#the last time you’ll ever see hope in his eyes | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

feeder86 · 20 hours

Text

Blame Game

Aiden raced down the stairs the moment he heard Katy’s car pulling up on the driveway. Now that she was living so far away, he hadn’t seen her since his high school graduation at the start of the summer. But as much as he loved his sister, there was one thing he hoped for more than anything else: that she had brought her sexy boyfriend Gaz with her.

Squeals of delight sounded from Aiden’s mother as she opened the door and embraced the daughter who ran into her arms. Aiden could already tell that his hopes had been realised as he spotted his father standing beside her, his hands on his hips, staring defensively over her shoulder at the boyfriend who must have been trotting along behind.

Racing towards him, Katy wrapped Aiden in a big hug, telling him how excited she was that he was off to college that weekend, and that they simply had to come down and see him before he left. Adien smiled, but watched keenly towards the threshold of the door as the shadow of an unseen man stepped ever closer towards it. Then, darkening the hallway as his giant frame filled the doorway, Gaz stepped into view. The sight of him made Liam’s breath catch in his chest. The guy was even fatter than he had been the last time he’d seen him!

“Congratulations on getting into our old college,” Gaz smiled, heading over to Aiden and shaking his hand. The heat emanating from his giant, sweaty palms was unreal. The man was an enormous furnace, fuelled by an obvious abundance of excess calories. His kind eyes smiled behind even puffier cheeks, and Aiden noted with interest just how swollen with fat the man’s neck had now become. “I know you’ll have just as much fun there as we did,” he nodded towards Katy.

“Thanks,” Aiden mumbled, trying to suppress his immediate arousal. Behind Gaz’s back, he could see his father shaking his head in disapproval, obviously noticing, just like the rest of them, how much heavier Gaz was looking after the summer.

Katy took her large boyfriend’s hand and led him down towards the kitchen, just as she had the first time she had brought him home during her first summer from college. Back then, they’d all thought how well Katy had done for herself, bagging such an athlete on a football scholarship. Gaz had been tall and broad, muscular and handsome. Their father had taken to him right away, even hosting a large barbecue for all the neighbors before he left. Finally, he had another real man around the house to discuss all the things he loved: cars, beer and football; topics that both Katy and Aiden always had very little interest in. It was only a year or so after that when his opinion started to change. Gaz’s athletic frame had bloated up by the following summer as he stacked on weight to play a different position on the field. Aiden remembered the playful jibes his father made about Gaz’s rounded stomach, assuming, just like the rest of them, that it was merely a temporary issue whilst Gaz trained himself up. However, as the holidays came around, Gaz returned only looking fatter again. By the spring, he’d been dropped from football altogether, settling into a cozy, lazy lifestyle that Aiden’s father just could not tolerate from a man who claimed to love his daughter so much.

It had been a whole year since the pair of them graduated now. Katy had always been a high-flyer and easily strolled into a high paying position at a law firm in the city. They rented a nice place by the river and Gaz had found himself a quiet little job in a retro video game store not too far away; a job that their father described as having ‘no prospects whatsoever.’

As Aiden walked behind them on the way to the kitchen, he could see exactly why his dad was silently fuming. Gaz had never looked wider. Despite his great height, his once muscular glutes had swollen like giant balls of beautiful blubber. His hips had pushed outwards and his thick, lard-filled thighs were even starting to make him walk a little differently. Gaz’s t-shirt was loose, but clung unflatteringly to his great love handles, creasing into the delicious folds of fat on his back. His once great, muscular shoulders were now coated with blubber, swelling under his armpits and bloating the tops of his arms. Even the back of his head was compromised by a large fat roll that could be easily seen with his short, well groomed haircut. What he weighed these days, Aiden could only imagine. Judging by how fat he was looking today, how tall and built he had been in the past, he had to be heading towards 450lbs, easily.

Katy was a talker. She always had been. Over dinner, she didn’t take a breath as she explained everything that she had been up to in work and their life in the city. Aiden could tell that their father wasn’t really listening and, if he was honest, neither was he. They were both transfixed by watching Gaz loading up his plate again and again; his greedy little eyes surveying what was still on offer as he poured the gravy all over his second, third and fourth helping.

“And what about you, Gaz?” their father asked next. “Any update on getting a better job?”

Gaz nodded and swallowed everything in his mouth, keeping them all waiting. “Yes. The video game store owner lets me open up by myself in the morning now,” he smiled. “I’ve got my own set of keys and everything,” he beamed.

Their mother smiled half-heartedly back.

“But you’ve not found anything better paid?” their dad pressed on. “After all those years in college. It would be a shame to waste it working in a video game store, wouldn't it.”

Gaz shrugged. “I don’t need to worry about that. Katy earns more than enough money for the both of us,” he explained, reaching out to load more potatoes on his plate despite the fact that everyone else had long since finished eating.

Aiden braced himself for his father to bite. Gaz’s complacency and willingness to sit back and let Katy run around after him made him more angry than pretty much anything else. But, the man resisted; contenting himself with a look of frustration towards his wife instead.

“Actually…” Katy smiled next. “We’ve got some big news!” She tapped Gaz on his shoulder for him to stop eating for a second. Then she peered around at them all, enjoying the anticipation. “WE’RE GETTING MARRIED!”

Obligingly, their mother rose to her feet and squeaked in delight. Aiden followed and shook Gaz’s hand before reaching in for a hug with his sister. Only their father remained sitting, as if struggling to take the news in. Luckily, the engaged couple had merely assumed that he was simply overwhelmed as they joked and teased him about having to walk Katy up the aisle and make a speech when the time came. Aiden had never seen his father so completely lost for words.

“What the hell is Katy playing at?” their dad grumbled an hour later, looking across the lounge at the fat lump who was soon to become his son-in-law. As usually happened when Gaz came over, he’d insisted on putting the sports on TV and then drifted off to sleep as his body digested the incredible amount of food he had just gorged himself on. “Why is she saddling herself with a liability like this?”

“Shh!” Katy will hear you, his wife whispered.

“Well, honestly. Someone needs to tell her. Look at the belly on him! Twenty three years old and look at it! He can’t drive, has no career prospects and is just content to slob about like this. And after all the opportunities he’s had. He should be ashamed of himself!”

“Katy loves him and that’s all that matters,” their mother hissed at him. “Isn’t that right, Aiden?” she asked, knowing that she could always rely on her son to back her up when their father was in this mood.

“Come on, dad! It’s not the end of the world. You used to really like Gaz. You even preferred him to me at one point!” he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Tell me one man who would be happy for his daughter to marry THAT!” he pointed rudely at the bloated and squishy former athlete.

“Aw! Is he asleep again?” Katy cooed as she returned from the bathroom seconds later. “He does this at home, He eats his dinner and then… straight to sleep on the couch!” she chuckled admiring the large, lard-filled man who was filling her parents’ lounge. “He must feel very relaxed here,” she smiled at her father.

“Katy, if you’ve got a second, would you be able to help me check I’ve got everything I need for college?” Aiden asked his sister, keen to get her out of the lounge in case their father began to speak his mind. “It’s all upstairs in my room.”

Katy obliged and followed him upstairs, taking a peek in all the rooms she used to know so well and noticing the many subtle changes since she had moved out. “So, tell me…” she smirked, “...how pissed is dad about us getting engaged?”

“Pretty fucking pissed!” Aiden smirked back.

At this, Katy simply threw her head back and laughed. “If he thinks he’s annoyed about it, he should have a word with Gaz’s parents. They’re absolutely livid!” she grinned.

“Why would they not be happy?” Aiden asked in surprise. His sister was the perfect catch: smart, outgoing, attractive; highly successful.

“Oh, come on!” Katy sighed, rolling her eyes dramatically. “You’re old enough to realise that Gaz’s weight gain hasn’t exactly been by accident.” She reached out and tapped her younger brother on his head, as if listening for an echo in the void where his brain should have been. “Wake up and start paying more attention! Are you sure you’re the one who got all those amazing grades?” she joked.

“You encouraged him?” Aiden asked innocently.

“To put it mildly!” Katy nodded. “His mom hates me with a passion. She says her boy was heading for a professional football career before I came along.”

“And was he?” Aiden asked. He’d been somewhat younger back then and only mildly interested in his sister’s lovelife.

“I guess she’ll never know,” Katy chuckled wickedly, with the same ruthlessness which had seen her promoted twice since starting at her new firm last year. “Oh, don’t give me that look!” she remarked to her brother. “Gaz loves it! He’s a horny little pig. You don’t need to worry about him,” she stated dismissively. “Besides, I’ve seen the way your tongue falls out every time you see him. You love it just as much as I do.”

Aiden felt his face flushing with embarrassment.

“You’re lucky to have me. Most big sisters would be so annoyed if their little brother had a crush on their fiance,” she teased him. “I’m just proud you’ve got good taste.”

Aiden knew there was no point in trying to deny anything. His sister had always been a step ahead of him in all walks of life. “Does Gaz know too?” he asked, hoping more than anything else that his sister would spare him further embarrassment.

“Of course he does!” Katy laughed. “You weren’t exactly subtle at the pool party last summer.”

Just as any big sister would, Katy enjoyed seeing her little brother squirm for a few moments, rubbing his face into his hands and wanting the ground to swallow him up.

“It’s okay,” she finally relented. “Gaz loves the attention you give him. I know he was eating especially well at dinner for your benefit, as well as mine. He pushed so hard he’s now missing the game he’s been talking about all week, trying to sleep it off. Serves him right, really!”

Aiden couldn’t deny that he had long suspected his sister of getting some sort of kick out of watching Gaz get so fat. However, the extent to which they were both finding pleasure from it all had genuinely shocked him. “But, how did you guys find each other?” he asked, wondering just how his sister had dropped so lucky.

“I know exactly why you’re asking,” Katy laughed, nodding with pride. “Don’t worry, little bro. You’re prettier than most girls, and college is crawling with boys just waiting to pile on the pounds! Either by accident, or with a little push,” she winked, before looking around at the piles of stuff, all packed and ready for college. “You’re about to have the time of your life!”

A couple of weeks later, Aiden was getting well used to his new life in the dorms. He had a room all to himself and a good group of friends around him; new study buddies, people to go on nights out with, as well as quieter friends to go on walks with. His sister had been right, his pretty face was definitely getting him noticed. Unlike the highly competitive, defensive and hostile relationships of high school, the college campus felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Truth, or Dare?” demanded Jackson, the guy in the room opposite his, as the bottle spun and pointed directly at Aiden, requiring him to take another shot of tequila.

The crowd of people crammed into Aiden’s room gave a low rumble of interest. “Truth,” Aiden smiled, knowing that the truths shared had been the most interesting that evening.

Jackson grinned and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, having appointed himself leader of this game. “Okay then!” he smirked. “Tell us, who is your biggest crush!”

The others cheered with interest and looked over at Aiden. Absolutely everyone had been hooking up in the last week. Sex mania had taken over the campus.

Aiden looked up at Jackson, the one who had asked the question, knowing exactly why he had selected that line of enquiry. Jackson, the resident football hunk on this dorm, had practically every girl swooning after him; the guy’s head was swelling by the day with all the women who were throwing themselves at him. And, ever since he had discovered that Aiden was gay, Jackson seemed determined to add the pretty boy to his list of admirers; shamelessly flirting with him, despite having no real interest whatsoever.

“Actually,” Aiden nodded. “That’s something I’ve never told anyone before,” he teased, drawing the crowd in and entertaining them. “And if I tell you all, it could get me in A LOT of trouble!”

“Is he straight?” asked one of them excitedly.

Aiden nodded. “I’m so bad. There’s no way I should be telling any of you this!” he continued to taunt them, enjoying the attention.

“Who is it?” a girl finally squeaked in drunken delight.

Aiden looked around one last time, then up to Jackson himself, right before he crushed the guy’s ego trip. “My sister’s finance,” he finally announced. “She’d never forgive me if she knew,” he lied, “but I am so fucking hot for that guy!”

The crowd delighted in the gossip and chuckled at the awkward situation Aiden found himself in. Then the bottle moved on and the drinks flowed once more.

“We’ll have to come and visit you one weekend,” Katy smiled, as she relaxed with her brother that Thanksgiving. “Gaz and I would love to revisit some of the old places we used to go when we first got together,” she nodded over to her giant fiance, engrossed in the football match on the TV.

“Sure, I’d love to have you both over,” Aiden nodded, feeling excited by the idea.

“How’re things going with your love life?” Katy asked next, taking advantage of the fact that their parents were out of the room. “Are you having fun tasting the giant buffet of fatties the campus has to offer?”

Aiden looked to Gaz in a panic, until he realised that the guy wasn’t listening in on their conversation at all. He was well used to his sister asking quite personal questions, but he wasn’t sure he wanted Gaz to overhear it as well. “A couple,” he shrugged, lowering his voice just in case. “I don’t know… it’s not quite as exciting as I thought it would be. Most of the guys I show an interest in seem to hate their bodies. It’s such a turn off.”

Katy nodded in full agreement. “I’ve been there!” she laughed. “That’s why I hooked up with that kinky little bastard instead,” she nodded over to Gaz, mindlessly stuffing chips into his mouth as he watched the action.

“Grow your own?” Aiden joked.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Katy laughed back. “I mean, watch this,” she smirked, grabbing a small pastry from the tray in the middle of the table and throwing it towards Gaz; hitting him on his giant stomach.

Gaz looked at her with interest, finally taking his eyes off the screen. He noticed the pastry and popped it straight into his mouth.

“Who’s a good pig?” Katy teased him.

Gaz grinned, briefly looking at Aiden and recognising him as being one of their gang: the select few who had been informed of the true nature of his and Katy’s kinky relationship. He lifted his shirt a little and grabbed a wedge of his fat, giving it a good jiggle whilst looking Katy straight in the eye. Then he raised his head and oinked quietly: once, twice; checking that the parents were not around to hear.

Katy laughed and smiled proudly, but to Aiden it was one of the hottest things he had ever seen. “How do I make a guy do that for me?” he asked his sister.

Aiden was more desperate to learn than ever before.

Katy called from the car as she was parking up on the campus a couple of weeks after the holidays. Aiden went down to meet them just as Gaz was sliding his fat body out of the passenger seat. “It’s so weird to be back!” he laughed, brushing crumbs off his large t-shirt. It was so cold out, Gaz stuck out like a sore thumb, dressed in his sweatshorts. Perhaps that was the point.

Aiden could tell that the place was full of memories for the pair of them as they followed him to the dorm, pointing and commenting at the quiet little meeting spots and giggling with each other. He apologised about the stairs before Gaz had to begin climbing them to get up to Aiden’s room.

Reaching the top, Aiden turned and waited for his sister and Gaz to catch him up. Suddenly, his neighbor, Jackson, strolled out into the corridor, on his way out. He nodded courteously to Aiden and then spotted his sister; his jaw immediately dropping.

“Aiden, buddy!” he smiled. “Do you have some guests?” he suddenly asked, pulling out all of his charm as he saw how attractive Katy was.

Aiden rolled his eyes. Just like every other guy who met his sister, Jackson was clearly interested, and assumed, with staggering arrogance, that her enormous, blubbery fiance was no match for him. The guy had stopped and held out his hand to introduce himself as Aiden’s friend, then accompanied them back upstairs, inviting himself along on the tour; holding doors open for Katy and moving well out of the way before Gaz had to squeeze himself through them.

“Your little brother is super popular in the dorms,” Jackon explained as they went around. “Everyone knows what a good laugh he is,” he smiled.

Again, Aiden rolled his eyes at Jackson’s charm offensive. However, he bit his tongue, knowing that it was all going to be for nothing. Katy and Gaz spoke about some of the people they used to know who lived in the building and, a few minutes later, Jackson was shocked to learn that Gaz had once been part of the same football team that he played for now. He listed off the names of the trainers, barely comprehending that Gaz knew them all as well. “Why don’t you take Gaz on a little tour of the football facilities?” Aiden suggested next, spotting a way to off-load the opportunist. He smirked as Katy agreed what a good idea it was, waving them both off a short while afterwards.

“He’s cute!” Katy whispered, turning her head to get a look at Jackson’s tight butt as he walked just behind the monstrous beast that was her fiance. “And very eager to please!” she chuckled.

“I’m guessing this is the effect you have on most men?” Aiden joked. He knew his sister was pretty, but it was hard to comprehend just how much guys were into her until he witnessed them embarrassingly falling over themselves to try and get her attention.

During their time alone. Katy had discussed the wedding plans in great detail. Everything had been organised and every second of the event accounted for. Aiden would have a list of jobs to do, acting as the usher, and he could tell that Katy was going to hold him accountable for every last one of them.

The boys returned an hour later, laughing and joking as they headed into Aiden’s room. Gaz was pleased by his tour, having bumped into a few of the people he used to know.

“Listen, are you two staying over tonight?” he asked Gaz and Katy together. “You can have my room. I’ll bunk on the floor, in here with Aiden,” he offered kindly.

Aiden was surprised when Katy accepted. They had more than enough money for a hotel, and that had been their plan before heading down here. However, perhaps the kinkiness of one last night in the dorms was getting to them both.

“So that’s the soon-to-be brother in law you have a massive crush on?” Jackson immediately teased Aiden the moment they were alone in his bedroom with his temporary bed made up on the floor.

Aiden sighed, having forgotten that he had ever said that to everyone. Trust Jackson to remember.

“He’s not the obvious choice for a gay crush!” Jackson laughed. “And I’m guessing it’s not just his personality that you’re attracted to. You could hardly keep your eyes off his big gut. And nor could your sister, to be fair” he conceded; seemingly having finally worked out that he didn’t have a hope in seducing her.

“What can I say?” Aiden smirked, deciding his best defence was to own it. “My sister and I have interesting tastes in men.”

“I know what your sister did to him,” Jackson went on. “It took me a little while to piece it together, but the football coaches talk about Gaz all the time. I thought I recognised him the moment I saw him as well, from the pictures we have up by the changing rooms.”

“What do they say?” Aiden asked, surprised. Had Gaz been the true reason why they hadn’t been able to shake Jackson off all afternoon?

“They tell us it’s important to keep focused and not get distracted by girls. They talk about Gaz as a cautionary tale: Gavin Knox, their star athlete who lost every opportunity he had by getting lazy and fat after falling for a girl who liked to overfeed him.”

“They really say that?” Aiden chuckled, feeling oddly proud.

“Oh yeah!” Jackson nodded. “The pair of them are fairly infamous amongst the trainers here. Gone, but definitely not forgotten.”

Aiden nodded. “I’m sure Katy will be delighted when I tell her.”

Jackson pulled off his shirt and lay down on the blow up mattress on the floor. “You know, if you’re still hung up on your sister’s boyfriend, I have a good way to keep you distracted,” he smiled suggestively.

Aiden looked down from his bed. “Oh, really?” he asked, surprised that the football jock was taking his flirtation this far.

“Come on,” he winked, clearly adjusting his erection underneath the bed sheets. You’re horny. I’m horny. You’re hot… I’m super hot!” he grinned. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Aiden considered his options. He was in no way against casual sex, but being just another one of Jackson’s conquests was not something he wanted for himself. He couldn’t be yet another person who had fed into that ego by submitting himself to the football jock. He reached into his drawer and threw a pack of tissues down at him. “Go ahead. Knock yourself out!” he teased, leaning on his side, as if ready to enjoy a spectacle.

Jackson seemed surprised as he held the box of tissues in his hand and realised that was all he was getting. “Are you not joining me?” he asked.

“No. I’m not,” Jackson simply smiled back. “I’ll be watching.”

Clearly a little embarrassed, Jackson slipped his hand down into his underwear and began gently tugging himself. The guy really was horny. Within a short while he was sighing and moaning gently with his eyes closed. He looked across briefly to see if Aiden was still watching him. He was; smiling in amusement. The guy closed his eyes again, but couldn’t help looking across once more, now glancing up and holding Aiden’s stare for the last twenty seconds or so. He came, quite powerfully by the sounds of things, still having to suffer Aiden’s watchful eye as he cleaned himself up with the tissues.

The next morning, Jackson was more charming than ever with Katy and Gaz. He’d left Aiden’s room early to head to the gym but had returned just as everyone was up and chatting in the kitchen area. They thanked him for letting them use his room and Jackson even drove Gaz to a bar where they could watch the football game whilst Aiden was subjected to more of Katy’s wedding preparations; driving from store to store in his sister’s swanky new company car.

“Thanks for your help this weekend,” Aiden smiled sincerely at Jackson, as Katy and Gaz drove off at last that evening. “I’m sorry if we took up so much of your time.”

“I enjoyed myself,” Jackson shrugged. “They’re a fun couple and Gaz really knows his stuff when it comes to playing football.”

“Did he give you some good tips?” Aiden laughed, finding it difficult to imagine Gaz in any sort of sporting context these days.

“He gave me some good advice, yeah,” Jackson nodded. “But the weekend isn’t over quite yet. So… maybe I don’t have to go back to my own room…” he teased.

Aiden enjoyed the power he seemed to have inherited. In not giving into the handsome boy, he’d somehow ensured that the guy had never wanted him more. “Goodnight, Jackson,” he laughed, striding back up to his dorm room, alone.

As the day finally came, Gaz and Katy’s wedding had been one that none of them would ever forget. Katy had been the ultimate bridezilla from the moment she woke up that morning. But as the ceremony ended and everyone settled into the meal and speeches, the tone had at last started to relax.

Gaz had clearly been on some super fattening diet for the last couple of weeks, given how enormous his face had become. It was more than obvious that Katy had been the one to choose the fit of his suit. Gaz had never looked so irresistibly spherical in his entire life. Their father had done a passable job at a congratulations speech, officially welcoming Gaz into their family, whether he really wanted him or not. Likewise, Gaz;s best man had done an amazing speech that made everyone laugh. Katy had been delighted with the choice; toned, trim and muscular, the guy was doing an incredible job of making Gaz look even fatter as he stood next to him in so many of the pictures.

“Jeez! Your sister’s new in-laws absolutely hate her!” whispered a deep, quiet voice behind Aiden as he took a brief moment on the balcony of the hotel bar for a quick breather from the wedding party.

“Jackson?” Aiden blasted in disbelief before he even turned around. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Gaz invited me when they were over a few weekends ago,” he smiled, holding up the invitation for the evening party. “I would have told you, but you’ve been avoiding me…” he teased. “However, may I just say… you look so fucking hot in that suit tonight,” he growled, moving in closer so that his hands were resting on Aiden’s hips.

“Still trying to collect me, huh?” Aiden smirked sceptically, looking down at the liberty Jackson was taking in touching him like this.

“You have to know how into you I am,” Jackson whispered, sliding his hands back onto Aiden’s butt and leaning in until their hot breath met. It was clear from the scent of beer on Jackson’s breath that he had been drinking a little to give him the courage to be so forward.

“I know,” Aiden whispered back, starting to enjoy this fumbling attempt at a seduction. But the temptation to torture him by refusing once more was still so tempting.

“I’ve been mad about you for months,” Jackson went on. “Then, when you made me climax, just by looking at me like that…”

Aiden chuckled at the memory of that evening and then a very gentle kiss ensued between the two of them.

“I’d do anything for you…” Jackson whispered afterwards, before heading in for a second round.

“Erm, Aiden?” interrupted his father, awkwardly stepping out onto the balcony. “Is there someone you want to introduce me to?” he asked in his typically intrusive manner.

Instinctively, Jackson pulled back and stood to attention, as if he was a new army recruit. “You’re Aiden and Katy’s father,” he stated clearly, holding out his large hand to shake. “It’s so nice to meet you, Sir.”

Aiden’s father took the hand and shook it firmly. “You’re a strong lad,” he declared after a second. “Football, I’m guessing?”

“Yes, Sir,” Aiden nodded, eager to please.

“So, are you two… dating?” he asked next, looking curiously between the pair of them.

“No,” Aiden answered calmly, finding Jackson’s newfound respectful manner with his father to be one of the most hilarious spectacles he had seen all year.

“Not yet!” Jackson added optimistically. “But I’m pretty crazy about your son, Sir.”

“Enough!” sighed Aiden, taking Jackson’s hand and laughing as he led him away from his intrusive father and onto the dancefloor. Jackson wasn’t a natural dancer but he tried his best for Aiden, who made it seem so effortless. A little while afterwards, a sweaty, overfed Gaz headed over to greet the new arrival, hugging him like the pair of them had bonded more than Aiden realised during that weekend.

“I’m pleased you could make it,” Gaz smiled. His large, but very fitted shirt had come untucked, the buttons obviously straining now his tie had been taken off; his stomach bloated on too much food and beer. “I see you took my advice,” he chuckled, glancing back at Aiden like he had noticed how closely they had been dancing. “Listen, there’s a load of freshly cut wedding cake over there,” he continued explaining to the football jock, shouting loudly above the noise of the music. Then he tapped him on his tight, muscular glutes in the way that sports players always seemed so surprisingly comfortable doing.”Go pig-out.”

Gaz’s parents interrupted them, explaining that they were leaving already, despite the fact that it had only just turned eight. Then the drunk Gaz went in for a hug with both of them; with large pools of sweat on show under his armpits. The older couple merely waved at Aiden, having decided some time ago that he was cut from the same cloth as their loathsome new daughter-in-law.

Jackson took Aiden’s hand and led him over to where the cake had been cut and laid out. “Why’d they cut the slices so small?” he chuckled, picking up five of them and stacking them onto his plate to make a very decent wedge, which the jock soon began devouring.

“What was that about, with Gaz?” Aiden asked, having been surprised by the unlikely friendship between them both.

“We’ve just been messaging each other these last few weeks,” Jackson explained. “He’s very good at giving advice.”

“About what?” Aiden shot back.

But Jackson’s attention was elsewhere. “Jeez, they’re all off!” he commented, too busy noticing the queue of Gaz’s family lining up to say goodbye to him as they left early. “Not one of them has even acknowledged your sister yet,” he pointed, as they all slipped away; ignoring Katy as she was distracted, talking to her friends on another table.

Aiden chuckled. “Katy’s a big girl. She can take it!” he smirked.

“I must say,” Jackson smiled, picking up one of the many pictures of the couple dotted around the room. “These are a nice, antagonistic touch,” he joked, clearly referring to the fact that the photos of the newlyweds were all from at least four and a half years ago, when Gaz was still fit and athletic.

Aiden nodded and grinned. “My sister certainly has a very warped sense of humor!” he laughed. “You should have seen how blatantly she was feeding Gaz his dessert earlier.”

“Oh, don’t you worry. I heard all about that when I got here,” Jackson nodded. “Your sister certainly knows how to make an impression.” He put down his plate of cake crumbs and reached in to squeeze Aiden affectionately around his waist. “Gaz is a lucky man,” he whispered.

With a beer in his hand later that evening, Jackson sat back in a chair and pulled Aiden in so that the pretty boy could perch himself on his knee. He rested his large hand delicately on Aiden’s hip; his touch being the greatest of all his love languages.

Several family members came over to meet the strapping new man who was obviously so smitten with Aiden. Rather than trying to tear Aiden away to his hotel room for sex, Jackson appeared to just enjoy being there, lavishing gentle affection on the boy he had been quietly in love with for some time, and meeting everyone who was important in his life. It was all so intimate and sexy; a new experience for them both. When they did finally make it back to Aiden’s room, the gentle sex that followed was the most connected that either of them had ever felt to another person.

The next morning, Aiden awoke with the strapping young man gently spooning him from behind. Aiden wanted nothing more than to stay there in bed with him all day, but check-out was at eleven and Katy had already messaged him with a stack of chores, gathering up the bits and pieces from the wedding the night before and distributing them amongst the family to take with them in their cars.

“Katy, there’s no sign of the guest book,” Aiden explained, entering the honeymoon suite with his newfound personal assistant, Jackson. The muscular guy spotted a grotesquely obese Gaz sat up on the bed in only his underwear; fat bulging and spilling in every direction. He headed straight over to greet him, then sat in the chair, catching up on all of the football highlights on TV from the games they had both missed the night before.

“Don’t worry. Mom’s got that,” Katy stated.

Aiden breathed a sigh of relief. His final task had been taken care of. He looked around the room, seeing copious amounts of dirty plates and bowls from room service. “I can see you’ve been having some fun this morning,” he chuckled.

“I could say the same about you last night,” Katy smiled, nodding towards Jackson, still dressed in his suit from the night before.

Aiden smiled back. He didn’t really understand any of this himself and so he quickly changed the subject. “Where has this friendship suddenly come from?” he asked, pointing towards the two vastly contrasting boys, laughing and joking at what they were watching on TV.

Katy sighed and rolled her eyes. “I know!” she chuckled. “They’ve been messaging like crazy. Boring boy stuff mostly. Lots about you, of course. And about Jackson wanting to quit football.”

“He wants to quit football?” Aiden asked. “Since when?”

Katy shrugged with mild disinterest. “I guess you need to talk to Jackson.” She sighed, quickly losing interest in him, like only a sister could. “Anyway,” she declared, throwing her hands out like it was time to disperse. “Off you go! We need our alone time.”

Aiden bit his tongue; resisting the urge to explain just how much he had been running after her all morning. “Come on, Jackson,” he called. “We’d better go check out anyway.” He could see that the pair of them were quite engrossed in their conversation. However, their discussion paused the moment that Aiden stood, waiting for him.

“Give me a call if you manage to get tickets,” Jackson nodded to his friend, fist pumping as they parted.

“Just send me a message anytime you need to chat,” Gaz offered kindly as Katy ushered them both out.

“So, you guys are like, best friends now?” Aiden asked suspiciously as he and Jackson headed down in the elevator after grabbing Aiden’s bags from his room. He couldn’t quite understand the quiet little jealousy that he felt. Despite crushing on Gaz for years, he’d never managed to connect with him in the way that Jackson seemed to be able to do so effortlessly. Gaz was a typical man’s man, preferring the company of other sports and beer loving guys whenever he wasn’t being fattened by his wife.

“He’s a great guy,” Jackson shrugged, turning into Aiden to kiss him; not wanting to waste a single private moment together. “Gaz and I have got a lot in common,” he smiled as the elevator doors opened once more and they were both thrown into the busy lobby area. “I’ll catch you back on the campus later,” he smiled, pulling his car keys out of his pocket and leaning in for a final kiss; leaving Aiden with more questions than answers.

After being dragged out to lunch with his aunts before they headed off to the airport and home, Aiden arrived back on the campus late and went straight to bed. He woke up the next morning with his alarm screaming at him, then raced down the campus to his first class of the day. But, by the time he made it back to the dorm, he was greeted by several people all standing around, gossiping.

“Did you hear? The whole campus is up in arms about it. Jackson quit the football team!”

Aiden’s jaw dropped, kicking himself that he hadn’t asked Jackson about this the moment he heard that the athlete was considering quitting. “But, why? He’s the star player!” he shot back.

Jackson strolled into the kitchen looking very pleased with himself a little later on. He’d clearly had people asking him all day about why he had made such a drastic decision.

“What about your scholarship?” blasted one person, after Jackson had stated assertively to them all that his mind was made up.

“Already taken care of,” Jackson replied calmly. He spotted Aiden in the corner and smiled. “Hello,” he mouthed; his eyes dancing with delight. “Want to go for a walk?”

Aiden looked around at the confused faces, then stepped forwards and took Jackson’s hand, registering the gasps of surprise as the pair of them walked away. He’d never felt butterflies in his stomach like this before and hadn’t ever imagined that he would feel so overwhelmed by the idea of dating someone like Jackson.

“So, I’m guessing there is more to this than meets the eye?” Aiden finally asked, as the pair of them side-stepped another bunch of people further down the corridor and sought refuge in Aiden’s room.

“Not really,” Jackson smiled, kissing his boy. “I’ve wanted this for a long time. I’ve just never been able to express it until I met you. And I don’t want to go through what Gaz went through, getting fat and still keeping up the pretence of being an athlete; training and playing games.”

“Hold up!” Aiden shrieked. “Getting fat?”

“Of course,” Jackson nodded. “I’ve wanted it for as long as I can remember. I just thought I was some sort of freak, until I talked it over with Gaz that weekend.” He removed his shirt and threw it on the floor. “This isn’t who I am,” he pointed at his chiselled stomach, grabbing at the skin where no fat hit underneath it. “I’m not supposed to be this way. I’ve just been pushed along by other people, simply because I had a little bit of talent growing up.”

Jackson turned and walked to gaze at his reflection in Aiden’s mirror. He flexed his stomach muscles and tensed his bicep. Aiden watched him from behind, already permitting himself to imagine those perky glutes starting to swell with fat.

“Gaz described it best to me,” Jackson continued, turning around to face Aiden. “It’s just this longing inside you… this desire to be a great big fat pig!”

Aiden could see the arousal in Jackson’s gym shorts as he was saying these things, and he felt utterly speechless at the revelations about the boy he had spent months being so apathetic about. “You know who’s going to get all the blame for you quitting football,” he sighed, realising that he was about to become a lot less popular around campus.

“It had to be done. I need to commit,” Jackson smiled. “I talked it through for ages with Gaz. Not quitting football right away was the only thing he regretted.”

“Then, when you start getting chubby… when the love handles start to form and your tight little butt swells out… who do you think they will all be pointing the finger at?” he asked, trying to hold back a smile.

Jackson moaned and reached in to pull Aiden closer to him. “Oh, fuck! That’s so hot!” he whispered. “They’ll say you turned me into a pig!”

“And they’d be right,” Aiden nodded in complete agreement, allowing himself to get swept up in the horny jock’s kisses. Was this it? Was he really about to embark upon his ultimate fantasy? “I’ll have you oinking in no time!”

With that, Jackson slipped off his shorts and pants in one fast movement, pulling Aiden down onto the bed, making love even more passionately than last time.

“Come on, get it all down!” Aiden insisted a few days later as Jackson tried to complete the enormous, thick shake that his boyfriend had made for him. It wasn’t the best recipe and was far too sweet, but they were still both learning.

Jackson swallowed some more and then stopped, wincing at the taste. There was still at least one third to go and the immense amount of effort it was going to take was etched all over his handsome face. He burped up some gas and groaned a little, rubbing his tight middle even though his stomach muscles still pushed through under the skin. “It’s just so… thick,” the naked boy mumbled. Despite the effort, his hardness was still pushing up to the ceiling of Aiden’s bedroom. Ever since Jackson had committed to this, his erection had hardly left him.

“You want to be a big fat pig though, don’t you?” Aiden teased, grabbing onto Jackson’s boner and massaging it up and down so that the horny boy’s eyes rolled back into his head. He moaned, then threw his head back and continued to swallow until the thick, gloopy shake was all gone.

Jackson rubbed his painfully stretched stomach, now completely packed with absolutely everything they had bought that evening. Even his breathing sounded laboured. “Fuck!” he grumbled. “I really hope that stuff gets rid of my six pack soon.”

Aiden laughed, knowing exactly what he’d blended together to make the fattening shake. “Trust me, if that can’t manage it, nothing will!”

Unlike Gaz, Jackson didn’t fall asleep after a stuffing. He found it difficult to ignore the stretch of the bloat and sat up in Aiden’s bed watching comedies, trying to distract himself as the abundance of calories set to work on transforming his body. Now that Jackson had been stripped of all the things Aiden had disliked about the boy: his ego, idiot jock buddies and womanising nature, Aiden could at last see the reasons why the football hunk had been so certain that they were perfect for each other. They shared the same sense of humor, had the same interests in music and movies; not forgetting that, sexually, they were more compatible than two people ever could be.

Jackson’s weight gain wasn’t especially noticeable at first. It began with a gentle softening of his immaculately toned body and grew from there. Within a few weeks, the boy’s stomach was decidedly bloated and thicker looking, whilst his face appeared ever so slightly fuller. Their friends had disapproved of how insular and boring they had both become, always electing to spend time alone together, rather than going out to the bars with them like they used to. Despite the several different calorie shakes Aiden whipped up quietly in the kitchen, they couldn’t see yet what was being done to Jackson; even into the small hours of the night.

Jackson was obsessed with his own body. He admired it constantly in the mirror as he started to carry a little extra weight on his sides. Aiden had never seen the guy’s dick get so hard than when he pinched and gently jiggled those first little, hard-earned pouches of fat.

“I think it’s time we showed this off, don’t you?” Aiden asked one morning as the late Spring sun poured in through his window. “The six pack has gone, the love handles are blossoming and your glutes are finally swelling up.”

Jackson looked across at him with a little shock. “You mean, go outside sunbathing? Without a shirt on?”

“I was thinking more of a picnic,” Aiden chuckled, ever the opportunist. “You could wear those old gym shorts that pinch your hips now.”

Despite having climaxed only a couple of minutes before, Jackson immediately became aroused again. Finally, after weeks and weeks of gorging, he was at last ready to be shown off.

A thin tire of fat slid around Jackson’s waist as he sat on the grass outside, eating the piles of sandwiches and pastries Aiden provided. He sipped on sodas and beers as people came up to them to chat; each one dutifully trying not to stare at the remarkable softening that had taken place upon Jackson’s physique. At one point, some of the boys came out and asked him to throw a ball around with them, which Jackson immediately refused, feeling too bloated and aroused to move and often having to reposition the picnic bag in front of his crotch.

“How long do you think it will be until I start getting my first comments about this weight gain?” Jackson asked his handsome lover, hidden behind his large sunglasses.

“A few more weeks,” Aiden stated after a short consideration. “Eat hard this summer and we can have a decent gut on you by the time we’re back on campus in the Fall. You can start the second year as a proper fatty.”

Aiden knew that Jackson appreciated straight talk. If he wasn’t eating enough, or if he was complaining too much about being full, he wanted to be told. But, likewise, he got off on the blunt way that Aiden would describe the future. What Jackson had embarked upon would alter everything in his life: his body, his appetite, his energy levels; not forgetting the ways in which people would perceive and approach him in future. A fat man’s experience was very different to the reverence that Jackson had received so far. He needed to be ready for it.

That summer, Jackson spent the entire time at Aiden’s parents’ place, seeing as it was so much quieter than his own family home. Aiden had a lot more privacy, utilising the compact apartment above the garage, practically moving in for the whole of the break from college.

“Here it comes,” Aiden’s dad grumbled as he looked out of the window and saw his daughter’s enormous new car pulling up on the drive. “Jeez! What the hell does he look like?” he continued, peering at the giant Gaz rocking his fat body to get out from the passenger seat. “Doesn’t he realise we can all see his belly falling out of that t-shirt?”

Jackson and Aiden gave each other a mischievous look. Despite the thicker appearance of Aiden’s new boyfriend, his father had yet to work out that he would soon be acquiring another very obese son-in-law in the future.

Gaz strolled through the front yard, casting a giant shadow through the window as he moved towards the front door. Many months had gone by since the wedding and extended honeymoon, with Katy’s new husband now looking significantly flabbier and softer as he trotted about with a slight waddle. Meanwhile, Katy looked, if anything, even younger and more attractive in her flashy designer clothes, funded by the remarkable pay she earned in her latest position at her company.

After dinner, all four of them retreated to the garage apartment where they could speak more freely and joke about how Aiden and Katy’s father had been eyeing his fat, greedy son-in-law the entire time during dinner; begrudging him every enormous mouthful he took. “He didn’t even notice that Jackson was eating just as much!” Katy laughed. “How much have you packed on so far?” she asked her brother’s boyfriend with interest.

“Forty pounds,” Jackson replied dutifully.

Katy looked at her husband and squinted her eyes, trying to recall when Gaz was first fattening up. “That sounds about right for this stage,” she nodded. “There’s a fair amount of muscle loss in those first few months, I remember.”

Aiden, who had spent much of his time bouncing and jiggling Jackson’s swollen glutes, nodded and laughed in full agreement.

“I’ve managed to find a place for you both to live next year. I have a few contacts in the city,” Katy went on. “I’ll cover the rent. It’s a complete steal anyway. Plus, it will give you guys more money to fund the gains.”

Aiden and Jackson gasped with surprise at her generosity: their own private apartment!

“It’s fine,” Katy smiled back. “It’s just the sort of thing I would have found most useful when I was in college, trying to fatten this piggy on a budget,” she laughed, caressing the rather extreme fat at the back of her husband’s neck. “And if you can keep those grades up from this first year,” she added sternly to Aiden, “I’ll have a position ready and waiting for you at my company. It’s all worked into my five-year plan,” she nodded in her typically efficient and organised manner.

Suddenly, with Katy’s help, the path towards the future looked so effortless and simple. Once the lights inside the main house went off, they ordered in pizza and Chinese, letting Gaz and Jackson playfully compete with each other and gorge themselves until the early hours. There was much to be celebrated.

As the summer began to roll away, Aiden knew that he would have to accompany Jackson back to his own family at some point, before college started back up.

“They’re going to be so pissed about what I’ve done,” Jackson grumbled, patting the thickness that had amassed on his stomach. “They pushed me so much to follow football. They were so happy when I got the sports scholarship, and now look at me!”

Aiden sighed, realising why Jackson’s appetite hadn’t been quite as ravenous in the last few days. The boy could give up sports, indulge and appreciate his swelling body without a care about what anyone else thought. But family, that was always different.

“Who said that you’re responsible for any of this?” Aiden asked, playfully grabbing a wedge of Jackson’s new belly fat. “As far I can tell, you’re just a nice boy who got ensnared by one of those awful feeder-types,” he joked.

Jackson smiled sweetly, but his nerves were still evident.

“I’m serious!” Aiden laughed. “You’ve got to stop thinking of yourself as being the master of your own destiny here. You’re the poor little victim!” he joked. “You fell for some pretty boy with a wicked, coercive personality; making you get fatter and fatter so that no one else will take you away from him.”

“Is that what you think my parents will assume?” Jackson chuckled. “That this is all your fault?”

“Of course they will,” Aiden laughed. “ It’s exactly what happened to Katy as well. A golden child like you, or Gaz, would never do something like this on purpose!” he smirked, squeezing Jackson’s cute chubbier cheek.

“That’s not really fair on you though, is it?”

Aiden shrugged playfully. “Are you sure about that? Without me, this little fat belly wouldn’t be here at all, would it?”

“I suppose not,” Jackson smiled, looking up gratefully at his lover. “But I’m glad that it is.”

“Well then, stop worrying. Every story needs a villain. I’ve got this one covered.”

The week-long visit to see Aiden’s family was predictably awful. As soon as Jackson’s parents saw their boy, Aiden felt an immediate wave of hostility heading his way. In contrast to the privacy they had enjoyed all summer, here Jackson’s family regularly went into the small bedroom they shared, organising a family intervention meeting as soon as they discovered the many empty snack wrappers and empty bottles of soda. Aiden had not been invited.

“What did they say?” Aiden asked as soon as Jackson made it back to the bedroom that evening.

“They’re pissed,” Jackson sighed. “Super pissed. I tried to defend you, but they’re adamant that you’re a bad influence on me. They don’t want us moving in together next semester.”

Aiden chuckled. “Well, that’s just too bad for them,” he smiled, tapping the bed for his overfed lover to sit down next to him.

“They made it clear that they’re going to be keeping a careful eye on what I eat whilst I’m here, and they want me to sign up for something sporting when I go back to college.”

“That’s fine,” Aiden nodded. “I’ve been looking into some eating contests I want to enter you into anyway.”

At this, Jackson couldn’t help but laugh. “How come you’re so laid back about all this?” he asked; visibly relaxing more as he settled into Aiden’s company.

“Because, if they think you’re fat now… they’re in for a real surprise in a few more months.”

Jackson turned into him and kissed him, growling with horny excitement. “Mmm, yeah!” he whispered. “It’s hard to imagine getting fatter; being here; getting told off for everything I put into my mouth.”

“I feel very sorry for them, I do,” Aiden agreed. “It’s so obvious that they don’t want a fat piggy for a son. But that’s not going to stop me.”

“I can’t see me gaining any weight this week,” Jackson replied apologetically.

Aiden laughed and shook his head. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he grinned. “No one backs a guy like me into a corner. In fact, I think this will be your highest calorie week to date.”

Jackson laughed. “What did you have in mind?” he asked; his new hardness starting to push into Aiden’s thigh.

Aiden smirked, starting to formulate a plan in his head. “If your family think I’m a monster… I’ll give them a monster. I’ll be their worst nightmare.”

The key to Aiden’s success over the next few days was in making sure the pair of them had a good reason to leave the house each day. Given that they were under such scrutiny, he had to use that time wisely to ensure that it was used effectively. Drinking a gallon of full fat milk was an old-fashioned technique to weight gain, but also very effective. Not only would it give Jackson a huge, fattening daily boost, but it would also train his capacity for the months to come. Time was so limited, the pressure on Jackson to get the milk down was intense as they sat together in a supermarket parking lot.

“Come on, we’ve got ten minutes until we need to start heading back,” Aiden reminded his lover as he got back in the car and saw that Jackson was still only half way through his gallon. There was always some excuse for why they needed to be back home at a certain time; never more than an hour until Jackson’s suffocating family needed them back under their supervision. Even when Aiden lied and told them they were going for a hike, the time limits never eased up.

Jackson burped and rubbed his bloated stomach. “It seriously hurts,” he grumbled, despite the serious hardness that was laying against his thigh.

“No pain, no gain,” Aiden replied mercilessly. He allowed Jackson a little more time to push himself as hard as he could, then poured out the water from the bottles they had taken with them for their supposed hike, then decanted the remaining milk into them; perfectly disguised.

It worked surprisingly well. Despite his large bloat, Jackson would always return looking sluggish and sweaty; genuinely needing to sit down, like he had really just been on a big hike. However, the suspicion on Aiden was always there. Not that Jackson’s family would ever dare to call him out on it to his face. Instead, they whispered behind his back and pulled Jackson aside to express their concerns. Aiden smirked and decided to enjoy the experience as their house guest nonetheless: the generous hospitality, eating their food, monopolising their large TV in the lounge; all the while secretly fattening up their pride and joy.

“Piggy, wake up!” Aiden whispered as quietly as he could into Jackson’s ear at night. “Piggy, come on now!”

Groggily, Jackson would stir in the darkness; his nose detecting the scent of something that needed eating. “Is that peanut butter?” he asked, just about making out a spoon close to his face.

“Shh, Piggy!” Aiden whispered, almost inaudibly, delivering the first piled spoonful once Jackson sat up slightly. This was one of the only things he had managed to sneak back into the house during their supermarket trip. He felt a little guilty, knowing that this wasn’t the nicest peanut butter available. But it was packed full of calories and was the only one he could find in a plastic jar so that he could scrape around inside it in the dead of night without making any noise.

After a minute or so, Aiden passed Jackson the jar and threw off the bed sheets, slipping a hand into the guy’s underwear, massaging the throbbing hardness that always came during these feeding sessions in the middle of the night. It wasn’t just the food or the inevitable weight gain it would cause that was arousing Jackson tonight; it was the knowledge that he was being fattened by someone as ruthless and scheming as Aiden. Someone who could smile politely to his parents’ face, then do this to him behind their backs. He’d moan softly, knowing that he would soon be allowed to climax as the end of the jar approached, then be shushed and reminded about just how naughty they were being.

After the horny boy came at last, Aiden smiled with satisfaction, using a cleaning wipe to mop up around the guy’s handsome face and ensuring he lay back down. He stroked his sweaty head until sleep came to find him once more, allowing the calories inside his little pig’s body to set to work.

Aiden was sure to hide all the evidence of their feeds, working with incredible stealth the entire week to ensure that he was never caught. Whenever Jackson’s family turned their backs, something was being done to their boy: pushing treats high in calories into his mouth, grabbing or jiggling the light fat on his body and whispering into his ear to get him hard and horny to eat later.

Despite this, Jackson was made to feel utterly miserable by his family the rest of the time. The parents really had no idea that they were playing into Aiden’s hands so well, setting the boy’s mind with a defiance and determination that he was going to eat and gorge himself into obesity as soon as he made it back to college. They had given Aiden and Jackson a common enemy that they could bond together against. So, when the end of the week finally arrived, Aiden knew that it had been one of the most productive periods of his and Jackson’s entire relationship. He said his goodbye to Jackson’s parents and older siblings, knowing that he hadn’t made any real connections with any of them. Then he climbed into Jackson’s car, waving them all off, both of them breathing a sigh of relief as they made it to the freeway. Freedom at last.

Later the next day, the two boys were very happy to be moving into their new apartment close to the campus. Everything was finally settling into place and a week of pure gluttony followed. As their student loans came through, the cupboards were packed full of everything needed to grow. The time coincided with the revelation that Jackson’s large pecs were at last starting to succumb to the weight gain; growing noticeably softer and more sensitive. Just as they had both hoped, the reactions of their friends were every bit as arousing as they had imagined. Jackson’s ex teammates seemed to feel no shame in grabbing and poking the guy’s new blubber as if it was all some big joke, caused simply by the lack of exercise now that he no longer trained. Their assumptions were all so beautifully sweet and innocent; before the blubber would become more extreme and concerning to them all; before they really realised what was really being done to the ex football player.

Once that initial coat of fat had been developed over Jackson’s toned body, the softening began to increase with remarkable speed. Fat built upon fat, rounding Jackson out to give him a genuine belly; the prize that they had long been working towards.

“Are you ever going to wear a shirt again?” Aiden joked; getting home and seeing Jackson playing with his jiggly tummy as he sat eating potato chips by the TV.

Jackson smirked, getting up and walking over to check out the things Aiden had picked up from the supermarket after his class; the fat in his middle bouncing gently as he sluggishly stomped across the room. He’d wanted the ice cream right away, but Aiden had insisted on letting it melt so that it would be easier and faster for Jackson to take down later. The chubby boy nuzzled into him, always so ridiculously horny after he’d been playing with his own belly. In the end, he was only pacified by a large box of cookies being handed to him.

“You’ve got that assignment to finish tonight, haven’t you?” Aiden asked, setting to making his lover a rather large dinner, before he too would have to pull out his laptop to continue working. Unlike last year when he had merely excelled at all his assignments, this year, Aiden was making as much of a name for himself as his sister had before him. He’d been offered a fast-track degree, completing his course in three years, instead of the full four; an offer that he could not turn down. However, the added pressure and workload had meant he’d dropped the ball on ensuring Jackson was keeping up with his own course in the same way as he had last year.

“I’ll do it later,” Jackson sighed dismissively, more interested in running his fingers along the soft roll of fat that overhung his waistband as he sat in front of the TV.

Aiden rolled his eyes. As much as he loved having such a fat and lazy boyfriend, it was stressful trying to get him organised. Someone on Jackson’s course had referred to him as ‘chubby’ last week, sending the ex-jock into a horny, fever-driven eating binge that lasted for days and left him very far behind on everything else. But it wasn’t Aiden’s job to organise every part of Jackson’s life, he reasoned, melting down an entire stick of butter for Jackson’s macaroni and cheese dinner. This was one problem the fat boy would have to sort out himself.

It was another week later, as Aiden got home, carrying another full bag of groceries, that he noticed something was wrong with Jackson. Even as he began unpacking his bags filled with fattening treats, his greedy lover hadn’t come over to check out what had been bought for him. Even more surprising, he was wearing his t-shirt and even his dirty sneakers hadn’t been kicked off his large feet yet.

“I got kicked off my course,” Jackson finally admitted. “They found out I’ve been using some software to write my last few assignments,” he mumbled. “Zero tolerance.”

Aiden gritted his teeth and sat down next to him, unsure how to take the news. In one way, life would be easier for him now that he didn’t have to stress about Jackson’s college work. The worst had now happened. But, on the other hand, Jackson’s student loan payments would soon stop and Aiden knew that the chub’s parents would be straight down to see him the moment they found out he’d messed up so badly. “Come on then,” he sighed, getting up from his seat and heading over to the kitchen. “We’ll have to get all this food eaten,” he declared, opening the over-packed cupboards and starting to pull things out. “If your mom is here this weekend, she can’t see any of this.”

“All of it?” Jackson asked, looking a little daunted.

“It’s not my fault!” Aiden grumbled back. “You’re the one who got us into this mess, remember.” He started organising it all into what could be eaten up by Jackson across the week: Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday. Perhaps, if they arrived later, there might be some room to get a little more of it eaten on Saturday morning too. “Well, don’t just sit there!” Aiden sighed, throwing a huge bag of toffee popcorn over to his boyfriend. “Make yourself useful and get started!”

Aiden ensured that he was very busy that weekend, heading to the library to give Jackson some time with his parents whilst they outlined, in very specific detail, exactly how he had disappointed them. This visit had worried him all week. Despite Jackson’s love and lust for their life together, the boy’s parents held a very powerful spell over him. He wouldn’t put it past them to insist their boy came straight home with them. That’s why getting Jackson a job had been Aiden’s priority before they arrived, with the lazy boy begrudgingly accepting a role within the campus on-site security team. Having an income, Aiden had reasoned, would go some way to ensuring his parents that Jackson had some sort of plan for life after college. Aiden dressed his boyfriend in his loosest fitting clothes and got the hell out of the way; happy to avoid most of the inevitable shit show.

It was nearly six by the time Aiden headed back to the apartment. He’d made his usual trip to the supermarket; this time picking up fruit and vegetables, alongside low fat yoghurts and milk; all part of the weekend’s charade. He slipped into the lounge area to quietly greet them both and offer a cup of coffee, making sure the stick of celery was highly visible in the shopping bag he was still holding. Unsurprisingly, they were both short with him and made it clear that they wanted to speak to Jackson on his own. Aiden looked up at his lover, seeing how utterly miserable he looked.

Aiden ground his teeth in annoyance as he headed back to the kitchen. The sooner they left, the better! Nobody wanted them here anyway.

Just then, the buzzer sounded, with someone waiting downstairs. Jackson hadn’t dared to order take-out whilst his parents were there, had he?

“Hello! It’s us!” sang Katy’s voice. “We’ve come to surprise you!”

Aiden’s eyes popped wide open. He’d been bugging his sister for weeks to come over and see the new apartment. But why now? “Jackson’s parents are here!” he mumbled nervously, not particularly wanting to buzz them in.

“Oh, lovely!” Katy shot back, oblivious. “Ah! Someone is just coming out. We’ll see you in a second!”

“No, wait!” Aiden tried to shout back, but it was already too late.

A brief knock came at the door seconds later and in strolled Katy with the enormous Gaz behind her; both of them carrying giant bags of food.

“I’m so sorry!” Aiden exclaimed, ignoring his sister and racing into the living room as fast as he could. “My sister and her husband have arrived.” He looked across at Jackson, expecting him to be annoyed by the intrusion during this sensitive time, but instead, his face lit up in delight. He jumped off his seat and headed out of sight to greet them both.

“Mom, Dad, this is Katy, Aiden’s sister,” Jackson explained as Katy suddenly appeared from around the corner, waving politely. “And this is her husband, my best buddy, Gaz.”

It never got dull, watching people’s jaws drop whenever they saw the size of Aiden’s brother-in-law. Gaz trotted in, making for the couch. “Budge up!” the gruff boy ordered, already knowing that it was going to be a squeeze to fit him on there alongside Jackson’s slender mom and dad. He hovered his wide, hippo-like backside for a moment, just giving the pair enough time to frantically slide to the side, then he dropped his enormous body down and sighed in relief that the couch hadn’t buckled underneath him. “That’s better!” he smiled, grunting as he reached for the TV remote and put the football on, with no intention of making boring small talk.

“Who brought the ice queen?” Katy joked as she headed into the kitchen with Aiden. “Judging by the look on her face, I’m guessing she’s not seen Jackson since his tits started coming in?”

“I was hoping it wouldn’t be too obvious with that t-shirt,” Aiden whispered back.

“Oh, honey, no!” Katy laughed. “There’s no hiding those things. His double chin is really starting to look good too as well, huh?” she smiled. “You’re doing an awesome job!”

“I don’t think Jackson’s parents see it quite that way. Jackson’s just been kicked out of college!”

“That’s why we came,” Katy nodded, having already heard all about it from Gaz. She began unloading the bags she and Gaz had brought in with them, filled with tasty treats that would soon refill the cupboards and refrigerator. “We thought we could cheer up old Fatso in there,” she smirked.

Aiden felt a knot of worry in his stomach.

“I didn’t know you got a new pet rabbit,” Katy teased, chuckling at the contents of Aiden’s own solitary shopping bag. The girl had definitely arrived with her own agenda. “I’m ordering in some Chinese,” she announced to them all, heading into the living room next and standing behind the couch. She leaned over her husband’s vast shoulders, kissed the back of his sweaty head and rested her arms on his enormous chest. “I know Gaz wants the banquet feast,” she declared proudly. “What about everyone else?”

Jackson’s parents immediately refused, looking decidedly awkward.

“What about you, Jackson?” Katy asked. “You’re not going to make my husband eat all by himself, are you?”

“Actually, Jackson is trying to cut down a little,” his mother replied for him.

At this, Gaz laughed mockingly. “You’re not, are you?” he asked Jackson, summoning all the teenage peer pressure that he could. “Are you going on a diet?” he teased, pretending to find the notion to be nothing short of hilarious.

Jackson shrugged, flushing with a little embarrassment. “Not really,” he replied, glancing awkwardly to the side at his parents.

“Order him the same as me,” Gaz instructed his wife. “He almost finished it all last time.”

Katy nodded. “Good idea. We’ll also qualify for the discount if we order over a certain amount.”

All eyes seemed to fall on Aiden, waiting for him to speak next. This process of encouragement had been like a relay race, with the baton being passed from Gaz, to Katy, and now onto him. He swallowed awkwardly. “I suppose we will need to think about beefing you up now you’ve got your new security job,” he nodded at his boyfriend. “Order him some fries on the side as well,” he instructed his sister, finding his confidence once more. “He loves the fries from there.”

Even more sour faced, Jackson’s parents sat back, outnumbered and not wanting to make a scene, despite silently fuming. Gaz and Jackson talked across to each other as they commented on the football, supping the beers that Katy had brought them and relaxing more and more. Gaz was an undeniable slob, burping up the gas from his beer and stretching out his arm onto the back of the couch, despite how obviously uncomfortable he was making the other two as his fat belly peeked out from under his t-shirt.

“I think we’ll find somewhere else to stay tonight,” Jackson’s dad finally declared as a mountain of Chinese food was delivered to his son. “It’s a little crowded in here,” he grumbled, looking at the enormous size of Gaz as he began gorging himself.

“If you’re sure?” Aiden smiled, getting up to let them both out. Had getting rid of them really been that simple? He followed them to the door, feeling like he would soon be able to breathe at last. “They’re gone!” he shouted after he saw the elevator close behind them.

There was an audible cheer from the lounge area and by the time Aiden made it back inside, both of the boys had slipped off their shirts as if to celebrate. Fresh beers were opened and the quiet sense of competition began between the pair of them.

“You’ve done a great job on his capacity,” Katy nodded in approval, seeing how much Jackson was holding his own against her monstrous husband. “What did you train him on?” she asked.

“Whole milk,” Aiden explained proudly. “We did a full daily gallon for a while.”

“Nice!” Gaz nodded at his pal, continuing to eat across the way from him.

“There’s some fresh ice cream melting for you boys in the kitchen when you finish,” Katy poked her husband to remind him, so that he didn’t let himself drift off afterwards.

“Relax!” Gaz laughed. “I won’t fall asleep. We’re celebrating! You’ll find it a lot easier to gain now you’re not studying,” he told Jackson. “I absolutely ballooned after college. No more assignments, exams and stress.”

“I think that’s what my parents are worried about,” Jackson laughed.

“Fuck them!” Katy spat back uncompromisingly. “They’re the reason we came down,” she continued, looking pointedly at her little brother. “You need to learn to not take shit from them: Your house, your rules, your pig,” she stated, expressing herself using her hands, much like a politician.

“He did get there in the end,” Gaz added, standing up for his small brother-in-law. “That bit about feeding him up for his new job was hilarious!”

Aiden nodded, taking all the notes on-board. He really had gone about this the wrong way. But no more. Jackson had always loved the fact that he was so merciless in fattening him up. So why had he made such an effort to disguise his true intentions to the boy’s parents? Especially when they were so rude and hostile in response. The truth was, Aiden was more than done with playing nice.

By the time Jackson’s parents arrived the next morning, the two gluttons had gorged themselves on a small mountain of pastries. Gaz sat in the same spot on the couch, only in the underwear he had slept in. Jackson sat beside him, playing a video game on a retro console the big man had brought along with him. It was only ten in the morning, yet the pair of them were already on their second beer.

Jackson’s parents looked on with disapproval, having clearly hoped that Gaz and Katy would have gone home by then. When Gaz won the race on the screen, the big man hooted in triumph and insisted that Jackson down his beer as punishment. Meanwhile, Aiden took delight in setting down a large bowl of potato chips, as well as dips, for the pair of them.

“Are you two staying for dinner?” Aiden asked. “Katy is roasting some meats and making a giant meal before they both leave later.”

“My wife is a very good cook,” Gaz winked at the pair of them, grabbing a little roll of his belly fat as his evidence, before he started the next game with Jackson.

“Don’t worry,” Aiden smiled. “She’s teaching me everything she knows. I’ll soon be able to cook for Jackson just like she does.”

Aiden’s mother smiled politely, her lips thin and awkward. “We won’t be staying,” she replied.

“We were hoping Jackson would come home with us for a few days,” announced his dad, realising that they were unlikely to get their son alone to explain this to him privately.

“But I start my new job on Wednesday,” Jackson shrugged as the countdown for the race began on the screen.

“Well, we’ll talk about that in the car on the way home,” his dad mumbled patronisingly. “Go and get a bag ready.”

“Jackson, honey,” Aiden smiled, rubbing his boyfriend’s back as the guy became engrossed in the new race. “You don’t want to go home, do you?”

“No,” Jackson replied, entirely focused on trying to catch up to Gaz’s car.

“Ha! You’re fucked now!” Gaz laughed crudely, whizzing ahead on the screen.

“Jackson, I really think that you should consider this carefully,” his mother tried, sensing that her husband was failing to make any impact as everyone’s attention stayed fixed on the screen. “You can’t continue making all these poor choices!”

“Oh, shit! Not again!” Jackson growled, seeing his car skid out of control and into the barrier.

“Put it in reverse, honey!” Aiden insisted, pretending to be interested. “You can still do this!”

“Jackson, I really think enough is enough!” his father stated next; his voice a little louder and more serious.

“YES!” shouted Gaz loudly, crossing the finish line with a spectacular lead. He leaned his enormous, fat body over Jackson and playfully pretended to punch him in his chubby middle again and again. “Get that beer down you!” he demanded as his prize.

“Go on, honey,” Aiden laughed. “Rules are rules!”

Jackson’s parents looked at each other as their son downed yet another beer and burped up the gas in much the same way as his repulsively obese friend beside him. They watched as Jackson rubbed his bloated stomach and moaned in amusement, cracking open a can of soda instead. Aiden smirked as he could see the hope in their eyes suddenly wither away and die.

Jackson was lost to them.

“What is it about you ex-football players and getting huge butts as soon as you finish playing?” Aiden laughed a few weeks later as he watched his naked, thick-thighed, over three hundred pound lover strutting back into the bedroom.

“Dunno!” Jackson shrugged, comically trying to twist his significantly overfed body so that he could attempt to take a look at the gigantic glutes behind him. “I guess it’s all that old muscle turning into fat. Since the holidays, I’ve really been feeling a difference back there.”

“You don’t say!” Aiden chuckled. The changes during the winter months had been really quite dramatic for a while there. Considering the fact that Jackson had only been purposefully gaining weight for just over a year, his shape was now entirely different. It was especially obvious when his shirt was off and all the more thrilling to observe. Despite the pounds and pounds of fat, it was still clear that it was all built upon a solid base: a good frame and plenty of previous muscle that shaped it all in a pleasing fashion. Rather than a soft, sagging belly, Jackson had a stout, rounded gut. His chest was dominated by fattened pecs and his muscular arms had now been coated in an insulating layer of fat, making them larger than ever before. It was obvious, from the way Jackson held himself and swaggered about, that he had never felt so masculine in his life. With his great height and build, he could still take this so much further. Perhaps, after years of training for football, building mass had been hard-wired into his brain on an endlessly rewarding feedback loop. Still handsome with his double chin, he’d continued to have girls trying to flirt with him on campus, but even they had now changed: chubby, obese girls who clearly weren’t having the sex life college had promised them. It was the security guard uniform that did it for them, no doubt, Aiden would joke, poking his overwight lover in his protrusive stomach.

Aiden had to smile, seeing Jackson’s slight erection as he excitedly slipped on his new larger underwear; a brand that Gaz had recommended to stop chafing, and one that only catered for fat guys. “These feel so much better!” he exclaimed, admiring his overweight physique in the mirror. “I’m never going back to normal underwear again.”

Aiden simply nodded and held back a chuckle. Jackson wasn’t really fat enough to fill them properly yet, nor appreciate the many ways they better supported obese men. Still, he was enjoying believing that he was; his own little fat fantasy. Even though he had learned to slob out when he got home and he could gorge himself just as well as a pig like Gaz, his body still wasn’t there quite yet. “How’re the work pants fitting at the moment?” Aiden asked, picking them up from the floor for Jackson to wear.

“They’re getting super tight!” Jackson grinned, taking them and manoeuvring his large feet down and inside the legs.

Aiden watched on sceptically. His horny, fat boy tended to have a habit of exaggerating. They were zipped and buttoned up, yet Aiden was still able to push three fingers under the waistband. “I think we’re about to hit a plateau with your weight. These should definitely be tighter by now,” he declared, tapping his boyfriend on his heavy backside.

“You serious?” Jackson asked, spinning to get a good look at himself in the mirror again. “You think my gains are slowing down?”

“Don’t worry. This sort of thing happens. It’s not so easy to fatten once the cold weather ends; complacency sets in,” Aiden shrugged. “I’ll double your calorie shake mix before bed.”

Jackson’s eyes bulged. “What? Wow!” he swooned, instantly getting aroused. “Doubling it? Seriously?” He pulled Aiden into him, as if wanting to check on his face that he wasn’t joking. “Do you realise what that would do to me?” he asked.

Aiden nodded. “Of course I do. It’s about time we started the big push towards three fifty.”

“Oh, man… when you talk like this…” Jackson mumbled, already moving to unbutton his pants with his chubby hands, so horny they were almost quivering.

“There’s no time,” Aiden smirked, stopping him in his tracks. “Your shift starts in ten minutes and I’ve got to get to class.”

“Are you really going to double my shake tonight?” Jackson asked with desperate lust.

“Yes,” Aiden smiled, collecting his books from the side.

Jackson moaned with a horny lust he knew he could do nothing about until later. The sound of it made Aiden smirk as he led the way out, knowing that his fat boy’s appetite today was already spinning into overdrive. That vending machine at his work was about to get very well used!

Aiden’s father had cooled dramatically in his enthusiasm towards Jackson by the following summer. A college drop out, fat, lazy and far too greedy for his own good; he’d adopted the same shortness with him as he gave Gaz. The fact that Jackson wasn’t picking up another job during the summer period really seemed to infuriate him as well; with his large tummy only swelling outwards as he lived off Aiden and slobbed about in the apartment above the garage.

“Doesn’t this make you miss playing football?” asked Aiden’s father as he sat down on the small chair in his lounge and caught Jackson watching some of the classic NFL moments from last season.

“No,” Jackson laughed, dipping his hand into his giant bowl of potato chips as Aiden sorted through their washing. “It just makes me remember why I quit!”

The older man shook his head in disapproval. “Katy’s husband always says the same thing when I ask,” he grumbled. “Fancy the pair of you just giving it up like that. You’re both such strange boys,” he mumbled, almost to himself.

“Well, I was the only one who quit,” Jackson corrected him. “Gaz got kicked off during his final year in college. I think he’d put on too much weight by then.”

“Oh, you think?” Aiden’s father shot back sarcastically. “Now he doesn’t even walk himself to work. Can you believe that? He gets Katy to drop him off, or gets a cab. It’s three blocks from their new apartment!”

“It’s still quite a walk,” Aiden jumped in, automatically defending his brother-in-law.

“It’s embarrassing is what it is!” his dad snapped back. “He’s broken three of your mother’s antique dining room chairs in the last year, the fat lump!” He took a sideways look at Jackson’s gut, unable to deny the bizarre similarities between his two children’s choice in partners.

“They’re very old chairs, though,” Aiden tried, handing Jackson a fresh beer and enjoying the fact that his dad was so easily wound up.

“Yes! Old and very expensive to repair!” the older man almost shouted.

Jackson’s head turned to look at the dining chairs. Only one pristine seat remained of the old set. Aiden knew exactly what he was thinking and he was more than happy with the plan that was formulating in the greedy boy’s mind. But if Jackson was going to annihilate the last chair, he’d need to up his weight by quite a good amount. “Wow, it’s hot today!” he exclaimed, leaning over the back of the couch to rest his hands on Jackson’s giant chest. “How about some ice cream?” He kissed the fat man on his ear; their silent love language that let Jackson know that Aiden had also seen the chair that needed breaking. “I’ll go pick up some supplies from the supermarket.”

Although the challenge was set, it took a further six months to achieve; with Jackson’s enormous rear finally sending the chair crashing down the day after New Year. Aiden’s mother had been in tears, whilst Jackson himself was taken back to the apartment and given the best blow job of his life.

“I told you I could do it!” he boasted, settling down with a large bucket of ice cream afterwards. His mood was nothing short of triumphant. He merrily gorged himself in reward, despite knowing that his daily calorie shakes would still need taking down soon. Then, dropping his spoon and tub to the floor, he grabbed Aiden’s hand and sent it on a guided tour of his larger gut. “Are you proud?” he asked.

“Very much so!” Aiden smiled, sitting himself on the limited remaining space on Jackson’s knee and kissing him sweetly. “There’s no repairing that sort of break. It was like it exploded!”

Jackson’s grin was wider than ever. He’d want to talk about this success for weeks to come. “Maybe now you’ll consider marrying me?” he asked for the hundredth time. Having grown so large and contrasting to Aiden, he’d suddenly become fixated by the idea.

Aiden chuckled and shook his head. “We can’t afford that yet. Especially now you’ve lost your job,” he teased; still finding it funny that Jackson had been getting away with sneaking off to gorge himself on fast food during his night shifts for so long. Still, having Jackson as a stay at home fat boy for the last few weeks had been a surprisingly kinky revelation for both of them.

“Oh, come on. We’re going to be rolling in it soon enough!” Jackson countered. “Your sister is already creating a bespoke job for you as soon as you finish college. And you know I can fatten up on the inheritance money from my grandma until then,” he chuckled.

“I’m sure that’s just what she had in mind when she left it to you,” Aiden joked.

Jackson smirked. “Well, that’s just too bad!” he sniggered. “She was always such a bitch to us. It serves her right. And, it’s either that, or get another job, which…” he chuckled, “...doesn’t especially appeal to me, now I’ve seen how quickly I can gain weight when I don’t have to get up and go to work. I never would have gotten myself over three eighty this Christmas without all that extra time to eat and sit on my fat butt.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Aiden nodded, sliding his hands up and down the mighty chest and belly of his lover.

“So let’s get married then,” Jackson grinned. “Wouldn’t it be so fun heading for breakfast with your parents tomorrow; the morning after I upset them both by breaking that antique chair, and announcing that they’re getting yet another fat slob in the family?”

Aiden laughed and nodded his head. “That certainly would be a very amusing time to do it,” he agreed. He considered the prospect some more. “Perhaps… if it was a long engagement…” he teased. “And you agreed that you’re far too skinny for us to be considering setting an actual date yet…”

Jackson's face was a picture of erotic delight, as if he was living out his favourite fantasy of all. He wasn’t the only one, either. It had been clear since the moment they first kissed that Aiden wouldn’t find anyone else so perfectly suited to him. This was it.

“I can see you had a good night last night,” Katy smirked at her new brother-in-law as she entered the lavish honeymoon suite two years later and picked up Jackson’s enormous pants, folding them neatly on the back of a chair like a woman who was well used to tidying up after her own giant husband.

“I’m amazed you didn’t break the bed!” Gaz laughed, following in behind her and heading to sit in the wide chair to chat to his buddy, Jackson, as he sat up in bed; overfed and oversexed the morning after the wedding. “That was quite some show you put on eating so much of that wedding cake!” he teased, patting his buddy on his leg, both out of pride and sympathy for how much of a drunken glutton he had made of himself in front of everyone.

Jackson laughed at himself. “I’d had quite a few beers by that point. I just though, ‘fuck it’, it’s my wedding day. If I want to eat half a cake to myself, I will do.”

Katy laughed and winked at her brother. “He’s definitely a keeper, this little piggy!” She then busied herself, explaining to Aiden about everything that had been done to ensure nothing was going to be forgotten after the reception last night. “The cake has all been boxed up and put in that bag there,” she pointed. “All the decorations are either in our car, or mom and dad’s. Aunt Sally told me to tell you how handsome you looked yesterday. She actually hit it off quite well with one of Jackson’s cousins, but I’ll save that story until you get back!”

Aiden thanked her, as the two fat men sat chatting. The over five hundred pound Jackson was completely comfortable without his shirt on in front of them all; incredible amounts of fat in his chest spreading onto his lap from his bulbous gut in much the same way it did fof Gaz. But Katy was in a rush and the pair did not stay too long, heading off and wishing them well on their honeymoon.

“Alone again!” Aiden smirked, closing the door once more and removing his clothes seductively.

The fat man growled in kinky approval and slid his fat body a little down the bed. “Bring that leftover cake,” he pointed at one of the bags that had just been delivered. “I’ve only got until tomorrow morning to break this bed,” he grinned. “This fat boy is about to show you something very special…”

#gainer stories #gainerstory #gayfeedee #gainerfic #gainerstories #gainer story #gayfeeder #gainer fiction #gay feedee #gainer fic

245 notes · View notes

knavesflames · 2 days

Note

sucking arles dick???😁😇

Hi!! Apologies this took so long.

Word count: 725

Contents: blowjob, tears, praise

[scheduled post]

Nsft utc!

She’s gentle at first, her lips which are so usually set in a line turning up into a warm smile as you sink to your knees. Her eyes glint when your mouth instinctively opens at the feeling of her ever so gently tapping the tip of her on your face, and the second your tongue swirls over her, she lets out a breathless “good girl”.

She watches you with her lips parted, her eyes half closed and glazed with the pleasure she’s attempting to hide she’s feeling— she’s the fourth harbinger, known for being mad and cursed, of course she struggles to express her pleasure. At least, to begin with. She’s still, letting you work and get used to her because yes, she is bigger than average, and yes, it’s a struggle for you. With your head against the bed and your knees on the floor cushioned by a pillow (she’s mad and cursed, not cruel as some might think, though she enjoys the misconception), you know that once she gets worked up enough there’s no escape.

Her charred fingers grip the bedsheets, pink, just like you wanted them. You remember when you asked so kindly for them.

“Tell anyone that I sleep in a bed with pink sheets with flowers on and you’ll regret it, my dear.”

You, of course, promised you’d tell nobody. Though, you have to stifle a laugh when she’s grumbling about work and climbing into said bedsheets, her expression a stark contrast to where she’s about to hibernate for the night.

She can’t seem to help herself, you look so beautiful on your knees, and she starts gently moving her hips, grabbing your wrists with such care and placing them above your head. A loose grip, but a grip nonetheless and you know not to move them away from her. Her gentleness proves her love for you, but you know not to be disobedient (unless you want to cum so many times you can’t take it).

Her breath becomes heavier, quick puffs of air leaving her lips. She does not make a sound, and yet you can see how her cheeks begin to flush and her thrusts begin to speed up until they become more than gentle thrusts, but an attempt to get as deep into your mouth as she can. And when she finally hits the back of your throat, a groan does come out of her, though strained and muffled by how hard she’s gritting her teeth. She stays there, enjoying the sensation before you cough, your body heaving for a split second before she pulls back, bringing strings of saliva with her.

She gives you respite for only a few seconds before she continues, taking a step forward so your head is pinned to the bed, so you get to watch as she fucks your throat with reckless abandon in the hopes of chasing the high you both know so well. She hits the back of your throat again, and again, and your gagging and choking only becomes more prominent every single time your nose meets her pelvis.

“You take me so well, do you not, doll? Look at you, so messy for me. My pretty little whore.”

You attempt to hum in response, but she only groans again. Her grip on your wrists becomes tighter as she loses her sense of self control. With her ragged breathing and her eyes on you as tears prick at your eyes, she begins fucking your throat fully, shallowly thrusting and relishing in every single sound you make. Gags and choking and the lewd, lewd sloppy sounds echo the lavish bedroom, and before long, a few tears slip down your cheeks, mingling with the spit on your chin. Yet, the only thing you can focus on is her babbling praises, becoming more and more incoherent.

Her thrusts slow, but harden, and within a few more jerking movements of her hips, she makes a sound akin to a whine and a growl combined. You feel the strings of cum slide down your throat, and just the way she likes it, you swallow every last drop before she pulls out and bends down, her thumb swiping over your bottom lip to clear the drool threatening to join the mess on your chin.

“You did so well. So, so well. Come here, angel.”

#🔥𝔎𝔫𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔰𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰 #🔥 𝔎𝔫𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔰𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔫𝔟𝔬𝔵 #arlecchino #arlecchino smut #arlecchino genshin #arle fic #arlecchino genshin impact #genshin impact #arlechinno genshin #arlechinno x reader #arle #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin wlw #arlecchino x reader #genshin impact arlecchino

158 notes · View notes

strangererotica · 1 day

Text

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Husband!Steve Harrington x Reader | Inspired by this request

Road trip! You, Steve, and your two boys (with Eddie along for the ride) have made it to the lake you’ll be camping at for the next couple of days. Steve is having some major baby fever. He manages to work out a plan with Eddie that secures time alone for just the two of you, to work on making baby #3…

Includes breeding kink, oral (f receiving) squirting, soft dom!steve, fingering, cum play

For the first time since leaving Hawkins, you hear nothing. No arguing, no complaining, no children’s voices spouting ‘Jimmy just called me a mean name!’- or - ‘Mom! Dad! Dusty’s copying me!’ - or the classic ‘Are we there yet???’ - (which, to be fair, the last one was also asked by Eddie more than a few times…)

Regardless, your and Steve’s two delightfully mischievous boys were talking up a storm the whole way to Kentucky. Somehow, miraculously, Steve had managed to drive the five of you over the Kentucky border and to the lake (your destination) without losing his mind.

Once the boys were set loose from the confines of the cramped backseat, they were able to run around and burn off some energy while you, Eddie and Steve set up camp. Thankfully, the process went smoothly and quickly. You all changed into your swimsuits and had a refreshing dip in the lake to cool off after.

In spite of the challenges parenting entailed, Steve couldn’t help but admire the lives the two of you had created together. The ones that made you a family, so much more than just a couple. Being Jimmy and Dusty’s dad was the greatest honor Steve had ever had, along with being your husband. He hoped, just as you did, to one day expand your family even further. As he watched you playing in the water, yelling ‘Marco!’ as your boys called back ‘Polo!,’ Steve realized he didn’t want to wait another day to start expanding…

Convincing Eddie to take the boys into a nearby town for a movie and ice cream was easy enough. Movies and ice cream were two of Eddie’s favorite things already, and the wad of cash Steve stuffed into his hand was even more incentive to get the kids out of your hair for a few hours.

Now that you’re alone, the silence feels strange. Steve makes up for it by taking your hand and walking with you out to the edge of the lake, helping you relax. He’s got this dreamy, far-away look in his eyes as he gazes out over the water.

“Hey,” you nuzzle his shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“I was just thinking,” Steve replies, his hands settling at the small of your back. “About how pretty you look every time I get you pregnant…” His comment catches you off guard, but not in a bad way. You’re…curious. Steve tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, a suggestive glint in his hazel eyes. “…This beautiful belly all swollen and round…”

Steve’s hands glide around your waist and over your stomach, traveling upward to linger on your breasts. “…These gorgeous tits, full and heavy with milk for our baby-.” He abruptly lowers his lips to your breast and tugs your nipple through your shirt. “-And me,” Steve grins up at you, a devilish smirk that has your clit throbbing. “I think I’d like to see you that way again,” he adds, and suddenly, the pieces begin to fall into place.

“You dirty boy,” you tease, a big smile on your face. “Is that why you asked Eddie to take the boys to a movie? So you could fuck me?”

Steve holds you by the wrist, pulling your hand to his crotch. Your fingers instinctively curve around the thick outline of his erection. “I’m not just going to fuck you, honey,” Steve murmurs, his other hand clutching the back of your hair. “I’m gonna get you pregnant tonight...”

Minutes later, you’re both stripped naked and on the floor of your tent. Steve’s hands are all over you, pawing at your body like he’s fucking you for the first time. Guiding a hand between your legs, Steve gropes your cunt roughly till it’s weeping against his palm. He pads his thumb against the puffy button between your slick thighs, making you tremble. Sinking his lips over your earlobe, Steve tugs gently at the soft, sensitive skin. His fingers glide between your swollen, slippery folds, your pussy throbbing under his skillful touch.

“Steve,” you breathe against his cheek, as his thumb rubs circles over your clit. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna come-.” He suddenly removes his hand; and as you’re reeling from the loss of stimulation, Steve’s crawling down your body and burying his face between your thighs, latching his lips over your clit and sucking the plump bud till you’re moaning his name at the top of your lungs. With a guttural shout, you come undone in Steve’s mouth, gushing between his lips, creating a slippery puddle on the floor of the tent.

Steve lifts his head from between your legs, his face glistening with your cum. He moves quickly up your body, eyes locked with yours as he enters you. A dull groan leaves Steve’s lips, his eyes now glazed with a rabid look of hunger. He pounds your cunt in sharp, determined thrusts, knowing he won’t be able to last long with the way you’re gripping his cock. Steve lurches his hips into yours at a pace that has you light-headed and stupid, reducing you to little more than a bitch to be bred.

Steve’s arms are locked around your upper body, clutching you to his chest. Growling like an animal into your shoulder, Steve pumps your cunt full of his seed, filling and overfilling you till he’s punching his own semen out of you with every thrust. He pulls out of you gently, looking between your bodies at your pussy, sloshing with his cum as you wriggle your hips. “Stay still, honey,” Steve sweetly scolds you. “Little pussy’s so tight, gonna push my cum right out if y’keep moving like that…”

You still your hips, grinning up at Steve’s face, and how serious he’s being. Your smile evaporates into a gasp as Steve’s fingers press inside you, working slick squelching sounds out of your cunt as he scoops and stuffs his oozing cum deeper inside you. “Mmm,” he coos down at you, rubbing his thumb along your inner thigh. “You look so good on your back like this, stuffed full of my cum…” He leans over your body and presses his lips to yours. “…Now keep those hips elevated, baby,” he instructs, glancing at his watch, the only article of clothing he has on. “Stay like this for the next twenty minutes or so, yeah? While I go chop some wood for the fire tonight.”

You nod obediently, deliriously in love with your husband, parting your lips to invite his tongue between them. You watch Steve pull his jeans back on and exit the tent, leaving you bred and contented inside. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you fall asleep to the sound of Steve chopping wood outside the tent. While you dream, your womb accepts Steve’s seed as it has twice before…and you dream of him holding his first daughter in his arms…

165 notes · View notes

melzula · 3 months

Note

Can you please write jealous Zuko? It can be however you like😊

a/n: i love jealous zuko! however this ended up being more angsty than i intended😭 hope you enjoy!

summary: a party at the palace leads to a deep revelation for zuko

He was miserable.

The palace didn’t throw parties very often these days, but the recent conquering of another Earth colony was deemed a call for celebration, and so all of the noble families in the Capital City were invited to attend. A grand feast was held and praises were showered upon Ozai throughout the night. It was one of the rare times Zuko didn’t have to worry about his father’s wrath, and so he should have been enjoying himself.

But he couldn’t, not when he could see that across the way another boy was flirting with you right in front of him.

You were Zuko’s everything- his childhood best friend that he’d always held harbored feelings for. During his banishment he thought of you constantly, and upon his arrival he immediately asked you to be his girlfriend. You were sweet and friendly, easily approachable and always able to cheer him up despite his moodiness, you were perfect. And apparently this other boy could see this too.

You smile out of politeness and nod along to the boy’s rambling story about his fire bending skills and high IQ, not very interested in listening but too nice to brush him off. It infuriates Zuko to see someone else take advantage of your kindness, and he’s unable to just sit back and watch any longer.

A harsh hand lands upon the boy’s shoulder, startling both of you in the process. Zuko’s eyes are blazing with fury, his palm scorching the fabric of the boy’s robes and scaring the spirits out of him in the process.

“Can’t you take a hint? She doesn’t want to talk to you!” the Prince bellow angrily, prompting a few guests nearby to turn their heads curiously towards the commotion. A bit embarrassed at the sudden attention, you gently pull Zuko’s hand away and drag him out to the gardens before he can escalate the situation any further. The last thing you need is for him to cause a scene at his father’s party.

“What?” Zuko says defensively as you wordlessly walk through the palace hallways. “I was helping you!”

“You were acting jealous again,” you chide gently.

“No I wasn’t!” He argues defensively only to shrink under your pointed gaze. “…I was.”

“I love you, Zuko, but I don’t love how jealous you can get sometimes. I’m your girlfriend, don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do!” He interjects quickly, almost offended at the notion.

“Then what is it? Why do you act this way?”

Zuko is silent, his eyes casted sullenly to the floor as you patiently wait for his answer. You take his hands in your own and give them a reassuring squeeze to let him know you’re there for him, and the act seems to coax him out of his stupor.

“I’m afraid you’ll change your mind about being with me, and once the right guy comes along you’ll realize you’re better off without me,” he admits quietly, almost ashamed to voice the thought out loud.

“Zuko…” you utter sadly, heartbroken at the fact that he could even believe such a thing.

“Why do you want to be with a boy who’s been exiled from his own country before? Whose own father burned his face? Who’s so messed up in every way possible?”

Gently carefully cupping his face in your hands, you tilt his head upward to meet your sincere gaze. His eyes are glossy with tears he refuses to let fall, and your heart aches for the poor boy before you. You wish you could take away all of his hurt in agony, but you can’t, so you do your best to take away his insecurity instead.

“I wish you could yourself the way I see you,” you tell him lovingly. “You are more than enough for me, more than I could ever ask for. You’re strong, you’re brave, you’re smart. You’re you. I love you, Zuko. No one’s ever going to get into the way of that.”

He says nothing in response but simply yanks you into his arms for the tightest hug you’ve ever possibly received. You know he isn’t the best at words or emotions, but his embrace conveys that he is grateful for every word to come out of your mouth.

He knows he may be jealous at times, but he also knows that he doesn’t have to be anymore.

Because you’re not going anywhere.

| atla tags: @sirkekselord @niktwazny303

| zuko tags: @thebluelcdy @royahllty @the-firebender-girl @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @knaite-solo @taeeemin

#zuko #zuko x reader #zuko imagine #prince zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko imagine #atla #atla x reader #atla imagine #avatar the last airbender #request

3K notes · View notes

luveline · 1 month

Note

Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3

ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k

“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.”

“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.”

“I understand, but–”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.”

You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?

“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself.

The door opens while you’re looking through your bag.

“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?”

You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.”

“Did you call them?”

Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden.

Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull.

“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks.

You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top.

Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ?

“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly.

You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.”

“We really don’t have time to waste.”

“I know, but my blood sugar–”

She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”

“Clearly not!”

“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.”

The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed.

You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.”

If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.”

Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?”

“You want to chew it for me?” you ask.

He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.”

He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick.

“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.

“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth.

He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut.

In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?”

You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.”

“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?”

“No,” you say apologetically.

“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.”

Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”

“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”

“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.

“How did you get so low?” he asks.

“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?”

“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.”

“Don’t usually get so dizzy.”

“When was the last time you were below seventy?”

“Don’t know,” you mumble.

Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?”

He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke.

You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard.

By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her.

You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.”

“I understand.”

You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.

He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.”

“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble.

He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.”

“What do I get in return?”

He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

2K notes · View notes

nxuvillette · 7 months

Text

“THERE’S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING”

LOSING YOUR VIRGINITY W/ TR MEN

synopsis: your first time is supposed to be special and with the right person. luckily, you have an amazing boyfriend who is willing to make that dream come true.

❥- including : manjiro (mikey) sano, ken (draken) ryuguji, baji keisuke, hanma shuji

❥- note : first tr post 👍🏻 i’m kinda nervous because these were a little longer than my last post but i hope y’all enjoy <3. reblogs are appreciated!!

content warnings: nsfw [17+], fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, virgin!reader, established relationship, virginity loss, praising, oral sex [f!receiving] (mikey , baji), fingering (draken , baji , hanma), finger sucking (baji), slight breeding kink (hanma), creampie (draken , hanma) use of pet names (baby , princess , babydoll , doll) multiple orgasms.

♡ MANJIRO (MIKEY) SANO

you and your boyfriend mikey had been together for a little while. he was nothing but kind to you, and you honestly trusted him more than anybody else that you knew. he was everything.

intimacy had never really crossed his mind before. sure, he knew sex was important, but it wasn’t something he necessarily saw as a necessity in your relationship. not to mention, you were a virgin. you knew things about sex and such, but you never acted upon those desires you had inside your head. mikey was also patient. he never really saw sex as something that had to be rushed.

eventually, you reached that point after your one year anniversary that you were ready to lose it to him.

mikey honestly couldn’t believe that he did so little to you, yet you were a dripping mess when he took your panties off. he believed if you weren’t a virgin he wouldn’t even need to do foreplay to make you feel good, but he wanted to make sure you were prepped and you got to experience a great first time with him.

his favorite part was watching you squirm and tremble as his tongue dove into your sopping pussy. you hadn’t experienced such a feeling before and it was so thrilling. his tongue dragged along your slit and you almost came from him just eating you out. mikey couldn’t get enough of how delicious you tasted. he was in disbelief that someone as good as you was hiding like this for so long. it took everything in him to not keep eating you out.

when mikey finally entered you, you were both in complete heaven.

mikey was fairly long and his size made you gasp. he was reaching spots that made your mind feel dizzy. with all of the prep he did it also didn’t feel as bad as you thought it would have. he couldn’t believe you felt that amazing. your pussy was hugging his cock so nicely he thought he’d never be able to actually leave it. it was so warm and perfect.

once you gave him the go ahead to start moving, he made you feel like you were on some type of drug. the feelings you were having were so euphoric. you craved more. you knew he was being gentle on purpose, but you were beyond wanting that soft and delicate sex.

“m-more, mikey! i need more.. please..” you begged, gripping onto his forearms to show how desperate you were for more of him.

hearing those words snapped something inside mikey, and he ended up quickening his thrusts into you. the tip of his cock kissed your g-spot, making you see white stars in your vision and your body to completely ignite. “fuck.. don’t you worry, baby, i’ll give you all you’ll ever need..” he looked into your eyes, making you feel somewhat flustered at his words.

you were so close to reaching your high. you were practically clawing at mikey’s back and letting out the most lewd noises every time he rutted into you. this was the first time you had ever felt something so intense in your life. not even your own hand could make you cum that hard. it was like that white hot pleasure in your gut was finally unleashed and it was making you go crazy. mikey had also cum, too. he was in utter shock at how much he released onto your stomach, but he was more than satisfied with the results.

he pecked your lips, a smile writing itself on his features. “you were so great.. i’m so proud of you.”

♡ KEN (DRAKEN) RYUGUJI

dating toman’s number two was definitely one of the best decisions you had made in your entire life. draken was a better man than your own father and he did everything right in your relationship. he was practically someone who had zero flaws.

there were a few times you and draken had gotten close to actually having sex. sometimes you’d come over to his place and end up with his hands down your pants, but it never escalated to you both carrying out such an act with one another. draken was well aware that you were a virgin and he didn’t really have an issue with that. he wanted to be the one to make you feel good and he didn’t care how much time it took. unlike some men, he had genuine patience.

you and draken had been in his room that night it happened. you were both watching a movie when his hands began to wander around your body, squeezing and massaging your skin to make you feel aroused. it didn’t take long for you to end up on top of your boyfriend with your crotch pressing right up against his aching bulge.

when you paused in your actions, you whispered to draken that you were ready to finally take that step with him. he was honestly a little surprised to hear such a thing, but he wasted no time pressing your body onto the mattress and going down on you. he almost came on the spot when he came face to face with your weeping pussy. he knew with his size that you’d need the prep, so he took his time with you.

draken used two of his thick fingers to push into your cunt. he was astonished at how tightly your walls surrounded his digits. he loved hearing you call out his name each time he pumped himself into you. you were such an angel.

once he had made you cum twice, he knew you were ready.

you were honestly kind of nervous. draken was the biggest you had ever seen. when he pushed his cock inside you, there was this sharp inhale that escaped your lips. he was so thick. the girth was stretching you out to almost your limit and you practically held onto him for dear life as he bottomed out into you. you didn’t think he’d be able to make it fit, but he did. he could tell you had some discomfort, so he peppered a few kisses onto your face and whispered sweet nothings to ease you. all he wanted was for you to be comfortable.

you gave him the nod of approval to start moving and you honestly thought he was going to split you in half. his cock was so big. you felt that vein dragging along your walls as he thrusted and it sent you into pure bliss. you could hardly contain the cries of pleasure that spilled from your throat. “d-draken! shit.. ‘feels so good!” you looked at him with hazy eyes while he fucked you so effortlessly.

your voice was like music to his ears. draken’s dick twitched when he heard how his name slipped off your lips. “yeah? you like that, princess? you’re so fuckin’ tight.. i can’t get enough of this pussy..” he grunted.

that knot inside your belly has finally snapped when those words processed through your foggy brain. draken groaned hard when your cunt clamped around his cock, milking him of what was left in his balls. he couldn’t hide his smirk when he realized he had filled you up with his cum. you seemed to enjoy it too, judging by the moan you let out when you felt him covering your walls with white.

he leaned towards your ear, his breath fanning against the shell. it sent shivers down your spine at the action. “round two..?” he asked, seductively.

♡ BAJI KEISUKE

sexual intimacy was never something that was a necessity in your relationship with baji. the two of you often focused on more romantic things than the physical aspects of a relationship, but that didn’t mean that you two never craved those inappropriate desires.

baji knew from day one that you were a virgin. he accidentally asked that “are you a virgin?” question when you both went on a date and almost slapped himself when he realized he came from his mouth. you thought it was kind of funny and you ended up revealing to him that you were a virgin. he didn’t mind at all, and he assured you that he’d never put you in a position where you felt forced to have sex with him. he said sex came naturally and when you were ready to do it with another person.

you and baji went on a nice ride on his bike that night. there was a gorgeous sunset that you both watched and he took you home, expecting you to go into your apartment and not look back. however, he was quite shocked when you tugged his arm to come with you. this hadn’t happened before, so it took him off guard. nonetheless, he followed you up to your apartment and went inside with you.

after you both shrugged off your jackets, you both ended up in your bedroom and baji was the one on top of you. the two of you hadn’t expected it to become so heated that quickly, but you were too far lost in your bliss to even think about stopping. he paused when he realized you were tugging at his belt buckle. he questioned if you wanted to do it and you nodded eagerly. you told him you were sure that you wanted to proceed and he wasted no time diving into you.

baji thought your body was so gorgeous. he couldn’t stop kissing at your skin and sucking to leave marks on it. when he reached your cunt, his mouth practically watered at the sight of it. it was so puffy and cute that he couldn’t help but have a taste. his tongue swiped over your sensitive bead, causing your thighs to trap his head. he was so talented with his tongue and his fingers that you swore you could cum from just him eating you out.

once his chin and lips were completely covered in your arousal, he decided to finally pull out his cock that was aching so painfully.

as soon as baji entered you, your eyes rolled backwards into your skull. the pleasure already felt so amazing that you were already feeling needy for your boyfriend. baji had a pretty impressive size, so taking it was a bit painful at first. he was, however, very good at talking you through that sting. he kissed your lips and whispered how beautiful you were, and he praised you for taking him so well despite the stretch of his cock.

once he started moving, you wrapped your arms around his neck so you could bring him closer to you. baji thought your pussy hugged him perfectly like you were made for him to make love with. you were so gorgeous. he could hardly keep his eyes off of you. “f-fuck me, baby, you’re so beautiful.. bein’ such a good girl for me..” he pressed his thumb against your pretty lips, in which you sucked on it obediently.

you whined as baji adjusted his angle. his cock was now repeatedly hitting your g-spot which sent waves of pleasure to crash over your body. he was taking such care of your body that you didn’t think you’d ever need to fuck anyone else but him. “baji! oh, god, baji!” your nails dug crescents into his skin as he fucked you.

you threw your head back as your orgasm snapped through you. your pussy creamed around baji, earning several grunts from him. he pulled out the moment he felt his high hurdling towards him. sticky white cum covered your stomach, making a mess on your skin.

baji kissed your cheek, a smile appearing on his face. “you were perfect.. let’s wash up and cuddle after, yeah?” he nodded, in which you agreed.

♡ HANMA SHUJI

dating someone like hanma shuji meant you had to deal with his sarcasm and also his flirty nature at the same time. however, he treated you like a princess regardless of those random snarky moments he had. he did anything for you and you couldn’t be happier with any other man.

hanma almost didn’t believe you when you told him you were a virgin. it wasn’t like he thought you were lying for some other reason, but most people your age weren’t virgins. he didn’t see it as a problem, though. hanma thought it would be cute to someday take your virginity. he craved that physical intimacy more than you anticipated, but he was patient with you when it came to the matter. he would wait as long as you wanted, even if there was a side of him that desired to fuck your brains out on a daily basis.

he took you out earlier in the day for some shopping. you were used to being spoiled by him at times, so it wasn’t unusual. he knew the routine fairly well but he was kind of surprised when you both got home and you were being more touchy with him than usual. you brushed yourself over his crotch a few times and kissed him a little longer than normal. he wondered what you wanted, because he couldn’t handle teasing whatsoever.

he was taken back when you told him you wanted to have sex with him. he thought it was a joke, but he knew you were serious when you gave him that look. he didn’t waste another second dragging you into the bedroom and pouncing on you like he was a wild animal going for his prey.

hanma took care of you. he made sure every inch of your body was kissed by his lips. he wanted you to know how stunning you were while you were naked. he swore god had favorites in that moment. it took everything inside of him to not completely ravage your cunt. when he slipped his fingers into you, he was shocked at how easy it was. you were practically soaking wet. his fingers were also quite lengthy. he curled and twisted his digits to find that button inside of you that would make you crumble in front of him.

you were shocked at how quick hanma had made you cum. before you knew it, he was hovering above you with his cock tip teasing your slit. you couldn’t wait any longer and practically begged him to enter you. he let out that usual chuckle and then pushed his cock into you, making your head fall backwards from how great it felt.

he made you feel like you were on the moon with how great he filled you. hanma could hardly believe you were taking him that well. you felt so full with him fully bottomed out in you. it took a little while for you to completely adjust to the size, but once that pain faded into pleasure, you had become a mess underneath your lover. he made your mind become cluttered and you couldn’t even think straight with how great the pleasure was.

“hanma.. oh, fuck! yes!” your fingers gripped the sheets underneath your body.

he smirked at your voice crying out for him. he could hardly hold back against you. he quickened his speed a little, but made sure to not overwhelm you completely. you were delicate to him and he only wanted you to feel safe with him. “god, babydoll, it’s like you were made for me..” he used the hand with sin to toy with your puffy clit. “‘gonna make sure you cum all over my cock..”

you couldn’t hold back anymore and completely let go on him. your pussy squeezed his cock tightly and covered it in slick arousal. hanma pushed a load into your womb, grunting as he reached his high. it was so intense he thought he might have cum twice from you.

he took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours and pressing a few kisses onto your neck. “i’m so proud of you, doll.. you did so well..” he whispered, lovingly.

#·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ official work !#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x you #mikey x reader #mikey sano x reader #mikey smut #draken x reader #draken smut #draken x you #baji x reader #baji keisuke x reader #baji smut #hanma shuji x reader #hanma x reader #hanma smut #tokyo revengers imagines

3K notes · View notes

eddiesxangel · 24 days

Text

Never Have I Ever… | E.M x Virgin!Reader

TJ’s 2K Request celebration!

@nailbatanddungeon : “I have a request for youuu. Okay, this is Eddie x Virgin!reader, reader is still new to everything, but there is one thing that the reader needs but is scared to push because the reader is TOUCH STARVED (So am I)”

Cw: reader and Eddie are in their mid to late 20’s, touch starved virgin!reader, angst, fluff, alcohol, throwing up(too much alcohol consumption), hangovers, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, protected sex. Friends to lovers

WC: 3.1k

I hope you enjoy!! 💗

“You’ll get there; you’re just a late bloomer, is all”

A late bloomer, you’ve heard it your whole life- and you’re sick of it. Sick of feeling behind in life? You’re in your twenties now and getting absolutely shit-faced because you’ve never done anything in this game of never have I ever.

You, Nancy, Steve, Eddie, Robin, Jonathan, and a few others were at the block party, and you somehow ended up involved in the juvenile game.

“Never have I ever kissed the same gender,” you drank.

“Never have I ever dumped anyone,” you drank.

“Never have I ever smoked weed,” you drank.

“Never have I ever said the wrong name in bed.” That’s rich because you’ve never been in a bed with anyone to begin with.

You hadn’t relized how much you’ve had to drink until you stood up.

“Woah, you okay?” You hear Nancy speak as you wobble.

You had wanted to get up and get more to drink because, unlike the others, your cup was empty.

“Yeah.” You tried to get out, but it sounded more like a grunt to the others.

Ignoring their protests, you stumbled your way back to the kitchen, feeling sorry for yourself.

You fumble with the lid of the hard liquor bottle until a strong ring-clad hand clasps over yours. You freeze, pissed off and embarrassed, knowing who the hand belongs to.

Even in your inebriated state, you get that same feeling whenever he is around you. You feel the heat in your cheeks instantly as the butterflies in your stomach irrupts.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sweetheart.”

You look down, not wanting to see the look on his face.

“I don’t care” you slur. God, you will hate yourself in the morning.

Of all people, it had to be Eddie to come and check on you?

That’s how he was—always worried, always babying you because you “weren’t experienced in life,” according to his words, and it made you mad! It made you seem like a child, and you were sick of people treating you as such. You were a grown woman, you had a 9:00-5:00, an apartment, and a degree, but none of that mattered—not when it came to dating and love.

“Sweetheart, please, you need to slow down.”

“Why?” You rolled your eyes. “I’m a big girl I can handle my alcohol.” You huffed.

“I just think— "

"IM TIRED OF WHAT YOU THINK!" you've had enough. No one took you seriously, and you couldn't help that Eddie happened to be the only one to feel your wrath.

"Woah, okay-okay, I’m sorry."

“I’m sick of everyone treating me like a child!" the dam broke, and streams of mascara fell down your cheeks.

"I don't think you're a child." Eddie timidly reached out his comforting hand.

"Yes, you do."

"When have— "

"ANY TIME WE ARE OUT, EDDIE! Like last week at the bar, I was so close to getting that guy's number and you swooped in acting like my father!"

"Sweetheart I—"

"Don't sweetheart me!" You cut him off once again. "It's demeaning."

"y/n. Let me take you home. We can talk about this tomorrow."

"I don’t want to."

"Too bad we are going." Eddie no longer gave you a choice. He took your hand and started to pull you along with him.

You stumbled, tripping over your feet because your balance was gone completely.

“Woah, see my point exactly.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, and Eddie can’t help but stifle a laugh. You were so cute.

Eddie didn’t mean to make you think you were juvenile…. He admired you and wanted to protect you; you were a woman to him, all women. He liked you; he really liked you. The only reason he swoops in is because he doesn’t want you with anyone who isn’t him, not because he doesn’t think you’re not capable… He dreams about how capable you can be. He just didn’t have the balls to say it to your face.

The thought of you not having any experience never even crossed his mind. He still had no clue you’d never been intimate with someone; he didn’t even know how inexperienced you were until the game. He watched and raised an unknowing brow each time you took a gulp.

Eddie took your keys from your hands and unlocked your front door for you. The whole car ride had been eerily silent. You didn’t dare speak a word without the threat of vomit coming up with it.

You silently stumbled into your home. Eddie followed closely behind. He helped you take off your sneakers. He led you to the bathroom and found some makeup wipes to help you take off your makeup, but halfway through, you turned to the toilet as the tequila made its way back up.

That’s when you broke; you were so embarrassed. “What’s wrong with me?” You cried.

“Nothing is wrong with you, swee-.” But he cut himself off, remembering that you scolded him earlier in the evening.

“Yes, there is something wrong with me! Nobody wants me.”

“That’s not true.” Eddie stroked the back of your head as you emptied out the contenders of your stomach into the porcelain bowl.

“Then why am I still a virgin?!” You sobbed.

Eddie was stunned, speechless. He had no idea. He just thought you didn’t like sharing your sex life, not that you didn’t have one.

So he let you cry into his chest. Your tears stained his shirt, but he didn’t care; he was here to take care of you.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” he guided you after he helped you ride your mouth out.

You crashed as soon as your head hit the pillow. Eddie thought of leaving but was worried you would need him if you woke up, so he took the couch.

You awoke with a throbbing pain pounding in your head. You were never drinking again. The night was murky; you started remembering bits and pieces but not everything. You get up and notice the bottle of painkillers and a glass of water you definitely didn’t put there.

Then you remembered Eddie bringing you home and let out an aggravated groan. How could you have been so messy? And in front of Eddie, out of all people? Why couldn’t Robin and Nancy bring you home? What did you say to him? Were you mean? Did you yell at him? You remember crying, but the reasoning was foggy.

You begrudgingly take the water and pills and almost gag, trying to get them down, but you manage. You also smell like a minibar, so you strip and walk to your bathroom.

After a long hot shower, you get dressed and must put some food into your empty stomach.

You walked past a sleeping Eddie, not seeing him curled up in the living room, and started noisily making yourself some breakfast.

“Is that the way you wake up all your guests?”

You screamed as you threw the fork you had in fright.

“Eddie, what the fuck?!” You clench your chest as you take big breaths to calm your racing heart.

“Sorry, Angel”

Angel… that’s new? It’s always been sweetheart.

“I didn’t know you stayed?”

“Yeah… you um. Were in pretty rough shape last night, I didn’t want you to be alone... so I slept in the couch. I hope that’s okay”

“Thank you, Eddie, I’m sorry I ruined your night.” You looked down, ashamed.

“You didn’t ruin it.” He shook his head.

“Well, I owe you one,” you giggle awkwardly. Eddie and you hardly ever hang out one-on-one.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like absolute shit.” You hand Eddie a black coffee.

“Yeah, well, you really went hard in that game of never have I ever.”

You met out a moan of embarrassment. Your memory came flooding back.

Mortification consumed you as you didn’t want to look Eddie in the eyes. You cried in his arms last night after you puked your guys out.

“Oh god”

“It’s okay, Angel. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“What happened to sweetheart?” You tried to change the subject.

“You said it was demeaning…”

“Oh god, I did?” You peek up and see Eddie silently nod his head yes.

“I’m sorry, it’s not… I like the nickname. I just…. I was feeling so emotional last night, and the alcohol.” You tried not to gag at the thought.

“S’all good.” He shrugged. But he was replaced to hear you liked being called sweetheart. It suited you; he didn’t call anyone else that, either. It was reserved just for you.

“Um, so about last night, you mentioned nobody wanting you….” Oh god, was he really doing this now? “I don’t think that’s true.” Yes, he was.

“Huh?” You sit up, taking a sip of your coffee.

“You cried about how you didn’t think anyone wanted you, but it’s not true… I want you.”

Did you hear that right? Did you get water in your ears from the shower?

“You do?” Your eyes widen.

“Yeah,” he looks at you sheepishly.

“Oh?” You were in shock.

“Shit-I-I’m sorry, I ruined everything.” Eddie stood up, but you stood up with him, not wanting him to leave.

“No, Eddie, wait!” You grab his shoulder and turn him to face you. You couldn’t let him leave, not now.

“Sweeetheart, please let me be mortified in peace.”

“Kiss me.”

Eddie stares at you before you tell him one more time.

“Kiss me, Eddie.”

Then you feel his hands grip the back of your head and pull you in.

You didn’t think anything could cure your hangover but this comes pretty damn close.

You melt into his touch, his hands cup your head, your hands find his waist. It feels right, so right you think you’re floating.

No one had kissed you in what felt like years, and maybe it had been, but it was worth the wait.

Hands danced around one another’s bodies, and tongues and teeth clashed. It was messy; it was needy.

“Woah woah woah, sweetheart, hold on.” Eddie pulled back breathlessly.

“What’s wrong?” You look up at him, concerned…. Had he changed his mind?

“I think we should slow down.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay. We have time.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I’ve waited long enough.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t think—"

"No! I need this, I want this." You look him dead in the eyes.

"You tell me if you want to stop, okay? Promise me."

"Okay, Eddie."

Eddie waists, not another second to take you in a feverish kiss. His hands roam your body, landing on your ass. It excites you so much you can feel the familiar tingling ruminating lower and lower.

You moan his name and press your whole body into his; you need to feel him, all of him… and you can. His hard cock is digging into your hip bone, and you connect your bodies.

Stumbling back without breaking the kiss, Eddie leads you to your bedroom. You fall backwards onto your bed with a gasp.

hovering above you is Eddie. You can see the lust behind his eyes as he scans your body.

"If im doing anything you don't like, tell me. This is about you, okay?"

“Okay,” you breathe as he lowers down to his knees. You watch his hands run up the tops of your thighs before spreading them wider so he can have access to where he wants you the most.

Running his fingers down your centre, you can’t help but moan at the feeling. You are greedy; you want to feel everything all at once.

Wasting no more time, you pull down the stretchy waistband of your pants and yank your underwear down with it. No time to be self-conscious- the need to feel Eddie fueled your desire.

“Beautiful,” Eddie whispered as he left a trail of kisses up your thigh, hovering just above your mound.

“Can I taste you?”

“Yes, please. Take care of me, I want it so bad,” You whine desperately. If you weren’t so horny, you’d be embarrassed by your words, but with Eddie, everything felt right.

Eddie’s lips latched into your soaked pussy, and you watched as his eyes rolled back in enjoyment. He didn’t hold back; he wanted this to be the best head of your life, even if it’s the only head of your life. You grip his hair in your fist, not expecting the pleasure to ripple through you so quickly.

“Taste so good, sweetheart; I wanna live in this pussy.”

“Oh god!” You cry as a single digit breaches your wanton hole.

Slowly, with his tongue and his finger pumping into you, you’re nearly there. Considering how long you’ve waited for this moment, it doesn't take much more. You’re cumming within minutes.

“Good girl, you okay?” he slaps the inside of your thigh and your body jerks.

“More,” you beg. It wasn’t enough; nothing would be able to satiate you until his cock was deep inside you.

“You sure? We can stop if you’re not ready”

“Need you now.” You grab him by the shirt collar and pull him towards you for a searing kiss.

“Okay,” he mumbles into your mouth, crawling up your body.

You loved the feel of his weight on top of you, consuming you with every kiss.

“Want you, Eddie” you moan as your hands toy with the hem of his shirt.

“You have me.” He dips his head lower to caress your throat with his lips.

Your breath hitches when you feel his teeth scrape across your soft, delicate skin.

Eddie didn’t lift his head until he was satisfied with the dark mark left on your neck.

When he unlatched from your throat, you demanded he take his clothes off.

Eddie loved your eagerness; he saw a spunk in you that he could only have dreamed of.

You also removed the rest of your clothing as he stripped.

When Eddie removed his last layer over his head, he couldn’t help but ogle your body, the way your head sunk into the pillows, your breasts, your soaked pussy on display for him. He was devouring you with his eyes.

You motion him to you with a single finger, breaking him out of the trace you put him under.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Eddie was like a feline the way he crawled up on the bed to you.

The heat rushed to your cheeks; somehow, this felt more intimate than what he was doing between your legs a moment ago.

“I want you,” you repeat yourself.

Eddie cups your face, and you cup his in return. His eyes bore into your soul, leaving not a trace unturned as he searched your entire being before kissing you one more.

You moan into his mouth, and Eddie’s cock grazes your mound collecting your slick as his hips ground into you.

“Ready?” He asked desperately; he needed to be inside of you.

“Yes.”

He quickly got up and you moaned,

“What are you?- oh,” you blush

You see him reach for his pants pocket for his wallet as he pulls out a condom.

Quickly he rips it open, and your mouth waters as he rolls it over his cock. This is the first time you’re seeing what he looks like down there, and you’re getting nervous because how is that supposed to fit?

“Sweetheart? You'll be okay.” He smirks.

Cocky, shit.

“If I have to ask you again, I’m going to do this myself.” You huffed.

“Oh really? How do you suppose that?” He pounced back on top of you.

“I have my toys.”

Eddie’s head drops back. “We will get back to that later. Now I’m going to fuck you.”

“Finally”

Eddie doesn’t respond. He just slowly slides his cock through your slick folds collecting your natural lube before inching his way inside of you.

“I need you to relax, sweetheart.” You naturally clench around him. He was so tickled and long. Never had you felt so full, but little did you know Eddie was only a quarter-way in.

“Fuck you’re big,” you gasp.

“No need to stroke my ego, baby girl”

That made your pussy clench down again.

“Oh, you like that?”

You nod your head, yes, unable to speak.

“Noted”

You could kill him if he wasn’t making you feel so good.

“Eddie!” You scream as he finally reaches the hilt, gripping him like a koala you don’t want to let go.

“Fuck, this pussy is so tight” Eddie slowly works his hips in and out of you; with each thrust, you can feel his bush brush against your clit, and it sends a tingle down your spine.

You moan in response; everything feels like it is on fire; never had you expected this level of sex. No wonder everyone is obsessed with it.

“Harder”

“You sure”

“Yes, god yes!”

Eddie's hips snap into you with such force your head almost hits the headboard. The bed is rocking; you have never experienced something so wanted, so needed, so absolutely taken over by someone else.

“Eddie! Eddie! Eddie!” You chant his name, which only makes him go harder. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping you so hard, not ever wanting to let you go.

“Fuck me, this pussy s'good.” He spits through his teeth. His primal side is showing, and you can't get enough.

Nothing can again amount to this amount of pleasure; you're ruined for life.

"You close, baby girl?" Edie smirks when he feels you clamp don't on his cock when he spits out the words.

A guttural moan is unleashed from your throat in response because, god, you're so close.

The pressure building inside of you is about to burst as Eddie's calloused fingers find your sensitive clit.

"Come on baby, I know you gotta another one for me. I know you do."

Eddies words tipped you over the edge. Your body seized as his thick cock continued to pump into your greedy pussy. Your orgasm took over, and Eddie watched you silently scream for him.

Before you became overstimulated, Eddie also came shortly after, only a few more pumps, and he spilled himself into the condom.

With Eddie beside you huffing and puffing, you couldn't wipe the stupid grin off your face.

"That good, huh?"

"I don't want to stroke your ego, but yeah... fuck me" You hid your face.

"I just did." Eddie rolled over to kiss all over your face and you can't help but giggle.

"I hope we can do that again," you shy away.

"Oh, we are one thousand percent doing that again. "

Tagging some mooties: @littlexdeaths @xxbimbobunnyxx @voyeurmunson @rowanswriting @lofaewrites

@starkeysprincess @strangerstilinski @taintedcigs @mmunson86 @paybacksawitch @stardancerluv

#Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson x female reader #Eddie Munson x virgin!reader #Eddie Munson imagine

2K notes · View notes

notjustjavierpena · 20 days

Text

(Mid)summer Loving

Main Masterpost

A/N: Yes, based on that new picture. I’ll call this my first contribution to getting railed in a sundress season.

Summary: The last two years of being with Joel has transformed the both of you. Mostly him. For the better.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, joel’s kink is being loved and appreciated, long haired joel!!!, healthy joel, established relationship, piv sex, size kink (it's big), rough, loud and desperate sex, dirty talk, praise kink, creampie, railed in a sundress season contribution, they are so soft for each other, bit of aftercare.

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55988128

(Mid)summer Loving

It happens when you hear him through the crowd of people in the community center. Your head whips in his direction, your eyes settling on the crinkles around his eyes as he laughs at something Tommy has said to him. He swirls the whiskey in his glass and downs it with slight difficulty because he is still smiling.

You are only a table away, sitting with some of the women from your patrol group who gossip about potential suitors in the room, especially amongst the newcomers. However, you don’t really pay attention to what is being said because the love of your life sits across from you. It makes you able to admire him, struck by his transformation since he first came to Jackson and barged into your life. Your heart is so soft for him.

The most obvious change is the hair. It’s gotten longer, the ends curling slightly in a way that softens his otherwise rugged appearance of big leather boots and tripled layered clothing. He used to have it shorter, and while you loved its fluffy bounce on top of his head whenever it was caught in the wind, it doesn’t compare to how it now frames his face by just brushing his collar in the back. It may be a subtle shift to others but to you, it means that Joel is more at ease with who and where he is, and that he has allowed change to find him.

His beard, too, has filled out. It is now thick and even, not at all the patchy scruff that you noticed the first time he talked to you by the rag pile in the trading center. He’d searched for fabric that could be used for shining the creations that he makes when seeking respite in wood carving. You had noticed the patch that resembled a heart first, your own heart skipping a beat as you forced yourself not to point it out to him immediately. That patch is gone but you’ll spend no time mourning it when the result is Joel looking healthier than ever, almost as if his body has responded to happiness with you by filling in all the gaps that heartbreak had left.

Then there’s his face. It glows, despite his age, with a newfound youth, the signs of weariness and stress of years lived too hard it once bore completely wiped away. When you first met him, your heart had ached for his tired eyes, bags underneath them revealing all the sleepless nights and the burdens that he carried. The way they shine when they look into yours has your heart at ease and you can only hope he feels the same.

Around you, the women keep chatting, talking animatedly and giggling while you sip your drink and stay silent until they are nothing but a low hum in the background.

You only snap out of it when your name is said out loud. You furrow your brow, “Sorry?”

“I said that you don’t have to worry about things like this,” one of them chirps happily, “You already got your man.”

“Guess not, guess you’re right,” you chuckle softly and start to feel shy. You have never been one to be glaringly obvious in your happiness to the point where you display it at every opportunity but then Joel came along. He may worry about the gap of years between the two of you, often feeling undeserving of your love and attention but you only wish that he could see himself from your point of view. To you, he is everything. He doesn’t see how his presence calms and grounds you, how he makes you feel safe even in a world beyond repair. In his embrace, you feel even the biggest of anxieties and the worst of your challenges shrink into nothing. All he has to do is put his gentle, calloused hands on you and talk to you in that familiar southern drawl, and then your mind quiets down instantaneously.

However, if not his hands or his voice, his loving gaze also seems to do the trick. He suddenly turns his head in your direction, catching your eyes, and the sound of the lively conversations from each table mutes to nothing. He smiles at you and mouths a ‘you okay?’ at you.

‘Save me’ you decide to mouth back at him, making a face to see him smile with amusement. He slaps his brother’s back before putting both hands on the table to push himself to stand. You didn’t think he would take it seriously but just the sight of seeing him approach you makes you want to go home with him.

“Ready to go, honey?” He asks when he reaches your table, placing a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezing.

“Hi Joel,” your friend group says in unison.

“Ladies,” he nods and they giggle like schoolgirls, “Gotta get this one home.”

You shake your head with a little smile at their reaction. Then you swing your legs over the side of the chair. Joel helps you up and a moment after having said your goodnights, you leave together like you’ve done for a few years now.

Outside, people are scattered across the town square where a huge bonfire has been erected in the spot where the Christmas tree usually stands. Today is the annual midsummer celebration. Jackson is decorated with bundles of flowers that have replaced the painted eggs that tell people it is Easter. You smile at the memory of Ellie having been forced to join in on getting people in the spirit of Easter which had resulted in you trying to guess which of the eggs hanging from the sky had been crafted by the angry teen. You had decided that it might’ve been the one painted completely black.

Now, bright colors from nature hover above your head instead as you make your way down the main road. Joel holds your hand all the way home. He strokes the back of it with his thumb, feeling no pressure to fill up the silence between you as it has reached a point where it is comfortable.

When you reach your shared house, Joel stops you by the front door instead of opening it for you in the gentlemanly way he always does. He stands in front of you, the porch light softening his features as he gazes at you.

“You seemed a bit distracted with your friends tonight,” he notes, “Is everythin’ alright?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am,” you answer with a smile, your voice sincere, “To have you.”

“I’m the lucky one, baby,” Joel huffs out a little laugh of disbelief, trying to brush off how flattered he always feels each time you say things like this. He gathers your hand in both of his, lifting it to kiss the back of it a few times, “Best fuckin’ thing that ever happened after the world ended.”

“Don’t let Ellie hear that,” you tease gently. In your chest, your heart hammers against your ribs from being loved by him.

“I’d never dream of it,” he steps closer with his eyes burning to get closer to you. You see them darken slightly as desire fills them and your heart jumps into your throat at the realization of what he wants.

You.

He wants you.

That’s the one thing that has also changed since you met him; he has become much more untameable when he has you around. Who knew that his stamina was so impressive? Who knew that Joel Miller getting a confession of love - whether it consisted of the actual words or simply was said in your actions - would have him dragging you to somewhere private as soon as possible?

“I love you, Joel Miller,” you say dreamily, pulling the trigger, “To the day that I die.”

And then suddenly Joel rips the door open so roughly that you’re afraid it might come off its hinges, pulls you inside along with him and slams it shut behind the both of you afterward. He locks it without hesitation, not about to be interrupted by any of your neighbors even if it’s most likely that everyone is out and about the town to be social.

You are pressed up against the door next, his broad hands resting on your hips as he holds you against it. He bunches up the skirt of your sundress, groping your sides on top of the fabric, and you sling an arm around his back. Your other arm reaches up so you can cup the back of his head, your fingers sliding into the hair there. He has the perfect length for pulling these days - you should know - but you’ll wait for the right moment.

His lips nearly bruise yours with how hard he kisses you, beard scratching your skin as he practically eats at your mouth to the point where your head swims and your belly swirls with hours of suppressed desire. You need him now, already soaked through your underwear and ready for him to be inside of you.

“Fuck me,” you whine against his lips, heart beating rapidly in your chest. So much that your breathing is already uneven, “Please, Joel, please.”

“S’alright, baby, I know whatcha need,” he rasps as his lips messily start descending on your chin, all the way across your jaw until his mouth attaches to your throat. You let your head bump against the door with a breathy moan, giving him access to bruise your neck too. He creates a purple mark that you will try to hide tomorrow during patrol to avoid interrogation on how Joel Miller is in bed. Only you can know.

Your skirt falls down the slight amount it has been pulled up when Joel goes to unbuckle his leather belt. The noise of the metal sends a shiver through you, anticipation rising to your cheeks by heating them up underneath no touch. You look down to see the belt hanging open, him shoving the denim down around his thighs afterward and following up with his briefs too.

The sight of his cock makes your mouth water. He is fully hard already, standing into the air at full attention and threatening to smear your pretty dress with his precome by poking into your belly if he dares get closer. You moan pathetically and he shushes you gently.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothes you like he would a child that has scraped their knee. He curls his fingers in the fabric of your dress once more before hiking it up along your thighs until he can stuff the bottom of the skirt into the top of your dress, effectively holding it up so it doesn’t fall down over your soaked panties again.

You grab at the sides of your underwear to shimmy out of them but Joel doesn’t exercise enough patience to wait for you to step out of them, so he hooks his fingers into the front. He finds your eyes when he feels how wet the cotton fabric is, doesn’t directly say anything about it but just shows you how full-blown his pupils are at the realization. Without warning, he yanks your panties to the side.

Satisfied with his work, he makes you gasp as he bends his knees to reach down and splay his strong hands on the back of your thighs. He lifts you off the ground and wraps you around him, pressing his knee into the door to hold you up while guiding his throbbing cock into you. You moan desperately at the initial sting, brows furrowing with slight pain as he sheaths himself inside of you to the hilt.

“Oh my God,” you whimper, letting his name fall from your lips in a helpless chant as he pulses from how your walls choke him as you strain to take him like you always do in the beginning. He might just split you open right here in the hallway when he starts fucking you.

“Shh, you can take it,” he whispers with the most brutally gentle peck on your zipped lips, “It’s okay. She knows it’s big, baby, but she can take it. I always fuck ya real good, don’t I?”

You nod helplessly, and fuck you, he does. It’s fast and hard and dirty. The poor wooden door rattles alongside the jingle of his belt buckle with each slam of his hips, the doorknob painfully gnawing into your lower back, and you fear the fabric of your underwear will snap from the strain that is put on it as it sits to the side. Sometimes you think you might even cut a hole in some of your pairs with how often Joel, still two years later, rushes to get his cock into you. There’s something oddly satisfying and offensive about just being able to bend over and let him see that all he has to do is push in.

“That’s it, look at me, baby, such a good girl f’me,” he praises to get you back to him, not here to lose your attention to the way his cock feels inside of your tight heat. Your eyes settle on him again, your mouth hanging open to elicit pathetic gasps each time he knocks the wind out of you by driving his hips up into you and effectively pounding your g-spot. His face is so close to you; you can feel his breath and share it with him, can study every little imperfection in the form of tiny scars and dark lines that you hadn’t been able to see earlier from your seat a few tables over.

“Joel,” you pant, digging your heels into the small of his back, clinging on desperately and angling your hips as he has his way with you. The slight adjustment has him going deeper, touching something inside of you that ignites the first sparks of an orgasm. Your nails claw, dig and scratch at his back in ways that would have been enough to draw blood if he wasn’t wearing a shirt, “Fuck, baby! Don’t— ngh, don’t stop.”

“You feel so good,” he replies with a groan, most likely powering through the exhaustion and strain on his body to make you feel even better. He is everywhere on you, his hands on your thighs, gripping and squeezing. He is everywhere in you too, his cock twitching inside of you each time you cry his name.

“I’m—“ you sob.

“Let go, baby, I can feel ya,” he growls when you dance around the edge of your orgasm because your fingers on both hands tangle into his beautifully chocolate hair, yanking harshly as impending pleasure knocks the breath out of your lungs. Your skin burns, your whole system halts and goes into overdrive at the same time until all you can do is shout silently at the ceiling. Your walls clench in mind-altering ecstasy then and your quietness is over, replaced by a relieved whine as you come on his dick. It is intense from how fast you’ve gotten there since he entered you, your body writhing as it is held against the wall. He fucks you through it, has you wailing as he chases his own high.

You cradle his head during his last few thrusts, feeling his damp breath against your shoulder as he buries himself inside of your spent cunt and comes hard. It feels so good when he groans as he fills you up, the sound vibrating through his entire body. You whimper at the ceiling with the way he pulses deliciously with each breathy moan until he has no more to give you.

He leans all his weight into you as he comes down again, holding you in place with his chest against yours to make sure that you won’t fall down and drag him with you. He gives you a moment and places a string of lazy kisses on your lips until he slips out of you with a soft sound.

Carefully, he places you back down on the floor and eyes you as he does it to be certain you won’t collapse. He moves off of you when it feels safe to do so.

“I say it back?” He asks as he leans against the door with you. Automatically, you tilt your head towards him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, turning his head a second later to fully look at your disheveled state. You have a hand on your chest to calm your breathing but it still matches your fluttering heartbeat. He still aches between your legs.

You look back at him, awaiting his words with short breaths, “Say what?”

He makes a gesture to the both of you, “Before what we just did happened. I tell ya that I love you too?”

“No?” Your reply is almost a question.

“Shame on me,” he smiles and turns his whole body so that he faces you completely, shoulder against the door. His eyes soften as he reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch is nice when the sweat has started to cool you down, and you lean into his palm, feeling the roughness of his calloused skin against you.

“Shame on me, indeed,” he murmurs, eyes on your slightly open mouth, “Because I do love ya. More than I can understand sometimes.”

“You don’t have to say it back every time, Joel. I know,” you try to brush off how much your body and mind buzz at the same time.

He shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving your mouth, “No, I do needa say it. You deserve to hear it. I love you.”

You nod and reach to hold his wrist when he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your open mouth. Just a few minutes ago, the now-careful hands had been rough on your skin and his words had dripped with sin.

“Now, how ‘bout I take you to bed?” He asks and pulls your dress’ skirt out of the top, watching it tumble down and fall back into place around your knees.

While you wait for him to get dressed again, fatigue seems to finally have caught up with you because you feel like you might collapse in your hallway at that suggestion. When it’s safe to do so, you let yourself fall into his arms and he catches you without hesitation.

He scoops you up, goes upstairs with you in his arms, undresses you, washes you down with a warm flannel, and gets you into bed. You curl up on your side and after a while, after hearing his boots come off and the shuffling of clothes, the bed dips from his weight.

The warmth of his body against your back lulls you to sleep. Oh, how simply he loves you. Forever doesn’t seem like a lot to ask for.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us

2K notes · View notes

rynwritesreid · 2 months

Text

I like the way you kiss me| Spencer Reid

A/N: So, I haven’t written smut in a good while, but I hope this okay. It’s defo romantic, but I promise soon there will be some good angst.

Summary: Spencer is nervous about being in a relationship with you, because of what his friends would think and the age gap you two had. But when it comes down to it, all that matters to him, is you.

Content: Smut 18+. Fluff. Fem!reader. Use of nicknames (just princess). oral(R!receiving). PinV.

Masterlist| request are open| navigation

Spencer Reid knew dating you was playing with fire. You were younger, and you had never been in a serious relationship. Spencer knew if his friends found out about the two of you, he would never hear the end of it. But when he was with you, he didn’t care, all he could think about was you.

He couldn't resist the way your eyes lit up when you talked about anything you loved, or how your pupils dilated when you were looking at him, or how you laughed when he told any joke. He was infatuated with you, although he knew he should never have got attached to you.

But despite the risks, Spencer couldn't deny the pull he felt towards you. As he watched you across the table, he couldn't help but smile at the way you crinkled your nose when you were deep in thought. Your passion for life was infectious, and he found himself getting lost in the sparkle of your eyes.

Maybe he loved you, or maybe he loved the idea of you, but he didn’t care. He enjoyed been around someone who saw life as colourful and bright, rather than how he saw it and how the majority of everyone he knew saw it.

But if Spencer was to ever admit what he truly liked about you, he enjoyed the way you kissed him. How every kiss you gave him was memorable. He could tell with every kiss you missed him when he wasn’t around, you cared about him and that he was the last person you thought about as you drifted asleep.

As the night grew late and the restaurant began to empty, Spencer realised he couldn't keep pretending that what they had was just a casual fling. He needed to admit to himself that he was falling for you, hard and fast. The way your hand felt in his, the sound of your laughter filling his ears, it was all too much to ignore.

"I can't keep pretending that you don't mean everything to me," Spencer whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You make life worth living. Whenever I see your name flash across my screen, or every time I remember your face, I want to kiss you.”

“Spencer Reid as romantic, who could have imagined.” You chuckled, you felt the same way, but you could never put it into such words. “I feel the same way. I want to be yours.”

“You’ll always be mine. You are perfect for me, and I am, well perfect for you.” Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your lips, feeling the weight of his confession lifting off his shoulders. In that moment, surrounded by the fading chatter of the restaurant and the gentle glow of the streetlights outside, Spencer knew that he had found something rare and precious with you. As your fingers intertwined with his, he couldn't help but smile, a genuine, unguarded expression of happiness spreading across his face.

Spencer flagged down a taxi, he couldn’t wait to get you home. The taxi pulled up to the curb, and Spencer held the door open for you, a small smile playing on his lips. The city lights glimmered in your eyes as you settled into the backseat, his hand finding yours instinctively. The ride home was filled with comfortable silence, the air crackling with unspoken words and promises.

Once the taxi had arrived outside his apartment, he leaped out and open the door for you. “A real gentleman you’ve got there.” The taxi driver smiled, giving you a knowing look as you stepped out onto the sidewalk. Spencer chuckled softly, a hint of colour rising to his cheeks at the driver's comment. Escorting you up to his apartment, he couldn't shake the feeling of contentment that settled over him like a warm blanket.

Once you were in the comfort of his apartment, he grabbed your face and pulled it closer to his. He gazed into your eyes, seeing a reflection of his own desires and emotions staring back at him. Without uttering a single word, he closed the distance between your lips, kissing you with a fervour that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you. In that moment, nothing else in the world mattered to Spencer except for the connection he shared with you.

As the kiss deepened, a wave of passion and longing swept over the both of you, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and desire. Spencer's hands moved gently to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly as if to reassure himself that you were real and not just a figment of his imagination.

Maybe it was out of instinct, but Spencer moved his hands down the back of your dress and felt the smooth fabric beneath his fingertips. His fingers found the top of the zipper and he slowly started pulling down, while his mouth found its way to your neck.

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips brushed against your skin, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. “You are beyond beautiful.” Spencer gently whispered against your skin; his breath warm against your neck.

Spencer's fingers traced a delicate path along your spine as he slowly lowered the zipper of your dress, his touch felt like feathers dancing along your skin. Every nerve in your body felt alive and electrified under his gentle caress, and you couldn't suppress the soft gasp that escaped your lips.

His lips found yours once more, the kiss deep and hungry, filled with a raw intensity that threatened to consume you both. Lost in the heady rush of desire, you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as if trying to fuse your very souls together.

Spencer was never the kind of man to hurry into get you naked, he liked taking it slowly, savouring every moment and committing it to memory. His hands moved with purpose, but also with a tenderness that spoke volumes about the depth of his feelings for you. As the dress slipped off your shoulders and pooled at your feet, Spencer's eyes roamed over your exposed skin, drinking in every curve and contour as if committing them to memory.

“I don’t how I ever got so lucky.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes filled with a mixture of adoration and desire. Spencer guided you towards the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. In the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, tonight felt more romantic, more intimate.

Spencer gently laid you on his bed, his gaze never wavering from yours. The room was imbued with a sense of intimacy and affection, as if every object bore witness to the love shared between you and Spencer. His fingers traced delicate patterns across your skin.

Though Spencer was still fully clothed, you didn’t feel vulnerable, you felt loved and adored. You felt as if Spencer was your biggest fan. But Spencer, been the gentleman he is, wasn’t going to allow you to be the only one naked. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, revealing the expanse of his chest as he shed the fabric, every movement deliberate and filled with a silent promise.

As his shirt fell to the floor, Spencer lowered himself onto the bed beside you, his body radiating heat and a quiet intensity. His mouth left a trail of kissed down your body, igniting a trail of fire along your skin as he worshipped every inch of you with his lips and tongue. Each touch was a testament to his adoration, a silent vow of devotion that echoed through the room.

His lips started moving down your body, his lips finding your nipples and gently sucking them, his tongue flicking over them. But they weren’t the centre of his focus, because if Spencer was one thing, he was giving. He loved hearing you moan for him, how you complete surrendered yourself to him. He enjoyed knowing he had ruined anyone else for you, because he knew you the best, he knew what made you squirm. He wasn’t usually the type of man who wanted to ‘own’ something, but you were different. He had always wanted you for himself, even if at the start he was nervous.

His hands moved lower, caressing your hips, your thighs, his fingers dipping into you, the warmth of your body accepting him wholeheartedly. He felt you tremble under his touch, your body responding to his every move, and he felt a surge of power and desire within him.

Your breathing quickened, every gasp and moan a testament to the pleasure that was building within you. Spencer's eyes met yours, the fire in your eyes mirrored in his own. He knew then that this was more than just a physical connection, it was a soul-deep bond that took his breath away.

He paused, the tip of his finger hovering over your sensitive spot, teasing you. You knew what you wanted, and you could tell that Spencer knew it too. He smiled, a warm and genuine smile that made your heart flutter.

"Please," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Please, what princess?” Spencer teasingly asked, stroking your inner thigh with his fingers.

You swallowed hard; your desperation clear in your eyes.

“Use your words.” He insisted, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I need you,” you whispered hoarsely, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

His lips were soon on your clit, his tongue plunging inside you, tasting you, exploring you. Your body arched beneath him, a silent plea for him to keep going, to never stop. And he obliged, his tongue darting in and out of you, his fingers working in perfect rhythm, driving you higher and higher until you finally shattered apart underneath him. You came with a cry, your body convulsing beneath his, and he felt the wave of your release wash over him, taking him to a place of pure ecstasy.

As your body relaxed, he pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours, his face a picture of pure satisfaction. He moved up beside you, his hands steadily exploring your body, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck.

But Spencer was far from done. He knew exactly what you needed; he could read your body like an open book.

Spencer slowly slid inside you, feeling the walls of your body cling to him like a force of nature. He moved slowly at first, savouring every moment of the connection that flowed between them. Your body arched towards him, eager to feel him deep inside, seeking the completion of a desire that had been building for so long.

As he thrust deeper, Spencer's eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of the moment making your heart race and your breath quicken. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your body craving the warmth and connection.

He picked up the pace, each stroke more fervent than the last, the sounds of your breath and his groans filling the room. The air was thick with desire and the scent of your arousal, heightening the passion between you.

Your hips met his with each thrust, matching his rhythm and pulling him deeper into you. Every movement felt more intense, every touch more electric. In that moment, you and Spencer became one, moving as one, feeling as one.

Your fingers dug into his back, pulling him closer, every sensation heightening, every touch becoming more intense. Spencer's breathing was ragged, mirroring yours. The room was alive with the sound of your bodies moving in a primal dance, lost in each other's eyes.

Your breathing became higher pitched, signalling your orgasm was coming. You arched your back, your head falling back as you screamed his name. Spencer felt the walls of your pussy clenching tighter around him, and he knew that he was going to cum too.

He thrust harder, feeling the heat of your body engulfing him, taking him over the edge. His orgasm was explosive, shooting wave after wave of pleasure through his body. He held you close, his lips pressed against your neck, his breath still ragged with desire.

Spencer collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, his face flushed with exertion and desire. You lay there, breathing heavily, your bodies still connected. Spencer gently stroked your hair, his expression filled with love and affection. "You are my everything," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “And I can’t wait to tell the world about you.”

~join my taglist~

~taglist~

@iluvreid @nomajdetective @drspencieee@katieeeee314@evvy96 @oliviah-25 @starkid024 @emalynvtgtgfhvgg @krokietino @xohoneybun @spencerreidwifeee@purplepistachi0 @pleasantwitchgarden @bitchassbecky691 @piperb400@queermaxwooo @gemofthenight @luvpiercethekaty@anna-belle-xd@catsareawesomek@drreidsfavwhxre@oureternalbond@beth-gallagher22 @keiva1000 @k3nzxx@lookingforgodintheclouds @firstunmannedflyingdeskset @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @r-3dlips @keiva1000 @peppersapro @just-a-harmless-patato @spenxerslut @skulliecadaver-blog@svnfully@reidsgirlhottie@amethysssssst@bluepuppethidinginafilingcabinet@lover-of-books-and-tea @Indigosamsblog@jem08 @ladylincoln @khxna @Kimm4710@Karenfranco

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

1K notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 14 days

Text

do you believe me now? | 6

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader are finally honest with each other. complete with tears and more than a few make-up kisses.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: angst but mostly fluff, i think this qualifies as hurt/comfort, HHEHHEHHEH, lots of kissing, so cheesy, you jokingly imply he's a slut, i need him expeditiously a/n: thank you guys for being patient with me!! ilysm!! i edited this until i hated it but i hope it's satisfactory for YOU guys..... as always please please let me know what you think!! and i already started the next part hehehe

The car ride is the worst of your life.

Neither of you speak.

And you find yourself wishing, pleading to god that one of you will say something to fix this—but each minute ticks by and the streets get familiar and a quiet song ends and you realize you were silly to ever think a twenty minute car ride would change anything.

Spencer was the luckiest you’d ever been and your relationship is floating away like a balloon you forgot to hold on to—nothing more than a red dot lost to the vast blue.

Maybe for him it’s easier. You’re pretty sure it is, as you risk one or two glances at his unreadable profile that turn into lingering, obsessive looks because you’re panicking and realizing you’ll maybe never see him this close again. It’s funny and terrible how quickly you’re remembering what it was like to see him at the coffee shop for the first time—how he was nothing but a beautiful stranger, completely unknown to you and worlds away. Now you’ve had him, sort of, and you’re turning into the girl who could never have him all over again.

When he turns onto your street reality begins to sink in. Your heart is a short fuse inside your chest as he pulls into a spot and parks the car. The rumble of the engine cuts. The headlights stay on.

For a moment, everything is quiet. You wish you could insert your own reality into the silence—one where you’re simply enjoying each other’s company and there’s no sense of impending doom to take your breath away.

“Do you want to talk?” Spencer asks, looking pointedly ahead where the lights shine off the back of some other person’s car. A wayward moth dips and swirls into the high beams. You watch Spencer track it with his eyes.

“I’m not sure what to say,” you admit quietly. The weight of everything you’d like to say sits in your stomach like lead, too heavy to divulge. It’s only been a few weeks of having to carry the truth around with you and your muscles are already fatiguing. The idea of carrying it around indefinitely makes your eyes sting. You’re already exhausted.

Maybe a stronger person would find that last bit of energy to make a final push, to save the relationship just before it falls apart.

But you never claimed to be strong.

Deep down, you must’ve known you weren’t ready for a real relationship. You can’t handle all of this pretending to be okay with things that hurt. Even if that's the grown-up thing to do.

“I tried. I really did, I’m sorry—I’m—”

Before you can get the words out your throat tightens around them and you bury your face in your hands.

The sound of his seatbelt unlocking and whirring back surprises you—but you’re even more surprised when he undoes yours. Still, you move your arm so it can snap back into place and then he’s pulling you into him.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, one hand on the back of your head as you lean over the small gap between the seats, unable to stop yourself from shedding more tears. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry.

For not loving you?

If it’s not your fault he doesn’t love you back—then whose fault is it? Who’ll take the fall?

But still, he’s holding you so carefully, like you’re made of porcelain. Something to be protected. Or at the very least, something to be mourned even after it’s in pieces.

As you lean against him, lulled by the slow in and out of his breath, the inverse of yours, and the way he slips his thumb over the back of your hair in silence for a few minutes—you wonder what’s missing. Why he’s not satisfied.

“I don’t understand you.”

The words come out flat, muffled by his coat, garbled with leftover tears.

“What was that?” Spencer asks gently, still playing with your hair. You sniffle, adjusting your head so your cheek is to his shoulder and your lips are no longer smushed.

“I just… I want you to explain it to me.”

“Explain what?”

You sit up just enough to meet his eyes. The movement seems to take him by surprise, but he keeps his hands on you—one slipping to your cheek and the other still loyal to your back. He brushes his fingers over the delicate skin beneath your eye and you cover them with your own in an effort to get him to stop treating you so kindly. But even now, when you’re mad at him for being so gentle in the way that he hurts you, you can’t help but seek the familiar callus on the side of his trigger finger. It’s an odd thing to anticipate missing, but you’ll miss all of him. You can’t imagine holding a hand without that familiar anomaly—a cairn to show you where he’s been and who you’re holding.

He curls his warm hand around yours and you hold your joined fist out for him in emphasis, speaking louder than either of you were prepared for.

“This! You! I understand that we don’t feel the same way about each other and maybe I can’t change that. But then you do this and I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why this isn’t enough for you, because it’s enough for me, and I just—I don’t know what else I can give you. I don’t know what else there is. I don’t understand why I’m not... enough.” The tears are back and flowing freely, but you forge breathlessly ahead, because you’ve finally found a way to be honest and you’re not going to stop now. Spencer is frowning, lips parted and clearly confused or shocked or something, but you continue your confessional before he has the chance to interrupt. “I want to be enough, but you didn’t even give me the chance, and I don’t think it’s fair that we’re breaking up when you didn’t let me try. Maybe if you just told me, if you explained what’s missing I could fix it and you could love me back, and—please. I just want to try. Please, Spencer.”

A car engine revs somewhere far away, echoing down the street. It reverberates for several seconds, unimpeded by any other noise. Any word, any breath.

His voice is thin when he responds a moment later, still studying your face with a kind of scrutiny that is so indecipherable you don’t know how you expect him to respond.

“Love you back?”

You blink.

Your stomach drops.

For all that you’d revealed, for all that you’d willingly humiliated yourself with your pathetic supplication—you’d meant to keep that four letter word to yourself.

What a way to make an exit from your relationship.

Spencer is still looking at you, keeping you pinned to your seat, and as much as you wish it wasn’t the case he’s not going to let you off the hook this time. He’s going to demand an answer, and you have a 0% chance of bursting into mist before you have to provide an explanation, so you have no choice but to say something.

What, exactly, you’re going to say—you don’t know.

“I didn’t…”

“You didn’t mean it.”

The response comes so quickly, sharp as a slap, that you jump back slightly, a deep frown twisting your brow. Spencer makes no effort to keep his hand in yours as you slip from his grasp.

“That’s not what I was—”

“Just say what you mean.” Silence. “Tell me.”

It’s like he’s got an ice pick to your chest. It’s like he wants you to humiliate yourself even further, to punish you for your messy indiscretions.

“Spencer…”

It’s a warning. You’re giving him a chance to stop this before he hurts you sadistically. Before he becomes unrecognizable.

He swallows.

“Please.” And then, a second later, when you’re still trying to process the quiet pain in his voice and suddenly faced with the unexpected question of who is hurting who, “please, just… tell me if you meant it.”

For the first time tonight, you notice how exhausted he looks. Slightly gaunt, even paler than usual. Shadows pool deeper in the hollows of his face. His eyes look glossy, dark crescents below awaiting to catch tears you realize you’ve never seen fall. The tonal shift has you so disoriented, so out of your body like you’re seeing yourself in his own injuries—the truth becomes the only humane answer. Even if it hurts you.

“Yes. I meant it. You know I mean it.”

“I don’t know that,” he says on a shaky exhale. “How would I know that?”

And he’s got the ice pick back at your sternum. It’s tipped in poison. The mallet trembles in the air. So does your voice.

“You told me you didn’t feel the same. You said it was new for me and different and I was going to make things complicated and you treated me like I was a stupid kid, and—and it doesn’t even matter. This was dumb. I’m sorry I said anything, I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing. I just.. I can’t do this.”

You’re about to open the door, every muscle tense as you wonder what the hell is wrong with you. What reduced you to the weepy, pathetic girl, begging a boy to love her despite knowing it doesn’t work like that—the same girl you’ve looked down your nose at in every film and TV show and in every high school and college hallway since you learned what self-superiority meant. Before you knew exactly what it felt like to be her.

“Wait.”

He says your name.

And of course you pause.

You want a reason to stay. If you had more self-respect, you wouldn’t. But you know you’ll give him as many chances to give you an excuse as he’s willing to take. You knew that before your fingers met the metal of the door handle.

“Just—hold on a second. Can you look at me?”

You sniffle and wipe your eyes with the heel of your palm before turning around to face him once more. You wonder if anyone will ever have the kind of power he has over you ever again.

The despair leaves only wisps of itself on his face—mostly he looks like he’s thinking hard about something. It’s jarring.

“You’re talking about our phone call on Sunday, right?”

You nod petulantly with a quick teary eye-roll because obviously that’s what you’re talking about.

Something lights in his own dark eyes as he inhales, parts his lips as if to speak, and stops himself again. Like he’s got news that he’s not sure how to break.

“The things I said, on that call… I wasn’t talking… about you.”

Your insides feel like tangled yarn as you stare at him uncomprehendingly.

“I mean, I was. I was talking about us. But not in the way you think, it was—” he stops, rubbing his eyes and taking a frazzled breath. “I know what it’s like to be the one who cares more. I have to assume that I’m the one who cares more because when I don’t, I ruin things. And with you, I felt like—the stakes were so high, and I thought it’d be safer for me to not say anything until I knew you felt the same. But I know that’s not fair to you so I tried to tell you over the phone that if you didn’t feel the same way it was okay. And now I’m—I’m realizing the way I phrased it was incredibly unclear and misleading, and somehow I fucked it up in a completely new way. But I wasn’t referring to you. I just didn’t want you to feel stuck with someone who can’t give you casual when you have so much ahead of you. I had no idea you felt that way about me. And I am so, so sorry that I hurt you. I never meant for that to happen.”

You blink.

And for some reason, begin sobbing.

Spencer freezes for a moment, then tells you to stay there and you barely have the capacity to wonder what he means as you hear his own door opening then slamming shut again. A moment later he’s on the passenger side, opening your door and leaning in.

“Hey,” he whispers, gently pulling your hands from your face and making you turn your head to look at him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But that’s good news, right? Why all the tears, lovely? What’s wrong? Please talk to me.”

You take a shuddering breath.

“This is all my fault, I ruined everything because I was too scared to tell you before and now—and now—”

Stroking your cheeks to wipe away the tears is a futile effort because they just keep coming, but Spencer does it anyway, and he speaks so kindly, so evenly it somehow hurts deeper.

You were terrible to him. And he had been prepared to accept that. He thought you didn’t love him, and he was still willing to be the subject of all your cryptic frostiness and inexplicable cruelty.

“It is not your fault. You didn’t ruin anything. I’m still right here. We’re okay.”

“But we’re breaking up, and—and I was so mean to you. That’s not okay, Spencer.”

You finally look at him. He’s close, eyes warm and wide as he looks directly into your own teary gaze, shaking his head earnestly.

“You were confused, honey. So was I. It was just a misunderstanding. But… I know I was unkind to you. I cannot express how sorry I am for that, and the last thing I want is for us to break up, but if you think that’s what’s best, I’ll… I’ll understand.”

His voice is dangerously thin by the end, strained with impending tears of his own. But he’s eternally kind—backlit by the streetlamps and beautiful like an angel. Whatever you want, he’ll give you. Even if it’s this.

“I don’t want that. I don’t.” You sigh, closing your eyes briefly against the world as you realize the impending breakup had been a delusion all along. That you were going to let your insecurities and some sick pride end the relationship for you. All that despair had been for nothing. Or—maybe not nothing. You realize he still hasn’t said it back. But you won’t be a coward. It’s not worth losing him. You open your eyes. “I just—I want us to be on the same page. And if you don’t love me yet or if you don’t wanna say it, or if you can’t, I get it—it’s okay, but if you don’t could you maybe just tell me? So that I’ll know—”

Before you can process it Spencer is leaning in, head angled to accommodate you, pressing his lips to yours so softly your breath catches and your stomach flips. Maybe softer than he ever has before, and it’s like taking a deep breath after holding it through a dark tunnel. You exhale a tentatively soft sigh against him, releasing air you don't have along with the fraught tension in most of your body. All too quickly he’s pulling away, hands still cupping your cheeks and thumbs stroking over your skin. When he speaks it’s not quite a whisper, but secret-soft.

“How could I not be so in love with you?”

Suddenly you can feel the world turning underneath you. Or maybe you’re just dizzy from lack of oxygen. Either way it feels good. A drop of warmth makes a splash in your stomach and slowly spreads through every vein and capillary until you’re sure you’re glowing gold.

“Really?”

“Of course really. I’m—” he takes a breath of his own, and you realize how difficult this must be after what happened the last time he professed his love for a girl. Your chest aches for him. His voice is low and solicitous, but it wavers slightly. “I should have told you sooner. I wanted to, but I was worried—I was worried the way I felt for you was… too much. I am so in love with you it scares me. I still don’t know what to say or how to act around you. When I’m gone, sometimes I imagine quitting my job, just so I can come home and see you sooner. When I have a gun in my hands, I start thinking about all the things I would do to keep you safe, or—or just because you asked me to. And if what you wanted was for me to leave you alone, I would have done that. If you wanted me to drop everything and everyone to be with you I would have done that. And I know you’d never ask those things of me. But any of them, I’d do in a heartbeat. Which is… it’s a little scary, huh?”

The final sentence is a nervous self-effacing chuckle, which you can match in sound only—one breathy attempt at a laugh from your slackened jaw.

When that’s the only response you can manage, he clears his throat.

“Too honest?”

You shake your head as if in a fog.

“No. Not too honest. But I’m just… I’m trying not to cry again.”

He smooths over your hair fondly. His own eyes are shiny and full of wonder as he studies you for a short while, like you're doing something much more awe-inspiring than sniffling in the passenger seat of his car. Then one hand is dropped to your shoulder and the other braced against your seat back. Finally, he pulls back to a more reasonable distance with a shaky sigh. It’s a sound of relief. You want to hug him, and all the past hims who have ever been hurt by anyone.

“You, um—you need to rehydrate. Do you have anything that will rebalance your electrolytes? If you don’t I can go to the store—”

“You don’t need to do that,” you assure him with a small, watery laugh, loosely grabbing the wrist that brushes your shoulder.

“But you need to take care of yourself. And I know you haven’t been drinking enough water because you never do.”

There’s a lingering overwrought shakiness to his voice, but it’s still the most relaxed he’s sounded since he came home, and you realize that the worst is behind you. The storm that you’d been so sure you couldn’t weather is somehow clearing up.

“I can’t believe we almost just broke up.”

He hangs his head, dropping it to the curve of your neck and groaning.

“Don’t say that. Let’s not think about that right now. Just—” when he raises his head again, and shakes it slightly to get his hair out of his eyes, they’ve cleared, like he’s on a mission to change the subject. “Let’s go upstairs. Will you let me take care of you?”

You give him an exaggerated nod, still sniffing, and the smile that grows on his face is like seeing the sun rise above the ocean. You love his smile. You love him.

Spencer kisses you on the cheek.

“Okay. Let me lock the car and then we can go up.”

As soon as you get into your apartment and turn on the light Spencer goes to the kitchen. It’s a small unit, but antique and nice enough, though you prefer Spencer’s. There’s still some tension as you observe him filling a glass with water, kicking your boots off by the door—but not necessarily the bad kind. You’re not sure exactly what it is.

“Where are you going?” He asks as you pass the kitchen area to turn on a standing lamp in the opposite corner of the room.

“I don’t like the big light.” A warm glow emanates through stained glass as you flick it on.

“I know that. I just didn’t realize it was a higher priority than your wellbeing.” His tone is sardonic but he’s already switching off the overhead lighting for you. You give him a wry smirk as you finally approach and take the proffered glass from his waiting hand.

“Ambience over everything, baby.”

His brows pinch at the cavalier sentiment—you never call him baby, so you're sure he knows it’s a joke—and he shakes his head with a humorous little huff of air through his nose, watching as you drink deeply. Your hand is shaking. Spencer notices and covers it with both of his, taking the half empty glass with one and grabbing your hand with the other.

“Adrenaline,” he murmurs, kissing your knuckles. “It’ll go away soon. Did you get enough?”

You nod, smiling small but genuinely. Emotionally exhausted or not, you’re happy.

Spencer strays, not far, to set the glass on the counter. Then he turns to face you, bracing his palms on the ledge and just watching you for a moment with the kind of smile that makes you nervous in the best way.

He beckons you to him with nothing more than a quick tilt of his head, and you shuffle across the floor in your socks til you’re toe to toe. Without your shoes on, he feels much taller. Still he just watches you for a moment—not that you mind. Your view isn’t half-bad. The faint warm glow from the lamp casts shadows over his face, highlighting all the perfect angles, deep brown eyes framed by dark lashes, and lips that still make you feel like a girl with a crush when you look at him. His hair is getting long. You’re unreasonably glad you still get to look at him like this.

“Hi,” you whisper—something about the intimate dark of the room feels like a place for secrets.

“Hi, pretty.” Spencer tucks hair behind your ear, eyes soft wherever they focus on your face like if he even looks at you too sharply you might break. “Have I told you how much I missed you while I was gone?”

He knows he hasn’t.

“Even when I was being a heinous bitch?”

Spencer laughs and it makes you smile too. The way his smile changes the landscape of his whole face will never feel any less like observing a natural phenomenon. It’s unfair how beautiful he is, and how you’re keeping him all to yourself in the dark on the fourth floor of an apartment building in DC.

“Even then. Not sure that’s the wording I would have used.”

“I missed you too,” you admit softly.

He maps your face with wandering eyes like he’s done a hundred times. Vaguely you wonder if he sees the same kind of beauty in you that you see in him. If he sees landmarks in your flaws and stars beyond the observable universe in your eyes.

Spencer sweeps your hair over your shoulder, fingertips grazing your neck.

“Can I kiss you?” He murmurs.

Butterflies fill your stomach and you nod shyly, unsure of what would come out if you tried to speak.

His free hand settles on your lower back and brings you into him until you’re chest to chest. With his other on your jaw, he bows his head, and you angle yours up, allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

Spencer kisses you so gently it aches in your chest, still cupping your face and stroking your cheek. You can’t help wrapping your arms around his middle—before he’s pulling away far too soon.

And he’s laughing.

“What were you drinking?”

You frown, flustered and trying to remember a time before his lips were on yours.

“Water.”

“Before that, baby. At the bar.”

You think back even further, head muddled even more by the endearment so that it takes you a moment to recall.

“A Shirley Temple. Derek brought it to me. Why? Is that bad?”

“No,” he says, still smiling as his lips brush yours. “You’re perfect. You taste like candy. It’s cute.”

Oh. You feel warm as he presses another kiss to your lips—and this time you insist on him staying awhile. He’s happy to oblige.

Spencer kisses you soft and careful at first, and then deeper, but still so slow, until you can’t help the way you’re bunching the fabric of his shirt between your fingers and rising on your toes to try and get impossibly closer. He kisses you the way you’ve been needing him to since he left, long and unhurried and sweet—and takes everything you give him, siphoning away all your leftover turmoil and angst until you’re weightless. You’re deprived of oxygen, you’re dizzy, and you don’t care at all.

“I love you,” you breathe against him before he captures your lips again with a hum that flips your stomach, his hand rubbing over your hip.

“Say it again,” he mutters against your mouth a second later, brushing hair away from your face.

It comes out a little mumbled this time between kisses, but it comes out all the same.

“Love you.”

He sighs into you—relief that mirrors your own.

“I love you.”

It seems like the kind of thing that will never stop sounding perfect from his lips.

A final deep kiss shortens into a series of smaller ones, and then he’s pulling away slowly, brushing the corner of your mouth affectionately.

Both of you require a few deep breaths—a moment to let your sparkling eyes wildly chart each familiar curve and convex and shade and shadow of the other’s face—before either of you can speak. Spencer breaks the silence first.

“I’m sorry.”

You frown, stirred from your brainless bliss by his unexpected apology.

“For what?”

The fiery glow in his eyes dampens slightly.

“For what I said at the bar.”

Oh.

That.

It feels like a lifetime away—memories seen through someone else’s eyes. Words like blows from a less familiar mouth.

You look away. For a while, you’d forgotten about that. Ideally he wouldn’t have reminded you.

At least he doesn’t make you look at him. He just strokes your hair, watching you examine the tiled counter. His voice is soft and soothing, like he’s appealing to a scared rabbit. Or maybe something angrier and with more teeth.

“You’re not immature, or badly behaved, or thoughtless. I was having an emotional reaction, I got defensive, and I lashed out. It was unfair and unkind of me to throw those things back in your face when I know how much trust it takes for you to be vulnerable with me. There’s nothing I can say or do that will adequately make up for that, but I want you to understand that I didn’t say any of it because it was the truth. I said it because I didn’t understand how you were feeling and I was hurt. I was insecure and I acted juvenile. I am so, so sorry, honey. You don’t have to forgive me, but you do need to know that none of it is true.”

Once you bite your lip long enough to be sure you won’t cry again, you speak.

“It’s okay,” you insist with a cheerfulness as natural as hard plastic, something in your chest twinging. “I was mean too. Like you said, we were both confused.”

“It is not. I made you cry.”

Sometimes you forget that he’s not like other people. He’ll never accept anything less than the barest truth. So you look back up at him and speak with a level of honesty that you hope satisfies him.

“I forgive you. You didn’t mean it. And I have insurance because Derek said he and Emily would kick your ass if you’re mean to me again.”

You hear the sad humor in his voice. His hand runs up and down your back.

“If I’m ever mean to you again, I personally invite you to kick my ass. And then let Derek and Emily have their turn.” He thumbs at your cheek, studying you in silence for a moment. “I can’t tell you how much I wish I could take it back.”

You stand up a little straighter. Spencer tracks you with his eyes, noting the way you smile slightly.

“You’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he admits, barely a whisper and the truth of it so heavy you can feel it too.

But for tonight you can’t contend with more weight.

“You know what you could do right now?”

The mischief in your tone is obvious, and he hesitates, like he’s not sure he wants to let you move on from this so quickly. But eventually he plays along, pressing his thumb into the dip of your back and speaks lowly, just as you’d hoped he would.

“What’s that?”

You smile slyly.

“You could kiss me again.”

“Hm… I don’t know, three times in one night? Sounds a little excessive.”

“Do you want to be forgiven or not?” You huff. He smiles lazily, already dipping his head to press his lips to yours.

“I thought I was already forgiven.”

“Apologies can be retracted.”

“Ah.” His next words are mumbled as his lips ghost yours. “Well we wouldn’t want that.”

Spencer puts you out of your misery, not bothering to warm you up to it before he’s kissing you with a deep need. It’s still languid, and not hungry, exactly—it’s more like an aching, mind-numbing thirst. It’s all-consuming, overwhelming to have all of his burning focus pinpointed on you like this. Both hands come to cup your face and you wonder if he wants you in ways that he doesn’t entirely understand, just as you want him. You wonder if anything could possibly sate this desire to possess him completely and for him to possess you, to trade corporeal forms—or if it’s just something you’ll have to live with like a metaphysical itch you can’t scratch. As he forces you to tip your head back for him, using his height to his advantage, breathing deeply against you and attempting to push himself impossibly closer, you begin to think he understands exactly how you feel.

As soon as you’d sensed he wanted it, your lips had parted for him. He knows he could have any part of you. He knows how eager you are to give yourself to him. You’ve done everything to prove it, and yet you’ve never needed him quite like you do ask he pushes off the counter and slowly backs you against the wall, protecting your head with a hand as the paintings rattle ever so slightly. You gasp into his mouth and he kisses you greedier still, but his hands don’t stray from your cheeks.

Not until, that is, you hook your right leg around his left, and he catches it, fingers wrapping under the bend of your knee.

Never in your life have you regretted picking jeans rather than a skirt more than you do right now.

But to your disappointment, Spencer slows down to a halt—pulling his lips from yours like they’d been stuck by molasses until he’s far enough away to study you wildly, panting just as you are. His hair hangs over his smoldering eyes. He’s disheveled. It’s sexy.

“What?” You whisper, voice surprisingly hoarse.

He looses a dry, abashed laugh. The flush he’s sporting is incredibly charming.

“I’m supposed to be playing nice with you.”

Spencer says it like it’s a mild hindrance. Something frissons in your core. You smile a little wider as you continue to catch your breath, which seems to please him.

“Playing nice?”

“Being gentle. I’m not supposed to push my favorite things against walls when they’re delicate.”

Your face heats at the way he speaks of you—if it weren’t Spencer, if you didn’t know he really doesn’t think of you as an object, you’d be pissed. But instead all you can think about is how good it feels when he calls you his.

“According to who?”

His eyes dart between yours and then down to your lips several times before he averts them to the wall beside you with an intensity that could burn holes through the plaster. Is that how he looks at you?

“According to me. I think… god, you're going to hate me for this. But I think I need you to kick me out.”

You drop your leg at the same time as you do your heart.

“What?”

“I know,” he says, over-apologetically, “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that escalate. But we can’t… do anything tonight.” Before you can protest, he rushes to explain himself. “It’s just that it’s been a long day. It’s been a long week, actually, and I doubt either of us have slept very much, and I think you’re really drained, and probably not thinking super clearly. I don’t think you’re in the best place for decision making.”

You look pointedly down to where he still has you pressed to the wall.

“I think I’m in a great place.”

At that he steps back, but lets his hands find yours and pulls you away from the wall—just not quite as close as before. His nose bumps against yours as he speaks low and sweet.

“I understand that you want me to stay right now. But it’s not a good idea to associate fighting with physical pleasure. That can set some really dangerous patterns.”

“We’re not fighting,” you plead, matching his tone as you look up at him with big eyes. His fingers lace with yours.

“You’re right. Maybe fighting was the wrong word. But we had some pretty intense conversations today, didn’t we?”

Reluctantly you nod.

“Right,” he agrees. “Same premise. We need to be able to have those conversations without getting distracted.”

In a last ditch attempt to get him to change his mind, you give him your best approximation of the imploring, wide-eyed gaze he sometimes uses on you. Something not entirely smile and not entirely smirk twists the corners of his mouth. When he ducks down to kiss you quickly, you reciprocate, but you lack the enthusiasm of earlier.

“Hey.”

“Hm,” you respond, dejectedly.

“Don’t get all grumpy because I don’t put out.”

That puts a disgruntled little smile on your face as he probably knew it would.

“I guess you just gave it up easy to all those other women.”

He grabs your chin and gives you a final peck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been with other women.”

“Mhm,” you grumble good-naturedly, pushing away from him and going to the door to undo the deadbolt. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Wow. I really must have overstayed my welcome if that’s the goodbye I get.”

You turn back around, brows raised.

“Oh, I was prepared to be very welcoming. This is your doing.”

“Uh-huh. Come here.”

Happily you skitter back across the few feet of wooden flooring and wrap your arms tightly around him one more time, pressing your cheek to his chest. He’s ready, winding his arms over yours and rubbing your back. It’s eerily similar, you realize as he presses his face into the concave of your shoulder, to when he’d left on that most recent case.

But at the same time—everything’s different.

And you won’t make the same mistake twice.

“Hey,” you smile, resting your head on his shoulder. Spencer pulls back to look at you, a similar grin on his face.

“Hey what?”

“I remembered what I was gonna say.”

The grin widens. He knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“Tell me.”

“I was going to tell you that I love you. And—I hope you’re not one of those people who’s uncomfortable being told that often. Because if that’s the case I’m really going to annoy you.”

“I’m not that kind of person,” he assures. “Tell me as often as you can.”

“But you should say it back. It’s more polite that way.”

“I love you,” he murmurs, in a voice more serious than your teasing tones had been but still soft and sweet around the edges. “You know, people talk about love as if it’s completely irrational and illogical. But with you… I think the world actually makes more sense than it used to. I understand things I never did before. You’ve taught me a lot.”

It’s like a lightshow in your stomach. You wonder if he has any idea the effect his casual musings have on you.

“You already knew everything.”

“Not everything,” Spencer whispers. “Not about the things that matter.”

And you’re fresh out of teases. All you can do is look up at him with big eyes again, in awe of the fact that you get to keep him after all.

“Will you text me when you get home?” You request, voice reverent in the wake of an admission you could never hope to top.

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod, because it doesn’t even matter if you had other plans tomorrow. They’re as good as cancelled.

Spencer kisses your cheek, and you get the sense that things are still being left unfinished. There’s an unresolved tension that you can’t shake, even after all the apologies and kisses and sweet words. Still, he made a point with his talk about not mixing argument with pleasure, and you’d like to respect those wishes because you respect him—even if every atom of your being shakes with desire to keep him locked in your bedroom, hidden away from the world together, for as long as you can possibly manage.

Eventually, you loosen your hold, and you let him go. He lingers at the door, hands in his pockets, just watching you and mirroring your small smile as you hold onto the counter with an iron grip to keep yourself in check. After he finally peels his gaze away from yours and silently closes the door behind him, you stand there, staring at the wood for at least a minute.

Once you manage to shake yourself from your revery with a deep breath, you grab your glass from earlier and stand in front of the sink, watching it fill with a white jet of water. It’d be a shame to admit it to him, but maybe Spencer is right. Maybe you do need time to emotionally digest today. After all—that was technically your first argument. It seems to have left you sort of wound up. Not in a bad way, per se—maybe you just need to take a shower, let the hot water roll over your shoulders and wash away the frenetic energy that clings to you.

Still, something tells you that you won’t be getting much sleep tonight, even if you do take the world’s longest shower. You’re simply too high-strung. You wonder if having Spencer here would fix that or make it worse. But ultimately, he’d made the call that it was a bad idea for him to stay, and you’re generally inclined to trust his judgement.

The thought makes you laugh into your cup as you drink. Even after the debacle that was the past week, you trust him to know what he’s doing. Maybe you need to rethink that, at least temporarily, until he’s had a chance to redeem himself.

Just then, your front door is opening with absolutely zero warning and slamming shut again before you can finish whipping around. Your heart threatens to choke you and you almost drop your glass, clutching your chest.

“Jesus, you—”

But the words die in your throat as Spencer storms toward you, shrugging his coat off with a white-hot chill in his eyes. It’s enough to freeze you in place, heart drumming against the confines of your ribs.

“You really need to start locking that door,” he breathes, tossing his jacket on the counter before grabbing your face and crashing his lips into yours, palms pressed to your jaw and fingers pushing into your hair. You stand there, hands hovering in air before you gain the wherewithal to blindly set the glass down behind you. Your heart is pounding as you immediately submit to the kiss, whining softly against his lips and cautiously seeking stability in the fabric of his shirt. Spencer pulls away only briefly, allowing you to gasp for much-needed air. His brown eyes are like molten gold on you, pupils blown wide and wild as he scans your face, taking heavy breaths of his own. “Anyone could just walk in.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

1K notes · View notes

notafunkiller · 3 months

Text

she chose me

Summary: Steve's hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you'd choose him over Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x agent!female reader

Warnings: 18+, no condom (but f is on birth control), teasing, pet names, jealousy, sergeant + sir + daddy kìnk, vibranium arm kìnk, language, degrading, praising, no mention of y/n etc.

Word Count: 6.9K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you’ll enjoy it! This was inspired by the "She chose me." TikTok trend.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You’re all quiet, watching the back and forth between Cap and Bucky. Not even Sam intervenes.

“You didn’t-”

“This is just not gonna work, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, with an expression you like to describe as bitchy. He’s so sassy without even intending to, and you wonder how bitchier he’d be if this wasn’t his best friend talking.

“Let’s see if people agree.”

He looks around waving at you and the rest of the team while Sam just snorts, covering his mouth with his hand.

But you’re not amused because you have no idea how to handle this diplomatically.

“Whose side are you on?” Steve’s tone is deep and authoritative, making you feel a little uneasy.

You don’t know how to talk to Avengers sometimes. You are on friendly terms, even when you train. Sam always cracks jokes, Steve shares stories and gives advice, and Bucky is Bucky. Nat and Sam call him The Machine for a reason. But he’s a really good professor and an even better observer. He pays attention to every recruit and remembers what they need to work on. You find him extra intimidating because he’s also the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. No exaggeration. And it’s not in the usual clean and golden boy way you are used to, anyway. He’s been through shit and it’s showing in the way he carries himself and doesn’t talk much when it’s not needed.

But you pay attention too, and this is why you think you were chosen to lead the recruits for this mission. You are on good terms with the Avengers, and Bucky probably approved the idea of working with you because you didn’t piss him off like most do. You know he hates chit chat, you learned how to read most of his stares and to not take it personally when he makes remarks about your fighting skills. They’re not your strongest asset, but you have a flair and you come up with the best solutions under pressure. You managed to pin him down once for a few seconds, and that is probably your greatest achievement.

But in moments like this, you don’t know how to say things without upsetting one side.

“You won’t get in trouble, don’t worry,” Bucky adds confidently. You’re not surprised when four out of your six colleagues agree with Bucky. They explain quickly why, emphasizing how much faster and efficient it would be if you followed that route, but their voices are still trembling. And you get it. Telling Captain America to his face you prefer his best friend’s plan over his will always be a risk. But if he gets mad, that says more about him as a leader than about anyone else.

Sam raises his hands in the air defensively, probably enjoying this as a show, but based on the looks he shares with Bucky, it seems like he agrees with him too.

You try to find your words, knowing you’re the last one from your team to speak, but before you can even open your mouth, Steve already smiles, pointing at you with his index finger. “Look at this, though! She agrees with me… She chose me.”

His grin is cold and a little arrogant. What you don’t notice, though, is the intention Steve had when he decided to use those exact words, but Bucky does. And he clenches his jaw at the same time his vibranium hand curls into a fist; a silent response to the not-so-innocent assumption that Steve made.

After a few seconds, Bucky leans in, his gaze steady and confident. “Did she?”

There is no way you would pick Steve’s plan. You are too smart and you have too much integrity to pick his side just to kiss his ass. He raises an eyebrow at you this time, a confident smirk forming on his lips. “Did you really choose him? You really think his plan would work better, doll?”

You feel surrounded by Bucky… attacked even. Your cheeks are getting hotter, too, and you know there is nothing you can do to hide your redness. Doll… He called you that when he turned you again on your back the day you managed to pin him down. It’s something about the way he says it that makes it absolutely deadly. Your first instinct was to be offended, but you reminded yourself he is a man born in 1917. He lived his twenties in the 40s, and doll was used as slang for sweetheart.

Taking a deep breath, you tilt your head slightly, directing your response to Steve. “It’s not about choosing sides, but considering all perspectives for the best outcome. And your plan, Captain, has its strengths, but I’m inclined to agree with Sergeant Bucky.” You bite your lip. “It’s about finding the most effective strategy for the mission, not a personal preference of any kind.”

Steve’s smile falls off, but your attention shifts back to Bucky’s grin that lightens up his face.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Well, then,” Steve sighs. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you until he says your name.

Surprised, you jump. “Yes, of course.”

Steve leans back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips as you write down the last details. “You know, I value your insights on the mission.”

You look surprised because how can he value your opinion when this is your second mission only? He’s Captain America!

“Oh?”

“I trust your judgment, and your training is going great. If you and the team chose Bucky’s plan, then we do it.” You see his jaw clench, though, so you know it’s not easy for him to say it. Even if it’s his friend… interesting. “Maybe, when all is over, we could grab a cup of coffee and talk about other things. What do you think?”

You’re silent for a couple of seconds, trying to realize if he means it in the way you think he is. There is no way, right?

Just in case, you offer him a friendly smile, “Thanks, Cap! I value our teamwork too. Coffee sounds great after. It could be a good way for all of us to unwind as a team.”

He nods, sighing. “I’m glad you’re on board. I’m looking forward to that coffee, even if it’s with the whole team. And please, call me Steve.”

So he was flirting…

“Thank you,” you pause as you stand up. “I’m gonna talk with Sergeant Barnes so we can get things ready for tomorrow. Have a good night, Steve!”

You knock only three times before the door opens and a Bucky dressed in shorts and a white tank top lets you in with a smirk.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you nod as you take a step inside his bedroom. He only stays here before and after missions when he is too tired to go to his apartment, so you don’t expect to see any personal objects there except for a few clothes.

“What happened to Bucky?”

You look at him surprised, tightening your hold on the tablet you are holding.

What?

“Sir?”

Bucky closes his eyes for a second. “Earlier, during the meeting, you called me Sergeant Bucky.”

Shit!

Maybe you should start calling him Sergeant Barnes in your head as well to avoid these fucks up. You feel so embarrassed that you want to disappear. You don’t want him to think you disrespect him in any way. His rank carries a lot of weight and trauma.

You clear your throat, slightly flustered. “My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. It won’t happen again, sir.” You offer him an apologetic smile while trying very hard to maintain a professional tone.

Bucky’s smirk softens as he places his flesh hand on your shoulder. You feel your legs transforming into jelly.

“My point was, doll, there is no need to be so formal. We’re off-duty here, and titles aren’t necessary. Just call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky,” you smile. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I came to discuss the plan for tomorrow. I talked to Steve and we agreed it would be wise for you to lead the way as Mr. Wilson-”

“Steve?” Bucky interrupts before you can finish your sentence. He doesn’t even bother to look at your tablet, either.

“Yes, we talked in the office.”

“No, I get that. But you call him Steve? What happened to Cap?” Bucky knows that might sound really childish, but he can’t help it. What is Steve trying to do?

Was it some kind of test? Did you misunderstand everything with Steve?

“Oh, Cap allowed me to call him Steve earlier. I am sorry if it sounded disrespectful.”

He squeezes your shoulder even before moving his hand to your chin, raising your face, and you feel yourself blushing again.

The blue of his eyes is so intense that you can’t see how anyone would be able to survive it.

“You apologize too much, doll. I don’t like it.”

You can’t breathe. “Sor-” You pause, realizing he is right. Apologizing is second nature to you. It feels wrong when you don’t, and you do it without even thinking about it. “I guess I do that a lot. I’ll work on it, Bucky.”

“I’m not your teacher right now, doll.” He smiles, letting go of your chin. “Just remember, we’re not all about formalities here. Relax a bit.”

Easier said than done. But you need to keep it together and ignore the urge to grab his face and finally kiss him. So you focus on talking about the mission and the members of the team. You talk about all of your colleagues, and Bucky helps you take notes. He switched so easily from friendly to the sergeant mode, which is fascinating.

He explains step by step your positions, the way things are gonna happen and even two back up plans. Two!

You’re not overwhelmed by the amount of information, but you’re quite surprised by how much he talks and how well he answers every possible question any of you could have. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak for more than a few seconds continuously so you try to focus on every word.

Only when he finishes and you close your tablet after sending everyone the plan, do you see him relaxing again.

With a smirk, he asks you, “How did Steve take it?”

“He was fine with the plan, even suggested if we feel like doing it, to get one or two more members. But based on what you said, we won’t need it.”

“He has a point, of course, but if you said you don’t think you need it, good.” You try not to stare at his lips as he speaks, but it’s so hard. “And I meant how he took that you chose my plan. That you chose me.”

You meet Bucky’s gaze, trying to keep your composure, “Steve seemed more than okay with it from what I saw. He values the team’s decision. Plus, it’s not about choosing sides, and-”

“And not a personal preference of any kind,” he interrupts just to quote you, and you don’t know if you should feel flattered he remembers word by word or to prepare yourself for a negative reaction. To be honest, your head is spinning and him being so close makes it worse. “I heard you very well, but I’m curious…”

He extends his hand and carefully tucks your hair behind your ears. You swear you can hear your own heartbeat going crazy. And if you do, so does he.

“About what?”

“Would the answer be different if it was about personal preferences, doll? Would you choose him?”

You freeze. You are simply in shock because this cannot happen to you. From Steve asking you out earlier to your crush basically doing this. You’re confused and a little tired, but you didn’t imagine all of this. Does Bucky want you? Is that it?

You take a deep breath praying you won’t choke on the words. “In a hypothetical scenario based on personal preferences, Bucky, I would still not pick him.”

Your voice is trembling, but you maintain eye contact even after admitting it. You didn’t choose Bucky’s plan because of your crush, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or exposed. He’s the one who let you call him Bucky, who touched you and asked you that. You don’t know if he counts romance as a personal preference, but there is an urge inside you to find out. You wonder how he’d taste, if he’d kiss you back if you kissed him first, how your mission would be if you crossed the line. Your thoughts are foggy.

“So you’d choose me.”

You clear your throat. “Yes.”

“Over Captain America.” His grin is so boyish and cute that it makes you smile. He looks younger and less… burdened when he gets like this. Bucky chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Well, well, well. Looks like I got someone not kissing Captain America’s ass for a change. That’s really rare. You’re a naughty one, aren’t you?”

You mask your gasp with a cough, deciding to play along, a sly grin forming on your face. “Maybe I just have a thing for underdogs.”

Bucky’s eyes light up with amusement to your annoyance but also excitement, and he leans in, taking the tablet from your hand and placing it on the floor without a care. “Underdogs, huh? Ouch, that hurt a little. I thought I was your favorite super-soldier.”

You can’t help but giggle, feeling enough encouragement from his reaction to touch his vibranium arm just to feel it. You got the chance to do it only for a couple of seconds and it always fascinated you, especially the golden pattern. The fact he can feel everything because it’s connected to his nerves is insane to you. It probably is to him too. “Oh, you are. And my favorite teacher too. But a little competition never hurts, Sergeant Barnes.”

You can see he feigns offense. “Competition, huh?” Bucky’s playfulness turns into a serious tone as he adds, “Well, let me show you why I’m the only choice.”

And without warning, he closes the distance between you and kisses you.

You gasp, taken aback, but you bring your hands to his face and hip before you deepen the kiss. He’s not as gentle as you expected, his left arm flying to your ass and bringing your hips closer to his immediately.

You moan when you feel his hard on so close to your pussy, and tug on his hair a little.

“Aren’t you a naughty girl?” He lowers his lips to your jaw. “I could basically smell how wet you got earlier as soon as I called you doll. And so did Steve.”

You want to open your eyes and tell him to stop talking about his friend. You don’t want to be turned off, but he already continues.

“He thought he stood a chance with my girl.”

“Your girl?” You whimper when his teeth graze your neck before his tongue licks on the spot. He intends to leave a mark, you have no doubt, and you absolutely love it.

“Mine.” His whisper makes you shiver. “I want to mark you. The thought of having you covered in hickeys during the mission makes me so hard it almost hurts. Gonna show everyone you belong to me.”

“Do I belong to you, Sergeant Barnes?” You take a step back but let your hand linger on his chest teasingly. “Because I don’t remember you asking me to dinner.”

Bucky grins. “Dinner is a classic move, and I adapted very well to the present. But of course I can stop with the kisses right now, and we can have some late dinner.”

You roll your eyes at his unbelievably good answer. Fucker!

“This is not what I meant, Barnes, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it. But I want to know something else.”

You don’t even doubt he means something dirty because it’s too obvious.

“Like what?”

“Like how your pretty pussy tastes while you come all over my face.”

You gasp at the no-filter words. You’re so used to Steve’s warning you to use proper language, that you did not expect it.

“I thought men your age were all about being proper and refined… Don’t they teach subtlety in the 40s etiquette class or did you skip it?”

You tease him on purpose, and he knows it. You are well aware what a nerd he was in school. Such a nerd that it was displayed in the museum. You snort. You were a nerd too, so you love it.

Bucky chuckles, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he brings his hands to your pants, unzipping them without warning. Holy. Shit. The way you love this. He reads your body language very well and he has his super soldier senses.

“Well, doll, proper and refined went out the window with the 40s, right? Because otherwise you’d not be standing here letting me undress you.”

You raise your eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement on your face. His energy is so light, and he looks like a man without a worry in moments like this.

“You’re the one who offered to show me what the little upgraded version of you can do, after all.” You take off your shoes before pulling down your pants as soon as he drags them to your ankles. You can’t believe you’re about to fuck James Bucky Barnes! “Why would I say no?”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride, doll. Gonna make sure you have the time of your life.”

You snort, amused by his eagerness, and decide to take off your shirt yourself to see his reaction. And he doesn’t disappoint.

He grins like a child, his hands flying straight to your back without taking his eyes off your chest. And before you know it, your bra is on the floor and Bucky cups your breasts, bringing your left tit to his mouth.

If you gasped when you felt the cold touch of the vibranium, now you moan loudly, enjoying the way he licks around your skin. He avoids your nipple on purpose, so you decide to take matters into your own hands quite literally and get a grab of the top of his hair, forcing him to suck on your nipple.

“Fuck! I didn’t expect you to be so whorish,” you say without realizing, and you feel his snort and breath on the wet patch he left with his tongue.

Bucky’s grin turns into a sly smirk. “This is what you call whorish? I guess I’ll give you an experience you won’t ever forget.”

“Talk less, do more.”

You want to enjoy more of this. You have a mission in a few hours, and it might be just a one time thing anyway since he is Bucky Barnes. You don’t want to get your hopes high.

Bucky lets go of your breast with a pop and moves up, raising your head so he can kiss you.

It’s electrifying, and desperate, and not enough. You move your hands to the bottom hem of his tank top and lift it, interrupting the kiss so you can take it off completely. You just want to feel him, all of him.

You step back for a second, wanting to look at him properly, but you notice a change in his eyes that he, of course, tries to mask.

“Why are you nervous? You look like a fucking god! I should be nervous here.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker with vulnerability.

“I guess I’m not used to someone seeing my scars or my,” he waves toward his vibranium arm, and you frown.

“I will sound totally weird, but they all make you really cool, Serge.” You trace down a few scars when you see he is completely relaxed and continue. “Do I have to lick them all to make you believe me?”

You move your hands under his shorts before he can answer, though, finally touching his cock. You both moan at the feeling. He’s hard and thick, and the head is wet. You bring your fingers to his lips, smearing some of the precome before leaning in to suck it off.

You’re not prepared for his moan or for the way he attacks your mouth, and definitely not for him to snap your underwear using his flesh hand. Not even his vibranium one!

You moan into his mouth. He makes you feel like you’re floating and you need to fuck him right then.

“You’re not just whorish, you’re a whore!” You pause when you feel his fingers close to your entrance. “No wonder why you didn’t belong in the 40s.” Then you move, allowing him to touch you. You don’t realize what you said, and when you do, in the middle of dragging his shorts down, you curse yourself in your mind. It sounds like the most disrespectful thing ever. This man’s fate was changed by monsters who cryogenically freezing him and brainwashing him, and you are selfishly talking as if he belonged to you. “I’m sorry that was awful of-” But he interrupts you before you can get a chance to properly apologize.

“You like that, don’t you?”

A wave of shame surges through your body. Your cheeks are burning.

“I’m really sorry,” you take your hands off his shorts and look away, not even peaking at his cock. You ruined it, didn’t you? “I will just go.”

Bucky shakes his head, puffing. “For such an amazing agent, you’re not a good room reader, are you?”

Your eyes finally drop to his cock, which you’ve been trying to avoid in the last minute out of shame, but there’s no need anymore since he’s teasing you. He’s just a bit longer than average, and he’s really thick, and the veins do not make it ugly at all. You are curious how it’d feel in your hand, how much it’d twitch, how Bucky would moan.

“You aren’t a good room reader, either then, Barnes, since I’m not getting dicked down and my hair pulled, am I?”

Something snaps in him, and it’s visible in his eyes. You don’t know what to expect so you just watch him. But you can’t. He is so quick that, despite your crazy training, you don’t anticipate his move. His hand wraps around the hair from your nape and fists it hard enough for you to move along with him.

“Wanna be dicked down? Fine by me, get on your hands and knees.”

You’re surprised, of course you are, but his tone is firm and you find yourself nodding and doing what he told you. You know you can say no; there is nothing in Bucky’s energy that makes you feel unsafe or as if you have no choice.

At the same time, he lets go of your hair just so he can take off his shorts completely.

“Are you not gonna make sure I’m wet enough for you?” You ask when you see him getting closer to you again, even though you are very wet. You just want to push his buttons.

“I can smell you if I focus on it, let me remind you.” He smiles. “I know you’re soaked, and you wanna be dicked down. Or are you backing off?”

Challenging prick!

You roll your eyes. “I’m not scared of your dick.”

“Good, because he wants to be friends with you.”

You close your eyes, cringing. “God, you were this close to turning me off.” You raise your hand in the air, putting your weight on the left one as you bring your thumb and index finger close to each other to show him exactly what a thin line this was.

Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you forget it in a second.”

Your first instinct is to want to tease him about the second remark, to ask him if this is how long he can last, but you’re too horny now. And you also need rest for the mission tomorrow.

“How, uh…” You pause not knowing how to ask this properly. “Can you, uh, make babies?” You cringe at your words. “I mean, widows can’t… and I just wanted to know if we need a condom to be extra careful since you might be extra fertile because I am on the pill and I have no idea how sex with a super sold-”

Bucky’s lips press against yours suddenly, making you stop talking.

“Breathe.”

“I’m breathing,” you whisper and he cups your face.

“Not enough. We can use a condom if you want, but I’ll need to check where I can find one. Or we can go bare if you trust me… I can pull out and you are already protected, so there shouldn’t be a problem, I think.” He pauses to kiss your lips again. “But we can still use a condom anyway to be extra careful as you said.”

You frown at that, suddenly more desperate to feel him bare than ever before.

“No, I trust you. I have never done it without a condom before, and I assume you didn’t have much time to uh… have sex.”

Bucky snorts amused. “Now why do you assume that?”

“You look like you haven’t been fucked since 1945.”

The fact he doesn’t even deny it makes you feel even bolder, so you reach for his cock and place your thumb on his wet head while wrapping the rest of your hand around the length. “Are you gonna even last for a second once you’re inside me, Sergeant Barnes?” You snort when you see him trying to hold back his moan by biting his lip. It makes you feel happy. “Or do you even manage to get inside me before- ahh!” He is predictable this time as he pulls your hair, so you laugh.

“Are you familiar with this whole red, yellow, green color code?”

You gasp. “Yes, read about it, never needed it. But how do you know that?”

“I read about it, too.” His grin is so wide and beautiful that you melt again.

“Quite naughty of you, Serge. Reading dirty books. Needed some ideas?”

Bucky smirks, kissing you again and again. “Gonna need a review after I finish with you.”

“You finishing with me?” You smile. “Big words, Barnes, but no action.”

He knows you challenge him, and you don’t try to hide it. Do you have to beg for his cock for him to finally fuck you? He is edging you on purpose at this point.

You let out a whimper in anticipation when he moves behind you.

“Are you sure you’re fine with no condom?”

“Ihm, I’m not ovulating anyway,” you whisper, trying not to sound too eager. But you are. You want to get dicked down, indeed. And you wanted it for months.

His silence makes you a bit nervous, but the sounds of him dropping to his knees behind you, followed by his hand grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance while squeezing your hip with the metal arm.

You love the sensation of the coldness, but you love even more when he leans in to kiss your back before he pushes inside you.

It takes two tries, though, for him to be able to push halfway inside you because you kept pushing his dick out of you instantly. You managed to take him only when he brought his fingers to your clit and rubbed a bit.

You still laughed though because the sounds were too funny and his little frustrated whimpers were hilarious. The amusement turns quickly into more horniness when you feel him stretching you without even being fully inside you. You dreamed and daydreamed about it… fantasized about it, but it still wasn’t even close to how it actually feels. How full it feels. It’s like you cannot even think, your body is weak.

“Fuck,” your voice is cracking. “Deeper.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whispers.

“So?” You bring your hand to his ass, trying to show him you really need it deeper. “Why do you make it sound like a bad thing? Or are you trying not to come, Mr. Super Soldier?”

“You have quite a mouth on you, I think you need it-”

“You talk way too much. Are you nervous or-” It’s his turn to interrupt you with a thrust. Such a deep thrust your head is spinning. He’s not fully inside you, you realize, but he doesn’t try to, instead, he starts to fuck you, taking your breath away. His fingers leave your clit, grabbing your hips with both hands.

There is no question anymore, just fucking as you wanted.

And it feels like heaven. You try to keep your eyes open just so you look at him over your shoulder, but it’s impossible.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You groan. “No, you did, n-now fuck me harder.”

“Well, well,” he slows down and you almost wanna die. “This is not how you talk to your Sergeant, is it?”

He can’t do this!

“Fuck you!”

“What does my baby want?” His thrusts are too slow and teasing, just like his voice. “Use your words, beg for it.”

You’re not turned off, surprisingly. Not at all, on the contrary, the firm tone he uses, the words… you’re getting hornier, if that is even possible.

“I love your cock, Sergeant, so please give it to me. Fuck me harder and faster. Need you to pull my hair, and choke me, and… be rough.” You would be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. You know he wouldn’t make fun of you for this, so you trust him.

“Only mine.” You take a deep breath relieved when you feel his right hand wrap around your hair. “Do you hear me? Answer me.”

You nod, unable to say anything because he starts to thrust hard and fast, just like he did before he stopped. Your tits are jumping at the impact, and you have to dig your toes into the floor.

“Use your words. If you want my,” he moans. “If you want my cock and my hand wrapped around your neck, you have to use your big girl words. Tell me you’re only mine.”

You can’t hold back your tears this time. You love it so much, you can’t believe you waited so long to have him.

“Only yours.”

“No Steve.”

He lets go of your hair, wrapping his hand around your neck. No pressure, not moving it, he’s just holding it there.

“There’s n-no Steve, Sergeant. Only you. My pussy belongs to you. I o-only want to get filled by you.”

You know he’s smiling without needing to look at him.

“You love your Sergeant’s cock, don’t you?” You have no idea how he’s able to speak while thrusting so hard. He’s a fucking robot, indeed. “No one else could give you this, no matter how much they tried.”

You feel the building in your core. You’re so, so close already, so you try to place your weight on only one hand and bring the other to cover his, and before he can say something, you encourage him to choke you by pressing his fingers on the sides of your neck.

You moan so loudly you surprise even yourself. You sound like a cat.

“Please, sergeant, please, choke me.” You repeat your move and you close your eyes. “Please, daddy, I’m so c-close.”

He pauses for a second, and you don’t know why.

Before you can ask what’s wrong, he doesn’t just start to thrust inside you again, he dicks you down just the way you wanted. It’s as if he fucks the air out of your lungs every time you exhale. You’re crying and screaming at this point, so loud the whole floor must hear you. But you’re not ashamed. You feel so close you can almost taste it.

You barely hear his whimpers, but they’re there and they’re so beautiful.

You get no warning when he decides to squeeze the sides of your neck: gently at first, but then? Perfect. So perfect you come without warning, not being able to even say his name. You just scream some nonsense, your hand dropping from his to the floor so you can ground yourself properly. Your whole body is burning, and burning, and burning, coming alive for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t wait even for a second after you come down from your orgasm. Instead, he gets his dick out of you, grabbing you by your ass and raising you in his arms. Still weak, you barely have the strength to wrap your legs around his waist and your hands around his neck. He’s sweaty but not that hot. His metal arm is making you cool down.

“Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.” His lips find your forehead and you fight the urge to kiss his neck. You feel so small in his arms… and as if no one can hurt you.

You’re smiling like a fool when your back hits his bed, and so is he. Such a beautiful, blinding smile.

You let him spread your legs before you drag his face down so you can kiss him. You bite his lip hard until he opens his mouth, moaning when you feel him entering you again. This time, you’re relaxed so he thrusts inside you so much easier.

“Gonna make you come again around your daddy’s cock..”

His hands wrap your legs around his ass when he starts to thrust again.

“You’re quite… into it, Sergeant Barnes. So dirty!”

He gently grabs your jaw. “Tongue out.”

You do it, opening your mouth and waiting, and waiting until you finally understand what he’s about to do.

Instead of being grossed out, as you expected, you eagerly swallow the saliva that he lets drip from his mouth, which lands on your tongue.

You bat your eyes as you start to move your hips to meet his thrusts halfway, and that sends him into a frenzy.

“Fucking hell, you don’t want to sleep tonight, do you?” He asks sarcastically, but you don’t have enough air to tease him with a stamina comment. “You want me to make you scream and swallow my spit and come till we have to go to that fucking mission. Till your beloved Steve needs to come to us himself and hear us covered in come but still fucking.” You moan at the idea of your teammates finding out about this. You get awful comments anyway; at least you can get him for real and rub it in their faces. “You would like that, wouldn’t ya? Having all my undivided attention on you, not caring that my best friend is mad…” The thrusts are so deep that your head falls on the pillow instantly. You cannot keep your eyes open for even a second and you’re crying again. “Not caring my pal wanted you so badly he even tried to take you out tonight.”

“Sergeant-”

Thrust after thrust. You grab his forearm as tightly as you can so you can have something to hold onto.

“He thought he could have you, that you’d choose him. Come on, love. Come on, scream my name, let them hear. Let them all hear whose cock you cry for. Who is the one you belong to.” His balls slap against your skin so hard they tickle you. But not even that can distract you from almost reaching your orgasm. His words, his cock, his possessiveness…

“Sergeant, please. No one but you, can I… c-can I touch my clit? I’m so, so close.”

You don’t have to, though, because he is quick enough to bring his flesh hand between your bodies and rub your clit just the way you need it.

“F-fuck, coming,” you manage to warn him before the pleasure hits you. It’s so overwhelming you see white, digging your nails into his forearm.

You don’t know what you call him… daddy, Bucky or sergeant, but it doesn’t matter. You hear his praise, how you’re his good girl, and his words encouraging you to come for him.

When you can focus again, you kiss him with everything you have.

“Need you to come for me, Sergeant Barnes,” you whisper between kisses. “Need you to come inside me, need you to fill me up with your come, sir.”

He hisses loudly, his eyes being more grey than blue.

“Don’t tease me.”

“I mean it,” you make eye contact, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Not the heat of the moment. I need your come, daddy. I’m on birth-”

He kisses you so hard your teeth end up hitting, but you don’t care. This is everything.

“Gonna come, gonna give you what you want. Gonna make you my come s-slut. Is that what you needed?”

“Yes, yes.” You’re so excited to watch him finish you don’t even realize how much you like being called his come slut until he says it again. “Come on, Sergeant, come for me.”

After you say that, it only takes him two more thrusts to finish, moaning your name.

His eyes close, and you notice how pretty his eyelashes are. And the little moles on his face… his mouth semi-open and his hair in all directions.

You want to witness this every day.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in to kiss his nose and cheeks, letting your hips move at the same time.

“C-can’t… doesn’t stop,” he manages to groan, and you bring your hand to his nape, caressing his hair as he rides out his orgasm.

When he finally finishes, though, his head falls on top of your breasts, his mouth finding your nipple and playing with it before sucking it fully into his mouth.

“Easy, Bucky,” you moan, but he keeps going, though.

You have to pull his hair, to make him stop.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I need to uh… I’m tired.”

You’re back to your shy self. But his smile still makes you feel so relaxed.

“Got you tired, huh?” He winks, giving your breasts a kiss before pressing his lips against yours. “Fuck, I’ve never been so aroused in my entire life. Won’t even mention how happy I am.”

“Me neither,” you whisper.

“Well, we need to get used to it.”

You laugh so happily that you think your chest will explode. It’s surreal.

“You owe me that dinner after all.”

“A million dinners.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Trying to charm me?”

He pecks you one more time before getting out of you with a whimper.

“I’ve already done it.”

It’s weird to be empty like this again, but seeing your come and wetness on his pubic hair or dripping out of your pussy just to soak the sheets beneath you distracts you. You made a mess.

“We need to clean this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says distractedly as he uses his index finger to push some come back inside you. Jesus! “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You smile. “You’re a whore.”

“Your whore.” He slowly gets out of bed, grabbing his shorts from the floor.

“Want me to go?” You ask all of a sudden, gaining a confused look from him.

“Why would I want that? Unless you do, of course…” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix it a little. “But I want you to stay.”

“Saw you dressing.” You bring your knees up just to put your chin on top of them. You feel extra shy.

He smiles. “Just gonna get you some water. I don’t want you dehydrated.”

Bucky knew Steve was in the kitchen as soon as he went down the stairs. He smiles casually, not giving him a second look as he goes straight to the fridge. It’s not like he hasn’t seen him in shorts or shirtless before, and Bucky knows he knew exactly what happened upstairs.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve’s tone is so obvious Bucky almost laughs.

“Not sleepy yet. What about you? You’re alright, punk?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking a sip from his own glass of water; his hands tightly wrapped around the glass.

“Still mad about earlier? You know I’m right.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s all good.”

Bucky sighs dramatically. He loves Steve, he is his brother, but sometimes he is so annoying.

“Well, try to get some sleep. I suggest you wear some earplugs or something, though,” Bucky suggests casually, taking a whole bottle of water. “We wouldn’t want you too sleepy tomorrow. And the night is young.” He even winks at Steve, making him clear his throat.

“Buck…”

“Not a super soldier perk, I know, but you understand, right?” The smirk he suddenly gives Steve is almost sinister. “She chose me after all, and I gotta let her test-drive me. Have a good night!”

Even though he turns around, Bucky doesn’t miss the way Steve’s hold gets so tight that his glass almost breaks.

Bucky doesn’t regret it. He had it coming when he thought you’d choose him.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x agent!reader #bucky barnes x agent!femalereader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #my stories #my fanfics #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #sebastian stan #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x agent! female reader

2K notes · View notes

pucksandpower · 1 month

Text

Welcome to Miami

Lando Norris x Messi!Reader

Summary: a crazy weekend in Miami leaves Lando with his first Formula 1 win, one very pissed off football legend, and a baby-shaped surprise set to arrive in just about nine months

Warnings: 18+ content and unplanned pregnancy

Note: based on a request by @glitterquadricorn that I may have ended up going a little overboard with

You wake up with a pounding headache, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming through the hotel room window. As you blink your eyes into focus, you realize you’re not in your own bed. The sheets are unfamiliar, the decor is generic and impersonal.

Panic starts to set in as you try to reconstruct the previous night’s events.

The space next to you is still warm, indented from where someone else was recently lying. You glance down at your lack of clothes and tousled hair. Yep, definitely had a one-night stand.

Wracking your brain, you vaguely recall meeting a charming stranger at the club, letting him buy you drinks until everything became a blur of flirtatious banter and wandering hands.

Your phone is on the nightstand and you grab it, hoping for some clues. A new contact catches your eye: “Lando 🍆”. You snort at the stupid name and obvious (if cringey) innuendo. At least he has a sense of humor.

You wonder what kind of guy calls himself Lando these days.

As you get dressed and leave the hotel, already trying to put the awkward walk of shame behind you, fragments of the night come back in flashes. Lando’s warm blue-green eyes crinkling at the corners when he laughed. His skilled hands roaming over your body. The way he whispered filthy praises in your ear between searing kisses.

You shiver, feeling an unexpected pang of disappointment that you’ll never see him again. But a one-night stand is just that — one night. No need to dwell on the best sex you’ve had in … well, maybe ever.

When you arrive home in the early afternoon, your dad greets you at the door with a knowing smirk.

“Have a good night, mija?” Leo teases, taking in your mussed appearance.

You roll your eyes, not wanting to give him any details. “It was fine.”

He chuckles. “If you say so. I’m just glad you’re home safe.”

Over the next few weeks, you put Lando out of your mind completely. Your life goes on as normal — training with the University of Miami’s football team, doing promotional appearances, and spending time with family and friends.

But then one morning about a month later, you wake up feeling nauseous. You brush it off as a stomach bug at first.

When the queasiness persists for several days along with strange cravings and bouts of fatigue, a nagging suspicion forms in your mind. You dig through your bathroom cabinets until you find an old pregnancy test leftover from a scare last year.

Your hands are shaking as you wait for the result. This can’t be happening. You were so careful with Lando, you’re almost certain … but maybe not careful enough.

The little plastic wand displays two solid pink lines. Positive.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, feeling like the ground has dropped out from underneath you.

How could you have been so stupid? Getting knocked up from a drunken one-night stand with a guy you can’t even remember properly. What are you going to do? How will you tell your parents? What about your athletic career?

A million thoughts race through your panic-stricken mind as you try to process this massive, life-altering situation. You want to call your best friend and cry, but you’re almost too overwhelmed to formulate words.

Part of you wants to be furious at Lando, that reckless idiot who came inside you so carelessly. But you know you’re just as much to blame. You obviously consented, you just can’t recollect the exact circumstances.

God, why did you let yourself get so sloppy drunk and make such terrible decisions?

You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm yourself. Okay, first things first — you need to confirm this with a visit to the doctor. And if it’s still positive, you’ll have to figure out your next steps. Tell your family, decide whether to keep the baby or not. That’s still your choice, at least.

Your mind keeps drifting back to Lando, wishing you knew more about him than just a stupid contact name. Was that even his real name? What did he do for a living? Where was he from? Was he ready for the responsibility of being a father? Not that it mattered — you barely knew him. For all you knew, he could be married or secretly twisted.

No, you reason with yourself, trying to shut down that line of thinking, he seemed like a good guy. At least in the moment. Even through your tequila-soaked haze, you got a feeling of genuine warmth and kindness from him. Maybe you’re both just a couple of random people who made a reckless mistake after having too much fun together.

You take another breath and stand up, your mind made up. First, you’ll go to the doctor and get an official test. Then you’ll deal with everything else from there. There’s no use panicking until you confirm this is actually happening.

But deep down, you know this cheap little test is accurate. You’re pregnant with a virtual stranger’s baby. And in that moment, feeling so lost and overwhelmed and terrified, you can’t help but wonder — who the hell is Lando?

***

You sit on the couch, hands trembling as you clutch the results of your blood test. Tears stream down your face as the weight of the situation crushes down on you.

How could you have been so reckless? So stupid? You’re supposed to be a role model, setting an example for young girls. And now you’re pregnant from a one-night stand with some random guy.

The shame and fear swirl inside you until you can barely breathe. You need to tell your dad. He’ll be so disappointed in you. But you can’t keep this a secret, it will only get harder as your belly grows.

You hear the front door open and your dad’s familiar footsteps. Bracing yourself, you call out in a shaky voice, “Papa? Can you come here please?”

Leo wanders into the living room, his expression turning to immediate concern when he sees your tear-stained face. “Mija, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as you try to find the words. “I … I’m pregnant,” you finally choke out.

His eyes go wide with shock. “Pregnant? How …” Realization dawns on his face. “Was this from that night you came home ...” He doesn’t need to finish the question.

You nod miserably, a fresh wave of tears falling. “I’m so sorry, Papa. I was drunk and stupid and … and I don’t even know who the father is, not really.” The words tumble out in a rush. “Just some guy I met at a club, his name was Lando or something. I barely remember anything!”

To your surprise, your dad’s expression softens into something like sympathy instead of the anger or disappointment you expected. He moves to sit beside you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulders.

“Shh, it’s alright mija. I’m not happy about this situation, but I’m not angry at you either. We all make mistakes.” He pauses, seeming to think something over. “This Lando guy … was it around the time of the Miami Grand Prix in early May?”

You nod again, not understanding the connection. “I think so, why?”

A look of recognition crosses your dad’s face. “There’s a young driver in Formula 1. I’m a bit of a fan actually, been following his career when I have the chance. It’s not the most common name.”

Your breath catches in your throat as the pieces fall into place. The drunk recollections of warm color-changing eyes and a charming smile. The weird name followed by that stupid eggplant emoji in your contacts.

It all fits.

“Oh my god … you think the father is Lando Norris? Like, the Formula 1 driver?” Part of you wants to dismiss the idea as ridiculous, but another part feels an undeniable certainty that your dad has hit the nail on the head.

Leo nods firmly. “I think it’s highly likely. He was in Miami for the race that weekend. Reckless kid probably went out partying after finally managing to win.”

There’s a hard edge to your dad’s voice at that last part. You can’t really blame his protectiveness — finding out your daughter is pregnant from a one-night stand, especially with a relative celebrity, can’t be easy for any father.

“What am I going to do?” You whisper, scared all over again at the massive upheaval your life is facing.

But your dad just pulls you into a tighter hug, his touch reassuring and strong. “We’ll figure it out together, mija. Don’t worry. If this Lando character is the father, he’ll damn well take responsibility. I’ll make sure of it.”

You let out a shaky breath, letting your dad’s words soothe you. He’s right — you’re not in this alone. And if Lando Norris really is the father, well, he signed up for this whether he knew it or not.

“Thank you, Papa. I was so scared to tell you, but I shouldn’t have been. I’m lucky to have you.” You hug him fiercely, fresh tears spilling but this time born of reassurance instead of fear.

Leo just holds you close, his embrace full of fatherly love and protection. “Always, mija. I’ve got your back, no matter what. We’ll get through this together.”

After a few moments, he pulls back, his expression turning more stern. “And as for this Lando kid, he better step up and be a man about this situation. Because if he tries to abandon you or this baby ...” He lets the implied threat hang in the air.

You can’t help but give a watery laugh. “I have a feeling he won’t want to mess with you. Not if he knows what’s good for him.”

Your dad allows a small smile at that. “Smart boy. Now, do you have a way to contact him? I’m sure someone can get us his information if not.”

You think for a moment, then remember — your phone contacts. You grab your cell and pull up the fateful entry.

“Here, just this number with the stupid eggplant emoji.” Your cheeks flush a little as you say it.

Leo arches an eyebrow at that but doesn’t comment. Instead, he takes out his own phone and dials the number, his expression hardening with determination.

“Right, listen up, Lando Norris ...” he begins, leaving no room for argument.

You take a steadying breath as your dad starts laying down the law to the man who knocked up his precious daughter. For the first time since staring at those two pink lines, you feel a tiny kernel of hope taking root.

No matter what happens, you’re not alone in this. Your dad has your back, and Lando — well, Lando better prepare himself. Because when Leo Messi demands you take responsibility for your actions, you don’t dare say no.

***

Lando jolts awake to the harsh buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand. He blinks blearily at the harsh red numbers of the alarm clock — 2:51 am. Who the hell is calling at this ungodly hour?

He fumbles for the phone, squinting at the unknown number with a +1 country code. Probably a spam call from across the pond. He’s tempted to just silence it, but something makes him swipe to answer with a groggy “Hello?”

“Lando Norris?” The deep voice on the other end is vaguely familiar, but Lando can’t quite place it in his sleep-addled state.

“Yeah, this is him. Who’s this?” He tries and fails to smoother a huge yawn.

“This is Lionel Messi.”

Lando’s eyes shoot wide open, any lingering drowsiness evaporating like he’s been doused with ice water. Leo freaking Messi is on the phone with him? His brain scrambles to comprehend what’s happening.

“I … uh … Mr. Messi, sir. This is … I mean … wow. What an honor!” He cringes at his own stammering, feeling very much like a star-struck fanboy rather than a fellow professional athlete.

Messi’s voice remains calm but firm. “I’ll get right to the point. Do you remember a young woman you slept with recently? The night of the Miami Grand Prix a few months ago?”

Lando feels his stomach drop out. Suddenly this phone call is taking on a very different context than just a casual chat with a sports legend. He racks his brain, trying to recall the handful of women he’d casually hooked up with around that time.

There was that petite blonde from the club after sprint qualifying … no, she was just a make-out in the back alley behind the valet. The pair of Brazilian bombshell twins he’d brought back to his hotel room on Saturday … no, they made him get tested after that escapade just to be safe.

Then it clicks into place — the gorgeous young woman with a killer smile that he’d met at the LIV Nightclub afterparty. They had danced and drank together all night until everything descended into a sweaty, semi-public grope fest in one of the VIP booths before he convinced her to come back to his suite.

He remembers her gasping and whimpering his name as he pounded into her from behind. Remembers the way her nails raked down his back when he made her come apart with his tongue. Remembers being too drunk and worked up to put on a condom before sinking back into her tight, wet heat and ...

Oh shit.

“I … yes, sir. I think I know who you’re referring to,” Lando forces out, his mouth incredibly dry.

“Good. Then you’ll remember getting my daughter pregnant that night as well.”

Lando actually feels the blood drain from his face, a rushing sound filling his ears. He must have misheard, right? There’s no way Leo freaking Messi just said Lando got his daughter pregnant!

“I … I’m sorry … your what?” He sputters out dumbly.

Messi’s tone takes on a steely edge. “My daughter. The young woman you slept with, she’s my daughter. And now she’s pregnant with your child.”

The room starts to spin. Lando tries to force air into his lungs, feeling like he might actually pass out. “Oh my god, I … I had no idea! We were both so drunk, I never would have … oh fuck, I’m so sorry, sir!”

“Sorry doesn’t really fix this, does it?” Messi’s voice is like sharpened steel. “You got my little girl pregnant from some drunken fling and now she has to deal with all of this.”

“I … yes, you’re right. Completely right.” Lando presses trembling fingers to his throbbing temples. This can’t actually be happening, right? “What … what do you want me to do? I’ll do anything, whatever you need!”

There’s a weighted pause on the line before Messi speaks again, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“First, you’re going to meet with me and my daughter in person so we can discuss this situation. Then you’re going to take responsibility and be a part of this child’s life, understood? Step up and be a man about it.”

“Yes! Yes, absolutely, of course!” Lando is nearly shouting into the phone, desperation and panic clawing at his throat. “Whatever you want, sir. I’ll be there. Just tell me when and where.”

“Good. I’ll have my people set it up and send the details to your team.” There’s a hint of grudging approval in Messi’s voice now, like he’s satisfied Lando appears to be taking this seriously. “I suggest you get some sleep, you’re going to need it.”

The line goes dead before Lando can respond. He stares dumbly at the silent phone in his hand for several long moments, trying to process everything.

Leo Messi’s daughter.

Pregnant.

With his baby.

Holy shit, what has he done? What is he going to do? How did one reckless, drunken night blow up into such a massive catastrophe?

His head is spinning and he can feel his overtaxed body starting to shut down from the shock and stress of the harrowing phone call. He tries to take a deep breath, pushing away the panic and leaning back against the pillows.

Sleep. Right. He needs sleep if he has any hope of dealing with … with all of this. But how can he possibly rest now?

Lando’s eyes start to drift closed despite his whirling thoughts. His body has other plans, sucking him under into blessed unconsciousness as he slumps fully back onto the mattress.

The last thing he’s dimly aware of is his phone slipping from his hand and clattering to the floor, followed by his own body going entirely limp.

When Lando finally does manage to sleep, it’s to the terrifying vision of Leo Messi’s furious face snarling “you got my daughter pregnant” over and over again behind his closed eyelids.

***

The flight from Nice to Miami feels like it takes an eternity, but also happens in a terrifying blur. Lando can barely remember booking the first available ticket, throwing some clothes into an overnight bag, or making his way to the airport in a daze. He runs on autopilot, his mind spinning in frantic circles.

He got Leo Messi’s daughter pregnant. How is this his life?

A private chauffeur is waiting at the baggage claim when Lando deplanes in Miami, holding up a printed sign with his name. Of course Messi would have people to handle something like this.

Lando swallows hard and approaches the stern-faced driver. “I’m Lando Norris. Uh, Mr. Messi is expecting me?”

The chauffeur gives him an appraising look but doesn’t respond beyond a curt nod. He turns on his heel, expecting Lando to follow.

The drive to the Messis’ palatial Miami mansion is silent and tense. Lando fights the urge to fidget anxiously, his knee bouncing until he forces himself still.

Get it together, man. This is it.

All too soon, they’re pulling through an immaculate gate onto perfectly manicured grounds surrounding the huge home. Lando takes a steadying breath as the driver gets his bag from the trunk.

Then the front door is swinging open and there’s Leo Messi himself, looking as intimidating as Lando has ever seen the football icon. His expression is stony, jaw clenched tight as he measures Lando up.

Before Lando can even open his mouth, Messi beats him to it, tone leaving no room for argument.

“I don’t like you.”

The words are like a kick to the gut. Lando forces himself to hold the steely gaze, giving a small nod.

“I understand, sir. I’ve made a terrible mistake and you have every right to be angry with me. I’ll accept whatever consequences I have to.” His voice is strong, despite the way his heart is jack-hammering in his chest.

Messi holds the intense eye contact a moment more before giving a short nod of what might be begrudging respect. He turns and heads inside, clearly expecting Lando to follow.

The foyer opens into an elegant living room where a familiar woman is sitting on one of the plush couches.

You.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as memories from that hazy night come rushing back. Your skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat as you moved rhythmically to the music. Your throaty laugh and sparkling eyes as you flirted shamelessly over your fourth … no fifth … mojito. The velvet silk of your hair brushing his face as you ground down against his lap.

He swallows hard, trying not to stare. The situation is awkward enough without dwelling on the admittedly incredible sex that caused this whole mess. Though he can’t deny the sharp spike of pure physical want that hits his gut at the sight of you.

Your eyes are wide and nervous as you take him in. “Um … hi.”

“Hi,” he replies simply, feeling incredibly self-conscious under the weighty stare of your legendary father.

An agonizing beat of silence stretches between the three of you.

“Well?” Leo prompts impatiently, making you both jump. “You got my daughter pregnant. What do you plan to do about it?”

The blunt words make Lando’s face flush hot, but he forces himself to meet your father’s stern gaze head-on.

“Whatever I need to do, sir. I’ll take full responsibility. Financially, emotionally, being there for the child … anything you need from me.” He pauses, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. “That is … if the mother wants me to be involved as well?”

He looks at you then, trying to convey his sincerity. Despite the casual nature of your hook-up, he meant what he said — he will step up and do the right thing for this kid.

His kid.

You seem to consider his words for a long moment before giving a small nod. “Yes … yes, I’d like you to be involved if you’re willing. This is as much my responsibility as yours. We … we can figure this out. Together?”

The uncertain note in your voice tugs at something in Lando’s chest. For all your father’s bluster, you just sound like a young woman in a scary, overwhelming situation. Just like him.

“Together,” he agrees firmly, returning your nod. “We’ll, ah, we’ll be good co-parents. For the baby.”

The words feel strange leaving his lips, but also fill him with a sense of resolve and determination.

Leo watches the exchange between you both like a hawk, his expression unreadable. When he speaks again, his words are measured but dismissive.

“Get it sorted out then. Find a way to make this work. I don’t care about the details as long as you two take care of my grandchild properly.”

With that, he gives a curt nod and turns to exit the room, leaving you and Lando to your own devices. The sudden lack of his intimidating presence seems to deflate the tension somewhat.

You let out a long, shaky breath, shooting Lando a wry look. “He’s … taking this about as well as could be expected, all things considered.”

Lando can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh at that, some of the nervous knot in his stomach loosening slightly. “Yeah, I’ll say. Your dad is legitimately terrifying, you know that?”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” you say with a small smile.

An odd sense of camaraderie falls over you both then — two young people bonding over how Lando quite literally knocked you up. It’s almost enough for him to relax a bit.

Then you glance down at your still-flat stomach and all humor drains away. “So … co-parents, huh? You really want to do this?”

Lando doesn’t even have to think about it. “Of course. It’s my kid too, yeah? My responsibility, like I said.” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s not exactly how I pictured becoming a father, but … I’m in this all the way. For the little one’s sake.”

Something in your expression softens at his words and a tiny smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. “Thank you, Lando. That … that really means a lot to hear.”

Before he can think better of it, Lando closes the distance between you and pulls you into an impulsive hug. You stiffen for just a moment before relaxing against him.

“Hey, we’re gonna be okay, you and me,” he murmurs as he holds you close. “We’ve got this, baby mama.”

You stiffen again and pull back sharply at the words, a look of mortification on your face. Lando frowns in confusion until a familiar gravelly voice cuts through the room.

“Lando Norris, I swear if you ever call my daughter that again, they’ll never find your body.”

Leo Messi is back, leveling Lando with a look that would liquefy steel. The driver nearly swallows his tongue, flushing scarlet.

“Y-yes, sir! Of course, sir! It, ah, it won’t happen again!” He stammers out, mentally making a note to permanently delete those words from his vocabulary.

Messi just grunts in response, apparently satisfied, before retreating from the room once more.

You’re staring at Lando with wide eyes and badly-suppressed laughter. He groans, dropping his face into his hands.

“Why did I say that? God, I’m an idiot.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, that smile breaking free. “This is just … all a bit surreal, isn’t it?”

Lando peeks through his fingers to meet your gaze, unable to stop the rueful grin that spreads across his own face.

“Just a bit, yeah.” He drops his hands with a defeated chuckle. “But your dad’s right — we’ve got to take this seriously for the little one.”

You nod, smile fading into a look of grim determination. “We do. Which means you can’t call me baby mama if you actually want to stay alive to see your child.”

“Deal,” Lando agrees readily, feeling lighter than he has since your father first called to drop that bomb on him.

Maybe co-parenting won’t be easy, but somehow he gets the sense you two just might be able to figure it out. And with the entire weight of Leo freaking Messi’s protective rage motivating him, Lando is damn sure going to try his best.

***

Ten Months Later

The vibrant Miami sun beams down on you as you carefully lift Maia out of her stroller, cradling the bundle of joy in your arms. Your daughter’s wide, curious eyes dart around, taking in all the sights and sounds of the paddock for the first time.

“There they are! My two favorite girls,” Lando’s voice rings out as he jogs over, already wearing his team gear in preparation for the drivers parade. He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek before turning his attention to Maia. “And how’s my little princess doing today?”

Maia lets out a delighted squeal and you can’t help but smile at the pure adoration on Lando’s face as he gently brushes a finger over her chubby cheek. “She’s been an angel all morning. I think she knows this is a big day for her first race.”

“That’s my girl,” Lando grins. “Going to be a little racer before we know it.”

“Lando! There you are, mate.” The Aussie accent cuts through the paddock as Lando’s teammate bounds over. “I’ve been looking everywhere for … oh wow, is that her?”

Oscar’s eyes go wide as they land on Maia, taking in her tiny features with an almost comical look of awe. “She’s … she’s so small,” he says dumbly.

“What did you expect, she’s a baby,” Lando scoffs with a roll of his eyes, though his tone is good-natured. “Do you want to hold her?”

“Can I?” Oscar asks eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet like an overexcited puppy.

You laugh and carefully transfer Maia into Oscar’s waiting arms, guiding his hands to properly support her head. “Just watch the grabby hands. She’s got a pretty strong grip these days.”

Oscar nods rapidly, looking a bit intimidated as he gingerly cradles Maia against his chest. But the instant she lets out a little gurgling coo, his face splits into the biggest, most boyish grin you’ve ever seen.

“Hey there, little Norris,” he murmurs softly, instantly transfixed. “I’m your favorite Uncle Oscar.”

“Oi, who said you get to be the favorite uncle?” Another voice cuts in as Carlos saunters over, immediately zeroing in on the form in Oscar’s arms. “Is that her? Dios mio, she’s gorgeous!”

Without hesitation, Carlos plucks Maia right out of Oscar’s hold, completely ignoring the other driver’s sputtering. “Well hello there, princesa. Don’t worry, your Tío Carlos has got you.”

Maia blinks up at the new face peering down at her, tiny fists waving as if to grab at the Spaniard’s perfectly coiffed hair. Carlos simply grins and nuzzles his nose against her cheek, seemingly not caring one bit about any damage the squirming infant in his arms can do.

“Are you seeing this?” Lando mock-whispers to you, looping an arm around your waist and leaning in conspiratorially. “How are we supposed to get her back now?”

You stifle a giggle behind your hand, watching in amusement as Carlos and Oscar descend into bickering over who Maia’s favorite uncle will be — only to be interrupted as another figure appears beside them.

“What do we have here?” Daniel Ricciardo pipes up with a wide grin, hands shoved casually in his pockets. “Don’t tell me you two are fighting over babysitting duties already?”

“Something like that, mate,” Lando chuckles, reaching out to clap Daniel on the shoulder in greeting. “Up for putting your name in the hat too?”

“You know it!” Daniel agrees easily, quickly sidestepping Carlos to peer down at Maia with a wide smile. “Hey there, little monkey. Look at you all bright-eyed and curious.”

Amazingly, Maia seems entirely unperturbed by all the fussing going on around her. She simply blinks placidly up at each new face, soaking it all in like a tiny sponge. At one point, she even lets out a delighted squeal and flails her arms — prompting a fresh round of cooing from the three drivers clustered around her.

“Aw, I think she likes me best already,” Daniel declares with a wink, gently booping Maia’s button nose and making her giggle.

You shake your head in fond exasperation even as Lando tugs you tighter against his side, completely content to bask in the scene. That is, until Daniel’s next words nearly make you choke.

“So just how old is this little angel?” He asks idly, eyes still trained on Maia’s sweet face. “Four months now?”

“Three months and one week,” Lando answers automatically — only to tense a split second later, mouth falling open in realization. “Oh. Oh.”

The smug grin that slowly spreads across Daniel’s face is borderline devlish as it clicks into place for everyone exactly when Maia would have been … well, conceived. A heavy silence falls over the group, disturbed only by Maia’s happy gurgling as she remains oblivious to the sudden shift.

“Well, well, well,” Daniel drawls, dark eyes dancing with mirth as he bounces Maia playfully in his arms. “I think someone got a little overexcited celebrating his win last year, didn’t he?”

The only response is a strangled squawk from Lando as his face flushes bright red — no doubt remembering exactly how the two of you celebrated his first time on top of the Formula 1 podium. Meanwhile, Carlos and Oscar openly gape at the revelation, eyes nearly bugging out of their skulls.

“Don’t you dare,” Lando manages to choke out, stabbing an accusatory finger in Daniel’s direction. “We are not having this conversation here.”

“Why not?” Daniel shrugs blithely, gently jostling Maia to the crook of his elbow in a way that has her giggling. “It’s a perfectly natural thing, nothing to be ashamed about. That must’ve been one hell of a victory lap!”

The innuendo hangs heavily in the air, made all the more mortifying by the lecherous waggle of Daniel’s eyebrows. Lando, meanwhile, looks like he’s two seconds away from spontaneously combusting on the spot.

“I’m going to kill you,” he mutters through gritted teeth, dragging a hand over his rapidly reddening face.

Before Daniel can respond with another quip, however, you quickly step in — scooping Maia out of his arms with a stern glare. “That’s enough of that, I think.”

Daniel wisely snaps his mouth shut at the warning in your tone, offering a cheeky salute instead. “I’ll lay off … for now.”

With a wink and a last jaunty grin towards a still-sputtering Lando, he bids the group farewell and heads off to prepare for the race. Oscar, seemingly remembering you’re all congregating in a very public place, manages to pick his jaw up off the ground long enough to clear his throat awkwardly.

“Right, well … I need to go, you know, do driver things,” he mumbles before beating a hasty retreat, stumbling over his own feet in his haste.

Carlos, for his part, has the audacity to start outright cackling the second Oscar is out of earshot.

“You never fail to entertain,” he manages between wheezing gasps, wiping away mirthful tears from the corners of his eyes.

Lando flushes even deeper, if possible, and shoots you a helpless look. You simply raise an eyebrow, letting him squirm for a moment before taking pity.

“Alright, that’s enough out of you,” you chide Carlos lightly, shifting Maia higher on your hip. “Unless you want to be the one explaining the birds and the bees to her when the time comes?”

That seems to sober Carlos up somewhat, his laughter trailing off into a few more chuckles as he waves a hand dismissively. “You wound me, amiga. As if I would corrupt the ears of such an innocent little one.”

You give him a pointed look and he holds up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’m done.”

With a roguish wink, Carlos reaches out to gently pinch Maia’s cheek — earning a bright smile from the bubbly infant.

“You’ll learn soon enough that your papá can be un poco loco sometimes, princesa.”

“She really doesn’t need to learn that at all, thanks,” Lando grumbles, shooting his friend an exasperated glare.

You can’t help but shake your head fondly at the pair of them, even as Lando tucks you snugly against his side. For all their bickering, it’s abundantly clear just how enamored all the drivers are with Maia already.

The tender moment is interrupted, however, by a voice calling out for your boyfriend from across the paddock.

“Lando, we need you over in the garage. The parade will be starting any minute now,” a press officer arrives to herd him away.

Lando exhales a put-upon sigh, dropping a kiss to the top of Maia’s head before meeting your gaze apologetically. “Duty calls, I suppose. You’ll be okay here with my littlest fan club?”

You wave him off with a warm smile. “We’ll be fine. Just focus on having a good race, yeah? Maia and I will be cheering you on.”

The brilliant grin Lando flashes you is enough to make your heart flutter. “How could I do anything else with my two favorite cheerleaders?”

With one last lingering kiss, he tears himself away — offering a half-hearted wave to Carlos before disappearing through the paddock. An oddly serene quiet falls in his absence, the crowd breaking up to get settled before the race.

Carlos seems to sense your pensive mood, stepping up beside you to gently bump his shoulder against yours.

“You know, he really has changed since becoming a papá,” the older driver muses, casting a fond look down at Maia. “Far as I can tell, it’s done wonders for him.”

You smile softly, bouncing Maia gently as you watch Lando’s retreating back weave through the controlled chaos of the paddock. “He’s been … amazing. And he loves Maia more than life itself. My father complains that he has run out of things to threaten Lando over, which is the biggest compliment coming from him.”

Your daughter simply blinks at the two of you for a long moment before that sunny smile you’ve grown to adore stretches across her face, little fists waving happily in the air. You can’t help but chuckle at her antics, brushing a knuckle over her soft cheek.

As the bright Miami sun shines down and anticipation slowly builds in the background, you feel a surge of nearly overwhelming contentment. No matter what twists and turns life throws your way from here, you decide, you’ll always be able to find your way back to moments like this.

So much has changed in the course of a year, but you truly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Even if Lando still can’t quite look your father in the eye.

2K notes · View notes