy now. That deadbeat piece of … “ He clears his throat and reconsiders his choice of words, “crap can get fucked!”

“Lloyd!”

“Sorry, I meant he can ride into the sunset, and I hope a truck runs him over,” he grins and lifts your son up and down. “You are a cute little shit. No one will know you’re not mine. I’ll just make you mine.”

“What are you up to?” You try to fathom what’s going on, but the doorbell rings and you must get the food you ordered.

“One spoon for daddy,” Lloyd smirks watching your son shovel the food he ordered for him into his mouth. The peas and some of the meat end up on the table, but Lloyd doesn’t care. “And another one for mommy.”

“This isn’t funny, Lloyd,” you snarl. “If you fuck with me, fine. But keep my kid out of this.”

“Cupcake, no swear words in front of the kid,” Lloyd tuts. “I’m not playing games here. I want you, and you come with a cute little package. So, I’ll claim him as mine too.”

He turns his attention back toward your son. Lloyd grabs a napkin and wipes your son’s mouth. “We will teach you how to eat without dropping everything on the ground. Soon you will steal all the ladies’ hearts, bud.”

You shake your head and huff. This must all be a game to Lloyd.

There is no way he is interested in playing daddy for your son…

“Another problem solved,” Lloyd lazily leans back on your sofa and groans. “Damn, that food was great. I’m full.” He pats his perfectly defined abs. “I’ll raise your cute little shit and he’s got a daddy staying for longer than it takes to fill your cunt up.”

“Is all a joke to you?” You throw your hands up. “I get that you like to toy with me, but bringing my son into this shit is a new low.” You kneel on the sofa and bend over. “If you want to fuck me, do it now and leave my son alone. Come on, get it inside.”

“Y/N,” he gets off the couch to grope your ass. “I’d love to stick my dick into this perfect cunt, but I’m into this for the long haul.” He slaps your ass. “Stop being all mopey. I told you I like the little shit. He’s my son, and you are my dirty little slut. But you can call yourself my fiancé from now on.”

“Your—what?” you look over your shoulder. “Lloyd, my son cannot watch another father leave his life. You’ll break his little heart. Don’t do this.”

“I told you,” He huffs, “I’m here to stay. The boy is mine, just like his needy mommy.” His eyes drop to your ass, and he licks his lips. “All the dirty things I’m going to do to you. Like spoiling you like the perfect slut you are for me.”

“You’re so…”

“I know…” He grins and moves his hands to your ass. “Now, where can Daddy sleep? He wants to make breakfast for his little shit in the morning.”

“You can stay in my bedroom,” you lick your lips. “But only if you stop calling my son little shit.”

“We can rename him and call him Lloyd Jr. from now on,” Lloyd chuckles at your pissed expression. “You know, that’s actually a great idea.”

“His name is Y/S/N!”

“Debatable…”

Shit, you are in trouble. No – in deep shit. Lloyd easily made you melt in his arms when he told you he wanted to raise your son with you.

Now your boss has you bend over your dining table, ready to claim your cunt with his cock too.

“Hmm…dessert was nice,” he purrs in your ear, wet mustache tickling your ear shell. “I never ate a sweeter cupcake, Y/N. Now you’ll get the best dick of your life. This is the last dick you’ll ever get, sunshine.”

“Nghh…” You try to give him a snarky comment, but he stuffed your soaked panties into your mouth when he pushed you onto the table to eat your pussy like a man starving.

“Do you feel this,” he holds you down with one hand while he teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. “What would your husband say if he found us here, fucking like rabbits?”

You don’t have an answer for him.

“He’d love watching me destroy this snatch,” Lloyd slams home with one hard thrust. He moans loudly and shudders feeling your walls open up to him. “Fuck, that cunt was worth the wait—” He groans into your neck.

You whine at your own weakness.

He’s an infuriating man, doing nice things for you and your son and you let him not only crawl between your legs to eat your cunt, no – you let him mount you like an animal at your home too. “That snatch is gripping me so tight that it almost hurts.”

Lloyd nuzzles his face in your neck, and purrs. “But it hurts so damn good, doesn’t it?” You whine again, smothered by his body pressed against yours, and your own neediness.

He slowly rocks his hips, forcing you to feel every drag of his thick cock against your walls. Your legs quiver. Lloyd is not your passionless husband, nor the vanilla guys you fucked before him.

The man rocking into you came to conquer and he won’t do it halfhearted. “I can feel your pretty pussy cling to my cock. She’s as desperate for me as you are. But don’t worry. I’m going to take good care of her.”

Lloyd is having a blast destroying all of your defenses. He dismantled your defense and now, you lie on your table in your dining room and get railed by the man with the mustache.

“Nggh,” you groan against the makeshift gag. Lloyd picked up the pace and you end up bumping your hip against the table.

“Fuck, yes,” he curses loudly. “Never took you for someone wanting me to fuck you on your dining table.” He stills his hips to nip at your neck. “Do you want me to cum inside of you, and give you another little bundle of joy?”

You shake your head, but your cunt flutters around his thick length. If he wants to fulfill his dirty fantasies about breeding you, so be it.

You push back on him, taking Lloyd by surprise.

He eagerly grips your hips to move his hips in sync with you. Flesh claps against flesh, and he groans loudly as you don’t just take it.

“Fuck,” he curses and grunts while you start to go faster. “Shit, yes…”

A little too fast for his liking you clench around his twitching cock. He groans and stills his hips. Lloyd can’t move or think. This is the most intense orgasm he felt in a long time, or like ever.

“Fuck, take every droplet, sunshine.” You close your eyes and shudder feeling his seed coat your walls. “I hope I put a little Lloyd in you.”

“Goodnight, bud,” Lloyd covers your son with the blanket. “You need to sleep now, okay. Your mommy is very tired.” He grins when you enter the room to take care of your son. “Shhh…I wore her out. She’s so out of it, that I need to take care of you.”

“Daddy?” Your son grabs Lloyd’s hand, holding it tightly.

“Don’t worry, little shit,” Lloyd looks down at your son, a smug grin on his lips. “I’ll be there in the morning to make you breakfast. And in nine months, you are going to have a brother or sister.”

“Lloyd, not again,” you swat his hands away when he tries to spoon you. “I’m tired and sore.”

“Relax, I’m satisfied for tonight. Three rounds are enough for our first time,” he plays the big spoon and wraps his arms tightly around your body. “Little Lloyd is asleep, and my cock too.”

You roll your eyes. “You didn’t keep your promise. I’ll still lose the house because my bank is a bitch.”

“Oh, about that,” he nuzzles his face in your neck. “You and little Lloyd will move in with me. I have already arranged everything. Tomorrow the moving team will come around and grab all of your shit.”

“What? No. Lloyd,” you sigh deeply. “Y/S/N needs a nursery and a garden. We can’t just move out of our home only because you are crazy.”

“I’m not crazy cupcake,” he nips at your earlobe. “I claimed you and little shit as mine. This pretty mommy is all mine now, and your son will wear my name too. He’s going to have a better father than I ever had. Soon he will forget about his sperm donator and call only me his dad.”

“If you hurt my son, and don’t keep your promises, I’ll castrate you…”

Part 3

Tags in reblog.

#lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #smut #lloyd hansen x you #plussized reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #TOL - I’m your daddy now (2) (Lloyd Hansen)

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void-wolfie · 11 months

Text

Inhale

summary: Jenna helps you through an asthma attack. [request]

pairing: Jenna Ortega x gn!Reader

words: 1.5k

tw: asthma attack (is that something that needs a warning?), mentions of smoking, my crappy writing

a/n: hope this lives up to your expectations anon, (totally not inspired by that video of Jenna smoking)

*I don't have asthma myself so this is based on the little research I did, if it's not accurate I apologize

"Rough day at work?" You asked, watching as Jenna hurriedly put her cigarette out. Ignoring how you could already feel your lungs tightening with the smoke in the air.

"Jesus, y/n, you scared me."

You'd just gotten home, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed and fall asleep between the warm sheets. But you couldn't help but spot Jenna on the balcony, watching the bustling city below.

"Those things will kill ya, you know," You said, referring to the cigarette still burning in the ashtray.

"They'll kill you long before they kill me," She sighed, running her fingers through her hair, "You know you shouldn't be out here when I smoke."

"Yeah, yeah..." you scuffed your shoe along the ground, avoiding eye contact with the actress.

You hated being babied over your asthma, you hated Percy for getting her addicted to those stupid cigarettes, but most of all, you hated how the past week you've been so busy you've barely been able to see your girlfriend.

"Come on, let's go inside," She nodded her head to the door, but you made no indication of moving.

"I want to stay out here a little longer with you." You gave her those big puppy dog eyes, the ones you knew she couldn't deny. "It's nice out and I miss you."

"I don't want to trigger your asthma though,"

"Just for a little while, please?"

Part of you knew it was a bad idea, sitting in the chilly air where she'd been smoking only moments ago. But you didn't want to go in just yet. It was nice out, the cool breeze felt good against your skin, even though it pierced through your lungs. It was fairly quiet for once, despite the city below and the soft hum of Jenna's music in the background.

She sighed and her shoulders dropped. How could she ever say no to those adorable eyes? "Fine, but the minute you start coughing we're going inside,"

"Deal."

You weren't going to tell her how you'd been battling your asthma all day, nor how the second you stepped outside you could feel your chest tighten, your breathing becoming just a tad more labored. All that would do is make her worry more, and she worries about you enough already.

You leaned against the railing next to Jenna, taking in the scenery below. She took the blanket that'd been wrapped around her shoulders and draped it around the both of you, cuddling into your side.

"How was work?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"Annoying." You scoffed, "My producer was in a bad mood all day, it was like trying to work with an overgrown toddler."

"And the new album?" She pushed herself into your side, wrapping herself around you. You could make out the smell of smoke on her and the blanket, which your lungs were not happy about.

"It's coming along, still has a long way to go," a small cough wracked your body and you could make out the worried look on her face from the corner of your eye.

You went to take a deep breath, to steady yourself, only it was like your lungs couldn't inflate. You'd had asthma attacks before, but this one felt different, worse. It was like breathing through a paper straw with an elephant sitting on your chest.

"y/n?"

You could barely hear her call out to you through the coughing and the dull ringing in your ears.

No, no, no... Not now...

"I- I can't-"

Jenna's whole attention was on you now. You were putting almost all your weight on the railing in front of you, not having the strength to hold yourself up at the moment. You started wheezing in-between coughing, the look on your face told her all she needed to know.

"Shit." She ran inside, racing to the bathroom to grab your spare inhaler.

When she got back, you were sitting on the floor, your back against the railing.

You weren't coughing much anymore, mostly wheezing, possibly on the verge of hyperventilating. You couldn't think straight, the lack of air and the onset of panic muddling your thoughts. All you could focus on was the rapid rise and fall of your chest, how your lungs didn't feel like they were inflating at all, or if they were even working. It was hell.

Jenna was doing her best to stay calm. Panicking right now would only make things worse for you, but she was worried. She hadn't seen you have an attack this bad in a while.

She shook the inhaler before popping the cap off. She kneeled in front of you and slid the inhaler into your hand, guiding it toward your face.

It took you a moment to figure out what was happening. There was an inhaler in your hand, inches from your face, and Jenna was kneeling in front of you looking terrified.

You did your best to take a deep breath, it was almost painful, like trying to break through your ribcage from the inside out. You pushed the inhaler to your mouth and pushed down on the top. There was a rush of cool air as you inhaled. Your lungs were burning, aching for any sort of air they could get, your chest rising and falling faster as they started bringing in more air.

It took another puff from the inhaler before you finally started to settle. Your breathing finally slowed to a semi-normal pace.

"Talk to me, love," Jenna was hovering in front of you, concern etched into her features.

"Inside, please," You managed to get out between heavy breaths.

Jenna helped you up. Slinging one of your arms around her shoulders as she helped you inside and onto the couch.

Your chest still ached from all the coughing, and your throat felt like it was on fire. You could already feel the medicine kicking in, your chest wasn't nearly as tight, and your hands were starting to shake.

"How can I help?" Jenna asked, cupping your face in her hands. You'd barely noticed the tear tracks streaming down your face, the way your vision blurred from unshed tears. But it didn't escape Jenna's attention. She wiped away the tears with her thumbs, making sure to be as gentle as possible.

"Water?"

"Of course," She had to stop herself from sprinting to the kitchen, settling instead on a fast-paced walk so she wouldn't look like a madman running off.

You gave her a weak smile, gratefully taking the water from her. It felt like magic against the back of your throat, like rain in the middle of a drought.

"Anything else?" she asked, a little less worried now that your breathing had mostly returned to normal.

"Cuddles?" You asked, making grabby hands toward your girlfriend, wanting nothing more than to forget about your shitty day and fall asleep.

She giggled, grabbing your hands and intertwining your fingers with her own, placing a gentle kiss on the back of one of your palms.

"Ok, but let me shower first." You pouted, not liking the idea of having to separate from Jenna, "I'll only be a few minutes. I just want to get the smell of smoke off me."

"Fineeee"

Normally, Jenna liked to take scalding hot showers, bask in the warm water and let the day's worries melt away. But not tonight. She took a shower as quickly as she could, not wanting to leave your side for very long, not when it wouldn't take much for you to have another episode.

When Jenna got out of the shower, she found you still in the living room, sprawled out across the couch asleep. You still had your inhaler clutched in one hand, holding it close to your chest as if you were scared to have another attack in the middle of the night.

She hated seeing you like this, and she hated not being able to help you even more. One of her greatest fears was you not being able to get to your inhaler in time, essentially dying from suffocation. The idea scared her half to death and put an ache in her heart she never wanted to feel again.

She didn't want to move you, you looked too peaceful on the couch, but she didn’t want to leave you alone either. So she settled on the idea of sleeping on the couch with you instead.

She went into your bedroom, yanking one of the blankets off the bed, and carrying it into the living room. She gently took the inhaler from your hand, making sure to set it within arm's reach on the coffee table.

You woke up to the feeling of her hands in yours. A feeling you adored, "Cuddles now?" You asked, trying to fight off the urge to fall back asleep.

"Sure," She laid down with you, letting you get comfortable between her legs as you laid your head on her chest. She covered the both of you with the blanket, making sure you were cozy.

"Love you," You mumbled, barely awake as you let the sound of her heartbeat lull you to sleep.

"I love you too," She whispered, gently brushing a few strands of hair from your eyes.

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x gn!reader #void-wolfie

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luveline · 9 months

Note

Thinking about Eddie going out to get dinner while reader is over!! Reader sees a big bug and doesn’t want to deal with it/tries to trap it so Eddie can deal with it, but Roan legit just picks it up and let’s it go easy while reader is like “roan my hero T_T!!!” Reader def brings over presents for Roan the next visit because of that LOL.

thank u for ur request lovely! eddie and roan —your boyfriend's trailer attracts creepy crawlies, but luckily his young daughter knows how to catch them. 1.3k

The thing about Eddie's trailer is that, while he's more than made it a home, it is full of bugs. Maybe because the trailer park is a huge field of grass, maybe because of the forest surrounding, you're guaranteed to find a bug or two every time you visit.

Sometimes you get lucky with small moths to be herded back out of the kitchen door. Occasionally, spindly spiders on lines of sink drop down into the room and are swiftly captured by Eddie in an open palm. You have never, ever faced this particular brand of misfortune before.

"What is that?" you squeal, pulling Roan hard against your chest.

She's small, and before your violent flinch, she'd been quite comfortable sitting atop your thigh, her back to your chest. "Woah!" she says, her voice very high.

"Holy crap," you say, again and again as you shuffle down the couch and off of the side of it.

As soon as you can stand without fearing for your life, you pull Roan to your chest, her short legs dangling from either side of your thigh. Letting your new boyfriend's daughter die via a mysterious bug bite would be extremely uncool. You quite like her, and her dad's fine (you feel this yawning pit at the very bottom of your stomach whenever you think about how much you want this to work, how much you already love them).

"Princess, what is that?" you ask, though as soon as you've finished asking, you realise it's nothing nefarious after all.

She tips herself back in your arms, assessing the bug upside down. "Uh. That's a mildi-pede."

The bug is long and brown, segments of its body curved and multi-legged. It moves with tiny footsteps but makes good progress, crawling across the wooden slates toward the rug.

Eddie is the bug catcher. You're the celebrator —he grabs a cup and a piece of paper to sequester whichever insect has decided it must harass you that night, and you get to thank him for being brave with kisses that are somehow shy and congratulatory at once. You're allowed to kiss him, now, whenever you like, but each one makes your lips tingle.

"You get a lot of those?" you ask.

"You've never seened one?" Roan asks.

You live in Indiana, so of course you've seen a millipede. But, you know, normal millipedes, not mutant ones the length of your forearm.

"I feel like I haven't," you confess, your pulse thudding against your chest.

"Where did it go?" Roan asks, wriggling to be put down on her own two feet. She sounds far more curious than afraid.

You put her down on the rug and peer over Roan's play picnic table cautiously. You're ninety nine percent sure that millipedes can't hurt people, but you're scared shitless anyhow.

"Your dad will be back with Chinese food, soon," you say, stepping backwards as Roan creeps forward. It's adorable. You'd coo if your nerves weren't frazzled. "Maybe we could go wait at the kitchen table."

You'd rather wait for him to come home than deal with it yourself. The thought of somehow touching it makes your skin crawl.

"She's a super duper long one," Roan calls, dropping to her knees.

"Roan?" you call back hesitantly. "Uh, don't do whatever it is you're doing. Come on, I'll make you a fun fruity drink again like last week while we wait for your daddy?"

You bite the tip of your tongue so hard you're sure you've sheared the tip clean off when Roan turns back to you, the wretched (innocent) creature racing its legs uselessly as she holds it up in the light.

You wrap your arms around your own chest. "Holy crap, babe! Put it down!"

"Daddy says the bugs aren't scary, they just wanted to have somewhere warm to sleep!"

"Your daddy is very smart," you concede, strained, easing away as Roan comes closer. The creepy crawly is a contrast to her silky lilac pyjamas and ruffled socks, its armoured carapace shining as it metronomes with each step she takes. "But I'm not as brave as you both."

"If you open the door, I can put her outside," Roan says, as though you're the child and she's the adult, her tone softened by that seemingly endless patience Eddie possesses.

You keep your doubt (your disbelief? your awe?) to yourself and cross the short distance to the front door to open it as she commanded. Roan rushes out onto the small porch and down the steps, crouching in the grass to place the millipede down with the utmost care. It's dark out, and she's unafraid, the path lit only by orange light slipping from inside the trailer and the weak headlights of an oncoming car.

You descend the steps and join her.

"Here you go, missy mildi-pede, back to the grass," she murmurs. The millipede's back legs cling to her hand. Roan runs out of sweetness and shakes her free.

You breathe in the cool night air for a moment, watching with Roan as the millipede crawls out of sight between tall blades of bluegrass.

"You're very brave," you say. You feel a little sheepish to have been rescued by her.

"Daddy says that all the time," she agrees proudly.

You offer her your hand and stand tall together as the headlights become apparent. Your car (with Eddie driving, to avoid a game of driveway leap frog) pulls into the space behind his own. He waves when he sees you both behind the windshield, getting out of the car with the takeout bag looped around his wrist.

"Hi girls," he says, closing the door with his hip. "What're you doing, sending out a search party? I wasn't gone that long."

"I had to– I had to bring a mildi-pede outside because Y/N was scared," Roan says, her sentence punctuated with a roaring giggle as Eddie swoops her up into his arms, takeout bag and all.

"Oh yeah?" he asks, smothering her answer with kisses.

You bracelet your wrist in the other hand sheepishly.

Eddie doesn't look up. You assume you've gotten away with not knowing what to say until he pops Roan on his hip, reaching for you. More shameful than your inability to deal with a bug by yourself is how urgently you step into his side. He wraps an arm around your shoulder, the takeout bag hot against your back, his lips curled into a fond smile as he murmurs, "D'you finally see the spider in the bathroom?"

You tilt your face into his cheek kisses. "No?" you ask.

"I'm calling him Gregory," Roan says.

"He's not that big," Eddie promises, leaning back to stroke your face.

"She saved me from the world's grossest millipede."

"Were you kind?" Eddie asks her.

Roan puts a little hand over her heart. "Duh, daddy."

"She's wicked with them, isn't she? She grabs them like they're nothing," he says to you, his hand rubbing down your arm before he passes you the take out bag. Roan must weigh heavy after a long day; he needs both arms to keep her up. They grin at each other with twin mouths. "She's fearless. Thanks for saving Y/N, babe."

"I like Y/N," Roan says earnestly.

You like Roan too —your saviour. You bring her a big Dotty Dolly set the next time you're lucky enough to be invited over, an entomologist Dolly with khaki cargo shorts and a butterfly net. Roan loves it, and Eddie's evidently appreciative, sitting you half on top of his lap as you watch her tear it open with his arms crossed lovingly over your tummy.

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anemoelliacia · 6 months

Text

the five times alhaitham knew he loved you

warnings: female reader, basically just tooth rotting fluff :)

▶ I recommend listening to the song I hear a Symphony by Cody Fry while reading this chapter. <3

The first instance was when he was talking to you about something Akademiya related, and you were listening intently. Truthfully, you didn’t quite understand or grasp what he was talking about. Though, you tried not to let on to the fact that you didn’t understand. You did the best you could to entertain the topic he was talking about. The next evening, when he stopped by your home to see you after work, he found you asleep at your desk clearly researching something. He felt the need to satiate his own curiosity, so he looked at the books and papers on your desk. Turns out, you were studying the very topic he was telling you about yesterday. He is a stoic man, however he couldn't help but softly smile down at your sleeping figure as he quickly deduces the fact you must have started studying it for him, to be able to understand and properly discuss it with him. It tugs at his heart, emotions bursting forth he hasn’t really had the time to feel before. He thinks, “hm, do I love her? I think I do.”

Secondly, the time he saw you jokingly bickering with Kaveh over a card game during dinner. You won and Kaveh was being a sore loser, all Alhaitham could do is sit back and watch the two of you interact, chuckling each time you jokingly shut down Kaveh’s antics and him whining over losing. He watches you and can’t help but want more little moments like this with you around, he thinks, “yeah… I love her.”

Thirdly, whenever you stay at his house, you make it a point to try to wake up earlier than him and have coffee ready for him. It was a habit of yours he can’t even pinpoint when it happened. Did you start doing it the first time you stayed the night? He can’t recall. But never fail, everytime you stay the night, you always wake him up with a gentle kiss on the head and a piping hot cup of coffee just the way he likes it, two sugar cubes and no milk. The longer this habit of yours goes on, he can’t help but think, “I love her,” each time you do it.

Fourthly, when you always plan dates to be at home, or in out of the way places because you know how much he doesn't like needless social interaction. Alhaitham is a rather observant person, he puts the pieces together quickly why he thinks you opt to do this. One date night, when you cooked him dinner at his own house and served it up elegantly at his dining table, he brought it up to you. He asks you, "why do we always have dates at home when I know you like to go out?" and you say, "for you. I don't mind doing what's best for you." and it's the truth. He already is a very busy person, but not just that, he prefers quiet situations– Alhaitham doesn't like to deal with crowds of people, excessive noise, or pointless conversations with anyone but you. So, if date nights at home are what's best, you're very happy to accommodate that. Your response was quick, yet thoughtful. A smile momentarily graces his face, and he thinks, "I love her…"

The fifth and final instance was just a quiet intimate moment. He was sitting in bed with his back against the headboard reading an abstruse book about philosophy, and you were laying with your back flush against his chest reading along silently. Neither of you felt the need to talk, you just wanted to be in each other's company. Alhaitham mindlessly plays with your hair in between flipping the pages of his book, placing a kiss on your head every now and then. It may seem like an insignificant moment to anyone else, but to him, in this moment he realizes he wants you forever. So, "I love you," he finally says, knowing it to be true as you two sit together and enjoy the quiet company of each other.

▶ if you liked this, check out the other parts linked in my masterlist :) every genshin man i write for is getting their own part.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact drabble #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fluff #genshin impact fluff

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happy74827 · 5 months

Note

hey are requests open…. If so can I have Dom Matthew Patel x Sub female reader (lime)

Study Buddy

[Matthew Patel x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Things get a little heated after Matthew admits his feelings to you.

WC: 1831

Category: Spice/Lime, Fluff

Matthew as a Dom? Lmfao that’s a new one (personally he gives me total Sub vibes 🤷‍♀️), but a request is a request. Hopefully I wrote it to where you like it :)

『••✎••』

Matthew Patel. A nerd with an affinity for magic. The kind of guy you would see at your local comic book store or performing “One Day More” from Les Mis in an empty movie theatre.

He was also your best friend's ex-boyfriend. He was also currently on top of you.

The two of you were in your dorm room, and you had been studying. It was exam week at college, and you were cramming for your finals when you heard the familiar sound of someone opening your door. You were on the ground, papers, and books splayed out around you. Matthew stood, hands in his pockets.

His mouth hung open slightly as he took a deep breath.

"You're so..." He paused. "I mean, you look so..." He trailed off. You cocked an eyebrow.

"Matty… are you musical theatre-ing me right now? Because if so, I really need to study-"

"No! No, just listen." He said, sitting next to you. You could tell he was nervous, fiddling with his sleeves. "You're beautiful, you're smart, and you're my friend.”

“Uh… huh? Thanks, I guess, but where are you going with this exactly-?" You asked, trying to return to your work. He cut you off, standing.

"Ramona and I never worked out, and that's because she didn't like me. I get it, but you... You actually care about me and... and... I really… I like you a lot and... And... Can you not do that?!"

You stopped writing, looking up at him. You were surprised to see his face was red and that he was sweating slightly.

"Can I not what?"

"You're doing it! The thing! With your eyebrows! It's distracting me!"

"Matthew, calm down." You said, setting down your pencil and standing up. He was about parallel with you, height-wise. Not bad, considering he was a year older.

"No! This is a big deal! This is serious! I want... I want to ask you something."

You looked him in the eyes, confused.

"What is it, Matty?" You asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked away.

"Will you... Go out with me?"

There was a long pause as you processed what had just happened.

"Matthew..." You said, and he visibly cringed.

"I knew it; I knew I was being too forward. I just-"

You cut him off with a hug, burying your face in his chest.

"You're really sweaty; did you know that?" You mumbled, and you felt him laugh. He returned your hug, pulling you in. “And to be honest, you do actually look like a major pirate in this lighting."

"Uh,” His face fell. "Thanks?"

"But, I happen to have a type, you see. Sweaty pirates with magic powers who quote musicals. And I'm pretty sure that describes you perfectly." You said, smiling as you felt his heartbeat pick up. He let out a soft sigh, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"That's... That's a relief."

The two of you stayed there for a moment before he cleared his throat and gently placed a hand on your cheek, making you look at him.

"So, uh, I haven’t done this in a while.”

“You mean since that week in seventh grade with Ramona?” You asked.

His face turned red. “Ramona told you that?! Oh man, did she tell you about Pilgrim, too, or... Okay, we don’t have to talk about this; let's just..."

He leaned down, and you felt his lips press against yours. It was gentle and sweet, and he pulled away, leaving you wanting more.

"You're such a dork, Matty."

"… A good dork, right?"

"Yeah, a good dork." You smiled, kissing his nose. He chuckled, leaning down to kiss you again. For not having kissed someone in a long time, he was pretty good.

His hands slid down to rest on your hips, and your arms draped over his shoulders. Your hands tangled in his hair as his tongue gently pressed against your bottom lip, requesting entry.

You opened your mouth, letting him deepen the kiss. You felt your body being pressed against the wall behind you, and you let out a soft gasp. He took this opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, gently rubbing it against yours.

The kiss was messy, tongues and teeth clashing. It wasn’t the most elegant, but it was passionate and full of emotion.

He pulled away, looking down at you. His lips were red and swollen, his hair was messed up, and his face was flushed. You assumed you looked similar.

"… uhm, I think I accidentally set your textbook on fire."

You looked over to where you had been sitting and saw a large pile of ashes where your textbook had been.

"Aw, shit! Matthew, how am I supposed to take finals now?"

"Uhh... I’ll buy you another one. I'm sorry."

You gave him a look, and he looked down in shame. He looked like a sad puppy, and you sighed.

"Don't worry about it. I can just use my computer. And... Well, I wouldn't mind some help studying."

His eyes lit up, and he grinned, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips.

"Yeah, I can help. Anything for you, babe."

"Okay, ew, don't call me babe."

"Right, sorry. Honey, Sweetie, Darling, Cutie-"

"Matthew."

"Right. Sorry. Anyway, what was it that you were studying for again?"

You laughed, and the two of you got to work, studying and laughing together. Except, you didn’t study because you were too busy making out. But, that was probably the best studying of all.

The floor became your bed, and it was covered in papers. But you didn’t mind. Because the boy who had previously been known as a nerd with mystic abilities and questionable taste in music was now on top of you, kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Matthew didn’t strike you as the type of guy to take charge. In fact, you would have been surprised if he wasn't a virgin. But as he whispered to you, his hands running along your sides, his lips pressing against yours, his body pressed against yours... You could tell he wanted this just as much as you did.

It didn’t take long before you matched his energy, becoming a sweaty, blushing, panting mess. Your hands were under his shirt, running along his torso. His skin was hot, and you were sure your hands were sweaty. But he didn’t seem to mind.

In fact, he seemed to enjoy it if the groan that came from his mouth when your hand brushed across a particularly sensitive area was anything to go by.

Your name rolled off his tongue, and your heart raced as he whispered into your ear again.

"Do that again, please..."

And who were you to refuse such a polite request?

You sat up, and he adjusted his position so that he was kneeling between your legs, your arms around his neck, and your forehead pressed against his.

His coat was discarded, and the two of you were a blushing mess. His breathing was heavy, and so was yours. Your clothes had become disheveled, and your hair was messy.

But that didn’t matter because the way he was looking at you made you feel more beautiful than you ever had before.

"Y-you're amazing." He muttered, his hand on your hip. "I've liked you for so long. And now, we're here. I never thought I would be this close to you, ever. You're amazing."

You blushed, looking down.

"Matthew, you're embarrassing me."

"Sorry, I just... I need to say it: you're... you're so gorgeous."

You blushed harder, burying your face in his neck and taking a deep breath. He smelled like pine and smoke, and his hair tickled your face.

You felt him chuckle, a deep rumble in his chest. His fingers gently stroked your sides, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He then moved his head so his lips were against your ear.

"You wanna hear a secret?"

"Yes, please."

"My favorite musical is The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Not the Disney movie, but the actual play."

You burst out laughing, looking up at him. He smiled, looking proud of himself.

"Oh, god, Matthew, why?"

"What? I like the songs! I sang it back in high school. Granted, I sang it behind the curtains because I was only picked for the ensemble, but I still like it!"

You couldn’t stop the laughter coming from your mouth, and he began to laugh as well. His laugh was more of confusion than anything else, but it was adorable nonetheless.

"God, you're such a nerd."

"Oh, like you aren't a nerd as well! What was it that you were listening to on your laptop the other day? 'Hamilton' or something?"

"Okay, first of all, Hamilton is amazing, and I will not let anyone, not even you, say otherwise."

"Fair enough. But, can we continue now?"

"I mean, you could just sing a song from the Hunchback of Notre Dame for me."

He laughed, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

"Maybe later." He said, and his lips were back on yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. His hands found their way under your shirt, gently running along your sides. He was gentle and sweet and very eager. His touches were light and loving, and it didn't take long for him to become more confident.

Soon, the kisses became rougher and sloppier, his touches more firm. His hips bucked into yours, and you groaned, breaking the kiss. He grinned, doing it again. You let out a shaky breath, gripping his hair.

"Matty..."

"Yeah?"

"Those demon… girls? , the uh... the ones that follow you around. Can they see us? I really don't want them watching."

His head perks up, watching you.

"Uh, not if I don't want them to. They usually stay in my shadow so they can't see. Besides, I've told them that I'm done with the whole vengeance thing. They're chill."

"Oh, okay.”

He kissed your cheek, and his lips were back on yours in a second, kissing you hungrily. His hands roamed your body, and your hands tangled in his hair, pulling slightly.

Yeah, you didn’t study that night. The excitement was too much. Instead, the two of you stayed in each other’s arms for hours, the smell of burning paper surrounding the room.

Excluding the fact that Matthew had burned your textbook and possibly owed you an entire binder full of notes, you had no complaints.

Matthew Patel might be a nerd, a loser, and a total weirdo to some. But to you, he was the sweetest, most loving, and the most wholesome person you had ever met.

And, as he pressed a kiss to your temple and muttered an "I love you," you couldn't help but smile and think that maybe, just maybe, there was some truth to the "nerds can get chicks" stereotype.

234 notes · View notes

manicpixiedreamcurl · 9 months

Text

The More You Give ❧ (Part VII)

Pairing | Eddie Munson x shy!reader

Warnings | 18+ only, do not interact if you are underage. Heavy petting, P in V sex, soft dom!Eddie. Discussion of uncomfortable sexual experiences. Inordinate amount of praise kink, good girl's, and vulnerability on both sides.

Word count | ~10,000

Taglist

Previous Chapter

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Most days, walking into the cafeteria comes with a cool sense of dread. A heaviness in your chest, mind working overtime to prepare yourself for an hour not quite talking with your not quite friends. You’re never sure what you prefer; the white hot shame that comes with laughter at your expense, or the simmering ache from being ignored entirely.

But there’s a levity to your mood today. You’re proud, or maybe more accurately relieved, at the circled red letter on the top right of your Chemistry test.

You spot May at the usual table as you file in, catching her excited wave over the head of some of the cheer girls. The others offer a cursory glance before returning to their conversation, but May’s expression is expectant. “So? How’d you do?”

You grin. “A minus.”

“I knew it!” She squeals, removing her bag from the chair next to her to make space for you. “You always make a big deal out of tests, and then breeze through!”

She’s half right.

Something about the weight of potential failure, some unknown consequence to doing poorly, always has you worrying about tests days prior, heart pounding in the moments before you flip the paper. Then you second guess yourself all the way through, scribbling over wrong answers before writing the same thing down again.

But you certainly don’t breeze through. The weight of this test on your mind had you bursting into tears in Eddie’s van last week. What was supposed to be a movie theatre date turned into an impromptu study session at the library. Eddie sat opposite you while you read over your notes, writing up his campaign ideas and flicking through a book he’d found in the fantasy section before working begrudgingly on an essay about JFK he was supposed to have handed in the week before. He switched to the seat next to you when you failed to hide a sniffle, let you tuck yourself under his arm and press your face to his shoulder.

“C’mon,” he said eventually, coaxing you out from the damp spot on the collar of his shirt. “Talk me through what you don’t get, okay? I bet the answer’s up here.” He pressed a finger to your forehead, narrowing his eyes like he could pinpoint the spot in your brain the information was hiding. “We just gotta knock it loose somehow.”

He must, truly, have been bored to death as you went through the problem, starting over again and again each time you explained yourself into a corner. But he listened anyway, prompted you to keep going until you came to an answer that satisfied you, a conclusion that made sense, and then he listened to the next problem.

You apologised at the end of the night. For all the hysterics, for dragging him along to a joyless evening. He’d swiped the thought away with a casual wave of his hand. “You couldn’t be my smart girl if you didn’t have to study sometimes.”

Just thinking about it now, your eyes flicker from May’s hand on the back of the empty chair beside her to the place Eddie sits, far on the other side of the room.

It’s an invisible line you haven’t crossed, spending any time with him at lunch. Eddie would never let you question whether he wanted you to sit with him, never let you worry about seeming clingy. He’d made it clear you were always welcome. What stopped you was that tug at your heart, that feeling that you’d be taking another step away, putting more distance between you and your friends. Or May, at least. You can’t remember the last time Heather sat with you more than once a week.

And you promised, sincerely, that you would try a bit harder with the cheer girls. Apart from that one tipsy conversation with Tracy at a party, you’re not sure you’ve quite fulfilled that.

But you want so badly to tell him. Shamefully, it was your first thought when you turned your paper over today. Along with the usual relief came excitement, knowing Eddie would be pleased for you and make it clear, call you his smart girl till your face burns hot.

“I’m just-” You start, tucking your bag up on your shoulder, glancing back to May. “I’m just gonna show Eddie quickly.”

There’s a pause. Her pleased expression, the gentle curve of her wax pink lips, doesn’t falter. Instead, it seems to calcify on her face. “Oh. You’re gonna sit over there?”

“Just for a while,” you reason. “Just to show him my grade. Okay?”

She makes a high mm hmm noise, half agreeing, half unsure, but you decide to take it at face value, making a beeline for Eddie’s table.

As usual, he sits at the head, the frizz of his hair lit up in the natural light from the window behind him. His expression is a touch bored, eyes blinking slowly, chin resting on his palm as a boy at the other end of the table - young, with tight brown curls tucked under a yellow cap - talks a mile a minute. You catch the words radio and roof as you approach, but your own mind goes blank when you reach them.

You’d feel only excitement, if it was just Eddie who noticed your presence. For his part, his whole posture changes; from slumped over the table to sitting straight up, his pouty lips turning to an excited smile in your direction as his hand drops away from his chin. But on top of that, six additional faces turn to watch you walk up the side of the table. Maybe you could handle three, used to some attention from Jeff, Gareth and Matthew at this point, comfortable in their acceptance of your silly little fidgets and occasional long silences.

But the other three, all freshmen, staring at you like you grew another head on the way over, have you shuffling in place, playing with the strap of your bag. You vaguely know Mike from watching him run out the door on the occasions you’ve babysat Holly, though his hair is a good couple inches longer than the last time you spent an evening at the Wheeler’s. The others, Lucas and Dustin, you know both from Eddie’s descriptions and his complaints.

“Hi,” you say, voice quieter than you’d like as you wave at the group.

“To what do we owe this pleasure, Princess?”

Your mouth opens, and your throat closes. Your face feels suddenly warm under the eyes of his whole table. In an instant, you regret coming over here. What must you look like? What will they think of you, when they realise you came over here to brag about a simple test result?

Eddie hums a questioning sound, bringing your focus back to him. He’s looking at you the way he does when you both know you’re going to have to be the one to speak first. There’s anticipation there, but the little curve of his lips is all kind patience.

You swallow, glance down the table again. You make eye contact with Lucas, give him an awkward smile at his friendly wave. Even at that, you know the words won’t come. Sighing quietly, you unzip your bag and search through your books for the test, drawing out the paper and fiddling with the corner for a second. How do you tell him, all of them, that you really aren’t bragging? That more than anything you just want to thank him?

Eddie’s eyebrows raise as he looks between you and the paper. When he holds his hand out, and you find yourself passing it to him instinctively, toes curling in your shoes.

“An A!?” He screeches immediately, thoroughly dispelling any hope you might have had that he’d keep it to himself. Though your face burns, you fight the urge to glance around and offer an apologetic smile to his group, to the people that turned at the sound of his yell, because this is Eddie. Any embarrassment you might feel pales in comparison to hearing the pride in his voice, to see it on his face. What do judgmental looks and cruel whispers from strangers mean to you when they’re caused by Eddie, so excited and pleased for you that he’ll yell it publicly?

You tuck the top of your foot to the back of your ankle, playing with your skirt, correcting him shyly. “An A minus.”

Eddie scoffs. “An A’s and A, sweetheart. I’d know, I’ve missed enough of them.”

Knowing now that at least Eddie himself has taken it the right way, you let yourself indulge. “I was two marks off a real A.”

Eddie’s hand slams down on the table with a bang, making you and everyone in the surrounding area jump as he rises, kicking his chair back with a screech. You watch, left in some strange place between proud and mortified as he practically floats over to the neighbouring table, flicking the paper at a group of juniors dressed exclusively in neon.

“You see that? My girlfriend got a fucking A in Mr Brown’s AP Chemistry class!” He moves the paper around, displaying it for each of them. “That shit’s like fucking gold dust- hey!” He turns to shake it at a passing boy with a calculator in his breast pocket. “You’re in that class, right? How’d you do in this test, huh?”

“If you must know, Munson, I got an A plus.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Okay, man. Shit. Kinda showing off a little-” He turns to you, eyes wide and head tilted as if to say get a load of this guy, but you’re shaking your head, desperately biting back a smile.

“Eddie!”

“Ah, she calls to me.” He drifts over to you then, frizzed hair flying out behind him. You giggle a little wildly behind your hands, still shaking your head at him though any disapproval is for show at this point. Everyone who turned to watch Eddie crow seems to have returned to their conversations, this side of the room apparently well used to his outbursts. He stops close enough that he’s all you can see; his dimpled smile, eyes shining at you while he hands you your test back.

“Take my seat, Princess.” He gestures with a wide arm, directing you to the chair he rose from. You make a quick glance over at the cheer table, find Caroline just sitting down now with her tray, and feel an unusual sense of relief. It feels like freedom, to be on this side of the room, and not directly under her gaze.

By the time you’re settled in his seat, Eddie has retrieved a spare chair, carrying it above his head and dropping it down next to you with another outrageous bash. He collapses into it, his arm finding the back of your chair as he leans in to Jeff, sitting on your left. “You’re in that class, too, right man?”

“You know, we’ve been friends three years now, Eddie, and you’ve never once taken an interest in my grades,” Jeff answers, shutting down Eddie’s inquiry before he can really ask. He turns to you. “Bet it was question 18 that got you, huh?”

“Mm, no, that was okay.” You answer. “Eddie and I went over retention factors so much at the library last week. I understand it way better now.”

Six pairs of eyes blink at you, and the relief you were experiencing is fading fast. Instead, you get the recognizable sense that you said something wrong. Your foot starts tapping at pace, fingers finding the edge of the table and running over the edge.

“You were at the library?” Gareth asks Eddie, aghast tone mocking but serious in its surprise.

“I’ve been to the library before,” Eddie bites. “M’there all the time.”

“We’re not talking about monopolising the fantasy section, here,” Matthew says. “You were studying, Eds.”

“I told you,” Eddie replies, widening his legs until you feel the denim of his jeans rough against your bobbing calf. “I’m working hard this year. Trying to get out of this shithole.” He presses his leg more firmly to yours, and you realise it’s a deliberate touch, a silent reminder that he’s there, that he’s not going to leave you alone with whatever’s got you fidgeting.

“You said that last year,” Jeff says.

“And the year before that,” chimes Gareth through a bite of his sandwich.

“Yeah, well, I meant it this time,” he says, leaning back in his seat with a deep sigh. “Jesus, Henderson, you look like you’re gonna explode. Go on. So you’ve built your stereo on the roof.”

“Not a stereo, Eddie- a radio!” Dustin cries through a mouthful of cafeteria lasagne.

Eddie’s face darkens. “Do I look like I give a- Christ.” He closes his eyes tight, shaking his head with genuine frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Whatever, man. Please, please, just finish your story so we can all move on with our lives.”

Undeterred by Eddie’s rough tone, Dustin launches right back into what he’d been speaking about as you approached. Mainly focused on how he convinced his Mom to let him up on the roof in the first place.

You sigh in quiet relief as the attention of the table moves swiftly away from you, leg slowing until it stops shaking altogether. Eddie’s knee bumps yours, and you feel the warmth of him as he leans in to speak softly, just to you.

“My smart girl,” he says, drawing pleased shivers up your spine. “You deserve it, yeah? You worked real hard.”

“I wanted,” you start, grabbing at his sleeve, thumbing the chain that holds the leather together. “I wanted to say thank you for helping me. I know it was kinda boring.”

“Nah, glad I could help.” Eddie’s expression turns a touch sheepish. “I, uh, actually got a C on that History essay? Mrs Kelly said I would have got a B, if I’d handed it in on time, so…”

Your eyes widen, barely able to process the sight of him now. Eddie Munson, who just yelled across the room about your academic achievements, now looking anywhere but at you, scratching his face and shrugging like his own barely matter. You find his hand, squeeze it tight until he shows you his eyes.

“Eddie, that’s brilliant!” You say. He puffs out air like it means nothing to him, shakes his head. “When-”

“You aren’t even listening, Eddie!” Dustin calls from the end of the table. Eddie rolls his eyes, but then he gestures ;azily for Dustin to continue, now with the gift of his attention. It’s enough for anyone to believe he finds the boy annoying at best, but you know from how Eddie talks about them that Dustin’s kind of his favourite. There’s a clear fondness in Eddie’s tone when he rants about Dustin trying to contribute ideas to his campaigns, the begrudging respect he has for how unapologetically himself the boy is. The touch of jealousy that creeps in when he talks about Dustin’s friendship with Steve Harrington, of all people. Badass, my ass, he mumbles each time.

You listen in comfortable silence to the conversation as it continues, occasionally contributing a little yes or no when Jeff asks you leading questions, your fondness for him ever increasing. Only when you watch Eddie retrieve a bag of pretzels from his backpack do you remember your own lunch, too taken in by the awe in Matthew’s voice recounting the first time he heard a Judas Priest song, apparently life changing.

You frown at the realisation that the half empty bag is all Eddie brought for himself, immediately offering your open tupperware and holding it steady under his shaking head until he acquiesces to tearing one half of your sandwich in two, chewing on the quarter in between his contributions to the conversation.

Your ears prick when you move on to tearing the segments from your satsuma, handing a half to Eddie without a word. Amongst the chatter, Mike laughs about Dustin’s current failing grade in Latin, an unusual outcome for him. Dustin sighs like an old man.

“I ask you, how many tenses does one language need?” He groans. “I thought there’d be something we could use for a campaign, The Exorcist style, you know? Instead I’m trying to remember the difference between types of declensions. Or I will, when I fully grasp what declensions are.”

The conversation about Judas Priest you’d found yourself somewhat involved in fades with how much you’re focused on Dustin’s defeated tone. One part of you is screaming that you could help him, that he seems really worried about it and he’s a smart boy so it probably wouldn’t be much work to get him on the right track. Then another part, the one that screeches and wails its distress until your head hurts, asks, what if he says no? What if he laughs? What if they all do?

You open your mouth, wondering if you should just say it across the table. Just offer; just do it. Of course he won’t say no. And if he does, he’s Eddie’s friend so it will be gentle. Still embarrassing though. Your mouth closes again, teeth digging grooves into the gum behind your lips. Just help him. You pull your sleeves down over your hands, playing with the soft ends. You clear your throat, take a breath-

“I’m good at Latin,” you say, immediately cringing at how that sounds. But you’re pleased when Jeff goes on chatting about the album he just bought, letting you contribute to the other conversation across the table freely. Dustin blinks at you owlishly. “I mean, I can help. Tutor you, or something? If you want.”

“Seriously!?” Dustin asks, flashing you a braced grin when you nod. “That would be amazing! Thanks!”

You smile, just sighing out your relief when you feel another nudge at your knee. Eddie’s watching you, eyebrows raised. You shrug shyly, grasping the sleeve of his jacket again to fiddle with the chains. He pulls free, but only to take hold of your hand instead.

You’re basking in the feeling of knowing Eddie’s proud of you, your own pride in yourself, and you know you couldn’t force yourself back across the room today if you tried.

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You realised, walking alone to class, that you hadn’t spoken that much during lunch the entire time you’d been at highschool. Giggling at Lucas’ jokes, asking about their DnD characters, getting increasingly comfortable talking about metal with a group of people who are genuinely excited to hear about your introduction to the genre. By the end it felt almost natural; simple and fun to talk to an entire table of people.

But you’re feeling some of the effects of it now, even quieter than usual in Eddie’s van as Gareth considers whether to paint or sharpie the Corroded Coffin logo Eddie designed onto the front of his bass drum.

From the soft hum you’d given in greeting as you climbed into the van after school, Eddie had offered you his palm, open and relaxed. Now, your forefinger traces the long groove from his wrist to the base of his thumb that forms his life line. You love Eddie’s hands, love how they feel in yours, and on every other part of you they’ve touched.

You swallow, face suddenly hot. It’s been easier, nicer, every time Eddie’s touched you. So much so that you now understand why it’s all some people think about, all that drives them. The way Eddie feels inside you, all the words that spill from his mouth as he moves; how much he wants you, how good you make him feel. You find your mind circling back to it at the strangest times. In class, making dinner, driving home with Eddie’s friends-

You jump a little at the chorus of bye’s from the back, the sound of the doors being thrown open. Eddie’s already watching you curiously when you look back to him, unable to hold eye contact, half convinced he’ll be able to read your thoughts with one good look at you. “You okay, sweet thing?”

“M’just tired.”

“Right,” Eddie says, nodding thoughtfully. “The guys- they can be a little intense.”

Mirth spreads through you at the thought of Eddie ‘jumps on cafeteria tables’ Munson describing anyone as intense. “I like them.”

“You say that now. A week tutoring Dustin and you’ll be changing your name and moving to Idaho. I’ll never see you again, and it’ll be all that little punk’s fault.”

“He’s your favourite.”

Eddie’s tone goes from playful to offended in a second, as to close a screech as his deep voice can get. “He is not- I don’t even have- Even if I did have a favourite, which I don’t, Dustin Henderson would not even come close-” He pauses at the sound of your laugh, narrowing his eyes. “Mmh. I get it. Tired, but not too tired to rile me up.”

You chew the inside of your lip, fighting a smile. Running a finger along his palm again, you reply, “it’s not particularly difficult.” You expect another dramatic yell of offence, or maybe a laugh. Instead, you get something pleased from his expression, dimples on his cheeks. “What?”

“Nothing. I just like it when you tease me.” His fingers close around yours, weaving together. “S’like you’re more comfortable around me, I guess.”

You’re sure he’s right. Every day it’s a little easier. Every time you see him, your mind gets in the way less and less, slowly coming to accept that he’s not waiting for you to say the wrong thing, that he won’t abandon you when you inevitably do.

“You make me feel comfortable, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows raise, waiting for your quick nod. “Does that mean you’re coming back to mine?”

“Actually,” you start, truly needing that comfort now. You know the implications of what you’re going to ask, sure that if somebody other than Eddie heard you, they’d come to conclusions about the kind of girl you are.

The more time you spend with Eddie the less you’re sure that it matters if they would be right or wrong.

You press your knees together, tap your fingers in a wave along Eddie’s knuckles. “Well, my parents aren’t home...”

There’s a second of silence, long enough to have you squirming, finding his dark eyes and then looking away again in a loop.

Eddie leans into you, chin tilted to capture your gaze and keep you there. “You mean to say that the Princess’ tower is unguarded this night?”

Your stomach squeezes at the sound of his voice, serious and soft, like a real adventurer on the verge of committing himself to a great quest. You love this about Eddie, how easily he can slip into characters like this. It’s something he learned from DnD, or maybe Eddie’s so good at the game because he has this ability to play at being somebody different without hesitation, without a hint of the worry you’d feel if you tried it, convinced you’d do it all wrong, sure you’d sound stupid.

“No dragons for me to slay?” He asks, closing one eye like he’s trying to work out if you’re tricking him. Your head shakes, and Eddie turns your hand in his to bring it to his mouth. He kisses your knuckles, a soft warm press. “S'that what you want?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“Okay,” he says, lips meeting your hand once again. “To the castle, it is.”

Eddie is as quick as usual to drive you home, each turn forcing you to lean to the door or to the centre console. But any urgency seems to vanish the second he’s pulled up by your house. In the van, you wait as he makes sure he has his wallet and his keys, sets the sun visor back into position. When you've jumped out, you watch him check that he's locked each door of the van with more care than you've ever seen from him, like he's particularly worried about a carjacker on your suburban street in broad daylight.

Inside, Eddie is careful about unlacing his shoes and placing them at the door next to yours, toed off your heels carelessly. Then, at the top of the stairs, when you think you finally have him at a regular pace towards your room, you are jolted back by his sudden stop on the landing, leaving your hands connected at the end of stretched arms.

“‘M looking for anything I can use as a weapon, you know?” He says, peering into a vase of fake orchids, examining a glass seahorse statue, scrunching his nose when he gets hit with the scent from a bowl of potpourri. “This all feels a little too easy, and you’ve gotta expect the unexpected in situations like these.”

“Eddie?"

You’re so endeared to him, watching him examine the objects your Mom set out playing up to this story he’s created. But the way he’s stalling, almost hesitant, has you sure you missed a clear sign along the way. “Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you, like, not want to come here?”

His head shoots up then, round eyes blinking. “Of course, I did. I do.” Eddie laughs airily, tucking some of his hair behind his ear as he approaches. “I’m a freak, okay? I’m not crazy.”

You still feel like you’re missing something, wondering if you should offer him another way out. Eddie makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, inviting you to guide him forward. Walking slow to give him time to change his mind, you make your way to your door, decidedly not looking back at him when you enter.

Eddie is unusually quiet, then, following you in but stopping once again when he takes the first step onto your cream carpet. You only glance back at him when you’ve dropped his hand and started playing with your sleeves, comforted by the fact he just seems to be taking everything in. He stands out, all ragged denim and black leather in the pastel softness of your bedroom, and yet he fits so well in a room full of things you love.

He shifts his weight back and forth on the soft carpet, subtly sniffs the air that must smell of you and the apple blossom diffuser on your side table. His eyes drift as he takes in each focal point; the desk laden with textbooks and paper, your windowsill, lined with a couple snow globes, a ceramic cat you’d painted as a child, a framed photo of you and your friends Heather gave you for your 16th. He scans quickly over the cork boards to the corner of the room, smile lines appearing at the sight of your long favourite stuffed animal, a soft grey elephant you’d carefully positioned on a pink cord beanbag, looking ready to start reading judging by the pile of books to her right.

His gaze eventually circles back to you, waiting nervously for his reaction. Eddie shifts back and forth on his feet. “You know, I, uh, gotta admit, I imagined some stained glass.” He gestures lazily to the window, then to your bed, the wooden frame and the blue floral bedspread. “And I was sure you’d have one of those beds with all the fabric, you know what I’m talking about?” He raises both hands to motion the shape of a canopy bed, fingers wiggling.

“Disappointed?” You say, only half joking.

Eddie finally takes a step further in, turning to the shelves of books by your bed. “Me? Nah I was worried about getting tangled up in it, to be honest.” He flashes you a quick grin before scanning over the spines. Eventually, he points to one. “Iron Maiden, yeah?”

You check the book he’s pointing to, The Complete Poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and nod, always pleased by the reminder that Eddie listens, really listens, when you speak. That he remembers so many innocuous things you share with him, things you’d never expect him to remember.

You badly want to reach out for him then, fingers itching to hold his hand, play with his sleeves. You almost do, raising your arm a touch, but a wave of concern hits you, still trying to work out if you’ve done something, said something wrong to make him act like he’d rather not be here.

Eddie catches your stunted movement, eyes blinking at your fidgeting hands before shifting to your face. You’re sure then that your anxiety is clear in your expression, that he sees how eagerly you’re waiting for him to give you an explanation for his hesitancy in the hallway.

Eddie frowns, looking at the books again. He clears his throat. "I've never been in a girls' room before," he tells you. From his voice, it sounds like a confession.

“Oh.” Your brows furrow, trying to work out how that matters. “I mean, they’re not all like this.”

"No, I mean, it’s just that it’s like, a first. For me.” When that doesn’t quite cover your confusion, he continues. “Nobody ever wanted, y'know, me in their room. Or whatever."

Your heart pangs with sudden understanding, the memory of Eddie lying across from you on a blanket, the warm sun on your skin. Am I being too intense? That's what Eddie had asked you, that day at the lake. People say I can be too much too soon.

“And it’s already different, with you. Better. I mean, shit, a million times better,” he says, eyes wide. “But I still just didn’t expect you to, just, ask me, like- Like, you just want me here. Cause it’s never been that simple. Shit. I’m fucking this up, aren’t I?”

“No. No, Eddie,”

“I didn’t wanna make you worried or anything. It’s the complete last thing I’d ever want. I guess I was kinda just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” He laughs again, but it’s hollow, and cuts off too suddenly to be real.

You give in entirely, practically launching at him to wrap your arms around his torso and pull him into a tight, desperate hug. You wish, not for the first time, that you were more like him, better at getting your thoughts into words and saying them.Then you could soothe him like he deserves. Then you could tell him the truth.

Eddie’s face presses to your hair, arms tight around your shoulders.

“Eddie,” you murmur into his shoulder, squeezing him again before you build the courage to look him in the eyes. “You’re so-” Your throat tightens, forcing you to whisper. “You’re so good.” It seems lacklustre, probably a million better words to describe all that Eddie is, but it feels right; it’s what you think, that Eddie is, deep at his core, so good that it hurts. “You’re too good, too good for anyone that made you think-” Your voice cracks, and Eddie blinks shining eyes at you when you reach up to stroke his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, pressing his face to your palm. “I’m okay. Really.”

You press your lips to his, hoping he understands this at least. You feel his smile, and believe that he does. He hums as you shift your kisses to the corner of his mouth, his cheeks. You peck the end of his nose, watch it scrunch sweetly. You’re warmed by the sight of his reddening face, the sound of his laugh. “You know how to make a guy feel appreciated, sweetheart.”

Your hands seem incapable of moving from him, only moving from his cheek to his shoulders, wrists tickled by the fluffy ends of his curls. “I want you here,” you say, a little strained. “I promise.”

“I know. I know you do.”

“I would have invited you earlier,” you continue. “It’s just…”

Eddie’s eyes flash. His hands, big and warm, rub up and down your back, pulling you closer to him until you’re flush against his chest. “It’s just, we couldn’t have done what you want to do,” he finishes. “Not with your parents downstairs. That’s right, isn’t it?”

Your stomach twists with that exciting shame, face hot. You don’t have anywhere to hide, caught by Eddie’s gaze. You still can’t look into his eyes for too long, lest your heart beat out your chest, so you find yourself staring at his lips, pillowy and pink. “Not just that.”

“Okay,” he answers, hand drifting down to skim the end of your skirt. You press closer to him when his fingers tease the soft skin of your thighs, and he breathes a laugh. “But, mainly that, huh?”

Your fingers curl into his shoulders, embarrassed and excited in equal measure that he’s naming your intentions so clearly. You bounce a little on your toes, still gazing at Eddie’s lips, the dents of his laugh lines and his dimples.

Callused fingers reaching under your skirt, his thumb grazing the cotton of your panties, pulling at the elastic. You think you’re being subtle, the way you open your legs a little to make space for him, but know immediately that you failed when Eddie laughs, eyes crinkled at the sides. He breathes a sigh, watching you lose the last pretence that you aren’t a little desperate for him to touch you how he wants. “My good girl.”

Oh, but that makes you ache for him. Your head drops to his neck, hiding your face in his skin. You breathe him in, smoke and Eddie, swallowing a whimper.

“You like that, don't you? Like being a good girl.”

You nod on impulse, willing to agree to just about anything when his fingers drag over your mound, press to the split of your pussy through your panties, the material just grazing your clit. But something about what he's said isn't quite right, and you start shaking your head instead.

Eddie's mouth finds your ear, warm breath teasing the sensitive skin at the top of your neck. "No? Not a good girl?"

You shake your head again, because that's not right either. You tilt your face to catch his gaze, ink dark eyes already waiting for you. "I like-" You sigh when his fingers catch at the fabric that sits at the top of your sex again, giving a single teasing circle that helps you relax enough to tell him the truth of it. “It’s for you, Eddie.”

"Ah," Eddie breathes, finally, finally dipping his fingers past the elastic of your panties. He hums his approval when he finds your clit, swollen and waiting for him. He gives you one tap just to see you pout, then he’s rubbing tight circles that have you trying to press even closer to him, nails digging into his shoulders. “My good girl, mm?"

"Yeah," you nod desperately, proud to see how pleased he looks with you. "Yes, Eddie."

"That's right." He continues, watching your face as your lips open to moan softly, eyelids flickering. His fingers dip quickly to your entrance, dragging slick up to ease the way for his fingers on your button. “Just for me. Cause I'm the one who gets to touch you," he says. "Only I get to hear you like this, yeah? Hear you begging me with that pretty voice?"

"Only you. Please, Eddie."

“S’cause you know I’m gonna take care of you, don’t you, sweet thing? You and this pretty pussy?”

Eddie's fingers keep rubbing at your clit, pulling sensations from your body that only he ever has. Staring at him, hearing his rough voice even as he looks at you like you’re precious, you feel it again, as you have with increasing frequency. How badly you want him like this and every other way. It almost overwhelms you, makes you want to hide away again in his shoulder. But Eddie is owed the sight of the pleasure he brings you, deserves to see it play out on your face, hear every whimper clearly. Eddie coos softly at the sight of you, his free hand coming to support the back of your neck, nodding you through each shaking breath. “That’s it. That’s it. You gonna cum?”

A tremble moves through your body, hips rolling against his hand as you groan into the air. The high builds to a long, half painful peak, your hands grasping at Eddie’s t-shirt, his hair, first for something to hold on to, then because the resulting groan has your cunt clenching around nothing. It crosses over into too much suddenly, twitching away from his hand between your legs even as you give in and throw your face to his neck, kissing your gratitude all over the pale column of his throat. You find his pulse, feel its steady beat under your lips, and bite. It’s little more than a scrape of your teeth, but Eddie shudders in your arms, tilting his head back to let you soothe the bruised skin with your tongue, then kisses.

You sigh deep, relaxing your death grip on his body while Eddie kisses at your sweaty temple. You peek at him then, find the warm brown of his irises swallowed up by darkness, his tongue licking quick over his bitten dark lips. He pulls his hand from your panties, showing you the remnants of your slick on his fingers before licking at his ring finger. “Always taste so good, baby. Wanna try?”

“Uh huh,” you say, head fuzzy with pleasure. Your mouth drops open for him, letting him press his middle finger to your tongue. You close your lips around it, sucking gently. You don’t think it tastes of much at all, but Eddie seems suddenly desperate to get at what he’s given you. He drags his finger from your mouth and captures your lips before you’ve even registered the loss, his tongue licking at yours like he can steal the taste of you back. “That what you were thinking of when you invited me up here, mm?” He says when he breaks away, lips still grazing yours as he speaks. “Or do you want more?”

You do want more. You want Eddie. Want him filling you with the length you can feel, hardening against your thigh. You want to make him feel good, want to hear him groan when he cums. “More, Eddie,” you whisper without shame. “Please.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, leaning in for another desperate kiss, taking advantage of your pliant state to open your mouth to him. “Fuck. I wanna bend you over so bad,” he admits, watching your face for your reaction. “You want that? Want me to fuck you like that in your pretty princess bed?”

Your toes curl, clit throbbing at the playful tone of Eddie’s voice, teasing and rough. “Mm. Okay.”

Eddie tilts his head, meeting your eyes, checking in. “Okay?”

You try to picture it, imagine how Eddie will feel fucking you that way. In truth, you’re stuck on how vulnerable you’ll be; exposed, not able to see him or cling to him the way you like. But it’s Eddie, you assure yourself. You take a breath. “I want that, Eddie.”

The kiss that follows is sweet. It’s a comforting reminder that no matter how much Eddie teases you, how rough he gets, he's still the boy who calls you princess, holds your hand in the car, promises to take care of you.

He helps you remove your shirt from your heated skin, pulls his own over his head the second you start tugging at the hem. Once you have access to his skin, you can't stop touching him, palms flat to his chest, kissing his neck while he pulls your panties down over your hips.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he murmurs, turning you to face your bed. He kisses your shoulder, his body warm at your back. "Climb up for me, mm?"

You want to do what he says. You want him to touch you like this. But you still feel a prickle of nerves as you crawl up to your pillow, body exposed and missing Eddie’s skin already.

“So pretty,” Eddie says above you, behind you, as you rest your chin on your curled arms on top of the mattress. You hear the clink of his belt, toes curling at the sound. Then you feel him through his boxers, hard and hot as he rolls his hips against your ass. You hear him whisper, shit, say something about protection. It's followed by a far off, satisfied a-ha at locating a condom in his discarded jacket, but it’s fuzzy beneath the sudden rushing in your ears.

You feel him again, grinding against you, and you're not sure where all the excitement went. You’re staring at the blue cornflowers on your pillowcase while he continues behind you, remembering the last time you were positioned like this, tense and vulnerable. You try to breathe slow. When that doesn’t work, you try to let the heavy throb between your legs remind you how badly you want this.

It doesn't work, and you focus instead on feeling of just having to lie like this, get through it for him, just stare at the flowers and don't cry and he’ll be finished soon-

The pressure behind you disappears, the mattress shifts under you. Eddie bounces when he flops down beside you, face level with yours and hidden behind his flying hair. He makes soft puh noises like he’s trying to spit it out, blowing it away from his face. You blink, the white noise in your ears fading when you touch him, tucking his hair back behind his ear to find his grateful smile.

“Thanks, baby,” he says. He reaches for your hip, rubbing soft as he presses your arched body down until you're lying, flat to the bed. Then, all heartbreaking gentleness; “where’d you go?”

You stumble, embarrassed. “I, I didn’t-”

“Stopped making those pretty noises for me," he reasons. “Isn't any fun without 'em." Your bottom lip shakes, and you feel like an idiot.

Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Not Andy, not some boy here for himself, only to take and never give.

"Hey," he says, shuffling in until he can bump your nose with his. "We don’t have to do it like this if you don’t want. You know that, right? Don't have to do anything you don't want.”

“It’s not that, I-” You sigh, watch Eddie’s shining eyes, round and soft, waiting for you. “I needed to know it was you. I’m sorry.”

Recognition registers in his face. He frowns, cupping your face in his palm. “No apologies. Not about what you need, okay?”

“Okay, Eddie.”

“Wanna cuddle?”

You do. Desperately. You reach out for him easily, shuffling until you're surrounded by him, clinging to his torso, cheek to his chest.

"Ah," Eddie breathes, wiggling like he can get his skin any closer to yours. "That's the good stuff."

You hadn’t realised how fast, how hard your heart was beating until you’re settled in Eddie’s arms and it starts to slow. There's a minute’s comfortable silence, letting his presence ease you back to comfort. Then he hums, strokes at the hair on your temple. "You gotta tell me when something's not right, ‘kay?" he says seriously. "I like to think I can read you pretty well, but I could've missed it."

"I'm sorry," you say, then, remembering you just agreed not to do that, "sorry."

Eddie breathes a laugh through his nose, leaves a wet kiss on your forehead. "My shy girl, mm?"

"Sometimes it's just…hard to say what I'm feeling. I didn't want you to stop.” You hum. “I don't think I did."

Eddie considers that, still stroking at your hair. "Do you, uh, know what a safe word is?” You shake your head, and he continues. “S’kinda like a code. Something you can just say if you wanna press pause, you know? Means that instead of getting in that head of yours, trying to work out what you want, you can just say a word and we’ll talk about it, yeah?”

You consider it, imagining the scene if you'd been able to just say one thing and slow down. Easier not to have to think through what you need before you tell him, just say one word and let Eddie help you get there, coax from your head what you haven't worked out yourself. "That sounds good, Eddie."

"Yeah?" He asks, eyebrows raising. “Okay. We can keep it simple for now. If we wanna stop completely, for any reason, we say red, yeah? If we need to slow down, talk a little about what we need, we say yellow. And green for keep going. How’s that sound?"

"Good," you say, feeling grateful that you’re learning all these things with Eddie. "It sounds good, but I- I am sorry that I'm, y'know. Difficult, sometimes."

Eddie blinks, eyebrows pulling together. "Difficult? My sweet girl? Nah. Besides," he leans in, closing one eye. "I like looking after you."

You sigh happily when he kisses you, gentle and seeking nothing more than sweet presses. But you're still wet and wanting, hand rubbing across the softness of Eddie's tummy until your fingers draw across the sparse hair at the top of his pants. Eddie makes a noise in the back of his throat that has you pressing your thighs together.

"You wanna turn over, mm? Open those pretty legs for me?”

Yes. You love having Eddie on top of you and inside you. Better every time, as your body gets used to him, as Eddie learns how to draw pleasure from you, as you learn what makes Eddie gasp, makes his hips move desperately like you're the only thing he needs.

But you pause. Now, comfortable in the knowledge that you know how to slow down, stop when you need to, you let yourself imagine Eddie behind you. His hips hitting the back of your thighs, his big hands holding your waist, arching your body just right to slide inside. Letting yourself be vulnerable with Eddie, the feeling of offering yourself up to him, the reward of his touch.

“I want to try, I just, I need-” You don’t know, exactly. You feel another wave of irritation at yourself, wishing you could be a little more simple. That you didn't need to cling to him that first time, that now you need him to work out this hurdle.

Eddie hums, and the mattress shifts again as he sits up behind you. “Lift these hips for me again, sweet thing?” He asks, helping you shift your knees forward, tilting your body up for him. You hear the crinkle of him tearing open a condom, his soft sigh as he rolls it down over his cock. “There’s my girl,” he murmurs, hands smoothing your skirt up, exposing your hot flesh to the air. You shiver up your spine, but when Eddie grinds against you, what follows is his torso stretched along your back until you can feel him pressing wet kisses to your shoulder. The tension falls away, replaced by the tickle of Eddie’s hair at your neck, his sweet sting of his teeth nipping your shoulder, the sound of his pleased hums.

A final touch, his left hand grabs yours on the mattress, linking your fingers up and resting them in your eyeline. You know Eddie’s hands better than you know your own. Thick fingers adorned with a pig, a cross, a skull; all pale skin but for the subtle pink at his knuckles and around his nails. The veins that run from the end of his fingers to his wrist, the dip at the end of his thumb.

“Better?” Eddie asks. You hum happily. You’re so blissfully wrapped up in him like this, surrounded and safe. Eddie’s right hand teases your clit again, presses gently at your entrance and finds you still went and wanting, bearing down at the first dip of his digits inside you. “Fuck, don’t worry, sweet thing. Gonna give you what you need, mm?”

“Eddie,” you say, his name a gentle plea.

“I know,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his. He reaches between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance, the head of his cock tapping torturously at your clit. You have half a mind to kick your legs out in impatience now, settle on whining at the back of your throat. Eddie breathes a laugh into your shoulder, but it shifts immediately to a groan as he presses inside.

You’re still not entirely used to the feeling of him slowly filling you, the edge of pain still leading you to bear down on him, body stuck between desperations; to force him out or or pull him deeper. But then there’s the perfect ache of feeling full, the warmth and heaviness of him inside.

Eddie’s hips roll, the wet sound of him pulling from you making your toes curl. He starts up a steady pace, easing your body into letting him slide deeper into your cunt with each thrust. His fingers return to the top of your sex, rubbing at your sensitive button. With every slow thrust, each stroke of your twitching clit, it feels like your body is opening up to him, easing the way for him to press deeper, push inside a little rougher. Your body flinches, tightens and loosens up all over when the end of his cock finds the back of your pussy, sending waves of pleasure up your spine.

“Feel good?” He says, amusement in his tone. You moan freely, happy to be teased by him as long as he keeps touching you. “Tell me.”

“Feels good,” you parrot, staring at Eddie’s hand in yours, the slow movement of rose tone up his wrist, along to his knuckles as he heats up. You shiver to let in his warmth, his breath on your shoulder, his chest at your back. His cock, hot and thick, fucking you open.

“My good girl,” he murmurs, groaning at the way your cunt clamps down, gushing wet around his thick cock in thanks for his praise. “Christ. I shoulda known that was your favourite,” he breathes, his right hand pressing at your mound to angle your hips just so, helping his cock find the spot at the end of you that makes your thighs shake with every heavy push. “S’mine too.”

His lips travel up the side of your neck to the top of your cheek, eyes finding yours when you turn to him. Eddie gives you a gentle pout at the sight of your mouth open to take gasping, whimpering breaths, your eyes fluttering when he starts to bully your clit in line with the increasingly harsh movements inside you. “You were fucking made for me,” he tells you. “You know that, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You cry out, arms giving way underneath you when your body twitches all over, squeezing tight around Eddie’s invading cock. Your head drops into the mattress next to your joined hands, but you nod desperately, wanting him to see that you know perfectly well. That nobody could make you feel as good as Eddie does.

Eddie keeps your body angled how he wants, adjusting your hips to pull your back into an arch. “All mine, aren’t you? Mine to look after, mine to touch. Mine to fuck-” He gives you a harsh thrust that makes your thighs twitch, legs close to giving out if he wasn’t holding you up with his arm under your stomach. “I wanna feel you cum, yeah? Think you can?”

You’re still nodding, hand gripping his tight, fingers curled through his.

“For me? Just for me?”

Always. Only for Eddie. You can’t say it, mind too far away to form the thought properly, but the feeling of him saying it like that, claiming your pleasure for himself as he drags it out of you with his cock, heavy and hot, and his hand playing with your clit, drives you over the edge. You mewl into the mattress, cunt clenching tight around his throbbing cock as your pleasure peaks.

Eddie makes a soft whimpering sound as you cum, following you down to bury his face in your shoulder. His hips move faster as he starts chasing his pleasure instead of focusing on yours, hand that was teasing your clit now stroking at your hip to soothe your sensitive, twitchy body.

Hearing him now, gasping breaths, whimpers in your ear, you sink happily into this feeling. Almost as good as reaching your own peak, the knowledge that you’re making Eddie feel good. That this boy who treats you so well, dedicates himself to helping you find your pleasure, loses himself a little at the clench of your cunt around him.

You drag your clasped hands to your mouth, kissing at the pink skin of his knuckles. How could anybody not want this with him? How could anybody have given him up? You feel a sudden, desperate possession of him, the need to claim him like he claimed you.

“Mine,” you murmur, pressing your lips to the back of his hand in an array of gentle kisses. Your other hand reaches back to tangle in his hair, scratch at the back of his head as he whimpers. You crane your neck, searching for his eyes. They’re dark, shining as they take you in. His cock twitches inside you, and you squeeze his hand again. “Mine?”

His bottom lip shakes. “Yeah. M'yours. Yours, fuck-” He captures your lips but the kiss ends quick when he groans, hips stuttering in your warmth then sinking deep. You keep scratching at his neck as his body shakes through his orgasm, and still after when his weight drops on you and you fall flat to the bed together. You lie there for minutes, catching your breath, luxuriating in the feeling of being held by Eddie, pussy still clenching weakly around him.

Eddie hums, pulling from you slowly with another wet sound that makes you bury your face in your pillow. He rubs at your hip gently, squeezes your hand a final time before untangling from you to deal with the condom. You make a mental note to do something with that before tomorrow morning, but Eddie has your mind going wonderfully blank again when he bounces back beside you and pulls you in. You’re both a little sweaty, cheek a touch too hot against his chest, but you have no interest in cooling down if it means you have to stop touching him.

“Good?” He asks, fingers rubbing at your temple. You hum a long content sound in answer, not ready to form any coherent thought yet, and feel Eddie’s chest shake with laughter under your cheek. “Good.”

You lay like that, clammy and pleasured, convinced nothing could drag you from this bed. Until you feel a quick pang in your stomach, and the quiet reverie is interrupted by a deep rumble. There’s a moment of silence, then Eddie snorts underneath you. You’d be embarrassed if his laugh didn’t make you want to follow his happiness, smiling shyly when he rubs gently at your tummy. “Hungry work, huh?” He asks, giggling. “Never fear, sweet thing. I can fix that.” He pauses then, licks his lips quickly. “Hey, you got a box of mac and cheese sitting around here, somewhere?”

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

You flinch, watching with increasing horror as Eddie’s attempts to chop the onion you’d handed him. Fingers splayed and terrifyingly close the blade, you’re stuck between gently taking the knife from him and asking point blank how he’s managed to keep all ten fingers intact this long.

“Do you want me to finish that?” You ask, frowning when he shakes his head, still fully concentrated on each dangerous movement, his tongue just poking out of his lips in a physical demonstration of his focus.

If you weren’t so terrified, you’d be appreciating how soft and comfy Eddie looks right now. Black Sabbath t-shirt tucked into his jeans, socked feet ready to slide along your kitchen floor. His dark curls pulled back from his face and braided by your own hands, tied at the end with your favourite lilac scrunchie that you kind of hope he’ll keep.

But you can’t think about it, because you’re terrified Eddie’s going to ruin his musical career here in your kitchen, making pasta.

“No, need, sweet thing,” he assures. “This is a patented Munson technique for chopping onions.”

You could curse yourself for not having any boxed mac and cheese, for suggesting you cook something from scratch together in the first place. You’re used to cooking, with your Mom and Dad, with your friends, and eventually for yourself. But you get the sense that Eddie does a lot of microwaving, looking after himself the same way he has since he was a kid, at dinner time when Wayne is working nights.

“Eddie, can I?” You gently take the knife from him, turning the half of the onion left and chopping it with your thumb tucked in.

He tilts his chin. “Lacks the adrenaline rush that comes with the Munson method,” he says when you’re done, watching you tip the contents of the chopping board into the heated pan on the stove. Then, a little sheepishly, “I, uh, I don’t cook much. If that wasn’t obvious.”

“You don’t like it, or?”

“I like this,” he answers. “And I make breakfast sometimes with Wayne. But not dinner, so much. He’s usually at the plant that time of day, so nobody ever taught me, I guess.” He pauses. “That’s not true. My mom and I used to cook, I think. Sometimes.”

You wait for a couple of seconds, watching the onions and garlic soften. “When you were a kid?”

“Yeah, we’d make stuff like this. Or, she would. I think I’d just watch mostly. Stir stuff, lick the spoon.”

“Best part,” you say, smiling. Then, watching him carefully. “Your Mom, she…?”

“She died,” he finishes with a shrug. He taps at the counter with his knuckles. “Then I lived with my old man, and he was not one for cooking lessons,” he laughs derisively. “Then one day the bastard dropped me off at Wayne’s. Best thing he ever did for me. Not that he cared either way, he was just sick of having me around.” Eddie finally looks at you then, and catches something in your expression that makes him wince, the laughter that follows clearly forced. “Christ, sorry. I’m really dumping on you today.”

“Don’t apologise, Eddie.”

“Nah, I shouldn’t have-” He shakes his head, tapping the counter again before resting his palms at the edge. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Eddie, of course it matters,” you say, turning off the stove to approach him, standing separated from his body by his arm reaching to the counter, keeping you from wrapping around him the way you want to. “Of course it matters.”

Eddie shrugs again, and it’s another one of those moments where you wish you were more like him. Eddie always knows what to say, senses where you’re hurt and how to soothe it, knows when to talk and when to just hold you.

But now that it’s your turn, you’re left feeling useless, stuck just wanting to cry at the thought that anyone has ever hurt him, made him feel like he has something to apologise for just for being around.

“I think you’re so wonderful, Eddie,” you say. “I want you around all the time.”

There’s a second of something. He turns to meet your gaze, searching your face with a frown. Then he gives you a small, barely there smile. The arm between you raises to let you close, wrap him up in a tight hug. You feel his body lose tension as he sighs, your hand stroking his back the way you know he likes. “I want you around all the time, too, sweet thing,” he says softly. “I really do.”

Next Chapter

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x shy!reader

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that-one-gay-writer1227 · 1 year

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Giving Him a Show

Tighnari x Fem!Reader smut

A/N: Hey everyone. A few things before I start. Firstly, I would like to credit my dear friend @hitomisuzuya for giving me a lot of the fuel for this, most of this fic was their idea so please go and show them some love<3 Secondly, for all of my writers out there, I'd like for any constructive critisim in the comments. I want to improve my smut writing given this is my first time in the genre, and finally if you've been following my xiao x reader 30 day challenge, i'll be posting day 6 tomorrow morning around noon.

summary: It was your day off from your job as a forest ranger in the avidya forest in a while, so you decided to spend it having a little fun. Or at least until a certain someone shows up asking for your research papers, leading you on a rollar coaster

warnings: slight angst, fluff, slow burn, porn with plot, masterbation, dom!tighnari, breeding kink, orgasm denial, biting/marking, cunnilings, tighnari calls y/n baby and "little flower" a few times, teasing, hair pulling, choking, both praise and mild degration, use of "good girl", vaginal penetration.

PSA: dont be silly, cover the willy folks <3

~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally

It had been a full week of nonstop work. You haven't even had a chance to sit down and enjoy a full meal without having to multitask. You knew this job was gonna be busy but damn, you didn't realize that also included sacrificing your free time.

On the plus side, who knew you'd get lucky enough to have an attractive teammate. His black and green hair, his hazel eyes, the playful sarcasm...

My archons, sometimes that was the only reason you'd show up. Of course, you were always an amazing employee. Hardworking and strong ethics. But that doesn't mean you could help the butterflies tingling in your tummy every time you thought about the way his hands would feel caressing your hips. The way he would gently squeeze before moving lower and lower-

You'd take today's free day as a chance to deal with the frustration that'd been steadily building.

You felt your heart rate increase. The absolute sheer thought of him touching you making you needier by the moment. You lay down against your soft bedsheets, the cool sheets a sheer contract to your heated skin.

You needed him, you needed to feel him inside of you, stretching you, making you beg pathetically for him.

Your hands began to wander gently over your neck, down your chest, and over your stomach. You caressed the outside of your thighs squeezing them while imagining him doing the same while absolutely drilling into you hungrily.

You let out a subtle moan, feeling how wet you were growing. Your hands ghosting over your clothed, soaked cunt. The small movement forced a soft hip buck from you.

You wanted to feel him running his hands over your folds, barely touching. You wanted him to hold your hands above your head, his hot breath mere inches from your ear. His pants, and the sound of his fingers tantalizingly slowly circling around your entrance before plunging into it. Him telling you how good you're being for him.

You quickly took your shorts and undergarments off, the cold air licking against your aching sex. It didn't take much for your hands to snake down. you didn't bother being quiet. I mean, why would you?

You pressed two fingers into your cunt, stretching yourself as much as you could, but it just wasn't enough. You needed more. You were absolutely feral trying to press deeper, deeper. Yet you could only barely touch that one heavenly spot deep inside.

Here you were, desperately whining and soaking. Completely unaware of the unexpected guest now at your front door. You were slowly reaching climax begging outwardly for someone who wasn't there to touch you. You just couldn't reach far enough, nothing was filling you like you imagined he could.

To Tighnari, who was now at your door, blissfully unaware of the sins you were committing, you were probably taking some kind of nap or doing whatever you normally do in your free time.

He went to knock on the door when he heard it. He thought you were in pain, I mean it sounded like you were sobbing. He was unsure of what to do, should he bust in to help you? Or would you rather he left you instead of being viewed in so much pain?

It took him only a few seconds to make up his mind, he twisted the handle, surprised to find it entirely unlocked. Now he was really worried. If you were in so much pain that you'd forgotten to lock the door behind you then he made the right choice to go help.

He hurriedly searched the house for you. But the more he heard you, the more he questioned what the sounds were of. Eventually, he walked up the stairs toward your bedroom.

There was a slight crack in the door, clearly, you hadn't closed it behind you. He didn't want to intrude on your privacy, but he was only worried. He opened the door, almost immediately regretting his decision.

You still hadn't noticed him, your fingers pumping in and out of your drenched cunt. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you came closer and closer to what you'd been working for, crying his name.

That was until you made eye contact with him.

The shrill scream you let out was ear-shattering as you scampered to find something to cover yourself with, wielding no results.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry! I was just-just coming to get some papers but I see that your-your uhm busy! I'll go now-" The poor brunette's face reddened as he forced the words out of his mouth, bolting down the stairs and out of the house.

You were absolutely mortified. Heart and breath fast, you felt tears of embarrassment clouding your eyes, wondering just how much he saw, just how much he heard.

Little did you know, the young man ran down and hid behind a tree to catch his breath, taking careful notice of the painful tent in his pants.

~~~~~~~~

You dreaded the next morning. You had to go back to work and face Tighnari, and as much as you wanted to hide in a hole for the rest of your life, you knew that you had no other choice but to go.

You took a deep breath, before walking into the forest rangers headquarters. You found your station to collect your daily materials and tasks, thankful to not have yet run into Tighnari. You took your supplies and left the building as fast as you could. In attempts of trying to avoid a certain someone, you ran smack dab right into him.

You both fell to the ground with a loud thump. His cheek landed across your chest. You froze the second you realize fully what happened. First, he catches you fucking yourself, and now you literally tripped him into this position. The universe just can't cut you a break, can it?

"Ow..." He grilled before raising his head to look at you, unaware that it was you. His face turned red as his eyes widened, now hovering over you, arms on either side of your shoulders, ears ever slightly downward towards his head.

You turn your head to the side, breaking eye contact, face fully flushed bright crimson.

Oh, archons you wanted to kiss him so badly, To explore how his lips dance. But you knew you couldn't. Not after yesterday.

He quickly sat up. Backing away red-faced, He didn't say anything for a moment. You both sat there wide-eyed, and red. The silence between you two was thick and painful.

Tighnari was about to say something, just opening his mouth, but instead of sticking around to hear what was going to be said, you stood up and started running down the path, clutching your work to your chest to keep yourself grounded.

Tighnari sat there a little dumbfounded. He closed his mouth, not even realizing he was about to speak. His mind was filled with images of you lying under him, and yesterday.

He wouldn't admit it, but he wanted nothing more than to see you like he did yesterday again. Archons what he wouldn't give for that.

~~~~~~~~

A few days had passed and you'd be lucky enough to avoid tighnari as much as possible. Of course, he was still there and there were still times you were near him, but you hadn't had to actually talk to him in time.

Well, today you and he had to finish some research you both had started the previous month. This was unavoidable. actually, it was the same research project that he needed the papers for, but then the incident happened.

Most of the embarrassment was dying down, at least you didn't feel like dying every time that he was around so that was progress in your eyes. Though it was still a little tense.

You sat next to Mr. forest ranger himself, in silence. You couldn't bring yourself to look up from your hands. It was still awkward and you didn't want to make him more uncomfortable than he already had been.

"Here, I'll finish the logs and we can start compiling our data." His voice was a little stricter than normal. He sounded like he didn't want to be there, which made you feel anxious. You nodded and gripped your hands a little tighter. You had half the heart to race out the door and never look back, but you knew you wouldn't be able to get ten feet before Tighnari caught up to you.

You heard him sigh and stand up, walking over to a bookshelf behind you. You turned around slightly feeling tears prick your eyes. You didn't want that to be the way he saw you and it really was eating you up inside. You felt horrible, what if he hates you now?

You turned back in your seat a few tears falling down your cheeks, you couldn't help but let out a small whimper.

You loved him, and now the thought of him hating you all because you made a mistake was a little too much for you. It wasn't your fault, you were simply enjoying your body, but you hated the fact that it made him uncomfortable.

You brought your hands over your face, trying not to make a lot of noise but you couldn't stop yourself. You'd already broken the damn.

"Hey...hey y/n what's wrong?" Tighnari rushed over and sat in front of you on his knees, holding your wrists gently. He pulled your hands away from your face gently, but you turned your face from him as best as you could.

"I'm-i'm sorry. I didn't mean to make things weird, I just- i- please... can I just go home?" You whimpered out, still crying and tucking your head away from him as best you could. He took a deep breath, feeling unaware of what you'd be comfortable with, and moved his hands from your wrists to your hands.

"Of course, you can. I'll take care of this here. take as much time as you need." That is all he said before he went to stand up, kissing your forehead. The sentiment went over your head as you walked out of the room, going back to your abode to sleep the rest of the day away.

The next evening you were greeted with a knock at the door. Your eyes were only a little puffy but you couldn't stop thinking about your meltdown in front of Tighnari. You felt like an idiot! There was no way you'd be able to face him again. Fearing that it was him at the door, you stayed in bed until there was another knock.

You sighed deeply and stood from your bed dressed in only a long nightshirt and some undergarments. You walked down the stairs and through the hallway that lead to the front door, the cold floor hitting your feet.

"Who is it?" Your voice was a little shaky, and somewhat gruff from just waking up.

"It's me, I was just stopping by to see if you were ok, and to see if we could talk" Tighnari spoke through the door. You grasped the handle and cracked the door just slightly. Enough to see his face. He looked kinda sad but also relieved to see that you were ok.

"Alright, just give me a moment, I'm not decent." You almost whispered the last part, but given the small flick of his ears, you knew he heard it.

He gave you a soft smile, "no rush, take your time."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sitting at the table across from one another, you didn't know what to say. It felt awkward for you both like you both had something you wanted to say but just couldn't find the words.

"I'm sorr-" "about th-"

You both interrupted each other.

"sorry you go ahead"

You both spoke at the same time again, this time making you giggle. You couldn't help but notice how his tail swished and his face flushed at that, a smile of his own creeping on his face.

"You can go first y/n." He said patiently. You really were head over heels for this plant nerd.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry about what you saw the other day. it's just- I let my imagination get the best of me, and I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable in any way. I- I understand if you don't want to be friends anymore-" Your tone was so quiet and timid. he could sense the feeling of regret in your words.

Truth be told, he didn't want you to regret your actions, in fact,

he wanted you to do them again.

He stood up from his chair and walked over to you cautiously. Your eyes filled with curiosity and confusion only spurred him more.

"Is that what this was about?" He walked over to you and grabbed your chin. He wasn't sure what got into him but he knew he hated the thought that you regretted what you'd done.

He wanted you to know that he'd wanted to see you like that for a while. Naked and at his mercy. He just never had the chance. Your eyes opened wider when he got closer to your face.

You nodded feeling his breath fanning over your lips, looking at his own. he glanced down to meet your lips before leaning in and chastely connecting them.

It was quick and hesitant but you felt like you were on fire. Your breathing was heavy and your heart was out of control.

He seem to take notice of this and went to lean back up, but you threw caution to the wind and grabbed the sides of his face, pulling him back in. Your lips met one more time in a much deeper kiss. Your hands still wrapped around his cheeks, your thumbs massaging under his eyes softly.

The kiss was meant to be innocent, simply an experience out of adrenaline. But the next thing you knew he had pulled you to your feet and wrapped his hands around your waist, pulling you flush against his body.

You felt him lick your bottom lip before taking it into his mouth and biting hard. You gasped just enough for him to slip his tongue between your lips, giving him the chance to explore.

You broke away to catch your breath looking at him. He smiled at you with a tint of mischief in his eyes. "Show me," he uttered while smirking.

"Show you what?" You had a feeling you knew what he was meaning but you wanted to make sure before you embarrassed yourself. He took your hand and led you up the stairs behind him.

"I want you to touch yourself for me."

~~~~~~~~~~

You closed the door to your bedroom. He pulled a chair to the end of the bed and sat down. He signaled for you on the bed pulling you to stand in front of him. You looked at him with doe eyes as he licked his lips subtly. He looped his hands onto your pants and undergarments pulling them down for you.

Tighnari kissed your hands before pushing you back against the bed. You sat on the edge, resting one leg on the side of the chair, the other off to the side. Your face was red, embarrassed at what was happening.

"Show me how to do it baby" He ordered. You felt yourself growing wetter by the moment. You reached a hand down and palmed your clothed clit, The stimulation being almost intoxicating. You started running your index and middle finger down and up your dripping folds keeping your eyes trained on the raven-haired man in front of you.

It didn't take long before you were needing more feeling than ever.

"Go ahead, tell me what you were imagining me doing to that slutty body of yours, little flower~"

You tightened your thighs a little and clenched around nothing. You shook your head. How were you supposed to explain what you were imagining without freaking him out?

He chuckled darkly before spreading your thighs. He grabbed your hands off of your cunt and held them together resting on your stomach before leaning forward.

His hot breath felt heavenly against your saturated pussy. you bucked your hips hoping for some sensation of contact, but you were met with nothing but his hot breath. You kept bucking your hips whining for some kind of contact.

"You know, when we were finishing our research the other day, I couldn't get the thought of you bent over the table while I fucked into you out of my head." He inched closer to your sex, and now you could gently feel his tongue softly caress your clit once before he nuzzled his nose against it just as softly. He spoke again his voice whining and high-pitched. " You just smelt so good~ There wasn't any way for me to concentrate. You just smell...so....good~"

The moan you let out was pornographic and pathetic. Your thighs were as spread apart as your hips would allow, you were barely ten minutes in and he already had you so desperate for his touch.

You threw your head back when his tongue once again pressed your lips before removing just as quickly. He blew on your clit relishing in the way you were thrashing for him to eat you out. "Are you gonna tell me now?~ I might be inclined to give you a reward for your cooperation, little flower."

"You- I, I was imagining you... ah-" You were cut off as he delved his tongue up and down your pussy with a grunt. He paused to wait for you to continue, locking eyes with you. He watched you, his eyes dangerous and lustful. You let out a shaky breath understanding that you were fully under his control now. "You were...ngh.. holding me down by my- my wrists and- fingering me... while telling me how good I was for you-"

He moaned into your cunt as you told him what you fantasized about. He let go of your hands and grabbed your thighs, pulling you closer against his face until you were sure he'd suffocate. you grabbed the back of his head and pulled him against you and bucked your hips riding his face reverently.

"Please 'Nari, I'm so- close please..." You whined pulling his hair a little bit. He chuckled against your cunt and pulled away leaving you whining and trying to pull him back. He simply took your hand and put it to your side. He stood up towering over you and leaning to meet your level. He kissed you slowly and tenderly as he grabbed both of your hands pinning them on either side of your head.

You wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him closer, causing him to grind against you needily. He took your hands and held them with one above you much like how you imagined. Your stomach did flips realizing that this was happening.

His other hand gently glided down your sides and over your hips, finally landing just over your pussy, barely brushing over it. You whimpered against his lips.

"Just like that, good girl. You're being such a good little slut for me." He cooed you. His lips left your mouth and traveled down your face to your throat. "Mine, mine, mine" he chanted between harsh bites that you knew would leave marks by morning.

His hand between your thighs soon dipped into your entrance. They started slow. Gently pressing and stretching your walls as tighnari kissed and sucked on your neck, effectively marking you. Gradually his finger thrusts become stronger and stronger until he was thoroughly finger fucking the brains out of you.

You felt yourself nearing your climax yet again, only to have it ripped away as he released his hand, bringing his fingers to his mouth tasting you yet again.

"The only thing your gonna cum on is my cock. Am I clear?" His tone was demanding and velvety. You nodded eagerly, absolutely desperate for release. "Good, cuz I think you're ready for me."

He undid his belt buckle, pulling his erect cock from his clothing and discarding the rest. He pulled the shirt off your body in one swift movement. He pushed you further up the bed and climbed over you. Your eyes slowly trailed downwards but snapped back up incredibly embarrassed.

He placed a hand on your chin and forced you to look at him, instead of off to the side as it was. "Go ahead, you can look. I know you're curious." Your face was impossibly heated now. You took a shaky breath and started to look down. You felt your eyelids flutter slightly at the sheer glimpse. Archons, he was perfect.

"Please...please just fuck mee~"

He took the invitation, swiftly lining his cock at your entrance, moving it up and down a few times to gather slick. the teasing motion made you squirm in your spot, to which he replied by grabbing your hips and thrusting into you. Slowly at first so as not to hurt you.

Inch by agonizing inch he gripped your thighs and filled your aching hole with his cock. "Want me to breed you that bad huh? my little slut wants me to fill her up with my fucking cum that badly?"

His words made you clench around him earning a hiss. He slapped your thigh gently to warn you to not do that again. But you blatantly disobeyed.

You ground your hips while fluttering your walls, making him moan loudly. His grip on your hips getting tighter, he growled and began thrusting his dick in you haphazardly.

"Your my bitch. my little bitch in heat. you're taking me so well little flower. so tight... I'm gonna fill you so full. gonna fill you with babies. gonna make you a mommy." He moaned into your ear.

"I'm gonna cum-" You whimpered, pulling him all the way against you.

"Cum for me baby."

And just as commanded, you came loud and hard. Trembling in his grasp. You felt your heart rate pound against his as you rode out each other's orgasms.

He rested his head against your chest, smiling and panting hard. His hands fell to either side of you in a hug. You were both exhausted. You pet his ears while gazing into earthly his eyes.

"Hey y/n?" he started. "I think I love you."

#tighnari #genshin tighnari #tighnari x y/n #tighnari x reader #tighnari x you #tighnari smut #tighnari scenario #tighnari imagines #genshin drabbles #genshin boys #genshin fic #bit of angst #idk how to tag sorry #smut

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chocolatechubby · 1 year

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Bernie's Big & Tall

By Fatbrwncub

(posted with the permission of the Author)

The biggest problem--excuse me while I finish this last bite of cruller--is where to begin. It all seems to have happened so fast. One minute I'm standing in the unemployment line, trying to figure out where my next meal is coming from; the next thing you know, I'm getting the doors in my apartment widened so that I can get through. Oops! There goes another button.

Let me go back to the beginning--back to that unemployment line. My lover and I had been having problems making ends meet. There wasn't a great deal of a demand for my particular line of work in the winter---I was a lifeguard. At 6' 2" and 180 pounds, I cut a muscular frame, but everyone looks pretty much the same bundled up in parkas. My old job at the "Y" would probably have hired me back, but the pay stunk. And with a new lover, Sean, I had another mouth to consider. Sean suggested that I try modeling --his chosen profession, but as gorgeous as he was, he wasn't getting much work either. Why should we both be jobless cover boys? So, I headed to the unemployment office. Maybe something there would turn things around. Little did I know how right I was.

The place was depressing. Fluorescent light and peeling yellow walls covered everything like a moldy blanket. Cheap plastic chairs were set up for clients to wait for their turn to be humiliated by the next available counselor: "You'll have to take forms 2 thru 26 to windows 5 thru 14. Fill out lines A thru F on forms 30, 31, & 45; have them notarized and come back to me.... THEN I can tell you where the rest rooms are." As much as I needed the money, I wasn't up for that kind of run around. The YMCA was looking really good at that moment. As I got up to leave, I noticed the chair next to me quiver ever so slightly--as if a tremor were going through the building. The little table next to it was moving too. Now being hundreds of miles away from California, I knew it couldn't possibly be an earthquake. I was wrong. It was indeed an earthquake in human form. From around one of the peeling yellow corners, came the largest guys I had ever seen. His stomach seemed to go on forever, riding over his belt and spilling onto his massive underbelly like a tidal wave. Each of his labored steps made it quiver and roll. His arms, chest, and shoulders were so large that he had to twist his body slightly to maneuver the corner, yet each movement had an elephantine grace that was something to see. He was dressed impeccably in a suit that must have been tailor-made for him: it hung gracefully on his gargantuan figure. He was quite handsome, dusty blonde hair and neatly trimmed beard, and the bluest eyes. Growing up, the party queens I hung with always made fun of fat guys. Somehow, I always found something vaguely attractive about men with extra meat on their bones. I absent-mindedly rubbed my stomach as I watched him make his way to a Job Resource bulletin board on the other side of the room. He scanned the whole area carefully--deep in concentration, he seemed to be looking for someone. When his eyes met mine, his mood abruptly changed. His full round mouth had a slight smile on it as he zeroed in on me. I got the feeling he was studying me-not in that "cruisey" way, but as if he were trying to figure me out. He, raised a sausage-like finger, and motioned me over to him. For some reason, I wasn't taken aback at all. Something about him seemed so familiar. "Looking for a job?", he said. "Kinda", I replied. He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a candy bar and a folded piece of green paper. "Wanna bite?", He asked. "No thanks…", I replied "…but I could use work." He unfolded the piece of paper and tacked it on the bulletin board, smudging it slightly with the chocolate from his fingers. "Well then, you might wanna check this out." With that, he took a large bite of candy bar, turned around, and began lumbering back down the hallway. I was about to say something when he stopped and turned around again (no easy feat for a man his size). "How old are you?", he asked. Slightly startled by his abrupt departure, I blurted out "29." Before I could ask him why it mattered, he patted his mountain of a stomach and smiled a knowing smile: "Same age as I was when I started at BB&T. See ya' around Danny!" And with that, he and his tremors were gone.

BB&T? I looked at the piece of paper for a moment. I took it down from the board and began studying it--trying to make it tell me more about the big, mysterious stranger. But all it did was sit in my hand and smell of Hershey's. The only writing was a quickly scribbled address and telephone number: "Bernie's Big and Tall-525-BIGG. The chocolate had formed a ring around the writing so that it looked like a halo. I laughed at the idea of working in a big men's shop, but hell, I needed work badly. Besides, something inside me started recalling the times when I'd been oddly aroused by the large men who were the butt of my friends' jokes. Maybe by working there, I could discover what the attraction was all about. I walked over towards the pay phone in the corner chuckling to myself. That's when it struck me that he'd called me by my name-Danny. Did I know him? He really did look familiar....

The phone rang ten times before someone answered at Bernie's. When someone did pick up, they were so out of breath I had to wait a couple seconds for a "hello". Then I remembered what type of establishment this was---all the employees probably looked like the guy I'd just met. Well, if for no other reason, they could hire me to answer the telephone. I smiled. It turned out to be Bernie himself on the line. Before I had a chance to say "Hello", or introduce myself, Bernie cheerfully announced: "Danny! Joe said you'd be calling! When can you start?" I was stunned. I stammered out, "B-but you don't even know me!" "I don't have to!" was his amiable reply. "Anybody that Joe picks will work out fine!" I didn't have the guts to tell him that I had no idea who the hell "Joe" was, but then maybe he was an old friend of my family's. Who was I to look a gift horse in the mouth? Especially from such a large horse!

Bernie's Big and Tall was in a little strip mall just outside of the city. It took me two maps and three detours to find it. I almost gave up, but something told me to keep looking. A small card shop on one side and a bakery on the other flanked the store, and were the only other establishments in the complex. I was sure the employees at the Big and Tall kept the bakery in business because it was too far away from anything else to have a regular clientele. The store itself was rather unimpressive: a sign painted on the window proclaimed "Bernie's" with a silhouette of a rotund man underneath. A couple of half dummies sat dejectedly in the window--the clothing which covered them obviously too large for their frames. The one rather curious and slightly impressive item was the door to the front of the shop. It was huge. Much larger than the doors in most retail establishments, it must have been custom made for Bernie's king-size clientele. What did it feel like to need extra room for everything? When I put my hand on the handle to push the door open, I got the strangest feeling that if I stepped across the threshold of this place, my life would change forever. "This is ridiculous!" I remember thinking to myself "It's just a job for goodness sakes!" I pushed the door open and went in.

Lone Star's "I'm Already There" was playing on a far off country music station as the bell over the door gave a little tinkle. The place had that slightly musky perfume of your grandfather's closet-that subtle scent of fine pipe tobacco and Old Spice. The shop was much bigger than it seemed from the outside, and had a second level with a balcony and offices that overlooked the showroom floor. For a moment, I felt as if I was on a sound stage for "Land Of The Giants"-everything seemed oversized. From the racks that were set up for the tallest of the tall, to the suits that looked like they were made for Guinness Book Fattest Man nominees. All were neatly hung on rotating racks or show room displays. I'd never worked retail, but somehow I felt right at home. From above boomed a lusty voice: "Danny!". I looked up to find a large man leaning on the steel railings of the balcony. It didn't seem possible, but he was even bigger than Joe from the unemployment office. Every part of him was fat-from his puffy hairstyle, to his big feet. He looked like a balloon character from the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I half expected to see wires attached to him with people below maneuvering him. "Bernie?" I queried and his hearty laugh confirmed it. "None other my boy! Come on up!"

Bernie's office was at the top of the stairs. As I bounded up, two at a time, Bernie let out a chuckle "That's something you don't see many of our salesmen do!" He ushered me ahead of him and I walked through another enormous door to find myself in a small room, made smaller by its furnishings. It consisted of a small oak desk, and a computer-standard office fare. However, the large refrigerator, stand-alone pantry, coffee maker and microwave were not. "Before we begin, may I offer you something to eat?" Bernie asked, already carefully maneuvering his way around the desk to the refrigerator. It was somewhat surreal watching this super-sized man practically squeeze his way through the cramped quarters. He opened the refrigerator to reveal a small deli: meats of all kinds, exotic breads and cheeses, beverages ranging from soft-drinks to fine wines, all carefully stocked within its quarters. Bernie rummaged through, and pulled out an overstuffed submarine sandwich and began munching. His grunts of pleasure permeated the office, and instead of revulsion, I actually enjoyed watching this man eat with such gusto. For so many years, I had deprived myself of some of my favorite foods in exchange for the washboard stomach that I possessed. Maybe, if I worked here, I could live vicariously through these guys. My internal reverie ended with Bernie's voice. "Well at least share a cup of coffee with me. I hate nourishing myself alone." I smiled my assent and Bernie squeezed his way to the coffeepot. I was not a big coffee drinker, but I figure a little kiss up wouldn't hurt my job prospects any. Besides, for some reason the coffee smelled particularly delicious.

Bernie produced two mugs-each with the Big and Tall logo I had seen on the front door of the shop. "How do you take yours?" he cooed. "Black" I answered. "Well you must indulge me one small addition to your mug…I make my own blend of spices that seem to really liven up the coffee-nothing much, just some cinnamon and vanilla. Stuff like that. You're not allergic to anything are you? I told him no, and he took a small packet from the standing pantry, tapped it lightly on the desk, tore the corner and emptied the contents into my cup. The granules looked like Folgers Crystals-little flecks of something shiny danced and fell gracefully into the mug. Bernie took a small silver spoon and began stirring the coffee. The aroma was like nothing I had smelled before. Memories of big Sunday breakfasts and hearty Thanksgiving dinners suddenly became as vivid as if they'd happened yesterday. Nights spent eating cotton candy and funnel cake at the local carnival-laughing with my friends and gorging on hotdogs-all seemed palpable. Bernie brought the mug close to my nostrils and placed my hands around it. "Drink, my boy. And then we can talk about your joining us at BB&T."

Almost mesmerized, I brought the cup to my lips and took a sip. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. The beans of the coffee blended with the spices and my taste buds seemed to spring to new life. The thoughts of all of the goodies I had denied myself over the years began to turn into a craving, then a hunger. I could feel my stomach began to growl for food. I had grabbed a McMuffin when I'd left the unemployment office, but that had been several hours ago. It was natural for me to feel starved. But in the middle of a job interview? I had to eat something. As if on cue, Bernie produced an enormous plate of chocolate chip cookies. "Have one?" Bernie again cajoled. "I--I--…" I stuttered, but no other words would come out. The cookies looked like manna from heaven. I could feel the drool forming on my tongue. I grabbed one and placed it in my mouth. It melted like butter, blending with the coffee and exploding my senses like an orgasm. My crotch leapt, writhing with the rise and fall of my breath. I came up for air, took another cookie and a sip of the coffee. Again, the exact same sensation-yet more intense. I thought I was going to erupt right then and there. I gulped more of the drink and began inhaling the pastries with lightening speed. In less then ten minutes the entire plate was empty. The wildest thing of all…I was still hungry!

I looked up at Bernie, who was standing over me with a knowing smile. "It's always better to talk on a full stomach." He went to the refrigerator and pulled out another overstuffed submarine sandwich-twice the size of the one he'd just eaten. "Are you sure I can't tempt you with one of these?" My mouth opened automatically, and Bernie floated over and placed the monstrous hoagie in my hands. I tore into it as if I hadn't eaten in weeks. In between bites, Bernie suggested that we carry our meeting to The Blue Whale, a restaurant frequented by he and his staff. As I rose to go, onions and lettuce falling everywhere, Bernie touched the intercom on his desk. "All right boys…" the echo of his voice could be heard in the showroom below "…time for our foray to The Blue Whale! Close up shop!" In between munching, I could hear, and feel great activity from the floor below. The floor vibrated much like it had done in the unemployment office. We moved out of the office and onto the balcony to a sight that would have sent my old faggy friends into a tizzy. Below were five of Bernie's staff-each one plumper than the next. They stood at attention as we came down the stairs. Bernie introduced me to each, ending with their newest salesman, Dominic. He had to weigh at least 350 pounds. "This is our baby!" Bernie gushed, pinching Dominic's flushed cheek. "Been with us about a year" he poked Dominic's round middle. "He's starting to fit in quite nicely." Bernie lumbered towards the door, pulling me along with him. "Daniel here will be joining us for lunch-and hopefully more. Make him feel at home." And still in a spin from all that had happened since walking through the doors of Bernie's Big & Tall, I was off to The Blue Whale.

The Blue Whale was quite nice--muted tones of aqua and gray gave it warmth and style. A Bach concerto whispered softly as Bernie and the other salesmen took their seats. We had been ushered to a table in a private area of the restaurant--one large enough for the substantial girth of our party. It was obvious that Bernie and the gang were regulars, because all of the wait-staff knew everyone by name. It was also pretty obvious that time that the entire staff of Bernie's was gay. Underneath a curtained archway, a cadre of handsome waiters looked ready to break into a chorus of "Hello Dolly". They giggled and whispered as if they were dance hall girls anxious to see which gentleman would pick them out of the crowd. The headwaiter, who looked to be about Bernie's size, clapped the others to attention. "Don't just stand there like a bunch of schoolgirls! Take these gentlemen's orders!" he barked. "Oh Jacques," Bernie cooed "...just bring us our usual!"

I was returning to normal, my appetite assuaged and my pants screaming to be unzipped-my distended belly playing hide and seek with the buttons on my shirt. It was time to ask about hours and pay, and all the standard stuff. As I opened my mouth to get down to business, the first of the waiters arrived with the appetizers. There was enough food to feed a small city. Plate upon plate of mouth watering delicacies passed before the table: shrimp wrapped in bacon, small puff pastries stuffed with creams and cheeses and meats-anything that I had ever seen at fancy buffets was now being placed under my nose. I thought of the spectacle I must have made in Bernie's office, and my stomach began to turn. The thought of more food was making me nauseous. And then the coffee arrived. Jacques himself brought out the ornate samovar and ushered it towards Bernie. "Monsieur Bernie" he chimed. "Ze coffee wis your special mix eez ready". As Jacques opened the spigot and poured the first cup, the table went silent. Unbelievably I could feel my stomach loosen. I could feel the insatiable hunger I had felt in Bernie's office return. It was as if I had never eaten the mound of cookies. Just the aroma of the incredible liquid wafting into my nostrils was enough to make me want to stuff something in my mouth. All around me, the other men were having a similar reaction. I remember seeing episodes of "Wild Kingdom" with sharks or packs of wolves in a feeding frenzy. There was a primitive ritual about to happen, and everyone knew it. As the coffee was passed around, Dominic, began to sweat. When a cup made it to him, he grabbed it, and chugged down the hot liquid as if it were the first drink of a dehydrated man. He then grabbed the nearest tray of hors d'oeuvres and began shoveling them into his mouth. Sweat glistened on his brow as he tipped the tray up and up until he was literally swallowing and chewing almost simultaneously. A waiter quickly scurried over and began wiping his brow and massaging his hardening belly. I sat in awe as I watched each of the sales guys fall into the same kind of trance-that is until my cup reached me.

I recall one of the adventures of Homer's "Odyssey", in which Odysseus and his men encounter the witch Circe. Once on her island, she turns most of the men into animals. Bernie had led his men into the modern day version of that adventure. I don't remember much about the rest of that meal. As my haze parted from time to time, I was aware of grunts and moans of pleasure coming from around the table. Slurping and guzzling and licking were followed by burps and the occasional button pop or zipper pull being loosened. Halfway through the fourth course, everyone abandoned silverware and began eating off of plates and trays with their hands and mouths. I found myself caressing and licking the gravy off of plates as if it were a lover. No mouthful seemed enough-I couldn't get the food in fast enough, and the sounds and sights around me seemed to urge me on. By dessert, each man was no longer able to feed himself. The waiters took over and began shoveling whipped cream, cakes and pies into our dazed faces. I can't tell you how much I ate, but I literally couldn't move. My belly was as hard as a ripe cantaloupe and I closed my eyes and slept.

When I awoke, the entire table had been cleared off. Any trace of the feeding frenzy had been wiped away, and all of the men had been cleaned up and were groggily coming to themselves. If it weren't for the screaming pain coming from my stomach, I would have thought it all a dream. Standing above me was a beaming Bernie. "I hope you got enough to eat." The boys and I do this at least three or four times a week. Don't worry about the bill…I take care of that." I sat up and blinked. I couldn't believe this was happening. Bernie handed me a packet of papers-the standard Human Resources forms to fill out along with information about my salary and benefits. My eyes almost popped out of my head when I saw how much I'd be making. It was at least five times what I would have made at the "Y". How could he afford to pay for all of this? Bernie saw my reaction. He said "Don't worry, this salary is only temporary. With raises and incentives you'll quadruple it in no time. So do we have a deal?" Was he crazy? I propped myself up on my swollen stomach and shook his hand. "On one condition" I said. He cocked his fat head and his chins wobbled. "What's that, my dear boy?" "That you give me some of that coffee to take home"

In the beginning, everything went along pretty normally. The store practically ran itself. And I was more than content--I was happy. The first time I noticed something different was after my initial lunch with the guys. The next few days, I was ravenous. I ate from morning till night. And I craved the coffee with the secret ingredient introduced to my by Bernie. One morning, about a week after I had started working, I rolled out of bed and began getting ready for work. Sleepily I showered, shaved, and stumbled into my clothing. I stepped into my dress slacks and pulled them to my waist. They wouldn't close. With my swimmer's lifestyle, I had been a perfect size 32 for years. I never had to worry about putting on weight. I went to the scale in the bathroom and stepped on. Since I had begun working at the store, I had put on ten pounds! "Not acceptable." I thought to myself. I sucked in my stomach, fastened my pants and made a mental note to go to the gym more often and most importantly--to cut out lunching with the guys. But somehow neither thing seemed to happen--I was constantly working until after the gym closed. And not going to lunch with the Bernie and the gang became as unthinkable as not having cup after cup of the delicious mysterious coffee. I began to have strange dreams: I would dream I was in the middle of Africa in the bush country, taking pictures of wildlife, when the earth would begin to shake. Suddenly an enormous Bull Elephant the size of a building would come crashing through the tall grasses and block the sun. I was terrified until it would dawn on me that I was the Elephant! Then, understanding my power, I began breaking down trees, even mountains--growing more enormous with each new conquest. After one of these dreams, I would always wake in a sweat, run to the kitchen, and raid the refrigerator--absent-mindedly eating until I was sleepy.

After about three months of this, I could no longer hide the results. I tried to wear my size 32 pants until they had all systematically exploded off of my frame. My suit jackets had begun cutting off the circulation in my arms, and my old shirts were laughable on my new frame. Between the daily lunches, midnight binges, and very little gym time, I had gone from 180lbs, to 230. My pants size had gone from the perpetual 32 to a 42.

One night, about a week before my 30th birthday, I tiptoed into the bathroom when I thought Sean was sleeping. I took off my clothes and stepped in front of the full-length mirror. My face was so round! I was beginning to develop a pronounced double chin. My thighs and ass were full and big, and my stomach was beginning to grow into this ball of soft flesh. And my tits! I remembered my high school gym teacher teasing Jeffrey Lowell and Scott Taylor: two fat kids in my class. He used to call their soft round mammaries "man-tits", kidding them about having bigger ones than most of the girls, (which was true). I used to find those two guys fascinating: the way they lumbered onto the field for class, the way they looked in the showers. I knew I was gay back then, but it was something more than that. And here I was with my own set of "man-tits". I touched the right nipple, and then the left--crossing my arms and inadvertently giving myself cleavage. Electricity shot through my entire body. My nipples had become so sensitive! Caught in my exploration, it took me a moment to realize that my lover Sean was standing behind me. He had come in to use the toilet and noticed me in the mirror. "You're fat," he said as he sleepily relieved himself, kissed me on my chubby cheek and padded back to bed. He was right. I WAS fat. But looking in the mirror, I wasn't sure that was a bad thing. I touched my nipples again and headed for the kitchen.

The next day at work, Bernie and the guys threw me a birthday party and presented me with two gifts. The first was a container of the special ingredient for my coffee, and the next was a new suit from the store. It was the first size that we carried for big men. I was still a size or two away from needing to shop at Bernie's and had decided to keep it that way. "No offense guys...", I said, "...but I plan on never wearing clothes from our store!" "Well we can always get it taken in." Bernie quickly replied. "We just wanted to show you how glad we are that you're here. Now cut the cake and have some coffee!" I declined the cake, but I had 3 cups of coffee. That evening determined to change my eating habits for my 30th year on this planet, I took off early and headed for the gym. On the way, I passed restaurant after restaurant, fast food joint after fast food joint. I kept thinking to myself, "You've got to lose weight." Yet every time I would ask myself "Why?" I couldn't come up with a good enough answer. Until I thought of Sean's comment in the bathroom: "You're fat!" "You could lose him", I thought. I steadied myself and pointed the car in the direction of the gym. When suddenly, a little voice spoke to me: "But if you go to the gym right now, you could lose YOU." Suddenly I was starving. I turned into a Kentucky Fried Chicken, ordered a 20-piece bucket, and ate the whole thing in the car.

When I got home, Sean had prepared a huge meal of pasta, fresh bread and salad. Even after my trek to the Colonel's, I wolfed down plate after plate. Sean announced that he had news--good and bad. The good news was that he had landed a choice modeling assignment with a top agency. The bad news was that the agency was out of the country and he would be gone for at least 5 months! I felt like I was going to die. I wanted to scream, "It's me isn't it? I'll lose the weight! Don't go!" But instead, I stuffed some more food in my mouth and hugged him tightly. I loved him too much to stand in his way. And if he found someone else with a swimmer's build who made him happy...so be it. Sean had to leave the day before my birthday. As he hugged me before he boarded the plane, he whispered, "See you later fat boy", in my ear and walked away. And I knew I'd never see him again. When I got home, I pulled out the suit Bernie and the guys had given me and put it on. I looked like a kid playing dress up. Even though I was working on a size 44 waist, the pants had to be at least a 46. I thought of Sean and suddenly felt free. I sat down with a mixing bowl of Captain Crunch and heavy cream and imagined myself filling out the pants.

What happened next is all a blur. Knowing that I had lost Sean, I poured myself into my work and my food. Both satisfied me intensely. The store was doing great business. It seemed that the more I ate, the more productive I became. I was growing daily. Every time I turned around, a button would pop or a zipper would break. I began to carry around safety pins to keep my clothes up--it became a running joke around the store. The guys who used to seem enormous to me suddenly began to look average. I became the star at the Blue Whale. The waiters would line up to be my encourager and with Sean gone, I used their attention to help me forget about Sean. Bernie, who was no slouch at the dinner table, would watch me in amazement as I polished off plate after plate of entrée after entrée with all the trimmings, the servers massaging my distended belly and cooing at my appetite. Then go to work on the dessert cart. I stood in the mirror more often now. I was officially fat by anyone's standards. My face was so round that sometimes I wouldn't recognize myself. Because I was constantly lifting heavy boxes, my arms were huge and firm, as was my chest. But my stomach became my favorite area. I would hang out at the bar around the corner from my apartment and drink beer after beer to the amazement of all the guys. I started wearing suspenders because no pants it seemed would hold my ever growing gut.

In the first month after Sean left, I put on 35 lbs. I tipped the scales at around 265. From then on, not a waking (or sleeping) moment went by that I didn't eat something. I even took food breaks in the store. Bernie was right about the suit I was given for my birthday--I DID have to have it altered...eventually it had to be let out--twice! Sean would call and we would have stilted conversations. He would ask me if I was still gaining weight, and I would avoid talking about it. He would tell me he loved me, but I knew it was just talk. The company had extended his contract--he didn't know when he'd be back. Every now and then, I would get a postcard from some exotic place saying, "Having a Wonderful Time, Wish You Were Here". But I was too busy to notice. I was becoming the Elephant of my dream. I could feel my power.

In the next few months, I surpassed all store sales records, and there was big talk of a promotion to store manager. Except for the prospect of leaving this location, I couldn't have been happier. At least, when I wasn't thinking about Sean. The 5 months had quickly become 8 and then 10. In that time, my physical gain had become as impressive as my professional one. In the year since I had begun working at Bernie's, I had gone from 180 to 380 lbs. My waist had gone from a 32 to a 62. I was beginning to make earthquakes of my own.

One night I awakened from a dream (in which my stomach broke through the walls of the Empire State Building) by a voice in the darkness. "My God! You're huge!" it was Sean's voice. He was standing over the bed. He sounded different somehow. My first instinct was to grab him with my big arms and engulf him in my newfound mountain of flesh and warmth. But anger quickly welled up inside of me and I sat up in bed--the third empty large pizza box falling off of my stomach. "Yes I am." I said proudly, "You got something to say about it?" "Yes..." he said-I could hear the smile in his voice as he moved closer. "We are going to need a bigger bed." And with that, he turned on the light. My mouth dropped. When Sean left, he had been a 6 foot 1 inch, 170 lb. cover boy: now standing before me was a 6 foot 1 inch, 285 lb. (he told me later) gorgeous Buddha. His round face now covered with a lush beard. It was obvious that he was gaining weight faster than he could buy clothes to fit him: the T-shirt he was wearing wouldn't fit over the big round belly protruding over his tight size 48 jeans. "How?!...Why?" I stammered. "By eating dummy!" he laughed. "And I have a feeling that the delicious stuff I borrowed from you to put in my coffee helped". "But I thought you didn't like me fat!" I was almost crying now. Sean sat on the edge of the bed--which groaned under the over 600 pounds of us. I could see how horny he was as his great stomach heaved. "You never asked. You just assumed I wouldn't want a fat lover. I loved watching you pig out. I'd come in the bedroom after you'd gorge and jack off. Didn't you notice how intense our love-making got after you started putting on weight?" "I thought you were over-compensating because you loved me." I said. "Of course I love you Danny, but not in spite of how much you weigh-your size turns me on! I want you as big as a house!", was his breathless reply as he kissed me full on the lips. "And I hope you're ready for me to join you." He took off his shirt to reveal burgeoning man-tits and the most beautiful belly I had ever seen. He straddled me, opened my robe and began exploring my under-belly, kissing it and licking lower and lower. I felt hungry and horny at the same time as I pulled him to my crotch. We broke the bed that night.

T hat was three years ago. When I waddled into work the next day, I was beaming. Sean and I made love all night, and then spent the entire morning eating the breakfast to end all breakfasts. During which, he told me of his adventures in Europe. He spent the first few months pining over me-not eating, not sleeping. Once he began drinking the coffee, his appetite returned and he immediately found solace in food and proceeded to eat himself out of his misery. Of course this began to show on his waistline, and after a month, he was let go from his modeling contract. As luck would have it, a photographer on the shoot also worked with a new European catalogue designed for big men. He introduced Sean to the head of the company and the rest was history. Sean spent the remainder of the tour eating and posing in the finest cities of the Old World. He really had a wonderful time and wished desperately that I had been there. We decided to get married and spend our honeymoon eating our way through all of the spots he had discovered in his travels.

When Bernie saw me, he sensed the change immediately. "My boy, either you had sex last evening, or discovered that Little Debbie delivers-which was it?" We were in his office, munching on crullers. We had positioned ourselves so as to be able to reach the refrigerator and standing pantry without moving: we had become so large that it was impossible for the two of us to move around. "Both" I laughed. I told him of Sean's return, and of his amazing transformation. I told him that my life was complete: I had a job I loved, and a partner whom I adored. Bernie smiled, and in it, I thought I caught a hint of bittersweet sadness. "Well then," he said. "…my job is done." And he immediately began opening drawers, removing papers and stuffing them in a nearby briefcase. Stunned, I spattered out "What are you doing?"- crumbs spewing across my white shirt. Bernie smiled, and calmly explained. "I am a business man my dear. I have many other BB&T locations to check on. Joe, the man you met at the unemployment office, is my lover. He's already gone off to our store in Portland, and now I can join him. We needed to find a manager for this store that we could depend on and trust to carry on my traditions. We found him." He reached over and patted my stomach, which was wedged against his desk. "But…but…" I searched for words. How could I tell this man that he had become my mentor, my father-my friend! I blurted out the first thing that came into my mind. "But where will I get more of Bernie's Secret Mix for my coffee?" Bernie laughed "make it yourself darling-I told you, it's just cinnamon and vanilla." I stared at him blankly. "But what about the secret ingredient? The stuff that makes us so ravenous?" Bernie chortled "The secret ingredient my boy, is you."

I looked down at myself. At 400 lbs., my 4X dress shirt was already gapping in the front around my stomach. People moved out of my way when they saw me coming because of my size. My whole world had become food-I expressed myself in how much I indulged. Was Bernie saying that this had been my destiny all along. I thought back to High School-to Jeffrey Lowell and Scott Taylor-to the big men who would intrigue me when I was with my friends. I realized, not only did I want to HAVE them, I wanted to BE them. And now I was. I guess he was right: it was in me all the time.

So now I run Bernie's Big & Tall Store #836. We consistently bring in the highest revenues of any in the chain. We also have the fattest staff. I've had my offices expanded to include a full kitchen, and have hired my favorite chef and waiters from the Blue Whale to prepare in house meals for my staff. I surpassed Bernie's weight about a year ago, and am so fat that I had to install a freight elevator to get to the second floor, because the steps are impossible for me to maneuver. I am fast approaching Guinness Book proportions. As for Sean-he now models for Bernie's catalogue. He quickly outgrew the standard sizes, and a new super-size line was developed. Sean also recruits new employees for the store. He now tips the scale at over 500lbs., and is the most beautiful roly-poly thing I've ever seen. So you see, dreams come true in the strangest places. Who would have ever thought that I would find my life's calling in an unemployment line? Now if you'll excuse me, I'm about to interview a potential salesman that Sean found, and I have to brew some coffee.

By the way…are YOU looking for work?

The End.

#CCstories #f #fatbrwncub

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