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msbigredmachine · 4 months

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Santa Daddy - A Roman Reigns One-Shot

All the Tribal Chief wants for Christmas is you.

PAIRING: Roman Reigns x OC

Word Count: 3.7k words

A/N: Sorry I brought this in so late, I got sick. Better late than never though! Enjoy!

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It was Christmas morning. Your face was a picture of utmost focus as you wiped away the hair stuck to your forehead. It was a mini madness in your open layout kitchen, but at least it was your controlled chaos. In a few hours' time, a select mix of friends, co-workers and family members would converge at your place for a Christmas sleepover for the ages, to mark your first holidays as Roman Reigns' fiancée.

What a crazy eighteen months it has been for you. If anyone told you that within that timeframe, you would escape from your abusive boyfriend, move states, find a new job and a new place to live, you would have laughed in their face.

And Lord knows how you'd have reacted if they added that you'd be dating a professional wrestler in that same timeframe. And not just any wrestler, but the marquee name, the number one guy in WWE. But here you were. In the house you lived in together. Diamond ring on your finger. Prepping dinner and being quite giddy about it too. It had been a long time since you were giddy about anything, but that changed after you said yes to a coffee date with Roman a lifetime ago, it felt like now.

The honey-glazed chicken, roasted potatoes and gravy were ready, as were the salads and greens. Your centerpiece was undoubtedly the smoky Nigerian jollof rice you couldn't wait for everyone to taste. The chocolate was fragrant as it melted in the pot and the sweet crème caramel was setting nicely. You really wanted everything to go smoothly today. Dinner first, after which everyone would gather in the den for gift swaps, karaoke, play some raunchy adult games, then go to bed whenever they liked before leaving in the morning for their drives home. It was the perfect itinerary and you planned to make sure it was.

You were whisking the chocolate sauce on the stove when the shuffling of a familiar pair of size fifteens invaded your ears. Your heart pounded a little harder anfd your brown eyes lit up as he walked into the kitchen, drinking him in with your heart-shaped mouth curving into a smile. It was incredible how he gave off the exact same aura and energy as his grand entrances to the ring with just entering a small room. It was intimidating in the sexiest way.

"I see someone found one of their gifts." Your voice was soft and sweet - a tone you used only for him - with the gentle tinge of a tease. Your man looked so good in his red Christmas-themed pajama set that matched yours, which he complemented with a Santa hat covering the top of his head.

Roman came to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around you as he kissed your neck. "You look amazing in yours," he told you. Taking a deep breath, he welcomed your fragrance deep into his lungs. Your scent reminded him of hot chocolate on a cold winter's day and the roaring fireplace several feet away in the living room. It reminded him of home. You were home.

"Merry Christmas, my beautiful wife-to-be. I love you." His voice was a low, tender rumble in your ear, and you shivered slightly as his hands massaged your waist, his warm breath caressing the sensitive nape of your neck.

"I love you too, Daddy. Merry Christmas," you greeted back, absorbing the aura, the love and affection radiating from him like a bright light. Gosh, how did you get so lucky, winding up with this incredibly handsome, sweet, gentle giant of a man as a life partner?

"It smells so good in here, babe," Roman complimented, dipping his finger in the gravy boat for a taste. "I wish you woke me up to help out," he added sheepishly.

You shook your head immediately. "Don't worry about it. You needed your rest from all the traveling you've been doing."

"What time do the festivities start again?"

You turned off the stove to temp the chocolate down and turned to him. "Not till like, three."

"Hmm, and it's only nine-thirty now. That's a whole lotta time to ourselves," he pointed out, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively as he tugged at the waistband of your pajama pants. "I know I got a lot of presents, but Daddy wants to open this one first. Can I?" he asked with a syrupy sweet voice that promised something much more carnal.

"That depends on if you were naughty or nice this year," you replied.

The dramatic pout that came with his puppy dog eyes was so cute. "I promise I've been a good boy."

You arched a manicured brow at him. "You sure? Not even the tiniest bit bad?"

Roman puffed out his chest and grinned proudly. "I'm positive. I made my woman very happy this year. That counts as good, right?"

The glittering rock on your finger answered that question. "Definitely," you agreed.

"Exactly. By the way, look up."

You followed his pointed finger. A sprig of mistletoe dangled from the cabinet right above you. You met your fiancé's stormy stare, and your pussy purred from the mischief and lust you saw in them. You licked your lips with anticipation, knowing full well he was going to have his way with you, like he always did. Like you always wanted him to.

"C'mere." He guided your face to his own with his hand on the back of your neck. Your hands clutched his broad shoulders as your lips melded together in a soft, passionate dance. You stood in the kitchen for what felt like hours, worshiping each other's mouths, the smacking of your lips and hushed sighs mingling with the soft Christmas ballad playing through Alexa.

As you kissed, Roman couldn't help but get turned on. He let his hands slip down into the back of your pants and over your backside, molding your bare ass cheeks in his palms while you pressed yourself against him. You continued the increasingly intense makeout session, neither of you seeming to be in any hurry to stop.

"Santa Daddy thinks you've been a good girl this year," he murmured against your lips, "so good that you deserve a special present."

"Mmm, I love presents, Santa Daddy," you replied, allowing him to pick you up and place you on the countertop. He stepped into the space between your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist, while your arms curled around his shoulders as you dove into the kiss. He caressed your mouth with his luscious tongue in a way that made your knees weak. Your hands and his moved in unison, pulling off each other's clothes until you were both completely nude. The second your top was off, his fingers teased your nipples, which instantly pebbled at his touch. His broad chest was hard and warm against your palms, and you scratched your nails along his ribs just to hear him hiss in a breath right before his mouth latched onto your throat. You whimpered and gripped his hair. God, his mouth and tongue felt so good on your skin. He nibbled and sucked on you while massaging your right breast, and you felt the pit of stomach heat up with the rabid need for your pussy to be filled. The moisture pooling between your thighs could probably fill a lake.

With your eyes closed as you savored the sensations, you never quite saw him take the pot of chocolate, dip the whisk in it and wave it over your nipples. The chocolate that dripped onto your skin seared with heat, but his tongue was there to quickly lick it away before the pain registered as anything more than a turn-on.

"Mmm, that's tasty," he commented.

You watched him and his lethal mouth like a hawk. "You like that, Daddy?" you inquired, resting back on your elbows.

"Oh, I do." He drizzled more chocolate over your breasts. Your mind swam as he took his time sucking each soft flesh, activating your erogenous pressure point. He then dipped his finger in the warm chocolate then made a long trail down your lower belly. He licked that away, then used two fingers to paint your entire pussy with the hot chocolate, his face a mask of concentration as he worked on his masterpiece. Your body jerked and you sucked in a breath at the fire that raged between your legs. Then his tongue was down there, splitting your soft folds apart to delve into your sweetened essence.

Yanking the Santa hat off his head, your fingers threaded through his messy ponytail, pulling his face flush against you, writhing against him and begging for more. "Unnnh, babe, that feels so good," you groaned, your brain growing fuzzy as he French-kissed your pussy, pleasure licking at you with the same devastating impact as his tongue. "Fuck, baby, I love you!"

"I know," Roman moaned back, pushing your thighs further apart. "Spread your legs, baby...wider," he instructed you, his burly arms winding around your thighs and yanking you closer to him. "Mmm, perfect. Imma eat you off this counter, girl."

And he was. With gusto. Desperate for release, you tried to squirm but he had you pinned down to the kitchen island, keeping you still. You were panting hard as the tension coiled tighter in your belly. You were almost there, just a step away from that cliff, when he nuzzled his face against your wet pussy and flicked your hard little clit with his thumb. The pressure sent you over the edge and you moaned through the orgasm, your back arching against the cool surface of the counter. Your string of moans was an aphrodisiac to Roman, and he kept up his tender licking and sucking until your legs fell from his shoulders and you gave a shuddering sigh.

"Jesus," you whispered.

Roman resembled a kid in a candy store with his beard stained with cum and chocolate, eyes bright and lust-filled. He looked up, licked his lips with a smug smile and said, "Nothing tastes as good as you, baby," he praised, and your ego swelled. He always knew the right things to say to make you feel good. Twining your fingers in his, he pulled you upright and kissed your lips, sharing your tangy sweetness with you.

"Your turn," you announced, and slid carefully off the counter, pushing him to sit on one of the stools. You moved to take the pot of chocolate, but the three mason jars filled with homemade caramel sauce caught your eye. A devious little idea popped up in your head. Grabbing one, you unscrewed the cover, licking the sauce around the rim before grabbing Roman's dick with one hand, bringing the jar up to his plum-shaped tip.

"Fuck, girl," Roman shivered, his eyes wide when you dunked his dick right inside the jar. Your eyes shone excitedly as you pulled him back out, the thick, succulent syrup dripping down his pipe and around the rim of your hand.

"Mmm, look at all this sweetness on your dick, Daddy," you moaned, bending at the waist to capture his cock between your lips, your husky sigh vibrating against his sensitive skin. Roman moaned softly as you angled your bobbing head, sliding his dick further down your throat with the same rhythm as your hand stroking him, the sensations leaving him boneless.

"Shiiiit, just like that, baby, eat up my dick like a good girl, how's it taste, huh?" he managed to ask.

"Good," you hummed, working your tongue from the tip of his dick down to the veiny underside of his shaft, causing his breathing to grow labored as his cock throbbed in your hand.

"Oh my god, your tongue, dem juicy lips," Roman clutched your hair, watching you intensely. "Keep suckin' my dick, baby, show me what that mouth do."

Wordlessly, you drew his cock deeper into your mouth with a deep breath and started sucking him with only your jaw doing all of the work. His dick was more than sizable, but was no match for your mouth. Daddy had trained you well to handle all of that fat dick with your mouth and pussy. You paused to scoop more caramel sauce with his dick like a spoon, licking off every drop off his shaft with lavish swipes of your tongue.

"Put some on my balls," Roman instructed.

He held his dick up and out of the way while you rubbed a mix of chocolate and caramel all over his balls. As you sucked on them, Roman slowly massaged his dick, occasionally slapping your face with it. The visual of your arched back mesmerized him, the deliberate twerking of your plump ass cheeks as you pleasured him short-circuited his brain. Even hotter was the sight of his balls hidden in your mouth and the sauce mixture smeared on your chin. The contrast of the dark substance on your brown skin was so fucking sexy.

"That's it, baby, that's it...shit!" The Tribal Chief's deep voice was a strangled gasp, his breaths becoming even shallower as you popped his balls out to recapture his dick. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, lost in toe-curling pleasure as you lodged him in the back of your throat, your warm mouth swallowing around the base of his shaft like a suction. It was his turn to fidget in place, his fingers digging into your scalp as ecstasy loomed ever closer. "Baby I'm gon' come," he whined.

You moaned at his warning, the vibrations shuddering around his length. Your eyes locked with his as he started to fall apart. With a loud groan, he held your head still and gasped helplessly with each spurt of his cum gushing down your throat, his hips bucking from the force of his release. His eyes squeezed shut as he felt you swallow, drinking your fill, your tongue lapping up whatever you spilled. You pulled him out and gulped air back into your lungs, then glanced back up at him with those mischievous pretty eyes, pursing your pouty lips against his blunt head and making his cock twitch in your grasp.

"How the fuck am I still hard?" he half-laughed, half-choked, earning a proud grin from you.

"I got that magic mouth, baby," you declared haughtily, twisting your hand around him in gentle soothing strokes, "And you got this magic dick. You gonna put it on me, Santa Daddy? I know you want to."

"Damn right." He got off the chair and spun you around, bending you over the kitchen table. The tabletop remained cold against your bare, chocolate-streaked skin, and you shivered in response. It was only seconds before he guided your hands to grip the edges of the table in front of you. You moaned softly as he nudged your legs wider apart, hiking your ass slightly higher to press himself up against you.

"Ay, Alexa, turn that shit off, I wanna hear my girl scream for me," he growled at the air, and you burst out laughing when the kitchen fell into an abrupt silence.

His hard dick throbbed between your ass cheeks. He ran the thick head up and down the slit of your pussy lips. When he pushed the first few inches in, you whined pitifully. Your velvety womanhood pulled him in, eking a groan from the Tribal Chief as his big hands roamed your back and ass. His thrusts were slow at first, savoring the feel of your tight, wet pussy tugging at him with each languid stroke. You responded by bucking up against him, luring him even deeper into your body. You moaned together in mutual pleasure.

"God, so tight, so wet...bomb ass pussy," he grunted, smacking your ass and squeezing on the soft juicy flesh, knowing it would make you that much wetter as he stretched you open with that good dick. Your keening moans were nothing but fuel for him; he knew you loved it when he fucked you deep and hard and a little rough, ticking all your little sexual boxes that no one but him knew about. His rhythm was steady yet heavy, keeping you on edge with deep strokes right up on your g-spot. Leaning over you, he swept your hair out of your face to kiss your cheek, a hushed moan slipping from his throat when you squirmed against him, pressing your ass closer to his hips every time he pushed into you.

With the table pressing into your belly and his body trapping you against it, you felt his dick swell inside you, girthier and harder with every thrust. Your body was so sensitized from your previous orgasm that you felt another one build in record time. You wanted your second nut so bad, and you rolled your ass against him, hoping to put enough pressure on your clit to bring it on.

"Unnh yeah, throw that sexy ass back at me," Roman grunted with another hard smack to your ass which jiggled from the impact of his big hand. Said hand then made its way into your hair, the other gripping your waist as he grinded against you and you against him. He loved it; loved you, loved the feel of your bodies moving together, your juices dripping all over his dick, loved the fact that you couldn't seem to control the noises you were making as the kitchen echoed with the erotic sound of them.

"Oh, baby, I'm fuckin' close," you whimpered through your moans.

"How close?" he asked, his lips brushing soft kisses between your shoulder blades and trailing them down your back. His warm breath and his soft beard tickled your skin, and too aroused to answer, you merely whimpered again and bounced your ass more impatiently on his dick. The tension was there in your belly, swirling around so close to explosion, and you needed it like you needed air.

Roman's grip on your hair strengthened, anchoring himself to you. "Don't move. Lemme get that pussy." He was like a Ferrari engine, accelerating with harder pummeling thrusts that filled you to the brim. He was now balanced on just the balls of his feet in an effort to drive deeper into you, pounding you out until you were leaking down your thighs and all over his dick and balls. It felt so good. Too good.

"Yes, Daddy, beat that shit up...unnhhh, my god, I'm coming," you moaned long and loud as you unraveled like flimsy wrapping paper. Stars sparked behind your eyelids as the orgasm tore through you, leaving you shaking uncontrollably from its intensity.

"Mmm, there you go sweetheart, soak my dick, come all over it," he snickered proudly, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear. "Was that nut good, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy, so good," you grinded out, lightheaded, your eyes glazed over and unfocused, even more so as you felt his hand spread over the back of your neck and hold you down to the countertop, his hips winding against your ass as he stayed burying his long, girthy dick in your warm, snug depths.

"Good, cuz I'm 'bout to nut too...shit, baby girl, this pussy amazing...You gon' make me put a kid in you..."

The thought of him breeding you with his seed had your pussy clenching around his cock, the suckling sensation reducing his husky taunts into yet another helpless moan. You could tell from his breathing that he was indeed close, his frenzied thrusts becoming sloppier as white-hot pleasure surged through both of your bodies in incredible waves.

"Oh shit, Y/N," Roman grunted, squeezing your hips for dear life as something snapped inside him. Slamming his dick into you one last time, he went completely rigid with a shout as he came hard for you. The warm wet spurts of cum emptying inside you caused your body to shiver against his as you milked his dick dry. His heavy weight kept you pressed into the hard marble table, both of you so limp that it didn't seem to matter that you couldn't breathe. Somehow, you managed to stand back upright, making him do the same behind you. As he wrapped you up in a hug, he was still inside you, and you tilted your head up to gently bite his bottom lip before licking at his tongue. It made him smile, and you couldn't help but smile back as he shared a long, greedy kiss with you before finally pulling out with a groan, slapping your backside one more time as he stepped away.

"Save some of that chocolate stuff for us," he said, grinning when you shot him a questioning look. "I want you to use 'em on me again later tonight."

You picked up the two sets of pajamas off the floor. "Hmm, you won't be too tired from dinner and all that?"

"Too tired to fuck you? Never, my baby girl."

"Then I'll make sure to bring a jar of each." You laughed as his Adams apple and his cock bobbed simultaneously, his imagination running wild with all the nasty things you would do to him.

"Good idea. Nah, scratch that, great idea," he corrected himself with a chuckle, lifting you into his arms bridal-style and carrying you out of the kitchen. "Right now, we both need a shower."

"Why do I got a feeling this 'shower' is gonna keep our guests waiting?"

He laughed with you and ascended the stairs. "You know me so well."

It was two p.m. by the time he was through with you. When you determined that your legs could function properly again, you dragged yourself out of his bed, changed into another set of pajamas and made your way back downstairs to put the finishing touches on the food and the rest of the house. You had just finished cleaning up the kitchen when this man came up behind you and ran his hands all over your body. His dick was hard.

"Again?" you breathed, biting back a gasp when he started undoing the strings of your pants. The guests would be arriving anytime soon.

"Just one more," he groaned huskily in your ear, grabbing a jar of chocolate sauce, "I've missed you so much, baby, I need to taste you one more time..."

About half an hour later, the doorbell rang. Jey and his wife Larissa were your first guests. When the front door opened, they took one good look at you and Roman; disheveled clothing, hair out of place, the smear of sauce over your left breast and on the corner of Roman's lips, and put two and two together.

"Y'all nasty," Larissa giggled and entered the house, with Jey merely shaking his head behind her.

🎄THE END🎄

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This is definitely my final story for the year. I'm so proud of how many I was able to churn out and EXTREMELY happy and proud of how much you all like it. Thank you all, I appreciate all your support and feedback more than you'll ever know! 🥺

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newfallstrangeleaves · 8 months

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Yandere in the apocalypse

Strawberries

M!Yandere X GN!reader Warning: stalking, mentions of killing. Summary: Continuation of the nightly visit story. The world has ended but that doesn't stop your yandere to prove (to nobody other than himself) that he can give you anything. He goes out of his way to get you something you want but things don't go as planned. Author's note: It was really nice to see the first part (and my first post) being so well received. Really thank you!!

Never will he be far behind. Always in the shadows watching over you. He truly is your guardian angel, undefeated protector, perfect boyfriend…

Though in a perfect world he would be close to you, show you how good he is to you. But because of the friends of yours most of the time Aaron has to go unnoticed. But the times he does get close, he cherishes.

The weather is nice and Aaron has spent the last 4 hours in a tree. Your group has made the decision to leave the city and head out into the wild. A decision he doesn't exactly agree with, for many reasons. Though your group has decided upon two night watchers now he dont believe for a second they could do a better job than him.

Half of the group has split up from camp and gone out to look for food. You sit together with a girl with dark braids and a blond girl, who looks to be in need of a shower soon. The boy is there too, blissfully unaware of his surroundings and listening in on the conversation.

“I LOVED to eat Moules frits, I could eat a whole bucket of those things.” The blond girl says.

"Oh, you snob!” The braided girl exclaims. “Can you say something normal like a burger?”

“But what is so weird about Moules frits? It's just Oysters and Fries! The blond pouts.

“Wrong! It's Clams not Oysters, you idiot.”

"You seem to know an awful lot about Moles frits, huh? Y/N, who do you think the real posh one is?” The blond looks over at you who throughout this whole conversation has just been smiling at the bickering.

“Donno, seems like a tie, or what do you think Max?” You turn over to the boy who nods eagerly. You and Max exchange a look as the blond one rolls her eyes over dramatically, but the action prones a laugh out of the three of you.

“What foods do you miss, Y/N?” Max asks when the laughing has died down. You think for a moment.

“Well, not the canned potatoes that's for sure, or any other canned foods for that matter. I miss fresh ones, oh I know, I miss Strawberries!” You say. “And actually at this point I would be happy to have any shape, dried or fresh doesn't matter.”

“Me too.” A voice from the bushes makes everyone jump.

Even Aaron is about to fall out of the tree. But when the other half of the group returns he swears over himself over the lack of awareness. But the conversation had made him think. If his love wants strawberries then she shall have strawberries.

When night comes he sneaks down from his hideout. A week ago they passed a small community, odd people and overly religious. They had only really gotten a picture of them though three men who were out looking for a friend of theirs. The men had invited them back to their community but luckily your group had declined the offer. Good thing your group had caught their off vibes too and decided not to risk it. But when the both of your groups had parted ways and one of the men decided to turn back to you, Aaron felt nothing good would come with a second encounter. So the man was killed and buried before sunrise. By then the group was up and away.

But the men at the time had mentioned a garden filled with vegetables and fruits. Perhaps a tactic to lure you into their claws. But right now it's his best bet in finding Strawberries.

Traveling alone ment moving at a much quicker pace. Perhaps he will be back to you in less than a week!

When he arrives he realizes the men weren't lying. If something they were playing it down by a lot. Aaron could see “the garden” from a mile away by the size of it. The only problem he is facing now is getting in. It is surrounded by a huge fence, barbed wires, then on top of that they have built six hunting towers to guard from any intruders.

He decides to wait until night time and while doing so he can feel his eyes grow heavier.

He wakes up (all stiff from sleeping in a tree) to the luck of a lifetime. Rockets are firing from the other side of the garden, somebody else is planning to break in too. He brings his handy pocket knife and while the guard's attention is elsewhere he takes the opportunity to run straight for one of the hunting towers.

He just needs a little bit of luck to not be spotted now. Despite having two hunting towers at each side of him that could easily spot him he hopes their attention stays on the forest for intruders.

The darkness hides him long enough to cut through the fence. His pocket knife pliers are weak, it takes time to cut through the fence. But not impossible.

As he works up a hole big enough for him to fit through he can hear the guards discussing, the weak attack was quickly disarmed. But Aaron can sense them being on edge for anything else to happen.

When he is through it's in and out. Their attention is not on the plantation but he still tries to hide amongst the greenery. It doesn't take long before he finds the red little berries. There are rows upon rows of them. They won't miss a few. When he is done collecting and placing the container back in his backpack, he turns to make his way out again.

Just as he feels confident he is going to make it without getting spotted he gets just that. Spotted. He crawls through his hole as bullets start raining around him. His only option is to run and find shelter amongst the trees. He sprints as fast as he can, the trees approaching quickly. Just a few more steps.

Then he feels one of the bullets hitting its target, a sharp pain shoots through his thigh. He lets out a cry of pain but with the adrenaline pumping his veins he doesn't stop.

He pushes further and further through the forest even though he is not as fast as he would have liked, the people deciding to go after him seems to have given up the chase. Their voices grow more and more distant by the second.

The following days are hard. He has to stop multiple times to not strain his wound too much. Worry starts to grow more and more each day. As he is slowing down you are walking further and further away. The fear something would have happened to you while he was away grows stronger by the day.

When the pain in his leg is unbearable as he is fighting to keep up a good pace he wishes he never left you. What if something has happened to you while he was gone? Why didn't he consider this before he left? How stupid he feels.

He lets out a sigh of relief when he reaches a small lake and in the distance he can see your figure walking out in the water with your pants rolled up. So peaceful. Finally he can allow himself to rest and to heal.

Mission accomplished too. He feels pride grow in his chest as he watches you. He can give you something nobody else can. He can't wait for your reaction. A smile only he could give you.

The next morning you wake up and the first thing you see is a small package with a note attached to it.

“Whatcha got there?” Ginny asks as she frantically tries to brush through her blond curls with her fingers.

“I don't know. Was here when I woke up.” You turn over the note and read what it says out loud.

‘Got these for you.

Until we meet, A.’

“A? There is no one here who starts with A.” Ginny says loudly. A ruckus begins amongst the ones that are awake. Their discussion is loud enough to wake up the rest.

“What do I do with these?” You ask.

“Leave them, it's not worth the risk.” Felice says and pulls her braids out from the shirt she just put on. “Come, you go with me from now on.”

Aaron limps over to the spot you sat at as he is fighting tears. The anger and disappointment bubbling up in his chest. He wishes he could kill them, hurt them as they have hurt him.

But all he does is pick up the berries.

He knows revenge will come in due time.

#yandere male #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #tw stalking #post apocalyptic #yandere x y/n

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eddies-house · 4 months

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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12 | Ch. 13 |

Smoke Signals

Chapter Twelve - The Holiday Season Begins

W/C: 8.7K

Eddie x Fem reader - Grumpy!Bartender!Eddie x Shy!Reader

"I've got my eye on you."

Say Yes To Heaven - L.D.R

A/N: Wow I think this is the longest I've gone without posting a chapter. I really hope you guys enjoy this one. I wrote it in bits and pieces and read it over several times. I would really really really love to know what you think, this one is so special and personal to me.

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Sugary apple goo.

You think back to Thanksgiving back home, a ruckus constant in the kitchen as dinner is prepared, more than enough food to feed an entire village. Pots and pans clank together, trays create an echo as they are not-so-carefully placed atop the counter. Dinner rolls are burned but still enjoyed with warm cinnamon butter. The potatoes are a touch too lumpy but still desirable with notes of rosemary and an ungodly amount of garlic. Various smells, both sweet and savory flood the house, your poor, stressed out mother churning out dish after dish, siblings all engaged in some kind of ball game out in the street just after watching the Thanksgiving Day parade.

You tend to the green bean casserole, an easy dish that you couldn’t screw up even with your limited attention span. Cream of Mushroom soup from a can seemed so repulsive in itself although it brought the whole dish together. It didn’t matter that seconds prior it slumped against the green beans still in the shape of the can, nearly gelatinous. Once stirred in and baked with crispy onions layered over the top, it was a masterpiece. A five star dish in your book.

It would only be a matter of time before grandma showed up with her famously delicious apple pie, the crust coated in extra amounts of grainy sugar, the dish still piping hot. And the “sugary apple goo” as you used to call it at the age of three already had your mouth watering just thinking about it, crispy apples so fresh and topped with syrupy caramelized sauce topped off with cinnamon and nutmeg, all wrapped up in a flaky, buttery crust.

You sigh, piling the apple mixture on top of the homemade graham cracker crust. It wasn’t clear to you just how lonely Thanksgiving morning would be without anyone around. Sure, you had Donnie’s to look forward to this evening but until then, you were on your own, the parade quietly playing on the TV though you hadn’t been very impressed with the floats this year. Holiday depression was kicking in, a kind you hadn’t experienced yet. They were usually always a happy time, family surrounding you and distracting you from the lonesome thoughts you usually had. This year it started feeling more like a ton of bricks was sitting on your chest, no one able to aid in providing you with some kind of task such as the honor of making the green bean casserole to ease the pressure.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t just make the controversially delicious dish, you had everything stashed in the pantry. It just didn’t feel right. It went unnoticed by you that tears were slowly sliding down your cheeks until a fat one landed on your wrist as you finished spooning the apple filling.

Again?

In that moment you swear you looked the most pitiful you had ever looked in your entire life, tears trailing down your face silently, all alone, homesick. You should be in your pajamas playing some kind of a board game on the coffee table in the living room, surrounded by your siblings. Not throwing yourself a pity party while spreading apple goo. To top it off, your hands had gotten completely covered, the sauce making your fingers undesirably sticky. You hadn’t quite reached the point of sobs yet though you suppose if you let the goo linger on your hands any longer you would.

Some comforting folk music your grandpa used to play religiously rang through the house though you felt no such comfort. Not as much as you’d hoped anyway. It brought a familiar sense of his essence to you, his passing three years ago not settling right in your heart. It only made you more homesick.

But you weren’t going to let yourself soak in salty tears and sticky apples. No, you washed your hands in soothing warm water, the sludge sliding right off and into the metal of the sink, eyes puffy and red but void of tears for the time being. You’d sucked them back and changed the music to something more upbeat, some Elvis that your grandpa had also engrained deeply into your brain though you hoped the faster tempo would brighten your spirits and ignite the happy memories.

Only, it landed you on the couch in a whole new sea of sobs this time as Unchained Melody lingered in the lonely room. There was no getting a grip on the gut-wrenching, stomach-aching isolation you were feeling, sanity was long gone. You were supposed to be trimming the dough that was meant to create the criss cross pattern for the pie, you were supposed to be enjoying your glass of wine as you sang under your breath to familiar tunes, you were supposed to be okay.

It was you, after all, who had made the decision to move, right? It was you who picked up your entire life and plopped it right in the middle of some unknown mountain town in search of yourself. You feared that you were just losing yourself instead, forgetting just after a few months what it felt like to be surrounded by loved ones, forgetting how it felt to come home to a full house after a grueling shift at the local Denny’s. You smelled of burnt coffee and dry eggs, your hair greasier than the literal grease trap, but none of that mattered the second you stepped into the coziness of the living room, all family dysfunction left at the door.

The tears wouldn’t stop though you still managed to force yourself off of the couch, wiping snot away with the back of your hand as you stared at the messy kitchen in despair. Everything suddenly seemed so…impossible. How were you meant to do anything while simultaneously questioning your entire existence, your entire meaning of life?

You had been in such disarray that cleaning up as you went didn’t even seem close to an option, nearly every pot and pan either set on top of the stove or thrown in the sink, whisks and spatulas scattered among the mess, and apple skins littering the floor. Now you were taking in the aftermath, not even having the finished product to show as an excuse for the complete disaster, even the dough still rolled out on the cutting board. You had hours left to prepare though it felt like seconds ticking by to inevitable disappointment.

The end of the world felt like it weighed down on your shoulders yet you did what you did best each time. You set it aside and pressed on. It was never simple, weak hands grasping the dull knife, slicing through the dough to create uniform strips. Motivation was running dry, the desire to grace everyone with the most delicious apple pie they’d ever tasted was out the window, you could only do what your body allowed.

And like every other time you had to pull yourself out of the gutter. Life began to bleed back into your eyes as your creation came back to life. Puffiness still remained throughout your face, eyes still droopy but slowly your drive kicked back into gear. Sniffles from previous snotty tears continued but nothing felt better than laying down the last layer of dough over the apple filling, a quest conquered.

Finishing off your cheap red wine, you reward yourself by licking off the spoon you’d used for the filling. The kitchen still required a good scrub down but you could live with the mess a little while longer as you indulged in the sweetness. Something well deserved. You didn’t even want to think about the nightmare that Christmas was about to become, decorating your tree with only the company of your dreaded thoughts. That was a scenario you were not willing to wander into, at least not until it would actually happen. There was no sense in making yourself live through it twice, your brain longing to torture you with irrational possibilities.

Elvis’s voice continues to carry through the living room, a second glass of wine being poured in hopes of easing your homesickness, attempting to neglect thoughts of what you would usually be doing right now. It was barely working, only leaving you feeling slightly lazy with a good layer of sadness still looming over you like a storm cloud. There was no extinguishing the sorrows you felt for familiarity and the comfort the holidays were supposed to bring you.

Sudden knocking sends you into a brief panic, unexpected guests were not in the cards for your lonesome morning that had only served to encourage your crybaby tendencies. At the very least you got a pie out of it.

The knocking persists as you scramble up from your depressing divot on the couch, a certain urgency waving over you at the speed of the knocks. They were rapid, quick pecks at the wood, a worrisome speed that usually constituted an emergency in the end.

Why today, why now?

With a heavy sigh, you swing the door open, glass of half-finished wine in one hand while the other runs down your drained face. You expect some kind of eviction notice; god knows why since you own the place. Maybe the check hadn’t reached the mortgage company, maybe it had been intercepted in transit. The last thing you expect on your doorstep is a wide-eyed Eddie cradling a large bowl in one arm. His gray sweatpants swallow his legs and hang low on his hips, a sliver of his tummy on display in between his t-shirt and pants.

It’s conflicting. Do you act concerned and start begging the questions: Did something happen? Who’s injured? Or do you exhale in relief as a tiny smile tugs at the corners of his mouth even in his somewhat distressed state? It can’t be that bad if he still finds it in himself to smile, right?

“I, uh, I need help.” He says sheepishly.

Ever since the night of the hoedown, he’d been a new kind of shy with you. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t adore it because truth be told, big bad Eddie Munson who previously chewed you out for being so bashful was now getting a taste of his own medicine. Except you had been much kinder than he initially was, though it was fun to tease him and force his face to turn a vibrant tomato red.

“Help?” You smirk, swirling your wine as if you were some kind of connoisseur. “My, my, how the tables have turned.”

“Bambi.” He groans, still maintaining focused eye contact with the wood planks of your porch.

“Eddie.”

It’s said so softly, in a way that reduces him to a puddle, his knees could give out at any moment if you so much as looked at him a certain way which had been why he refused to catch your gaze. He internally curses himself for automatically counting under his breath, unable to stop himself: one, two, three, one, two, three.

In an instant your face falls, he only ever counted when he was stressed from what you could gather. It was a learning curve, navigating Eddie’s quirks.

“Hey.” You soothe, gingerly grabbing his wrist with your free hand. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

His curls bounce with a shake of his head, his eyes fluttering shut. The counting stops but he still comes across as fuzzy. Disoriented.

“Come inside.” You whisper, gently tugging him through the door, your wine abandoned at the entry table in the process. “It’s freezing out.”

Instinctually he hands you the bowl he’d been cradling close to his body with a wooden spoon sticking out. Upon further inspection, a mountain of mashed potatoes-or should you say lumps of potatoes are piled up within the bowl. The skins are still intact, way too many if he intended to make smooth and creamy potatoes. They’d be much less than enjoyable in the state they were currently in.

“I fucked them up.” He whispers.

The sight you’re met with is that of a small child in a grown man’s body, his large eyes pleading. You’re forced to realize that today may very well be much worse for him than it is for you. He’d warned you that he didn’t do holidays and here he was, a nervous wreck turning up on your doorstep in a panic with lumpy potatoes. And suddenly you felt so selfish.

“That’s okay.” You assure him, tracing a tender thumb over his bicep. He looked so lost. “Eddie, it’s okay.” You repeat with a nod.

“I just, I was gonna buy something from the store, and then, I just thought–I dunno maybe I’d at least try.” He tugs on his curls, a bit too harshly for your liking. “I don’t know why I even tried.” He sighs in defeat.

It’s enough to break your heart.

“Eddie.”

Turmoil flashes in his eyes, stress apparent in the way his brows furrow and his frown lines grow deeper. His lips are red, most likely bitten, and he can’t stop twisting one of his rings around his finger. He looks to be as much of a wreck as you felt although the symptoms seem to be much more apparent in his appearance than yours. Your slightly swollen eyes were nothing compared to his tousled curls, anxieties littered across his face and trembling hands unable to be subtly hidden without the crutch of sleeves.

“I, uh, I-I shouldn’t have bothered.” He mutters, reaching for the door.

You intercept him, your hand wrapping around his elbow while you attempt to meet his eyes. He freezes in his escape, your touch rendering him paralyzed, your fingers suddenly too determined in digging into the meat of his arm. Not meanly. Never meanly. More concerned. Concerned for the way he cowers away the second he’s offered any fraction of help. Perhaps it’s hypocritical of you to regard him with such worry when you yourself present the same behaviors under the same circumstances and expect no such treatment.

Your expression offers a certain softness that he’s come across one too many times since you’d barged into his life and taken his heart hostage. You’d never know you committed such a crime. And he’d never outright tell you of the ache that sat deep in his chest that he had no clue how to satiate. All he knew was that he could not jeopardize this. If he could get through the holidays, if he could get to January and you were still around, then, and only then would he be convinced that he had finally lifted whatever fucked up, out-of-this-world curse that had haunted him all his life.

“It’s okay.” Barely above a whisper, you assure him.

Eddie doesn’t remember making his way into your kitchen, he can’t recall your delicate hand pulling him along until you let go to discard his potato concoction onto the counter and he realizes he’s taken the warmth for granted in a haze of existential dread. Like a lost puppy, he stares at your fingertips as they linger on the counter while you lean over to reach for an empty casserole dish. The entirety of your kitchen cabinets had thrown up all over the counters, a reflection of the way his brain felt. Scattered.

“Potatoes are actually super complicated.”

His ears perk up, unsure of how to conjure up a response. Instead, he raises his eyebrows, fearful of how dumb he could make himself look with just a few syllables. It wasn’t like him to care so deeply what others thought of him.

“That’s why I avoid them. Instead–” You turn around only to pull out a can of green beans and a can of cream of mushroom. “-work smarter, not harder.”

Eddie knows he should be hanging onto every word you say and usually he would be, he knows. Except he can’t help but tune into the melody of Blue Christmas that had been echoing off the kitchen walls from your record player across the room.

The damn record player. And the records.

He didn’t realize how much the records still affected him. He had his own collection now, sure. But anything that resembled the essence of his Mama, lived safely and soundly on its dedicated shelf in his room, untouched. It took him years to rebuild Mama’s collection.

“Sorry can we-” He makes his way toward the record player, his face contorted nearly painfully before lifting the needle. “I just-I can’t think.”

Your motions were paused, can opener halfway through the can of beans as your eyes meet him with questions splayed across your face. You don’t ask them. An understanding smile works its way across your lips and god, he doesn’t know why you’re so patient with him after he stepped into your house and suddenly had the uncontrollable urge to shut off your music. As he strides back into the kitchen, a series of apologies haven't even left his mouth and yet-

“So…Green Bean Casserole.” You state, fingers tapping against the tin of each can. “And Sugary Apple Goo.” A vague gesture toward the uncooked pie. “Kind of a…weird duo. Or it will be if I actually get it in the oven-”

“Sorry, what?”

“Apple pie. The apple pie. At home we just call it sugary apple goo, don’t ask why it’s just–it’s just a thing we do.” You clarify, shoving the dessert into the comforting warmth of the oven, shivering at the sensation as goosebumps begin to prick your skin.

“Apple goo.” He repeats. A raised brow disappearing beyond his messy bangs.

Eddie almost forgets the reason why he’d been in such disarray, almost forgets why he even bothered knocking on your door in the first place, only remembers the fact that he was in a panicked state.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

You busy yourself with slopping the now drained green beans into a nearby glass bowl. Your blotchy skin and puffy eyes catch in the stream of sunlight, the kitchen window betraying you as it showcases your true state. Avoiding those large brown eyes is the best you can do, the theory that if you can’t see him he can’t see you dumbly being put to use no matter how aware you are that it makes no sense. Maybe if you act “okay enough”, he’ll chalk it up to the common cold, placing the responsibility for your rudolph-like nose on the yearly infection.

What you fail to realize is that by this point, he’s become too familiar with your teary eyes and sad worry lines that only seemed prominent in your times of distress. Times that he had regretfully been the cause of previously. Words can’t escape his practically sewn-shut-mouth, all sounds dying long before forming on his tongue. It’s impossible to create comfort when he himself has trouble doing so for himself. How could he possibly offer such comfort to someone who deserved kinder words from someone of a higher regard?

“Here, dump this in and mix.” You instruct, forcing a can of cream of mushroom and a wooden spoon in his hands, yanking him out of his mind.

There’s no room for protest, not that he even intended to. Not when you’re standing there with the ghost of tear tracks down your cheeks. Not when you’re this kind. Not when you’re you.

“Okay.” He mutters, a disgusting sound filling his ears from the lumpy soup falling into the bowl.

“After that, pour it in here.” You place a ceramic casserole dish to his right, the dish nearly too large to fit on the cluttered counter though you’re too occupied with tidying up other parts of the kitchen to bother.

“Got it.”

Eddie Munson absolutely hates Thanksgiving. But he doesn’t mind it so much when you’re rustling around behind him, a silent conversation hanging in the air that neither of you are alone in your holiday sorrows, whatever they may be.

You don’t ask why he continues counting under his breath behind you or why his hands are shaking.

And he doesn’t ask why tears linger in your eyes or why you pause to regain your composure after dropping a pan a bit too loudly for your liking, your lip wobbling.

Because the collective understanding is that neither of you is okay. And maybe that’s okay.

–

“Careful, the bottom is–”

“Shit!”

“-hot.”

A ringed hand waves around in an effort to rid it of the burning sensation caused by the bottom of the piping hot casserole dish. Eddie releases a series of curses, the side of the dish pushed against his chest as he balances it between his body and his single arm protected by one of your generously donated dish rags. Your wide eyes caution him in his balancing act, a perfectly crafted green bean casserole at risk due to his negligence as he had taken the liberty of knocking on the door.

“What the fuck, how can fuckin’ beans be so goddamn hot?” Brown eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, his fingertips more than likely singed an angry red.

It’s no laughing matter, not according to the scowl that makes its way across his handsome features but you can’t stop the pull of your lips from forming a large grin, giggles caught in the back of your throat. His irritation disappears just as quickly as it came, harsh edges blurring into softness at the sight of your puffed out cheeks, inflated due to the humor just dying to crawl out of your mouth.

“Oh, shut up.” A nudge of his shoulder against yours has you shaking your head, laughter finally escaping your perfectly glossed lips.

He could write paragraphs about them if it didn’t seem so creepy and stalkerish. So he allowed himself the tiniest of glances, only hoping to paint the full picture in his head ever since you’d quickly puckered your lips in front of your mirror at home to complete your finishing touches while he viewed from the porch where he waited in his black button up and nicest pair of jeans. He’d never been so jealous over a tube of lipgloss. In fact, he’d never in his life been jealous of a tube of lipgloss and he never felt like more of a loser than in that moment.

“I told you.” You mutter, an endearing side eye delivered right into his line of sight. It was something almost child-like, something innocent and not at all like what he’d ever really been on the receiving end of. Maybe because there was a certain flirtiness you were hinting at although he was no expert and had no right to assume.

“I told you.” He mumbles back with a higher pitch, mocking you.

You turn toward him, a comeback on the tip of your tongue when his own tongue interrupts with a taunt, peeking out between his lips swiftly, his nose scrunching up meanly before his full attention is back on the door as it creaks open. And then, a quick wink that only you yourself were a witness to, only creating a stir in your brain as you decipher that no one else would be able to confirm the action.

“Hey!” Donnie greets, arms flung up in excitement as she ushers you into her welcoming home, smells infiltrating your nose, sweet and savory galore.

Before either you or Eddie can even get a simple “hello” in, she’s talking your ear off, something about who all is already in the living room, how far along the turkey is, where the bathroom is, all while guiding you into the spacious dining room. She must have set out her fine china, the gorgeous dishes set all around the table lined with champagne colored silver on the edges of the plates. Two tables had been pushed together, creating enough space for the large number of guests expected. In the center sat an exquisite arrangement of various orange-hued flowers and some greenery.

The house was comforting; not too large and not too small, a two story dream that no doubt had acres of backyard. The Christmas tree had already been set up and decorated, the branches and lights hinting at you from the other room where men roared with laughter, a football game blaring from the TV that contrasted with the familiar voice of Frank Sinatra coming from the stereo. Combined turkey and Santa decorations adorned the interior everywhere you glanced, surfaces that would usually be empty year around were occupied with tacky little figurines that were more endearing than anything. Plastic garland traced the rails of the stairs, littered in fake plastic cranberries, the front room being far more grand than your entire home as you inspected it through the archway of the dining room.

Suddenly your nerves were simmering down, a familiar feeling nestling into the bottom of your chest as your shoulders fell from their tensed position, your fingers letting up on their grip on the pie tin you clutched so desperately. Women squealed from the kitchen, a series of “oh my god”s erupting into the rest of the house, some kind of juicy gossip initiating several gasps as well as some laughter. Your homesickness began to lie dormant, warmth overtaking you as Donnie went on and on about her family members, which ones to avoid sitting next to at all costs and warning you of the aunties that would corner you and beg for details on your love life.

“Just pretend I’m calling you and run as fast as you can in the other direction.” She advises. “And if that doesn’t work, tell ‘em you had too much wine and that it’s making a reappearance. They’ll scatter like flies.”

You laugh along, taking mental notes as she grabs the pie from you, complimenting the smell as she sets it among several other desserts, a whole table dedicated only to sweets. When she goes to grab the green bean casserole from Eddie, you can’t help but pause and watch as his doe eyes trace his surroundings, a clearly unfamiliar environment to him. There’s uncertainty dripping from his demeanor, his single finger tapping against the dish: One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

“Green bean casserole-Eddie, do you know how many green bean casserole we’ve got? Like you all read each other’s mind, I swear.” Donnie jokes.

“It’s-um, it’s hot.” He cautions her.

Sauntering toward the main table, Donnie proudly sets it on top of a place mat to protect the wood from the heat. Eddie doesn’t budge, seemingly glued to the carpet, his hands still lingering in the air like he had still been holding the dish.

“You okay?” You mouth to him, looking up into his worried eyes, only hoping to soothe the crease in between his eyebrows.

He nods though you suspect he’s being a bit dishonest.

“Oh, c’mon Eddie! You know I’m just pullin’ your leg.” Donnie reassures, a heavy hand falling against his shoulder. “Shoot, I have to go check on the oven. Yell for me if you need anything, both of you, okay?”

“Sure.” You mumble. “Thank you.”

“There’s a fully stocked bar right over there, help yourselves.” She calls as she backs herself up toward the kitchen. “But don’t go too crazy.” She sends a knowing glance, recalling both of your tendencies to take on more than you can handle.

“Why don’t we get some air?” You suggest, unable to comprehend exactly just what was happening in Eddie’s mind although you knew enough to understand that he was miles outside of his comfort zone.

“No, no. I’m good.” A cleared throat doesn’t reassure you enough but you let it go for the time being. Prying wasn’t going to help. “”M gonna get a beer.” He murmurs, chain jingling from his belt as he makes his way toward what you can only assume is the kitchen where Donnie had just disappeared to.

As pathetic as it seemed, you weren’t going to allow yourself to wander around alone, vulnerable to various conversations trapping you in small talk with strangers: an absolute nightmare. Timidly, you follow behind Eddie at a safe distance, holding your breath as you take in the new room full of busy women and many glasses of wine. The smell of gravy heavily lingers, a tinge of the sourly sweet alcohol peeking through as you release your breath and inhale finally.

And then-they were all over him. Sweet older women, ranging from around fifty plus years, all doting on him, cooing at him while complimenting how tall he is and his handsome features. It only forces you to lean your hip against the counter and take in the most captivating scene you’d ever witnessed. His cheeks redden, his entire face matching shortly after as he nods in response, small “thank you”s sneaking past his lips with a sheepish grin threatening to spread across his face, dimples prominent. It’s clear he doesn’t know what to do with the attention, has no recognition of the power he currently holds.

“Is this one yours?!” One woman shrieks, taking your hands in her bony ones.

“Oh-”

“You’re so lucky, he’s such a looker!” Another chimes in.

“We’re not-”

“You better hope he holds onto all that hair throughout the years.” A third nods.

Eddie’s face has never been redder, crimson painting his usually pale skin, a beer pinched in between his fingers as he avoids every single eye in the room. You can only imagine the look on your own face, maybe slightly mortified with a hint of pink pulling at your cheeks due to the unnecessary attention.

“Alright, alright.” Donnie interjects. “Enough, you’re gonna scare ‘em away before they’ve even had a bite to eat!” She waves her hands around, dramatics on full display as she shoos them away like pigeons.

“Thank you.” You whisper, eyes large and surprised.

“Run, run.” Donnie displays wide eyes, gently shoving you both out of the kitchen.

–

Throughout the evening, you kept Eddie in your peripheral. Sure, he was grown and fully capable of taking care of himself but it didn’t worry you any less when holidays weren’t necessarily his favorite thing. Anxieties lurked in the back of your mind the second he started counting earlier, never once fading away no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that he was fine, now bantering back and forth with Sam.

“That Steve kid really can’t dance.” Nathan laughs, pulling you back into the initial conversation you were having, perched on the couch with a glass of wine set in front of you on the coffee table courtesy of Donnie’s excellent hosting skills.

“Well that’s why he excused himself off the dancefloor.” You softly smile, earning another hearty laugh from the man.

“Hey, but Eddie’s no better.” He jokes, taking a swig of his beer. “Looked like a damn giraffe stumbling over his own legs.”

“I wasn’t very coordinated either!” You defend. “We were a hot mess.” You bury your face in your hands.

“Yeah, I bet Eddie thought you were hot.”

The recliner adjacent to you creaks beneath Jett as he makes himself comfortable, slouching with a beer in his hand.

“Whoa.” Nathan leans forward, ready to reprimand him. “What-”

“That’s okay.” You speak softly, your hand covering the older man’s as an act of keeping the peace, something you did best. Several seconds of contemplation and a glance across the room toward Eddie change your mind.

“Actually-it’s not.” You turn your body toward Jett, a man–child before your eyes that refused to even look at you after his comment. Your hands shake and your cheeks heat with embarrassment, chalking your sudden confidence up to the glass and a half of wine you indulged in.

“What?” Jett furrows his brows, examining his beer far too aggressively as a means to avoid you.

“It’s not okay.” You whisper, a wimpy excuse of a defense.

“What’s gotten into you, boy?” Nathan scolds through gritted teeth.

Jett’s nearly-black eyes resemble something opposite in comparison to the warmth in those across the room currently harboring a twinkle in an engaged conversation. The boy is unable to get a word in as you quietly begin to address him.

“Look, I’m sorry if I did something wrong.” You regret the tremble in your tone, confrontation was well out of your comfort zone, especially with someone who had been so hostile for no reason. It wasn’t in your DNA to be the “bad guy” even when it would benefit your wellbeing.

Something in your words softens Jett’s eyes, pulls a piece of him back into reality. You weren’t terrorizing him and he couldn’t seem to grasp that ever since that night you had argued with Eddie behind the bar. And you hadn’t spoken a word out of line but you weren’t clueless. Clearly he had an agenda against you and Eddie, it never left your mind since Eddie mentioned that Jett got all over-protective suddenly that night and took it out on him. But what could you do when all he did was puff out his chest rather than have a decent conversation? His frayed emotions were not your responsibility, you owed him nothing if he was going to insist on acting like a toddler in adult situations. You suppose some of it could be due to his lack of years behind yourself and Eddie, Jett still a teenager, almost twenty whereas you had been in your twenties for a few years now. It wasn’t an excuse, just your brain attempting to work out his logic.

“You didn’t–you didn’t do anything wrong.” He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

You don’t offer any words. Only an expectant look. Expecting of some kind of explanation as to why he’d been acting so cruel. And as if the universe decided you didn’t live in enough anguish with your homesickness that morning paired with the current unwanted confrontation, Eddie’s eyes met yours for a brief moment before darting away, a deep sigh and suddenly slouching shoulders clearly indicating some kind of defeat before he quietly stepped out of the room.

“Can we get into this another time?”

You don’t wait for a response, excusing yourself to slip out of the room and follow the trail of cold out the front door, the chill seeping into your bones as your cradle your arms close to yourself. The porch is spacious, something you hadn’t taken notice of earlier when arriving. To your left, Eddie sits on a wooden bench with the family name “Scott” carved into it. A cigarette takes its place between his fingers, his lighter flickering while he lets out a frustrated groan. He places the stick between his lips and cups the flame to hide it from the wind, finally succeeding in lighting it, puffs of smoke escaping through the corners of his mouth.

“I’m not fragile, Bambi. Stop following me around.” He mutters, pulling the cigarette from his lips. There’s no malice detected in his words, just something lacking hope as he stares straight ahead.

Carefully, you sit at the very edge of the bench, your skirt a tad too short to allow you to fully sit back due to the cold surface. You catch a wave of his warmth as he rests his arm on his thigh. It hurts, how far away he feels even being inches from you; his mind might as well be on Jupiter. A momentary glance over at you causes him to sigh deeply, his head dipping down while he shakes it in disappointment.

“And dammit!” Eddie snaps, face twitching in aggravation. “I don’t have a jacket for you this time. Learn how to dress for the cold.” He gestures to your posture, your arms wrapped around your middle in an attempt to savor any warmth, and your jaw clenched shut as a means to keep your teeth from chattering though you can’t seem to contain the shivers nearly rattling your bones.

“I don’t need one.”

He scoffs, disbelief evident in his movements, a fidgeting hand reaching up to scratch the barely-there stubble at his jaw.

“I don’t!” You lie.

You were never one to willingly be dishonest but a little white lie in this case didn’t seem like the end of the world. Not when Eddie’s fragile state of mind seemed to gnaw away at him. You wouldn’t leave him out for the wolves to feed on him; wolves being his never ending thoughts that always without fail, won him over and forced him to crawl back into his comfort zone of isolation. You suppose you weren’t so innocent either, always succumbing to the very same habits.

“Go back inside.” A flick of his cigarette ash towards the ground ignites in the thin layer of snow barely coating the porch before extinguishing.

You can’t help the furrow in your brows, staring at him as if to figure him out, attempting to glance into his large coffee colored irises, to no avail. His shiny eyes dodge your attempts, the windows of his soul closed off, even from you. Not that you were immediately entitled, though you figure with each trauma he had shared with you, he’d at least be able to look you in the eye.

“Come with me.” You chirp. “We’ll taste all the wines. C’mon, and then we’ll be nice and hungry. Drunk eating is the best.” You extend a hand out toward him, your freshly painted nails perfectly imperfect in his peripheral.

“I’m not in the mood, Bambi.”

His gravelly voice has a certain effect on you, one you find not appropriate to dissect right now. He lifts the cigarette back up to his lips, the chance to take one more drag stolen from him as you pluck it from his fingers, tossing it into the snow without regret, stomping your foot on it for good measure.

“Well, get in the mood. Let’s go.”

Boldly, you tug at his arm, unable to move him by yourself, you know. But he willingly melts into your touch, allowing you to pull him up despite his protesting frown. Though he follows you to stand, he doesn’t budge much further than that as you try to drag him back into the cozy warmth of the house. The rounded tip of his nose glows red, the threat of a cold only pushing you to tug on his sleeve with no success in ushering him inside.

“I think ‘m just gonna head home. You think someone else could give you a ride back?” The question is hesitant, no longer wanting to participate in the festivities but still concerned for your well-being, especially if you were going to continue to drink.

Your track record with alcohol wasn’t exactly great and he’d never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn’t there just because the sight of you talking to Jett had left a bad taste in his mouth. But he couldn’t stand it any longer, watching you act so graceful all the time, especially to someone you didn’t particularly like, and then having to pretend that a simple kiss on the cheek didn’t absolutely wreck him. A kiss that you hadn’t since mentioned, and he wasn’t going to humiliate himself by insinuating that you wanted him in that way. No one wanted him in that way.

“What?” You breathe, face shifting into a sadness Eddie wanted to kick himself for. “No, you can’t go–”

“I’m sure Jett is ready and willing to entertain you.”

Low blow. He could always count on himself to deliver a low blow at the worst of times.

Eddie knew now that you had a distaste for Jett, he knew that. And yet he was stupid enough to continue using Jett as ammo against you for no reason other than his own insecurity. If he continued to push you away then it wouldn’t hurt so bad when you realized he was scum of the earth. Trailer trash. A nobody. That’s what he kept telling himself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You fume, crossing your arms.

“I don’t know, Bambi. You tell me cause I can’t figure you out.”

The use of his nickname for you stitched together with words of anguish only further confused you. You couldn’t seem to win.

“Can’t–can’t figure me out?!” You widen your eyes at him, only hoping to convey how ridiculous of a statement it is. “Can’t figure me out. What about you?! You’re the one no one can figure out!”

You’re on the verge of whining, begging in a sense. Pleading with the most stubborn man in the world and god only knows what you’ll do if he doesn’t stand down.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that.” He states simply, monotone. It makes you want to yank your hair out by the roots and offer it to him, asking him if it’s enough. If it’s enough to shut up the voices in his head.

“Yeah? Because you don’t wanna let people in?!” Uncharacteristically, you jab a finger into his chest, frustration making itself known across your face and you only know because his eyes ever so slightly soften. “Eddie, all you do is give me mixed signals! How many times do I have to tell you I want nothing to do with Jett?! What do I have to do to get that through your thick fucking head?!” He tries to get a word in but you don’t give him an opportunity. “No, seriously! I need an instruction manual or something because I’m trying! I have been trying-”

“-I didn’t ask you to!” He finally interrupts, sorrow filling his eyes.

With a deep breath, you calm your heaving chest. It’s apparent you’re no longer cold, your skin hot from working yourself up. Steam may as well be coming from your ears though it wasn’t your intention to get so irritated with him.

“I wanted to. I want to.” Your voice comes out softer, a gentler approach to his sudden internal conflict.

“No.”

Turning away, he doesn’t quite move to leave but there’s no mistaking the fact that he’s trying to shut you out. He’s trying to escape like some kind of feral animal but you refuse to give in. You refuse to let him.

“Yes. Eddie–look at me!” You demand with a small pull of his arm.

“No.”

He goes to turn his body even further away from you but the firm hold you have on his bicep stops him. He keeps his gaze on the floorboards below, his nose twitching and eyes burning with the threat of tears. You only know because you’re all too familiar with the mandatory frown that comes with holding them back.

“Stop doing that. Please.” You beg.

“I can’t be here right now–”

“What makes you think I can?”

He’s silent. The world instantly feels so quiet, tiny snow flurries fluttering around you, making you feel as if you’re the only two people on Earth. Echoes of the celebrating and hollering inside are faint although they don’t do much to pop the bubble you find yourselves in. Then he breaks the silence, daring to plead with you this time.

“Bambi, please.” He croaks.

Your initial thought is, please what? You’d been pleading with him back and forth for god knows how many minutes straight and here he was doing it right back to you. And for what? It wasn’t a good enough plea, not for you. You weren’t ready to let it go, if you even knew what “it” was.

“No, you’re coming inside and you don’t have to associate with me if you don’t want to but you’re coming inside.”

Your demand only seems to irritate him, his brows knitting together while he pinches the bridge of his nose in between his fingers. If he was agitated then you were about to become enraged. And that is not something you wanted. You never wanted to display that kind of emotion toward him but he was practically pulling it out of you and you had to fight against it. No one had ever been able to pull such a reaction out of you, not ever. Even if you had gotten pretty close, you swallowed it down and hid it.

“Why?!” Eddie seethes.

His outburst takes you back, though with the aggravation boiling within you, you were able to contain any reaction he was seeking, if any. That wasn’t the case for long though as you then launch yourself into another tantrum after staring for a second too long at his snarled lip.

“Because believe it or not, I care, Eddie!” You practically wail, your voice becoming hoarse. “If you leave I’m coming with you because I’m not leaving you alone. Not on Thanksgiving.” Your head shakes in denial.

Against your own will, a single tear trails down your cheek and the moment you feel it, you’re rapidly wiping it away, hoping he never even saw it when you knew damn well his umber eyes followed it all the way down your face. He only pulls his gaze away.

“I’m leaving. You’re staying here.” He decides, regret etched into his features.

In a final attempt to escape your grasp, he succeeds, feeling your fingertips linger for one last second before drifting away as he turns and makes his way down the porch steps, wood protesting beneath him. The noise is the only proof you have that he’s actually leaving, that he actually feels he’s not worthy enough to stay.

You refuse to give up so easily.

Your feet are already on a mission, nearly sprinting down the stairs even with the threat of slipping on the minimal amount of ice beginning to freeze over. Eddie pays no mind to the fast paced footsteps crunching against the gravel behind him, making his way over to Sugar with his head hung low. Your heart is racing, not just because you suddenly decided to sprint a few yards but because a healthy dose of dopamine has started coursing throughout your body, a good amount of anxiety accompanying it but not deferring you any longer.

Eddie makes it to Sugar, his hand reaching for the door only for it to be forced shut with a self-manicured hand. If he didn’t know who the hand belonged to he’d be chewing the owner out for daring to touch his beloved truck. Instead he rolls his eyes and turns as he prepares to reprimand you in a much more gentle manner than he would anyone else.

Except he doesn’t even have the chance when your lips are suddenly pressed to the corner of his mouth, your body pushing him against Sugar. His hands freeze mid air, his eyes wide open. Your hands are resting on his chest and–he can’t breathe. You pull away, inches from him and he can’t breathe, he can’t speak, he can’t move. As far as he’s concerned he isn’t even human anymore.

“Stay.” You whisper, your breath fanning over slightly chapped lips.

His lips won’t stop tingling, he can’t grasp the concept of what just occurred. He refuses to even touch you for fear that you might disappear right before him. Hell, he’s not even sure he’s allowed to.

It’s difficult to gauge his reaction, his heavy breath lingering with the smell of his cigarette that would probably gross you out had it been anyone else but for some reason, because it’s him, you don’t mind very much. You must smell strongly of wine which isn’t always pleasant so you figure you’re even.

“Please stay.” You repeat, nudging your nose into his.

It’s like he’s in a trance, his eyelids becoming lazy and his body relaxing when you reach up to trace your thumb ever so slightly over his jaw. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes squeezing shut, and you can hear a gulp in his throat. With his eyes still shut, he nods and before you can process it, he launches himself into your arms in a tight embrace, wrapping himself around you, his face buried in your neck. A wetness catches against your skin catches your attention, Eddie’s body heaving slightly and you just know.

You know that the tear stains on your skin mean more to him than you could ever imagine.

Slowly, your fingers tangle in his hair, threading into the curls at the nape of his neck to lightly scratch his scalp soothingly. The way he grips onto you tighter, his body shaking, only confirms that physical touch and affection was not a luxury he was allowed in his lifetime. If he let you, you’d spend thousands of hours holding him, even in the cold. Whatever he needed.

But the snow flurries began to grow larger and the wind started to pick up. And you’d be damned if you allowed yourself and Eddie to catch a nasty cold when you could be doing the same thing inside next to the fire. Though, as you thought about it, Eddie would probably shy away from your touch in front of everyone. And that didn’t anger you in the way it normally would. Because you couldn’t blame him, someone so touch starved that he began to sob the second he was willingly kissed and told he was wanted, for shying away from showers of physical affection in front of peers that only know him to be big, bad, Eddie Munson. It would be too much of a change and you weren’t willing to force that upon him.

So as the cold grew more unforgiving, you continued to hold him. He would be the one to decide when he felt he wanted to part from you. And if you both got sick, so be it. A stupid cold would be worth the price if you were able to provide him the touch he went so long without and so badly craved, even if he didn’t quite know it at first.

Eddie parted from you far sooner than anticipated. His cheeks were rosy, his rounded nose matching, endearingly so. His eyelashes were dotted with a few lingering tears, his eyes rimmed with red but sadness was absent from his features. Instead there was a fondness dripping from his expression and though he parted from the embrace to gaze down at you, he still clung to you like his life depended on it.

“Can I–can I kiss you?” He whispers shakily.

You want to laugh, only because he’s acting as if you didn’t kiss him in the first place. But you bury it deep down and only let a smile blossom.

“Please.” You whisper back.

This time, you’re more than happy to beg.

Hesitantly, his shaky hand cups your jaw, the warmth from his skin more than welcome as he gently slots his lips against yours. He’s slow with it, taking his time. As you move in rhythm with him, you encourage him, moving his arms to circle your waist, pressing yourself closer and letting your hands travel up his chest to lock behind his neck.

“I can’t stop.” He laughs quietly, continuously pecking your lips like he can’t get enough.

“Don’t.” You giggle into his mouth.

Teeth clash against teeth and though he hasn’t quite graduated to using tongue yet, you have the urge to introduce him. Before you can pass your tongue along his plump bottom lip, he curses under his breath as he pulls away, only causing worry to spread across your face.

“You’re freezing.” His hands rub up and down your arms to somewhat heat you up and only then do you realize your face feels completely numb.

“No, I’m fine.” You protest against your better judgment. It wasn’t exactly fitting to be in tights while one of the first snow falls of the year ensued.

“You’ll be a popsicle in like three seconds.”

Eddie softly smiles, reaching for your hand and tugging you with him toward the house. A whine escapes you, a pathetic whimper but you manage to shuffle yourself along with him. Before entering the realm of reality beyond the front door, Eddie turns to you, stars in his eyes, something glimmering.

“How’s my nose? Snotty?” He grins, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

~end~

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tags - @gravedigginbbydoll @ohauggieo @spicysix @lunatictardis @ali-r3n @batkin028 @mrsjellymunson @witchwolflea @emma77645 @emxxblog @eddiesxangel @angietherose @lottie-90 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @pullingattheroots @avalon-wolf @vintagehellfire @cryingglightningg @foreveranexpatsposts @winchester-angel @mmunson86 @witchwolflea @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @tlclick73 @erinekc @hazydespair @whenshelanded @corrodedcoffincumslut @ms1oftheboys @lma1986 @uglypastels @aysheashea @dashingdeb16

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #smoke signals #eddie munson au #stranger things fic #stranger things au #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic

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makethatelevenrings · 2 years

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Just Friends? // J. Todd x f!reader

Requested? yes!

WARNINGS: none

Summary: Jason panicked and told Dick he was dating someone. Now he’s being forced to bring them to family dinner so he turns to his best friend, you, for help.

“You want me to…what?”

The couch dipped beside you and a heavy arm draped across the back. You nudged Jason with your elbow as he crowded up against you and he retaliated by swiping your book out of your hand. Since he didn’t particularly feel like dying again that day, he made sure to slide a bookmark between the pages before he shut it and tossed it onto his coffee table.

“I need you to be my date. To Sunday night dinner.” He said it so simply that you had half the mind to start concussion protocol in case he had landed helmet-first sometime during last night’s patrol. You raised an inquisitive eyebrow and he grinned.

“And this is in relation to…?”

“Dick was trying to set me up with this guy he met at a coffee shop and knowing Dick’s taste in people, I panicked and said I was already dating someone and he insisted that I bring them to meet the family. Because anyone who would date me, and I quote, is a godsend and/or in need of some serious help.”

You hummed and poked his cheek. “What if I’m both?”

“See? You’re perfect.”

You adjusted your seating on the couch so you could face him, one leg tucked under you and the other hanging off the edge of his worn couch. His large hand came down to rest on your thigh and he drew circles against your skin before squeezing gently. You slid one hand to the nape of his neck and played with his hair.

“How on earth are we going to convince your family, the greatest detectives in the world, that we’re a couple?”

You found yourself at Wayne Manor on Sunday with one very antsy vigilante. He kept asking if you remembered the story the two of you had generated and you were very close to throttling him. Two years of friendship and he still didn’t trust your ability to make shit up on the fly.

The heavy oak door swung open, revealing a short kid. He appraised you with a disinterested expression and then delicately sniffed.

“Todd, I see you have brought your lady friend for once.”

“Nice to see you too, Demon Spawn.” Jason ruffled his hair as he passed and the kid swatted his hand, a murderous glare flitting across his face.

“You must be Damian.” You held out your hand and he regarded it coolly before shaking it. “Jay told me you like animals. Remind me later and I’ll show you pictures of my cats.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he nodded and stepped aside. “That is agreeable. Perhaps I can introduce you to Alfred as well.”

You mouthed something akin to isn’t that the butler? to Jason and he snickered as he sidled up to you and slid his hand along your waist. “Butler AND cat. Damian was inspired when he named him.”

“Hmmm, that’s cute. So, one sibling down. How many more to go?”

“Too many.” He leaned down to brush a kiss across your brow. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, bird boy.”

Dinner went off without a hitch. Dick declared his love for you the second he met you, Tim was hesitant at first and fully assumed you were actually a mercenary hired by Jason to try and kill him again, Steph gleefully regaled you with stories of Jason slipping and falling off of roofs during patrol, and Cass had laughed when Jason had tried to steal some of Alfred’s famous mashed potatoes off of your plate and you proceeded to launch a fork at him.

Bruce, as expected, just sat quietly.

“Oh, miss, don’t worry about the plates,” Alfred exclaimed when you started stacking up Jason’s dirty dishes onto yours. “I have it handled.”

“Are you sure? It’s really no big deal.”

“Quite alright, miss. It is my job after all.”

You smiled at the kindly butler. “Jason speaks very highly of you. Thank you for always being there for him.”

“Of course, miss. Master Todd has always been a great joy in my life.” You could see the unspoken sorrow that lingered there too and you briefly thought of the jagged, y-shaped scar that spanned the length of his torso. Jason slid his hand in yours and tugged you into another room.

“Movie night,” he explained. “National Treasure, of course.”

“A classic.” He maneuvered you to fall back onto the couch, leaving a space for him between you and Dick. “Ah, shit, let me go get you a blanket.”

“So, how long have you two been dating?” Dick asked when Jason disappeared.

“I’ve known him for two years but we’ve been dating for three months.” It was the agreed upon date you two had come up with last night when you laid on the couch together, a mess of tangled limbs. “He’s my best friend.”

“He better not be trying to replace me.” Dick pouted but Damian tossed a pillow at his head and let out another scoff. The youngest Robin had Alfred the cat in his lap and stroked the cat’s fur like some kind of evil villain in his lair.

“Don’t worry, Dickiebird. No one can replace you,” Jason drawled as he returned with a blanket. He draped it over your lap and then took a seat next to you. “Good?”

“Yeah, thanks Jase.” You knew you wouldn’t last through the movie. In fact, you probably fell asleep twenty minutes in. Your head fell against Jason’s shoulder and he carefully adjusted the blanket to cover your shoulders before running a hand over your hair.

“If you haven’t already,” Bruce said from behind him. “You should tell her you love her.”

Of course, Jason groused. Nothing got past Batman.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood #dc imagine #mine

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wjhik · 9 months

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Maybe We Were a Bit Too Loud.. (Jude Bellingham) *Smut*

A/N: been a bit too many Jude stories. if yall have any trent requests pls send

Y/N's POV:

Jude and I have both been so occupied in our work, we have barely got any time to spend with our daughter, let alone ourselves. Kiera had a play at school, so I got off work early. Unfortunately, Jude couldn't make it. She was quite upset about it, but I made sure to make it up to her. We had a girls day. We went to the Salon and got our nails done. I needed a refill on my nails and she wanted to get some color for her birthday party in a few days. I also got her some ice cream and had a shopping spree.

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" Kiera yells. She really doesn't have to be so loud. I'm right next to her. It has been a long day. As fun as it was, it was fucking exhausting. I look at her and she shows me some toy that she has, explaining it as if I didn't buy it for her. "Honey, that's amazing." I play into her excitement. "Mum, I'm hungry." She tells me, abruptly dropping her toy. "Let's get you some food, my little hungry bunny." I say, scooping her up and kissing her tummy. She starts wriggling in a fit of ticklish laughter.

I finish making spaghetti Bolognese as per my hungry bunny's request. She's just like her father. I take out her Minnie Mouse plate from the kitchen cabinet and give her some pasta. I also pair it with some leftover mashed potato and some freshly steamed broccoli and carrots. "Mama! I don't like carrots!" Kiera yells, very politely. "I know, sweetheart, but if you don't want to end up with glasses like mama, you have to have them." I tell her. She's not a picky eater, unlike me, but carrots are her weakness. It's not fun waking up to see a blurry husband, and if she wants to escape my genetic curse of poor eyesight, she has to eat her carrot. "Hmph. Fine." She says, crossing her arms but still listening to me. She's such a blessing.

As I'm serving myself the spaghetti and the vegetables (purely to be a good roll model to my daughter) for myself, I hear the door lock rattling. I look up to see my husband walk through the door. "Daddy!!" Kiera yells, attempting to get off of our high counter chairs. Jude quickly walks to his carbon copy and picks her up. "Hello, my love." He says, littering her face with kisses and placing her back on her chair. She continues munching away at her veggies. "Mhh...Whatever you made smells amazing." He says, walking to the back of the counter, where I place my plate onto the table and get out his plate. "Spaghetti Bolognese." I tell him. He grabs me by the waist and places a kiss on my head. "Missed ya." He says, then placing a kiss on my lips. "Missed you too." I reply. "Ewwww." We hear a little voice say. Our little love session is interrupted by Kiera fake gagging. She learns too much from Jobe. "Alright, alright. Go sit down, love." I tell Jude. He sits down and I place his food in front of him. He quickly gobbles it up.

"Mama, can we watch bluey?" Kiera asks. "No, honey. It's mama's turn to choose." Jude says. Kiera is sat on her little pink blanket at the left in of our very large L-shaped white couch. Jude and I are sitting on the right side. "But, daddy-" She argues back. "No 'but's." Jude says sternly. "You got your turn yesterday, and I was before you. Mama's last few turns were taken by us, too. It's time we let her choose." He explains to our daughter. She lets out a huff and puff. "Jude, it's not that serious. Let her watch. I'm pretty tired anyways." I whisper to Jude a bit too loud. "Yay! Thank you, mama!" She says, taking the remote from Jude and playing her show. "Baby, you can't give in." Jude begins a lecture. "Hey, don't tell me. You're the one who spoils her." I tell him. I'm supposed to be the strict parent, not him.

Jude put's his arm over my shoulders after the 76th episode of these stupid Australian dogs. I would go to bed, but this is the only family time we've had in weeks. I reach for my phone to check when bedtime will roll around. I let out a sigh as I realize tomorrow is a weekend, therefor she can sleep in. Jude senses my frustration and pulls me in deeper. Kiera's trance is broken when she looks over to see her parents at peace. She immediately stands up on the couch makes the strut towards us. She decides to sit right in between Jude and I, of course cuddling him and giving me her back. Jude and I's cuddle session was cut way too short.

My head moves from it’s comfortable position on the back of the couch to look at where the little snores are coming from. I see our little monkey finally asleep after 3 long hours of Australian dogs. I pat Jude's arm and he, in response, picks her up and starts walking towards the stairs. I clean up some of the cups, snacks, and toys left on the coffee table and quickly follow Jude's path. I close the baby gate at the top of the stairs Jude installed when Kiera starting crawling and head towards Keira's bedroom. I creak the door open to see Jude putting her into bed. He firmly tucks her into bed and places her pink bunny next to her. On his way out, he turns on her moon-shaped nightlight, as she's afraid of the dark, and shuts the door behind him.

Jude backs out of the room, still facing his daughter. He turns around and gets slightly startled by me standing directly behind him. "Fuck, baby. You scared me. I didn't know you were there." He says putting his hand on his own chest. "I'm sorry." I tell him, nuzzling myself into his chest. I haven't been able to feel Jude without another little lady jumping on him. Jude places his hand on the back of my head and pushes me further into him. "Let's get you to bed, pretty lady." He grabs my hand and leads me to our shared bedroom.

"Where are you going? You've already done all your bathroom shit." He tells me as I throw the blanket off myself. "Mama's going to go change into some PJs. She doesn't feel like being caught in a bra and panties when Keira decides to love bomb you tomorrow morning." Did I just say that? "Mama's gonna do what?" Jude makes fun of my use of 'mom language'. "See what this damn kid is doing to me?" I tell him, walking into our walk-in closet. I walk into my side of our closet. I open the drawer of 'sexy' underwear I have. it's basically has cobwebs on it. I pick out Jude's formerly favorite white set. I look at myself in the mirror, feeling better about myself than the last time I put it on.

Jude took me to a fancy hotel a few weeks after Keira was born to give me a break. I decided to bring along this set to 'impress' him. I was freshly postpartum, and I felt very insecure. I haven't put it on since then, but I've been working hard to get my prepartum body back. Obviously, I don't look the same as young, active, 20-year-old Y/N Jude met, but I would say I look pretty darn okay. I quickly slip on a silky robe, coming right under my arse. I tie it in a way where it cinches my waist and leaving the front open enough to give Jude a peak of his former bestie.

Jude is sat up on his side of the bed, book in hand. (Jude 110% does not read before but, but dad!jude does) I walk over to my side of the bed, taking an excessive amount of time in hopes that Jude will notice me. "Hey, baby? I was wondering if- Whoa." He says, taking his eyes away from his book. "Whoa?" I say, pretending to be clueless. Jude quickly puts his book on the side table and pushes the blanket off of his lap. He gets up and walks towards me. I open my arms for him to come into. He grabs my waist and I wrap my arms around his neck. "You look amazing, love." He tells me, leaning in to kiss my neck. He starts licking and sucking on the sensitive spot behind my ear. "Jude..." I moan, throwing my head back. Jude leaves my neck and puts his hands right where my robe ends. He effortlessly lifts me up.

He goes back to kissing me as he walks us over to the bed. He places me in the middle of it. He undoes my robe and kisses me from my neck down to my stomach. He leaves a few bites and marks on my stomach. He works his way down to my panties and slowly takes them off. He starts to lick and suck on my clit. He slowly works his way up to using 3 fingers inside me. I'm moaning and whining with my hands in his hair. "Fuck, Jude. That feels so good!" I moan out, grabbing his hair even tighter. Normally, he would talk a lot during sex, but he's so focus on me and making me feel good that he can't be bothered to dirty talk.

"Fuck, baby. Just like that. Ride me like that. Taking me so well." He says, pushing my hips back and forth. He has my robe open up top, but tied up. I ended up getting too cold, but we were too eager to stop to change the temperature, so I put on the robe again. I have my hands on his chest, using him as leverage to keep me moving. I feel my legs give out, and Jude senses it. He grabs me and flips me onto the bed. He quickly gives me a passionate kiss and pulls out of me. "Turn over, baby. On your belly." He tells me. I quickly obey, too horny to resist. I get on my hands and knees. Jude pushes his dick back in and thrusts into me at an ungodly pace. The headboard is slamming against our wall, and I'm making some very loud and lewd noises. Jude reaches up to my head and grabs a handful of my long hair. He wraps it around his hand and uses it to pull my head back. He uses this to kiss my neck, leaving even more marks than before. He pulls me off my hands and makes me grab the headboard. He wraps his unused hand around my throat and squeezes lightly. "You like that, baby? Like the way I'm fucking you?" Jude grunts into my ear. "Yes, baby. Fuck, you fuck me so good!" I moan out. I can feel a knot start to go undone in my stomach. "Baby, I'm gonna-" I tell him, reaching back to put my hands in his hair. "I know, sweetie. Cum for me. Cum around me, my love." As I hear that, I quickly let my orgasm wash over me, Jude following close behind me, filling me up with his warm cum.

"That was amazing." He tells me, kissing my sweaty forehead. Jude had cleaned me and himself up and gotten us some very fancy champagne from our wine cellar. "I know. I'm glad we got some time alone, finally." I tell him, looking up to kiss his lips. It's been way too long since Jude and I got freaky. It's hard to find the time when you're raising the clingiest child of all time. Jude takes a sip of his sparkly drink and turns on the electronic fireplace. It's mainly ambience, but it's nice to have. He turns off the two nightlights and gets comfy. Him and I drink and talk the night away, until we both cave to our parental positions and fall asleep with a show in the background.

(Time skip)

I open my eyes to see a blurry world. I reach over to the side table where I fumble until I find my glasses. I put them on and turn to face my husband. Somewhere along the night, he turned off the T.V. and tucked us into bed, taking off my glasses and placing them on my side table. On the rare occasion where I get to see him, he looks so beautiful in the mornings. I snuggle into him and kiss his forehead. I nuzzle into him and close my eyes once again, enjoying the quite morning. No rush. No Keira. This is nice. I feel Jude stirring slightly. He knows I'm awake as I have my glasses on. He places a kiss on my lips as I kiss him back. "Good morning." I tell him, giddy as ever. It's like it's our first night together at his mum's place again. "Good morning, love." He says in his raspy morning voice. Him and I chat a little before hearing a door creak open. I look over Jude's shoulder to see Kiera standing there with her bunny in her hands, her hair wild as ever.

"Can I come in?" She asks, rubbing her eyes. I quickly but discreetly slip on my panties that were discarded the night before. "Of course, love." Jude says, opening his arms to his baby girl. He places her in the middle of us, and for once she chooses to cuddle me and not Jude. I accept her cuddles with open arms and pull her in closer. "I like this. It's soft." She tells me, rubbing over my robe. Jude lets out a laugh and kisses the back of her head. He slings his arm over the two of us and pulls us into him.

"Daddy? I have a question." She asks her father who has his head on the pillow and his eyes closed. He lets out a 'hmm?' while keeping his eyes closed. "Are you nice to mama?" Jude and and I are both shocked by the question. "Of course he is, baby. Why are you asking?" I ask her. "I heard some banging on the wall yesterday and you yelling." She tells us, now sitting up. Jude and I both mentally face palm. I look at him, expecting an answer just to see him looking at me the same way. "Sweety, mama and I were just playing. She's fine." Jude explains to her. "But you said that you shouldn't play in a way where people get hurt." She says crossing her arms, visibly upset with her daddy. "Baby, I wasn't hurt." I tell her, rubbing her arm. "Then, why were you yelling?" She asks. "Umm..." I look over to Jude for an answer once again, but he is looking around the room, playing dumb. Amazing. "You know how you start yelling when your daddy tickles you? Like that." I come up with an excuse. "Oh. Daddy tickled you for a long time then." Jude starts snickering and I simply nod. Keira nods, satisfied with the answer. Jude tells her to go use the toilet and brush her teeth. She gets up and marches out of the room.

"So, can I tickle you again?"

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toxophilitis · 8 months

Text

A Flash of Mom's Flesh cont

CHAPTER FOUR

Sarah felt the urge to expose herself again. She was in the supermarket with Jimmy pushing the basket behind her. They were in the produce section, but Sarah wasn't looking at the fruits and vegetables. She touched an apple here, an orange there, but her mind wasn't on shopping. She wanted to lift her dress to her waist, show her shapely legs and ass. She began to blush softly, feeling her cunt respond to her wicked thoughts.

She glanced shyly over her shoulder at her son. Jimmy was about five feet from her, and obviously gazing at her ass. She had on a tight skirt, one that framed and held her compact ass nicely. She glanced down to see if he had a hard-on, but the basket concealed his lower body.

She looked around the produce department, and saw only an employee spraying some leafy vegetables at the far end, his back to them. Her eyes began to gleam, and a shy smile spread over her face.

She faced a potato bin, leaning over so the bottom of her dress lifted a few inches above her knees. She glanced at her son, who was watching her. With a quick movement, she jerked her dress to her waist, her tight panties exposed. She heard Jimmy gasp softly, and quickly pulled her panties into the split of her rounded ass, showing the creamy swells. She held her body over the potato bin for a long, breathless moment, her ass revealed, then stood up, smoothing her dress down, but leaving her panties tucked into the crack of her ass. Just as she got her dress down, a woman pushed her cart around the shelf and started toward the potatoes.

Jimmy laughed softly. "You almost got caught, Mom."

Giving the woman a quick look, her face flushed with shyness, Sarah quickly stuffed a few potatoes into a plastic bag, and moved out of the produce department and to the canned goods. She wanted to lift her dress again before they started for the check-out counters, but her nerve failed her. As she watched the items going through the computerized stand, she felt her son brush past her back, pause to push the cart to their car.

"Does that turn you on, Mom?" he asked as he placed the purchases into the trunk of the car.

"I think so," she said softly. "I get the urge to do that sometimes, and I have to do it. Yes, I guess I get turned on by it."

"Do it again," he suggested.

"Here? But, Jimmy... look at all the people."

"Aw, come on, Mom," he said, grinning, "Just raise your dress when you get in the car, all the way up."

Sarah gave her son a close look. "Would that excite you Jimmy?"

He nodded. "It would make my cock hard, Mom."

"It really would?" she asked. "You wouldn't be ashamed of me?"

"I'd be hot, not ashamed, Mom."

Sarah looked around, seeing men and women a few feet away teenagers getting in or out of cars, going to the supermarket, to the bank where she had first given in to the impulse to expose herself. Her son, she saw, had an expectant look on his face. A shiver of delight flowed through her, and although she began to blush, she opened the car door wide, and just before climbing in, yanked her skirt to her waist, then sat in the car and slammed the door fast. Jimmy, laughing in pleasure, moved around and climbed into the passenger side. Sarah sat behind the wheel, gripping it tightly, her skirt bunched about her waist, blushing furiously, but her eyes glittered with exhibitionistic pleasure, too.

"My mom, the flasher," Jimmy giggled, scooting close to her and running his hand up and down her smooth thigh.

"Well, did you like it?" she asked.

He nodded, taking her hand off the wheel and placing it on his lap, where she felt his cock swelling into hardness.

"I hope you were the only one looking," she said, squeezing his cock then starting the car.

"Liar," he giggled, sliding his palm between her legs and feeling her pantied cunt. "You wanted everyone to see you, Mom."

"Well... maybe," she laughed with him.

After unloading the car and putting the groceries in the kitchen Sarah was trembling, her panties drenched with juices. She watched her son, her eyes burning on the bulge of his cock inside his pants, and stripped her dress off swiftly. Jimmy stepped from his own clothing.

"You can't tell me that didn't make your cunt hot, Mom!" He laughed as she peeled her bikini panties off. "You're ready for my cock kinda fast."

Although she blushed, Sarah agreed with her son. "It made me very hot, baby. See..."

She spread her legs and peeled her pussy open.

"Pretty," Jimmy murmured, dropping to his knees and burying his face into his mother's cunt, kissing and licking.

"Ohhhh, baby!" she moaned, grinding at his face. "Let me, too. I want your cock in my mouth while you suck my cunt, Jimmy."

Pulling her pussy out of his face, she dropped to her knees, grabbing his throbbing hard-on and pumping it a few times, kissing at his mouth with hungry passion. Pulling him, she went to her back in the kitchen floor, moving around so he faced her feet.

Jimmy found himself on top of his naked mother, his face above her cunt, her legs flung wide. She ran her hands up her son's thighs to his naked ass, the cheeks, the head of dripping cock rubbing over her face. She gazed up with glazed eyes, seeing his balls, his cock, the crinkle of his young asshole. Her finger slipped into the crack of his ass, her mouth opening as his cock searched for it.

She gasped as his cock pushed down into her mouth, and she lifted her cunt to his face. She felt her son's hand holding her ass, his lips sucking as his tongue, plunged deeply into her pussy. She lifted her head, sucking up and down his cock, his balls brushing her nose and eyes.

Jimmy began to push and pull his cock, sliding it in and out of his mother's tight, wet mouth. Sarah whipped her crotch into his face, drawing her long legs up and back, arching high. His cock burned her lips, making them tingle, her tongue sliding along the shaft. She fingered the pucker of his asshole. She moaned about his hard prick, her eyes glassy, yet able to watch his asshole clench, crinkle, pucker. The feel of his hot balls bouncing up and down on her nose added to her excitement. She hunched her ass up and down, too, fucking at her son's sucking mouth and licking tongue. She squealed in muffled ecstasy when he squeezed the cheeks of her ass, pulling her cunt very tight into his mouth. His clasping lips sent tremors of rapture from her head to her toe.

Jimmy's cock felt harder, longer than before, filling her mouth almost to capacity. Jimmy was breathing hotly as he sucked and licked at his mother's juicy cunt, his breath fanning the tight crinkle of her asshole. Sarah whimpered softly and twisted her ass until she felt one of his fingers touch the tight pucker of her hole. With a throaty gasp, she began to rub at his asshole, and Jimmy responded by fucking into her mouth with more vigor, panting into her cunt as he licked and sucked with hunger. When and how it happened, Sarah could not say. She felt her son's finger moving into her asshole, and her clit seemed to blow apart as his lips sucked.

The orgasm surprised her with its swiftness. His finger was halfway inside her asshole, but she felt no pain. What she felt was a delicious sensation of fullness, of stretching. No one, not even herself, had pushed anything into her asshole until now. As she came against Jimmy's mouth, she pressed up as hard as she could into his face, and his finger slipped completely into her asshole. She felt it moving in and out, finger-fucking as if it was her cunt. She couldn't believe how good his finger felt inside her asshole. Her orgasm was more intense than ever, almost so hard and exquisite, it was unbearable.

Feverish and coming so beautifully, Sarah didn't think, but thrust one of her fingers into her son's asshole quickly. Jimmy gasped into her convulsing cunt, and rammed his cock down deeply into her mouth. Sarah almost choked as the swollen head of her son's cock slipped past her throat, his balls smashed on her nose. She began to slide her finger in and out of his asshole. Jimmy's cock jerked about inside her mouth, and then she felt him stabbing his finger in and out of her asshole, fucking it the way she was his. She sucked very hard on his cock, her son's tongue ramming in and out of her spasming cunt as he finger-fucked her asshole.

When Jimmy came, it was a wild, hot flood of come-juice. Spurt after hot, thick spurt ran into her throat. She gobbled with mindless greed, swallowing wetly, straining her cunt into his face, the friction of his plunging finger on the ring of her asshole making her come and come in a series of orgasms she didn't know she was capable of. Her mouth filled with her son's scalding juices, but now she could swallow it all, never, losing a precious drop.

As his cock softened in her mouth, she relaxed, letting her legs down but flung wide apart. She slowly pulled her finger out of his asshole, her arms spreading outward from her trembling body.

Although saying nothing, but giggling in a naughty, little-girl way, Sarah suddenly swung her legs over her son's face, turned toward his feet. She sat down, her son's face between the spreading cheeks of her ass.

"Kiss me right there, Jimmy," she breathed in wanton passion.

Jimmy couldn't answer her. His mouth was smashed against her asshole.

He caught her thighs with his hand, and began to kiss about her asshole, making Sarah squirm and twist, squealing in pleasure. Her cunt pushed at his chin, and when she felt his lips part, and his tongue probe her asshole, she gasped loudly. Her right hand shot down to his cock, pulling and stretching it. She bounced her ass into his face, his tongue lapping at the crinkle.

"Ahhh, Jimmy, baby!" she cried out, feeling his cock harden in her fist. "Ooooh, kiss my ass, Jimmy! Kiss my hot ass! Touch my asshole with your tongue... oh, yes, Jimmy! Lick my asshole!"

Jimmy's tongue lapped feverishly at his mother's asshole, his cock turning hard in her fist. He shoved the tip of his tongue against the crinkle, and Sarah pressed hard into his face. His tongue slipped up her asshole, making her cry out. She tried to hold her ass up so he could breathe, but her excitement made her sit down hard and tight.

"Ahhhhh, your tongue is up my asshole, Jimmy!" she whispered. "I can feel your tongue in my hot asshole!"

Jimmy clung to her thighs, working his tongue in and out of his mother's clasping asshole furiously, his cock straining in her jacking fist. Sarah leaned over and lapped the smooth head of his cock, taking it into her face.

With a cry, Sarah jerked her mouth off his cock, then her ass out of his face.

"In the ass!" she moaned, sliding down his body, the heat of her cunt and ass on his flesh. "I want to feel your cock up my ass, fucking my asshole!"

Jimmy lifted his head and watched his mother squatting over his cock, her back to him. Sarah held his cock at the base, rubbing the smooth head about her crinkled asshole, holding her breath. The touch of her son's cock there sent exquisite shivers through her. She placed the swollen head of his cock against the tight ring of her asshole, and slowly pushed down. She gritted her teeth as she felt the pressure against the tightness of her asshole, and increased her downward pushing. She closed her eyes and sat down, the head of her son's cock sliding up her asshole. She gasped at how her asshole stretched, feeling his cock pulsate so hard halfway inside her.

"Ohhh, Jimmy!"

She lunged down.

A scream ripped from her as his cock filled her ass completely, her cunt smashing onto his balls. She froze as she sat on his cock, almost afraid to move. She felt no pain, but a delicious feeling. The ring of her asshole flexed and squeezed the base of his cock, making Jimmy moan in delight. He placed his hands on her spreading hips.

"Fuck me, Mom!"

"Ahhhh, baby!"

Sarah lifted her ass, and Jimmy watched his cock pull outward, seeing the ring of her asshole closed tightly about it. She lifted until the smooth head almost came out, and then rammed down onto his cock quickly. Squeals of surprised ecstasy boiled from her tight throat, and she began to bounce frantically at his cock, fucking him with her asshole. Her cunt dripped hot juices until his balls were smeared, drenched by them. Her asshole burned and spread and his cock filled her so good Sarah couldn't believe the sensations it gave her.

"Oh my God! I'm getting fucked up the ass," she whimpered. "I don't believe I'm doing this!"

"You're doing it Mom!" Jimmy groaned. "I can see my cock go right up your asshole! You're getting fucked in the ass, all right!"

Swinging her ass about, Sarah kept up a relentless up-and-down motion on his cock, fucking him in a sluttish way she didn't know was in her. The depths of his cock made her mind spin with erotic ecstasy.

"I'm getting ready to come!" she screamed out. "I can't believe this! Cock in my hot asshole... and it's going to make me come! Ohhhhhhh, Jimmy, this is wonderful, so wonderful!"

Leaning forward, Sarah braced herself with her hands near Jimmy's knees, and humped up and down, fucking on his cock in a frenzy. Jimmy stared at the way his mother's asshole flew up and down his cock. The hot tightness, the squeezing her asshole was making, caused him to grit his teeth and arch his hips upward.

Sarah cried out, the ecstasy of her son's cock inside her asshole making her shake, her ass gyrating lewdly. Her tight tits were bobbing, her nipples straining. She looked between her knees, but only saw the silky hairs of her cunt smashing at his balls. Her pussy was vibrating as if it had a cock inside it, too, and her asshole was burning with such sweet fire, her cunt felt as if it was going to burst.

"Jimmy, I'm about to come!"

"Me, too, Mom!" he groaned.

Sarah's ass seemed to move with a blur up and down, smacking in a fleshy sound each time she lunged onto his cock.

She lifted her head, a scream coming from her as her cunt exploded, making her asshole grip and squeeze Jimmy's cock.

"Mom, take it!" he yelled, spurting hot juices into her asshole.

Sarah screamed again, the spurts of her son's come-juice searing the sensitive, delicate walls of her asshole.

"Hey, anybody home!"

With a yelp, Sarah yanked her asshole off her son's still-gushing cock. Without saying anything, leaving her dress and panties on the floor near her naked son, she ran for the only place she could hide... out the back door.

"Hey, Jimmy..."

Keith stopped short.

Jimmy rolled onto his stomach quickly, sending a final gush of come-juice onto the kitchen floor, looking up at his cousin.

"Shit!" he said. "Don't you know how to knock, Keith?"

Keith grinned. "Hey, guy, what are you doing naked on the kitchen floor, jacking off?" Then he saw Sarah's discarded dress and panties.

"Oh, I get it," he pinned. "Getting some more of your mother's pussy, huh? Where did she go?"

"Get the fuck out of here!" Jimmy said.

"Hey, that's no way to talk." Keith grinned, sitting in a chair at the table. "Where did Aunt Sarah go?"

"Fuck you," Jimmy said.

Crouching naked outside the back door, Sarah heard them.

At first she was angry at her son for telling her nephew they were fucking, which was obvious from the way Keith was talking. She looked around the back yard, hoping no one could see her naked body, crouched with embarrassment near the door. There was no place she could hide, either, except go back into the house, and her nephew seemed to be making himself at home in the kitchen. She wished her son would at least get off the floor and take Keith into the living room so she could sneak back into the house and someway get to her bedroom, or her dress on, or something.

She had a hand cupped between her thighs and the other arm over her tits.

Her asshole still tingled as if Jimmy's cock was still inside it, and her inner ass cheeks were slippery with come-juice. It was fun to expose herself at the bank, then the supermarket, but something else entirely to be in her backyard naked, with the sun still shining brightly.

She could hear her nephew talking.

"I sure would like some of Aunt Sarah's pretty ass too, Jimmy," she heard her nephew say. "I've been seeing her cute ass for a long time, and other than my mother's ass it's the best one around. Tell me, Jimmy, is your mother a good piece of ass?"

"Keith," Jimmy said, "fuck you."

"Aw, come on Jimmy," Keith said. "We're buddies I don't blame you for getting some pussy, even if it is your mother's. But I want some of the action. What do you think people would say if they knew you were feeding your mom some hard cock, huh?"

"If you say anything Keith," Jimmy threatened. "I'll kick your ass."

Keith laughed. "You might just do that in a few more years. But I don't think you can do it right now."

"I can try," Jimmy answered.

"Hey, remember when Aunt Sarah pulled her dress up at the bank? Did she know we saw it, her cunt?"

"You know she did," Jimmy answered.

"Didn't she say anything about giving me some pussy, too?"

"No, she didn't."

Sarah began to shake. She didn't want to feel what was in her body, but she was getting excited again as she crouched and listened to her son and nephew. She tried to imagine what it would be like to fuck her nephew, with her son. She blushed. For a woman that didn't have much use for fucking a few weeks earlier, she was becoming very wanton, she thought. She peeked into the kitchen, out of sight. Her son was sitting on the floor, her dress pulled into his lap, and Keith was in a chair at the table. She glanced at her nephew's pants, but didn't see what she expected to see -- a hard-on.

She heard a door slam.

Frantically she looked over her shoulder across the low fence that separated her backyard from the other house. The woman that lived there was a gossip, and with a yelp, and not thinking about anything but getting out of the woman's view, Sarah jerked the kitchen door open and jumped into the room.

"Ah, there you are Aunt Sarah!" Keith grinned.

Sarah crouched shyly, trying to conceal her body with her hands and arms, doing a miserable job of it. She looked at her nephew with bright, embarrassed eyes.

Keith looked over Sarah's naked body, eyes bold and hot. No matter how she tried to cover herself, one tit was exposed and the soft hair of her cunt spread out around her cupping hand. Jimmy wasn't saying anything, but looking from his mother, to his cousin. He wasn't making any attempt to hide his body. Looking about frantically, Sarah saw her dress in her son's lap, and made a scramble for it. But Keith jerked it away from Jimmy before she could get her hands on it. For a moment, her tits were fully revealed, stiff and upright.

"Nice tits, Aunt Sarah," Keith observed a wide grin on his face.

Sarah covered them with her arm, knowing she should say something, even if in protest, but nothing would come from her throat. Her cunt was on fire, dripping juicily, and she felt as if she was about to come. Her body fully exhibited to her nephew, while her son looked on, was more exciting than lifting her dress at the bank or in the supermarket. Sarah felt as if she would come if she stood there much longer.

Fighting off her bashfulness, Sarah stood up, letting her arms hang at her sides. She tried, but failed, to look her nephew in the face, and turned her head away. She was so embarrassed, she could die, but her cunt was vibrating as if she was about to have a fantastic orgasm. She began to tremble, causing her tits to shiver in tightness. From the corner of her eye, she noticed her son's cock standing up in hardness from his lap, and then saw the bulge of her nephew's cock in his pants.

"All right," she whispered.

"All right?" Keith asked. "What does that mean, Aunt Sarah?"

"It means..." She couldn't tell him.

Jimmy had been watching her, and understood. He climbed to his feet, his cock pushing out with jerking hardness. Moving to his mother as his cousin watched, he stood at her side, taking her hand and placing it around his cock, then wrapped his arm about her waist, his hand moving up to cup one firm tit. "I think she means you can fuck her, Keith."

"Is that what you mean, Aunt Sarah?" Keith asked.

Sarah jerked her head up and down, still not looking at him, her face burning with shyness. She felt her son's cock throb in her fist, and she squeezed it, then began to pump.

"Ahhhh, that's nice," her nephew whispered, then she heard the sound of his zipper. She wanted to look but felt too embarrassed. "Play with this one, too, Aunt Sarah."

She had not heard him move, but she felt her wrist in Keith's hand, then her fingers touched his cock. Without hesitation now, she gripped her nephew's cock and her son's cock, standing between them. A soft whimper came from her, and she began to jack them both, her cunt oozing sweet juices down the insides of her thighs.

"Pretty ass," her nephew said as his hand stroked the checks of her naked ass, squeezing them gently. "I was just telling Jimmy what a pretty ass you have, Aunt Sarah."

Jimmy placed his hand around his mother's on his cock to stop her pumping. He looked at her other hand still moving back and forth on his cousin's cock. Sarah gripped Jimmy's cock, wanting to pump it, but he refused to let her. She looked at him, her eyes pleading. Her other hand moved faster on Keith's prick, pushing her ass back at her nephew's squeezing hand.

"Jimmy... please!" she whimpered, flexing her fingers about her son's cock, making the head bulge.

"I just wanted to make sure, Mom," he said. "I wanted to make sure you wanted Keith here."

"I do," she said, her voice so low the words were hardly audible.

Keith was now fondling her tits with his other hand, lifting one to stuff her nipple into his mouth, sucking it hard. Sarah gasped with pleasure as he pulled her nipple deep, his hand sliding down her shaking stomach to the hair of her cunt. Now he was fondling her ass and sucking her tit, and his fingers moved through the silky hair of her pussy and between her thighs, pressing at the swollen lips and tight cunt. She spread her feet on the floor, her knees bending slightly as she began to sob with desire. She was once more jacking on her son's cock, and the feel of two very thick hard cocks in her hands was doing things to her emotions she would never have suspected in years. She wanted them both, plunging into her body, anywhere her son and nephew wanted to fuck her.

"I've got to have some," her nephew groaned. "Aunt Sarah, my cock is really hard for your ass."

Sarah wanted to cry with anticipation. Without giving it a thought, she moved forward pulling them along by the hard grip she had on each cock. She brought them to the kitchen table and only then did she turn them loose. She leaned over the kitchen table, smashing her tits against the top, her hands gripping the edge.

"Fuck me," she moaned in a soft but urgent voice. "Please, fuck me!"

"Who, Mom?"

"One of you... both of you!" she whimpered, her ass twisting wantonly.

The very thought of her son and nephew fucking her, taking turns ramming their cocks up her boiling cunt, sent a small, but exquisite orgasm rippling through her pussy. She mewled softly as the hairy lips of her cunt twitched in spasms, her clit pulsating. Neither one had touched her as she lay across the table, and she was coming, anticipating those two cocks taking turns with her cunt.

"I will, Aunt Sarah," she heard her nephew's husky voice.

Jimmy stepped to one side, watching as his cousin pushed his swollen cock to his mother's pooching cunt. His own prick was jerking up and down, dripping wetness.

Sarah held her breath when she felt her nephew rubbing the head of his cock up and down the slit of her cunt. She spread her feet on the floor, resisting the urge to shove her hands to her ass and open her cunt lewdly for him. She gripped the edge of the table when she felt the smooth head of Keith's cock pushing into her pussy. She held her breath, and when the swollen head penetrated her cunt, she let it out in a soft, low whooshing sound.

"Oh, my God!" she cried out as Keith's cock rammed all the way into her cunt. "Ahhh, God, Keith!"

Gripping Sarah's rounded hips, Keith lunged back and forth, making fleshy slaps against her naked ass. Sarah gasped loudly, gripping the edge of the table as her body jiggled on top of it from the pounding of her nephew's cock. The firm flesh of her pretty ass rippled from the rapid smacks of his cock darting up her cunt, and the lips of her pussy clung to the shaft of throbbing hardness tightly.

"Do you like it, Mom?" her son asked.

"God, yes!" she cried out, arching her ass to take her nephew's cock deeper. "Ohhh, yes, yes! I love it!"

With her passion taking control, Sarah shook her ass in a wanton manner, urging her nephew to thrust harder. "Faster, Keith! Ohhh, God, ram it in harder!"

Clinging to the edge of the table, Sarah lifted her head, her face showing the exquisite rapture she felt. Her tits rubbed against the top of the table, her nipples stiff but crushed inward, burning, feeling so good. Her clit ached with hardness, but the sensation was beautiful. She had the feeling she was about to come, yet it was taking its time. It was a fantastic feeling, but tormentingly so. She wanted to come, but she wanted that amazing feeling to linger as long as possible. She strained her ass back, crying out in ecstasy when her nephew rammed his cock very hard and deep into her cunt, his balls smacking at the bulge of her clit.

Jimmy, his eyes watching as his mother's asscheeks rippled from the pounding of his cousin's cock, moved around the table to his mother's head. Seeing her son's cock, Sarah let out a delighted squeal and released one hand from the table edge, and grasped her son's cock with it, jacking him in a furious manner.

"Ohhhh, Jimmy, you're so hard!" she sobbed. "So very hard! Nice cock, baby! Ahhhh, Keith, fuck me harder! Ram that cock in my cunt as hard as you can! Fuck me, damn you, fuck me!"

Keith was grunting with his efforts, clutching Sarah's ass at her hips, jerking her back as he plunged up her tightly gripping pussy. He stared at the way her naked ass rippled, then her fist pounding on Jimmy's cock swiftly, back and forth, as if not sure what excited him the most.

"Give it to me, Jimmy?" Sarah hissed, pulling at her son's cock, her glazed eyes watching his juices drip from his piss-hole. "I want your cock, too, Jimmy! I want both of them in me. I want two hard cocks in me at the, same time! I want to suck your cock, Jimmy!"

Jimmy stepped before his mother's face.

"Mmmmm, fucking and sucking," Sarah sobbed in a passion-thick voice. "Fuck my cunt, Keith, because I'm going to suck Jimmy's cock off? Fuck my pussy while Jimmy fucks my mouth!"

Jimmy cupped his mother's face, sliding his cock past her wet, hot lips and across her tongue.

Sarah whimpered as his cock burned her lips, the hot taste once more on her tongue. She turned loose of the table and wrapped her arms about her son's body, clutching the cheeks of his ass. His cock had just been up her asshole, but she didn't care. She wanted to suck it and swallow his sweet, thick come-juice as her nephew spurted his juices up her fiery and intensely hungry cunt. The sliding of her nephew's cock up her cunt and her son's into her mouth sent her into a trembling rapture that was even better than ever. Two cocks, two hard, very hot, delicious cocks fucking her mouth and cunt at the same time caused Sarah to believe she was experiencing the ultimate sexual thrill.

It delighted her the way her son ran his cock back and forth, deeply into her throat, his hot balls swinging against her chin. She clutched the cheeks of his ass tightly, as if afraid he would yank his cock from her mouth. The stabbing at each end of her body created the most fantastic, most beautiful, sensations ever.

Tears of rapture streamed from her eyes, her ass jerking about in a lewd motion to urge her nephew to greater efforts. Her lips clung to her son's hard cock as he fucked into her face. A muffled wail came out of her throat around her son's cock when her cunt exploded with rippling heat. The orgasm sent a sucking tightness about her cunt and around her nephew's cock. She strained her ass back at him as she came, and at the same time sucked as hard as she could on her son's thrusting prick, her fingers digging hard at the crack of Jimmy's jerking ass.

Her whole body was a mass of trembling ecstasy, as if she was coming hard from every pore of her flesh. Juices ran wetly down her inside thighs, all the way to her knees. The squishy sounds of Keith's cock still banging up her cunt mingled with the wet sucking sounds of her mouth on Jimmy's cock.

"Your pussy, Aunt Sarah!" Keith yelped. "Your fucking cunt is going oh... oh, shit, Aunt Sarah!"

Keith plunged his cock deep and hard, his balls smashed into her puffy cunt, throbbing and jerking powerfully. Sarah strained her cunt as hard and tight as she could against the base of her nephew's cock, still coming hotly and wetly. She heard him groan then felt the rapid squirts of his boiling juices spurting into her pussy. The sensation of her nephew coming in her cunt sent her orgasm into stronger, muscle straining contractions, and she sucked mindlessly on her son's stabbing cock.

"Mom, here it comes!" Jimmy yelped.

Sarah squeezed her son's naked ass hard in her hands, her tongue pushing the head of his cock to the roof of her mouth. The eruption of his bubbling, sweet come-juice sprayed the back of her throat, and she began to gulp it down as fast as she could.

With the taste of her son's come-juices spattering into her mouth, her nephew spewing hotly up her cunt, Sarah went through mind-boggling orgasms, one after the other, every muscle in her naked body taut and ready to snap. As her cunt filled, so did her mouth. She became weak, very weak, and her hands slipped off her son's ass, hanging loosely over the edge of the table, her body slumping and trembling.

When her son pulled his cock out other mouth, come-juice dripped from it. Keith was pulling his cock from her cunt, and she felt his juices dripping out of it, down her creamy smooth inner thighs to her feet on the floor.

She was aware the two boys were standing back and looking at her, but she was so weak from ecstasy, she didn't care now. She didn't blush with embarrassment, either. What she was feeling left no room for her to be embarrassed.

"I want more," she moaned.

"Are you sure, Mom?" Jimmy asked.

"Please, give me more!" Sarah cried softly, her ass writhing invitingly. "I want more and more cock! Please, both of you, fuck me again!"

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eyeofnewtblog · 7 months

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Things that happen at work:

Got hired by a trucking company doing admin to safety stuff.

My new boss, in the interview: I’d love to have you start on *specific date* so that we can do the on boarding stuff, but we’re going to have the Driver Appreciation BBQ literally the day after and I want everyone to meet you.

Me: That’s honestly a good plan. I’m completely available for whatever happens, what time do I need to be there?

My actual second day of being hired and going through the whole set up of Driver Appreciation BBQ Day:

*chopped four onions for burgers and sobbed in the break room*

My boss: *lightly supervises but is honestly a Party Queen because she’s a Hispanic mom and is used to throwing parties for 100 plus people in her own backyard let alone a work bbq, you don’t even understand she literally looked at the corporate list of supplies and was like “nah, too much. Mmm. Maybe. Hm. Not enough.” AND WAS EXACTLY RIGHT she owns her own bouncy house, she’s got this shit on lockdown, ok?

So like two hours into this polite bullshit introductory hell scape (I am fine with meeting new people in large groups but I hate meeting people in “sterile corporate” settings, like, if I’m going to remember you, it’s because you did something actually meaningful or interesting, NOT because you shook my hand for five seconds and said you go by Steve or Becky…)

Me, to EVERYONE because my job is to Hand Out Shirts and Lunchboxes: Hi! I’m the new girl from Safety! Who are you exactly? Please don’t expect me to remember you, I’m terrible at putting names and faces together, but I’m sure we’ll talk again soon! What size T-shirt do you want? Here’s your lunch box!

Me: *finally gets a break and sits down to eat some honestly decent brauts and potato salad, deliberately choosing to sit next to one of the drivers that’s been at the company for a while* Hi, how’s it going? I’m the new safety girl!

Older driver whose name I don’t know YET: I’m doin’ pretty good with all this free food. So, you gonna stick around after the little one comes along, or are you gonna leave us high and dry like the last one?

Me, honestly pretty angry but trying to be cool: Not pregnant, just fat.

*very very very awkward silence, like this dude knew that he fucked up, but also the way my body is shaped I really don’t blame him for thinking what he did*

He did actually apologize right then and there, and honestly the entire way he went about everything was from a genuinely good place, and I personally thought it was funny after it was all said and done. Verbal on the spot forgiveness type stuff.

Guess who fucks up the very next day by UNINTENTIONALLY losing a very important document of the exact driver who “insulted” me?

Yeah. So. I spent my entire first week on a brand new job searching through three giant filing cabinets and 20 years worth of documents for ONE fucking medical card. I didn’t find it. Believe me, I looked at every single piece of paper in those cabinets, I have no fucking clue where I put it.

The driver was really nice about it and we had a good laugh about him putting his foot in his mouth and me swearing up and down I didn’t do it for revenge.

Honestly I have no idea how any of this will turn out, but every one seems nice so far so I’m really hopeful.

#things that happened today #things that happen at work #humans are space orcs #truckers #truckers are a breed unto their own #just have fun with it

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sara-scribbles · 1 year

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Jealous?

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Leona Kingscholar/GN!Reader Word Count: 283 Notes: Just something short. The tsum event is so adorable! I would love a life-size Leonatsum to hug <3 Warnings: None

Leona is not the jealous type. He is not jealous that you’ve been cuddling the tsum version of him a lot. He is not upset that you enjoy hugging the tsum more than your own boyfriend. He’s not the jealous type. Definitely.

“Aww you’re so cute, little tsum!” you gush as the Leonatsum jumps into your arms. Holding the tsum tight, you nuzzle its soft face.

“Tch…” Leona rolls over on the bed to get a better look at you and the tsum.

You're too busy with the tsum to notice him as you sit on the floor. Despite coming over to his room to nap, you quickly got distracted by the tsum. The tsum immediately left Leona’s side the moment you stepped in.

Your cooing continues as you cradle the now sleeping tsum in your arms. “You're shaped like a potato. A very adorable potato, hehe.”

Leona huffs, “He’s an ugly plushie.”

Leaning your head back, you observe Leona from his perch on the bed. “I think he’s cute! He’s a small, plush version of you.” Grinning, you finally get off the floor and join him on the bed. You gently set the tsum on one of his pillows.

“Is someone jealous?” you ask, a teasing smile on your lips.

“As if,” he scoffs, looking away.

Chuckling, you wrap your arms around his waist. “Don’t worry, Leona, you’re still my number one~! No need to get jealous ‘cause no one can take your place.”

You can feel his body relax as his arms snake around your form. Legs tangling together, he presses his face into the crook of your shoulder. “I’m not jealous,” he grumbles, though he squeezes you a bit tighter.

#twst imagines #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #leona kingscholar #twst leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #reader insert #scenario

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kitthepurplepotato · 4 months

Text

Chapter 8 - Fooling Around with Pro Hero Deku?!

(18+ but half of it can be read by everyone!)

Summary: Sharing a hot tub with the person you love the most can go two ways; it can get really emotional or really hot. This one was both.

Important note: This chapter has 18+ parts but there is a note written in red when the cheekyness starts and then there is a green note where it ends. The chapter has some important information and plot so please read the “safe” bits even if you skip the “action”. Thank you!

Warnings: Sexual content, swear words

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Are you ready to have a splash with me?” Izuku mutters cheekily as he leads you towards his car. Your whole face becomes a big flashing red sign.

“Your mom is still watching.” You giggle to yourself, as you wave to Izuku’s family for the last time before you sit into Izuku’s badass sports car to be taken home.

“Mom would be thrilled about my evening plans, she’s been bugging me to do something fun for ages.” Deku answers like he’s talking about the weather and not about you two getting naked in a hot tub like two random characters in a bad Hollywood movie.

“You are surprisingly chill about this.” You mumble with your face still red. Izuku only giggles at that.

“Well, we have a common changing room in the agency and it was the same in UA, so I’m not… well, a lot of people had seen me naked. I’m also in a lot of underwear ads. I have no reason to be ashamed of my body as you’ve seen the most of it already. I’m just excited to share this intimate moment with you, get to know you a bit more… yeah. I’m just happy to spend some time with you. I know I’m not the most perfect person body-wise, I have a lot of scars and a lot of freckles and most of them were photoshopped out of the pictures, but I know you won’t judge me. I trust you.” Izuku smiles as he turns right with perfect precision. “Okay, that’s a lie, I am a little bit ashamed and a tiny bit worried, I mean, I have a lot of freckles on my bum and…”

“Oh my god, Izu! Shut the fuck up!” You yell, mortified, but also, somehow amused. Honestly, Izuku having a freckled bum was one of your head canons so you are more than happy to hear it’s actually true; back when you accidentally took a peak at him from your window you didn’t have time to actually access his bits and bobs properly, plus it would’ve been inappropriate to do so back then so you missed this tiny detail.

“Your freckled bum sounds adorable.” You mutter under your nose with a mischievous smile.

“Yeah?” He mutters back, face red as a lobster. “Okay, now I’m a little bit nervous.”

You can’t help but giggle at that.

“You are so cute.”

~•🥦•~

“So how do you want to do this?” You mumble under your nose with a tiny blush on your face. Izuku’s smile is so full of fondness it makes your heart flutter in your chest; he looks so fucking innocent right now, wrapped in a massive All Might towel like a big burrito while you are still in your clothes, way too ashamed to take them off yet.

“Well… maybe you should get in first. I won’t peek!” He sits up straight, like a good schoolboy. “Then you close your eyes and I come in too. Then we can decide on the rest later. The hot tub makes a lot of bubbles so we won’t see anything unless we want to. Which is fine by me by the way. If you… want to look.” You are not the only one shying away from this now but Izuku tries his best to keep himself determined. You both want to get closer to each other, that’s true, but even as an adult, getting naked in front of someone for the first time is always a bit… well… awkward.

And okay, fuck’s sake, Midoriya Izuku looks like a fucking Greek god, while you are literally a nicely shaped potato. It’s not just about being awkward, it’s about the massive difference between you two. You don’t have a six pack. You don’t have nicely sculpted body, you are just… normal. Not bad, not ugly, but nothing compared to Izuku’s perfect body.

Fuck, you are stressing over nothing. He doesn’t care about that. He never did. You are being stupid…

“Sweets, we don’t need to do this if you are not ready.” Izuku grabs your hand, his finger drawing circles on your skin, his eyes full of worry.

“It’s not that, Izu. I just want… I want you to like me. But you work with all those heroes and they all look so…”

“Stop that. Right now.” Izuku reprimands, his eyes dark and protective. “You don’t know how much I…” He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and the darkness from his eyes. “I thought about you… so much. Every time I touch you, I try to imagine how you look like under all the layers and I think I have a slight idea already… this sounds so creepy but isn’t it normal? Thinking about this stuff when you love someone? Wanting to see them without all the covers, see them raw so you can love every single flaw, every single detail just as much as you love their soul?” Izuku’s hand makes it’s way to your waist, then under your shirt, caressing your side, moving his thumb over your soft skin, mapping out the area with nothing but wonder in his sparkly eyes. “I’m obsessed with you, Sweet Pea. I’ve always been. From the first time I saw you. I’m even obsessed with the way you sleep, with the way you draw, I love your shapes I love your colors… I love you.”

“Izu…” Your whole face is red. His words, his touches… they are scorching hot, they make you burn with desire, the flames licking at your skin as his fingers wander around your sides. You put your hand on his under your shirt and his movement stutters; he looks at you with nothing but worry, like he did something wrong but it’s actually quite the opposite; you move his hand to the middle of your chest to make him feel your heart thudding like a maniac, just after those few words. “This is what you do to me. Can you feel it?”

Izuku only nods, his fingers splayed out completely, assessing, studying the undiscovered area. His touch feels amazing, like tiny sparks of lighting going through your veins with every minuscule motion. The tips of his fingers aren’t soft, they are full of callouses, rough and broken, but they are Izuku’s so it still feels pleasant.

“Can I… ask you for a favor, Sweet Pea?” Izuku mutters, eyes full with want.

“Anything, love.” You whisper, completely entranced.

“Today… I only want to see you. And touch you. Get to know you. Nothing else.” He admits. “If I go too far, can you stop me? Even if… even if it’s good, even if it’s okay with you… I always wanted to do this. To just… be vulnerable with someone, be naked and enjoy each others company without uhm… ending up in the bed. I know it sounds weird, but…”

“No, I understand. I will stop you. But only because you asked me to.” You admit, not able to keep eye contact with him. Damn, it’s not going to be easy to say no when he looks at you with eyes this hungry but if this is what he wants…

“Can you start now? Because I’m really struggling.” Izuku giggles while he nuzzles your tummy. You both start laughing like two idiots while your hand finds its way into Izuku’s curls to play around. It’s not that his words doesn’t uhm… make you feel things but he said that with such an adorable tone you just can’t stop smiling.

“You close your eyes, calm down, then see you in the hot tub, yeah?”

“How am I supposed to calm down when I know what you’re about to do?!” Izuku legitimately whines into your face, his voice needy and so so honest it makes your heart hurt. He’s finally himself right now, just him being a silly and a uhm… horny nerd, not the hero, not the famous guy from the headboards, just Izuku, the young geek from the neighborhood. You absolutely love when Izuku goes all unhinged because it’s so fucking rare to see him like that.

Maybe, after this, he will be able to be like this more and more until all his insecurities fade away completely - That’s what you think about as you shed your clothes right by the hot tub, leaving the clothing nicely folded on the bench next to it.

Okay. You can do this. You have your towel in an arms length, in case you feel like it’s too much. By the look of it, Izuku won’t be able to see too much while the hot tub is on, the bubbles are way too frequent for him to take a good look.

You just need to sit in and wait for your godly boyfriend to join you and make sure he doesn’t… uhm… do anything he doesn’t really want to as per his instructions. Easy.

“I’m coming in!” Izuku announces himself, still in his All Might towel. He makes his way over with big, confident steps but stutters as he takes in the sight in front of him; your naked body hidden by nothing but the bubbles, your arms around your naked chest for extra safety, cheeks ruddy from embarrassment. Izuku swallows hard, his whole face red as he comes closer and sits down on the side of the hot tub, still in his towel. “Hi, Sweets.” Izuku drops his eyes to the floor with a shy smile on his face. He pops his legs into the water, splashing around like a child.

“Hi.” You mutter with a tiny smile. “Want to join me?” You reach out for him, but Izuku starts muttering random, incoherent stuff, clearly about to combust and you can’t help but laugh at that, all your embarrassment gone just from the sight of him.

“Uhm, yeah, I will, I swear I will it’s just uhm… you are… naked… and pretty and uhm… I don’t think I thought this through, oh my god…”

“Izu, just come in. It’s too late to run away now.” You giggle, forcing him to take your hand.

“Stop pulling me!” Izuku yells, his eyes terrified. Did you just attempt to pull the guy into the water? Yes, you just did. “Let me put my towel down, oh my god, Y/N!” Izuku stumbles and falls into the tub, water splashing all over, the sound of it louder than the happy giggles coming from you. “How will I get out now?! I have no towel, Sweets!!!” Izuku yelps, his voice high pitched, his face facing the other way out of embarrassment.

“We can share mine…” You purr into his ear while you snake your arms around his waist to pull him closer. Your breasts bounce back a bit as you push yourself into his back and you swear you can see smoke coming out of Izuku’s ears.

“Sweets, your… your bosom… is touching my back.” Izuku mutters as the blood explodes out of his nose, like in those stupid animes.

“I thought you want to get to know me better…” you mutter back, a little bit embarrassed now that the adrenaline is wearing off. “Sorry, I’ll stop bullying you.” You finally give the poor guy some peace. Izuku takes a deep breath and before you have time to get a good look at his beautiful back muscles, this absolute maniac tears the towel off himself under the water, and throws it to the other side of the garden, almost down into the street.

“Well, I wanted to show you my tattoo properly without flashing anything you don’t want to see yet, but now you missed your chance to see it.” Izuku grumbles with a red face, fake-offended.

“I don’t mind seeing your peachy ass, Izu.” You tease him but apparently, it doesn’t work anymore; Izuku only rolls his eyes with a fond smile on his face.

“Are you sure you can handle the sight? Even Kacchan admitted that my ass is juicy. I’m quite sure Calvin Klein likes my ass more than they like my personality.” The green head sighs. He’s in a sassy mood. You absolutely adore Izuku in a sassy mood. “They have all those fancy suits and shirts and cool trousers yet all I get is underwear. I’m offended.”

“Are you trying to show off, love?” You snicker, slowly sneaking closer your boyfriend, hoping for a cheeky cuddle. He doesn’t lean towards you yet, probably still a bit shy, but that’s fine.

“Maybe? I mean my butt is probably the only part of me that’s not full of scars…” Izuku looks away with eyes full of sadness. You hate when he does that, but you’ll make sure to change his way of seeing himself as soon as you can.

“I love your scars though.” You caress the massive scar around Izuku’s elbow; it’s the biggest one of them all, sprawled through half of his arm. It’s the one he got when he was only 14 years old. “One day, I want you to tell me the story behind all of them while I kiss them all. That’s one of my dreams, really. To do that. I want to kiss your insecurities away because you are the most beautiful human being in the whole wide word, Midoriya Izuku.” You stretch yourself to give your favorite person a kiss, absolutely unaware that your boobs are out of the water now.

(Warning: mention of nipples, boob touching)

Izuku yelps into your kiss and covers them with his hand right away; again, silly mistake, because just as his rough palm touches your sensitive nipple you can’t help but make a surprised noise, something between a moan and a yelp. Izuku moves his hand away with a high pitched “sorry” but you are not having any of that; you take his hand into yours and put them back where they were. “You can touch. If you want. You wanted to get to know my body, so… just… do it.” You stutter, half terrified and half… well… excited.

I mean, fucking Midoriya Izuku, your favorite hero is fondling your fucking boobies in a hot tub, of course you are excited, who wouldn’t be?

“Oh…Kay… thank you, Sweet Pea. I’ll be careful.” The tension in the air is… well… there is uhm… tension. Okay, where did your brain go?! Hello?! Words?! What’s going on?! Who is this?! Where are you?! Why is it so hot in here?!

(You okay to read along for a bit.)

“You okay, love?” Suddenly, Izuku’s hand leaves your chest and caresses your cheek; he pushes some stray hairs out of your face with a gentle smile on his face.

“I think I got overexcited and left this universe for a second, sorry.” You admit sheepishly. “You know, I’m kinda sharing a hot tub with pro hero Deku and we are both naked… my fangirl self is yelling in my head.”

Izuku next laugh is so free and careless it makes your heart melt completely.

“What does your fangirl-self want to do about it?” Izuku teases you back. You can’t help but yelp at how stupid your last sentence was.

“Nothing! Really! Nothing! I’m okay like this! Chilling in the hot tub!” You whine, red faced.

“You want to touch me? Want to feel me up, Baby?” Izuku’s face is right by your ears, his voice deep and husky, his shenanigans followed by a cheeky, innocent giggle.

“Stop teasing me, Mr. Perfect Muscles!” You full on yell into Izuku’s face now, absolutely mortified. He can’t just grumble into your ears like that, even as a joke! Oh my god, that went straight to places where nothing was supposed to go today. That’s just not fair.

“Sorry, I’ll stop. I swear.” Izuku giggles. “Except if you don’t want me too, my favorite little fangirl.” He grumbles again, making a flirty face which looks absolutely like Hawks’s.

“That’s how you wanna play this game, hot stuff? Take this, you flirty little chicken.” Your arms reach towards Izuku’s armpits. He doesn’t have time to defend himself before you start to tickle him menacingly, right where it tickles the most.

“Chicken?! Sweets, stop… haha… oh my god, stop… haha… please I beg you I’m sorry!” Izuku laughs, his eyes pleading but you are on a mission here; you need to show Izuku who wears the pants here! “Okay, if… haha… you don’t stop, I’ll stop… haha… you myself.” Izuku grabs your waist and sends you flying in the air; now needless to say the nerd didn’t think this action through at all because first of all, THIS IS TOO FUCKING HIGH, and second of all… well. You are still naked.

It takes Izuku a few seconds to realize his mistake and he catches you as quickly as he can, even with his eyes closed out of respect; he puts you in his lap, and mumbles sorry then takes a deep breath to calm himself down.

“Stupid nerd…” you grumble, your red face hidden in the crook of his neck. You try to make yourself comfortable, but Izuku puts his hands on your shoulders, his face just as red as yours.

“Sweets, don’t move… I made a mistake.” He mutters; he makes such a constipated face you can barely stop yourself from laughing.

“What…” Something twitches right under your… uhm… well… that. “Oh.”

Warning: 18+ for a bit, scroll down to the green writing to continue, there are important bits there!

“Sorry…”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll…” You try to carefully move away but the friction is just enough for the both of you to feel the pleasure of it. You’ll never forget Izuku’s face when your folds touched his half-hard member; his eyes are dark and clouded, almost watery and he’s biting his lips to not make a sound, to not show how much he liked it, but it’s all in vein; his face says it all as he can’t stop looking into your eyes, he can’t stop drinking the sight in front of him, he grabs your waist to stop you from moving away too far, desperate to feel you, desperate to be touched… “Izu…” You whisper as your body slowly goes back to its original place, right on top of Izuku’s laying member. “You don’t want this, remember?” You mutter into his mouth as you leave open mouthed kisses on his lips. His grips gets stronger, his restraint so close to snapping, but Izuku fights against the urges, even as another wave of pleasure goes through his spine when you straddle the hero’s hips and sit back down.

“I love you. I respect you. You are my everything, Sweet Pea. I would die for you.” You are not sure if Izuku is even conscious by the way he mutters nonsense into your ear; his hips snap forward, the length of his member shimming between your folds without any kind of penetration but the feelings of something so soft yet hard rubbing against your core makes you moan out loud; you look up at your boyfriend, into his eyes full of tears and terror and you stop your movements completely; something is wrong, something is not right, something is…

“Izuku, it’s fine. We don’t need to do anything. But we can also just… uhm… do this? It feels nice, isn’t it? It’s okay to want to feel nice, Izuku. It’s not a sin to have desires. I love you. And I want to see your face all scrunched up from how good it feels. I want to make you happy.” You try to smile at him, your hand caressing his cheeks to soothe him.

“This is so dirty, Sweets. You deserve better than this. I want to cherish you. I want to earn this. I want…” You can’t help but sigh at that. It’s a sweet thought but it’s also so silly; you don’t feel like you are being used for pleasure right now, it’s actually quite the opposite; this position is so intimate, so special, it’s just you and him surrounded by nothing but warmth, holding into each other, loving each other, helping each other to wind down after a stressful week…

“Izuku, what part of this is dirty to you? We love each other, don’t we? Is it a sin to feel each other? To enjoy this closeness? Do I look offended? Look into my eyes and tell me what you see.” You try your best to ignore his twitching member laying under you for a second to prove your point.

“Well, your pupils are really wide. Your eyes shine really beautifully. Your cheeks are flushed. Your lips look really tasty… I mean healthy. You look really beautiful. I love you.” He stares into your eyes like you are the one who hung the starts in the sky. You absolutely love the way he looks at you right now, it actually makes you believe this is real, not just a fleeting dream you are having every night to get away from the reality. You might be a creative person but you would never be able to come up with such a beautiful piece of art as Izuku’s face is right now.

“That’s… not what I asked.” You giggle into his neck shyly. “Can you tell me why you think this is wrong? I want to understand you.” You stop your shenanigans, trying your best to not touch in those places, but even without realizing it, Izuku pushes you right back. You decide not to comment on it and to school your face when the pleasure hits you.

“It’s… it’s dirty. You are so pure, so perfect, I… I don’t want to ruin this with my filthy desires. You are so much more than that to me. I don’t want to use you…” Izuku mutters while his hands caress your sides soothingly, the touch full of love and care.

Green zone, also, this bit is important.

“Izu, do you want to tell me what happened to you… before me?” You move your hand to the man’s cheeks, slowly caressing his ruddy cheek to calm him down a bit. Izuku visibly tenses at the mention, but sighs into the space between you, his muscles relaxing once more. Izuku has a lot of freckles on his shoulders, probably from the sunny weather and it makes his bulky figure loose it’s menacing edge; he’s just a boy, a young guy, lost in his own head, lost in his memories, a young guy full of insecurities etched into his heart by someone in the past who certainly does not matter anymore.

“There was one person. A person I thought I loved but… I don’t think I did. She certainly didn’t love me but it took me months to realize that. Everyone knew, everyone tried to tell me but I didn’t listen. I was too happy to feel needed, to not be a “Deku” for once.” Izuku tenses again so you decide to hug him tight, or as tight as you can hug a person sitting in a hot tub. You touch in a lot of places, but it doesn’t make you feel desire anymore; Izuku’s mental health is so much more important than a few minutes of pleasure. “I’ve always been a bit behind when it came to anything sexual, I was too focused on my hero work, on my notes, on my research to even think about uhm… trying stuff, even alone. This person… didn’t care about me feeling this way and I was too scared to say no but even though it felt nice I felt… dirty. I felt used. I felt like that but I still did it, every time she asked me to but with every single time I hated myself more and more for being so weird about this and she started to make me feel small and useless after a while and it wasn’t just about sex, it was about everything; my clothes, my scars, my body; my legs being too muscly, my freckles, my hair, I was too soft, too boyish…” Needless to say you are halfway between yelling and crying your heart out as you listen to his story. “It took me several months and Katsuki’s constant begging for me to finally realize she doesn’t love me, she just loves the money and my name. I was nothing but a stepping stone for her. We had an ugly break up. She said a lot of things I will never forget. It took me a long time to even be able to look into the mirror without frowning. I thought I’ll die alone. Then you came into my life.” Izuku pushes you a bit further so he can look into your teary eyes with nothing but love. “You turned my life upside down in the best way possible. I still have insecurities, clearly but… they are fading away. You are healing me. Thank you.” Izuku leaves a tiny kiss on your lips and pulls you closer once again, his body flush against yours.

“So what we just… did… well, almost… reminded you of this? I’m sorry for being so pushy… I didn’t mean any harm, Izu…” You finally let go of your tears, let yourself be the vulnerable one.

“No… I mean yes but it’s not your fault. I thought I am being the one using you this time, not the other way around. I see how stupid I was now that my head is clear. I’m sorry for ruining our hot tub date.” Izuku mutters into your hair while his arms tighten around your middle.

“You didn’t ruin anything, love.” You smile. “We got to know each other, didn’t we? We even played around a little bit and it was really nice. You told me something important. I learnt something new. It was a good date, Izu.”

“I don’t deserve you.” Izuku plays with your hair with a lovesick gaze in his eyes, his hips moving just a tiny bit under you.

“Oh, you do. You are perfect. Just what I always wanted.” You mumble into his hair, enjoying the way his curls tickle your cheek.

“I mean, I am the hero you are obsessed with…” Izuku teases, finally back to his old self.

“Hey! That’s not what I meant at all and you know that!” You giggle into his hair then move to his ear to give it a little, reprimanding bite.

“Sweets, uhm…” Izu pushes you away again to look at you. “How… much did I ruin the mood? Would you be uhm… interested in continuing?”

The look Izuku gives you while he says that goes right to your… well.

“Are you sure? We don’t need to. I can wait.” You try to reassure him but Izuku only shakes his head at that.

“Haha, I think… I think I want to fool around with the person I love the most. It’s my off-day. I can do whatever I want.” He says giddily, moving you down again. This time, you don’t try to fake nonchalance.

Warning: 18+ until the end, sexual content, (NO penetration), I don’t know how to tag this?!

“Uhm.” Izuku swallows around nothing, his face scrunched from pleasure already. You move your hips tentatively, shimmy yourself to the side of his length and for the first time since you two have been together, Izuku makes the sweetest voice, high pitched and so-so hot it makes you feel things down there, way past the pleasure of the friction. You try it again, and again, the movement more and more deliberate; your folds hug the length of him as you move from the tip to the end, without penetration, just you massaging his member by moving back and forth on the skin, giving yourself pleasure just as much as you give pleasure to him. “Sweets… that feels really good…” Izuku moves his hips up to help with the friction and you can’t help but choke on your next words, not even sure what they were supposed to be in the first place. “Is it nice for you too, love?

Ahh, Izuku is a guy who needs reassurance and talks a lot. You are not surprised by this revelation.

“Really nice, I love how close I am to you. Can we sleep naked tonight?”

Izuku only giggles at that which becomes a moan as he snaps his hips up again.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea but I can sleep in my underwear again?” You make another move, and another and another, getting closer and closer to your climax with every slide. “Can you sleep without a shirt? I loved the feeling of your… uhm… bouncy bits.” Izuku gets redder and redder as the time goes by, his movements under you careful, soft and so-so loving it hurts your heart. Your hands are in Izuku’s hair now, the curls bouncy under your palm. It might be only your imagination but you swear there are tiny, green sparkles around Midoriya, they look like the sparks of One For All acting out from all the pleasure Izuku’s getting from your shenanigans. You decide to move a bit quicker, with less hesitance, chasing your own sparks that erupt inside you with every move and every touch.

“You can touch them if you want.” You mumble, absolutely out of it and Izuku indeed goes for it; he moves his head towards your chest, leaves tiny kisses around your breast, then pops your bud into his mouth, only for a second and you see stars right away; your grip on his hair tightens and Izuku moans into your breast, needy and impatient as he snaps himself up again, chasing his climax while his mouth wanders from your chest to your neck then up to your lips. The kiss you get next is nothing like the ones you’ve got before; this one is scorching hot, dripping from desire, needy but somehow so full of emotions and unsaid words - Izuku talks to you even when he’s not, every movement full of words he’s too shy to say.

“We should stop, I’m gonna…” Izuku pants into your ear and licks into it, the smallest of moans coming out of his mouth as his movements become more sporadic. It’s absolutely ridiculous how you didn’t even really do anything yet it feels like the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

“Too late.” You whine, your words followed by a deep kiss and that’s when it hits you; something snaps inside you, makes you feel cold and hot at the same time, your moan muffled by Izuku’s mouth; it takes Izuku a few seconds to understand what just happened and it doesn’t take him long to follow; one look at your blissed out face was all he needed to come, his grip tight on your sides as he comes down from his high together with you.

“This is the cheekiest thing I’ve ever done, Sweets.” Izuku pants with a massive, shit-eating grin on his face. You’ll never forget his blissed out face. Never. Fucking hell, you would absolutely be thrilled to have a second round like… right now. The pink cheeks, the half-lidded eyes, the sparks dancing around his whole body, even under water…

“Do you want to hear something even cheekier?” You whisper into his ear, barely able to conceal your giggles.

“Tell me.”

“We need to clean the whole hot tub. Today.” You finally let your laugh out and Izuku snorts.

“Worth it.”

“Absolutely.”

Spoiler: Both of you almost change your mind about that after cleaning the fucking hot tub for two whole hours.

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Potato ramble:

- Honestly? I have no idea how this happened but it felt so right for these two that I decided to keep it even if it feels a bit cringe. Izuku definitely have some issues to sort out, but we love him.

- Also, I didn’t forget about the secret room! I have it planned in already but the reveal is going to happen in the last plot!

- I hope you enjoyed this part, please send me your thoughts! 🥦

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @thekookiecorner @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #Deku x reader #pro hero Deku x reader #mha fanfic #midoriya x y/n #midoriya x you #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x you #midoriya izuku x y/n #midoriya izuku x reader

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milflewis · 5 months

Note

22 + chalex for the prompt thing! 🫶🏻

22. hug

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 1: So. I am fucked. Surprise though! So you can stop all the tears — talking about you, Commander, the softy that you are - I am alive.]

—

Two weeks after NASA has declared Alex Albon dead and left on Mars, Charles writes to George. He sends it to Sebastian and makes him swear to get it to Lewis in the crew’s next info dump, who will give it to George.

He tells him about how Alex’s plants are doing, and about his shifts at the hospital, how he’s on night work now, with the shifts rotating over. He tells him about going to the beach and just standing there for hours, staring out at the water, until he could no longer feel his face from the cold. He tells that he’s more or less sleeping, that he’s going to work, that he’s eating. He tells him that he hopes they’re keeping safe and that he loves him.

He doesn’t talk about Alex. He doesn’t tell George he doesn’t blame him. He knows he’ll know. That he won’t need Charles to write the words.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 2: I think I've got this actually. Ignore yesterday. Getting stranded on Mars kinda messes with your head. I've got a plan and I'm feeling good about it! ]

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 2: Update. I do not got this. If I die, Charles, I demand a mourning period of at least eighty-three years. Please bury me under some nice flowers. Blue if you can.]

—

“Come back to me,” Charles says, arms tight around Alex’s neck, mouth pressed under his ear. He smells of shampoo and asphalt. His bony elbows are digging into Charles’s back.

“I’m going to make Mars my bitch,” Alex says, grinning, and Charles shoves him away with a laugh.

Alex catches his wrist with a warm hand. His palm is dry and calloused. “Charlie,” he starts, low and careful. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.” Charles’s voice cracks. He tries again. “Yes, I know, of course, of course. Me too.”

Alex smiles, and it’s wonderful. Charles memorises the shape of it.

Down the line, with his back to the hoard of cameras, Commander Lewis Hamilton is pressing his mouth against his husband’s knuckles. Both of their eyes are closed.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 54]: Did you know that if you grow something somewhere that you've then colonised it? So, like, now that I've got my potatoes going does that mean I now own Mars? A win for the gays and the losers, motherfuckers!]

—

Toto swivels in his chair and looks out of the window to the sky beyond. Night is slipping in.

"What is it like?" he wonders. “Stuck up there. Alone. He does not know we know. What does that do?"

He looks at Niki. "I wonder what he is thinking right now."

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 61: How come Aquaman can control whales. They're mammals! Makes no sense.]

—

Some days, when he hasn’t had much sleep and the air warps and curls over on itself with heat, he sees Charles.

He’ll only ever be far off in the distance — too far for Alex to even see the details of his face, let alone touch him. He’d know the shape of those shoulders anywhere.

Alex waves to him sometimes. This dark blur on the horizon that just stands there and watches. He never waves back. The sun on Mars is unforgiving.

Alex wonders if he’s moisturising his hands. The latex exam gloves he has to wear for work always dry out his skin.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 76: I'm going to have to science the shit out of this. George, please don't use this as porn. I know how hot and bothered you get about me being all smart and sexy.]

—

George has, like, every sitcom ever downloaded in his personal storage. Alex works his way through them all. If he never hears another laugh track in his life he’d die happy.

Lewis’s music list is jam packed full of different genres. There is a surprising amount of The Beatles in there. Alex wouldn’t have guessed he was a fan of them.

Alex decides the music Lewis had made himself, all chords and notes and little words, is some of his favourites. It can be hard hearing other people speak at you and not being able to talk back.

Every book Valtteri had downloaded is in Finnish. Alex thinks he probably should’ve guessed that would be the case.

It turns out Finnish is very hard to learn, especially when the only words you’ve picked up are swears that you’ve heard Valtteri muttering under his breath before media duties.

—

[LOG ENTRY: SOL 206: Finally got into contact with NASA because I am that bitch and I will be damned if I die here, and that is a promise. They won’t stop telling me what to do now though, so, like, it’s a give and take, I guess.]

—

The first thing Charles notices about Alex is that he has freckles all over his face but especially across his nose and cheeks. This feels very important.

The second thing he notices is that he is tall and his wrists are bony. Charles eyes the strip of skin where his MATHS IS SEXY top rides up. There is an equally tall man sitting in the booth beside him with a shirt that reads: NO ITS NOT.

The third thing he notices is that he is extremely drunk. His cheeks are flushed and he’s half falling over the table as he tries to explain something while laughing.

Charles probably falls in love right there if he’s being honest, even if he never gets the courage to go up and talk to him. Alex is the one who says hi, weeks later, asking him if he wants to play pool.

Charles doesn’t know how to play pool. He says yes anyway because he thinks it might make Alex smile. It does.

He keeps saying yes and Alex keeps smiling. They move together after college graduation.

Charles is coming off a double shift and he can’t feel his feet when Sebastian shows up to give him a ride home. He makes him tea when they get in. It’s a blend of something herbal and sweet like honey.

Sebastian tells him Alex is still alive as Charles breathes in the steam. He tells him that they left him behind on Mars. That it was an accident. That they’re figuring out how to get him home.

Alex is alive, Charles thinks. I’ll get to see Alex smile again, Charles thinks, and promptly bursts into tears.

—

[08:47] BUTTON: Good, keep us posted on any mechanical or electrical problems. By the way, the name of the probe we're sending you is Iris. You know, the one who rode the waves of heaven using the wind. I think she's also the chick with the rainbows.

[08:49] ALBON: Gay probe coming to save me. Got it.

—

I’m so glad it’s not me stuck up there, the navigational assistant tells him. He was the one who discovered Alex was still alive in the first place. He tells him he noticed the MAV moving. His name is Yuki.

Alex thinks he’s going to say he’d miss people or fresh fruit or Netflix or sex or something. Alex hasn’t had a mango in so long. He hasn’t had a blowjob in even longer. Some days he isn’t sure which is worse.

Yuki is very very funny.

Can you imagine only eating potatoes, he tells Alex. I would rather die dead and alone. And then: though I guess you would not have to imagine.

And then: the eating potatoes bit. sorry. you haven’t done the other one yet.

Alex laughs so much he rebreaks a only barely healed rib and NASA yells at them both. His calcium levels are very low.

—

[21:27] BUTTON: How are the crops affecting that number? As to your question: We haven't told the crew you're alive yet. We wanted them to concentrate on their own mission.

[21:30] ALBON: The crops are potatoes. I got them from the ones we were supposed to eat for Christmas. They're doing great but the available farmland isn't sustainable. I'll run out of food around SOL 900. Also. Fucking tell the crew I'm alive???? What the fuck is wrong with you????

[21:31] BUTTON: SOL 900 is great news. That'll give us time to get a supply mission to you. And I’ve been told to tell you to watch your language. Everything you type is being broadcasted around the world.

[21:32] ALBON: Look! A pair of boobs - > ( . Y . )

—

Dear Alex: Apparently, NASA is letting us talk to you now. And I drew the short straw. Sorry we left you behind on Mars.

But we just don't like you. You're sort of annoying. And you shed hair everywhere.

Also, it's a lot roomier on the Hermes without you. We have to take turns doing your tasks. But, I mean, it's only botany. It's not a real science.

How's Mars?

— George.

—

Alex stares up at the plain white ceiling of the HAB. The wind roars and rages outside and the Level Threw sandstorm shakes the walls. It holds. It always holds.

When he makes the journey to find the HAB of the HERMES TWO, he’ll be technically crossing international waters without any explicit permission from a governmental body. That makes him a pirate.

I’m going home, Alex thinks. And then: I can’t wait to tell Charlie that he’s married to a bad boy.

Alex runs a hand over his face. He’s even gotten the beard to go with it.

—

Dear George: Mars is fine. When I get lonely I think of that steamy night I spent with your mum.

How are things on Hermes? Cramped and claustrophobic? Yesterday I went outside and looked at the horizons. They really do go on forever.

— Alex.

—

"Thing is," Alex scrambles to say, mouth dry and sore. "I'm selfish. I want all the memorials back home to be just about me. I don't want the rest of you losers in any of them. I can't let you guys blow the VAL. Also, I'm the only one who is allowed to make Charlie cry. Them's the rules."

"Oh," Lewis says. "Well, I mean, if you won't let us — wait. Wait a minute, I think I see something on my shoulder patch here. Oh, right, yeah, it says I'm the Commander. So, you know, what I say goes. Shut the fuck up and sit tight. We're coming to get you."

Alex swallows — or tries to at least. His whole body aches. He thinks he broke a rib, or two. Or three. He wants to cry.

"Copy that, sir."

"We've got you, man." Lewis's voice is warm. Alex doesn't have to imagine his smile anymore. He's going to get to see it very soon.

—

Alex is all bone and mouth when Charles gets to see him again. He has lost so many of his freckles. He hugs him close, pressing his thumbs into the hinge of Alex's jaw. Alex bows and curls over him and Charles doesn't let either of them fall.

He tastes vaguely of salt and snot when Charles kisses him. Charles is crying.

Alex is smiling when he pulls away, arms tight around Charles' back. "Look at your face," he says softly. He's talking to himself.

"I'm here," Charles replies, louder than necessary. Alex blinks at him and his smile, impossibly, gets even bigger. Charles's stomach squirms.

"You're a mess," Alex teases him, running a hand through Charles' hair. Charles doesn't say anything about how his hands shake.

“You should stay here and take care of me then,” Charles says, and Alex closes his eyes, smushing his nose hard into the skull of Charles’s forehead. Charles digs his nails in.

Fuck you, Mars, Charles. Fuck you.

#i hope u like ! sorry it took so long ahajsjsksk writing is like pulling teeth recently #chalex #alex/charles #little fics #lourdes tag #the martian au #f1 rpf

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gainingfiction · 2 years

Text

Big Bro

Summary: Marco is a cocky jock used to coasting through life on his good looks. His stepbrother Jared has always been fat, and teasing him about it is Marco’s favourite pastime. But when Jared starts slimming down, Marco’s latest scheme (sabotaging Jared’s diet) comes back to bite him in a big way.

This story owes a huge debt to “Neighbors” by Anonymous. I couldn’t match that story’s rapid-fire pace, but I do think I did justice to the narrator’s snarky tone.

I’m one of those guys who can eat whatever he wants. It’s true—my whole life I’ve had this amazing metabolism. I ate like a pig all through high school, and I had the best body in that place. Probably because I played so many sports.

My stepbrother, Jared, wishes he could eat like me and look as good as I do. Dude is so lazy, and so damn fat. The only exercise he gets is lifting a fork and getting up for seconds. I don’t know where he gets it—my stepdad keeps in pretty good shape; he’s a pretty good looking dude, all around. My mom definitely could have done worse.

But Jared was always big, at least as long as I’ve known him. He used to get some shit for it in high school, but never when I was around. In a weird way, I felt kind of protective over him. We were 17 when our parents got married, and we didn’t have much in common—I mean, come on, look at us. But I still don’t like other people ragging on him for being such a fat fuck. It’s like, I can say that, but it feels different if it comes from a stranger. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain.

Do I tease Jared? Well, yeah, but he knows I’m just screwing around. When you hit 300, 350 pounds like he is, you probably get used to people messing with you. One time I slapped a “Wide Load” sticker on his back, and he walked around for like, an hour before he noticed. My mom was pissed; I definitely got in some shit for that one. And then there was the time I loosened all the screws in his gaming chair—I still remember the look on his face when he came crashing down like a ton of bricks. Hilarious.

Lately, though, I have a new way of messing with him. It’s so damn funny. He’s doing this diet thing, so I’ll pig out on all his favourite junk food, right in front of him. Put on a real show, too, sighing and moaning and licking the ice cream off the spoon like I’m in some kind of commercial. Or a porno. His face is priceless, with his eyes glazed-over and his hands rubbing that big fat gut of his. It must be torture for a guy like that, to see a guy who looks like me stuffing his face with all the food he knows he can’t have.

So I’m pretty sure he’s gonna snap soon, and fall off the wagon in a big way. He’s never exactly been the poster boy for restraint, loading up at every meal like it’s gonna be his last, then waddling—and I do mean waddling—off to play video games with his arms full of snacks. Plus, he’s in culinary school now. I mean, go figure, right? How’s a guy going to stick to his diet when he’s surrounded by food for a living?

That’s why I’m glad I don’t have to diet. I’m a server at this big family restaurant, so I’m pretty used to working around good food. I’ve been working there for about four years now, since I was 16, so the kitchen staff have gotten to know me pretty well. They’re never shy with the leftovers, and I’ll never say no to free grub. Especially not when it looks that good. I used to just have a quick bite on my break, to keep my energy up, but lately I’ve been bringing a big doggy bag home so I can pig out on ribs, mashed potatoes, burgers and fries in front of poor Jared.

I’m honestly impressed he’s stuck out on this diet thing for as long as he has. It’s been a couple of months now, and he’s still at it, picking away at celery sticks and Greek yoghurt and boring salads while I pile up plate after plate of whatever I want. Seems like he’s starting to get some results, too. He’s still a massive fatass, but his clothes are a little looser (or less hilariously tight), and his gut doesn’t hang out quite as far in front of him, either.

I’ve been trying to save up enough to move out for a while now, but I’m not exactly great with money. I like to have a good time, you know? My mom’s always on my case about how often I go clubbing with my friends, not to mention all the hot clothes I buy to show off my killer bod. That shit just looks good on me. If it shows off how pumped my arms and pecs look, of course I’m gonna buy it. But I’m starting to get serious about moving out—I’ve been taking on way more shifts at the restaurant. It does mean I’ve had to cut back on my trips to the gym a little bit, but that doesn’t matter. Like I said, my metabolism can do anything.

When I do finally move out, I’m gonna miss seeing Jared’s sad puppy dog eyes when he watches me scarfing down chips and swigging beer like it’s going out of style. “Unh, this is sooo good,” I’ll moan, clutching my stomach as I shovel another spoonful of rocky road into my mouth. “These brownies are incredible,” I’ll say, licking the chocolate off my fingers while Jared just stares on, nibbling carrot sticks like the world’s fattest rabbit. So funny.

I’ve been having some uniform problems lately. It’s the weirdest thing. I’ve been wearing size 32 jeans for years, but lately my pants have been kind of hard to button. Same thing with my shirts—I’ve only ever worn a medium, but lately they’re feeling a little snug, especially when I’m a little bloated after my second dessert. My buddies have been joking that I need to cool it with all the food I’m scarfing down, but they’re probably just jealous. They’re all a bunch of diet-obsessed muscle heads; those drama queens don’t understand how much a guy like me can put away without gaining weight.

Speaking of clothes that don’t fit, Jared looks like he’s swimming in his old t-shirts and cargo shorts. I’ve seen him shirtless, heading to and from the shower, and he’s definitely still a lardass, but I can’t deny that he’s lost at least a few pounds.

And speaking of a few pounds, I had the weirdest experience at the club the other night when I was out with a couple of the guys. Looking like I do, I always clean up there. Normally, guys throw themselves at me—I haven’t had to pay for a drink of my own in ages, considering how many I get for free. But that night, I got maybe one free drink from a guy who was about twice my age! I smiled at him, but I was surprised he thought he had a shot with me. And then, later, I was flirting with this pretty little twink at the bar. We’d hooked up once before, but that night he seemed totally over me. When I finally got him to look up from his phone, he put his hand on my side, and then pulled it away like I’d burned him. “You need to hit the gym, Marco,” he said.

And then he just walked away! I was so pissed, I walked right out of there. I stopped by a pizza place on the way home and picked up a few slices… I’ll admit it, I do eat my feelings, sometimes. But like I’ve been saying, it’s no problem when you’ve got a body like mine.

The owner of the restaurant called me into the office recently, and handed me a new uniform. I was sort of confused. Then he pointed at my stomach and said, “You need a size up, young man. That show you’re putting on is distracting.” Show? What show? At first I thought he meant the gun show, although my killer biceps have never been a problem before. Then I realized that my shirt was starting to slip up around my stomach and on the sides. I really must have overdone it on the pasta, to be that bloated.

Still, I do appreciate the new threads. Clearly they’re doing something with the sizing, because the 36s fit me a lot better than my old pair of 34s. To be honest, they still aren’t what I’d call loose, but I can at least get them on without it turning into a whole production. And it’s nice to wear a shirt that I can breathe in—and eat in.

On the subject of eating, I still haven’t managed to get Jared to crack yet. He’s dedicated, but I know I can break him. I think I’m getting close. The other night, I came home with a dozen frosted donuts, and I ate one after the other, moaning like a noisy bottom during a good fuck. I can tell he’s starting to crack, because he got this weird, distant look in his eyes, and he couldn’t stop staring at me. He looked seriously tempted when I dangled my tenth donut under his nose, but he just looked at me and said, “You have it, Marco.” Well, if you insist, bro! Ten was all I could manage, though, since my tank was seriously full by that point. The other two made for a good midnight snack, at least.

Teasing him isn’t as fun as it used to be. He’s dropped some serious weight by this point. He still has a big, soft gut and a fat ass, but he must have shifted about 80 pounds. Maybe more, honestly. And he’s getting to be in better shape—he has a real spring in his step, and his hips have slimmed down enough that he can walk without waddling. I even walked in on him doing bicep curls in his room the other day! I almost laughed out loud. “Gonna get into sumo, bro?” I asked him. He just smirked at me and kept going. Like I said, he’s getting harder to make fun of.

But tempting him has never been easier. He’s practically doing it for me at this point, bringing home all this food from his culinary classes. It’s something different every day: a huge porterhouse steak fried in garlic butter, thick slices of New York style cheesecake, Nashville fried chicken… Like, okay, bro, but it’s your funeral! If you wanna see me eat all the delicious food that you can’t have, I’ll eat it, but don’t blame me when your diet goes belly up. Besides being a regular glutton, he must be a glutton for punishment, since he just stares at me while I eat plate after plate. Damn can he cook, though.

My mom has been kind of on my case about me clearing out the fridge on a regular basis. I don’t know what her damage is; I mean, a guy’s gotta eat, right? But she and my stepdad have definitely been giving me a few looks when I load up my plate with seconds and thirds at dinner. “You must be hungry, big guy!” my stepdad said the other night. He even poked me in the stomach! I assume he was kidding around, but still, it kind of annoyed me. Like, nobody ever said shit about Jared when he would demolish a big bowl of pasta, but when Marco’s the one pigging out, suddenly it’s a criminal offence? Give me a break. And who the fuck is “big guy”? Like, maybe take a look at your own son, bud.

At least Jared’s been cool. He’s really not a bad guy. I guess there are no hard feelings about me messing with him, since he did me a real solid the other day. I was trying to get into a pair of pants before work, but they were giving me a really hard time. I was tugging and fighting, and starting to get a little out of breath from all the struggling—yeah, I know, probably time to hit the gym, but that was like an arm workout of its own! But those damn pants just wouldn’t budge. I’m telling you, 38 inches is not as big as it sounds. And then Jared walks by, notices me having the fight of my life with a pair of khakis, and comes back a minute later with a pair of his own.

I tried not to laugh in his face, since he was trying to do something nice. I mean, come on, dude, those are gonna be huge on me! Or so I thought. Like I said, all these clothing companies must be getting weird with the sizes since a 40-inch waist really wasn’t a bad fit. “Don’t sweat it, Marco,” he said. “Everyone puts on a little weight in their 20s.”

Yeah, you’d know, I wanted to say. Except, that wasn’t really true. He’s still fat, but not comically fat. He just looks like a big bear. But still, where does this guy get off? “A little weight”? A guy that size is in no position to talk.

But I figured that he might have a point. I mean, I definitely do look a little softer around the edges… my gut is getting kind of hard to ignore, and I’m getting a pretty big butt. Not that a big ass is a bad thing… I have to admit, I do kind of like having a nice, round bubble butt to grab onto.

A few days later, I decided to see how much I’d put on.

When I stepped on the scale, I did a double take. I know I might have packed on a few pounds, but I was thinking 10, 15 tops. But the damn thing must have been broken, since it said I weigh 247 pounds. I mean, 247? Are you kidding me? I was 171 when I graduated high school; there’s no way I’ve packed on 76 pounds. Not with my metabolism. Maybe 20, but close to 80? That thing had to be busted.

I decided to ask Jared about it. If the scale said I was closing in on 250, I don’t know what it would have said about him! So I asked him straight-up: “How much are you weighing these days? According to the scale upstairs?”

“245, last time I checked,” he said. “Although I usually use the scales at the gym.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Okay, so they definitely were broken. No way I’m fatter than fatass Jared. Any scale that says I am must be seriously out of whack. I decided to celebrate with a couple of pieces of the apple pie he’d brought home the day before. I ate most of it last night, but there was still enough left for a half-decent snack. I made a big show of looking my stepdad in the eyes as I shovelled out a few scoops of ice cream to go with it, almost daring him to say something. He didn’t, though.

I have to admit, I’m a little bummed out now that Jared’s graduated from culinary school. I had gotten used to free food on a nightly basis, and there was something pretty satisfying about tempting him with his own cooking. Turns out, that’s the least of my worries: Jared got a job as a cook at my restaurant! Which means I’ll have to see him at work and around the house.

There is one upside, at least. Ever since Jared started, the kitchen has been very generous with the free food. I’m talking full steaks and ribs during my shift, with two or three sides: loaded baked potatoes, cheese fries, potato wedges… the good shit. Plus, doggy bags to bring home, complete with some of my favourite desserts. And I make sure Jared can see me eating all of it. It must be killing him, now that he can’t avoid it at home or work! I bet he’s gonna give up that diet thing any day now.

“Maybe you should go on a diet, yourself,” my pal Jordan said when we were out for drinks the other night. Well, the guys were getting drinks, I was getting drinks and a few appetizers; like I said, a guy’s gotta eat! I could see Jordan staring at my body, and he had the nerve to give my gut a slap! “You’re getting bigger than Jared, dude.”

“Fuck off,” I said, laughing. I grabbed a handful of potato skins. I was starting to regret bringing up my little pet project. “He’s a whale compared to me.” I gave my arms a flex for emphasis, and then took a swig of beer.

“I don’t know, man, that gut is getting out of control,” Aiden said, poking me in the stomach. I flushed; what was this, some kind of intervention? “When was the last time you hit the gym? I haven’t seen you around there in ages.”

“Nah, Aiden, he’s been working out,” Tony said. He cupped one of my pecs and gave it a jiggle, “His jaw muscles have never been stronger!” I tugged on the hem of my shirt, trying to remember when my pecs got so damn jiggly. I can’t even explain it, but there was something about my buddies manhandling me like that that got me kind of hot and bothered.

The guys all laughed. “That’s funny, ‘cause I can’t see ‘em!” Aiden chimed in. More laughter. I clenched my jaw; maybe my face is a little rounder, but I hide it well with some stubble. I thought I looked pretty hot.

“I was talking to Reed the other day,” Tony said. “You guys remember Reed, Marco’s old fuckbuddy? Works at Silk and Satin? Well, he said he barely recognized you when he saw you at the club a couple weeks back.”

I must have been bright scarlet by that point. “Reed’s a fucking liar,” I grumbled. “He was all over me that night.” The truth was, I couldn’t even flag that little dick down to order myself a drink, but I wasn’t about to admit that to the guys. Silk and Satin is overpriced and overrated, anyway. Just a meat market full of shallow gym bunnies.

“Yeah, there’s a lot to be all over!” Jordan said. He turned to me and put a hand on my arm. “Seriously, though, let us know if you want some help at the gym. You’re not a bad looking guy, Marco, it’d be a crime to throw those good looks away.”

I wanted to melt into my seat. “Yeah, thanks,” I said. I didn’t even know what they were talking about; how exactly was I throwing my looks away? I was just hungry.

The guys might have a point about me getting bigger than Jared, though. I was passing him in the hallway the other day, and I caught sight of our guts. Well, shit, I’m pretty sure mine stuck out farther than his! Had more jiggle to it, too…. That might explain why I’ve been borrowing his old clothes and he’s been borrowing mine. But I wrote the experience off; his metabolism sucks compared to mine, so it’s definitely temporary. Probably just a bloat. I just need to cool it with the junk food and hit the gym again. I promised Jordan I’d go with him, but I just haven’t found the right time, you feel?

And I also didn’t want to run into Jared. He’s in that place every damn day, running or lifting or doing whatever he’s been doing to shrink that fat ass of his down to a reasonable size. A very reasonable size, apparently, since that ass seemed to be getting plenty of attention in the locker room: a couple of my friends had started commenting on what a round, perky bubble butt he’s sporting. He’s a fatass! I wanted to say… I would have, too, if I wasn’t wearing his old size-46 jeans. And it was probably time to ask if he had any with a 48” waist, since those are getting pretty tight…

It seems like the whole damn world is going crazy. The other day at work, a couple of the waitresses were talking about Jared like he was the hottest guy around. I had to jump in and say something, I just couldn’t ignore it. It used to annoy me when people talked shit about him, but lately, that wasn’t even a problem—everyone seemed to be joining the Jared fan club. And no, I definitely wasn’t jealous, fuck you very much. Why would I be? “Don’t you think he’s kind of… fat?”

I’ll admit, maybe my timing wasn’t great. Earlier that shift, I was turning around in the stock room and I knocked a whole bunch of cleaning supplies off the shelf with my ass. It’s not my fault, okay? That room is cramped; they really need a supply closet that’s big enough for normal people. And I’ve got a lot of junk in the trunk! Since when did that become a bad thing?

They frowned at me. Jessica gave me a look like she’d just stepped in something. Which was pretty rich, given how she used to leer at me like her own personal Playgirl centerfold. “He just has a little dad bod,” she said. “And besides, you’re one to talk.”

I scowled back. “What, this?” I patted my stomach, realizing I’d slapped it hard enough to make it jiggle a little. I had to tug my shirt down where the motion forced it up. “This is nothing. It’s like, a delayed freshman 15.” I didn’t point out that it was more like 100, at this point. Okay, okay, maybe a little more. No more than 150, though. I swear.

Kristen snorted. “Pretty sure you have to be a freshman to pull that off,” she said. “You’re obviously just jealous.”

It was all I could do not to burst out laughing. Me, jealous of Jared? If anything, they’re jealous of me, bitter that they’ll never have a shot with me.

Still, after that I decided to cool it a little with the food. I’m a big guy with a big appetite, but getting those sorts of comments is way out of my comfort zone. They give me this feeling in my gut that I don’t even understand. It’s like… shit, people are starting to think of me as a fat guy. It’s weird. So I decided to help myself to all the food the kitchen threw my way that night, and cap off the night with a trip to McDonald’s for a few Big Mac meals. The diet would start tomorrow.

Except, it didn’t. I really planned on eating better, but it’s not as easy as I thought it would be. I’ve always liked to eat, and never had to count calories in my life. It’s not like I didn’t try—I had a bowl of granola for breakfast and everything. But I don’t know how people live on that rabbit food; I was starving again after an hour. So when Jared whipped up a big plate of waffles, I couldn’t resist. I had to dig in.

It sort of became a cycle. I’d promise myself I’d start eating better and working out again. I’d have something halfway-healthy for breakfast. But I was so miserable and hangry that I just couldn’t deal. So I’d end up at Five Guys, stuffing my face with fries and washing it down with a chocolate and peanut butter shake. By that point I’d be so full that even thinking about the gym was a chore, so I’d blow Jordan off and head home to take a nap, or maybe watch the game or play some video games with Jared. He’s actually kind of fun to hang out with, to be totally honest. Rinse and repeat, day after day. Meanwhile, Jared is there throwing his healthy diet in my face, munching on salmon filets and garden salads like he’s Jenny Craig’s bottom all of a sudden.

At least he doesn’t make a big deal out of how much I’m eating like our parents. He’s like, the least judgmental guy I know. I’ve been complaining to him about how annoying it is to still be living at home, how I need my independence. Take my mom, for example: she’s always pushing stupid healthy food on me. And I swear my stepdad is judging me for eating as much as I do. I don’t care what he thinks, though. It may be your house, Roger, but I’m a full-grown man, and I can eat whatever I want. So what if I want to eat a lot? That never seemed to be a problem when your own son was stuffing his face around the clock. Glass houses, right?

And then weeks would pass, and then months, and I couldn’t get my pants to button. Well, Jared’s pants. First 48 inches got tight around the waist, then my thighs busted the seams on his 50s, and before I knew it, I had to stop raiding Jared’s closet. I’d straight-up outgrown every damn thing in there. Let me just say, I’m not proud to be walking around the big-and-tall store trying to find something to disguise my gut.

And the guys in the kitchen at work are no help. Tempting me with food is like a game to them. Let’s see how much Marco can eat today, I imagined them saying, as they loaded up plate after plate with pasta, steaks, burgers, and fries. How much can we feed him this time? I swear, it’s like they’re messing up orders on purpose just to push the rejects in my direction.

No one tells you how hard it is to be a fat guy. When I hit 350 pounds, I realized that’s what I was—a fat guy. Getting hungry all the time is one thing, and getting out of breath hauling all my weight around could have been expected. But there are a million little things I never even imagined. Like showers. I used to hop in, lather up my abs and my ass, and hop out. Not anymore. Now, it’s like a goddamn Olympic event, squeezing into the shower, soaping up all those hard to reach places… downright exhausting. And sitting in booths? Not gonna happen. I’ve even started looking at certain chairs funny, wondering if they’re gonna splinter like kindling under all this extra weight. 360 pounds… 370 pounds… When I crossed 380, I decided to stop keeping track. What difference does it even make, anymore?

And the looks I get? I never imagined. It used to be that guys couldn’t get enough of me; I used to turn heads when I walked into a room. Then people just started ignoring me. Now, those jackasses are downright hostile. Their heads turn for other reasons. Like, okay, I’m a little on the big side, I’m not gonna fucking sit on you, or eat you. Some bratty little twink straight-up huffed and rolled his eyes when I sat next to him on the bus. Sure, I may have been taking up a pretty major slice of his seat, but it wasn’t like I was letting my love handles spill over onto him on purpose. You would have been all over me three years ago, I wanted to say. And that bus ride was its own ordeal—those doors are narrow! And I forgot how sweaty I get from just walking around, not to say jogging to catch the 34. I was pretty damn pleased when I got my car back from the shop.

My so-called “friends” are the worst of all. Turns out they’re all shallow gym rats. Aiden, who I grew up with, actually pretended not to know me when I bumped into him at Starbucks for my daily caramel frappuccino! Like knowing a guy my size would make him guilty by association.

They’re all too busy chasing after guys like Jared. Yeah, that’s right, fatass Jared has become a hot commodity among thirsty gay boys. Seeing him fill out my clothes with his muscular lats and round, firm glutes almost makes me want to cry. Those jeans were mine! That Marc Jacobs bomber jacket was mine! Those friends were mine!

I can’t even stay mad at him, though. He’s just too decent. If I even seem hungry, he’ll jump up and start chopping potatoes and frying bacon. I kind of wonder about the new him, though—is he happy? He definitely seems like it, when he’s slipping on some form-hugging muscle shirt to go clubbing, or crawling home with some stud under his arm. But when he sits down across from me at the table, watching me devour donut after donut, burger after burger, there’s always this look in his eyes… it’s not even like he’s hungry. He doesn’t want the food, he wants… something else. I wish he wasn’t so damn hard to read.

I was really starting to like the guy when he went and dropped a bomb on me. He was moving out. “I’m almost 22, Marco,” he said, when I tried to protest. “I can’t live with my dad forever.”

You know what? I almost got a little choked up. “I feel like I was just starting to get to know you,” I said.

He smiled at me. “I’ll still be around.”

But what about your food? I wanted to ask him. Sure, there’s the food he makes at work, and my full-blown fast food addiction, but none of it can match the stuff he makes me. As a former fat guy himself, he knows how to make food taste good. Really, really good. It isn’t just butter and sugar, either, it’s care. Watching him cook… the guy is an artist. I didn’t want to let that go. I didn’t want to let him go.

And when it rains, it pours. About a week after Jared moved out, the owner of the restaurant called me into his office. I sat down—on two chairs, just to be safe—and felt like I already knew where this was going.

“1,932 dollars, Marco,” he said.

I just looked at him. What the hell was he talking about?

“That’s how much free food you ate in the last month alone. If you sat down and ordered all of it off the menu, it would cost almost two thousand dollars.”

I didn’t know what to say. Sure, I liked steak, and pasta, and cheesecake. I liked a lot of food. But I’d never really thought about it like that before. The guys in the kitchen handed me food, and I ate it. That’s what I told him.

He sighed. He had this pinched look on his face. I guess he might have been handsome 20 or 30 years ago, but there was something mean in his features. “I’ve talked to the kitchen staff, and they tell me you’re constantly bothering them for food. I’ve never minded giving out a few meals here and there, but…. This has become an issue.”

I gulped. Maybe I asked for a few freebies here and there, but it’s not like I was some sort of addict. They were pushing it on me! If I asked for it, they made it.

My cheeks were red hot. What do you even say to that? “Okay,” is what I came up with.

“And it’s been affecting your work performance. Customers have complained. Tips are worse when you wait tables, which makes the other waitstaff unhappy. You take breaks constantly. I think maybe it’s time that you moved on.”

Moved on? This guy was firing me? I’d been working there for more than six years, since I was a kid. And now I was out on my ass, because I like to eat and customers don’t want a 400-pounder waiting at their tables? “Woah, I don’t think that’s fair, I—”

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Marco. I like you. But you’re not the young man I hired.”

That pissed me off. So this guy wanted me to stay some pretty little piece of ass for the rest of my life? Like the Peter Pan of hot gay jocks? Sorry I’m not a hunky teenager anymore, I wanted to say. Sorry I got fat. That’s fucking life.

But I didn’t. I just stared at him.

“You can work the rest of the shifts on your schedule. But after that, I think it’s best if you find another job.”

Bye, bye moving out: after years of saving up, getting ready to move out on my own without roommates, I could kiss that plan goodbye. I didn’t know what to do with myself.

Food was my comfort and my vengeance. If the owner had a problem with me getting fat off free meals, well, he hadn’t seen anything yet. I had four shifts on my schedule, and Jared and the other cooks made absolutely sure that my gut was completely stuffed after every one of them. How many hundreds of dollars would that have cost me, dick?

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do next, Jared,” I said after my last shift. I was off the clock, but I stayed and watched him cleaning up around the kitchen, prepping for the next day. Damn, he’s really changed: big, brawny arms, prominent pecs, a chiselled jawline… the sort of guy I used to want… and used to be.

He looked up from the herbs he was chopping, staring at me as I picked at a heaping bowl of french fries. “You could move in with me,” he said.

I paused. It was something I wanted, but something I didn’t think I could have. I didn’t even think it was right to want it in the first place. He was such a good cook, and he was pretty much the last good friend I had left in the world. He was the only one who didn’t seem to care what I ate, or how fat I got. Maybe it was because he’d been there himself, or maybe it was because he liked me.

And to be honest, I kind of liked the new me, too. I liked eating. I loved it, actually. I used to challenge myself at the gym, but now, I could challenge myself at the kitchen table. Instead of pushing myself to do more reps, or bench more weight, gluttony was my new challenge. How many donuts can I eat today? Could I polish off a whole frozen cheesecake in one sitting? The answer was usually “yes”, and I’ll admit, there’s an undeniable pleasure in pushing your gut to new horizons. If blowing up like a balloon was a side-effect of that, it was a price I was willing to pay. Big guys had more presence, they took up more space. Was that such a bad thing to be? Was that wrong to want?

I looked at Jared. How many good meals had he made me? How many times had he gone to bat for me when my mom or his dad got on my case? Living with him, hanging out with him all the time, eating his amazing cooking whenever I want it… it all sounded like a dream come true.

“I don’t know, I don’t have a job, I don’t know how I’d pay rent,” I said. Admitting that felt kind of pathetic.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. He smiled, but there was something in his eyes, something… dark? “Besides, you’re going to need someone to take care of you when you’re too fat to take care of yourself.”

I felt my throat get tight. He’s never said anything like that before. Jared’s always been this stable, comforting presence. I don’t even know where a comment like that came from.

But I nodded.

Because, deep down, I know he’s right.

And I know I’ll probably like it.

#weight gain #male weight gain #gay #weight gain story #wg story #realistic gain #gaining fiction

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