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chosetherose · 1 year ago

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FULL ARTICLE:

WHEN TRAVIS KELCE was a young man, his college football coach pulled him aside one day and told him the secret of life: Everybody you meet in this world is either a fountain or a drain.

“I need fountains,” the coach growled at Kelce. “I don’t need f—ing drains. Travis, you’re f—ing draaaining me!”

The advice left a deep impression. (“Changed his life,” says one of Kelce’s closest friends.) Yes, Kelce thought—you’re either a giver of the basic wellsprings of life or a thirsty taker. He vowed to be the former. In a world of gutters, be a geyser.

You think about that story as Kelce drives you around his beloved Kansas City, home of his world-champion Chiefs, for whom he’s the star tight end and arguably the second-most popular player, after his best friend, quarterback Patrick Mahomes. You think about that story on a gorgeous autumn afternoon as Kelce gives you a personal tour of his decadelong history in this city, his singular journey from clueless rook to legend. (“I used to take this scenic route [to the stadium]—there’s just something about seeing the city you’re about to go represent….”)

You can’t help thinking about that fountain story, not only because Kelce’s custom-made Rolls-Royce looks like a font of glowing light, not only because its silver goddess hood ornament is a burbling spigot of mercury. You think about that story because, as Kelce stops at a red light, as shirtless guys begin shambling toward the Rolls, apparently intent on opening the doors, getting an autograph, maybe even catching a ride, Kelce doesn’t seem the least bit alarmed. He’s smiling, waving, honking, even chuckling at a fan who leaps off the curb and “hits the stanky leg,” a dance Kelce has been known to bust out after a touchdown. At one point Kelce rolls down the window and exchanges hellos with some guy heedlessly reversing his rig into oncoming traffic, just so he can pull alongside Kelce and give a thumbs-up.

A different sort of celebrity might be more guarded, might even chirp those big Rolls tires and speed away before someone throws their body across the luminous silver bonnet, but Kelce’s default emotion is this—exuberant extroversion. He likes people. Loves people. Never mind deciding not to be a drain. If people gush at him, he can’t help it, he gushes back.

Noting all this, you think how fame itself might be a kind of fountain. Some people moan about getting wet, others frolic like kids around a hydrant. You even wonder if this fountain-drain paradigm might be the skeleton key to Kelce, the Rosetta Stone for which half of America seems to be hunting right now.

Kelce was famous for several years, thanks to his Hall of Fame résumé, his symbiotic relationship with Mahomes, but that was just football famous. This year, after winning the Super Bowl, after hosting Saturday Night Live, after starring in all the commercials, Kelce became inescapable. And that was before—you know.

People have begun to ask in all earnestness why they can’t turn on their TV anymore without seeing Kelce’s sculpted mug. They wonder, not with snark, but in all sincerity: Who the frick is this guy? And where did he come from?

You have a TV. You wonder too. So you decide to join the search for answers. One weekend, in the thick of football season, you get on a plane to Kansas City.

BUT FIRST. Back up. Like that knucklehead who threw it into reverse, go back. Before you can take the Travis Michael Kelce Guided Tour, you need to watch him cry.

Kelce is a hard man to tackle, but he’s shockingly easy to trigger. You just have to mention his best friends, the tight-knit crew who hang at his house and tag along on his golf outings, who manage his money and curate his diet and fill his private suite at Arrowhead Stadium. Suddenly, his cornflower-blue eyes, which normally twinkle, start to glisten. Now come the tears. Big sloppy ones. Talk about your fountains.

Kelce tries to play it off. He launches a sentence, stops. He launches another, again aborts. He paws his eyes with his giant hands and looks to be on the verge of losing it, because if Kelce loves people, what he really loves is his people.

This whole display takes place on a Monday afternoon at a Kansas City steakhouse, where you and Kelce are having an early dinner. Like, retirement-community early. He’s in recovery mode, healing from dozens of violent collisions sustained during the previous day’s win over division rival Los Angeles, and food is medicine. He can intuit when he’s hit the caloric sweet spot necessary to mend or maintain his 6-foot-5, 260-pound frame (roughly 4,000), and he’s not there yet. So he orders the dry-aged filet rubbed with coffee, Caesar salad (hold the anchovies), a side of “triple-cooked” fries and a glass of water.

After a long pause, and several Lamaze breaths, Kelce collects himself, apologizes. Can’t help it, he says; those folks who always have his back, who call him by the ancient secret nicknames (Big Yeti, El Travedor, Killatrav, Michael, etc.)—they’re everything. He doesn’t think of them as his entourage; he thinks of them as family, an extension of “Mama Kelce” and “Poppa Kelce” and older brother Jason, the starting center for the Philadelphia Eagles.

Patrick Bacon, a friend since first grade, says Kelce’s go-to method of winding down after a hard game or long day is to sit with this “core group” around his kitchen island and chop it up. Talk, that’s what nourishes Kelce, not videogames, not bottle service at some club.

“He loves to talk about the old days,” Bacon says. But it has to be with people from the old days. People who know that Kelce will sometimes dismiss a bad or subpar thing as “buns.” People who know that one of Kelce’s favorite desserts is French toast dripping with whipped cream and syrup. People who know that, growing up, he played every sport in Cleveland Heights, Ohio, and also know the difference between Cleveland Heights and Cleveland proper. You want to break into the Kelce core group? You better have a phone number that starts with 216.

And yet, you wonder how well his friends really know him, how well he lets anyone know him, because to a person they all say Trav lives in the moment, Trav never thinks about tomorrow, Trav never worries about retirement, despite recently turning 34, making him a Gollum in the NFL, whereas Kelce confesses that he thinks about it nonstop, “more than anyone could ever imagine.” In the same spirit, perhaps, he keeps his own counsel about his round-the-clock physical anguish. “That’s the only thing I’ve never really been open about,” he says, “the discomfort. The pain. The lingering injuries—the 10 surgeries I’ve had that I still feel every single surgery to this day.”

Kansas City’s longtime tight ends coach, Tom Melvin, says Kelce undersells the pain because the alternative is not playing, and the man will not miss games. “He has phenomenal pain tolerance. He’s played through things that other athletes I’ve coached through the years have not been able to push through. Mentally tough—way off the charts.”

Kelce’s trainer and physical therapist, Alex Skacel, says there’s not a single day, in season, when Kelce stretches out on the training table and doesn’t have some gruesome bruise. What few realize, however, is the insane number of scratches. Guys claw each other out there, Skacel says; it can leave Kelce’s epidermis striated with crimson. To bounce back after such abuse requires more than basic therapy. Kelce and Skacel use a battery of esoteric treatments, from cupping to dry needling to occlusion therapy: essentially tying off a limb with a tourniquet while Kelce works out. Kelce also adheres to a pregame regimen of anti-inflammatories, which he doesn’t like to discuss because they “have a history of affecting people’s insides.”

Despite it all, Kelce sounds like a man who’s never loved football more. Skacel recalls being with Kelce in Paris for Fashion Week. Around midnight, after 12 hours of bouncing from one designer show to another, Kelce was feeling guilty that he hadn’t done enough that day for his body. He suggested a run. Soon, a quick jog along the Seine turned into a mini-marathon, then wind sprints across empty bridges. While Paris slept, Kelce and Skacel grinded. It was cinematic, both men say, a double pump of adrenaline, like something out of Rocky. More, it was a reaffirmation of what matters most.

IF KELCE BROODS on life without football, one reason is that he had an excruciating sneak preview. A redshirt sophomore at Cincinnati, he got booted off the team for smoking pot. In a blink, he lost everything—his purpose, his meaning. “It was like my life was over.”

He also lost his scholarship. He had to get a job. The best one he could find was at a telemarketing firm, doing healthcare surveys. “Eye-opening,” he says, bowing his head.

Cold-calling people in southern Ohio, northern Kentucky, eastern Indiana, asking what they thought of Obamacare, taught him a lot. (“Uh, sir, I ran out of the comment box, I can’t write anymore, we gotta kind of keep this moving.”) Above all it taught him that he didn’t want to ever do that again.

He probably won’t have to. He’s got options. Sometimes he sees himself in a broadcasting booth. Sometimes his manager talks about action flicks. (Maybe a Marvel movie? Kelce’s already built like Wolverine.) You also get the sense that Kelce toys with notions of doing some form of comedy. He haunts clubs, lives for open-mic nights, and he’s gotten to be friendly with several rising stand-ups.

At the moment, of course, the only thing millions of people want to know about Kelce’s future is whether or not it will include Taylor Swift. And the second thing they’re dying to know is how he and she got together in the first place.

More study has been dedicated to the opening salvos of their relationship than to the first seconds of the Big Bang, and thus far both origins remain a mystery. People have even speculated that Kelce somehow spoke his desire into the universe and just—manifested Swift?

Did he sit in a dark room and say Jumanji three times? He laughs. “I don’t know if I want to get into all of it,” he says, and then he gets into it, because fountain.

It all started when he tried to meet Swift at her Arrowhead concert in July and got blocked, presumably by security. He then recounted the experience in a charming way on the podcast he does with Jason. Soon after, he says, he received an unbidden assist from inside Team Swift.

“There were definitely people she knew that knew who I was, in her corner [who said]: Yo! Did you know he was coming? I had somebody playing Cupid.” He wasn’t aware at the time, however; the revelation only came later, after he looked down at his phone and got the shock of a lifetime. “She told me exactly what was going on and how I got lucky enough to get her to reach out.”

He lets slip that some of his early helpers were part of the Swift family tree. “She’ll probably hate me for saying this, but…when she came to Arrowhead, they gave her the big locker room as a dressing room, and her little cousins were taking pictures…in front of my locker.”

Understandably, he’s not handing out details about the first date, though he will say that he managed to not be nervous. “When I met her in New York, we had already kind of been talking, so I knew we could have a nice dinner and, like, a conversation, and what goes from there will go from there.”

If anyone was nervous, he adds, it was his core group. “Everybody around me telling me: Don’t f— this up! And me sitting here saying: Yeah—got it.”

As those first heady days unfolded, as news bulletins and cutaways showed Swift cheering Kelce on from his suite, Kelce was uncharacteristically guarded with the media. “That was the biggest thing to me: make sure I don’t say anything that would push Taylor away.”

Likewise, his mother. Donna Kelce still berates herself for how she handled a question about Taylor on the Today show. Trying not to sound too enthusiastic, she came off underwhelmed. Kelce, not wanting his mom to feel bad, immediately phoned her and assured her that she did a super job—adding that her green eyeglasses looked great.

These days, however, with the relationship progressing, Donna feels more at liberty. “I can tell you this,” she says, beaming. “He’s happier than I’ve seen him in a long time…. God bless him, he shot for the stars!”

Kelce seems freer, too. He doesn’t need to be asked about Taylor; he mentions her unreservedly, lavishes praise on her, calls her “hilarious,” “a genius,” notes that they share compatible worldviews, especially when it comes to family and work. “Everybody knows I’m a family guy,” he says. “Her team is her family. Her family does a lot of stuff in terms of the tour, the marketing, being around, so I think she has a lot of those values as well, which is right up my alley.”

One of Kelce’s friends describes a sweet, magical moment, a late-night gathering around Kelce’s firepit. Kelce and Swift looked like two “peas in a pod,” the friend says, and at one point they even burst into a memorable duet of—“Teenage Dirtbag”?

This must be fake

My lips start to shake

How does she know who I am?

LONG BEFORE MEETING SWIFT, Kelce was just another Swiftie. In some ways he still is. He explains the concept of her concert—“She does it in eras”—as if you live in a yurt in Outer Mongolia. Then he eagerly informs you that the night he attended, he was counting the minutes until she got to 1989. (Both he and Swift were born in 1989.) “ ‘Blank Space’ was one I wanted to hear live for sure. I could make a bad guy good for the weekend. That’s a helluva line!”

More often than not, he says, it was a Swiftian beat, a melody that captivated him. (“She writes catchy jingles.”) But lately he’s all about those lyrics; he’s scrutinized the breakup stuff. What a miracle, he says, the way Swift can turn life into poetry. “I’ve never been a man of words. Being around her, seeing how smart Taylor is, has been f—ing mind-blowing. I’m learning every day.”

Something he might need to learn from Swift: how to handle the attention. Kelce lives in a quiet neighborhood north of downtown—leafy trees, trim lawns, no gates. There’s now a clutch of desperate-looking dudes with cameras stationed on his sidewalk 24/7. He’s followed everywhere, drones buzzing overhead—it’s stressful, more than he lets on, according to one confidante.

“Obviously I’ve never dated anyone with that kind of aura about them…. I’ve never dealt with it,” Kelce says. “But at the same time, I’m not running away from any of it…. The scrutiny she gets, how much she has a magnifying glass on her, every single day, paparazzi outside her house, outside every restaurant she goes to, after every flight she gets off, and she’s just living, enjoying life. When she acts like that I better not be the one acting all strange.”

Asked if he has anything to teach Swift, he looks shy. He can’t think of anything offhand.

Football?

Sure, he says, sounding unsure.

Of course, the thing she probably wants to learn about most is him. While talking to Kelce you realize all at once that the most avid participant in the national scavenger hunt for clues about his character is likely Swift herself. To that end, Donna says that anyone wishing to understand her younger son would do well to start with her older. Travis “could never quite catch up” to Jason, she says. “He was always just second, just searching to be the best, and never quite getting there.” (The only way in which the two brothers were full equals was appetite. As boys, Donna says, “they would sit down and eat whole chickens.”)

Others say the key to Travis is simpler than that. He’s basically still the kid who filled his Dad’s shampoo bottle with hand cream. “He just lives his life with so much joy,” Jason says. “He’s always kind of surrounding himself with people who are funny, who have a zest for life; it’s one of the things that defines him.”

Jason recalls many nights in the Kelce family room, the two brothers and mom eating in front of some comedy. “We had one of those coffee tables that the top would lift up and meet you at your face if you were eating,” he says, guffawing.

Maybe that’s why Kelce still watches and rewatches those same movies and shows? All his sacred entities got fused into one dollop of sensory memory—food, family, laughter.

Indeed, Kelce has warned Swift that she’s going to have to reckon with this part of his personality. Adam Sandler, Chris Farley, Will Ferrell—they will all be a part of the relationship. “I told Taylor that I have that world, I’ve got to introduce it to her. I let her know: This is my jam right here.” (Kelce does an uncanny imitation of Farley’s dorky baritone, and the ringtone on his phone is Farley primal screaming: For the love of GOD!)

If the past is any prelude, this will register like an 8.0 earthquake among Swifties. Their queen—screening Tommy Boy? Every new factoid, every new piece of the puzzle, gets eagerly cataloged, investigated, celebrated, especially on “SwiftTok,” a fervent virtual community, according to Brian Donovan, a professor at the University of Kansas who teaches a seminar called The Sociology of Taylor Swift.

Donovan says several of his class discussions this semester have been given over to No. 87. Swifties make no apology for delving into her relationships, just as Shakespeare scholars like to contemplate the subject of the sonnets. But the deep “vetting” of Kelce, Donovan adds, goes well beyond fans. “I think there’s a public fascination, because it seems like a pure unalloyed moment of joy in the wider context of global wars, deepening political polarization, dysfunction in Congress, an ongoing health crisis. There’s a lot of bad news out there, and this is a common story that everybody knows about and can talk about. I don’t think we’ve had that in American culture for a long time.”

NOW GET IN THE CAR. Now you’re ready for the Rolls. Or are you? Gawking at the ceiling, you ask, Are those stars?

Yes, Kelce says.

You stare in disbelief. Embedded in a leather firmament are scores, no, hundreds—many hundreds—of twinkling lights, a fiber-optic galaxy meant to resemble the larger galaxy in which we’re all floating. For the sake of verisimilitude, the Rolls even produces a shooting star now and then. There was one, just a second ago, Kelce says. “Make a wish. Dreams come true.”

He guns the engine and steers toward downtown. The Rolls doesn’t drive so much as waft you around Kansas City. The ride is so cush, it almost makes sense, for a moment or two, that the car is worth more than many of the buildings you pass. (A Rolls Ghost, before customizing, goes for nearly half a million dollars.) All of which makes it that much more startling, as you come to the heart of downtown, when Kelce points out his first-ever apartment and shows you the alley door where he’d sneak in and out when he was late on the rent.

What?

It was his rookie season, he says, and the paychecks rolled in every week. But he didn’t understand that paychecks stop when the season does. So he didn’t budget. “I don’t want to say I was broke….” But he was. “There might have been one or two days I avoided the landlord.”

He’s not ducking landlords these days. Still, he’s grossly underpaid. His $14 million salary, though near the top among tight ends, is half what the league’s star receivers make, and Kelce often functions as a receiver.

Nothing to be done, he says flatly. The Chiefs know, he says, that he would play for free. They know he loves his city, his quarterback. “Unfortunately, in this business, things gotta get ugly, they gotta get unpleasant [if you want more money], and I’m a pleasant son of a buck.”

Thank goodness for endorsements. At this point, says his co-manager Aaron Eanes, “the NFL is just his side hustle.”

Eanes and his brother, Andre, handle much of Kelce’s business life, from investments to marketing, and it was they who widened his investment portfolio, putting him into a tequila company, an energy drink and a chain of car washes. They also steered him into lucrative endorsements, like Bud Light and the Covid vaccine, for which he caught much grief from Aaron Rodgers. The Jets quarterback, out since game one of the season with a torn Achilles, belittled Kelce as a Pfizer shill during one of his Tuesday appearances on The Pat McAfee Show.

Kelce took the high road then. He’s staying on it now. “Aaron’s always been cool to me,” he says. “I knew he was trying to have some fun. He’s in a situation where Tuesdays are his game days…. So I get it, man, I’ve been injured too…. Who knows what the guy is going through?”

Kelce double-parks the Rolls outside a building that’s brightly lit, unusual in this neighborhood. That’s Operation Breakthrough, he says, voice swelling with emotion. Founded in 1971, the charitable organization provides safe spaces and cutting-edge educational resources for the city’s poorest children. Kelce enjoys coming here to visit, and sometimes invites the children to his suite on Sundays. And three years ago, when Operation Breakthrough wanted to expand, he bought them the muffler shop next door.

Mary Esselman, Operation Breakthrough’s CEO, says that whenever Kelce visits, he doesn’t bring media and he doesn’t leave until the last kid has felt seen and appreciated. Not long ago, she adds, Kelce sponsored a football camp. Afterward, Esselman asked the children to name the highlight of the experience.

One told her: “He remembered my name.”

Kelce drives you past a jazz club he likes, a coffee place he used to frequent. Just recently, he concedes, he could go to a Starbucks in Manhattan without anyone looking twice. Those days seem over. Minutes later, he’s steering past a small airport, where Swift’s plane is often prominently parked these days.

Is it there now, gleaming in the moonlight? The Kelce eras tour is coming to a close. Left unsaid, but palpable: She’s at the house, waiting.

The Rolls pulls off the highway, up the hill to your hotel. You thank him for taking so much time, for answering all your questions. As you step out of the Rolls, you turn, ask him one more.

You ask him if you’re going crazy, or did he really say that thing when you first got in the car? Did he really point to a shooting star in the ceiling of his Rolls-Royce and say, “Make a wish. Dreams come true”?

He cracks up.

He did. He said it.

He’s not running from it.

What’s more, it might just be true.

“How do you think I manifest it all?”

#this took me forever #you’re welcome

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naivemlnd · 2 years ago

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Maybe it's You

Another BHM/FFA romance story I posted on dimensions magazine that I also wanted to post here :)

Summary: Catherine feels alone in the big city, until she meets a man who changes everything. Content warning: This story contains a character who suffers from health-related anxiety.

There’s something wrong with me.

There has to be.

I have these thoughts sometimes, and they’re not like what everyone else around me is thinking or feeling. They’re… different. Taboo even.

I can’t quite put my finger down on when they started. Maybe for as long as I remember. But it took a while for me to understand that other people didn’t feel the same.

In kindergarten, I’d grab the pudgiest boy in class by the arm, squeezing his upper arm fat like it was a stress ball. He would laugh, seemingly happy to have found a friend at all, even if she was odd and didn’t respect personal boundaries.

But it became weird in first and second grade. You couldn’t just grab someone’s fat and squeeze it. And other kids liked to poke fun at the fat kids, they would taunt them.

Eventually I would just join in. It was easier that way. Less conspicuous. But I’d never grown out of wanting to touch, to feel that supple flesh under my hands.

During puberty was when I really noticed it.

People would talk about going to second base, how hot abs were, how sexy an hourglass figure was on a girl. But I was only ever aroused when I imagined someone eating, rubbing their fat belly, getting full, moaning, but still stuffing food in…

So, it turned out most people didn’t share this interest.

And I never said it out loud, never admitted to anyone besides myself, that I was attracted, with a level of exclusivity that scared me, to fat people. More specifically, fat people actively getting fatter.

My first boyfriend was thin. I was 15 and I wanted. I kissed him. I really tried to get into it.

But I couldn’t.

My college boyfriend was big, but not in the ways I wanted. He was physically imposing, well over 6 feet, broad shouldered. Handsome, sweet, funny. That helped. I nearly convinced myself that I was attracted to him. See, brain? He’s big. He makes me feel dainty and happy and nice.

It didn’t work.

I never wanted to have sex with him because I couldn’t get aroused around him.

My excuses of taking it slow, then of ‘headaches’ or of not being in the mood only went so far. So we went our separate ways after a year together, never going farther than kissing and fondling.

It was depressing and sad that I’d only ever gotten myself off when watching some fat person on youtube stuff their faces. And after getting off, I always feel worse.

It’s in these moments of self doubt, late at night, when my heart aches for some kind of intimacy, some kind of belonging, that I think about these things.

But maybe it’s not my interest in fat men that is the problem. Surely, if that were the case, I’d just find a fat guy to date.

So maybe it’s me that’s the problem.

“Cath!”

I whipped my head around, spotting Layla as she waved a hand to get my attention. She was standing with a couple of other people, none of whom I recognized as I approached.

I cleared my throat, “Hi.”

Layla reached out to hug me, but I leaned away and she dropped her arms. Her smile was pinched around the edges, making me feel even more like shit.

Layla knew not to do things like that, but she was always…pushing.

Layla recovered quickly.

“I’ve got to introduce you! Okay, this is John,” she gestured to a tall man with thin wire glasses, “and Isaac,” a broad-shouldered man with curly brown hair nodded towards me, an easy smile on his lips. I attempted to mirror the expression, but it felt forced.

“They work in marketing,” Layla prattled. “And this is Vienna, she’s a data specialist like us, but in a different department.”

Vienna, a short woman with very big hair greeted me.

“Everyone, this is Catherine!” Layla said, hovering over my shoulder.

“Nice to meet you all,” I said, still feeling off balance from the almost-hug and Layla’s watchful gaze.

“You as well,” big-shoulder guy, Isaac, said.

The thing about being an adult, with an adult job, is that you always feel about an inch from unraveling.

I hesitated around the edges of the end-of-quarter banquet, near the hand sanitizer dispenser.

It was annoying that every employee had to attend these. So many people crammed into a banquet hall, all for some mediocre mostaccioli and baked chicken to ‘celebrate’ the employees and boost morale.

And although Layla’s attention to me was misguided, I did appreciate that there was someone here who was interested in socializing with me.

“You should ask John out,” Layla said, appearing at my side. She was eating the olive out of her martini.

“No no,” I started to protest.

“Come on! You’ve got to get out sometime!”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Which one was that again?” I asked.

“Glasses.”

Thin and tall, I added mentally. I shrugged. I knew it would only end one way: disappointment. But as usual, I was hoping for a miracle, a miraculous change to occur in me. For me to feel something for someone else, even just for a moment.

The date could be worse. But it felt more like a friendly meetup. I glanced at John’s slim figure, his slender arms, his sharp jaw, and knew with a sinking feeling in my gut that I wouldn’t even want to kiss him.

“How do you like the city? Layla mentioned you’re from the south,” John asked after a sip of water.

“It’s good, busy. I miss Georgia sometimes, of course, but I am grateful to be away from the humidity,” I said, pleased when he laughed with me.

“Oh, I'm sure! I’m a native New Yorker, so it’s interesting to hear about other people’s hometowns. Back when I lived in Queens…”

At the end of the night, John walked me home. He leaned down, maybe to hug me, maybe to kiss me, but I pulled away.

There was a small frown tugging at his lips, but politeness seemed to keep him from saying anything.

“I had a great time, thank you for dinner,” I said, and went inside my building.

“And so, this Layla person, the only friend you’ve made from your work, is now dating the guy she set you up with?” my sister’s voice, thick with the sound of home, crackled through my phone speakers.

“Yup,” I said, trying not to get polish everywhere as I painted my toes.

“Wow. What happened to girl code?”

I sighed. “I didn’t like the guy. So I honestly couldn’t care less.”

My sister made a thoughtful noise.

“It’s been over a month since I went out with him. Once. One date. It’s not like I had some kind of claim on him.”

My sister Ciara, like most of my friends and family, thought I was too picky with men. If only they knew the half of it.

“When are you visiting again, Cath?”

“Not until Christmas,” I replied.

Ciara audibly sighed.

“You could visit me here, you know.”

She didn’t answer, but she didn't need to. It was expensive and she had the kids to worry about.

“How are the rugrats?” I asked when the silence had stretched a moment too long, and she went into depth about how Connor was doing with potty training and how Rachel was able to keep her head up on her own.

It seemed like everyone, even the kiddos, were doing more, were improving, changing. Bettering themselves. Everyone except me.

I recognized that this thought was unfair, but it didn’t stop me from having it.

Exactly three months after the last, there was another end-of-quarter banquet.

I dressed myself presentably, in a comfortable yet stylish sweater with black dress pants.

Layla waved me over to a table, where she and John were sitting side by side. Vienna, who I remembered from the last banquet, was there too, sitting by John. Next to her was a couple I didn't recognize but who Layla quickly introduced. Layla, an insufferable extrovert, was always making new friends. Or networking. I could never quite tell with her.

I took one of the two empty seats, sitting at Layla’s right.

They were talking about holiday plans, and so I chimed in that I was going to visit family in Georgia.

“How fun!” Vienna said.

“Probably won’t be a white Christmas,” John said with humor.

“I’m not built for snow anyhow. I hate the cold,” I said, gesturing to my tiny body.

A few people at the table laughed, but my attention was pulled away as the empty chair next to mine was pulled out.

I glanced up. Broad-shoulder guy, er, Isaac? Yes, Isaac, with the curly hair. But he looked… different.

He sat down heavily. I’d noticed at the last banquet that he was a large person to begin with, tall and wide. It had been difficult to tell in a suit, but he’d seemed stocky. Like someone who was quite muscular, but not cut or lean by any means.

But now…he had a belly. A real, honest-to-god, belly. It balanced out those crazy wide shoulders, pushing out from his suit jacket, and balling up in his lap as he pulled the chair up closer to the table.

I felt myself blushing and pinched my thigh.

Now is not the time.

“Snow is overrated if you ask me. It’s glorified cold, icy rain. Bleh,” Isaac said.

John made an indignant noise.

Isaac grinned at him.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year…” Vienna started singing when John and Isaac began debating the pros and cons of snow.

“Isaac,” somebody said from behind. Isaac turned in his chair, smiling that easy smile. “You been hitting the eggnog a little hard, pal?”

My eyes widened, and I deliberately looked into the candle flickering on the table’s centerpiece so that my eyes wouldn’t wander towards his midsection. Why would this guy say that? Wasn’t that… rude?

But Isaac only laughed. I heard something, a light patting that might’ve been Isaac tapping his belly for emphasis.

“Yeah, it’s my winter coat.”

I crossed my legs under the table.

Get a grip, Catherine.

We were served dinner, chicken in mushroom sauce and mashed potatoes, which I picked at, paying much more attention to the plate next to mine, which was cleared before anyone else's. It was all but licked clean.

That night, I couldn’t get Isaac out of my mind. As Isaac was someone who had only spoken about three words to me in my entire life, I had become quite easily infatuated.

Isaac was fatter now. And based on the way he had eaten tonight, it seemed likely that he would continue to do so.

Check and check.

I couldn’t help searching him up online.

I went through Layla’s friends list, and scrolled to the ‘I’s.

“Found him,” I muttered to myself, clicking his profile.

Isaac Friedmann

I scrolled through his profile photos, but the newest was over a year old, before he’d gained weight. Still, he looked nice, with sparkling eyes and a wide smile. I scrolled back, seeing younger versions of him. One photo from six years ago showed Isaac in a hockey jersey, fresh off the ice, stick in hand, grinning with some of his teammates.

“College hockey player? That’s impressive,” I murmured to myself. I ignored the twinge in my gut reminding me of the ‘ex-athlete who gets fat’ trope in weight gain fiction.

Isaac’s ‘about’ info was private, so I couldn’t check his relationship status. But really, what were the chances that he would even be interested in me anyway?

I didn’t request to be his friend, even though I sort of wanted to.

I spent the holidays back home. I had to dodge lots of questions about my love life, which was of course, nonexistent. Instead, I steered conversation back to safer topics, like my job.

“I basically crunch numbers for the company. It’s a little boring, but the pay is nice and it’s low stress. Good hours, and benefits.”

This explanation generally had my aunts cooing and congratulating me on my success.

I flew back to New York on the 29th, as I wanted to go to Times Square and see the ball drop. I’d done it the past two years since I’d lived in the city. It was crowded and cold, but somehow, my inner child lived for it.

I had plans to meet up with my friend Chris, also known ‘Moxie’ when he was in drag, and his partner Sid. Chris lived in my apartment building and we’d bonded over being the only tenants who do laundry at 5:00 am. For Chris, he usually hadn’t gone to bed yet, and I had typically just woken up. Between our incompatible sleep schedules, we barely saw each other outside of these strange twilight hours or weekend nights. We exchanged texts semi-regularly throughout the weekdays, which was about all I could look for in a friend anyway. It’s not like I needed 24/7 companionship.

I’d been tempted to tell Chris about my, um, tastes. He was very kink positive and not at all judgmental. But every time I considered it, I practically broke out in hives. It stressed me out so much that I eventually gave up on the idea. Chris was probably under the impression that I was ace, and I had never done much to dissuade him from this idea. Hell, maybe I was on the ace spectrum.

That might explain why the only thing that could get me going was fat bellies.

This is not the time to think about this.

I met up with Chris and Sid in the lobby and we walked to Times Square together.

I was freezing cold in a matter of seconds.

“Aw, poor Peach,” Sid said, rubbing my arm as we walked, which didn’t do much to quell my shivering. Peach was Sid’s nickname for me, one which I thought was endearing in a slightly annoying way.

“I have extra gloves if you want to double up,” Chris chimed in.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m wearing lots of layers,” I said. The wind chose that moment to blast frozen air directly onto my exposed face. “Fudging fudge!” I exclaimed.

Sid cackled while Chris groaned.

“Please just say fuck. Please,” he begged.

I wrinkled my nose. “Hmmm,” I pretended to consider it. “No.”

We argued over which swear words I was likely to say, and what disastrous scenarios might prompt me to break my ‘no-swearing’ streak, which I’d had for as long as I could remember.

Eventually, we nudged our way into the NYE crowd and found an area to stand. We weren’t near any of the stages, but that was alright. The main attraction was the ball, which could be seen from anywhere. None of us had much interest in the musical guests.

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” Sid said, gesturing to the pub down the block that was selling drinks in disposable cups. “Anyone want anything?”

“I’m alright,” I said.

“A beer?” Chris asked. Sid nodded, gave his partner a quick kiss, and headed off.

I had become acclimated to the harsh cold and so I wasn’t shivering too badly anymore. That, or my face had become completely numb.

“Your nose is so red,” Chris commented, booping me on the nose with a gloved finger.

“It’s charming,” I replied easily, earning a crooked smile from him. Chris had a way of soothing my mind. I couldn’t think of a single other person who I could joke with quite so easily.

As he readied to say something else, I was bumped into from behind. Chris caught me by the elbows so I wouldn’t fall.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry, shit,” a deep voice mumbled.

I turned, don’t worry about it, already on my lips but…

I saw shoulders, broad and thick. An open winter jacket, a sweater-covered belly filling the opening. Curly brown hair. Chubby red cheeks. It was Isaac!

I blinked.

Isaac blinked back.

“Oh, hey, um Catherine right?”

I felt myself blushing, but hoped that the general redness of my wind-numb face would cover it.

“Yeah, hi, um Isaac.”

Chris nudged me. “Oh, and this is my friend Chris,” I added.

“Nice to meet you,” Isaac said. His eyes darted between Chris and I. I felt keenly aware that Chris still had one hand on my arm.

I pulled away and gave Isaac what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Um, great to see you somewhere that isn't work-mandated.”

Wow, I am horrible at flirting, I thought to myself. But he laughed.

“Yeah, you too!” He glanced around. “I’d better get back to my friends, but it was great running into you.”

“You too!”

There was another awkward smile exchange, and then he was slipping through the crowd and out of sight.

“Um, who the hell was that?” Chris wheeled on me. His face was all-too knowing.

“Work acquaintance,” I said.

Sid slid back up then, took a quick look between Chris and I before saying, “What’d I miss?”

“Catherine just attempted to flirt. With another human being.”

Sid raised his eyebrows.

I pulled my hat down so it covered my ears better, not acknowledging that.

“Attempted? Was she successful?” Sid asked.

Chris eyed me and I felt horribly transparent.

“The guy seemed into it. He was all smiley.”

I frowned. Had he been? I couldn’t hardly remember the encounter except my own horrible embarrassment.

“Well, who wouldn’t be? That’s the power of the Peach right there.”

I laughed and felt a tad lighter.

When the ball dropped, I bit my lip and sighed, yearning for something unnamed, unknowable. For something.

“Great work, Catherine.”

I couldn’t help but preen a bit at the praise. My boss wasn’t harsh, but he also wasn’t overly friendly. He meant what he said, and he rarely gave compliments.

I let the high from that interaction carry me through the rest of the day. Petty work drama couldn’t touch me, not when I had done such ‘great work’ on my report.

“There’s cake in the lounge if you want. It’s for, em, Eric,” Shelby, one of the interns from NYU, attempting to remember, “… Eric from accounting,” she said as I walked past.

‘Eric from accounting’ rang absolutely zero bells in my brain, but I figured I’d grab a slice.

My workplace was a big office suite located inside of a high rise. The data specialists had a corner of cubicles to themselves which budded up against the accounting cubicles. The marketing and supply-chain people had offices to themselves with glass walls and great views of the skyline. Of course, executives had a whole floor to themselves.

It wasn’t like us numbers-folk were in some dark hovel or anything, but it nagged at me when I crossed into the marketing offices and noted the differences between our office areas.

The lounge had a few people mingling around. I grabbed a slice of cake; it was chocolate. Not as good as vanilla, but it would do.

“Cath, oh, tell them about that funny saying your mee-maw always says. Mee-maw, isn’t that such a cute way to say grandma?” Layla, always in the center of all social gatherings, asked as I went towards the beverage station. She was standing in a loose circle with John and Vienna.

I filled a paper cup with some burnt coffee and made my way over to her.

“Good ol’ mee-maw,” I said, playing up my accent. “She says lots of things. But, the one that always gets Layla is well, that just dills my pickle!”

Layla laughed, batting at my arm as she doubled over. I stepped out of the way to avoid the contact.

“Ah, such southern charm,” she said, giggling.

It was hard to tell with Layla whether she was laughing at you or with you.

Just then, Isaac waltzed through the lounge doorway.

“Heard there was cake,” he said, and instantly made his way over to the cake and cut himself a large slice.

It’d been a few weeks since I’d seen him on New Year’s Eve. In that time, he seemed to have gotten a little bit plumper. His dress shirt was tight across the push of his belly. The buttons were pulling a bit on either side, puckered. I tracked his movements as he forked up a big bite of cake and stuffed it in his mouth.

Isaac made an appreciative noise before stabbing another piece with his fork.

I felt a blush creeping up my neck.

I sensed rather than saw Isaac’s eyes flick over towards me. I instinctively glanced down at my own plate, not wanting to be caught staring.

“We still on for the gym tomorrow?” John asked. I looked up. John was staring with concern towards Isaac’s middle.

“Course,” Isaac said through a mouthful of cake.

“Are you going to do cardio with me this time?” John asked in a lighter tone.

Isaac scoffed. “You know I gave up cardio for lent.”

Layla tilted her head. “Lent doesn’t start until the end of February,” she pointed out.

“Eh, I’m not particularly religious,” Isaac said, as though that explained everything.

Vienna laughed.

I couldn't suppress my own smile. I felt Isaac glance at me, but he quickly looked away before I could catch his eye.

“Well, that was delicious. Have a good weekend everybody,” Isaac said, throwing his empty plate into the trash. He waved and left the room.

There was a lull in the conversation, seemingly until Layla had declared Isaac as far enough away from the room to be able to talk about him without risk of being overheard.

“He got a bit chubby, didn’t he?” Layla said, her voice laced with concern. I bit my lip and said nothing.

John scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, he carries it well,” Vienna chimed in.

I nodded subtly. I itched to come to Isaac’s defense, but the urge to stay silent was stronger.

“I’m not trying to nag him, but he’s been eating loads. It is a little concerning, but I guess… He’s an adult,” John fragmentally explained.

“Of course! I only just noticed,” Layla said placatingly.

“Excuse me,” I said before hastily leaving the lounge. God, why was this messing with my head so much?

Maybe it was because Isaac was practically the human incarnation of my every fantasy. He’s been eating loads John had said… Oh God, now I was picturing Isaac sitting around, gorging on takeout, eating his way out of that tight dress shirt, buttons popping and flying off as he continued stuffing his fat face…

What the hell?? Stop thinking about this at work.

I knew I was flushing profusely, so I made haste towards the women's restroom.

Once inside I checked my face in the mirror. My mascara was flaking a bit after the long day, but other than that, I looked alright. I took a few deep breaths, counting to 10 in my head.

I felt much better as I was leaving the bathroom.

Well, I thought I would, except when I swung the door open, it opened directly into someone.

“Fiddlesticks, I’m so sor-,” I began, pausing when I glanced up and saw who I’d hit.

“No, don’t worry about it, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Isaac laughed a bit. “Payback for New Years.”

That knocked a surprised giggle from my chest.

“Oh, you know I was meaning to apologize for running into you the other day. Well, not for running into you, but for like actually physically bumping you,” Isaac said, an embarrassed flush warming his cheeks. “I’ve noticed you don’t seem to like being touched.”

I laughed again, slightly nervously. He noticed that? Oh, now he probably thinks I’m neurotic. Which… probably wasn’t so far off.

“No, it wasn’t a big deal. The square was super packed, it happens.” I was pleased at how nonchalant I sounded.

Isaac nodded. “And sorry for you know, interrupting you when you were on a date or whatever–”

“What?” I blurted, entirely lost.

Isaac glanced at me.

“You were with that um guy? He had his arms on you? I thought…”

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. I doubled over, cackling.

“No, no.” I sobered when I saw his embarrassed expression. “That, that was my friend Chris.” I said. Then after a beat, “Chris is gay.”

Isaac’s eyes widened and then he was laughing too. He looked relieved in some way, but I wasn’t sure.

“Ah, well. I’m an idiot, sorry about that. I just assumed.”

“No biggie,” I said, still smiling.

Isaac stared at his feet, kicking at the carpet with his heels.

“So since you’re not dating your gay friend, what are you doing Saturday?” I felt my eyebrows raise in shock. He misinterpreted my expression. “I mean, tell me to fuck off if you don’t want to go, no hard feelings. But I would like to take you out sometime. You know, to see you on purpose instead of randomly bumping into each other.” He smiled lopsidedly.

For some reason, I heard Chris’ voice in my head, urging me to say yes, you idiot!

“Yeah, that sounds great actually.”

It wasn’t until much later that night that I freaked out about it.

Oh, what have I gotten myself into?

This date was lightyears away from my awkward date with John. For one, I had butterflies. Actual butterflies, not the nervous sour awful kind, but the good kind, the kind that made your stomach feel like pop rocks.

For two, Isaac was sitting across from me in the tiny booth of a Jewish deli, which made him look somehow even bigger. Apparently this was his favorite spot, but I’d never been.

I closed my menu. “What should I get?”

Isaac eyed me, tilted his head, as though trying to read what I might like off of my face alone.

“Hot pastrami,” he decided.

“Okay,” I agreed easily.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get a few things for us to share too. And if you don’t like it, I’ll happily eat your leftovers.”

My head swam with dirty thoughts at that, but luckily the waiter stopped by just then and saved me from having to reply.

“All decided?”

“Yeah, she’ll have the hot pastrami, and I’ll have the stuffed cabbage, a hushpuppy, and fried kreplach.”

Isaac gave a stunning smile and handed over our menus. I realized Isaac was someone who was self-assured, content. It was inspiring to me though I would be lying if I said I wasn’t also envious of these attributes.

Still, I couldn’t help but catch some of his infectious good mood and smile back.

“What in the world is a hushpuppy doing on the menu of a Jewish deli?” I asked.

“Right! I almost forgot you’re a southerner. Oh boy, you’re gonna love this, it’s a kosher hot dog, wrapped in mashed potatoes and baked until it gets all golden brown.” He leaned back and made a sound somewhere between a moan of please and ‘yum’.

“Oh my God,” I laughed. His stomach was looking quite plump from this angle.

I took a fortifying sip of iced water.

There was a tiny bit of awkward silence; my lack of experience on dates was making my arms itch.

“I’m wondering how to ask ‘tell me about yourself?’ without actually asking that,” Isaac said in faux seriousness. His eyes were alight with humor.

“Hmmm, that is a tricky one. You could always go with the classics. What do you do in your free time? Favorite color? Dog or cat person?” I trailed off, unable to think of any others. Isaac was laughing in earnest now though, so I suppose I’d done enough.

“Well, I like reading, watching movies, being with family, you know. All that wholesome stuff.” Isaac leaned forward and I was again taken aback by how stunning his smile was. “Favorite color… that’s tough. Maybe red? I maintain the right to change that answer anytime though,” he said, pointing at me.

“I’ll allow it,” I replied.

“And I’m a dog person. Now you go.”

I looked up, thinking. “I like reading, movies are good too. When I’m bored, I like going outside, walking, that sort of thing. Um, my favorite color’s got to be magenta. And I like cats and dogs equally.”

“Ah, now we’ve covered all the bases, haven’t we?” Isaac teased.

“Oh, definitely.”

Isaac glanced past me, and I turned to see our waiter heading our way.

“Oh, finally. I’m starving,” Isaac whispered conspiratorially.

My meal was placed in front of me, and I was shocked at how much food was here.

An open-faced sandwich, pilled high and surrounded by french fries.

But Isaac’s was even more full, plus the extras he’d ordered on top of his meal. Our table was crammed with plates of food.

We chatted a bit while we ate, but less so. Mostly because Isaac’s mouth was constantly filled.

I tapped out after eating about half of my food, but Isaac insisted I try a bit of stuffed cabbage, the weird potato hotdog, and the kreplach (which was actually very delicious).

I was rambling about the leaky sink in my apartment, which my landlord was resolutely ignoring, when Isaac finished the last of his food.

“You want mine?” I asked, pushing my plate towards him.

Isaac groaned, but nodded. He looked like he wanted to lay down, but he sat forward and stuffed bite after bite of my sandwich into his mouth until it was gone.

I pinched my thigh so hard it was likely to bruise, but it didn’t help.

I wanted to peel off the tight sweater, unbutton those slacks, feel that big bloated belly under my fingertips.

But, well. That was weird. Even if your date glutted himself out in front of you, you didn't have any right to feel them up. Right?

The waiter came by and picked up our empty plates, and Isaac ordered a coffee. He was probably very full, I thought to myself. Maybe he needed to digest a bit before he got up.

“Ahhh,” Isaac sighed into his coffee. “You know, I used to be a college athlete. Now I feel like I just ran a mile when all I did was stuff my face.”

He was probably going for self-depricating.

But, God, if that didn’t do something to me.

I felt my face go hot. I crossed my legs, but that made it worse.

“Oh, what’d you play?” I asked, as though I didn’t already know from my cyberstalking.

“Hockey,” he said. “Did you ever play any sports?”

I shook my head. “I wasn’t very interested in extracurriculars,” I said.

Isaac drained the last of his coffee and twisted his wrist to check his watch.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to keep you so late,” he said, startled.

“It’s no problem. I’m glad to be here,” I said. He met my eyes and smiled. I melted a little.

Isaac paid the bill even though I offered to split it.

“You can get it next time,” he’d promised, and that made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

We walked back towards my building. It was chilly, and so my hands were in my coat pockets. That was probably safer. If my hands were free I’d probably try to do something stupid like touch him.

All too soon, we were approaching the front steps.

“Thank you for dinner! I had a really great time,” I said. It was my usual line, but this time I meant it very sincerely.

“Catherine, I hope this isn’t too forward, but I’d really like to see you again.”

My breath caught.

“I’d like that too,” I agreed.

Isaac took a deliberate step closer to me.

“Are you going to kiss me?” I squeaked, voice too breathy, too quiet in the air between us.

He squinted at me. Licked his lips.

“Do you want me to?” he asked.

I nodded, shivering.

Isaac seemed to steel himself. His hands reached out to cup my face, not touching, but hovering just a bit away from my jaw. “Can I touch you?”

I leaned towards his hands. “Yes,” I whispered.

Isaac’s hand cupped my face, reeling me in. His other hand made its way to the small of my back, a comforting weight. The places where his hands were touching me felt electric. I slowly wound my arms around his neck.

He leaned in so incredibly slowly that I was nearly vibrating with want by the time our lips collided.

It was soft, hesitant, at first. Then I gave into it, letting myself lean against him. His belly pushed into my abdomen, and it was more satisfying than my fantasies had ever led me to believe. His head tilted, and our mouths slid together more securely.

I made a needy noise in the back of my throat and he held me tighter.

For once in my life, my mind and body were attuned as one, reacting the same. This passion, this longing, it was mirrored in the way Isaac held onto me, as though I was something precious. As though he didn’t want to let me go.

Sometimes I have these thoughts that make no sense. I know they’re not logical, that they’re well… crazy. But I still have them.

I remember one time I spiraled really bad. My brain convinced me that no one even knew me. No one had ever known me, really. That no one cared about my existence. If I died, it wouldn’t matter. Nothing mattered. That I was invisible and unwanted and I had to text my sister Ciara to make it stop.

ME: You care about me right?

She’d texted back after a few minutes.

CIARA: Of course

And I didn’t believe her. But I put on a youtube video and after a few hours of mindless media consumption I remembered that my family loved me.

I was trying really hard to keep Isaac from seeing me spiral.

Usually when I had those weird trains of thought it took time to dig myself out. For rational thought to finally wrestle its way back into my mind.

But I’d been spending a lot of time with Isaac. And that meant the chances of revealing my fully unhinged self to him increased.

I know about probabilities okay, I’m a data specialist.

But, after our fantastic first date, Isaac and I started seeing each other with regularity. We would eat lunch together, sometimes in the staff lounge, but sometimes if we had time, we’d walk to a bodega and get a sub or something.

And a few times a week we would make plans to see each other after work. We texted in between dates, or during the work day. I spied my contact in his phone and noticed there was a heart emoji next to my name.

It was quickly becoming ‘dating’ rather than ‘seeing each other’. I wanted to ask about being in an exclusive relationship, but I’d yet to get the nerve.

But being with Isaac was just great. It really was. The more I learned about him, the more I liked him.

I really liked him.

And I noticed, because I spent so much time with him now, that Isaac seemed to be intentionally getting fat.

There were a few signs which led me to this conclusion:

Isaac would push himself to eat as much as he could at every meal even if he was full, groaning and subtly rubbing the sides of his gut, he’d still eat more.

Isaac bought a whole new set of clothes, which was only practical. BUT! But he bought them… big. That’s right, they were baggy on him. Which… why would someone do that if they weren’t expecting to keep getting bigger?

Isaac was probably onto me and my weird fetishes and he almost seemed to be leaning into it. Because he would say things, provocatively, but still subtle enough that it wasn’t super obvious, about his weight gain.

I remember one time we’d gotten ice cream and were walking around central park. Isaac had eaten a huge meatball sub for lunch and I could tell he was pretty stuffed. But he still suggested ice cream with a glint in his eye. And he tracked my reaction closely, I could feel the heat on my cheeks, I’m sure my pupils were dilating a little. And then he’d pushed his stomach out further, ‘stretching his back’ and a sliver of his belly peaked out from beneath his shirt.

“Oh, I guess I probably didn’t need that ice cream,” he said, tugging his shirt down and smoothing a hand over his rounded belly. It was a ball, defying gravity and sticking straight out. The rest of him was starting to fill out a bit more as well, but his belly was by far the most obvious feature.

I stammered, mind going blank until I eventually mumbled something about ice cream being delicious.

Isaac smiled knowingly and took my hand. He put it on his side, where his puffy love handle met his back in a roll. It wasn’t inherently weird, couples touched each other’s sides casually. But.

But Isaac watched me so closely and I let my hand do what it wanted, to sink into that flabby flesh.

And Isaac sort of, smirked? Not condescendingly. More… secretly pleased.

And after that it became normal for Isaac to initiate touching around his midsection.

Because of who I am as a person, I wasn’t ever the one initiating these touches, because I was too nervous. But Isaac seemed to like it when my hands were on him. And I liked it to.

And so it became normal for Isaac to put my hands on his gut after a big meal and I’d lightly run my hands along his bloated belly, taught after a binge.

But what we didn’t do was talk about it.

Until I walked into what seemed like a fairly tense conversation.

“Why am I always the bad guy when I’m trying to look out for you?” John hissed, a whisper that was scathing in its intensity.

I stopped short of coming into the doorway of Isaac’s office, shocked.

“You’re not the bad guy, I’m just sick of your nagging. I don’t need it and I don’t want it.” Isaac’s reply was calmer, but still intense.

“Jesus christ.” John sounded like he’d begun pacing, letting out exasperated sounds as he did so.

“You’re my oldest friend. You should support me, fat or thin,” Isaac said quietly, and his voice sounded so… sad.

I knew I shouldn’t be eavesdropping but it felt too dangerous to try and back away now that they’d gotten so quiet.

John let out a wounded noise. “It’s not that I’m upset you’re fat. I love you, no matter what you look like. But you’re not letting me help you get this weight under control. And that hurts.” It sounded like a tired argument, like John had been trying it for some time now to no avail.

“I’m gonna be late for Catherine,” Isaac said coldly, a clear dismissal.

I panicked, and slowly inched backwards, trying to act like I’d just rounded the corner.

Isaac walked out of his office right as I approached, and I forced a casual smile onto my face.

“Hey! So, I was thinking we could try this Indian place? I read they have really good deals on Thursdays,” Isaac said, perfectly normal. As though nothing happened.

“Sounds great,” I said.

Later, after Isaac had eaten his fill of butter chicken and naan, we went back to my apartment.

It wasn’t like that. We hadn’t been doing anything more than kissing. And Isaac seemed good with that. He hadn’t asked, let alone pressured me like I’d expected he would after a few dates. I wondered if I should feel mad that he hadn’t. Maybe he didn’t find me attractive?

But, sometimes when we hugged, I could, ah, feel how attracted he was to me. So that probably wasn’t it.

I put on an action movie and we snuggled close. He carefully draped my arm across his belly, where it puffed out under his chest. I squeezed in closer and he laughed softly over my head.

The movie was terrible, but in a really awesome way. The protagonist had just strutted away from a collapsing building as it blew up behind him when Isaac spoke.

“Would you judge me if I said I was hungry again?”

I wet my lips, feeling overwhelmed.

“No,” I said. That seemed like a safe answer. Then I realized I was being a bad host. “Would you like something? I have some girl scout cookies, or if you want something more I have frozen pizza rolls?”

I could hear my mee-maw’s voice in my head tutting at me for not having anything freshly baked to offer my guest.

“I could go for both, if that’s okay.”

I squeezed Isaac tighter and then let go to get his cookies and pizza rolls. My face and neck were probably visibly red from arousal and embarrassment. I felt like a kid who’d just been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. But I wasn’t. I was just putting pizza rolls into my air fryer and getting cookies out of my cupboard.

I grabbed a can of sprite out of my fridge, because he probably wanted something to drink. And well. Soda had bubbles. It’d make Isaac a little more bloated… I need professional help.

“Samoas! My favorite! I’ll totally buy you a new box, don’t worry.” Isaac quickly opened the box and shoved a cookie into his mouth.

I smiled, didn’t trust my voice to say anything, and turned back towards the movie. I snuggled in close, but didn’t wrap myself around Isaac like I’d been doing earlier so his hands were free to eat.

It was strange that I loved touching Isaac when normally contact with other human beings made me feel gross. I’d yet to fully understand that.

But anyways, Isaac stuffed his face with cookies, pausing to drink his soda and letting out little burps as he did so. He’d always mutter, “Excuse me,” when he did. I shifted, feeling something stir inside me. I wanted so much it was making me antsy.

Then the pizza rolls were done, so I put them on a plate and came back.

I saw the empty cookie box and smiled to myself.

Isaac was looking very bloated. His big ol’ gut was puffed out, and it drooped a little into his lap. He still had those crazy big shoulders, but they looked proportional. His arms had softened up, a little flabby. I rested my head on one and sighed. I could hear, feel, and see Isaac steadily eating his way through the pizza rolls. He was groaning a little. Clearly full, but desperate for a little more.

When he finished, he tried to reach over and put the plate down on the coffee table, but he couldn’t quite get there with his big bloated belly so stuffed and tender, so he gave up and set it down next to him on the couch.

“God, thanks. No wonder I’m getting so fat. Been eating like a damn fiend lately.”

My face was most definitely beet red, so I just nuzzled under his arm and put myself back into my old position. Isaac let himself be maneuvered until I was comfortable.

“I’m…” Isaac started but then trailed off. The movie was ending, the protagonist kissing some sexy twenty-something as a pop rock song came on.

“Mmm what?” I asked drowsily. He was so warm and soft. His tummy was gurgling, trying to digest.

“I’m not reading into things am I?” Isaac paused and I waited for him to continue. “You like this too?” He patted the side of his belly.

I leaned away from him to look at his face. It was pink, but he held my gaze unflinchingly.

I took a breath. “No, you’re not reading into things.”

Isaac broke out into his signature grin.

“Thank fuck,” he said vehemently. I smiled back, feeling relief and simultaneously immense panic.

“So, you- you are gaining weight on purpose?” I asked hesitantly.

“Er, yeah.” Isaac scratched at his neck. “It’s like. Well. We should probably just be honest, huh?”

He looked nervous, I realized. I’d never seen him like that.

“Yeah. Honest.”

He nodded. “So, I’ve always wanted to get fat. I mean, I was a little chubby as a kid, but then I got into sports so I kind of had to stay in shape. But now that I can afford to, you know, buy tons of food and new clothes…” He laughed sheepishly. “I figured why not? So I started like, doing stuffings and. Yeah. I like it.” Isaac’s face was a little pink but he was beaming.

I didn’t quite know what to say.

Isaac nudged me. “What about you? Is that why you didn’t go on a second date with John? Because he’s a toothpick?”

His words had some humor to them but I could sense genuine curiosity underneath.

“Yeah, I mean. I wasn’t, um, attracted to him. Or, really. Anybody. Until you.”

It felt like a huge admission. Isaac rubbed my back and I felt better.

“So, I guess we should discuss, like what things we’re into? And what we aren’t.”

That seemed very sensible so I nodded.

“For me,” Isaac said. “I want to keep gaining. I don’t have a goal weight or anything right now, but I know I’m not fat enough yet.” He smacked his belly for emphasis. I tracked the movement, felt my face heat. He watched me, and it was like some invisible wall was down and I knew that he knew I was hot all over at the sight. “But I’m into stuffing, obviously. I would definitely be down for you to stuff me, if that’s something you’d be into.”

“I-I would definitely be into that,” my mouth said without my consent. But Isaac thought my reaction was funny, or cute. He was smiling at me indulgently.

“Alright. So you like watching me eat, you’d be interested in helping me eat… What else?”

I took a second to think.

“I think maybe like, trying on old clothes? Keeping rough track of your weight. Like, maybe occasionally taking measurements, but mainly just having you weigh yourself sometimes to see your progress…” I realized as I started speaking that these desires had been brimming under the surface for such a long time. I’d never been able to imagine I’d ever get to do any of them though.

“Alright, that’s very doable. Any hard limits?” Isaac asked.

“I don’t want to be, you know, mean to you. I know some people are into degradation but, um. No, I won’t do that.”

Isaac nodded. “Not a problem. I think it’s the same for me. I want to be carefree, let my gluttony run wild.”

“You seem to be doing well at that so far,” I said and patted the biggest part of his belly.

He laughed and hugged me close to him.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am that you like me like this,” he whispered, a little serious.

I melted into his embrace. “Me too.”

CHIRS: how’s it going with ur boytoy ;)

ME: good!

ME: I think we’re very compatible.

CHRIS: when do i get to properly meet this man

ME: Idk i'll plan something soon and let you know

We planned to have a big stuffing day on the weekend. Isaac said he wanted to test his capacity at eating all day. And I suggested we keep track of the calories so we’d know how much to aim for next time.

I was freakishly excited about it.

I got a ton of calorie-rich groceries delivered – store made cakes, frozen pizzas, premade dumplings, and tons of snack foods. And we planned to order takeout periodically depending on Isaac’s cravings.

I had a journal ready where I was going to jot down everything Isaac would be able to eat that day. Maybe it was a little Type A of me, but hey, for once my neurotic brain was working with me.

Isaac picked up a dozen donuts on his way to my apartment that morning, and by the time he arrived on my doorstep, he’d already eaten two.

“Sorry,” he’d said but I shushed him.

“You’re a growing boy.” I watched Isaac’s eyes glaze over a little. I quickly ushered him to the couch where he’d spend the majority of the day.

Now, the real fun could begin!

The day was off to a wonderful start. I was, possibly for the first time, truly letting myself look at Isaac the way I wanted to.

Lustily, adoringly.

He’d always had an imposing figure, with his height and abnormally wide shoulders. He was naturally big. And of course his new weight was extenuating these features quite nicely. His belly was the most obviously pudgey area, but I noticed that his jaw was softening and his arms, while still looking well-muscled where they poked out of his t-shirt, were looking softer as well. Likewise his chest had lost definition, but not mass. I wanted to straddle his lap and let my hands sink into those soft mounds above his belly, really feel how fluffy they were getting.

I felt surprised at my own reaction, how bad my body wanted. God, Isaac made me lose my head a little.

Isaac got comfortable and proceeded to eat half of the dozen donuts, sipping on some whole milk to wash them down, before he took a short break.

We were watching some legal drama on TV and I rubbed his belly a little, which was jigglier than usual. Probably because it was the morning and he hadn’t eaten enough for it to be taut and full. My hand looked comically small in comparison to his big tummy.

After a while Isaac went back to the donuts and somehow finished another three in quick succession. The last three were more of a chore. He was pretty full and the donuts were dense.

“Just a little more,” I said, and pushed bites past his lips.

Isaac groaned, but dutifully ate bite after bite until they were all gone.

We kissed for a while after that, and he tasted like donuts. His hands were latched around my waist. It made me feel unreasonably hot when I realized how big his hands were on my sides; his fingertips were nearly touching where they curved around my ribs.

But after about a half an hour Isaac said he was no longer completely full and so I got him some chips and salsa.

“Hmm, this is really good,” Isaac said between bites.

“Let me try one,” I said. It was pretty good. Salty chips and sweet salsa that had a slight kick once you swallowed.

I got up and grabbed my notebook.

12 donuts

Half a bag of tortilla chips & salsa

“It feels a bit like you’re studying me for science when you write like that.”

I glanced up, blushing.

“Sorry,” I said, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear.

“I don’t mind being a science project. At least, not when you’re doing it,” Isaac said with a shrug.

I felt warm and fuzzy inside.

By now his belly was filling up, not really a true bloat just yet, but getting there. I put a frozen pizza in the oven.

“Seemed like this would be easier,” Isaac said, leaning as far back as he could. His belly was pushed out and he rubbed the sides of it consolingly. “I feel like I eat a ton normally, but having so much so early in the day is making me feel like a total blimp.”

I hummed and made my way behind the couch, put my hands on his shoulders and started gently massaging them.

He sighed in contentment.

The oven dinged and I hopped up to get the pizza out.

“You don’t have to eat it all now,” I said, handing Isaac a big plate filled with pizza.

Isaac groaned but started eating dutifully.

“Yeah I do,” he said between bites. “Won’t taste as good reheated.”

I laughed.

I watched, transfixed, as Isaac shoved slice after slice into his mouth. His belly bloated bigger and bigger.

Isaac paused to drink some water. “Salty,” he muttered.

“Let me,” I said as I reached to unbutton his jeans. He looked relieved as I pulled the zipper down and his belly was able to spill forward a little. It wasn’t big enough to really hang down, but Isaac spread his legs anyway. Gave himself a bit more room.

Isaac rubbed the red line where his jeans had been cutting into his belly a little, and then went back to eating.

He couldn’t possibly be hungry at all. In fact, he’d looked like he was getting to a point of overfullness where he looked a little queasy.

“Fuck me,” Isaac groaned when he picked up the final slice.

I ran a soothing hand over the dome of his belly.

He finished the slice.

Isaac fell asleep when I went to wash some of the dishes. He looked so cute with his shirt pulled up to his belly button, jeans open, and head tilted back against the couch.

I felt a fluttery feeling in my chest and I knew I was in trouble.

I made myself a sandwich and cleaned up a bit, trying not to be a creep and just watch Isaac sleep. But I did glance over often. He was just so cute.

Isaac woke up around 3 and I put out some snacks, trail mix and pretzels, which Isaac grazed on a little.

For dinner, I ordered chinese.

Isaac got crab rangoons, kung pao chicken, and lo mein. I got garlic chicken.

“God, I’m still stuffed. Haven’t been hungry since 9 this morning,” Isaac groaned. Still, he loaded up his plate and sat back.

“You’re doing so well,” I said supportively. “Eating a lot at once probably takes some practice. You know? Just like anything else.”

Isaac eyed me. “You’re saying we should do this more often? For training, of course?”

I blushed but nodded at him.

“Good with me,” Isaac said.

He slowed down by the time his first entree was gone. He’d eaten about half of the crab rangoons.

I was finished with my portion, had put the rest in the fridge for my lunch tomorrow.

I let myself do what I wanted to do all day and swung my leg over him, got onto his lap.

Isaac seemed surprised but not at all bothered to have me in his lap.

“Let me,” I said, taking the plate from him. I filled the fork and lifted it to his lips.

“Mmm,” he mumbled into the bite. He relaxed further, let me keep putting food into his mouth until he groaned for a break. I put the plate aside, felt his bloated belly. It was thick with all of the food he’d eaten. Puffed out and stiff under my fingers. I was gentle as I ran my hands along his stomach.

He burped into his fist a few times, which I think gave him a bit more room.

“I can take more now,” he said.

I fed him bite after bite until it was gone, until he’d eaten everything. I got up to put the dishes in the sink. When I came back, Isaac was huffing and groaning.

“Oh god,” he moaned, holding onto his belly like his hands were the only things keeping it from splitting open.

I bit my lip, felt my insides heat at the sight.

“I’m never getting up again,” he whined. “I think I’m going to live on your sofa forever. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I really don’t mind,” I said, voice like honey. He looked up at me, blushing beet red.

Eventually Isaac wanted to get vertical, and I helped him up and into my bathroom so he could take a shower.

I used that time to update my notes.

12 donuts, 290 cal each = 3,480 total calories

Half bag of tortilla chips = 980 calories

Two cups of salsa = 134 calories

Frozen pizza = 2,269 calories

About a cup of pretzels = ~300 calories

About two cups of trail mix = 1,386 calories

Crab rangoons = 732 calories

Kung pao chicken = 781 calories

Lo mein = 897 calories

Total =10,959

“Holy cannoli,” I murmured to myself.

Isaac walked in shortly after, his hair was wet and he’d put on some comfy sweatpants.

“You ate almost 11,000 calories today,” I said without preamble.

Isaac sighed, rubbed his big belly.

“Yeah, feels like it. Do you mind if I stay over?”

I’d offered when we had planned this. But it was still nice to be asked, to double check that it was alright.

“Of course.” He smiled a little. “Just, just for sleeping,” I clarified. I was suddenly very embarrassed.

But all Isaac said was, “Good with me.”

That night, when Isaac was completely passed out in a food coma in my bed, I laid wide awake. Once Isaac had fallen asleep, it was like I was alone. Even though he was a few inches from me, I felt totally alone.

I had been so happy and present in my body while we’d been doing it, when I’d been watching Isaac eat and feeding him myself. But.

But now I felt like a black hole had opened up inside my chest.

I found myself questioning this whole thing. Is this ethical? Feeding someone? Making them fatter? Even if they want it, there was probably more to it. Was it objectively bad? It didn’t feel like it should be bad but…

I scrolled through my phone, which ended up being a horrible idea. Because I came across some stupid click-bait article about how some young healthy guy had dropped dead after sitting still for too long. A blood clot went to his lungs after a 3 day bender of playing video games and not moving.

And that was the end of that. I threw my phone onto my side table and sat up. I paced.

Didn’t want to wake Isaac.

But I also really wanted to wake up Isaac. Because what if he had a blood clot? What if him sitting on my couch all day, and then laying down on my bed all night, was going to kill him?

I knew I was being crazy, but I was actually about two seconds from losing it, and so I woke Isaac up.

I shook his shoulder.

“Mm?” Isaac mumbled, stirring a bit.

When his eyes opened I was entirely mortified.

What was I supposed to say? I’ve been having this irrational fear that if you don't stand up and walk around for a bit you’re going to die.

No. No, I couldn’t. But now he was looking at me with concern, his brows pulling together in concern.

“I,” I began but nothing else was forthcoming.

“What’s wrong? Catherine?”

My ears were buzzing.

“Um,” I said. And promptly started tearing up.

“Shit, c’mere,” Isaac said, pulling me into his arms.

I allowed this for a moment, because being against his soft body felt nice, but the anxieties were still there, brimming under my skin.

“No,” I said, pulling away. “C-can you, yeah come,” I said, disjointedly, but Isaac allowed himself to be pulled to his feet by me.

“Okay, what are we doing?” Isaac asked. I intertwined our arms and started dragging Isaac towards the bedroom door. He was being a remarkably good sport about all this, I noticed. If someone had woken me out of a dead sleep, started crying on me, and then 30 seconds later was tugging me around their apartment, I would probably be livid.

“Walk with me,” I said instead of actually answering. I led him around the perimeter of the living room, like it was a track.

“So, is there a reason I’m walking laps instead of sleeping right now?” Isaac asked. There was a lightness to his tone, but it couldn’t completely disguise his worry.

Seeing him, up and about, acting fine, made me absolutely mortified at my overreaction. But it was also so relieving. See, brain? He’s fine.

“I, well. I get like this sometimes,” I started. My palms were sweaty. I wiped them on my pajama pants. “Like, I have stupid thoughts and I don’t know how to shut them up. So, um, we’re walking so I can prove to myself that my brain is actually wrong and you’re fine.”

It was more than I meant to say, but Isaac hummed, kept walking with me. He seemed to be letting my words marinate.

“Did your brain convince you that I was in fact, not fine?” Isaac asked after a moment.

I shrugged helplessly. “Yeah.”

I saw Isaac nod in my periphery. “And what made your brain think that?”

It was a fair question. Isaac was taking this pretty well, all things considered. I mean, if he dumped me after this, I would understand. But for now, he was still walking with me. Still had my arm in his.

“It’s, you were sitting all day. And, well. I don’t want you to get a blood clot.” I mumbled, getting quieter towards the end of my sentence.

“I see,” Isaac said. “So next time I should get up and walk a bit when we’re doing stuffings. Do you think that’ll help ease your worries?”

I stopped walking and Isaac did too. I looked up at him. I was sure my face was red but I didn't really care.

“You still want to do this again?” I whispered.

Isaac smiled. “Course. But I would like to make sure you don’t get so worried next time.” He ran his hands down the sides of my arms reverently.

I felt my eyes water, with exhaustion or emotion, I wasn’t sure. I didn’t trust my voice, so I just leaned in to hug him.

“Okay. Do you feel better? Think you can get some sleep now?” Isaac asked, rubbing my back.

I nodded into his chest.

He ushered me back into bed, pulled the covers over me, pulled me into his arms.

“You still like me, even though I’m sort of crazy?” I asked in the dark. It was easier when I wasn’t able to see his face.

Isaac exhaled a soft laugh.

“You’re not crazy.” I huffed in disbelief and he amended, “Not actually crazy. An understandable sort of crazy. And why would that make not like you? Have you seen you?” Isaac tsked and I couldn’t help but grin. It wasn’t like I didn’t know Isaac was attracted to me, but it still left me a little breathless to hear him mention it.

“I guess that’s understandable,” I huffed.

I felt Isaac kiss my forehead.

“Go to sleep.”

So I did.

Isaac had told me in college he’d been about 170 lbs. He’d gotten a little fluffier over the years, putting his best estimate at being around 190 when he’d been first introduced to me. But since then, he’d started gaining on purpose, putting on almost 40 pounds from October to December. I recalled how noticeable that gain was, how it seemed like so much difference in such a small amount of time. It had been evident in his big belly, how it rounded out in front of him. But still, at 6’3, 227 lbs wasn’t all that much. He’d just looked beefy. A sort of imposing figure softened with a pudgy middle.

But that wasn’t the case any longer. Isaac had graduated from dad bod firmly into chubby territory. By March, Isaac was sitting at a solid 269. And boy did it show.

Ever since my mortifying spiral, Isaac had been so insanely accommodating of my illogical worries, it made me feel simultaneously like crap and also feel so amazingly warm. And he’d talked me down from a few freakouts since then. Mostly it had to do with me thinking that Isaac was going to get sick and die (he did neither). And Isaac reassured me by getting a checkup (he had a clean bill of health) and eating lots of vegetables (because I remembered scurvy existed).

We still hadn’t had sex.

But at this point, I was waiting for Isaac to bring it up. It felt like I’d let it go too long without saying anything and now it would be awkward to bring it up…

Still, I had never even thought that I could find someone who would like me once they got to know me. Or more accurately, that I would be able to feel attraction for someone who felt the same about me. And so really, sex with Isaac was as terrifying as it was exciting to think about. I would be alright if we held off a little longer.

“And then Isaac made me watch this movie with him, oh gosh, it’s so funny, I can’t even remember the name of it, but you’d love it. I’ll ask him later and text you the title.” I was rambling about Isaac. Had been for the last 10 minutes, I knew, but as I was folding my laundry before 6 in the morning, I was too tired to care.

“So I take it you and Isaac are doing pretty well?” Chris asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” I hummed rather dreamily. “We’re exclusive now, did I tell you that?”

“Um, no you certainly did not!” Chris gave me his best disappointed dad look.

I laughed. “Well, we are. An item that is. I should be like, carving our initials into a tree at this point.”

Chris barked a laugh. “You really like him don’t you?” Chris teased, but his gaze was far too knowing for comfort. I don’t know what my face did, but it only spurred Chris on. “Oh my god, you’re falling in loveeee.” He sang, clutching boxer briefs to his chest dramatically. At least they were fresh out of the dryer.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, but I couldn't keep a grin off my face.

“I need to meet this guy. Like, meet him as your partner. Because, I know I met him. But. Really, it’s gone on long enough, I need to give him the shovel talk. You should take him out this weekend, I have a gig at Celia’s.”

It was tempting, if only because Chris, or Moxie, as was his stage name, was a really good performer. And I sort of did want Isaac to meet my friends. Who all happened to be gay in some way. Huh, I wonder if that factored into my ability to connect with other people somehow. I was weird as heck, a girl whose sexuality was basically ‘bellies’. But well, the LGBT+ community had always been a kind of haven for whomever society deemed to be outcasts or weirdos…

“Yeah, I’ll ask him today,” I said, and Chris squealed in delight. He was way too chipper for 5:47 am if you asked me. But, he also hadn’t gone to bed yet.

“Ask him,” Chris said, giving me a warning finger pointed my way. He stuffed all his clothes into his basket without folding them. Ugh, such a guy.

After almost 3 months of dating, Isaac and I attended our first work banquet together. You know, as a couple.

“Does this tie make me look like an asshole?” Isaac asked.

I watched as Isaac fiddled with his collar in my bathroom mirror. It was a bit tight where his neck was getting thicker, a double chin imminent. I focused my attention on the tie. It had four leaf clovers on it.

“I think it’s fun,” I said. I was straightening my hair, trying to get my hair to lay flat, but it wasn’t going as well as planned. I probably needed an actual silk press, but who had time for that?

“Well, if Catherine thinks it’s fun, it must be,” Isaac said.

I shoved Isaac’s chest playfully. My hand sunk a little bit into his plushy flesh and I bit my lip.

“Almost ready?” he asked. Isaac’s eyes were dark, and his arm wound around my waist. I nodded, not trusting my voice.

We arrived at the banquet on time.

The banquet was a lot more fun with Isaac at my side. I never realized how isolated I had made myself at these events. I thought it was because I didn't want to make small talk, but I don’t think that was true. I just didn’t feel comfortable. But with Isaac there, it was easy. He knew everybody. Everyone seemed to like him. And by proxy, they liked me because I’m Isaac’s girlfriend. As the night went on, I talked more, opening up and chatting with new people. I hardly talked to Layla at all, and I honestly didn't miss it.

Dinner was another mediocre affair, roasted potatoes and a small filet of salmon. But Isaac had hit the appetizer tables pretty hard before, so I figured it would do.

“God, this belt is killing me,” Isaac whispered to me once his plate was clear. I glanced at his belt, and sure enough, it looked tight. Tighter than it had earlier this evening.

“Can’t you loosen it?” I asked.

He shook his head. “It’s on its last notch.” Isaac’s face was a little proud.

“Oh,” I muttered. My face was probably pink, so I took a sip of water. Isaac laughed a little and placed a big hand on my back.

I was relieved when we left, though I noticed Isaac had been avoiding John all night. I didn’t want to pry, but they were close friends. I wondered if they’d fought again. But Isaac didn’t tell me those sorts of things. The only reason I suspected it was because of my accidental eavesdropping. Maybe Isaac thought knowing he and his friend were arguing over his weight would make me worry unnecessarily.

“How far is Celia’s from here?” Isaac asked once we’d started walking. The March air was brisk, but it felt sort of nice.

“Five blocks,” I said. “Did you eat too much?” It hadn't seemed like it.

Isaac shook his head. “Hardly. It’s this fucking belt. Feel like it’s cutting me in half.”

I pulled us to the side of the walk way.

“What’re you doing?” Isaac asked when I reached for his pants. I said nothing but smiled in a way I hoped was attractive.

Though it wasn’t easy, eventually I was able to unhook the belt and pull it off.

Isaac laughed. “What, I’m supposed to carry that all night now?”

I shook my head. “It won’t fit ever again, right?” I asked. His eyes glazed over a bit, and he shook his head. “Right,” I said, and tossed the belt into a trash bin.

“Ready to go?” I asked innocently. Isaac kissed me hard.

The bar called Celia’s was disgusting. But also very very cool. The floor probably contained diseases unknown to modern medicine, but the atmosphere was so fun and energetic, it hardly even mattered.

“PEACH!!!” I had hardly made it through the threshold, but somehow Sid had already spotted us. I gave Isaac a sympathetic glance and tugged him towards the bar where Sid and our friends were standing.

I could hardly hear over the music, but somehow Sid’s voice still boomed.

“Oh my god, Peach I’ve missed you! You get a boyfriend and all the sudden you’re not free every weekend to hang out. It’s so sad! Oh, and you’re the boyfriend,” Sid shouted, looking from me to Isaac. He wasn’t slurring but he was most definitely drunk.

“That would be me,” Isaac said. He was taller than mostly everyone, and he just seemed to take up so much space in the crowded bar. It was hot, I had to admit.

“Awww, he’s so cute! Guys, look how cute Peach and her boyfriend are,” Sid cooed.

Amy, Ty, and Jinx all mumbled their agreement in their various stages of intoxication.

“How long until Moxie comes on?” I asked Sid.

Sid checked the time on his phone. “Like, two minutes ago!”

We both cackled. These gigs never stayed on schedule.

“Do you want a drink?” Isaac whispered in my ear. His hand hovered protectively over my hip, and I leaned into him.

“Just a coke?” I said.

Sid scoffed. “Our Peach is so responsible. I always try to get her drunk at a bar but she refuses.”

Isaac glanced down at me, amused. I huffed, indignant.

“Who wants to waste $9 on some fancy shot when I could make my own for a fraction of the price. And I could drink it at home where I know I won’t get knapped!”

Sid full on cackled at me.

“You’re the best Peach, oh wow. I love you!” Sid breathed, pulling me in for a sticky hug.

Isaac returned a few minutes later with my coke and a beer for himself.

Jinx leaned over to me and drunk-whispered (meaning everyone in a ten mile radius could probably hear them), “You’re dating like, the hottest bear I’ve ever seen.” The way they said it suggested they were well versed on the subject.

I felt my cheeks turn bright red.

“Shut up, you’re the worst!” They just laughed at me.

“Ohmyygod, everyone stop, here she comes!” Sid said, grabbing anyone he could reach. This happened to include Isaac’s arm.

I shrugged in apology, but Isaac seemed only charmed by it.

The lights on the small stage came on and Moxie was there in all her glory.

She had on a leotard and fishnets, seven inch heels, and a wig big enough to be seen from outer space.

Then a Brittany Spears song came on and Moxie started dancing and lip syncing. She was strutting around the stage like she owned it, and whipping her wig all around. It was so fun to watch. The crowd screamed anytime she looked their way. Sid was the loudest, yelling, “THAT’S MY BABY!” so loud it made me wince.

Moxie ended up doing five songs before introducing the next queen and exiting.

“What’d you think?” I shouted to Isaac. He had to bend over to hear me over the music.

“She slayed,” Isaac said stone-faced.

There was something absolutely hilarious about someone as heterosexual and male as Isaac saying ‘slay’ that it made me absolutely weak in the knees. I nearly fell over laughing.

Moxie came out from backstage to mingle with us after a little while. It was fun seeing Isaac have to look up at Moxie, since her heels gave her a height advantage over someone as tall as Isaac.

“You’re an incredible performer. Um, you have a lot of stage presence,” Isaac was saying.

Moxie absolutely ate it up.

She turned to me, pleadingly.

“Cath, please keep this one? Pretty please?? I like him so much.”

Isaac gave me a smug look, like yes I charmed your friends, of course they love me.

“Wasn’t planning on getting rid of him,” I said, snuggling up under his arm.

A chorus of, “Ahh, look at them, they’re so cute! Babies!!!” followed.

“Your friends are way cooler than mine,” Isaac said on the way home. We were huddled in close as we walked to Isaac’s apartment.

I giggled and leaned into his side.

The air was charged when we reached Isaac’s building.

I felt a pull from the pit of my stomach. Isaac seemed to feel it too in the way he was avoiding looking at me. His cheeks were pink but I didn't think it was from the cold.

“Um, do you have a shirt I could borrow?” I asked once I’d gotten my shoes off. Isaac was unbuttoning his collar and it was unreasonably attractive. He nodded and I watched his chin double with the movement.

“You’re gonna swim in it but here,” Isaac said, handing me a t-shirt. I peeled off my clothes and pulled the shirt over my head. It fell to my mid-thigh.

“Thanks.”

A loaded silence followed.

“You tired?” Isaac asked. It was after 2 a.m.

“No.”

Time seemed to be moving very fast, but it also felt a bit like it was moving slow. Like pouring molasses in January, and also like watching a YouTube video at 1.75 speed.

Isaac pulled me flush against him, and his belly pressed against my small torso. He cupped my head in his big hands and tilted his face down towards mine. Our lips touched, like they had many times before.

Nothing about this kiss felt like those though.

Isaac’s tongue invaded my mouth and I couldn’t hold back a tiny whimper.

“Cath…”

I pushed my face against his chest, breathing hard. My face felt like it was on fire.

“Do you…?” Isaac asked.

Now or never, I thought.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” I said. Isaac pulled me to his room so fast we almost fell over.

Sex was different than I’d imagined it. I don’t know what I thought it’d be like. Maybe some kind of childish delusion was coloring my expectations. ‘True love or stars colliding. But the real version was better. It was flesh on flesh, sweaty and hot. It was laughing when your bodies made a weird squelching noise. It was seeing pores and moles and other imperfections.

It made me appreciate that I was physically here. That I was with Isaac carnally and he still wanted me. He wanted me so much we went at it twice before dawn.

We ate leftover Chinese food as the sun came up and it was so perfect. So absolutely astoundingly perfect.

I had the most awful, terrifying thought as I watched the sun shine onto Isaac’s curls. I love him.

It was horrible and gross and awe-inspiring and amazing and disturbing and great. I felt like my chest was full to bursting.

After that, Isaac and I grew closer in a lot of ways. For one, we started having sex a lot. Like four or five times a week. Sometimes more.

For two, Isaac and I got closer emotionally. I learned lots about him as we lay together at night, cuddling naked in the dark.

Isaac’s mom is Catholic and his dad is Jewish. Isaac’s grandma makes the best lemon bars. Isaac doesn't have siblings but his cousin Tyler is basically like a brother to him.

And Isaac learned about me as well. That my sister Ciara is sort of a mess even though she pretends she’s not. That my dad left when I was 7. That my mom is the nicest person in the world and she deserves everything.

That I love Isaac.

His face was awe-struck.

“I love you too, Catherine,” Isaac said. And I had already sort of known that. But it still lit me up inside.

Isaac hit 300 lbs in June.

It was a huge milestone, and he’d worked hard for it, eating loads to try and put on weight faster.

“I think I finally got my metabolism to slow down a bit,” Isaac confessed to me. And it was true that he was gaining faster as of late. He’d had to get new clothes. His build was decidedly top-heavy, with his belly easily being the largest feature. It stuck out in front of him, wide and thick and when he sat, it rested on his thighs. His sides started to acquire rolls where his love handles melted into his sides. His face was puffier, with the most kissable cheeks.

It was endlessly attractive to me.

It seemed like everything was going really well for me. At work, I got a promotion that came with a nice raise. I was happier than I’d ever remembered being.

Maybe I should have figured that it couldn’t last.

“Cath, hey! I feel like I’ve barely seen you lately!”

I knew that voice even though I didn’t look up from the bathroom sink where I was washing my hands.

“Hey Layla. Yeah, it’s been a busy few months,” I said, plastering on a smile. When I glanced up, I saw her in the mirror a few sinks down.

“Oh sure, sure!” Layla dried her hands on a paper towel. “I was meaning to ask you, how are things with Isaac?”

I paused, hands still wet. “Good, we’re. We’re good.”

Layla smiled easily. “That’s great. Really, I am happy for you. You know, it was strange when John and I started seeing one another, but I’m so glad you found someone. And John’s best friend no less! Why haven’t we done a double date?”

I felt something twist in my stomach. “I-I don’t know. I suppose you’d have to ask John and Isaac.”

Layla nodded sagely. “Between us, I don’t think they’ve been getting on very well lately.”

I knew this, on some level. Isaac hasn’t been going to the gym with John like he used to. He hadn’t even brought John up in weeks.

“Oh?” I asked because with Layla, playing dumb usually meant getting the scoop.

“Yes, it’s quite sad really. Apparently John was worried about Isaac’s weight. Well, you know, he has gotten rather uh portly. I’m sure you’ve noticed that,” Layla said with a knowing smile. I shot a strained one back at her so she’d continue. “And I know John maybe went about it the wrong way, but he does have a point. It can’t be healthy, gaining so much weight so fast.”

My eyes burned.

“It’s not really John’s business.”

Layla seemed surprised by the surliness of my tone.

“Of course not.” Her tone was placating. I left the bathroom without a goodbye.

All throughout the rest of the work day, I tried putting Layla’s comments out of my mind. She was just saying that to justify John’s judgmental comments.

But there was probably some kind of truth to what she was saying. Isaac was gaining loads of weight in a short amount of time. It was over 100 lbs at this point in about a year. But Isaac was keeping his strength up with weights. He was building muscle too. He was a big guy to begin with, and his frame could carry the extra weight without issue.

I tried to think rationally about it, but my brain, as usual, wanted to sabotage these efforts.

Later, Isaac and I went back to my place. We picked up middle eastern food and I watched Isaac eat two entrees and an impressive amount of pita bread.

I tried not to let it bother me, but I guess it was showing on my face because Isaac asked, “What’s wrong?”

I pushed a piece of shish tawook around my plate.

“Uh, well. Layla said something to me earlier and it’s just… you know how I get,” I said with a self-deprecating smile.

Isaac frowned.

“What did she say? Exactly?” Isaac’s voice was hard. Not angry exactly, but close.

I shrugged a little. “Just, you know. That you’d gained a lot and that it couldn’t be, er healthy.” I glanced down at my lap where my hands were picking at my pants nervously.

“Catherine. Come ‘ere.”

I looked up and Isaac was pushing his seat back from the table and gesturing to his open lap. I couldn’t help but smile as I got up and let him pull me onto his lap.

“You know I’m healthy. I got a clean bill of health at my checkup.”

I nodded because I did know that. I just needed reminding.

“Yeah,” I said quietly.

Isaac rubbed my back and I felt better almost immediately. I was like a cat; if I could purr, I probably would be right then.

“So it doesn't matter what Layla says. Because you know that I’m healthy. And we both like how I look now.”

I felt a wash of self-hatred at that moment. I was constantly needing Isaac’s reassurances. He was the one gaining weight. He was the one who’d have to deal with the judgment of others. Not me. And yet her I was, needy and sad after one comment. It was horribly pathetic.

“I’m sorry,” I said into his neck. Isaac sighed.

“Don’t apologize. I sort of like that you care so much about it,” Isaac said, a little lighter.

I smiled despite myself.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You actually give a damn about my health. Some people would probably get off on me eating like a fatass and then run for the hills if I got a health scare. So, yes. I’m glad you’re like this.”

I felt myself grin and I swatted his arm lightly.

“Shut up.”

Isaac’s laugh made his belly shake a little against me and god it felt so nice.

Everything fell apart one weekend in July.

“Come on, it’ll still be here on Monday,” Isaac said from the chair beside me. Our office was empty but for us and the custodian.

“The report’s supposed to be in before 8:00 am on Monday,” I whined. I rubbed my eyes freely since I hadn’t even put on makeup. It was horrendous that I’d received the data sheets so late, but some of the higher ups were always putting off their work until the last minute. Meaning I usually ended up staying after hours to get things done. Vienna had offered to help, but since she had plans with her family this weekend, I waved her off. I was sort of regretting it now, though.

Isaac stood slowly. He’d gained another 15 pounds and it showed. His belly jiggled more, his face was rounder, and his arms were feeling flabbier than ever. He put his chunky hands on my shoulders and rubbed a little to ease their tenseness.

“How much more do you think? It’s almost 7.”

I glanced at the report, which was about 80% done, and back at the clock.

“Maybe another hour?” I said. “You don’t have to stay, obviously.”

Isaac smiled like what I’d said was funny. “Okay, how’s this? I’m going to run across the street to that Italian place we like. I’ll get a mountain of takeaway. And by the time I get back, if you’re done with the report, I’ll let you feed it to me.”

I felt my cheeks heat.

“You’re bribing me with feeding sessions now?”

Isaac laughed, a deep, unself-conscious sound. “No, I’m incentivizing you. Do we have a deal or what?”

I glanced at his belly, imagining how swollen it’d look after three huge entree portions.

“Deal.”

Once Isaac had kissed the top of my head and left, I got to work.

I took a deep breath and focused on my report. I tried not to rush myself, because that might cause me to make mistakes, and fixing mistakes would take longer than doing it correctly from the start.

I worked, hyper focused, more intently tuned in on my report than I had been able to be all day, for the next forty minutes.

The custodian told me he was leaving and then asked me to set the alarm on my way out, and then I was alone. I finished the document, attached it to an email and was cc-ing my boss when Isaac walked in. He was carrying three heaping bags full of steaming-hot food, which he put down on a nearby desk with a heavy thunk.

“Done?” he asked with an excited eyebrow raise. I finished typing out the address, looked over the email one last time, and hit send.

Yep!” I leaned back in the office chair, pushing away from my desk and getting enough momentum to send my chain spinning in a lazy circle. I smiled at the ceiling in relief. My body felt boneless, as if the stress was the only thing that had been keeping me together all day.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry,” Isaac said suggestively. I caught myself with a hand on my desk to keep my chair in place so I could meet Isaac’s eyes.

“What’d you get?”

Isaac tore the first bag open and started pulling out styrofoam containers.

“Cheese ravioli for Catherine,” he said with a wink. “Mushroom risotto, piselli e guanciale,” Isaac said, absolutely butchering the pronunciation. I laughed at him but he ignored me. “Aaaaaand, veal parmesan.”

I glanced at the last bag, which was unopened. “What’s that?”

“Garlic bread and antipasto salad,” Isaac said. “Where should we start?”

I squirmed in my seat. I was actually quite hungry, since it was 8 p.m. and I hadn’t eaten since lunch. I figured I should eat my food before I got carried away with feeding Isaac. And salad was a bit hard to feed another person. I didn’t want to get lettuce and cheese and salami all over the place.

“Eat the antipasto first while I eat my ravioli,” I said.

Isaac smirked. “Aye aye, captain.”

It was a little weird to be sitting in an empty office building on a Friday night. It was one of those places where nothing seemed real. Most of the lights were off, just the blue glow of the computer homescreens and the security lights near the door gave the room an odd aura of timelessness.

While we got started on eating, it was quiet to the point of awkwardness with TV playing in the background like we’d normally have on at one of our apartments, and so I put some music on my phone for some ambience. I inhaled my ravioli with single-minded focus, and ate a piece of garlic bread to sop up the sauce leftover. Isaac seemed as hungry as me, as he’d nearly finished his entire salad by the time I ate my food.

“What do you want next?” I asked, standing up and stretching a bit. My back was sore from hunching over in my desk chair all day.

“Hmm,” Isaac considered, glancing at the spread of containers littered all over the available desk space in my cubicle. “Risotto. It won’t be good if it gets cold.”

I nodded and got it opened. Isaac was scooping the last of the antipasto into his mouth and I waited until he’d finished before taking the empty container and tossing it in the trash.

Then I started to climb into Isaac’s lap. It was a tight fit, since his love handles were brushing the armrests of the chair, but I shoved my knees in and settled myself over him.

“This feels scandalous,” Isaac said with a playful smile. I shrugged. Our office security cameras were only faced towards the doors, and rarely did they even get checked.

“It’s sorta hot though, right? Me feeding you at work?”

Isaac nodded and opened his mouth when I held up a forkful of risotto. His hands were on my hips, not doing anything suggestive, just resting there, but for some reason the feeling of being caged in by his hands had me blushing.

He ate the risotto quickly, and I patted his tummy, which was getting a bit bloated, as he finished off the last of it.

“How old is this shirt?” I asked, teasing at the buttons which looked a bit strained. Not indecent, but they were pulled tight enough across his gut that the fabric between was puckered.

“Uh, about two months?”

Isaac was blushing now.

“I like it,” I said. “Veal next?”

Isaac nodded and so I stood to grab the next container. Thankfully the meat was cut. It would have been hard to slice with plastic cutlery.

“Getting full?” I asked when this entree was about halfway done.

Isaac hummed, chewed, and swallowed. “Yeah. I still have room though, don’t worry.”

He did have room. He ate the rest of the veal and then had a break where he ate some bread and drank water. Then he decided he was ready for the pasta.

The peas and the pancetta in the piselli e guanciale were a little cold, but Isaac didn’t seem to mind. I forked up heaping mouthfuls and Isaac ate them dutifully.

He was really getting stuffed by the end, but he still had a solid ¼ of the meal left. He was making those adorable little grunts and moans that indicated his stuffed state. I put the container down to rub his sore belly.

“That feels amazing, Catherine,” Isaac murmured. I kissed the top shelf of his belly over his shirt. It was bloated and thick-looking. He’d indulged a lot in the last hour.

“More?”

Isaac took a deep breath and nodded.

I fed him a little more, but then he begged for a break.

“Fuck, I’m… shit I’m so full,” Isaac grunted. His belly was looking huge, and god I loved it.

“Just a little more. Come on, you can do it,” I said. Isaac opened his mouth. “That’s it, eat a little more. You know you want it,” I teased, knowing Isaac did want it. He loved to push past his limits. I was getting turned on, which was loosening my tongue a bit. “Yeah, eat more. I know you can. I know you want it. Just two more bites.”

“So full,” Isaac moaned.

I pushed another forkful into his mouth.

“Good, you’re doing so good. One more and then you’ll be done.”

Isaac opened his mouth again for me, and as I was putting the fork past his lips, I heard a smacking sound that nearly had me falling off of his lap in surprise.

Standing in the doorway was Layla.

I had no idea how long she’d been standing there. My music was still playing, and I’d been so focused on feeding Isaac and talking him through his fullness that I hadn’t heard her come in.

I was mortified.

It was so obvious what we’d been doing. I was sitting in Isaac’s lap, where he looked absolutely stuffed. We were surrounded by empty food containers. If she’d heard what I’d just been saying….

“Oh my god,” I mumbled. I wanted to sink through the floor.

“Layla, wha-what are you doing here?” Isaac asked. His chubby cheeks were bright red, and he was still out of breath from fullness. Belatedly I realized I should be getting up off his lap. This was unprofessional enough as it was.

“I left my planner here earlier, I just stopped by to grab it,” I saw the planner at her feet which she must have dropped, which explained the smack sound I’d heard, “but Cath, what the–what were you… I thought he was on a diet.” Layla said, her nasally voice accusatory. I felt sick just hearing her tone. “Isaac, you’re letting her do—-whatever this is—to you?”

Isaac took my hand in his. “I wanted her to.” His voice left little room for disagreement.

Layla sputtered. “Catherine, you are enabling his binge eating disorder! Don’t you realize that! I thought you of all people would care about his health.”

I instantly felt nauseous as her words took root.

This was what normal people thought of what we’d been doing. I’d let Isaac lull me into thinking this was normal when it clearly wasn’t. It wasn’t just strange, it was disordered. Layla had just said it was. And how hadn’t I seen it sooner? Isaac wanted to eat as much as he could in one sitting because it scratched some type of itch inside of him? Because he felt compelled to binge?

And I had been enabling it.

“Catherine, don’t listen to her,” Isaac was saying, but blood was rushing in my ears. I was going to throw up. This was all of my worst fears. Being caught, being outed as a freak, putting someone I loved in danger because of my weird fetish. I wasn’t putting his health first like I’d been trying to do. I was getting off on his messed up eating habits.

I pushed off of Isaac’s lap. He tried to hold onto me, but I didn’t let him. He was too full to get up after me anyway, and that made me feel even more sick.

I grabbed my purse and booked it past Layla, who was talking to me, but I tuned her out. I got on the elevator, shaking and numb all over.

I made it to my apartment like a zombie, and I collapsed on my bed in my clothes. Only then did I let myself cry.

CHRIS: have u talked to isaac yet??

I glanced at my phone from my spot on my bed, burrowed into the blankets like a burrito, before locking my phone and putting my comforter over my head like a dramatic 12 year old.

I had called Christ last night after I’d cried out my embarrassment, my panic. And it’d been, well… an awkward conversation to say the least.

Chris had been worried (obviously) as I’d called him crying, so I started trying and failing to explain what Layla had interrupted without mentioning the feeding situation.

But well. It made no sense. We weren’t having sex in the office, or anything like that. Really, there was no reason for it to have been a big deal. So what I got caught sitting on my boyfriend’s lap? It was awkward, sure, but there was no reason for my reaction if I didn’t explain the–the food stuff. The health stuff. My anxiety stuff.

And so with my censoring, Chris was totally lost.

But this was, well, Chris. My best friend, the most accepting non-judgmental person I knew. If I couldn’t tell Chris about my preferences, I couldn’t tell anyone.

So after a few minutes of his voice in my ear calming me down, I had to bite the bullet and explain, yeah so remember how I never used to like anyone? It’s because I only like fat people. Fat guys, actually. Which Isaac is one. In case you hadn’t realized. Um. Oh and that awkward encounter Layla walked in on? I was actually just sitting on his lap feeding him Italian food. Because I’m a freak. And my insane brain was already on the cusp of breaking down at any given moment over the fact that Isaac could possibly be sick, or hurt, or… or something. And so when Layla insinuated that I was enabling an eating disorder I.. well. I believed her.

Chris had been quiet while brokenly explained that Isaac liked eating and getting fatter and I liked watching it happen.

Chris was silent for a moment but he accepted the information without any fuss, which I appreciated.

That was last night. His reassurances no longer had much effect.

And so now, those dark thoughts had time to grow and festered over the course of a day.

I was even more reluctant to reach out to Isaac today seeing as he hadn’t even attempted to call me. Obviously it wasn’t his responsibility. I was the one who’d ran off and left him there. And the guilt was eating at me a bit, to be honest. But still. I was used to Isaac constantly wanting to comfort me. Coddle me. And now that he… wasn’t, I found myself unable to cope.

So I continued to ignore Chris’ message and wallowed in self-pity some more until I heard a knock on my apartment door in the early evening.

I had migrated to the couch with a cup of tea by then, but I still looked like a mess. My face was blotchy from crying, and I hadn’t showered. My pajamas were oversized and worn in. Surely my hair was a mess as well, but.

I stood up and looked out my peephole anyway. Part of me had expected Chris to come do a wellness check before he left for the club that night, but a secret, smaller part thought maybe Isaac would be there.

But when I looked out into the hallway, it was neither of them.

John stood outside my door, awkwardly shifting his weight and fiddling with his wrist watch.

I yanked the door open.

“John?”

John looked startled.

“Catherine. Hi, um, I was hoping I could speak with you,” John said. I kept my body in front of my partially-open door.

I frowned. “Why?” I asked.

John scratched the back of his neck.

“Look, I… I talked to Isaac. And Layla, and I just. I know this situation is fucked and I know you might not be wanting company right now but,” John left the sentence unfinished, but turned a more pleading expression at me.

I swallowed heavily. John fidgeted under my stare for a moment.

“Um. Okay, come in,” I said, sliding out of the way so he could come inside. Luckily my neat-freak tendencies had kept my apartment from looking too rough. Aside from the pile of blankets on the couch, my place looked the same as it normally would.

I was the only thing that looked like a mess.

I sat down in my blanket nest and John took a seat in the chair.

“So.” I kicked my leg absent-mindedly. “Why are you…?”

“Here?” John guessed. I guested in confirmation, only feeling a little rude to be asking. He took a deep breath. “Catherine, I came here because I needed to say, well. I know we went on a date. And you weren’t into it.” His smile was self-deprecating. I started to protest but he didn’t let me. Which was fine, it’s fine. But surely I ignored some red flags when Layla asked me out directly after setting me up with you, her supposed friend. I mean, at the time I didn’t know she was like…” John searched for a word. “Like that.”

I nodded because I did know that Layla was in fact ‘like that’.

“And when Isaac asked me how I would feel if he started pursuing you, I was honestly skeptical. I thought.. I thought you’d go out with him once and never again. Like you had with me.” John smiled wistfully. “But when you kept seeing each other, I was happy for him. Truly.”

I felt myself blushing for some reason.

“Are you and Layla, um, broken up?” I asked tentatively.

John nodded, scratched at his thighs nervously. “I broke it off with her after I spoke with Isaac, but it. It was a long time coming,” he explained.

“Oh,” I said dumbly.

“But, Catherine, I’m not here to talk about my breakup. I,” he scrubbed his face with one hand. “I wanted to talk to you because I think you need to hear this from someone who isn’t Isaac.”

His words made my eyes snap to his. He was stiff, serious, but clearly sincere.

John took a breath. “Isaac told me a while ago that he wanted to, erm, to gain weight,” John said.

I instantly regretted having this conversation. My stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“And I didn’t understand. Still don’t really. But it doesn’t matter. Because it’s his life, it’s his choice how he wants to live it. And that misunderstanding, my lack of acceptance, put a wedge between us. I hardly saw Issac this past year. And you’ve got to know, Catherine. I love Isaac. He’s one of my closest friends. To not have him in my life was. It was awful,” John said. “And so when Isaac called me last night, I.” John paused. I found myself staring at my hands in my lap. His voice was raw, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable. But I continued listening. “He called me and told me what happened. And then I heard the same story from Layla. And you want to know something, Catherine?”

I reluctantly met his gaze.

“Isaac told me that he’d screwed things up with you. Because he wanted to protect you from getting hurt. And he thought he’d failed at that. He was beating himself up about it.” John scoffed. “Isaac is one of a kind, isn’t he? You want to know what he didn’t tell me, but Layla did?”

I didn’t really, but I figured John wouldn’t have come all the way to my apartment for no reason, so I nodded anyway.

“She said that after you left, Isaac kept eating, shoving all the remaining food in his mouth like it was some act of defiance,” John said. He smiled fondly. “Isaac wanted her to know that it wasn’t you forcing him to do anything. Because you weren’t. You might already know that, but in case you need reminding, Isaac wanted to get fat with or without you. And I honestly don’t understand it. But it makes him happy, so,” John shrugged. “Isaac thinks he f**ked this up between you two, but Catherine… It’s no one’s fault. Maybe Layla’s for opening her big mouth but.”

I swallowed heavily.

“Thank you for, for saying all that,” I said.

John nodded. It was odd, how one conversation, one honest conversation with John, could make me understand why he and Isaac were friends. John was considered, reserved, but ultimately he cared about things. Cared enough to come all the way to my place just to make sure I wasn’t going to spiral so hard that I’d hurt Isaac forreal.

That was a good friend.

Isaac opened the door slowly. His t-shirt was ill-fitting, clinging to his tubby belly in a way that made me want to reach out and feel that supple flesh between my fingers. His brown curls were a mess, like he’d been running his hands through them, or maybe he’d just recently lost a pillow fight.

His eyes widened when he saw me standing in the hallway.

“Catherine?” he mumbled, surprised.

“Hi. Can I come in?” I asked. After John had left I showered and put on some real clothes, still comfortable ones, but an outfit that was suitable for outdoor wear.

Isaac stepped aside so I could walk in. His apartment was a mess, but I wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t as neat as me anyway.

We stood there in the foyer staring at each other for a few seconds. Isaac bit his lip, so I opened my mouth to speak.

“I’m sorry. For running away,” I said.

Isaac frowned. “No, no it’s, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Isaac said. I smiled but shook my head slowly.

“It is. I’ve realized just how much you’ve done to-to help me. With my issues. You’re, god, you’re freakishly accommodating,” I said, smiling humorlessly. “It’s like, you’re perfect. For me, at least.”

Isaac’s eyes were very wide.

“Do you know why I don’t like when people touch me?” I asked.

Isaac shook his head.

“I avoid being touched because I’m scared of being a real person. I’m always so scared that if someone touches me with-with any kind of tenderness, then I’ll simply fall apart. I-I spend so much time trying to hold myself together that I always knew that if I ever let anyone in, that I would crumble. I’m not, I’m not good at this, Isaac. I’m,” I put the heel of my hands into my eyes. “I’m terrible at being in a relationship because I never let myself be vulnerable with anyone before. Not my family, not my friends, not. Not anyone. Until you.”

I pulled my hands away to glance up at Isaac. He was staring at me like he’d never seen me before.

“Catherine, can I…?” Isaac’s hands were hovering, like they wanted to pull me in for a hug, but he waited until I nodded before he did.

Being hugged by him was. It was.

I felt so safe.

“You’re not bad at being in a relationship,” Isaac mumbled into my hair. “Whoever told you that is stupid. You’re, god, you’re everything to me,” Isaac said.

I felt my eyes welling up with tears.

“I think I should go to therapy,” I whispered. It was a thought that I’d avoided for years. I was scared of anyone ever getting close enough to know me. I didn’t like thinking about myself, my childhood. I actively pretended that I was normal, that I was fine when I clearly was not.

“Whatever you want,” Isaac said.

Epilogue: Three months later

“Mom, you’ll see me for Thanksgiving….Yes, I’m bringing Isaac….I know….I love you too…. Oka, bye.”

I hung up and sighed.

“How’re things back home?” Isaac asked from the kitchen. He was making a bowl of cereal even though he’d had lunch only an hour ago. His appetite was impressive, and as of yesterday, he was tipping the scales at 356 lbs.

“Fine. My family is just. They’re a little too excited to meet you,” I said exasperatedly.

“Well I’m excited to meet them too. Especially the famous mee-maw,” Isaac teased. I rolled my eyes.

Isaac and I were planning to move in together after Isaac’s lease ended, but he practically lived here already.

I watched Isaac devour his cereal and pour himself a second bowl.

“You’re gonna spoil dinner,” I complained, knowing that it was not possible. We were going to a new restaurant tonight with John and his new girlfriend Grace. Isaac was bound to be ravenous by then even if he ate the whole box.

A few months ago I might’ve worried about the amount of sugar Isaac was eating, but after starting therapy and being prescribed antidepressants, my cycle of worrying was less intense. That’s not to say that it didn’t happen. But well. It was more manageable. It helped that Isaac was willing to get checkups frequently, and he’d resumed going to the gym to keep up his health while he gained.

I stared at Isaac as he ate. He really was so handsome. With those shiny brown curls, those dimples when he smiled, his chubby cheeks and double chin…

“See something you like?” Isaac asked when he noticed my staring.

“Maybe,” I said with a grin.

The end

#weight gain story #weight gain fiction #bhm fiction #male wight gain story #bhm/ffa story #chubby kink #belly kink #my writing #naivemlnd #maybe it's you #feedism story

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corky-the-gluttony-demon · 2 months ago

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DMC: An Absurd Comedy – “The King’s Game” - Round 1/10

AN: So, I know it’s been a while since I updated (still in the final drafts of the Wrath Followers arc, but as I said in a previous post this is very self-indulgent, and I don’t intend for people to read it but if I feel brave and satisfied enough, I’ll post. This is one of those.)

It takes place about 4-6 arcs down (it’s been a year since the team first started working together) and I just got this idea after watching my friend replay Persona. (I forget which one it is but it’s the one with “The King’s Game”.)

Some forewarning, a couple of my OCs Felix and Abigail (which you meet in Wrath Followers) are toxic and are intended to be for the sake of conflict.

This is also written in my OC Corky’s pov. I didn’t initially start off the series like that (which is why it takes me longer because I might rewrite Arc 2 or maybe actually post Arc 1 which I feel is just a retelling of DMC reboot with the characters switched out) because I realize I am having more fun writing from her POV. It just feels more immersive and easier.

Does contain some NSFW though I think it is relatively tame and harmless.

October 25th, 2015 - 7:21 PM

Devil May Cry shop – Red Grave City

Alright, it’s Closing Time—time to wind down, relax, enjoy that thick, quiet space in the air that hums like a contented cat.

I see Nico reach behind the broken-up couch at the shop, snatching up some bottle from Dante’s hidden trove. “Well, well, look what we have here,” she says, all sly, waving the thing around. “Bet Dante thought he’d keep this for himself. Guess what, suckers? We’re drinkin’ tonight.”

Nero groans softly, “Shouldn’t you save that for a special occasion?�� Nico rolls her eyes and slams the bottle down on the table with all the care of a jackhammer. “Oh, come on, Sparda. Wouldn’t kill ya to loosen up a little. Or are ya scared to see how you handle your liquor?”

“You know I don’t drink, Nico.”

Marcus, Morrison’s kid (I say that as if he’s not the same age as me, Nero, and Abbs) practically bouncing in his seat. “But I do! I’m in!”

“C’mon, Nero. You don’t wanna be the only one not joining the party, right?” Abigail’s voice is a sickly kind of sweet, like a rotten peach covered in sugar.

Felix slaps a hand on Nero’s shoulder, “Guess your Sparda blood’s not all it’s cracked up to be, huh?”

Oh boy. Here comes that look—Nero’s “I am ten seconds away from strangling you” glare.

And then, as if Felix’s smug face wasn’t grating enough, Abigail leans in, dangling the glass in front of him like it’s a ticket to some exclusive club. “Don’t be such a bore, Nero. It’s just a drink.”

I don’t know when I became so protective of Nero suddenly. Not that he needs it. Maybe it was what happened last week in the jungle. Out of everyone he was the only one who really stood by me against my old man. And even when he found out about Beelzebub being my grandfather, he didn’t judge or push me.

“Hey, Nero,” I say, trying to break through the tension before he snaps. “You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to. I mean, it’s not like they’re going to keel over if you say no.”

“Corky!” Felix suddenly snaps at me. “What are you doing?”

“What? Felix, you know I don’t like to drink either,” I say, throwing my hands up defensively.

Abigail scoffs, rolling her eyes. “It’s not like we’re asking him to sell his soul. Just to loosen up for once. It wouldn’t kill you either, Corky. A little… lubrication.”

V, quietly observing everything, has somehow drifted closer to the group, and suddenly, all eyes land on him.

“Hey, now there’s a guy who likes to party,” Felix says, nodding at V with a smirk. “Mr. Edgar Allen Poe over here, I didn’t know you drank!”

Nico pauses in her glass hunt behind the bar, grinning as she pops up, her head cocked with surprise.

Griffon fluffs his feathers, smirking down at her. “Please, V here drinks like a classy bird. Ain’t that right, buddy? None of this cheap bar crap; he’s strictly a cabernet guy.”

V gives a polite little nod, as if Griffon’s somehow dead-on. “Even in the roughest spirits, there’s a taste of the earth, a touch of eternity…if one cares to find it.”

Everyone goes silent for a beat. Are we ever going to get used to V’s random musings?

Abigail lets out a pointed laugh, “Come on, Boy Scout,” she goads Nero, “Even V seems to have more balls than you.”

Ouch. That was so uncalled for. Usually, Nero would ignore Abigail or shut her down, but this time it seems to get to him. His jaw tightens as he stares at the bottle that Nico finally opens after some time struggling quietly with it. “Fine. Give me a glass.”

Nico’s face lights up with a grin like she’s just won the lottery. “There we go! The hero steps up! Marcus fetch me a couple more glasses. Corky?” She glances up at me.

I’m not letting that one go unchecked, though. “Hey, Nero,” I say, low enough that only he can hear. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, would you just shut up, Corky?” Abigail’s tone is dripping with that practiced irritation, like she’s dealing with a particularly annoying bug. She seems to reserve that especially for me. Don’t know what I ever did to piss her off.

For the first time I stay silent. Nero’s a grown man, Corky. Why are you all of a sudden so concerned about this?

Nico lines up the shots, counting each one as she fills them. “Seven glasses, one for each of our poor, unfortunate souls,” she says with a smirk, doling them out. V’s shot, though, is… Well, calling it “baby-sized” would be generous. It’s maybe half a sip at most.

Griffon leans over, craning his neck at V’s glass. “Oh, come on, Nico! You trying to insult my guy? He needs a real drink, not this toddler stuff!”

Nico snorts and fills his glass to match the rest. “Alright, alright, don’t get your feathers in a tizzy, I didn’t realize.

She lifts her own glass, glancing at each of us, her smirk broadening. “Alright, how’s Rogerio say it? Salud!”

And there’s a chorus of glasses clinking, like we’re all on the same boat for one ridiculous, fleeting moment. Everyone downs their shots in one swift motion, no hesitation. Well, mostly.

The whiskey’s got that gasoline burn, a throat-searing, gut-punching heat that hits hard and fast. I swallow mine and feel like my insides just did a somersault, all heat and haze rolling around in my stomach. I’ve eaten worse.

Marcus chokes on his, coughing so hard he goes red, wide-eyed, clutching his chest like it’s gonna explode. A bit dramatic.

Abigail just laughs, fixing her fringe. “Oh, rookie move, Morrison. Gotta learn to savor it.”

Nero looks stunned, blinking as if he’s just had a vision of his impending death. He lets out a wheeze, face twisted in mild horror.

“How do people actually… enjoy this?”

Felix claps him on the back, grin wide and wicked. “That’s the spirit, Nero. See, wasn’t so bad, right?”

Meanwhile, V’s reaction is… subdued, but I can tell he’s feeling it by the faint twitch in his brow and the way he almost—almost—winces. Abigail’s eyes gleam, that dangerous little smirk curling up like she’s just gotten an idea too good to ignore. “You know what we need?”

She leans in, eyes narrowed, voice low and dripping with amusement.

“A drinking game.”

“I thought we were gonna play cards?” Nero says with that grumpy deadpan.

“Strip poker?” Abigail asks, innocently, batting her lashes at him.

“No!”

Abigail shrugs, swirling her glass, mischief glinting in her eyes. “You are so boring. You guys always play cards.”

Marcus pipes up, “…Have any of you heard of ‘The King’s Game’?” Now that gets my attention.

“Oh, I know that one,” I say, grinning as the memories creep up. “I haven’t played that since I was… well, a dumbass teenager with questionable friends and too much spare time."

Felix, leaning forward now, has the same mischievous glint. “Me too,” he says, smirk creeping up his face like he’s suddenly a teenager again. “Things got… interesting.”

Nico, ever the chaos-seeker, perks up, leaning closer. “Wait, wait, what’s that?” She looks at Marcus like he’s just revealed the secret to life itself.

Marcus, now relishing his role as the night’s game-master, clears his throat, “Alright, here’s how it works. We get a bunch of sticks or scraps of paper, whatever works. One person’s the ‘King,’ and everyone has to follow their orders for the round, no matter what.”

Nero’s already squinting suspiciously. “And what exactly does the ‘King’ make people do?”

“Anything. Could be simple, could be… risky.”

“Anything?” Abigail asks, clearly already coming up with ideas.

Nico cackles, already on board, waving her drink. “Well, hell! Why didn’t we think of this sooner? Let’s do it! We’ll find out who can actually handle the heat around here.”

Nero groans, shaking his head but looking reluctantly intrigued. “I don’t know… I feel like this is going to end badly.”

“We can go around, see how it goes. If nobody wants to keep playing, they can duck out,” I say speaking to everyone generally.

“Thank you, Mama. Do you want us to come up with a safe word, too?” Abigail scoffs.

Marcus rubs his hands together. “Alright, first thing we need are sticks or slips or something.”

Felix scoffs, pulling a deck of cards from a drawer with a flick of his wrist. “Sticks? We’ve got cards. Here.” He fans them out, selecting a king and grabbing numbers two through seven, tossing them in a small pile on the table. “We shuffle ‘em, splay ‘em, and everyone picks one. Done and done.”

“But wait,” I say, crossing my arms, “aren’t we supposed to pull them one at a time? You know, to make it suspenseful?”

“Oh, please, Corky. We don’t need suspense; we need results.” Abigail says, throwing the cards down in a messy spread on the table, face down.

Marcus looks over the group with a patient, if slightly exasperated, smile. “Actually, quick rule check: you can’t see each other’s cards. When the King gives an order, they don’t do it by name, they do it by number. Makes it more interesting ‘cause you don’t know who you’re daring.”

“Even better,” Nico says, grabbing her drink, “Another round?”

There’s a ripple of mixed reactions—a groan from Nero, an eager “hell yes” from Felix, and a sort of dignified nod from V, who looks ready to endure whatever chaos comes his way with minimal protest.

Nero raises his glass in reluctant solidarity. “Cheers, I guess.”

“Attaboy!” Nico crows, nudging him with her elbow before downing her drink in one go, “Alright, let’s get this show on the road.”

Felix grabs the cards, shuffling them with an expert flick of his wrist, that smirk widening. “Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets. Who’s about to embarrass themselves first?”

Griffon cackles from his perch on V’s shoulder. “My money’s on Sparda boy over there. Look at him—guy’s already sweating bullets, and we haven’t even started!”

Nero shoots Griffon a glare that could cut glass. “Fuck off, birdbrain,” Nero mutters, setting his glass down with a decisive thud. “Let’s get this over with.”

We all reach forward, picking a card from the splayed mess on the table, and I hold mine close. I flip it over in my hand: "I'm the King!" I declare, holding up the card for all to see.

Nico lets out a low whistle, grinning at me with that look of “don’t go easy on us now.” Felix raises a brow, smirking. “Alright, King Corky of Beelze, what’s your first royal decree?”

Hm… Something fun to ease everyone in, sure—but we’re here to make people sweat a little, right? And just then, the idea hits me. “I, King Corky of Beelze, command… Number six to eat five spoonfuls of hot sauce.”

Everyone glances around, waiting to see who’s been hit with the fiery gauntlet. Then, slowly, with a look that could kill, Abigail lifts her card, revealing the dreaded number six.

“Hot sauce? Really?”

I shrug, trying to keep a straight face but utterly failing. “You know the rules, Abigail. King’s orders.”

She rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like a curse. “I was expecting something embarrassing, not something that’s gonna burn a hole through my insides,” she gripes, but the challenge flickers in her eyes. She’s too proud to back down, that’s for sure.

Nico’s already up, rummaging around for a bottle, and when she finds it, she lets out a little cheer. “Found it! Dante’s Secret Stash.” She places the bottle in front of Abigail with a grin. “Shoulda known he’d have something lethal lying around.”

Abigail grabs the bottle with a resigned sigh, examining the label like she’s sizing up an opponent in the ring. “Oh there is a cute little picture of a skull and flames on the label,” she mutters, unscrewing the cap. “How lovely.”

“Pretty on brand for you, babe!” Felix says with a wicked grin. She shoots him a look of pure disdain before carefully pouring a spoonful, the dark red liquid shimmering ominously. Without another word, she raises the spoon and downs it. For a second, there’s nothing—just her chewing in exaggerated calm.

Then her eyes widen, and I swear she goes three shades paler before turning a furious red. She chokes slightly, slapping a hand over her mouth. “Oh, shit,” she croaks, eyes watering as she looks at the bottle like it’s personally offended her ancestors.

Felix howls with laughter, practically banging his fist on the table. “Thought you could handle a little heat, Abby?”

Abigail doesn’t answer, just slams down another spoonful, probably out of pure spite. Her hand shakes a little as she brings it to her mouth, her jaw clenched like she’s about to battle her way through Hell and back.

“Oh, Abby,” I say, my voice all mock sympathy. “Three more to go. I’m surprised you can’t handle the heat, since pyro magic is your specialty and all.”

She glares at me, eyes narrowed, face shiny with sweat. “Fuck you, you fat-ha! Ha!” But she reaches for the spoon again despite the weird breathing noise she is making. Spoon three goes down with a wince, her lips trembling as she tries to maintain even a scrap of dignity.

Nero is biting back a smile. “You’re a trooper, Abigail.”

She swallows hard, barely managing to rasp out, “Glad you are enjoying this, fucker.”

By the fourth spoonful, her face has gone from red to purple, and I’m pretty sure I see actual steam rising off her head. Nico hands her a napkin, looking a mix of impressed and horrified. “Blink twice if you need us to call you an ambulance, sugar.”

Abigail just grabs the napkin and dabs her face, glaring at all of us with watery eyes as she forces down the last spoonful. “There,” she croaks, setting the spoon down with an audible clink. “Satisfied?”

“Immensely,” I say with a grin.

She flips me off, her hands shaking slightly as she reaches for her glass, knocking it back in one go. “Ah! Alcohol was a bad idea!”

“I could have told you that, genius. Let me get you some water,” Nero says, already headed for the kitchen.

"Whose ready for round 2?" Nico asks.

The game continues.

#devil may cry #fanfiction #devil may cry oc #devil may cry ocs #dmc #dmc nero #nero sparda #dmc nico #nicoletta goldstein #dmc v

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pennzance · 1 year ago

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Ghostbusters: Port Huron (Episode 17)

Episode 17: Avoca Redux

September 21st, 1998

Incident report by Eric

Ah, milk runs. That’s the name for the routine calls, a term we picked up from Amber. Simple jobs, the everyday work. And on familiar ground, no less. The house in Avoca, my first report.

Okay, so it turns out the big purple slime thing we caught here is what’s known as a ‘free repeater.’ In Ghostbusting terms, it refers to an entity that keeps coming back, usually because it’s a symptom of some other issue. Our purple slime guy proved to be one of those, driving the poor couple we… inconvenienced last time quickly out of the property. It helps that they got just a whole bunch of money from us for the damage we did last time. I never got a thank you note for that. I think they moved to Lapeer. Anyways…

The Avoca house hasn’t been big on our radar for a while. We visited it twice more after my last report, both times to bust the ghost again and try and identify the cause of its repetitions. Today, however, its going to serve a different purpose: a fine introduction to the job for our new part-timers.

This is great. I’ve been in a few D&D groups where we introduced new players to the group by revisiting old adventure locations and this is that, but in real life and no real physical danger. Big, purple and slimy is an unruly and rude little pus, but he’s not the ‘throw sharp objects’ kind of violent. Just to keep things simple, I left my Proton Gauntlet back in PoHo. Classic busting times.

Jason is a lot like I was the first time out; skeptical that there’s anything to this job aside from talking to some crazies and putting minds at ease. I’m looking forward to his initial reaction. Kelly is a different problem. To start with, she is constantly both distracted and distracting. I told her four or five times to zip her jumpsuit up all the way, and all that did was make her flirt with me. Not entirely unpleasant, but not what the day was about.

It was sort of sad to see the Avoca house be empty of human life. The last time I had been out here it was to trap the slimer so the young couple could finish moving out. He kept scaring them away from their kitchenware. I did that job solo, so this was going to be a cakewalk. I stayed by the Ecto-908 and showed them how to power up their equipment, and then sort of intentionally sabotaged them by handing Kelly the PKE Meter, almost exclusively for my own amusement.

“Go get it.” I said.

“I just wave this around until it beeps?” Kelly asked, and a small part of my dark soul sang with delight.

“Sure,” I told her with a smile.

Jason looked a little uneasy. Possibly my face had given away something, but they both went into the house, stepping a little less cautiously than they probably should have. I looked at my watch and made a bet with myself. Ten minutes before I heard a scream, and I’d buy them ice cream on the way home. Five and I’d buy them dinner.

Seven minutes and forty-two seconds. That’s how long it took.

The first scream came from the second floor, generally the slimer’s preferred hangout so I had sort of expected that. What I didn’t expect was for Kelly to come crashing through the window and onto the roof trying to get away from it. I caught sight of the thing as it came to the window, slime pouring out of its mouth, and I think it saw me because it instantly darted back inside. A minute later Jason came sprinting out of the front door as Kelly sobbed on the roof.

“We found it,” Jason told me, his face a few shades paler than before.

“So I see,” I replied, trying very hard not to smile. I was failing.

“We left the traps in the car,” Jason said.

“Oh, no, did we?” I feigned shock. “I’m SO sorry. Here, I’ll get the trap ready, and you go help Kelly off the roof.”

“Um,” Jason said, looking around, “do we have a ladder?”

“Ladders aren’t standard equipment, I’m afraid. You’ll have to go up there and get her from the window.” I was so happy I had turned around, fake rummaging in the Ecto-908 for the trap because I was grinning so hard my face hurt. I took a few deep breaths to contain myself as Jason went back inside. For a little while, the only noise I could hear was Kelly’s manic, hyperventilating sobs.

I sauntered inside the house myself with the trap, powering up my own pack just for show. The floor was a mess. The slimer had been all over the house in the absence of living tenants, and the place was a mess. I heard a thump from upstairs as Jason brought Kelly back inside.

Then there was another scream that got muffled. I heaved a sigh and went up the stairs. The upstairs hallway was full of activity, with Kelly on the ground thrashing around while the purple slimer drooled all over her, and Jason frozen in terror, just watching this all unfold. I put the trap down, kicked it over near Kelly, and zapped the slimer with the Proton Pack. I talked through what I was doing as a learning experience, guiding the ghost over the trap with the confinement stream, opening the trap with the step-pedal, and taking off the stream as the ghost was sucked up.

Jason helped Kelly to her feet. She was covered in slime. I cracked a smile as she complained that it was seeping into her underwear. “That’s why you zip the jumpsuit up all the way,” I told her. “Come on, we’ve got towels in the Ecto-908. I’ll get you guys some ice cream.”

I called the realtor on the sign in front of the house when I got back to the office and told her about the ghost. Her tone of voice on the phone with me told me she was aware, and when I offered our services to investigate the cause of the repeater she declined. She mentioned that she might take us up on that later but heading into October she wanted to monetize the property as a haunted house. I wished her luck and filed my report.

End of report.

ADDITIONAL: I’ve had a talk with Kelly about what kind of undergarments are appropriate and preferred for Ghostbusting. I’ve also had a long talk with her about makeup, which kinds are ecto-soluble and which ones aren’t. We also spoke at length about appropriate behavior on the job. She might have heard some, all, or none of it, but I at least tried. I also spoke severely with Eric about forgetting the camera he was supposed to bring on this job. For official reasons, of course. – Amber.

#pennzance writes #ghostbusters #ghostbusters port huron

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blackcatxmagic · 17 days ago

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It would have been cruel to get Corey all flustered, to touch him like this, to flirt with such an innocent soul, if Leo didn't have intentions with him. And "intentions" just meant that Leo wasn't simply leading Corey on - if the night went a certain way (and Leo hoped it would), then he'd be more than happy to follow through with it. Even so, there was something to be said about just flirting, and there were all these things that Leo was learning about Corey, like the way he smiled different in response to flirtatious words, the slight, adorable blush to his cheeks, the way his skin warmed to Leo's touch. Flirting was always a bit like a dance, figuring out where your chemistry was, and so far it felt like Leo and Corey had chemistry for days. It was explosive, and Leo (half) jokingly thought, It must be the hair.

And speaking of hair, Leo really loved playing with the ends of Corey's, though he wanted to do more, wanted to run his fingers through it. Maybe you will before the night is over, Leo thought, and that brought another smile to his face. He noticed the way Corey didn't commit to anything as he spoke of them seeing the natural state of each other's wild hair, and honestly that excited Leo even more than if Corey had been direct. It made it feel like anything could happen, and that sent a thrill through him. Leo could tell that Corey was nervous too, and he didn't want the man to feel that way, didn't want him to feel like Leo was expecting anything. Maybe with a different guy, Leo would have been more forward, but Leo sensed some vulnerability within Corey, and he didn't want to ignore or - worse - exploit that. Sure, Leo could be an asshole sometimes, but he wasn't cruel. "I like that idea too," he replied softly, a smile on his face. Leo's hand was still on Corey's neck, and he rubbed his thumb over the man's jaw, continuing to smile at him. There were a lot of things he wanted to do with his new friend, but mostly Leo waned him to have a good night. It felt like Corey deserved that.

As he sat at the bar later on waiting for Corey, Leo kept thinking about what the man had said before he left. He had told Leo he appreciated him, and Leo thought about the implications of that. Corey had been relieved that Leo had given him an out, and it seemed like people had not always been so kind to him, so understanding. Well Leo wasn't going to be one of those guys. Sure, Leo wasn't looking for a relationship, and he wouldn't lead Corey on about that. But he wanted to make Corey feel amazing, even if that didn't end up being sexually. Maybe you're not such an asshole after all, Leo thought, but then he laughed. He knew some of that was a front, but also he knew he didn't tolerate bullshit well. But Leo didn't feel like he had to worry about that with Corey.

As he was taking another sip of his drink, Leo looked around and saw Corey entering the bar. Immediately the man smiled brightly, like literal sunshine, and Leo couldn't help but smile in return, waving. He had come, and Leo felt almost giddy. As he'd thought earlier in the grocery store, Corey wasn't the typical guy he went for; normally he sought out men who were more self-assured, less fragile. But it was Corey's fragility that had drawn Leo in (along with his hair; it always went back to the hair), though Leo didn't think that that was mutually exclusive with strength. Leo felt like you could be soft yet resilient at the same time; Corey definitely was. Even though he barely knew the guy, Leo could tell he'd been through some shit. "You didn't, not too long," Leo replied, standing up to hug the man. He held Corey close for a few seconds longer than he would have normally, his hand on the back of the man's head, fingers in his hair. It was as soft as Leo had expected, and he savored his first time properly touching Corey's hair. He hoped it wouldn't be the last time.

After pulling back from the hug, Leo just looked at Corey, smiling still. "I kind of worried you wouldn't come," Leo said, sitting back down and patting the bar stool next to him. He turned his body to face the other man, grabbing Corey's knee and giving it a little squeeze. "I thought we'd get a drink," Leo said, pausing as he looked at the drink in his hand. "Alright, another drink in my case," he corrected with a laugh. Then he continued, "And then we could go to that cozy little booth in the corner," pointing at the table Leo had put a "reserved" sign on, a perk of being a bartender here (normally there had to be a proper reservation, but Leo had just snagged the sign from under the bar). It was tucked away, offering a sense of privacy in the crowded bar.

At Leo's teasing, Corey felt the same flutter in his chest that had been present for their entire interaction, a flutter that Corey was beginning to associate exclusively with the other - the feeling being a mix of excitement and a familiar nervous energy. It was clear that Leo wasn’t holding back, and as much as it made Corey feel a little self-conscious, it also made him feel a little more alive. He grinned, enjoying the back and forth between them, even if the implications were starting to sink in. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to fully go there yet, but it was hard to ignore the chemistry building between them, and the mere prospects of whatever this could be excited Corey more than he'd have expected.

He felt his heart not only flutter, but race at Leo’s comment about him being adorable. It was almost too much, but in the best way. There was no denying the warmth flooding through him at Leo’s attention. The more Leo leaned in, the more Corey felt the pull, the desire to let go of his nerves and just enjoy the moment. It felt good to be seen, to be admired, to be flirted with.

Corey could feel the heat of Leo’s touch as it lingered on his neck, and for a moment, he just stood there, trying to collect himself. The slow, soft touch Leo spoke of seemed to settle into his body, making his pulse quicken. He wanted to be bold, to lean into it, but a part of him still felt hesitant. Leo’s words about letting things unfold felt like the perfect reassurance though, and it made Corey feel like maybe, just maybe, he could let his guard down a little more. Having no expectations, and no pressure, certainly helped Corey feel all the more comfortable being brave. "I like that idea," Corey replied, voice quieter now, the weight of his own vulnerability hanging in the air between them.

"Yeah, I’ll meet you there," Corey agreed, his tone more relaxed now, his excitement almost making itself known. The extra reassurance that came from Leo made Corey even more eager to meet him at the bar; the kindness that Leo showed amongst his flirting helped Corey feel even safer pursuing whatever this could be, and wherever this may go. His smile brightened. "I appreciate you, Leo," he told him truly. "Thank you, yeah, I have a feeling you will," see him there, he meant.

Corey was true to his word; on the drive from work to the bar not too long after his interaction with Leo, Corey only felt himself grow more excited. There was a lot of anticipatory anxiety building up inside of him on the way, as there always would be for such an anxious person, but the eustress trumped the distress, that was for sure. He found a park easily, and after double checking that his hair was still looking good in the rear view mirror of his car, he made his way inside.

It took him only a second to spot Leo, and he was honestly surprised at himself for just how wide his smile grew at the sight of him. With a false confidence, Corey strutted his way over to his new friend, noting the drink already in hand. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting," he apologised. "I had to deal with some work stuff before I could leave," he explained.

#interaction*#interactions: leo #leo & corey

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noteguk · 4 years ago

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hickeys | jjk | m | drabble

[ ! ] this is a “bad influence” drabble

— summary; Jungkook gets a bit jealous. Not that he’d ever admit it.

— contents and warnings; pwp, smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, enemies with benefits, jealousy/possessiveness!!, kind of angry sex (it’s one-sided, jk is going through a Moment), unprotected sex, marking (hickeys, mentions of bruises), dirty talk, overstimulation, creampie, mentions of oral (f rec) and of cum eating, jk has a big dick, the oc being clueless but overall having a good time

— words; 2,2k

— author’s note; this was supposed to be shorter but, well, that’s the story of my life. A few people asked for a bit of jealous!jk so here I am to deliver it 😌 Inspired by this ask I got.

Jungkook hated the wintertime. He hated the fact that you no longer used skirts because of the cold weather, hated that you had to go away for a few weeks because of winter break and, above all, hated those stupid turtlenecks you wore.

Not because you didn’t look good in them — in fact, he had grown to appreciate them over the weeks, the way they made your breasts pop out and how your body felt so comfortable and warm against his — but because it became extremely easy for you to cover up the hickeys he gave you. Which completely missed the point of even having hickeys in the first place.

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” You asked him, fingers pulling slightly on the messy strings of his dark hair. Jungkook was hovering above you in bed, his mouth glued to the skin of your neck, sucking on the flesh. He simply moaned in response, hoping that the roll of his hips against yours would make you shut up. Which obviously didn’t happen. “You better not be doing it.”

Jungkook pulled away from your skin with a pop!, watching the blossoming red that appeared close to your jaw. It would be hard to cover up that one. “And what if I am?” He smirked, placing a kiss against your lips. His cock was deep inside you, and it was incredibly difficult to argue with him when he was fucking you so well. Not that it would stop you from trying. “What are you going to do about it?”

You playfully hit him on the shoulder, the frown on your face only making him smile wider. “You’re such a jerk, I’m going to spend all the concealer I have left with this one,” you complained, and Jungkook hummed and leaned back towards your neck, resuming his devilish ministrations. Only one hickey wouldn’t be enough, Jungkook realized, he wanted you to go out to buy more makeup for that. “What’s the deal with you today?” You tried again.

Jungkook’s irritated groan vibrated throughout your skin, his hands tightening around your hips as a flame of anger sparked inside his chest. His deal was that you had cancelled on him at least three times last week to go out with some stupid guy named Jimin from your Wednesday afternoon class. He knew that he shouldn’t care about it — you two were obviously not exclusive, barely even a thing, and you didn’t seem to give a single fuck when he told you about one of the girls that he was going out with. And yet there he was: pissed off out of his mind because someone else might have interest in you, fucking you hard into the mattress because he wanted you to remember that no one could be as good as he was.

There was also a second layer of indignation when it came to that subject: Jungkook was frustrated with himself because he was balls deep inside your pussy and he couldn’t even focus on it without thinking about your stupid date. It was the fourth week of the semester, he hadn’t seen you for the entirety of winter break, and it was the first time that he was fucking you in your bed (since your roommate was out in some idiotic spiritual retreat). He could actually have you for as long as he wanted, as loud as he wanted, not a single worry about being interrupted. And how was he using that time? Being jealous of a guy he barely even knew, just because he took you out for coffee or whatever.

It really wasn’t his best moment.

“Jungkook, that’s so good,” you cried out, sucking him out of his thoughts. Jungkook grunted at the desperate tone of your voice, his name sounding so perfect coming from your mouth, and he just wanted to hear more of it. His cock was slipping in and out of you with ease, your wetness dripping down his length, and he forced himself to pay attention to you for the rest of the night. “I’m getting close.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook groaned and pressed his forehead against yours — he could tell that already from the way you were tightening so perfectly around him, hugging his cock like you were meant to take it. “You like when I fuck your pussy like this, baby?”

“Y-Yeah, I love it.” You closed your eyes, back arching off the bed as he continued to drill his fat cock in and out of you. No matter how many times he gave it to you, you couldn’t get used to the incredible pressure of his girth against your walls, filling you up so perfectly. “Feels so good…”

“Is this all for me baby?” Jungkook finished his sentence with a particularly hard slam of his hips against yours — you didn’t even need to ask him to fuck you rougher, he already knew that was what you wanted. His eyes were a deep dark storm, glued to your parted lips as you moaned out for him, your perfect little cunt pulsating around him. Jungkook could only think about how wonderful you felt, how he couldn’t find someone better even if he tried. “Is this pussy mine? Was it made for me?”

Jungkook was fucking you so well that you could not help but nod, a pathetic whimper tearing itself from your throat as your hands fumbled to hold onto the nape of his neck. Your nails scratched his skin, the sensation making him groan.

“Yeah, it’s yours.” You said it because you knew that it was all pretend, all his weird possessiveness that he only showed when he was hitting that deep inside you. Jungkook also knew that it was bullshit — but he allowed himself to dive into that fantasy as he felt himself throb inside you. “Fuck, Jungkook, I’m really close.”

But he didn’t relent. Jungkook shoved his head on the curve of your neck, grunting as he quickened his pace in and out of you. He could feel your thighs trembling, your pussy fluttering around him, and yet it didn’t feel like it was enough. “Say it again,” he roared, hands digging to the flesh of your hips. It would leave a mark, both of you were aware of that, and yet there was a shared sense of wonder when you saw the purple bruises that he would leave behind. “Say that it’s mine.”

“This pussy is yours, Jungkook,” you whined, head pressed hard against the soft pillows. At that point, you’d say and do anything he asked you to. “O-Only yours.”

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice hoarse and deep as sin. Jungkook was drilling into you like a madman, hoping that the ache between your legs would be enough to remind you of him, of what he could do to you. He wanted you to keep that in the back of your head next time you had to pick between him and some other dude who wouldn’t know how to treat you. “All mine, this is all mine. Made for me.”

He quickly got lost in his own praises, mind whitening out at the pleasure that monopolized his body. When you came around him, just as perfectly as you had many times before, Jungkook felt a wave of pride washing over him. It pierced its sharp teeth in his flesh, sucked him out of his worries — suddenly he didn’t give a shit about Jimin from your Wednesday class, because he knew that no amount of stupid coffee dates would ever equate to the way he had you. It was just a matter of time before you realized that as well.

He felt you shivering beneath him, the way you always did when your pleasure was starting to become a bit too much. Jungkook leaned back so he could see your face, that blushy mess that got him sinking deeper inside you, the thin veil of tears that swam over your unfocused eyes. He would bet real money that Jimin from Wednesday class wouldn’t get you like that in a million years. Not that he was jealous or anything. It was just a fact.

“J-Jungkook, that’s too much,” you whined.

And he knew that it was, but he also wanted you to feel it all, and wanted you to cum around him as many times as you could. After all, you finally had some alone time, so he was definitely going to make good use of it.

“Take it for me, baby,” he asked breathlessly, the rising pitch of his voice signaling that he was close too. Jungkook could feel his own orgasm growing closer, building up at the base of his spine and tugging at his balls, threatening to overflow. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You bit your lip, fighting against a sob as he continued his frantic movements. You wanted to be good for him, wanted to fight through that sensitivity for him. But sometimes it was hard to focus, and the space between the pain and the pleasure could be a bit too long sometimes. “A-Are you close?” You asked.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t matter,” he spat. Jungkook’s eyes zeroed in on your own, watching as a coat of desperation painted your features. “What’s the matter, baby? You don’t wanna get eaten out after I’m done here?”

“God, Jungkook,” you said. If you weren’t so lost in the afterglow of your orgasm, you’d probably argue with him further, perhaps try and ask for the millionth time what had possessed him. But you seriously couldn’t be bothered with any more arguments and your brain wasn’t fully functional yet, so you settled for a quick and objective, “Are you trying to kill me?”

Jungkook chuckled, lowering himself so he could place a kiss against your lips. “I'm trying to make you feel good. Let me eat my cum out of you, baby,” he teased, feeling as your walls pulsated around him at the idea. The fact that he hadn’t cum yet was a miracle on its own, because he had been about to tip over for a while now. “Unless you want to keep it inside you.”

The interesting part was that Jungkook didn’t fully understand his second option until it had spilled from his lips. Now that it had been spoken out loud, manifested into the universe if you will, it made his cock throb with the mental imagery of you walking around stuffed with his cum, making other guys think they had a chance when you were already his. He’d seriously have to try that sometime.

Before he could stop himself, his hooded eyes centralized on the hickeys he had embellished your neck with, and his marking was enough to make him spill himself inside you, painting your walls with waves of his warm cum. Jungkook called out what sounded like a broken version of your name, throwing his head back and listening to the wonderful whimpers you were producing for him. Just for him.

At that point, both of you were considering buying your roommate something as a way to thank her for her wonderful idea of a spiritual retreat.

Jungkook breathed out hard and removed his cock from your pussy, watching as the white liquid dripped between your glistening folds, accumulating on the sheets. If you weren’t so exhausted, you’d probably have yelled at him for ruining your mattress.

“Have you made up your mind?” He asked, flickering his gaze up at you. You were such a pretty mess, and he lived for the fact that it was all because of him. “Wanna keep it in or want me to eat it out?”

Honestly, he realized there was no wrong choice and, yet, he wanted to know what you would pick.

You bit your lip and, after a moment of hesitation, you answered. “Eat it out,” you said.

Jungkook smirked, lowering his head between your legs. “Good girl.”

Jungkook saw you wearing a scarf the next day and he wanted to smack himself across the face for not considering that possibility. It hid all his efforts to mark you, didn’t make you nervous talking to other people. He could see from the faint coat of sweat on your face that you were feeling hot, but he also saw you smirking at him enough times to know that you were planning to endure that for as long as necessary. He was stupid to believe he’d actually get what he wanted for once: it had been too easy.

He really fucking hated the wintertime.

Check out the rest of the bad influence collection!

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2jaeh · 4 years ago

Text

FREAKS I JUNG JAEHYUN

genre: slight humor, smut, very mature themes

warnings: cheating, slight corruption kink, poly themes, cursing, foreplay, just overall based around hooking up, weed and alcohol

preppy!Jaehyun, Badgirl!reader, bff!Taeyong bff!Ten, Jaehyunxreader, slight taeyongxreader, slight taeyongxten and tenxjohnny,

mentions of Yuta, Hendery and Johnny.

words: 8k

You had always gotten what you wanted, whether it be a hookup, an exclusive invitation or riling up people you hated. But the one thing you wanted most was Jung Jaehyun, the preppy boy who always did what he was told and followed closely behind his girlfriend. You would do anything to ruin him and have your name be the only one that escaped his lips.

A/N: okay so I just want to point out that I don't condone cheating or manipulative methods of any sort. The reader, Ten and Taeyong are very confident sexually with other people, and each other.

0. prequel (taeyong x ten x reader)

1. Freaks pt 1

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This was so out of your character but you just wanted him. You didn’t care if he wasn’t yours to take, you needed him.

Your eyes lifted as the lecture room began to fill in and you unconsciously searched for that tuft of brown hair and set of dimples. You felt your heartbeat speed up when you saw him find his seat two rows down from you, completely oblivious to your staring.

“Still going crazy for Jung Jaehyun I see” you heard a familiar voice sing behind you as they scooted into their seat.

“Ten please shut up someone could’ve heard you”

“Babe I’d be extremely surprised if someone in this room didn’t know you had the hots for Jaehyun” Ten stuck his tongue out, pulling out his textbook from his backpack.

You rolled your eyes knowing your best friend was probably right. You had been crushing on Jaehyun since you laid eyes on him a few months ago after attending one of his basketball games and when he dropped in the winning shot you were fucking hooked.

The only problem was that Jaehyun had a girlfriend, a long term one at that. You didn’t understand what he saw in her. Apart from her looks, she was quite abrasive and had a habit of making everyone around her feel like shit. Jaehyun on the other hand was a sweetheart. He tried his best to meet everyone’s expectations and was able to adapt in many different social circles.

Anyone else knew that going after someone who was in a relationship was a dick move, and you did get to an extent, the whole respectful bullshit or whatever. But you and Ten being the assholes that you were, thought that if there was an opening, it’s not as solid as it should be.

“It’s simple” Ten said as the two of you grabbed ice coffee at the campus cafe, “other people usually just go head on and flirt with someone right off the bat”

He took a sip of his drink and hummed,

“You need to play the field, you need to make them realize that their options are open.”

“Very insightful Dr. Lee” you laughed and hooked arms with him, making your way over to a table that was covered by a cherry blossom tree.

You and Ten noticed Jaehyun and his girlfriend emerge from the lecture hall hand in hand as she pulled him over to her pretentious group of friends.

“I want him so fucking bad” you groaned as you continued watching him be happy with someone else.

“Who wants who so bad ?” You heard a giggle and Taeyong, your other close friend made his way over to your table.

“The never ending Jaehyun and y/n saga” Ten mused, making space for Taeyong on the bench.

“Not him again” Taeyong took a sip of your coffee, “why do you always like those preppy guys ?”

“He’s not preppy! He’s like us! You guys just don’t know the real him” you argued, your eyes still filled with stars as you watched him remove his jacket and flex his arms in his plain white tee.

“Like us?” Taeyong pointed toward Ten, “Ten has fucked half of the swim team and four of them are still trying to get in a relationship with him.”

You snickered as Ten seemed proud of his achievements, smoothing out his hair and smirked, “I find my true love in different ways okay.”

The three of you laughed at Tens words but Taeyongs words didn’t bother you. In no way were you like Ten. You didn’t bother with people you weren’t interested in emotionally let alone physically. Jaehyun was the only spark in your eye and the only person on the entire campus that you wanted.

“Anyway there’s a party tonight at Taeil’s place you guys wanna go ?” Taeyong looked between you and Ten for an answer.

“Yeah fuck it” you responded, popping a piece of ice into your mouth.

“Let’s just get hammered and maybe y/n will realize there’s other men out there other than Jung Jaehyun” Ten pinched your arm to snap you out of another daydream.

You hoped his words were true. You really hoped you could get out of this rut.

——————————-

The cab pulled up at a frat house and the three of you jumped out, dressed up in outfits people were bound to stare down at. This was what you loved most about Ten and Taeyong. There’s no pretending, no reason to hide your true personality in order to please others. You three had fun dressing the way you want, doing whatever the hell you wanted with whomever you wanted.

“Hey y/n if you looking for someone to help you forget...I’m always available” Taeyong growled in your ear as he grabbed your ass.

“Down boy” Ten patted Taeyong’s back as he pulled out a cigarette.

The three of you were quite comfortable sexually with each other too. There had been many drunken nights where your lips were on Taeyong or Ten or Ten and Taeyong on each other. Many people on campus spoke about your scandalous friendship but to you guys it was very natural.

“I’m gonna get us drinks” Taeyong disappeared into the crowd as strangers already started approaching Ten from different directions. You were a bit more lowkey than they were and preferred to stick to the shadows and hang out with the more obscure personalities campus had to offer.

You had found Hendery, one of your art major friends standing against the wall, nodding his head to the music as he dragged in what looked like a blunt.

“Hendery!” You poked him cutely and he pulled you into a tight hug, engulfing you with his marijuana fumes.

“Hey y/n you enjoying yourself ?” He smiled sweetly, his character always being chilled out.

“I’m good” you took the blunt and placed it to your lips as you took in a long pull. Hendery’s stuff was weak but good enough to make you relax under the loud music and bodies of people.

You leaned up against the wall and noticed a familiar face on the far end of the room, beer in hand and nodding his head to the music.

It was Jung Jaehyun.

Your first instinct was to search for his stupid girlfriend but you quickly realized that she and her friends were not at this party.

What the hell was he doing at a place like this ?

You had no idea whether it was the weed or the clouded room but you felt his eyes on you for a brief second, before taking a sip of his drink and brought his gaze back.

‘Fuck he was so hot’ you thought, unconsciously biting down on your lip and squeezing your thighs together.

Jaehyun was dressed in a loose black tee and fitted jeans. His brown hair was messy and his lips seemed swollen from wetting them too much.

Your feet began moving. You maneuvered your way through the crowd and kept your gaze on him until you now stood in front of Jung Jaehyun, the man you have been desperately wanting for two months.

“Hey there” you moved next to him on the wall casually, “you’re in my business class right?”

“Oh yeah you sit in the back ?” Jaehyun replied with a smile and held out his hand, “I’m Jaehyun”

You took his hand in yours and felt a shiver down your spine at the contact.

“I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you Jaehyun” you replied as your eyes drifted down to his lips, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a party like this before ?”

Jaehyun narrowed his eyes at you and chuckled shyly,

“I came here with my basketball friends, you do these kind of parties often ?”

“Yeah most of my friends are here, I was surprised to see a good boy like you here” you kept your eyes focused on the crowd even though you clearly felt Jaehyun shift by your choice of words.

“A good boy?” He lifted his eyebrow.

“Yeah well you’re not friends with my friends and we’re quite bad....I assume you’re one of the good ones” you mused, running your fingers through your hair.

You felt Jaehyuns eyes fall on you briefly, “you don’t seem...bad though”

“That’s because you don’t know me Jaehyun” you smiled sweetly and looked up at him, “can I get your number ? Maybe you can hang out with me and my friends sometime”

Jaehyun shifted awkwardly holding onto his phone but despite having a few drinks he still felt a sense of guilt.

“I - um have a girlfriend,” he said under his breath.

“Jaehyun I asked for your number to hang out at a party like this” you turned to him and pursed your lips, “I don’t have a problem with getting dick if that’s what you’re insinuating”

You watched as he waved his hand, clearly embarrassed and handed you his phone, “I’m sorry I just- here”

Taking his phone you added your number in and sent a text in order to save his number into your phone and handed it back,

“Thanks, I’ll see you around I guess”

Jaehyun watched you disappear into the crowd and he felt his ears heat up after the encounter, you had him in the palm of your hand within minutes.

You already knew he’d be watching. You found Taeyong in the crowd and Taeyong being Taeyong already had his hands on your waist, turning your body so your back was against his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder as he rocked his hips against your ass, placing a soft kiss on your neck as you swayed to the music.

Taeyong knew what you were doing too. He already saw you talk to Jaehyun earlier on and he was more than happy to help his best friend out.

You didn’t bother looking at Jaehyun while you danced with Taeyong but Taeyong did. He kept his eyes on Jaehyun as he marked you as his, biting into your shoulder as his free hand found the lining of your crop top and pushed his hand under your shirt.

Jaehyun bit down on his lip, trying his best to look away as you were completely lost in Taeyongs touch. He realized that you were very different to him indeed, clearly unbothered by what people thought of you.

Even if he were single, he didn’t think he had it in him to make you feel the Taeyong did right now.

————————————————————————

After a long night the three of you headed back to Ten’s dorm room. Crashing onto his bed and pulling off your boots, you sighed deeply as the headache from the party began to set in.

“Hey thank you for that tonight Tae” you winked at Taeyong who was spread out on the floor shirtless, trying to order food.

“The least you could’ve done was help out my damn boner” Taeyong scoffed, “I nearly exploded at the party y/n”

“Was that for Jaehyun?” Ten asked, sitting at his vanity and removed his eye makeup.

“Mmm” you groaned and hugged Ten’s pillow, “I have his number now, not sure if he has the guts to text though since Taeyong was practically fucking me in front of him”

“Hey” Taeyong protested and sat up, “he watched the whole damn thing, he was probably into it.”

Ten tossed you an oversized tee before joining you in bed, “maybe our Jaehyun is a bad boy after all” he teased.

You shook your head and shrugged out of your party clothes and threw on Tens shirt, sinking into the bed and opened Jaehyuns contact.

Ping!

JJH: When’s the next party ?

Holy shit.

————————————————————————

You decided to leave Jaehyun on read for the weekend. On the inside you were screaming but you had to keep your composure. You remembered what Ten had said, ‘you need to find that hole, make them realize their options are open.’

It was already Monday and you had to see Jaehyun face to face for the first time since the party. You walked into the lecture and he was already there, seated up front and his eyes lit up when he saw you walk through the doors.

He shot you a nervous smile and a small wave, making sure it was subtle enough for the people around him to not notice.

As much as you wanted to stare back you kept your eyes focused on the lecture slides in front of you, knowing very well that Jaehyun had turned back for the third time in 30 minutes to look at you.

“Baby boy is thirsty” Ten smirked, leaning into you as he watched Jaehyun turn around again, flustered at Ten staring him down. You playfully nudged Ten, “you're scaring him,” Ten chuckled at your words and returned to his work as you yourself felt a bit bashful that Jung Jaehyun was finally paying attention to you.

Class had ended and you walked over to the usual spot, Taeyong was already sprawled out on the bench taking in the afternoon sunlight. “Do you even try to act normal ?” Ten knocked Taeyong’s leg out of the way and flicked his exposed nipple.

“Ow don't do that it turns me on” he whined,

“Everything turns you on Taeyong'' you giggled and placed a kiss on his cheek before taking a seat next to him. Taeyong growled and pulled you closer to him, straddling the bench, placing his legs on either side of you. Sometimes you wondered what people thought of the three of you. Ten had mentioned once that someone on the swim team thought you guys were in a polyamorous relationship. As much as all three of you fooled around there was only one hookup that led to a threesome, but that was a story for another day.

“I still haven't texted him back” you spoke, stuffing a piece of banana muffin in your mouth.

“I thought you wanted to jump this guy” Taeyong scoffed.

“He’s still in a relationship and even told me so that night” you explained looking over to where Jaehyun was seated with the rest of the preppy business students and his girlfriend, “If he was drunk enough to stay faithful that means I don't have an opening yet.”

“Is that why he keeps looking over here while sitting next to his girlfriend ?”

Taeyong’s words made you look up and ofcourse Jaehyun was looking over at you despite having an arm around his girlfriend. This time it was less subtle than in the lecture room. He talked with his friends but you had his full attention, making sure to look over at your table every few minutes.

“If it isn't my favorite polygamists” a low voice bellowed from behind Ten and the three of you looked up and realized it was Ten’s boy of the semester, Johnny Suh.

“It's really weird when you call us that you know?” Ten rolled his eyes as Johnny hugged him from behind and slid into the seat next to him. Johnny followed your eyes over to where Jaehyun sat and smirked, “Jaehyun ? seriously? You're literally too hot to be chasing someone as boring as him y/n”

“Shut up he is not boring” you popped another piece of the muffin in your mouth.

You studied Jaehyun as you noticed his girlfriend tried to bring his attention back to her conversation, completely unaware that her boyfriend was looking at another girl. Why would she ? She had everything. The perfect grades, the perfect face and body, and the perfect boyfriend. Jaehyun took a look at his beautiful girlfriend as she spoke, he knew why he liked her and why their relationship worked but why did he feel as if he were missing out. His eyes drifted again to that table at the back where the art students sat. They always seemed to have the best time despite half the campus avoiding them or calling them weird for being themselves. A part of him wished he was free to do that too. He was deeply interested in music and the arts, but was scared to share his tastes as he didnt want to be an outcast to his friends. Jaehyun shifted in his seat as he watched that blonde haired guy from the party wrap his hands around your waist, freely caressing your skin in front of everyone as you nonchalantly ate your lunch.

Arin, Jaehyun’s girlfriend stopped her conversation and followed her boyfriend's eyes to the table at the back.

“Urgh those freaks have no shame, imagine what their parents would think of them” she pulled her face as her friends hummed in agreement.

“The other day I saw the black haired guy and Johnny from the basketball team making out in the bleachers” another girl said and Jaehyun noticed Johnny, one of his team mates sitting comfortably with the small black haired boy he always saw you with during your business lecture.

“T-that reminds me I need to tell Johnny about the meeting today” Jaehyun scratched the back of his head, he didn't know why he wanted to go over there but he was curious to know what you all were like during a campus setting.

Arin took a sip of her ice latte and flipped her golden brown hair over her shoulder, “can't you just text him ?”

Jaehyun cleared his throat and found himself standing up, throwing his satchel over his shoulder,

“He doesn't answer his texts, I'll be about five minutes.”

Jaehyun gently stroked Arin’s head as she just shrugged, not really finding him suspicious. Why would Jaehyun be interested in people like that ? He was a good guy and he felt most comfortable with her and their circle of friends.

Meanwhile at your table you four were in deep discussion about Johnny’s little halloween get together.

“Why are you only inviting 20 people ?” Taeyong’s eyebrows knitted together, “that's not a party that's a meeting.”

“Because Taeyong, I want it to be an intimate vibe you know” Johnny answered and gestured with his arms in the air, “I cant stand half of this fucking campus and I just want to hang out with the people I actually give a shit about”

“You only met us like a month ago, how did we make the cut?” You raised your eyebrow at him and smirked.

Ten stood up and threw his hands around Johnny and kissed his forehead, “That's because he met me and realized we're the coolest people on campus” Johnny smiled bashfully, completely smitten by Ten as he nodded, “It's true.”

“Uhm Hi..” The four of you stopped your conversation to look at Jaehyun who stood at your table, hands in his pocket, pressing his lips together nervously which made his dimples more prominent.

“Whats up Jae ?” Johnny greeted as the rest of you exchanged a few glances.

Jaehyun briefly looked over at you but he quickly looked away thanks to Taeyong who was placing open mouth kisses on your neck. You smiled to yourself as Jaehyun squirmed uncomfortably, much like everyone that was ever in the presence of you three. Except Johnny ofcourse, he was a weird one.

“I just came over to let you know that we have a basketball meeting at 3 today” Jaehyun spoke in a surprisingly calm tone.

“Oh cool thanks for letting me know man” Johnny played the part of the oblivious friend really well, “By the way this is Ten, thats y/n and the guy practically having her for lunch is Taeyong.”

Taeyong looked up and smiled at Jaehyun and you squeezed his knee, preventing him from doing or saying anything stupid when Jaehyun broke the silence,

“Oh yeah I actually know Ten and y/n from my business lecture” Jaehyun spoke as his eyes met yours.

Ten noticed the tension between you two and a menacing smirk spread across his face, “Well since we all know each other you should come to Johnny's halloween party Jaehyun”

“Halloween party ?” Jaehyun repeated,

“Yeah you should come along, I mean you were asking when is the next party” you added and Jaehyun felt his ears heat up at your words. He had no idea why it felt almost promiscuous just talking to you.

“I'll let you know the details after the meeting, oh and you're free to bring your girl if you want” Johnny grinned and you don't know why, but his words felt like a stab in the chest.

You all watched Jaehyun nod shyly and retreat back to his friends as the rest of you turned your heads to face Johnny. “Hey I just wanted to let him know that he could,” Johnny stated, raising his hands up to defend himself.

“Well I guess if he does bring her then he’s not interested in you, and if he doesn't….” Ten’s words trailed off as you bit down your lip and you watched Jaehyun turn back to look at you before sitting down next to Arin.

“I guess we shall see” you murmured.

————————————

It was the next day you had just finished all your classes and decided to spend a relaxing evening alone at your dorm. You got into an old band shirt and underwear after a steaming shower and jumping on your bed ready to navigate through your social media.

Ping!

Your phone vibrated and your eyes gleamed at the sight of Jaehyuns name blinking across the screen.

JJH: hey

JJH: so....like how many people are going to this party ?

You lingered on his open message for a while but decided to reply to him this time instead of leading him on.

Y/n: I think Johnny said about 20 people...it’s very small.

JJH: oh I see.

JJH: you’re going with your...boyfriend right ?

Y/n: boyfriend ?

JJH: I think his name is Taeyong

Your lips curled into a smirk. Jaehyun was definitely curious about your relationship with Taeyong, and it could mean he was trying to figure out more about you.

y/n: Taeyong is not my boyfriend

You looked at the three dots that signaled he was typing, it seemed to take a while before your phone finally vibrated again.

JJH: oh, I see. Uhm so do we have to dress up ?

Y/N: yeah ! It’s a Halloween party Ofcourse we have to, did Johnny not tell you ?

JJH: I don’t fully believe anything he says so I just wanted a second opinion.

Y/n: well dress up, or else I’ll be very disappointed Jaehyun...

Another moment of silence this time it was longer than the last one. Finally your phone lit up and Jaehyuns name popped up,

JJH: what are you wearing ?

JJH: I mean like to the party not right now

JJH: like costume ....

JJH: that message came out so weird I’m sorry

You giggled to yourself wishing you were there with him to see his ears redden and him stumble over his words as he got nervous around you. God he was so fucking cute.

y/n: it’s a surprise !

JJH: oh I see..

y/n: I’m sure you and Arin can figure something out, anyways I gotta go...I’ll see you around Jae.

Jaehyun's eyes narrowed on your message. He felt an adrenaline rush while he texted you. To him, you were the coolest girl on campus and he couldn’t believe you even bothered to text him back.

But then his shoulders dropped when he saw Arins name. It was like a dark cloud looming over his head. He had no idea if he should let Arin know about the party, it’s not like she’d agree to come anyway, did that mean he shouldn’t go too ?

———————————-

It was finally the evening of the party and you Taeyong and Ten decided to get ready at your dorm. Ten scoffed as Taeyong emerged from the bathroom in red leather pants and a black harness that covered his bare chest.

“You're supposed to wear a costume you know ?” Ten raised his eyebrow as Taeyong strutted around the room looking like a red light district stripper.

“I AM in costume baby, i'm a devil” Taeyong pouted and placed a pair of novelty devil horns on his head.

“Fuck if this Jaehyun thing really doesn't work out I want a piece of that” you licked your lips as Taeyong’s smirk grew, “I told you all you gotta say when and where” he purred.

“y/n I know you love fucking around with twinks but can you please concentrate on the task at hand ?” Ten grumbled and pushed his phone in front of you, waving Jaehyuns instagram in front of your face.

You bit down on your lip as you noticed Jaehyun posted a semi shirtless picture for the first time and the comments were absolutely wild. Many people thought he was hacked and the others were just asking him to jump them. You also noticed a lot of people tagging Arin under the thirst comments which she replied simply with a like.

“You think he is gonna show up tonight and bring her ?” you pouted while applying a coat of lip gloss.

“Either way baby we will have a good time, I'll guarantee you that” Ten stroked your head before heading to the bathroom to prep his costume. You shimmied into your zombie cheerleader costume, ignoring Taeyong’s whistles as he caught a glimpse of your lacy two piece set. The only person you wanted to see your newly bought lingerie was Jaehyun.

Ten finally emerged from the bathroom in an all black shiny leather pants with a matching crop top long sleeve. He looked absolutely delicious with his hair gelled back and his dark eye make-up accentuated his cat-like eyes.

“And what the fuck are you supposed to be?” you chuckled, mouth still gaping as you took in his gorgeous figure.

“Im a cat!” Ten posed cutely, turning his hands into cat paws and brought them up to his face.

“You look like a dominatrix” Taeyong snorted, earning a flick on the forehead from Ten.

You stood up and smoothed out your extremely short skirt as you slipped into your hot pink platform boots. You were going for a cute zombie cheerleader, tearing up a bit of your clothes gave you an excuse to show a bit of that expensive lingerie.

“Is my outfit okay ?” you chewed on your bottom lip as you turned to face Ten and Taeyong.

“Babe I've never seen you this nervous before” Ten groaned as he wrapped his arms around your waist from behind. It's true, you were a very confident person but you were so clued up on what attracted Jaehyun and what didn't that you began second guessing yourself constantly.

“I...I just want him to like me” You played with the hem of your shirt, when you felt Taeyong stand up and approach the two fo you.

“If he doesn't like you, for you...then he isn't worth it” Taeyong patted your head and his other hand grabbed Ten’s shoulder, pulling the both of you into a tight hug. It felt good knowing you always had them, they were your soulmates, your ride or die, they meant the absolute world to you.

“If it all doesn't work out lets come back here and fuck” Taeyong whispered and you pushed him off playfully, while Ten pulled his face as he returned to his vanity, “classic Taeyong” he shook his head.

The three of you arrived at Johnny’s apartment and you could already hear the chill hip hop playlist vibrating against the door. Ten rolled his eyes as he punched in the door code, “I’ll have to do something about that music,” he tutted, as the three of you walked in greeted by your usual group of friends.

There were a few of Johnny’s basketball mates, the cool ones who snuck around smoking weed with the stoners. You nodded at the familiar faces, Yuta the resident tattoo artist from fourth year, Hendery the distributor from your year and Chaeyoung from Ten’s fashion design class.

Everyone seemed to be in costume, you didn't expect anything less from a group of creatives. Suddenly Johnny emerged from the kitchen holding a few bottles when his eyes lit up at the sight of Ten. Johnny shoved the drinks to an unsuspecting man and jogged over while you and Taeyong tried to stifle your laughter.

“Johnny darling what are you supposed to be dressed as?” Ten mused as his eyes narrowed on Johnny’s selection of outfit.

“Im Tony the Tiger baby!” Johnny flexed, obviously amused by his own outfit as he spun around in his tiger onesie.

“You didn't tell us Johnny was a furry” Taeyong teased as Ten backhanded his abdomen. You could tell that Ten liked Johnny unlike his usual flings. If any of the others pulled this type of stunt he would have walked straight out of this party and called over a side piece.

“Okay Tony the Tiger, can you take a picture of me and my loves for the gram ?” Ten mused and handed his phone over to Johnny. The three of you posed sexily as Johnny hyped you all up, capturing every angle possible. Ten immediately updated the picture to instagram and the likes and comments immediately flew in, asking what party you guys were at. This was how it always was. Nobody wanted to be friends with you guys but nobody wanted to miss out on your adventures together.

Jaehyun took a look at himself in the mirror, adorning his basketball outfit and topped it off with a sweatband around his head. “This is fucking dumb” he thought, second guessing using his team outfit as a halloween costume. The problem was he was told on such short notice that he couldn't really prepare for it. What if their idea of halloween was just dressing up normally, or what if they went all out and he would be the only one in a basic costume ?

Jaehyun sucked in a deep breath as he took a seat on his bed and scrolled through his feed to settle his nerves. While scrolling he noticed one of his friends shared Ten’s post to his story, and immediately clicked it, sucking on his bottom lip as the picture of the three of you unfolded.

You guys were in a different league indeed. Unbelievably confident in your outfits, knowing that everyone was wishing for a chance to be with one of you. Jaehyun’s eyes drifted to you and he felt his breathing hitch, feeling like a prepubescent teen looking at a girl for the first time.

A knock at the door jolted him out of his thoughts and he opened the door to Arin accompanied by three of their friends. Arin reached up and placed a soft kiss on Jaehyun’s lips before entering his dorm and taking a seat on his bed.

“Why are you in your basketball uniform ?” Arin questioned as she scrolled through her phone.

“I...Am going to attend a party..” Jaehyun scratched the back of his head as all eyes were on him. A boy named Minhyuk, Jaehyun knew through Arin cocked his head in confusion, “You're going to a party wearing your uniform ?”

“It's a costume party, I was invited by Johnny” Jaehyun replied to him yet his eyes were Arin waiting for a response. Arin looked up at him and scrunched up her nose, “aren't all those freaks at that party ?”

“Yeah well I'm going for the team, If you want. you can come along” Jaehyun didn't even try to sound convincing, there was no way he wanted Arin or any of his business class friends accompanying him tonight. It didn't have anything to do with you or his odd attraction to the group, it was rather a test for himself, he wanted to see if that kinda lifestyle was what he was craving.

“I’ll pass” Arin chuckled dryly and grabbed her purse before placing a peck on Jaehyuns cheek, “you go for a bit darling, I know it's a team thing, when you're bored come find us at the country club wine night.”

Jaehyun watched everyone leave his dorm and he sighed deeply, still feeling like he lied even though he completely told Arin the truth about his future whereabouts.

“Where is the loverboy ?” Johnny nudged you as you poured yourself another shot of vodka and redbull. You shrugged already deciding on not keeping your hopes up when you heard one of Johnny's frat buffoons scream Jaehyun's name. Spinning on your heels you turned toward the entrance and noticed his shy frame greeting the guys from the basketball team.

“He wore his basketball uniform, Oh my God” Ten snickered along with Taeyong and Johnny.

“He looks hot shut up” You bit down on your lip as your eyes locked with his and he made his way over to you. Jaehyun ruffled his hair as he mumbled a few hellos to Taeyong and Ten before giving Johnny a handshake.

“Glad you made it man, Arin here too ?” Johnny threw his arm around Jaehyun and shoved a beer in his hands. Jaehyun shook his head and took a sip of his beer, “nah it's just me” he spoke and looked over at you. On the outside you probably looked composed but on the inside you were screaming victories. Ten could definitely see the excitement and shot you a wink before clearing his throat,

“Well now that you're here we can finally play spin the bottle!”

“S-spin the bottle ?” Jaehyun chewed on his lip nervously,

“Yeah but like just a few of us come on let's go to Johnny's room” Ten hooked arms with Johnny as he grabbed a few more drinks for you guys to enjoy in privacy.

Jaehyun waited until you were left and the two of you made your way down the hallway to Johnny’s room. You brushed against his bare arm as you walked and looked up at him, “I love your costume, very original” you chuckled and Jaehyun blushed.

“It was short notice, I look stupid but you on the other hand” Jaehyun’s eyes drifted over your figure, “y-you look amazing”

“Thank you Jaehyun.”

You entered the room and noticed Ten had collected Yuta, Hendery, Chaeyoung and one of the fourth years Seungyoun to play the game with the rest of you. Taeyong raised his eyebrow as everyone took a seat in a circle, “Did Ten handpick players for a game or an orgy ?”

Everybody chuckled but Jaehyun shifted awkwardly in the seat next to you. You placed a reassuring hand on his arm and his eyes darted to you, looking like a lost puppy,

“He tends to speak rubbish just ignore him” you smiled. Jaehyun nodded and pressed his lips together as Ten cleared his throat in order for everyone to pay attention,

“Okay please keep the dares spicy but not too spicy we have some taken people in the circle”

Jaehyun looked around the room and noticed the girl called Chaeyoung thank Ten for his words, making him a bit more comfortable that he wasn't the only one in a relationship playing this game. Ten was the first to spin and the bottle landed on Hendery, who was in the middle of lighting a blunt.

“What me first ?” he whined and gave Ten his best puppy eyes in order to go easy on him.

Ten licked his lips and looked around the room, “I dare you to swop boxers with Seungyoun”

The room filled with whistles and disgusted noises as Johnny pointed to his en suite bathroom for the exchange to go down. You all watched as Hendery and Seungyoun disappeared into the bathroom for a good ten minutes and emerged with Seungyoun adjusting his crotch area clearly irritated.

“His fucking boxers are too tight” Seungyoun groaned while the rest of you laughed at his complaints.

Hendery spun the bottle and it landed on you, which made you feel a little at ease as Hendery wasn't the meanest person you knew.

“Do a body shot off of Yuta’s bare body” he said returning to light his precious blunt.

Yuta tore his shirt off within seconds and lay in the middle of the circle with a lemon slice in his mouth. Jaehyun had no fucking idea what a body shot was but he felt his heartbeat speed up as he watched you sprinkle a line of salt down Yuta’s abs and straddle his lap confidently. He had never seen people be this comfortable with each other, he barely even uttered a word of his sex life to any of his friends.

“Yuta get your hand off y/n’s thigh” Taeyong snapped, as Yuta smirked still licking the lemon slice that was placed between his teeth.

You chugged back the shot of tequila and pinned Yuta’s wrists to the floor as your tongue slowly licked up the salt from his body. Jaehyun watched everything intently, you were a pro, so natural and experienced with things like this. He unconsciously licked his lips as you retrieved the lemon slice from Yuta’s mouth, your tongues touching for a brief second before you climbed off him and returned to your seat.

“My turn” you sang and spun the bottle which landed on Johnny. He shot you a dashing smile still sitting in his tiger onesie with his arms wrapped around Ten.

“Since you want to be part of our group so bad, here's an initiation..Kiss Taeyong” you smirked as Johnny’s mouth dropped and Ten burst into a fit of laughter.

Taeyong shrugged and raised his eyebrow at Johnny, to him shit like this didn't phase him at all. Johnny slowly crawled over to Taeyong and hesitantly leaned in, his huge frame comically shaking in front of the small man. Johnny placed a finger under Taeyongs chin and kissed him softly for about a minute until he yelled and stood up,

“He stuck his tongue in my mouth!” Johnny whined,

“And ? How else do you kiss ?” Taeyong rolled his eyes and wiped his lips as the bigger man continued throwing a fit until Ten calmed him down,

“It's your turn baby”

Johnny frowned but spun the bottle, this time it landed on Jaehyun who now sat upright as everyone's eyes were now on him.

“Please go easy on him” you mused and rubbed Jaehyun’s back in order to calm him down.

“Uh...it's okay I can handle it” Jaehyun responded with a small smile and looked up at Johnny.

“Okay” Johnny began, “because you're my homie all you gotta do is take off your shirt and keep it that way for the rest of the game.”

Jaehyun felt the tension as he got to his feet and caressed the hem of his shirt. Everyone watched in anticipation as he slowly lifted his shirt, quickly pushing it over his head and discarded it behind him. You marvelled at his toned body, wishing everyone else were not in the room so you could jump him. Heck everybody could watch, you wanted him so bad.

Everyone whistled as Jaehyun took his seat and his cheeks reddened slightly, he couldn't believe he was sitting shirtless with a group of people he barely knew.

The game went on with various pairings taking part in stupid dares until Johnny called the end to the game because he wanted all of you to socialize with everyone else on the outside but you all knew he just wanted everyone out of his bedroom so he could fuck Ten.

The party moved on and you found yourself lingering in the hallway just sipping on your drink when you noticed Jaehyun watching you from a few feet away. You shot him a smile, giving him an invitation to join you and he finally gathered the courage to do so.

“Hey” Jaehyun smiled and leaned on the wall opposite you. His eyes would briefly move to your body and each time he would mentally scold himself which you noticed and found amusing.

“You know Jaehyun if you find me attractive it's not a crime” you smirked,

“What's in my mind feels like a crime though”

“Oh?” you cocked your head to the side, “and what's on your mind?”

Jaehyun blushed and bit down on his lip, “you don't want to know”

This was it, the opening. You slowly walked over to Jaehyun and when he didn't move you moved even closer, just a few inches away from his body. Jaehyun gulped as he watched you lick your lips seductively and your dark eyes looked up at him.

“Do you want to show me ?” you purred and ghosted your fingers lightly across his bicep.

“Fuck I want to….but”

You placed your index finger to your lips and shook your head, “There's a reason you came over here Jaehyun, and if you cared about your relationship you wouldn't allow me to be this close right now”

You pushed yourself up on your toes and placed your lips against his ear, “I’ll give you one last chance, tell me no and walk out of this party, go back to her and forget about me or stay and show me what's on that dirty mind of yours.”

Jaehyun felt goosebumps on his skin, he had never felt this way with anyone in his entire life. With Arin their sex life was pretty vanilla and whenever he would try to spice it up, she would shut him down and say she wasn't interested. But here with you, he was hard as rock just by your words. He couldn't even imagine what it probably felt like to have you bent over and him have his way with you. The only thing on his mind was ruining your pretty make-up as he took you from behind.

You moved closer again, challenging him in order to make up his mind but he surprised you by licking his lips as he looked down at you with hungry eyes. Within seconds your lips were attached to his and you felt dizzy with ecstasy. He was sweeter than you dreamed and he matched your desperation as he caressed your face groaning into the kiss finally releasing his pent up stress.

You pulled away and Jaehyun whined already missing your lips and you giggled cutely, “before I continue I do want to say that I do like you Jaehyun like fucking really like you”

“You like me ? why? Aren't I too boring for you” his eyes looked at you puzzled. You grabbed his hand and led him into the free bedroom next to Johnny's room and locked the door behind you, drowning out the noise from the party.

“Yeah I like you and no you're not boring you're one of us, I know it”

Jaehyun felt flushed, he somehow felt he was included in something he had always been missing. Despite all the sexual innuendos and the drugs sex and alcohol lifestyle that became the brand of the group he saw something more. Everyone was comfortable and nobody judged him here. Sure he didn't fit in and they could've easily outcast him like the prep group would've, but everyone was so nice to him. On top of all of that he was incredibly attracted to you, and now that you had confessed to him he only wanted you more.

From the first night you approached him he was floored. He wished he swapped places with Taeyong just to make you feel like you were on cloud 9. He loved how unapologetically yourself you were and all he wanted was to learn from you. Learn more about himself and explore freely without feeling boxed in.

“Fuck y/n I like you too, from the moment I laid eyes on you I wanted you” Jaehyun groaned and placed his hands on your shoulders, “I’ll deal with Arin right now if you want me too, Im yours.”

You bit down on your lip and pulled him closer by his waistband as he noticed your eyes darken under the dimmed lights,

“No….I kinda wanna fuck you while she thinks she still has you” You mewled, and licked your lips.

Your words made Jaehyun go crazy and his lips were back on yours this time rougher than before. He practically ripped open your skirt as you rid yourself of your boots,

“Shit fuck im sorry I’ll buy you another” he cursed and you chuckled leading him over to the bed. You discarded his shirt and basketball shorts, purring at the sight of his greek statue-like physique. Jaehyun helped you out of your shirt and ran his large hands over your breasts and lower back as you straddled him. This exchange was different for you too. Many hookups were just filled with lust but none had this type of passion and desperation. There were moments where you and Jaehyun would just exchange gazes, completely in awe of the other person.

You ran your fingers below the waistband of his boxers and felt his hardened member twitch at your touch. Jaehyun moaned into your ears as you teased him, stroking him gently while nipping away at his neck. “You gonna be a good boy and let me mark you ?” you cooed and Jaehyun whined in response, turning his head allowing you to turn his pale skin purple.

“Baby Arin is gonna see what i've done to your neck, should I stop?”

“No please dont...stop” Jaehyun squirmed underneath you completely under your spell.

You pulled down Jaehyun’s boxers and watched his member spring up and hit his abdomen. You quickly rid yourself of your bra and panties and rolled onto your back, spreading your legs and turned your head to Jaehyun,

“Show me how much you want me baby, show me what you were thinking about earlier on” you moaned and Jaehyun thought he was going to explode just by how needy you were for him.

Jaehyun sat up and hovered over you as his eyes softened, running his hand over your body “If its too much, please let me know” you reached up to caress his face, feeling butterflies in your stomach from his sweet words,

“Sure baby, just give me your best I just want you so bad”

Jaehyun’s expression switched and his eyes narrowed like a lion looking at its prey. He brought his hand up and slapped you on your ass which made you moan out loud. He used the opportunity to finally play out his fantasy and flipped you over so you were on your hands and knees, ass on full display for him as he licked his lips at the sight.

He placed two digits in his mouth, lathing them up before pushing them into your already wetness. Your moan earned another smack from Jaehyun and he pumped his fingers in you at an extremely slow and agonizing pace. You whined into the pillow and he smirked, he couldn't believe he got you to beg for his touch like this.

“Baby I don't have a condom” He mumbled, still keeping his fingers inside of you as you whined beneath him,

“I'm on the pill, just cum wherever you want” You groaned as you felt Jaehyun’s fingers move a bit faster.

Jaehyun growled at your words and without warning he replaced his fingers with his member and slammed into you, grabbing both your hands and retrained them behind your back. He marvelled at the site of your face pressed into the bed as he restrained your touch and fucked you from behind.

“That feels so fuckiing good Jae” you cried, the sensation was already too much for you to handle but you tried your best not to chase your orgasm just yet.

“You're so tight fuck” Jaehyun groaned as he felt you squeeze around him sending his mind into a frenzy. Jaehyun pulled out of you and flipped you back over, entering you while your thighs locked around his waist. Your eyes were locked on him as he fucked you harder than anyone has before, that shy boy he was a few hours ago was completely gone.

“Are you ready to cum baby?” Jaehyun hummed in your ear as he still pounded into you mercilessly and wrapped his hand around throat.

“Y-yeah” you managed to say, feeling as though you were going to see fucking stars any second.

Jaehyun bit into your shoulder as he used all his energy to bring to your orgasm before he himself exploded. You finally sighed deeply signaling your orgasm had reached and Jaehyun pulled out of you, coming undone all over your stomach, the sight of him totally fucked out was absolutely delicious.

Jaehyun watched you swipe your index finger across your stomach and bring it to your mouth, tasting him as if it was the sweetest thing in the world.

“Fuck…” he watched you, already feeling like you were about to make him as hard as a rock again.

You wrapped your hand around his neck and pulled him in for a soft yet passionate kiss. Jaehyun broke away and quickly got tissues to clean the both of you up before collapsing in the bed next to you.

“That was the best fuck i've had in my entire life” he sighed and placed his arm around your head and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Same for me baby, but let's get dressed before one of my crazy friends decides to join us” you giggled and threw him his boxers.

You and Jaehyun dressed up and you managed to safety pin the skirt rip Jaehyun had made, still hearing him mutter apologies as the two of you made your way back to the party.

The two of you found the main group hanging around the kitchen snacking on pizza until they saw the two of you and everyone started howling and whistling.

“Can you guys shut the fuck up” You rolled your eyes as you grabbed a slice and rested your head on Ten’s shoulder. Johnny went in and high fived Jaehyun, “damn didn't think you had it in you brother” Johnny patted his back as Jaehyun slipped into the seat next to you and held your waist.

“I guess Jaehyun is one of us” Taeyong said, quite impressed by the outcome.

“I told you guys, oh wait” You stopped to pull out your phone and turn on the front facing camera, “smile”

Jaehyun chuckled and leaned closer into the frame as the flash blinked, just before the shutter went off you turned to him and licked his cheek seductively. Taking a quick look at the picture you smirked as you uploaded the picture to your instagram and watched as your whole timeline exploded with the scandalous picture.

You held the phone up to Jaehyun as he watched the comments flooding in, many people mad at his adultery and many people surprised he managed to even pull a girl like you and gave him props.

“Welcome to the freaks club Jung Jaehyun” you smirked.

Taeten x reader prequel here

#jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #nct127 smut #nct smut #nct scenarios #taeyong smut #ten smut #wayv smut #nct127 drabble #jaehyun au #jung yuno #jung jaehyun #nct au #yuta smut #nct reactions

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lestwritewhilewaitingforajobcall · 3 years ago

Text

The Spark That Split the Seas - Poseidon x Reader x Thor

(A/N)

Hey guys I’m back! I’ve been grinding hard for a new character that I’d gotten in this game, Genshin Impact, so I’m sorry for the absence! Anyways, as always, I want to thank you all for the support on my past two stories and on my account, I truly appreciate every one of you! On a story-related note, since I’d mentioned on my previous post that I had a lot of Poseidon x Reader x Thor fics written in my drafts, I decided to post one so you guys could also join me in the feels! Any feedback would be appreciated! This was originally shorter than the final story you’re seeing now, as I’d first only written their dialogues, but as usual, I excitedly itched into making a story out of it!

This is for entertainment only. Record of Ragnarok belongs to Shinya Umemura, Takumi Fukui and Ajichika. I also do not own you, the reader.

The Spark That Split the Seas

Poseidon x Reader x Thor

For more than all the millennia the gods and other species alike had known the lonely kingdom of Atlantis, never once did the crashing waves gave way to the chirping of the largest Albatrosses until now. Otherworldly flying creatures joined with the familiar exclusively earthly ones in enjoying the ebb and flow of the ocean, albeit this time, the hungry ocean appeared more satiated and seemed to follow a regular pattern ‘from sudden crash to a long calm, to crash again then back to another lengthy calm;’ life in the sea rejoiced in this odd occurrence.

Beautiful yellow sun rays poured through the stained-glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope pattern on the large interiors of the kingdom ruled by the god of the seas, and catching the reflection of his nonchalant visage. The long, elegant dining table filled with every kind of seafood delectable imaginable also fell victim to the light, along with a figure that sat down opposite, whose invitation was clear.

Hidden from this heavenly atmosphere were the prying eyes of a little messenger bird who stood unobtrusively behind one of the tall pillars near the far end of the room, halting his slide just in time to witness this miracle:

The living bearer of the most fearsome title, the ruler of both this grandiose palace of the most precious gems and coral and all the oceans and waters, the almighty Poseidon, though against all reason and self-proved authority whatsoever, against the epics of Greek poets, was indulged, seemingly willingly, in the pleasure of having another’s company. In the shadows, Hermes’ red eyes shot wide open in shock.

Poseidon, the ever abrupt and rude god who had deemed most beings to be below him, received a guest, a still breathing one at that.

What in the gods’ name?

In a tone of haughty contempt, a grunt escaped from Poseidon’s lips. Finishing chewing the last bite of delicious food in your mouth, you nodded your head in earnest agreement with his point. Your next words were uttered with the firmness of an old sage who had all the answers, your beliefs shaped by the countless lifetimes you had lived.

“Existing is painful.” Your shoulders bobbed with your chuckle.

Although Poseidon felt a small measure of relief−a feeling that by habit had always been easy to brush-off with a condescending thought, his face betrayed nothing as his stoic features remained still. “If you agree, then why not allow me to kill you this instant?” As if to emphasize his strength, the crashing sound of dreadful combat between waves and rocks rang in the air, and you almost wished that a low rumble of thunder accompanied it, finding beauty in its loud peals, and additionally giving a volume of inspiration to Michelangelo below.

Despite your gaze being unrequited, you were sure you had the god’s attention. Since arriving here, Poseidon noted that your expression had always been smoothed into a calm, smiling one. “If you had intended to kill me, we would not be having this conversation right now.”

Poseidon sat rigid and silent.

“It’s a comfortingly tragic drama, my circle of life. I may not have been lucky to acquire a life as long as that of the gods, but I have definitely lived more times than you have.” Your words were so nonchalant, for a second there Poseidon thought you were kidding.

“That is for the simple fact that you mortals are weak, pathetic.” Lips as pink as young petunias touched the clear edge of the wine glass as Poseidon’s eyes closed, content to give over to listen.

“Yes, we are.” You paused. “But because of this frailty, we learned to adapt, evolve.”

“There is no need for evolution if you are perfect from the moment of conception. Hence why gods such as I, will always be above you.”

“You’re correct. Humans will never become gods after all,” Again, Poseidon found himself absorbing your words like a sponge. At the same time, he experienced an occasional sharp prick at the edge of his emotions, as if signaling him to pull back. “The same as gods will never become like humans.”

“Extremely foolish of you to think that trash is worthy of the shiniest Orichalcum. Your race has been created by us, for us, and will therefore always be inferior.”

“Humans are inferior in all aspects, this, is a fact. It is hence no accident that there is a history of rebellion and consequently, a false notion of superiority. But to be able to look beyond this, is to understand that we never truly intended to surpass animals nor the gods themselves. The nature of our desire: everything was meant for either survival or man’s search for meaning.

“We are by nature flawed and inconsistent creatures. And as you have no doubt seen for yourself as well, despite reaching all our goals, achieving our wildest dreams, we have never reached a position where satisfaction is achieved.” Keenness made your words sound almost heroic. There was a twinkle in your eye and a lilt in your voice, and Poseidon found that now he had a much clearer picture of your reputation for an irrepressible desire to see what is beyond your reach as you questioned: “If I may ask, as I have seen the gods share this sentiment of looking for meaning, do you feel an inkling of the same?”

When Poseidon had put the wine glass down, he hesitated a moment, his supposedly closed mind wavering between doubt and certainty. He would never come to understand this, nor admit to feeling this dissonance, but at last, he shook his head at his consideration, trying to reduce the unpleasantness he felt by the same way he had always used to get out of extremely rare difficulties.

“Do not disrespect me, mortal.” He knew himself that it was an empty threat.

“Those were never my intentions.” You bowed with great respect, but there was at the same time apparent in your manner the consciousness that while Poseidon would never in any way confirm your statement, he did not necessarily refute it. Your heart rose in gratitude as you regarded him with a look of affection, believing in your intellectual companionship.

“Lord Poseidon, as the fearsome god of the seas, what is the meaning of life for you?” The god surveyed your reflection in one of the golden plates, and maybe it was because he had acted in a charitable way towards you, but he saw brightness, a refreshing difference, as if there were no heavy shackles to weigh you down.

“My husband has always been in search of a worthy opponent. What about you?”

It was like a pin came dangerously close to the rational bubble of Poseidon’s beliefs. But then your words penetrated his mind, and he berated himself for almost falling prey, yet…

“Perfection.” Poseidon blurted out loud, full of self-indulgence, but uncomfortable with the thought of pity reeking from his pores, a role that was clearly uncharacteristic of him.

Tilting your head, your brows meshed inquisitively upon hearing this. “This presents the conundrum; you are already perfect, as should all the gods. Since you have explained, gods have always been pristine, perfect, the moment you all were born.

“So, if you have already achieved the meaning and purpose of your life, what is there left to live for?” There was something entrancing in your guileless form, and Poseidon was displeased that another should feel such an interest in your wise, unguarded character. “And if gods have already reached perfection, why is there an endeavor still for the dross of earth?”

For the first time in Poseidon’s life, he was receptive of contraries. Not one single time, had he ever been in the position where he listened, much more considered the act of interpretation. What he said goes, but for some frustrating reason, he was coming to terms of mutual respect; whenever he was sitting opposite you, chin in hand, the more he caught the flame.

Quickly, he stopped that train of thought and he seamed his mouth, stoic. Only his eyes betrayed a spark of defiance. “Stop asking ridiculous questions.”

Again, you bowed. “I apologize if I have overstepped such boundaries.”

“You better be.” With a look of eager inquiry, Poseidon asked, “Why are you not afraid of me? Is it because you are confident Thor would protect you?” One thing that distressed him was that the more he was alone with you, the more he saw your hands, always ungloved, noticed the wedding-ring on your finger. That closed circle excluded him, his face registering the insult. “As expected from a repulsive weakling,”

“No. I know he would be there for me whenever I should need him, and also the times when I don’t.” You said still a smile on your mouth.

Although you were unaware of the eagle eyes that were watching your every move, you had the instinct. You did not need all the information, and you had nothing to hide. Your shoulders were loose, back wasn’t ramrod straight and you exuded a carefree attitude. “The sole reason why my fears have dissipated is because perhaps, I enjoy your conversation.”

To say this whole exchange took Hermes by surprise would be an understatement. After the initial expression of shock, he laughed lowly.

You continued, “I have already accepted your beliefs. No one is entitled to those except yourself.

“If I were to die from imparting what my beliefs are, that is simply fate, a tragedy, but nonetheless, fate. Of course, I would try my best to avoid disappearing from this lifetime, seeing as I have made a promise with my husband, to continue to fight for my life, shall needed, until the very end.” Poseidon’s grip tightened the slightest bit.

“I believe that despite our obvious differences, we are simply two being who each have our own unique experiences that shape our views and beliefs. For hundreds of millennia, I’d seen calamity from all angles; mainly conflicts over a universal truth,

“But so long as there are questions, there will never be one solid concrete truth. And I’m okay with that.” You concluded.

Compliments never rolled off Poseidon’s tongue easily, since in his view they were nothing but hollow words. But this time, he could hardly slip a word in bad taste. He thought it pleasant to hear you, but it could not distract him from the uninvited presence in his throne room.

“You’re a heretic.” His usual strong voice beckoned your attention, discerning the sternness on the table of his expression to be forced. No matter, you had just enough of a last glimpse to see his face looking younger in repose.

“I have been labeled as such.” You noticed the unique rhythm of the crashing waves seemed to have settled along the sand grains, and you admitted it was so beautiful and timeless.

“You’re dismissed.” Poseidon believed in being straightforward with affairs. Since the conversation has ended, the final interchange of words was not likely to be a substantive one. Though this was his original reason, the face at the forefront of his mind right now was not yours but Hermes’.

You stood up and curtsied to show your gratitude. “Very well. It was splendid to be in your company this afternoon.”

Blue eyes followed you as you began walking away, and he watched you until you went out of sight when you began to ascend the Skíðblaðnir, a ship so completely reserved only for you by the Kingdom of the Norse. Then Poseidon’s ears turned toward the messenger’s direction.

Hermes quickly dashed to Poseidon and knelt to greet him with such a great respect akin to the expectations all elderly gods have always expected of their younger ones.

“We gods are perfect beings from the very start; therefore, we do not plot schemes nor engage in disagreements.” The implication registered with a jolt, and Hermes felt his mouth open as the real reason for your invitation became clear. He fought the urge to look at where Adamas had died brutally as a lowlife, not failing to recognize that this was the exact opposite of that faded history.

Finding quiet when Hermes immediately left, the god of the seas stared at his dominion, taking deep breaths of the air, not feeling the normal icy sting carried by the ocean. Over again he dwelt upon in his conversations with you, interested to find out if the Norse god of thunder had been able to sustain a similar type of conversation.

The very first quiver of interest sparked through Poseidon and though he did not recognize it nor perceived it, he understood the most important things, the only ones he ever needed to:

You did not seek validation nor attention. You had no fear of death, neither of the hardships of life.

Your depths of wisdom were unparalleled throughout the realms, which he would comment on its wasted potential, however, he knew Hermes already understood that part of it.

And the god of messenger did, as the word got around slowly but surely:

“There would always be those who dare to brave the ocean’s roar, but there was only one who withstood it.”

#poseidon x reader #thor x reader #snv x reader #snv poseidon #snv thor #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv poseidon x reader #snv thor x reader #record of ragnarok poseidon x reader #record of ragnarok x reader #record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok thor x reader #poseidon x reader x thor #snv poseidon x reader x snv thor

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nctsworld · 4 years ago

Text

spin me right ‘round

✩‌ johnny ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ record store owner!johnny | fluff | smut | 4k‌ ‌

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ buying from the local records shop leads you to eventually bed the hot owner on the night of your first date. WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌smut (in the second half), oral s*x (f and m receiving), f*ngering, johnny has a big d*ck and f*cks you hard???, office s*x in the epilogue (kind of) RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen @sehunniepot (thought you might be interested in this nikki 👀)

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t share or repost without credit!

Opening the store’s door, the ringing of the bell above you signals your entrance.

You moved into the neighbourhood recently and since someone gifted you a record player for your last birthday, you thought it’d be a quaint idea to drop by the local records shop that you always pass by on your way home.

Rows and rows of vinyl records, organized both alphabetically and by genre, welcome you with open arms, along with a faint musty smell, likely due to the faded, vintage records hanging between the posters on the cream walls.

The outside of the store is misleading to its size; there’s enough space here for at least thirty people easily. However, besides you, it looks like there’s only one other customer in the shop.

Although your surroundings captivate your senses, the striking blond man bent over the rock section in the middle of the shop is the true cynosure of your eyes.

His long fingers flutter seamlessly over the records, seeming to be on a dedicated search to find one in particular. He towers high over the low stacks and oozes coolness with a thumb stuffed in his front pocket and donning a stylish green beanie atop his medium cut locks.

Not to mention that his jeans tug perfectly over the curvature of his prominent ass, but you merely steal a glance or two at his backside as you stroll towards the pop section.

Okay, maybe three glances.

With your back facing the man, several minutes pass as you rummage through the sea of mainstream music, ranging from recent to old, but all the while pleasing to your tastes.

“See anything you like?”

Your eyes meet the figure standing nearby with a hand on the edge of one of the stack dividers. His smooth voice matches his strong aura and his gorgeous face, which you’re now blessed to be viewing up-close.

Your gaze pursues downward, soaking up his sturdy frame hidden behind his flattering clothes. Darting your eyes up his lengthy body back to his face, you lick your lips and swallow, in hopes to dampen the sudden dryness in your throat, and naturally raise the corners of your mouth.

“Yeah—” You, you think in the back of your head and execute a nod, “—there are a few things.”

He smiles endearingly towards the floor before glancing back up to you. You wonder if he can read your thoughts, or maybe it’s simply written all over your face.

Releasing his grip, he says, “Take all the time you need. If you need any assistance, let me know."

Your eyebrows perk up in realization. “Do you work here?”

“Yeah.” Bobbing his head, he runs a hand over his beanie. “I’m the owner of the store.”

“Oh, wow,” you exclaim, jaw hanging slightly. “You’re so young, I wouldn’t think someone in their 20s would have their own store, especially one like this."

A frown falls over his face, and in that moment, you knew you fucked up any chance you had with him.

“Yeah, 26 to be exact,” he shrugs, tight-lipped, prior to the folding of his arms. His eyes become slits of bitterness. “Thanks for the ageism."

Immediately shaking your head at the misunderstanding, you stammer, “I didn't mean it like that—"

The owner’s expression melts in an instant and a warmness emanates from him once more. The knot in your chest loosens at the sight and relief waves over.

“I'm just playing with you, don’t worry."

He opens his mouth, about to continue, but his attention is interrupted by the ringing at the door, and you turn to see another customer over your shoulder. The attractive individual begins to stroll over, but still faces your direction, beaming.

“Well, if you decide to get anything, you know where to find me, and I'll ring it up for you."

With puffed cheeks, you nod and watch him greet the incoming patron. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind you, you shift toward the records again and browse for a little longer.

Finally deciding on a few choices, you walk toward the front register and peer over at the beanied blond. In the classical section, he’s listening intently to the bumbling customer. Not wanting to disturb them, you lay the vinyls on the counter and thankfully find a pen and a stack of sticky notes upon it.

After sticking the following note on the top vinyl cover, you head out of the store:

“Put these on hold for me? I'll be back for them. Thanks! -Miss Ageist”

“Well, if it isn’t Miss Judgmental."

A couple of days later, you drop by the store again and find the spirited owner at the front counter. Today, he’s channeling his inner grunge style, adorning a half-up, half-down ponytail and a loose white t-shirt over a tight, long black sleeve shirt. Is it possible for him to look even cuter than he did last time?

“Sorry again for that,” you scrunch your nose at the memory. He grabs your records from beneath the counter and rings them through. “You just look so young to own a store.”

The blond airily laughs, “I'm gonna take that as a compliment."

He spots you twisting your mouth to one side and nodding shyly. “It is."

As you pay for the items, he gestures to your vinyls on the counter. “Good choices, by the way.”

“Are there bad ones?” From the pay pad, you glance up at him and he’s feigning a hurt look.

“Oh, most definitely.”

You banter with a tilt of your head, “Isn't music subjective though?”

“Not to me. I am the king of music taste."

Both parties exchange laughter while you wait for the transaction to process. Once it finishes, he rips the receipt and places it into the bag with the records.

“I mean, I do own a records store, so I think I should know."

Flashing you his pearly whites, he hands the filled bag over to you.

“Here you go, Miss Judgy Pants.”

“Actually, you can call me—” You properly introduce yourself.

He leans back a little, straightening himself and tucking his thumbs into his pockets.

“I'm John, but you can call me Johnny."

With a glimmer in your eye, you question, “Is Johnny exclusive to me, or does everyone else also call you Johnny?”

His eyebrows raise, impressed by your straightforwardness. “I only let the pretty girls call me Johnny, if that’s what you’re asking.”

The wink he gives is short-lived, but it’s enough to cause heat to blossom over your cheeks. You brush some hair behind your ear.

“So, Johnny,” you enunciate, indulging in his name. “When does the store close?”

You lift up your bag and cheekily add, “Gotta know when to break in to steal more vinyls."

Johnny chuckles, and your heart bursts knowing you’re the reason behind it. Looking aside, his hand rubs the counter casually and you can’t help but stare at his large palm dominating the surface, along with his elongated fingers. Eyes blinking rapidly, you attempt to break the fantasy assembling in your brain—his hands are the guest stars alongside (and within) your body in the leading role.

“I can close whenever I want to, but thanks for the heads up; I'll make sure to keep you away from the store,” he jokes.

Catching your gaze, one of the sides of his mouth lifts. “Why do you ask?”

Shrugging nonchalantly as you play with the handles of your dangling plastic bag, you reply, “Just wanted to know when the cute worker got off so I can potentially go on a date with him.”

You scan around as if someone else is there in the empty store besides the two of you and point your thumb to one side, whispering teasingly, “Not you, but the other guy.”

His tongue grazes against his bottom teeth, nodding understandingly with a deeper smirk. “The store closes at nine usually, but I can make an exception for him to get off earlier."

Satisfied with Johnny’s answer, you bounce your head and make your way backwards toward the door.

“Sounds good, I'll be here at eight for him tomorrow night. Maybe I'll see you around then, too.”

Granting him a wink of your own, you turn on your heels and leave. Intrigued, Johnny watches you disappear down the street through the store window.

At 7:58 the next evening, you show up to the store.

A customer is at the front counter finishing a purchase. As they pay for the products, the worker takes notice of you, smiling in recognition. You return the same, beaming back at him, and casually stride over to a random section to wait until they’re done. They make some small talk, so you delve in the opportunity to admire Johnny’s outfit for tonight—a tight black t-shirt that showcases his blatant pecs and a loose red plaid shirt overtop of it.

When the customer exits, you make your way over to him as he puts on a light jacket. You lean your elbows onto the counter.

“Surprised to see you here.”

“Likewise," he jests back, snaking out of the counter to be in front of you. You glance at him, consuming the tall drink of water.

Nodding to the door, you ask, “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”

Johnny hums affirmatively and you follow behind him outside as he flips the open sign and locks up the store.

“So, where we heading off to?”

Informing him of what you had in mind, the two of you decide to take his car to the downtown pier. Once there, both of you grab take-out and eat together at a bench table under the clear sky and dazzling stars. Conversation comes easy, making the night fly by fast.

While talking with him, since his hair flows freely today, he sometimes shyly brushes some of it behind his ear. Although you’re listening intently, you also ponder how it’d be if you ran your fingers through his soft, silky locks.

Dinner eases into dessert, with the two of you having ice cream side by side on the pier railing, looking out towards the twinkling water. By the time you’re halfway finished with your cone, you hint at not wanting to end the night just yet. Agreeing with your sentiments, Johnny makes the suggestion of going back to the store.

After finishing the ice cream, you head together back to his car. The back of your hand brushes up against his. Taking a chance, you curl the tips of your fingers around his, half-holding his hand.

Pressing up against his arm, you whisper, “Thought you said you gotta keep me away from the store."

He peers down at the partial hand holding and the grin he gives you reaches his eyes. He gives your hand a small squeeze, ensuring the burgeoning attraction is mutual.

He whispers in reply, “At least this way I can keep an eye on you."

At the shop, Johnny locks the door from inside, in case of any wandering bodies, and blasts some upbeat, electronic music onto the store speakers. Intercepting your hand, he guides you to the back corner of the store and starts to dance with you.

At first, your bodies are separate vessels, grooving to the beat of the music, but as the songs play on, you gradually gravitate towards each other. Soon enough, one hand settles comfortably upon your waist, the other on your hip, while yours are hooked around the nape of his neck. Before you know it, you merge together as one with parted lips, finally satisfying the tension in the air and within your bodies.

The kissing is intense, electrically charged and sending currents to the tips of your fingers. Although you’re barely acquainted, you two kiss like you’ve been deprived of each other your whole life—every kiss and every touch quenching your thirst for one another.

Wanting to change it up, you step over to an empty counter and hop onto it. Johnny steps in the space between your legs and his lips meet yours again. You cup his face, clutching onto his strong features, and occasionally run a hand through his hair to caress his head.

You answer inwardly to your previous thoughts, confirming the silky texture of his hair, and your touch relishes in his golden locks.

Suddenly, his mouth channels hunger onto your neck and the electric currents divert directly to your rising arousal. At the sensation, you rashly grind your hips into Johnny’s body, and he groans heavily in the crook of your neck.

He mumbles into your skin, “Do you wanna take this further? My place is nearby."

Sighing further into his embrace, you half-jokingly reply, “You know, I was really looking forward to getting fucked in a records store."

He easily breathes, “We can do that next time, I promise."

You snicker. “Aren’t you a little presumptuous?”

Tugging his shirt by the neckline, you force him to leave your neck and to greet your mouth instead. Pressing the top of your forehead against his, you match his gaze.

“And what if I don't like you after tonight?”

Something in you already knows that won’t be true, but you mischievously ask regardless.

The simper Johnny flickers is enough to send another wave of bolts downward to your core.

He peels his head away to bring it beside your ear. His thumb on your thigh may be gently rubbing you, but his following assurance is hoarse, absolutely drenched in pure lust.

“Oh, you're definitely going to like me after all the things I do to you tonight."

You barely have an opportunity to scan around his bachelor pad because his lips capture yours upon arrival. In his entryway, Johnny entangles with you, pushing you up against the wall. Impatiently, he drags you to his bedroom for the long-awaited spectacle of the night.

After hurrying to turn on his bedside lamp, Johnny presses his weight against yours on his bed, embracing the full body contact. His lips continue to attack the terrain of your skin as he denudes you. You hum softly as he pursues south to your aching desire. Hoisting your backside and with his assistance, you’re finally completely bare.

Sitting up at the edge of the bed, Johnny pulls his top layers off, revealing a sculpted physique, the kind that artists muse and obsess over. You knew he was fit from how his clothes constantly hugged his body, but this was just insane.

“Holy fuck,” you murmur, staring blankly.

Chuckling, he does the same bashful gesture from dinner—tucking some of his hair behind his ear. The gentleness is a contrast that nicely compliments his Adonis qualities. His soft side is flipped onto its backside in a second as he begins to creep his way over between your legs, his eyes darkening.

Upon resting on his chest, you didn’t notice it before, but there’s a hair tie on his wrist, which he uses to effortlessly make himself a quick ponytail.

With anticipation, you sigh into the kisses he leaves on your inner thigh, making his way toward your pulsing sex. When his tongue issues the first swipe, you inhale sharply with fluttering eyes. Johnny isn’t in a rush, taking his sweet time to lazily lap up your slick and learning what incites you.

Once he has a better understanding of your desire, he dives in and devours you whole.

Realization sweeps over as to why he has to put his hair up.

In accompaniment to the painting of your folds, Johnny spreads them gently and ensures he dunks his tongue in your wetness. One of your hands drift away from the bed sheets to one of his snaked around your upper thigh, clutching onto his fingertips in reaction to the swift rotational swirls on your raw flesh.

He draws back, lips lustrous from your nectar, and hastily replaces his mouth with two fingers.

Your half-lidded eyes shoot wide open. His long, thick fingers fill you greatly, scissor you so far in your sex, so much that you fear what his cock is like if this is how his digits feel.

You’re overcome with bursts of pleasure. Further bursts ensue as Johnny tongues your clit alongside the fingering. Your throaty cries and the squelches of your pussy is melodious to his ears, better than playing his favourite vinyls on the best record player he owns. The lewdness of it all overwhelms his jean-bound arousal, so Johnny retaliates by grinding against the bed.

After Johnny retreats, he stands by the foot of the bed and starts unbuckling his belt and pants. You crawl your way over, still panting and reeling from the rush of your high. As you reach him, he drags his pants and boxer-briefs towards the floor in one-go, freeing his unsurprising lengthy girth.

On your knees, hunched over his cock, you chuckle in disbelief. “Now that’s unfair.”

He watches in amusement as you examine his desire with delight, before taking it into your hand, pumping it languidly. “What is?”

You peer up, cocking an eyebrow. “Seriously? You’re hot, own a record store, really funny, and you’re packing. God really has his favourites.”

Johnny’s about to respond, but his brain short-circuits momentarily at the pad of your thumb rubbing his precome over the tip of his blunt head. He cranes his neck back, exhaling a groan.

“Well, what can I say? Guess I’m just-fuck—”

You suck the words out of him. Literally.

Your warm embrace encompasses his entirety, possessing a strong hold over him. Since you can’t possibly take him fully into your mouth, your fist solves your problem by stroking him by the base. Aiming to please, especially after his oral act from earlier, you slurp and bob your head mercilessly, disregarding the saliva leaking down the sides of your mouth.

One of Johnny’s hands arranges your hair in a make-shift ponytail to get a clearer view of the obscene display. His hazy eyes skim over the gorgeous curves of your bent back and ass jutting high up in the air. His breathing turns heavier and he’s about to tug on your hair, motioning for you to slow down, but you thankfully come up for air just in time.

The stately figure attacks your lips with urgency. The kiss is wet and messy from going down on one another, but it merely adds to the intensity. While lip-locked, he lowers you into his pillow once more, then stretches an arm out to his bedside stand to fish out a condom.

He nimbly rolls on the cover, but is confused to find you back on your knees instead of laying on the bed. You grasp him by the wrist and press your fingers against his firm pecs, indicating to him to recline backward. In awe, he obediently obliges.

Hovering over him, you suck in a breath as you line your sex up with his, cognizant that you need to acclimatize to his size. You steadily sit onto his length and when it finally reaches the end, you release a piercing groan at the deep sensation.

For a bit, you don’t move too much to get used to his great desire. In the meantime, your fingers wander over the chiseled flesh in front of you—his defined, veiny arms; his solid chest; and the valleys of his abs.

Once you think it’s been enough, you transfer more weight onto your knees and slide on his cock with more vigor. You throw your head back in pleasure.

On the other end, Johnny’s gaze wavers between the main action, your bouncing breasts, and your supple neck. He can’t see your face clearly, but he knows you must be enjoying this as much as him by the breathy moans that follow each thrust.

When your legs start to tire, Johnny tries to hold you close and roll you over onto your backside. You both giggle at the unsuccessful attempt to keep himself still inside of you, but that’s an easy fix. Despite just having him within you, you gasp again at the penetration. Him being on top hits you at a different angle and you truly feel the length of his inches.

Johnny reaches down to meet your lips. You brush your fingers over his pulled back hair as he consumes your existence. In addition to each passing drive of his body into yours, you also grip harder onto his hair in ecstasy, which leads to the unraveling of his long locks upon your face. The gold ocean of silkiness drowns your senses, the strands stroking your skin like extra caresses.

Retreating back onto his knees and raking a hand through his tousled mane, his hands then attach to the flanks of your body and he pounds you breathless, leaving you heaving for air.

In your dazed state, you desperately grab on to whatever you can—the sheets, his upper frame, his ass, anything. Throughout it all, your core contracts even tighter over the way his clavicle, tendons, and muscles protrude and flex like they’re about to break through his skin.

At this point, you’re beyond delirious and definitely beyond gratified. You assume he’s about to finish when he decreases his pace and bends closer to you, but instead, he continues to still move inside of you.

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ,” you gasp and grunt between his rough, buried thrusts. “How are you not close?”

“I’m not ready to be done with you yet, beautiful,” Johnny rasps into your ear. You catch a glimpse of his cocked eyebrow and smirk. “Unless you can’t handle me?”

Denying his accusation, you haul his cheeks to yours and kiss him fiercely.

And with that, Johnny’s weight is on his knees again and he fucks you like there’s no tomorrow.

However, Johnny might’ve been right because it doesn’t take long for you to beg repeatedly for him to come.

“So, what’s the verdict? Still like me after that?”

Both individuals are still nude on the bed, but now covered by a blanket. Resting on his chest, you drum your fingers over his skin in thought (as if you need to even think about an answer besides the obvious).

Pouting up at Johnny, you say, “I’ll only like you if you keep your promise on fucking me in the store next time.”

“Of course.” He palms your cheek and inches forward, preparing to kiss you tenderly.

“A gentleman never breaks his promise.”

EPILOGUE

One month later, the record store’s business has been growing, so Johnny decides to hire one of his friends, Mark, to be a part-time worker.

Which means that Johnny has more spare time to do other things... like taking you from behind in the back office over his desk.

“Shit, fuck,” you grip harshly onto the edges of the worn-out wooden desk as he thrusts endlessly. Even after a month of dating, your pussy still isn’t fully accustomed to the size of his girth. You’re unsure if it ever will be.

No matter, it always feels amazing.

“Johnny, Johnny—”

“Johnny!” Mark’s voice suddenly cuts in and calls from outside of the office door. You immediately bite down on your lower lip to shut yourself up. “Someone’s asking me about a limited edition vinyl and I don’t know how to answer.”

“Uhhh,” Johnny drones absentmindedly, yet jabs into you with more rigor. You bite down harder, but you can’t control the rising volume of your stifled moans. “Give me five minutes.”

A silent beat passes.

“Dude, are you fucking in the office again?!” the part-timer exclaims. You can practically see him shaking his head in disgust. “Ugh, I’ll give them the store’s card. Hurry up, though.”

As he walks away, you hear him faintly say, “Sometimes I think this is why you hired me...”

Simultaneously, you both giggle heartily. Your lover pecks you lovingly on your shoulder prior to diving again into the wanton moment.

In the end, Johnny actually spends ten more minutes with you. But he can afford the extra minutes—he is the owner of the shop, after all.

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