#plus size representation

You had never had a ‘first’ anything. It was a point of insecurity for you for quite a while. Growing up was twice as hard being the chubby virgin– lose weight and you become a skinny hypothetical whore, seek sex and you’re still a whore, just fat. There was no winning. As you grew up it was easier to shove that judgement down, but it always lingered. Especially once you were old enough that girls you knew in high school were getting married and having children, and you were sharing a city apartment with a college friend.

You had many good things. You had a wonderful job working as a registered nurse at PTMC. You had a black cat– named Binx, obviously– who was a licensed cuddlebug. You had a full bookshelf and a nice espresso machine. But of all the good things in your life, Mel was the best. 

Mel came into your life when you were getting your nursing bachelor’s. She was knee deep in medical school, and while you were close to graduating and getting a job, she still had four years of residency to look forward to. At the time, you had a spot secured after graduation at PTMC, and you offered to put a good word in for her, but she was determined to start at the VA. You didn’t blame her. They had a fantastic opportunity for her there, and her brain was so big and beautiful under that braid… you supported her choice. Part of that support was promising to stay friends, and going in on an apartment so she and Becca didn’t have to struggle alone. You would have a steady income to help keep her afloat on those criminal student wages so Becca could stay in the living facility, and Mel could be sure there was a bed awaiting her every night. It was the least you could do. Now she was at the hospital with you, and you went home together. Carpooled, saved gas. That was a good thing. Very good.

You hadn’t tried dating. It was too daunting. At some point, the idea of ‘getting out there’ lost its luster. You figured that if love was meant for you, it would happen naturally, and without you searching high and low for it. That was ridiculous validation-based psychosis prescribed through Disney films, you swore it. Someone should study it. Mel hadn’t either, but it seemed more for her a matter of no time available to try. Either way, things were comfortable. You had a cozy place and a best friend who you cared about more than anything in the world. Except just one teensy little issue… love had happened very naturally. Unfortunately.

How were you supposed to resist it? Mel was everything that was right about the world. She was kindness in a bottle, with all the spark and genius of lightning, and all the intuition of a wise old sage, and the strength of a warrior encased by the soft and gentle heart of a fucking child. She did nothing but accumulate more knowledge and experience to make herself a more understanding and universal person. It was genuinely making you distraught. How could anyone be so good? How could anyone be so strong as to look at her, those sweet eyes and her pouty lips, and think to themselves, Yeah, she’s whatever? It simply cannot be done. And it was ruining your life.

Well, maybe that’s a bit dramatic, but it was certainly hard– because nothing felt different. You were so incredibly safe beside Mel. You didn’t struggle to communicate, and you didn’t clam up. You could joke and tease and burp. You could be honest and complain aloud. There was no barrier created by passion that held you back from sharing every bit of your life with her, and because of the lack, you felt like a monster. You lived in her house and cooked her dinner, and you were in love with her, and you never said a word. It was the same as living with an imposter. A pathological liar. The guilt was crushing. 

Like, take right now for instance. You were sitting on the couch after an excruciating shift– fourteen hours– with your head in her lap as she half-dozed under the buzzing gleam of the television. She was raking her fingers through your hair, studying the indents, and she just showered with that linen-scented body wash that made your mouth dry. And you let it happen. You let every passing moment happen without telling her the truth. You did nothing but live in her house and pretend like you were her friend. So when she prompted, “You’re quiet tonight,” you were at a loss to explain yourself. Coward is as coward does. 

“I’m just tired,” you muttered.

“Mm,” she hummed, “Me too.”

On the television, some mind-melting reality show was keeping the doctor awake. Two people were slobbering over each other in swimwear, and Mel cocked her head to the side, sniffling softly. You watched her tongue dart out to wet her lips before she wondered aloud, “You still haven’t kissed anyone, right?”

You blinked up at her. Blonde waves made a shield over her cheeks as she peered down in return. You shook your head. “Nope.”

“Me neither,” she sighed, scratching her head. “Kinda sad.”

“I guess,” you swallowed. 

Mel gave your head one more pat before cocking her head to the other side, seemingly thinking. You watched in some phenomenon similar to slow motion as the velvety skin of her cheeks bled pink, and her nostrils flared. Your heart seized as she muttered softer, “I always wanted to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she admitted, hand stilling on your head. “To know what it feels like. It probably isn’t any good without practice, I imagine. Bumping noses and stuff.”

A strange feeling spread through your limbs, making everything tingle like sand was filling you head to toe. You pulled yourself up, pajama shirt scrunching carelessly, and turned your back to the television to look at her. “That makes sense.”

Mel’s lashes laced together as she blinked. “I can ask you anything, can’t I?”

Your heart made a sound. Something like ba-dunk. “Of course you can.”

“You won’t make fun of me?”

“Mel,”

“Because it’s not like I want you to be super serious, but I want you to listen and not judge me, I know you wouldn’t but I still have to ask–”

“Melly,” you chuckled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I won’t make fun of you. You can tell me anything in the world.”

The doctor nodded apprehensively before tucking some of that torturously blonde hair behind her ears. A nimble finger pushed her frames up her nose. “I just… I was thinking about it, and maybe…”

You sat still, ba-dunking. 

“I was thinking maybe I could– we could, um, kiss. Maybe we could kiss.”

Oh. “Kiss.”

“You’re judging,”

“I am not judging.”

“You look pale.”

“I am,” you breathed deep, "surprised."

“Did I freak you out?”

“No,” you winced, rubbing your eyes and laughing. Ba-dunk, ba-dunk. “I just didn’t expect that!”

Mel flushed profusely, tangling her hands together. She looked humiliated. “It was just an idea, like, to get it out of the way, because neither of us have and it’s like, safer, I guess, and I just wanted to–”

“I’ll kiss you,” you blurted. 

Mel blinked the same way Binx always did when you asked him to get off the counter. That sort of Did I just hear you right? blink. “You will?”

This was wrong. So, so wrong. You were in love with her and you were going to take advantage of her curiosity to fulfill that need. You were going to kiss an innocent woman and lie to her fucking face. Oh God, were you going to. You were a bad person. You were extremely horny, too, but mostly just a bad person, especially when you leaned in a bit. 

“I don’t really know how,” Mel murmured sheepishly, adjusting on the couch to slide nearer. When her knee brushed your leg, you shivered. So much for acting normal all the time. “I mean, I think you’re supposed to tilt your head in opposite directions. And keep your mouth shut the first time.”

You blinked robotically, moving on autopilot. Bad person. Bad person. Ba-dunk.

“Are you sure you want to try this? It’s your first kiss. You’re, like… giving it to me.”

In some stroke of idiocy, you whispered, “I think it’s a good idea.”

Mel’s face was scorching red. “Okay. Um… I guess I’ll just… lean in first.”

“Okay.”

You could smell her body wash like chloroform, making you woozy and weak as it curled inside your throat. She was so warm like this, and as she tilted her head to the left– her favorite direction, don’t ask why– you tilted to the right. When she pressed her lips to your mouth, you paused to examine the results. Warm, yes. Definitely feels like skin– you touched skin all day long with your patients, so it wasn’t a particularly special feeling. But what was special was the pressure. Mel seemed to push against you, her plush bottom lip lodged between both of yours, mouths linked like steps. It was like a suction cup that tasted of leftover ice cream. You let out a small breath that rustled the baby hairs above her mouth, and she pulled away with startled eyes. You didn’t move a muscle. It was plain, and it wasn’t particularly good, but you were trapped. Ensnared in the clutches of more. 

Mel scrunched her nose and said, “Sorry.”

You shook your head. “Try a different way.”

“What?”

“We’re too stiff,” you explained, feeling like a beast. You shouldn’t be asking for more. Hell, you should be on your knees begging for forgiveness. But she was so dejected, and you wanted her mouth inside your mouth. “I’ll– I’ll, um–”

“You should sit on my lap.”

An involuntary laugh slipped out. “Mel, I’m twice your size.”

“It’s okay,” she glanced away. “I… it would be nice to feel… more of you. If we’re really going to practice.”

You swung your leg over her thighs and plopped down decisively, watching if she groaned under the weight. She didn’t. In fact, she spread her legs a little wider to slouch, leaving you lording over her. Bad person bad person bad person ba-dunk BA-DUNK. 

“We should really go for it,” you suddenly suggested, mind reeling with ease. Your eyes lidded, and so did hers. Your hands slid over her shoulders, and hers over your hips. 

She nodded like she was being overtaken by something. “Okay.”

“Even if it’s bad. Like you said, it’s practice.”

“Just practice,” she agreed. 

When you leaned in, it was with far less restraint. You tilted to the right again, and this time Mel kept her mouth open. You felt the sting of her teeth against your bottom lip as she tried to find the sweet spot of where the spaces slotted together right. Her tongue was slippery and thick, pressing against the roof of your mouth as she tried to tangle and only licked. You laughed and pushed your fingers into her hair, cradling them behind the curvature of the skull and craning her back. Your gut lurched as she squeezed your thighs, and suddenly nothing was embarrassing. After a moan into her mouth, you found something that felt right– a sort of ebb and flow, where you pushed and she pulled, tongues dancing and teeth knocking, making you giggle, making her squirm. 

“Mel,” you panted, mentally recording the feel of her jaw opening in your hands. 

“I think this is good,” she evaluated. 

“I think we should keep going,” you groaned, smearing a wet trail of kisses down her neck. “Practising.”

“Yes,” was her best work. 

It was wrong, right? It felt good. She was so much softer than you expected, and so much stronger. She seemed fascinated with squeezing every abundant inch of you with her steady hands, hands that probably should have been a surgeon’s but stuck to emergency care. You tugged at her hair as you belabored a sensitive patch behind her ear that had Mel’s chest rising and her toes curling. It had gotten to the point where none of this was safe at all, and you were rolling your hips in a frenzy for friction, and she was clawing at your face to bring you back to the original agreement. 

With her eager mouth against yours, Mel fell subject to the parasite in her heart and confessed, “I’ve been– wanting to– kiss you, mmf– for so long.”

You could barely think between smacks. “Me? You– mngh– really?”

“Mhm… God… yeah.”

“Me too,” you whimpered, breaking it to take a look.

Mel was a proper mess. Hair static from tugging, mouth bitten red, tank top tugged unruly and eyes sheening with a mist that landed somewhere between tears and hunger. You combed her hair back and let yourself be a bad friend. “I’m in love with you and I never said anything because I was scared.”

The doctor gazed up at you for promptly one second before grabbing your face and dragging you back down, making you yelp. You smushed your mouth to hers happily, and somehow she slipped the words through your teeth: “Thank God.”

“Hm?”

“I love you,” she laughed, wriggling you until she was able to shove you down onto your back. Mel crawled over you in a careful heat. “This was the best excuse I could use. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

You didn’t have time to laugh because she smoothed her hands right up your shirt, spanning them greedily over your ribs. “Mel!” “Yeah?”

“You love me?” You flushed– finally. 

“I love you.”

“I want more,” you smiled.

“More firsts?”

“Please.”

Mel barely contained her joy and all but mauled you, pressing your back into the worn leather of the couch and boxing you in. Her shirt was easy to slide off, but it took quite a while to snap your focus back at the sight of all her chocolate beauty marks against that cream skin. Your shirt took more work, but the reward was greater, because Mel practically cried over how beautiful you were under there, all that body you hid away (“and for what?!” she exclaimed). When she was brave enough to slip her hand between your legs, all bets were off. You were about to be the worst person possible. 

“Fuck, please,” you whined. It was pathetic, really, how quickly you folded without even an ounce of pleasure yet. “Touch me, Melly.”

“Now this I can do,” she smirked. “Doctors. Anatomy. Y’know.”

It was funny because she was right. Her fingers nudged under your cotton barrier and notched against your clit like a magnet, no searching necessary, only seizure. Her lips smothered yours again as those same pulse-taking digits encircled your nub softly, offering a cruel amount of pleasure with barely any of the ferocity she used above the neck. 

Your nails dug into her shoulders as she made quick work between your legs, but half the credit could be attributed to the sudden cockiness she let loose as she caressed you. “Have you thought about this before?”

“All the time,” you gushed. “I think I’ve been getting off to you for years.” “Oh my God, like, in your room? The one next to mine?”

“I don’t– ah– have another!” You gasped. 

“That’s so good,” she said mournfully, “and so sad, baby, I could have done it for you.”

Your eyes crossed like a cartoon. “Fuck.”

Mel chuckled and cupped your mound with her palm, testing the puckering center of your cunt like a button. “Baby? Is that a good one?”

“Anything,” you babbled, hips bucking. “You can call me anything.”

“Baby,” she began, sliding a finger into your sopping walls. “Honey,” she added, beginning to thrust. “Oh, sweetie,” she concluded and she plunged a second finger in, seeing as you were wide open and absolutely begging for it. 

You writhed and gripped her wrist, holding her in place as she fucked you with her fingers. Sugary tears collected in the corners of your eyes. Your fingers were never long enough, but hers were a different story. She was tickling the corrugated muscle inside you like piano keys. You moaned weakly and fluttered around her hand. “Melly!”

“What should we do, sweetie? Do you want to cum? Or wait?”

What kind of question was that? “Cum! Please!”

Mel’s teeth sunk into your warm cheek as she pierced you again and again, a brutal curving thrust that had your knees trembling. By the time you were grabbing onto her for dear life and gasping for air, she knew she’d made it happen. 

Mel dragged her slick fingers out from between your folds and shoved them in her mouth, nuzzling into your neck as she tasted you. Her anguished moan made your stomach flip. You shifted helplessly, the ache between your thighs barely quelled, and you asked, “What do you want me to do to you?”

Mel’s eyes flicked up from her resting place in her neck, and she grinned. “Me?”

“Mhm,” you swallowed, still panting. “What do you want?”

She grinned wider. “To fuck you.”

You blinked. “Like…”

“Mhm.”

“Not fingers? O-or my mouth, or–”

“Later. Do that later. I just,” Mel breathed in the scent of your skin before continuing, “God, I really just want to scissor you. So much.”

It was maybe the dorkiest thing she’d ever said– and this is Mel we’re talking about– but it worked on you. Everything she did worked on you. You made no objections as she shimmied your panties down your legs and allowed hers to follow, and you selfishly ogled the soft, puffy folds of her pussy as she clambered over you again. 

Mel giggled and braced her arms on the cushion beneath you, and she asked, “It’s just like kissing, isn’t it? Tilting our hips to either side?”

You floundered, because Mel was recreating about ninety wet dreams in that moment, and you struggled to speak. The doctor leaned down to kiss you much softer than before, and she whispered, “You want this, right?”

You melted, obviously. “Yes.”

“Okay. Then let’s practice.”

Turns out this was an even easier rhythm to syncopate. Maybe it was because you were both so wound up, but it only took a few seconds of brushing her cunt against yours to fall prey to the blissful smear of arousal. Mel’s sharp hips rocked against the sweet spot between your lips, and there was enough cushion on you to stop it from being bone-grindingly close; her soft, throbbing clit kissed yours again and again as she clung to your thigh and rocked, rocked, rocked…

“Holy shit,” you gasped for air. 

“I thought it only worked in porn,” Mel grunted.

“You watch porn?”

“Sometimes I have to,” she gritted her teeth, “Jesus, you’re so wet.”

“You’re so good at this,” you sighed. “Sure you haven’t done it before?”

Mel stroked your face as she grinded her hips in a blessed circle, catching the flesh just right. “Only with you.”

When Mel came, you wished you had a camera. Perverted, yes, but understandable. Her mouth parted in a picturesque little ‘o’, and the pinch between her brow was characteristically adorable. Her face screwed up like the wind had been knocked out of her, and her body stuttered against yours, rutting weakly, like the pleasure was squeezing her insides. You, on the other hand, deflated like a balloon, gushing and whimpering nonsense about feeling so good you could die. Mel slumped over you, reveling in the thick little puddle of slick that connected your two at the hips. 

The television was still running. It was a new episode, and Mel turned to glance at it, smiling like an idiot. You tried to regain breath and dignity beneath her, but it was hard when she stroked your sides and placed little kisses over your chest. 

“There’s a lot we have to try,” Mel muttered, careful not to move just yet. “When you get your strength back.”

“Don’t act like it’s just me,” you quipped, smirking. “You’re spent.”

“Give me a couple minutes. I just lost my virginity, you know.”

“You’re so annoying,” you giggled, and the reverberation made your hips twitch with sensitivity. 

Mel peered up at you, and you could’ve sworn, just for a second, that she looked just the way she did when you met her. Perfect, and in love. Maybe it really had been forever, even then. Maybe you were just smart enough to be a nurse, and just stupid enough to spend eight years pining over a girl who loved you back the whole time.

“I love you again,” you cooed, coaxing her hair back. 

Mel glowed. Humans don’t glow, but she’s something entirely different. “You can say that again.”

he's not there to necessarily party. he's there to make money, drink, and observe. he doesn't even really miss the partying, or the people. since he was the plug, it was only ever about business. how much can someone get, what can they get, for what price, thanks, have a good night. he didn't get much socialization done in his life right now, so his best bet was to just watch.

he took his place on the couch, somewhere in the clouded area of the living room of whoever's house he's in right now. it was almost deja vu for him.

eddie would be SUCH an observer. quiet, listening and watching to everyone and everything since he was always in the corner unless he was needed. so when his eyes scanned the room after taking a puff of his blunt, it wasn't odd that his eyes latched onto you first.

you were wearing your usual, tube top, fishnet and jean shorts that rode up your ass and hugged the dips of your hips and waist. i think eddie tried to stop looking at you, especially when you saw him staring from your spot where you poured yourself another drink. but even you catching him didn't make him have any shame.

he was checking you out unabashedly. he was staring at the way your tits squeezed against the fabric of the tube top, how your tummy poked out of your shorts because they squeezed into your curves, how the fishnets had holes in some spots on your legs probably from stretching over the width of your thighs.

i think eddie would definitely try to make a move on you, his confidence wasn't lost on him, but he would wait. and while he would wait, he would think about touching you, talking to you, maybe even talking you through it.

he was a freak.

he waited until you finally decided to dance with a few of your friends, getting up from his spot and mixing in between the bodies to get next to you. eddie wasn't a dancer. not in these settings, even he surprised himself.

the obsession was mutual. your hands couldn't stop touching him as you two danced, whispering little things in each other's ears.

"you're really fucking pretty, you know that? like, insanely pretty. i couldn't stop looking at you from across the room." his voice was all you heard even when the music tried to drown it out, he was the only one you could listen to.

"eddie right?" you asked in his ear and your voice was even sweeter than he thought. he just nodded and let his hands fall onto your hips.

"you think i'm pretty?" you asked, your eyes fluttering up at him and biting your lip.

eddie only put his hands on your waist and squeezed, pulling you into him and smiling as you both danced together. putting your hands on his chest as he moved his hands to the lower part of your back and dipping his finger tips into your shorts, he leaned down and whispered in your ear,

"more than pretty. can't even focus on my job when you're right there in front of me just begging for me to come and take you away."

your eyes flutters again, this time with your lips parted and small hitch in your throat.

it was the same expression you had that night, upstairs in the guest room as everyone partied below you when he pushed his fingers inside of your heat.

"oh, ooh baby," he would say as he watched your cunt suck his fingers in, coating him in your juices and making a mess over his hand.

"i-i'm, eddie, oh my god eddie," you groaned, jean shorts discarded and panties moved to the side as he played with your cunt.

his hands ripped the fishnets between your thighs, letting his fingers spread the thick of your cunt and press his finger pads onto the glistening pearl that made you flutter your eyes shut.

it was the same expression you gave when he pushed his length into your sopping heat, and grabbed onto every inch of skin he could. once he entered you after making you cum on his fingers, he got eager.

eddie pulled your top down and let your tits free, becoming even more obsessed you might end up having to put a restraining order on him. it turned out, eddie was a tit man. he played with your tits as he slid in and out of you, squeezing your pebbled nipples and teasing them. sucking on his fingers just to play with your nipples, grabbing your tits and pushing them together to watch them bounce as he fucked you.

he was in love.

you didn't know eddie much, but he took his time with you. even when the party seemed to get even more rowdy, he only fucked into you harder. his hips snapping against your thighs, now calves on his shoulders as he quickly grabbed a pillow and slid it under the small of your back.

"my fucking god, sweetheart, look at you," he said, slipping back into you and adding a stretch that added to your pleasure, "even fuckin' prettier like this, you know that? goddamn, i'm gonna fucking get addicted to this pussy,"

the wind had been knocked out of you, breathless and scrambling for something to say but without missing a beat eddie ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed your ankles, spreading your legs wide beside him to see you open for him.

"i, i, daddy please, i can't, too much, can't breathe," you could feel his cock in your throat, punching into you and making your legs twitch at his lace.

"just like that, pretty girl, hold yourself open like that, be good for daddy." he groaned, sitting on his knees to slide back into your gaping hole as you placed your hands on the back of your thighs.

"there we go, so fuckin' good, so pretty," he whispered to himself, watching as tears ruined your perfect makeup and sweat collected on your forehead and chest. you were ruined, aching and throbbing, still begging for him even when he was giving you what you wanted.

"please, please, so fucking good s' so fucking big," you said, out of breath as he moved to your liking.

he couldn't fuck you like that for long, not when he was watching the weight of your tits bounce and move to the rhythm of his thrusts, not when you begged for him, not when he looked at the way your legs pressed against your stomach that was so soft and round for him—now becoming his favorite part to touch as he lifts himself from his knees and putting his weight into your waist.

he got a good grip like this, you thought, feeling how his hands molded into the skin you bashed for so long just to fuck you deeper and more relentlessly.

it was when someone knocked on the door, asking for eddie, (after your second orgasm) when he decided to flip the two of you over so that his back was now against the random headboard of the bed and your thighs sat on top of his.

you were positioned at his tip, most of him sliding out after your orgasm pushed him out. you couldn't help but feel yourself drip onto his length as you looked at the state of him, hearing the man call for his friend outside of the door, and watching as eddie got lost in your curves and softness.

"fucking hell. goddamnit, look at you," he breathed, hands moving all over you, "this will never leave my mind. i'm telling you right now. gonna be thinking about this for fucking ever, thinking about this pretty fucking body on me,"

he was touching everything, all over you, squeezing parts of you you'd never though you'd let anyone see. kissing the stretch marks and moles and the extra flab of your arms and leaning you back to kiss the width of your tummy.

"sit down on me, baby, please, let me have it, let daddy have it, i've been real good for you, baby," he begged, whined, pressing the side of his face into your tits and gently suckling on the skin.

he was growing tiresome, feeling your hole clench around his weeping, red tip that ached for you. eddie didn't even realize he could throb this hard for anyone, or that he even wanted anyone as bad as he wanted you when he saw you. he didn't even know he could last as long as he did, not with you being right in front of him begging for him to fuck you.

you were beautiful, you had something about you that he couldn't take his eyes off of, something he knew he wasn't going to stop thinking about even if he tried.

"but, they're asking for you," you whimpered, fingers dragging through eddie's hair and fingernails scraping his scalp as he groped your tits and sucked on them. "the party, you have customers,"

he leaves kisses when he speaks again.

"the fuck does that matter, hm? as far as i'm concerned," he said and leaned back, watching the way your cunt looked so he could remember every detail. how juicy your cunt was, how he could palm it and rub your clit at the same time, how well your cunt wrapped around his cock when he gave everything for you to take,

"i got the prettiest, juiciest fucking pussy i've ever had in my fuckin' life right here about to sit on my cock, you think i'm gonna stop trying to make you cum so i can get a 20 dollar bill?" he scoffed, "absolutely fuckin' not. fuck that party. now let me fuck that pretty cunt baby, please, let me feel it again,"

he whimpered when he met your eyes, desperation for a nut especially like this, and you melted. you clenched around his tip and he winced as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. you were gasping at this point, trying to fight for air while you let your cunt take all of him until your clit was pressed against his thatch of hair.

"oh fuck, FUCK, fuck baby," he practically yelled, throwing his head back against the headboard and you couldn't help yourself. his hands were gripping your asscheeks so hard they left hand prints, pulling and spreading them apart just to leave slaps to imagine how your ass would jiggle with it.

it left him moaning even more.

your lips attached to his neck and kissed everywhere you could, licking his pale skin and sucking on his neck and chest. you left hickies where you could. the soberness in you wanted him to remember this, to be looked at so people can know someone fucked him this good and it was you.

the drunk in you just wanted to claim him as yours. let everyone know he was fucking you. and only you. or so you convinced yourself to think.

as you buried your face into his neck and suckled and licked, your cunt clenched around him and slowly you lifted your hips up, just to slam them back down and make lewd noises fill the room. his moaning was turning you on even more, knowing his was sounding fucked out like this because of you.

"eddie, yo what the fuck? i'm tryin' to get some weed man! come on!" the obnoxious voice was drowned out by eddie's moans and whimpers as you decided to speed your bouncing up.

you did it for a hot minute, rolling your hips and bouncing your ass on your knees as you took him in with every lift of your hips. he was so much more filling this way, so much more bigger and reaching places it felt like was your stomach.

"eddie, e-eddie, p-p-please, eddie," you were crying into his neck when you whined and it only made him release a guttural groan as he quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled your body down to his.

"eddie, what, wh-" you tried as he fixed positions, planting his feet and raising his hips before continuously slamming up into your cunt.

"oh, oh, oh my, f-fucking, mmphf, my," you really tried, to make sense of what he was doing until your mind went blank, until you felt the head of his pink cock hitting your cervix over and over again until it began to mix pleasure with pain.

it was delicious, it was everything, and yet the man was still at the door. "eddie, eddie," you moaned, sort of forgetting about everything else but the man ramming into your sore hole, you corrected yourself quickly as he fucked you harder, "daddy!"

"woah, hey, are you, are you fucking in there?? eddie!!! my man!!" the man cheered through the door but to you it was muffled.

you couldn't hear anything but the messiness of your cunt, the squelching, the groaning and crying, the moaning and whimpering, his words making you tighten around him.

"take that fucking dick, baby, take what daddy's giving you, yeah?" he growled in your ear as he kept his pace up, your tears hitting his shoulders and your whines being muffled by his chest.

"i know baby, you're taking me so well, being so good, feel so fucking good,"

"cmon baby, let me have another one, cum again for daddy,"

"next time i'm gonna bury my fucking face between those thighs and let your ride my tongue, just wanna taste my pretty girl the right way," he was breathless, and listening to you cry from his words and beg after every sweet nothing he couldn't hold it anymore.

"get it man!" again. eddie was almost getting pissed off. actually. he was pissed off.

this random man was able to hear the way you sounded just for eddie, the way you called for him and said his name, the way you cried when his cock hit your spot over and over again in this angle.

"get the fuck out of here, fuckface!" eddie screamed angrily away from your ear, only making you clench harder as he then flipped you to lay on your side.

his cock was still inside of you, only now he laid behind you in the same position and lifted your leg by the thickness of your thigh and held it there as he lifted his thigh and slipped further inside of you.

"m' the only one that should hear you like this, not him, nobody else. look at that," he says in your ear as he uses his other hand to point your head downwards to see the way his cock slammed into your cunt over and over again, barely being able to see it over your tummy, "see how she's crying for me? god i wish you could fuckin' see yourself, how fuckin' pretty you are,"

"daddy, daddy, fuck, fuck me, fuck my pussy please, make me feel good," you managed to get out as he moved his hand from your hair to your throat, forcing you to throw your head back against his.

eddie puts his chin right at the top of your head, somehow seemingly bigger than you and crowding you as he kept his pace.

"touch yourself, princess, touch that pretty little clit for daddy, daddy's gonna make you cum all over his big fucking cock, how's that sound, pretty girl? you like that?" he asks, and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

it only grows deeper when he sees your weak hand move to your messy cunt, finding your clit and rubbing firm circles into her. eddie can feel you clench and drip onto him, covering his cock in your cum and juices as you reach your climax for the third time.

you didn't know eddie. he didn't really know you. but in this moment, holding you to his chest as you leaves kisses in your hair and on your cheek sweetly, fucking you roughly and messily, palm still at your throat.

you were crying by now, tears slipping down just for eddie to dry them back up.

"i know, i can feel you baby, can feel you gettin' close for me," he boasts, his own thrusts getting sloppy and missing the rhythm as he struggles to hold his own release back.

"so good, feels so good daddy," you gasped, voice dry and strained, "gonna make, fuck fuck, baby i can't, too much,"

"uh-uh baby, what were you gonna say? gonna make you what? cum? gonna make this pretty little cunt cum all over my cock again?" eddie's balls pulled taut, fighting back his orgasm until you clenched hard one last time and yelled out.

"yes! yes! yes! make me cum, you're making me cum, i'm cumming, daddy please," you shouted, body shaking in his hold as you move your hands to grab at his wrist and try to wriggle out of his grasp, his thrusts becoming too much too fast.

"oh fuck, oh fuck, baby, fuck," he whimpered, wincing and releasing a string of moans and groans as he cums in the condom; desperately wishing he could've painted your walls. you were still shaking in his grasp, whimpering when eddie pulls out of you and moves his hands to fix your hair.

eddie moves you to lay on your back as he sits up on one arm and admires you, the lipstick smeared and eyeshadow messy, eyeliner running and your face makeup staining whatever pillows were there.

eddie wasn't the type to think he was going to call back. thats for sure. he wasn't a dating man, a 'see you more than once in a year' man. eddie was confused for the most part, not knowing where this was gonna go next depending how he went about this last part of the interaction. he especially wasn't a girl. not that girl who asked what we are on the first hook up. not the girl who day dreamed about someone when they weren't near.

he wasn't a girl. he especially wasn't that girl.

you opened your eyes to him staring with a lopsided smile, scanning over your face and chest.

"what?" you smiled, breathlessly and sleep pulling at your eyes.

he shakes his head with a small smile and drowns out the music playing from downstairs, watching you scan his face.

Starting your rotations at PTMC would have been terrifying if you didn’t get stuck with the group you follow now. On your first day, you came in off a terrible experience at Mercy upstate, and when you met the other R1s and fourth-year med students, they seemed to be familiar with each other. You were the odd man out. But Dennis was, too. While Mel reconnected with Samira and Trinity struck gold with Perlah and Princess– not to mention Victoria's parents literally being on the upstairs payroll– you two were the only ones who hadn’t made a connection. Well, some might say that your floundering was the connection. You hit it off in your first hour, and have been inseparable since. 

The year was hard on both of you during the transition from student to resident. You were intent on specializing in pediatric emergency medicine while Dennis had his sights set on being attending chief, just like Robby. Outside of the traumas, Dennis followed Robby for teaching, and you used each spare second to pick up younger patients and build on your study. 

You were working on an experimental treatment study that gave kids power over how they treated their pain– letting them choose their dosage, their care, their desired results. Children were more honest when they were trusted, you found, and it was all being done in the hopes of drawing attention not only to the sheer volume of peds cases that came through the ER, but the necessity of having a pediatric resident on at all times, and possibly even a pediatric attending physician. So, you and Dennis technically weren’t so different… Either way, it was a mountain of effort. 

Even though he didn’t have the same academic drive to make change, Dennis admired you helplessly. He thought you were a genius, an angel-doctor, someone who they should give awards to for how sweet you were with children and how devoted to improving patient care you could be. You made him want to be a better agent of change, not just a good doctor. 

While it took twelve months to get the hang of the place, you and Dennis were finally doing well. As a pair, you got accepted into the residency program at PTMC and were finally getting paid. You went in on a shitty downtown apartment with Trinity, hoping to save money by carpooling and splitting rent. And you were hopelessly, disgustingly in love. 

At first, Trinity couldn’t stand you two. It was easy enough to ignore at work, because in order to stay focused you and Dennis decided to be neutral around the hospital. It made your lives easier and avoided any potential teasing or prying, especially from the nurses, who were dead set on sniffing out everyone’s business. But the second you guys were off the clock, he had his arms wrapped around your waist and he was steering you, petting you, kissing you; it made her sick sometimes. The lip smacking, the little giggles. Sometimes she would purposely get a ride home with Mel just to beat you to the apartment and lock the door, if only to preserve her peace for a few measly minutes. The frustrated banging on the wood was better than hearing you guys canoodle. 

But once Trinity got together with Garcia, her frustrations were far and few between… and hard to even see anymore. She was never home. The girl had started keeping clothes and scrubs at Garcia’s place, and if she did come back, it was to do laundry or eat the fridge. So, you and Dennis finally had peace and quiet. After those long days in the emergency department full of staring eyes and stress and death, you could come home to each other and soak up the softness of each other’s silence. Like tonight.

It had been a particularly hard one– nearly seventeen hours on the clock. There was some freak toxic spill in a factory across town, and over twenty patients had come in with chemical burns and gashes from slipping and falling down stairs onto machinery. Hazmat came and closed off half the emergency wing, and everyone had to be cleared from quarantine and hosed down in the frigid air before coming or going. It was torture. Dennis drove home in his truck, the both of you soaked to the skin in paper-thin sterile scrubs, starving and shivering. 

You stumbled through the apartment door, dead on your feet. Dennis took your bag and trotted off to drop the belongings in the bedroom, while you veered into the kitchen, yawning and shaking out the shivers as you yanked the refrigerator open. 

“God,” you pouted, “We forgot to go shopping again.”

The soft patter of footsteps echoed down the hall, and a strong pair of arms wrapped around your middle. Dennis tucked his chin over your shoulder, squeezing your tummy. “I can call the Chinese place. They’re 24/7, right?”

“Think so,” you grumbled, rubbing your eyes. “I’m just hungry. And tired. And annoyed.”

“Anything else?” Dennis laughed, the rumble soothing your spine. You spun in his arms and faced him, leaning back against the counter and moping. 

The apartment was a mess. The kitchen hadn’t been cleaned in days. There were clothes and shoes littering the living room, and Santos had a pile of papers covering the coffee table. Your research scattered the work desk by the bookshelf. It just felt like you never had time to catch up anymore, to take two seconds to clean up; when you got a day off, you slept through it on Dennis’ chest or your sad and forgotten pillow, just in case it would be another week before you got the chance. As you looked around, you felt the overwhelm of it all rushing back, and you dropped your head on his shoulder.

Dennis sighed softly and pressed a few smooches to your hairline. “I can see your wheels turning.”

“Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Bee, I lived on a farm. I’m used to the mess.” 

You managed a tiny smile at the name, nodding to yourself. He was right. It could always be worse. You could still be living in the med student dorms, where the showers were riddled with mildew and your roommate slept with her boyfriend all night, forcing you to get no sleep. At least you had this privacy, and this man in front of you who ensured you kept it. 

“I’ll call in an order.”

You sighed quietly as he pulled away and wandered back to the bedroom to grab his phone. For all the things he admired about you, you admired that about him: his ability to let things roll off, to take the good and leave the bad. You let everything affect you, but he never failed to have a good sense about him. He was way too wise, and it was why patients adored him. That and maybe his warm eyes, or his gorgeous, crooked smile, or the way he said “ma’am” and “surely” with that midwestern charm. 

You rooted through the medicine cabinet to grab some acetaminophen as you listened to the dull babbling of Dennis on the phone, and you rested against the counter as you took the pills dry. Your feet ached, the black work shoes worn down from any support they once offered. You were still cold from the wet roots of your hair. You were in a miserable mood, and the apartment was lonely without his warmth. You closed your eyes and tried to take your mind off it all, and that was when you felt hands scooping you off your feet. 

“Oof– Dennie!” You squeaked, wrapping your arms around his neck in case he dropped you. 

Dennis grinned and hoisted your legs around his hips, bracing you against his chest. The pads of his fingers dimpled the soft, bunching skin of your thighs. “Yes?”

“Why am I being handled like a ragdoll?”

“Because you flail, and it’s cute.” 

“That’s not a good enough reason,” you laughed, and he readjusted so his palms could cradle you dubiously close to the spot where your legs jointed to your ass. “I think you just wanted to squeeze me.”

“That, too,” he hummed, kissing your cheek. 

“Put me down,” you mumbled, nosing his jaw. 

“Why?”

“I’m heavy.”

“You are not,” Dennis scoffed, giving you a comical look of offense.

“Yes I am! Come on,”

“No,” he frowned, and he squeezed the underside of your legs to drive the point home. “You’re lighter than a hay bale.”

“I really don’t think that’s possible.”

Dennis narrowed his gaze playfully and slid you onto the kitchen counter, caging you in. You huffed at the relief of being put down and ruffled his hair, to which he shook the mess out like a dog. 

“Did you get me an egg roll?”

“You’re not heavy,” he interjected. 

“Okay, I’m not heavy.”

“Good. Correct,” he confirmed, and with a tiny glint in his eye, Dennis slid his palms up your legs and sides, caressing the spots where you curved and rolled. The farmboy was quick to trap you in a soft, unassuming kiss, and you melted on the faux marble, coiling around him once again. 

Dennis grunted softly as he pressed close to the counter and wrapped his arms around your back, sneaking his fingers under your scrubs. Your mouths worked in tandem as he drew patterns down your spine with one hand and kneaded the pudge of your tummy with the other, making you squirm. 

“Just been so stressed,” you mumbled, trailing your kisses down his neck. 

“I know, honeybee,” he panted, nipping your ear and pressing you against the cabinets. 

“You always make it better,” you confided, tugging sluggishly at his shirt. 

“Come here.”

The air settled softly over the room as you two gave into the urge. It wasn’t a tense moment, not even a worked-up one. It was just like letting a breath out. His hands were so welcome on your hot skin as he freed your legs from the chafing prison of those hazmat-issued scrubs. Your mouth was so grateful for the traces of soap on his collarbone as you nibbled and suckled on the meat of his chest, caressing the ridges of the abs that formed in secrecy over the last year of hauling patients and volunteering at the shelters and community farms after hours. It was a simple exchange of love between two people who have been leaning on each other for over a year, and who simply didn’t want to function without their counterpart. The mesh of passion in a quiet little safe place.

Dennis tucked his thumb under the cotton lip of your panties, sinking the pad into the wet heat between your folds. He sought the throbbing nub that required his attention. You choked on a moan as your back straightened out, and you curled your fingers in his hair, breathing the air of his mouth as he began to encircle it. 

“I’m sorry you had a bad day,” he murmured, prodding softly at your clit, smearing the mess over your mound. 

“You had one, too,” you wheezed. 

“Yeah, but I’m not upset,” he purred, giving you a little nip and kitten lick at the juncture of your neck and jaw. His palm adjusted to let his greedy fingers tuck under the cloth, and you grunted as he cupped your cunt. “I hate seeing my girl so drained. You’re too pretty… too smart for that.”

“Dennie,” you moaned. 

“Yeah? Right there?” Dennis asked as he sunk two fingers past your entrance, feeling the pulse of your needy walls like a heartbeat around his knuckles. “Oh, baby… you’re so wet, sweetheart.”

“S’all your fault,” you whimpered, grinding gently onto his palm. 

Dennis hooked an arm behind your hips to help angle you forward, and he crooked his fingers inside your cunt, grinning as the familiar squelch gargled around the digits. Your face twisted with need, and he began to gently thrust, pressing the heel of his palm to your clit and working out circles. 

“That’s it, honeybee, come on– just take what you want,” he cooed, giving you every opportunity to rock against his fingers and use him up. “My little bee, yeah? You like it when I’m sweet.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, breathless and dizzy with pleasure. His hands should be exhausted from all the work he did on those trauma patients, but he made no show of it. The man’s fingers petted your g-spot like it deserved a treat. 

“You’re so pretty, baby, did I tell you today?” Dennis whispered, attaching his mouth to your neck. You felt the scrape of his teeth. “So, so pretty.”

“Dennieee,” you begged, feeling the heat building in your gut. The combination of his pressure on your bud and fingers stroking your walls was enough, but the words made it impossible to hold out. 

“Gonna cum, honeybee? Yeah? You can, don’t worry, baby. Come for me, let me see your face.”

Dennis always had that tone when you got desperate. Easy, gentle, as if you were a spooked horse. There was no fighting off the butterflies as they flitted happily around your spinning, floating orgasm, making you shiver and twitch as he wrought a crashing wave of pleasure down on your body. You moaned hoarsely and clung to the corded muscle of his arms, bucking into his palm and babbling weak, “Ah, ah, ah…”s. 

Dennis smiled against the curve of your neck and pulled his fingers free, sliding them between your lips and exploring the hot slick of your tongue. He watched your pouty lips close around them and suck, and his cock twitched in his pants. “That’s it. Good girl, honey.”

You flushed from the praise, body buzzing and shaking with stimulation. You reached down to cup his erection. Dennis tensed and hooked his fingers over your teeth, biting the inside of his cheek. “Jesus, baby.”

“You need it, too,” you pleaded, gently palming him, watching his cheeks burn and his lips part. 

“Fuck,” he moaned, and you tugged the string on the scrub bottoms free so he could shimmy them down. 

Dennis was not one to get greedy often, but it was so hard not to let the urge overcome him when you watched him with those bog doe eyes and begged to be fucked. Your legs wobbled like a calf as he dragged you to the edge of the counter and lined himself up, gliding the head of his cock through your folds to coat the pink, hungry skin in the residual slick. The two of you let out a freakish, synced sigh, and he pressed the tip in with impatience. He was met with no resistance– your cunt stretched dutifully for him, and soon enough he was grunting like an animal, pinning your hips to the counter and watching your breasts bounce from the force.

Your knees hitched around his hips as the deep, eager force of his length speared you, and you lolled your head back against the cabinets, clawing at the edge of the counter. “Dennie, baby, please, please…”

“You feel so good, baby,” he whined, thrusting harder, watching the creamy rings start to form around the base of his cock. “Fuck. Such a sweet girl, honeybee, such a good girl!”

“S-so… so…”

He chuckled weakly as you lost your train of thought. He thought you were pretty without fail, but there was something to you when he had you at the mercy of your own pleasure. You seemed to glow, skin shimmering with sweat, all your bountiful curves twisting and turning with marshmallow torque. He gasped hungrily as he dug his nails into the fat of your thighs and moaned, “So fucking beautiful… God, could just squeeze you ‘til you pop.”

The heat wrapping around your womb in vines was pernicious and unrelenting. You licked up a stray droplet of drool from his chin as he pounded into you, and you threaded your fingers into his hair, dragging him into a sloppy, wonderful kiss. Dennis’ lashes mingled with yours as you swirled your tongue past his lips, jolting with every thrust, milking him to his breaking point. The heat between your bodies was overwhelming, and it was so good, so deep–

“Hello? Guys, I’m home–”

The apartment door swung open, and Trinity was ambushed by the sight of Dennis fucking you like a jackrabbit on the kitchen counter, your scrubs pushed up over your tits and his pants at his ankles. The poor girl covered her eyes and swallowed a spontaneous upchuck reflex. “What the actual fuck?!”

Dennis didn’t stop, he only slowed. A mortified expression crossed his face as he begged, “Get out!”

“Yeah, no fucking shit!”

The door slammed, and Trinity could be heard barking and grumbling down the hall. Maybe Garcia had to cancel their plans tonight. Maybe God had planned to embarrass you. It didn’t matter now, though, because Dennis was spurred on by the intrusion, and he pumped into you hard enough to burst. The two of you fell into a messy fit of laughter and lost, climactic whimpers as his hips stuttered and warm, thick ropes clung to your insides. 

“Shit,” you wheezed, “She’s gonna kill us.”

“It’s our apartment, too,” he grinned, kissing your chin and resting his heavy forehead in the dip of your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you flushed. “Maybe you should go get her.”

Dennis lifted his head again and slipped two fingers into your mouth, shutting you up with drooping, sated eyes. “Just shut up and stop worrying about everything, honeybee… yeah?”

You could explode all over again. It was that stupid farmer’s voice. All the adrenaline and weight of the day dissipated again as you hummed around his fingers, a tiny “mhm.”

Dennis sighed happily and tugged you close again, feeling his cock jump inside your heat, and he kissed your cheek. “That’s my girl.”