#Built Up Felt Services

[fasihajavaid]

Built-Up Felt Roofing Services: The Ultimate Guide by Tsamuels Roofing

The type of roofing you choose can have a significant impact on how well your building is protected from the weather, particularly if you are managing a commercial or industrial property. A well-liked and proven choice is built-up felt (BUR) roofing. Tsamuels Roofing provides professional services to guarantee your roofing system endures the test of time if you're thinking about implementing BUR on your property. We'll go over all you need to know about Built-Up Felt services in this extensive guide, including their advantages, how they're installed, and why Tsamuels Roofing ought to be your first choice.

What is Built-Up Felt Roofing?

Built Up Felt Services (BUR) roofing, often referred to as “tar and gravel” roofing, is a type of flat roofing system that has been a staple in the roofing industry for many years. This roofing method involves layering sheets of felt (usually made from fiberglass or organic materials) and bonding them together with bitumen—a mixture of asphalt and other materials.

How Built-Up Felt Roofing Works

Imagine BUR roofing as a cake with multiple layers. Each layer of felt is embedded in bitumen, and then topped with a layer of gravel or a reflective coating. This creates a strong, waterproof barrier that protects your building from rain, snow, and UV rays. The layers work together to provide excellent insulation and durability, making BUR roofing a reliable choice for many commercial and industrial properties.

Why Choose Built-Up Felt Roofing?

There are several compelling reasons to consider BUR for your building. Let’s break down some of the key benefits:

Durability and Longevity

BUR roofing is known for its long-lasting performance. The multiple layers of felt and bitumen create a robust shield that can handle extreme weather conditions, from heavy rain to intense sunlight. It’s like having an extra layer of armor on your roof. With proper maintenance, BUR roofs can last 20 years or more, providing excellent value for your investment.

Cost-Effectiveness

One of the major advantages of BUR roofing is its cost-effectiveness. While the initial installation might be more affordable compared to some other roofing systems, the durability and longevity of BUR mean that you’ll save money in the long run. Think of it as a solid investment that pays off over time, reducing the need for frequent repairs or replacements.

Excellent Waterproofing

If you live in an area with heavy rainfall or snow, waterproofing is a top priority. BUR roofing excels in this department. The layers of felt and bitumen create a watertight seal that prevents leaks and keeps your building dry. It’s like having an impenetrable shield that keeps moisture at bay.

Reflective and Insulating Properties

BUR roofing systems can be customized with reflective coatings or gravel to enhance their energy efficiency. Reflective coatings help to deflect sunlight, reducing heat absorption and lowering cooling costs. Additionally, the multiple layers provide excellent insulation, helping to maintain a comfortable indoor temperature.

The Installation Process

Installing a Built-Up Felt roofing system involves several steps, each crucial for ensuring a durable and effective roof. Here’s a rundown of what you can expect:

1. Inspection and Preparation

Before installation begins, a thorough inspection of the existing roof is conducted. This includes checking for any damage or issues that need to be addressed. The surface is then cleaned and prepared to ensure proper adhesion of the BUR materials.

2. Application of Bitumen

The first layer of felt is applied to the roof deck and bonded with hot bitumen. This process is repeated with additional layers of felt, creating a strong, laminated surface. The bitumen acts as both an adhesive and a waterproofing agent.

3. Installation of Additional Layers

Additional layers of felt are added, each bonded with more bitumen. The number of layers can vary depending on the specific requirements of the building and the desired level of protection. Each layer is carefully applied to ensure a smooth, continuous surface.

4. Finishing Touches

The final layer typically involves the application of a protective layer, such as gravel or a reflective coating. This layer helps to protect the underlying felt from UV rays and physical damage, ensuring the longevity of the roof.

5. Inspection and Quality Assurance

Once the installation is complete, a final inspection is conducted to ensure that the BUR roofing system meets all quality standards. Any necessary adjustments or touch-ups are made to ensure a perfect finish.

Why Tsamuels Roofing is Your Best Choice

When it comes to Built-Up Felt services, Tsamuels Roofing stands out for its expertise, quality, and customer satisfaction. Here’s why:

Experienced Professionals

Tsamuels Roofing has years of experience in installing and maintaining Built-Up Felt roofing systems. Our team of skilled professionals understands the intricacies of BUR roofing and ensures that every installation is completed to the highest standards.

High-Quality Materials

We use only the best materials for our BUR roofing systems, ensuring durability and long-lasting performance. Our commitment to quality means that you get a roofing solution that stands up to the toughest conditions and provides excellent value for your investment.

Comprehensive Services

From initial consultation to final installation and maintenance, Tsamuels Roofing offers a full range of services to meet your needs. We work closely with you to understand your requirements and provide a tailored solution that fits your building and budget.

Customer Satisfaction

At Tsamuels Roofing, customer satisfaction is our top priority. We pride ourselves on delivering exceptional service and ensuring that our clients are completely satisfied with their roofing systems. Our attention to detail and commitment to quality set us apart from the competition.

Maintenance and Care for Built-Up Felt Roofing

Proper maintenance is key to extending the life of your Built-Up Felt roofing system. Here are some tips to keep your roof in top condition:

Regular Inspections

Schedule regular inspections to check for any signs of wear or damage. Early detection of issues can prevent costly repairs and ensure that your roof remains in good shape.

Clean the Roof

Keep the roof clean and free of debris. Accumulated debris can trap moisture and cause damage over time. Regular cleaning helps maintain the roof’s integrity and performance.

Check for Leaks

Inspect the roof for any signs of leaks or water damage. Addressing leaks promptly can prevent further damage and extend the lifespan of your roofing system.

Professional Maintenance

Consider hiring professionals for regular maintenance and repairs. Experienced contractors can perform thorough inspections and address any issues with expertise and efficiency.

Conclusion

Built-Up Felt (BUR) roofing is a time-tested and reliable choice for protecting your building from the elements. With its durability, cost-effectiveness, and excellent waterproofing properties, BUR roofing offers a solid solution for commercial and industrial properties. Tsamuels Roofing provides expert Built-Up Felt services to ensure that your roofing system is installed and maintained to the highest standards. By choosing Tsamuels

Roofing, you’re investing in quality and longevity for your property.

In summary, Built-Up Felt roofing provides a robust, long-lasting solution for flat and low-sloped roofs. Its layered construction offers superior protection against the elements, and when installed by professionals like Tsamuels Roofing, you can be confident in its durability and performance. Regular maintenance will keep your BUR roof in top shape, ensuring that it continues to safeguard your building effectively.

Whether you're considering a new installation or need expert maintenance, Tsamuels Roofing is here to provide top-notch Built-Up Felt services that meet your needs and exceed your expectations. Contact us today to discuss your roofing project and experience the difference of working with a trusted roofing expert.

[dnangelic]

sometimes i think abt towa and argentine in the very last manga chapter n cry

[fingertipsmp3]

I love TS2 but it has some really stupid mechanics built into it

[ketchuppee]

During the 2008 recession, my aunt lost her job. Her, her partner, and my three cousins moved across the country to stay with us while they got back on their feet. My house turned from a family of four to a family of nine overnight, complete with three dogs and five cats between us.

It took a few years for them to get a place of their own, but after a few rentals and apartments, they now own a split level ranch in a town nearby. I’ve lost track of how many coworkers and friends have stayed with them when they were in a tight spot. A mother and son getting out of an abusive relationship, a divorcee trying to stay local for his kids while they work out a custody agreement, you name it. My aunt and uncle knew first hand what that kindness meant, and always find space for someone who needed it, the way my parents had for them.

That same aunt and uncle visited me in [redacted] city last year. They are prolific drinkers, so we spent most of the day bar hopping. As we wandered the city, any time we passed a homeless person, my uncle would pull out a fresh cigarette and ask them if they had a light. Regardless of if they had a lighter on hand or not, he offered them a few bucks in exchange, which he explained to me after was because he felt it would be easier for them to accept in exchange for a service, no matter how small.

I work for a company that produces a lot of fabric waste. Every few weeks, I bring two big black trash bags full of discarded material over to a woman who works down the hall. She distributes them to local churches, quilting clubs, and teachers who can use them for crafts. She’s currently in the process of working with our building to set up a recycling program for the smaller pieces of fabric that are harder to find use for.

One of my best friends gives monthly donations to four or five local organizations. She’s fortunate enough to have a tech job that gives her a good salary, and she knows that a recurring donation is more valuable to a non-profit because they can rely on that money month after month, and can plan ways to stretch that dollar for maximum impact. One of those organizations is a native plant trust, and once she’s out of her apartment complex and in a home with a yard, she has plans to convert it into a haven of local flora.

My partner works for a company that is working to help regulate crypto and hold the current bad actors in the space accountable for their actions. We unfortunately live in a time where technology develops far too fast for bureaucracy to keep up with, but just because people use a technology for ill gain doesn’t mean the technology itself is bad. The blockchain is something that she finds fascinating and powerful, and she is using her degree and her expertise to turn it into a tool for good.

I knew someone who always had a bag of treats in their purse, on the odd chance they came across a stray cat or dog, they had something to offer them.

I follow artists who post about every local election they know of, because they know their platform gives them more reach than the average person, and that they can leverage that platform to encourage people to vote in elections that get less attention, but in many ways have more impact on the direction our country is going to go.

All of this to say, there’s more than one way to do good in the world. Social media leads us to believe that the loudest, the most vocal, the most prolific poster is the most virtuous, but they are only a piece of the puzzle. (And if virtue for virtues sake is your end goal, you’ve already lost, but that’s a different post). Community is built of people leveraging their privileges to help those without them. We need people doing all of those things and more, because no individual can or should do all of it. You would be stretched too thin, your efforts valiant, but less effective in your ambition.

None of this is to encourage inaction. Identify your unique strengths, skills, and privileges, and put them to use. Determine what causes are important to you, and commit to doing what you can to help them. Collective action is how change is made, but don’t forget that we need diversity in actions taken.

[mariacallous]

The Ocean Sciences Building at the University of Washington in Seattle is a brightly modern, four-story structure, with large glass windows reflecting the bay across the street.

On the afternoon of July 7, 2016, it was being slowly locked down.

Red lights began flashing at the entrances as students and faculty filed out under overcast skies. Eventually, just a handful of people remained inside, preparing to unleash one of the most destructive forces in the natural world: the crushing weight of about 2½ miles of ocean water.

In the building’s high-pressure testing facility, a black, pill-shaped capsule hung from a hoist on the ceiling. About 3 feet long, it was a scale model of a submersible called Cyclops 2, developed by a local startup called OceanGate. The company’s CEO, Stockton Rush, had cofounded the company in 2009 as a sort of submarine charter service, anticipating a growing need for commercial and research trips to the ocean floor. At first, Rush acquired older, steel-hulled subs for expeditions, but in 2013 OceanGate had begun designing what the company called “a revolutionary new manned submersible.” Among the sub’s innovations were its lightweight hull, which was built from carbon fiber and could accommodate more passengers than the spherical cabins traditionally used in deep-sea diving. By 2016, Rush’s dream was to take paying customers down to the most famous shipwreck of them all: the Titanic, 3,800 meters below the surface of the Atlantic Ocean.

Engineers carefully lowered the Cyclops 2 model into the testing tank nose-first, like a bomb being loaded into a silo, and then screwed on the tank’s 3,600-pound lid. Then they began pumping in water, increasing the pressure to mimic a submersible’s dive. If you’re hanging out at sea level, the weight of the atmosphere above you exerts 14.7 pounds per square inch (psi). The deeper you go, the stronger that pressure; at the Titanic’s depth, the pressure is about 6,500 psi. Soon, the pressure gauge on UW’s test tank read 1,000 psi, and it kept ticking up—2,000 psi, 5,000 psi. At about the 73-minute mark, as the pressure in the tank reached 6,500 psi, there was a sudden roar and the tank shuddered violently.

“I felt it in my body,” an OceanGate employee wrote in an email later that night. “The building rocked, and my ears rang for a long time.”

“Scared the shit out of everyone,” he added.

The model had imploded thousands of meters short of the safety margin OceanGate had designed for.

In the high-stakes, high-cost world of crewed submersibles, most engineering teams would have gone back to the drawing board, or at least ordered more models to test. Rush’s company didn’t do either of those things. Instead, within months, OceanGate began building a full-scale Cyclops 2 based on the imploded model. This submersible design, later renamed Titan, eventually made it down to the Titanic in 2021. It even returned to the site for expeditions the next two years. But nearly one year ago, on June 18, 2023, Titan dove to the infamous wreck and imploded, instantly killing all five people onboard, including Rush himself.

The disaster captivated and horrified the world. Deep-sea experts criticized OceanGate’s choices, from Titan’s carbon-fiber construction to Rush’s public disdain for industry regulations, which he believed stifled innovation. Organizations that had worked with OceanGate, including the University of Washington as well as the Boeing Company, released statements denying that they contributed to Titan.

A trove of tens of thousands of internal OceanGate emails, documents, and photographs provided exclusively to WIRED by anonymous sources sheds new light on Titan’s development, from its initial design and manufacture through its first deep-sea operations. The documents, validated by interviews with two third-party suppliers and several former OceanGate employees with intimate knowledge of Titan, reveal never-before-reported details about the design and testing of the submersible. They show that Boeing and the University of Washington were both involved in the early stages of OceanGate’s carbon-fiber sub project, although their work did not make it into the final Titan design. The trove also reveals a company culture in which employees who questioned their bosses’ high-speed approach and decisions were dismissed as overly cautious or even fired. (The former employees who spoke to WIRED have asked not to be named for fear of being sued by the families of those who died aboard the vessel.) Most of all, the documents show how Rush, blinkered by his own ambition to be the Elon Musk of the deep seas, repeatedly overstated OceanGate’s progress and, on at least one occasion, outright lied about significant problems with Titan’s hull, which has not been previously reported.

A representative for OceanGate, which ceased all operations last summer, declined to comment on WIRED’s findings.

[bunnys-kisses]

baby fever

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talk, breeding/pregnancy, filthy, husband!price, slight age gap (reader is early 20s, price late 30s), military formal wear, oral (m receiving), doggy style, unprotected

bunny says: i thought about built/chubby price and him in his military formals and my brain turned off. this was the end result.

price wasn't beating the bear allegations. while he wasn't a gay bear, he knew that there were a lot of women who loved his physique. dusting of hair, built but enjoyed a good sunday roast. thick fingers and broad tongue. he was a built man after his years of service.

but if price had to pin you as an animal, it would be his little chickadee. small and fragile with a cute little song. the most loveliest thing he had ever laid his eyes on. no wonder within a year of dating, you were already engaged.

price knew when he had a good thing going and didn't want to ruin it. you were still in university, but he'd never make his darling girl quit school for his sake.

"'ey, love." he said as he walked past you on your laptop. he leaned in and kissed the side of your neck, "studyin' well?"

you looked over and smiled at him, "of course, big bear." you took him by the face and kissed him on the cheek. your engagement ring gleamed in the light of the living room.

but even the brightest university students could easily crumble against a man like price. it didn't help that there was a spike in your baby fever. it was almost embarrassing when you watched price in the living room, shining his uniform boots. it also didn't help when he was making sure that formal attire still fit.

he noticed you staring, you didn't try to hide it.

he stood there in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom. the beret, the jacket, the medals. hands on his hips as he looked at you. he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the sight of your jaw almost on the floor.

"tryin' to see if everythin' still fit. need to go back to the gym, your cookin' is gonna be the death of me, love." he chuckled. he dragged his tongue across his top teeth and said, "now that i know, why don't ya help me get out of it."

maybe a man in uniform was your (not-so) secret kink. you've seen him in everything under the sun, but every time it still made your throat dry. you were in your sunday pajamas, paired with fuzzy slippers.

he reached out for you, "ya like when i'm dressed like this, huh?" he chuckled as he tilted his head down to kiss the top of your head.

"i mean." you said, "you look good." you blushed a little bit more and looked away from him, but he took you by the chin to look at him. those blue eyes peered into yours.

"don't be shy, love." he said, "i like when ya stare."

you held onto the front of his jacket, the thick material felt heavy in your grasp. you could feel the wetness between your legs. damn price. you said, "you look good, big bear."

he reached down and took a handful of your ass, "and you look even better, my chickadee. now c'mon, undress yer man." then licked his top lip at the sight of your delicate hands trying to undo the formal jacket. he then took you by the head again and said, "pants first." then helped you onto your knees.

you swallowed and looked up at him. if anyone looked inside, they'd see a weird power dynamic. but all price saw was an eager little birdie trying to get her hands on her husband.

"those medals look nice." you said as he reached for his belt.

he chuckled, "not as nice as your lips on my cock." then dragged a hand through your hair. the belt soon came off as his pants were unzipped. he was thankful that he knew how to get any stains out of his uniform, because he knew you were a messy girl.

you took his cock out of his slacks. it stood was full attention and even after all this time together, the sight of it was still arousing. cut, thick, a deep pink (not quite red) and almost eight inches in length. you once joked it was a "porno dick".

you kissed the underside of it with such warmth that it made the man shudder. then started the slow, small licks against the shaft. you chuckled to yourself at the feeling of his cock under your tongue. he felt like a dream.

"that's a good girl. my darlin' girl." he said with a hint of pride in his voice. he loved the sight of you on his knees. even if the sweat down his back was making the heavy jacket more uncomfortable.

you stroked the base of his cock with one hand while you put your mouth fully on the tip. you teased it with wet strokes of you tongue. you could hear the gruff noise your husband made.

you squirmed a little while on your knees and could feel a dull throb between your legs. price's cock was an impressive sight and a task to fully get in your mouth.

"ya got a small mouth, love.' he remarked jokingly, "too small for all of this. but i know you'll do your best.' he combed his fingers through your hair once more before it rested on the back of your head.

he supported your head while you continued to orally pleasure him. he loved his woman on her knees in front of him. while he held you in high regard, he thought you were the sweetest things since strawberries on cake, but there was something about seeing HIS woman like this.

you looked up at him and a groan got caught in his throat. you gave him a cute little wink before you continued to stroke him off. your other hand was on his strong thigh for support as you pleasured him.

"oh sweet fuck." he groaned.

you knew you'd never take all of him in your throat but you made the most of what you could. his cock was heavy in your mouth as you continued to move your head.

he gripped the back of your head, he felt hot all over as pleasure pumped through his veins. he loved his girl, his darling sweet angel. yeah the age difference was to raise an eyebrow at. but if they knew the angel he managed to get a ring on, they'd understand.

his little chickadee.

you looked up at him once more. the way he looked down at you with a guiding hand on the back of your head. you pulled your mouth off his cock and looked up at him with your tongue out of your mouth.

"fuckin' doll eyes." he said, "get back to what you were doin', i want to see you take every last drop."

you once again went back to orally pleasuring him. your hand dug into the meat of his thigh as you tried to take more of his cock in your throat. the noises that came from your husband made your core ache.

the bright pink in his cheeks made you smile as he messed up with hair with his broad hands. he felt so big next to you. his little precious wife doing everything in her power to get him off.

with a few more thrusts of your head with his cock nudging the back of your throat. you moved to keep the tip against your tongue as he came down your throat. you didn't want to choke on his cum but you savored every last salty drop.

maybe a man in uniform did things to you.

when you pulled away, you looked up at him. "i want you, john." you said as you licked your lips and wiped your chin with the back of your hand, "i want to have your babies." the baby fever was thrumming in your veins, "fuck me, big bear."

he raised an eyebrow, "babies, huh? i thought you wanted to be a working woman." he said cheekily.

you rose to your feet, your legs were shaky as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform jacket and kissed him deeply. you almost toppled over him but he held you by the middle for support. when you pulled away, you panted as you said, "breed me price, or i'll find someone else to do it."

his expression darkened, "don't be sayin' things like that, love." he pulled you close to him. his cock was still hard between you two, "you better not run off with some runt." he kissed your heated cheek, "now face down, ass up, chickadee."

you pulled away from him and turned towards the bed. you shredded your clothes and almost threw yourself onto the large mattress. your face against the pillow with your back arched and hips raised.

you felt the bed sink soon after with your husband's large hands on your hips and his cock rested against your ass.

"your uniform." you squeaked.

"i'll iron it tonight." he replied, "right now, my darlin' girl needs her pussy fucked." his vulgar language made a shiver run through you.

when he bottomed out into your pussy, you felt the air escape your lungs. you clutched onto the pillow. he got a perfect view of your backside, his gaze felt hungry against you.

"please."

"my darlin' girl." price said softly. he leaned in and kissed you on the shoulder. you felt like a tight heat around him. "my beautiful wife." price adored that you were his wife. that you decided to marry him, now he got to feel up your beautiful figure every moment.

"god, john." you moaned, "was it always this damn big?"

he chuckled lowly, "you make me hard, love. i see ya and i just go wild." he then started to kiss at your shoulders and neck.

you held onto the pillow and panted in the pillows. you felt the sweat at your back as you were fucked. you panted into the fabric and felt your husband thrust into you.

"sweeter than jam and more fuckable than a toy." he chuckled lowly as he began to pick up the pace. he could feel your heat under him, you were a dream in his eyes.

the precious wife to be a beloved captain, almost twenty years her senior. the bed creaked under your movements and the sweet sounds of your sex filled the air. it was also joined by your sweet noises that encouraged your husband to keep fucking you.

you felt hot all over as the man fucked you. the pleasure rolled through your body as you moved against the bed. you panted and moaned into the pillow and let your husband thrust into you.

"my sweet girl." he purred.

"please, john." you whined.

the sex between you two felt hot, like you were on a knife's edge as he rutted against you. you could feel the heat pool in your gut as he moved against you. sweat clung to your chest and neck. your hair stuck against your skin.

"that's it." he murmured. his cock throbbed inside of you.

your love making continued, you pushed the hair out of your eyes the more he fucked you from behind. your hands were deep in the pillow as you moaned into the fabric.

price loved the sight of you. he just thought that you looked amazing, HIS girl was like this under him. he was your big strong bear and he loved the sight of you under him. just a dream to him. his heat raced in his hairy chest as he placed more weight on you.

"shit, john." you groaned.

"I got ya. i'll be finishin' in ya soon. give ya all the babes you want." he chuckled as he kissed your heated cheek. his thrusts were quick and made you see stars behind your lids.

you were heated all over and your head was swimming. you panted wildly into the bed and with a few more strokes of his cock, you came around him.

price groaned at intense heat around his cock. he went as fast as he could and felt the sweat down his toned back. he pressed himself further into you and finished.

his cum shot to the back of your cunt and you let out a pleased noise. his pace slowed down until he stopped and pulled out. he wiped the sweat from his forehead and scratched his hairy chest, "how's that, love?"

you laid fully flat on the bed and nodded your head, "we're going to have to keep goin' though, big bear. you've done so much damage to yourself that your swimmers aren't as strong as they used to be." so you rolled onto your back and reached for him, "c'mon. fuck me again."

he chuckled as he leaned back on his heels and stroked his cock, "of course chickadee. anythin' for ya."

[sassmill]

Just successfully went for a 25 ish minute walk/jog

[fum1ku]

aaaa hi there! i absolutely love your writing and i just saw that your requests are open!

do you mind writing love confessions (when they admit their feelings to reader) with some of the hq boys? sakusa, osamu, and whoever else you'd like to write for! 🤍

LOVE CONFESSIONS - HQ BOYS

ft. osamu miya, kiyoomi sakusa, koushi sugawara, tobio kageyama, hajime iwaizumi

thank you so much for your request! i hope i did it some kind of justice<3

OSAMU: it has ended up being just you and him outside the gym after practice. atsumu has to run a quick “errand”, and he swore he was going to be back in a quick second. but it had been nearly.. 30 minutes now?

osamu pulled the bento he had made the night before out of his bag.

“y’know, i don’t think he’s coming back..” you said, frowning.

samu had set the bento down between the both of you, pulling out a set of chopsticks. “yeah, i don’t think so either.. what an idiot,” he paused, looking at the chopsticks in his hand. “sorry, i only have one set..”

you looked down between the two of you to find his perfectly prepared bento.

“oh! thank you, ‘samu!” you smiled. “and it’s alright. i don’t mind sharing!”

you both ate in silence for awhile. you quietly laughed to yourself when the memory of what atsumu had said to you a few weeks prior had popped into your head.

“y’know, atsumu told me this funny thing awhile ago..”

samu hummed in response.

“he said you liked me. crazy, right?”

osamu nearly choked on the rice in his mouth.

goddamnit atsumu. that fatass mouth of his.

osamu finally composed himself, turning to take a glimpse of the expression on your face. but, there wasn’t much to read. you softly smiled, looking off into the sunset behind the trees.

god, you were so pretty.

“y/n?”

“osamu?”

he took a breath in. “what if.. i did?” and out.

you smiled, “then i’d say you should make up your mind already because i’ve been waiting awhile, ‘samu.”

he chuckled. “got out with me then?”

“alright.”

maybe atsumu had actually done him a service after all.

atsumu jumped out from behind the building. “fuckin’ told ya they liked ya, ‘samu! dumbass.”

or maybe he spoke too soon.

KIYOOMI: he was reserved. he was hard to get to know from an outside perspective. but to you, that only drew you further and further into the mystery kiyoomi himself.

he wasn’t the most.. intact with his emotions. he didn’t understand them, really. he didn’t know why he felt a pang in his chest when you’d smile at him. he didn’t understand why his hands would go sweaty when you’d stand so close to him—or even why he was so okay with you standing so close to him. but he was. he was and he didn’t understand it. and the only reason he ever did was because he turned to outside advice.

he called atsumu over after the msby jackal’s practice one day. he grudgingly explained every last detail to him.

atsumu chuckled in response. “omi, you like ‘em! you couldn’t realize that on yer own?”

he.. liked you?

“now, now, omi, like me show ya how it’s done!” atsumu beamed, grabbing his phone out of his pocket and began typing.

he heard the ping of the message he just received.

what in the hell was he doing..

atsumu wrapped an arm around sakusa. “there ya go! now y/n knows you like ‘em. just had to convince them i wasn’t messin’ with them first. rest is up to you, omi-omi!”

kiyoomi winced at the feeling of atsumu arms around him, sliding out from his grip and trudging off into the locker room.

“idiot.”

he really did like you.

KOUSHI: he absolutely adored everything about you. and as soon as he’s built up the courage, you bet he’s confessing to you. on one hand, you accept his confession and then he has the love of his life. on the other hand, you turn him down and, hey, at least the waiting game is over.

well, today he has finally built up that courage.

he was hanging out in the halls with daichi and asahi between classes. students rushed this way and that. but he was only looking for one person in particular.

you came rushing down the stairs well.

there. now or never.

he watched as you walked passed him.

“y/n!” he shouted, slightly jogging to catch up with you.

“koushi! hi!” you smiled.

god, he loved the way you said his name.

“what are you up to?”

you both kept making your way downstairs, together.

“not much! i just gotta run over the store for my mom’s last minute dinner plans. you? anything exciting?”

he stopped walking, causing you to stop too and give him a questioning look.

now or never.

“actually.. i was wondering. no. uhm, actually,” he took a deep breath. “i like you, y/n. a lot.”

you softly gasped, a look of surprise painted on your face.

“if you don’t feel the same, i understand,” he went on, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “please don’t feel pressured or anything.”

the halls had been cleared by now—leaving just you two. alone. together.

you laughed. “oh, koushi. you’re so silly. of course i feel the same! who wouldn’t?”

who wouldn’t?

he breathed a sigh of relief. “okay well that’s good because i was starting to get a little nervous there!”

you started walking again, him trailing behind.

“hey, what if walked you home after practice?” you smiled. “i’ll run to the store in between and i’m sure you guys will be done by then!”

“yeah, yeah i’d really like that actually..”

TOBIO: took him literally forever to confess. really, forever. it was a process for him. he noticed you, realized he liked you, actually admitted to himself that he liked you, and then, once he was past that point, he began to wonder if you even liked him too. he’s a deep thinker; sometimes. most of the time—okay, maybe only when it came to volleyball. but he didn’t take things with you lightly.

it was late one night after practice. hinata had begged you to stay behind with him and kageyama to keep working on their quick attack after everyone else had headed home for the night.

“normally yachi would, but she has something going on with her mom. i think,” hinata began. “but, please stay with us! tobio, c’mon, help me convince y/n—”

it had caught tobio off guard. “o-oh. yeah. please, y/n. if you could throw us a few sets that would be great. thank you.”

you laughed. “okay, i’m convinced! but only a few. both of you need to get home at some point, y’know?”

“right!” they both agreed.

you threw them a few sets and watched their process—the way it seemed as though hinata truly flew threw the air to reach kageyama’s sets. but, more so, you were focused on the intensity in kageyama’s eyes.

you repeated the process over and over again. “one more!” they would say, and of course you agreed. the whole attack was.. mesmerizing to watch.

“one more!” hinata begged. “just one more! please!”

“hinata, it’s late. last one, i mean it,” you agreed. “we still have to walk home y’know!”

hinata and kageyama both gave a quick nod.

both of them were intensely focused—this would be the one they nailed. but either way, this was your last. anymore and you thought your arms might fall off.

you watched as the ball bounced off the other side of the court, bouncing off the floor all the way to the back wall. they really were something else.

“okay you two clean up the rest of our stuff and i’ll put the cart away!”

you soon found all three of yourselves out in the cool evening air. hinata walked alongside his bike while you and kageyama trailed behind. hinata rambled on about the quick attack—something about a bunch of “whooshes” and “pows”, whatever that meant. you didn’t pay much attention to him, focused on kageyama and the sleepiness you could see in his face.

“alright, i’ll see you guys tomorrow at practice!” hinata smiled, turning down the road opposite of you. he trailed off, saying something about how him and kageyema would get it tomorrow.

just you and kageyama then.

you stayed silent for awhile, not sure of what to say. you’d looks in kageyama’s direction every once-in-awhile. he looked.. peaceful, in some strange way.

“the quick attack is coming along nicely. don’t you think so?” you mused.

he paused for a moment. “yeah, i guess so. it’s just.. i wish i could do better. just as a setter in general, i mean.”

you hummed in response. “you don’t give yourself enough credit y’know.”

he almost stopped dead in his tracks. he was so sure about what he felt for you—he had a hard time admitting it, but it didn’t go away. it was still there, even after the months that had passed.

“y/n?”

“yeah?” you smiled.

“i.. i like you.”

without missing a beat you replied. “i like you too!”

and then it hit you. did he mean..?

you could immediately see the blush that overtook his face, even when he turned to look at the ground beneath him.

“you—you do?” he questioned.

“wait. do you mean..” you paused. “like, you like-like me?”

“yeah.. sorry that wasn’t clear before,” he let out a soft sigh.

you felt heat rise to your cheeks. embarrassment and giddiness. “kageyama, you.. you really don’t know?”

your response caused him to take his gaze off the ground and look back up at you.

“what do you mean?”

you laughed. uncontrollably laughed. “i’m—i’m sorry! I don’t mean to laugh, i promise. i just.. you didn’t know already?”

he was absolutely puzzled. “know.. what?”

“tobio kageyama you can’t be serious! everyone knows. well, except you, i guess,” you giggled. “i like you, kageyama. i mean, i have for months. i just figured you knew and didn’t feel the same.”

“oh.”

you finally stopped walking altogether, now right outside your front gate. tobio stood right in front of you, close enough do that the tips of your shoes nearly touched.

you took his hands in yours. “but, i’m glad you like me too. really glad.”

you smiled up at him, noticing the light dust of blush still left on his cheeks. you stood on your tiptoes and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“goodnight, tobio. i’ll see you at practice tomorrow!” you winked, happily making your way towards your front door.

he walked home with his hand glued to his cheek in the spot you kissed him.

HAJIME: to him, it wasn’t the least bit apparent that you liked him. he just assumed you liked oikawa. you were always there, hanging around the two of them. surely it was only for oikawa, right?

you, iwaizumi, and oikawa has caught the train home together after school. iwaizumi immediately sat down and put his earbuds in to drown out the scene he thought was about to unfold between you and oikawa. even though he couldn’t hear, he still could make out the facial expressions.

you were smiling. okay, of to a good start. of course oikawa was smiling too. you said something. oikawa was still smiling. and now you.. weren’t? not good. oikawa must’ve rejected you. wait now you were both looking at him? and now you were.. laughing? okay, not what he expected.

the train suddenly came to a stop as the doors slid open and people began filing out. hajime watched as you stood up. you gave your goodbye to oikawa, turning to face hajime. you smiled and waved goodbye to him as you made your way out the door.

were you always that sweet?

the doors closed and the train began moving along the tracks again. oikawa moved across and plopped down next to iwaizumi, who paid no attention to him.

suddenly the music stopped.

“you little shit.. what gives, oikawa?”

“woah, woah, iwa-chan! calm down.” oikawa smirked. “jealous much?”

“oh shut up. i’ve got nothing to be jealous of.”

oikawa laughed. “yeah, you really don’t. you don’t even know.”

oikawa turned away to face the opposite way of hajime.

wait.. he didn’t?

“hey, no, what do you mean, oikawa? what did you do?”

“hey, hey! i didn’t do anything. i just told y/n what you should’ve told them a long time ago.”

iwaizumi was fuming at this point. “you told them i liked them as soon as they confused to you? that makes perfect sense, oikawa. nice.”

“woah—woah! confessed to me? wow, iwa, you really are dense!”

iwa gave him a puzzled expression.

what did he mean?

“they were going to confess to you, iwa. but you sat down in your corner to pout instead. they’ve been trying to tell you for the past week now!”

“they.. they were?”

oikawa sighed, picking up iwaizumi’s phone. he was in too much shock to do anything about it. you liked him. you liked.. him? you liked him!

“there ya go, iwa! now you’ve got their number. i’d suggest texting them sooner rather than later.”

oikawa moved to talk to the group of schoolgirls across the train, leaving iwaizumi to think about all that had just unfolded.

hajime stared down at the new contact in his phone. one deep breath and he started typing. another deep breath and he actually wrote out the words. one last deep breath and.. sent.

he quickly shoved his phone in his back pocket.

“i like you too.”

© fum1ku 2024.

⁂ taglist: @chloiyoomi @eashn + let me know if you want to be added! 💌

[lizzobetumblin]

Melissa hated her feelings. 

She buried them in a chest in the 5th grade (along with her ability to express them). Other peoples' feelings on the other hand was her forte. She could process, decipher and regurgitate other peoples emotions effortlessly. This gift could’ve taken her through college, all the way to a degree in psychology. Distinguished Dr. Jefferson with a PhD and a cozy office and impressive roster of high-profile, weallthy clients was a shiny idea. Fate would have a different hand for Melissa her talents were exhausted on mediating family fights, friend group drama, and charming her way out of confronting her own feelings. 

“Feelings.” Even saying it out loud to herself seemed silly. Something reserved for ‘cry babies’ and water signs. Typical Sunday nights started tame, reading or writing fan-fiction and drinking cranapple juice. And then like clock work her father would yell her name, 

‘MELISSA!!!’ Emotionless, she’d get up dust off her Winnie the Pooh shorts and make her way downstairs. On the long walk down the hall to the stairs leading to the living room brawl, she’d go through her check list: 

1.) Don’t cry.   

 2.) Stay neutral; Deescalate

3.)Don’t take anything personal. This isn’t about you

She padded down the carpeted stairs in her old soft socks to see her mother tightlipped and tear streaked thinking, 

‘she broke rule number 1’. Her father, Michael was proud and angry, his big belly filled with self righteousness. She knew he would be unyielding in his resolve and at this point her only option was to deescalate.

 ‘Rule number 2’. Then her sister the water sign and calamity for the evening sat on the floor nearly fetal, face red and raw with emotion. 

‘Its not your fault’ Melissa wanted to say ‘You just didn’t follow the rules… you’re loved.’ But she couldn’t say that because she’d be breaking rule number 3. It wasn’t about how Melissa felt. Even though she felt like screaming,

“VANESSA, YOU DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. DAD—YOU JUST HAVE PENT UP ANGER BECAUSE YOU GREW UP IN THE HOOD OF DETROIT AS A BLACK MAN IN THE 60s AND 70s. YOU NEED A HEALTHY OUTLET LIKE.. I DONT KNOW… THERAPY?!?!?! THIS IS A WASTE OF ALL OF OUR TIME. I LITERALLY JUST WROTE THE BEST SAILOR SATURN x CHIBI USA FANFICTION EVER AND THIS IS KILLING MY VIBE!”

Instead, she decide to hear every one out. She decided to help. To calm her dragon of a father down. To be a translator for her emotional sister. To not take it personal. To stay neutral. To not cry. 

9 years later, at her fathers funeral she still never broke the rules. She played her flute and spoke at his memorial. She was present for her mother because it wasn’t about her. When other peoples' emotions bubbled up she stayed neutral. She sat through both services and she did not cry. It wasn’t until she excused herself to make a phone call outside did she collapse onto the stairs of the funeral home and weep alone in the cold Detroit snow. 

It’s okay to break the rules sometimes, she reminded herself. As long as no one else sees it.

Traumas began to compact on Melissa, as they do. Humans tend to collect traumas like pebbles on a long hike. We toss them into our backpacks and keep moving forward. Some hikers would falter, but Melissa was built for this. She’d carried the stones of her family’s traumas uphill for years. She was strong. 

When men began to befriend and reject her, saying ‘you’re too good for me’ but not too good to make them feel good. She carried that. 

When childhood friends began to cut off the strings of her heart, saying ‘We can’t be friends anymore’. She carried that.

When her family separated like dandelion seeds, it seemed like they’d never be together again. Melissa slept on so many couches, floors and car seats sometimes she didn’t know if she’d see them again. 

She carried that. 

Dying was never an option though sometimes she didn’t mind the thought of it. Peace and warmth were two things she’d desperately yearned and hadn’t felt fully since the womb. Then one night in the pitch black of the hot, sweaty, roach-infested studio in southeast Houston she slept in she wondered:

‘Why can’t I break the rules?’ She’d seen everyone else in her life break them like popsicle sticks. And she didn’t just want to break the rules, she wanted to break them boldly and loudly and annoyingly and honestly and sloppily like every one else gets to do. It was in that moment, tucked in a thin jacket inside of an 8-foot high instrument cubby in the inky darkness—it hit her. 

‘Is my suffering for a high purpose? Or is my suffering trying to kill me?’ 

She cried. 

She escalated. 

She took it personal. 

But it wasn’t enough. She wanted to scream in a microphone in a sea of shadowy faces. She drank whiskey and wove her pain into rock music. 

‘Music is my boyfriend’ she declared. The only man that kept his baggage to hisself. And it healed her. It gave her voice reason and purpose. 

The pebble-laden hike became lighter with time. The incline eventually evened out to flat, beautiful landscapes where the breeze finally met her back. She knew it wasn’t gonna be easy or sunshine but even the rain cleansed her and it was beautiful too. 

Somewhere in the rain she decided rules were meant to be built and broken. Like trust and love and friendships and families. Because every thing deserves the opportunity to change and grow. 

So... She broke rule number 1 on stage while singing a beautiful song. Dr. Jefferson (PhD) screamed for her to stop but she didn’t listen and the tears flowed like rivers of emotion down her cheeks. 

Rule number 2 was broken when she grew older and saw the injustices of the world. Marching with hundreds in protest she realized not everything needs to be pacified. 

And one day when she finally fell in love, she broke rule number 3. No matter how much training she’d done she couldn't help but take every thing her lover said and did personal. But it was ok. Because in all her resistance she realized breaking rules was her power. 

Melissa began to fall for her feelings. Her feelings gave life purpose. They weren’t always logical, as feelings seldom are. They were sloppy and embarrassing and rude and so fucking uncomfortable. But they were hers. And they were real. And when she sat alone sipping wine, staring at the moon…They were the only ones still by her side. Ready to break the rules for her because they loved her. 

And she finally loved them back. 

[amaranthineghost]

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🥥 ꒱ in the tumbleweeds ( lando norris. )

cowboy!lando norris x city girl!reader

your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere. just when you begin to lose hope, a big truck pulls up in front of you and out hops two country boys to help you get your car up and running again

authors note: in honor of me going to the austin grand prix in october, here's cowboy lando (ft. cowboy oscar)

“NO, NO, NO,” YOU HAD WHINED as your car had slowed to stop. the tiny dial on the speedometer had slowed bounced its way down, and down, and down until it had hit zero. now here you were, in your mysteriously broken down car on the side of the road! not to mention, you were in the countryside, the middle of nowhere.

all you could do was groan as you twisted the keys out of ignition, after you had smacked the horn with your palm in frustration. you could already feel the heat seeping through the window as the air conditioning had given out—as well as the entire car. 

a frown etched itself on your face, sighing as you used the parking brake—just in case as you would’ve just ended it if your car had begun rolling off after getting out to check. a huffed groan fell from your lips as you struggled with the stubborn brake, which hadn’t been used since you’d gotten the car. 

swiping a hand across your forehead at the strain, you opened the driver’s side door to step out—not before checking the road to see that the way was clear of upcoming cars. 

as soon as the door had cracked open, you could feel the blistering country heat beating down on your body. a soft whimper fell from your lips as the car door slammed shut behind you, raising an arm to cover the sun rays that hindered your sight.

you felt helpless as you turned to look at your car—you had no clue what you were doing! you were not a mechanic, and you were sure as hell not built for this type of heat. you pulled out the phone you had slipped into your back pocket, hand on your forehead as you fingered through your hair. 

your jaw clenched at the no service signal, rendering the device completely useless. just your luck to be stuck, in the middle of nowhere, with no cell service. just you and your broken down car, a few items of belonging in the trunk for your road trip.

hopelessness and panic started to sink in as you bit your cheek to hold back the tears, a hand still on your head as the other went to your hip. you circled the car in ponder—you had no clue where you were. you had no clue where the nearest repair shop was—if there even was one in this barren land. you huffed as you looked at the desert surrounding you—an impeccable view you do admit—with tall mountains in the distance and sparse cacti—and to your surprise, a lone tumbleweed that danced its way across the asphalt road.

your eyes followed the dead bush as it blew, somewhat bewildered at the sight since you’d never seen such in person—only in western movies you’d watch in the comfort of your apartment in the city.

your gaze from the bundle of weeds was torn away when you heard an approaching car from further down the road—actually, you had heard the obscenely loud and blaring country music from the vehicle before the wheels of the car against the road. your brows furrowed on your face as you glanced with squinted eyes at the approaching truck. an uneasy feeling bubbled in your tummy and you felt your hair standing on end at the sight of the big, intimidating truck that was getting closer and closer.

you swallowed thickly as you watched the truck pull off the road right after where you stood in front of your—much smaller and noticeably cleaner—car that looked massively out of place in the dusty surroundings. the music that disrupted the silence was cut-off as the keys were ripped out of the ignition, now met with tranquility as the air around settled.

it wasn’t long after that two guys had opened their respective doors, stepping out of the tall, dirtied, scraped truck. their boots scuffed against the tiny pebbles that littered the asphalt as they slammed the doors shut once again. 

you eyed the pair—but it was the driver who initially caught your eye. with dirtied cowboy boots, tight jeans that hugged his thighs and were speckled with dirt, a button-down shirt with a few too many undone—enough to show off his tanned and toned chest—a dusting of facial hair on his face, and curls peeking out from the cowboy hat that sat a little too low on his head, he walked his way over. alongside him, you assumed was his friend, who wore basically the same thing, except lacking the attempt to be a piece of eye candy.

you were a little stunned as they approached—i mean what if these incredibly attractive and muscled cowboys tried to kill you? it's not like you’d mind, they were hot enough to get away with it, but you just had to trust they wouldn’t—that they had the best intentions at heart.

you watched as the driver had taken the toothpick from between his teeth in between his index and middle fingers, his voice coming out gruffly with a heavy accent, “howdy, li’l lady,” he tapped his hat with a finger in greeting, seemingly too lazy to tip it off after a long days work, “wha’s wrong wit’ y’car?”

you watched his eyes dance between your face—and appearance—and back to your car, which appeared to be fine, but they had seen you standing on the side of the road.

you hummed, pursing your lips as you scratched the back of your head nervously while glancing back at your ride, “uh…” you stuttered slightly, letting out a breathless, nervous chuckle as you grimaced at your inability to get your words out, “it just stopped working.”

“well, tha’s no good,” he mumbled, a smirk on his face as he listened to your smooth voice, another nod to the fact you were not from around these parts, “mind if me and my buddy, oscar, here take a look, ma’am?” 

he threw a thumb in his friend’s direction, who was much paler in comparison, an eye squinted because of the sun as he stood awkwardly with his arms crossed against his chest.

you breathed a sigh of relief, saving you the pain of having to ask for his help—making him go out of his way if he didn’t offer to begin with. you nod, “please, if it's not too much of a hassle for you-”

he waved his hand dismissively, “nonsense, ‘s no problem to help out a pretty girl such as yerself,” he ignored the eye roll from his buddy beside him, nodding his head in gesture to the front of your car, “pop the hood f’me, would ya?”

you nodded quickly with a hum in response to tell him you heard him as you quickly did just that. you opened the car door, another noise surpassing your lips at the heat that had already accumulated in the car. the fact it was humid was just the cherry on top to make you even more miserable. nonetheless, you shook your head and dismissed the heat. Instead, you had done what the country boy had asked—after oscar had leaned against your open passenger side window to tell you how because you had never needed to before. 

a breathless thanks falling from your lips earned a small smile from him, tilting his head in acknowledgement as you once again stepped out from the car. you walked to the front of the car, hands on your hips and eyes squinted as you felt the sweat drip down your face.

you turned your body away from the sun, watching intently as lando had rolled up the sleeves of his button-up, revealing sweat-dirtied skin and veins from hard, strained work. you eyed his hands—already messy from the day's work they had done—and he had noticed, but he decided to not comment on it so soon.

part of you felt bad—they had probably just got done doing laborious tasks in the blistering, country heat and now you were making—they offered—them help you get your car up and running again.

you heard a hum fall from his lips as he settled his sleeves at his elbows, “le’s take a look ‘ere,” he mumbled to himself, taking the gloves that hung out of his back pocket and slipping them on to protect himself from the heated engine. a tinge of disappointment ran through your body at the fact he was covering up his hands, but there was plenty more of him to stare at—what?

you mentally shook your head—you just met the guy! he could probably—he did—see that you were checking him out head to toe. the way his biceps clearly filled out that button-up, the outline of his chest against the loose fitting torso of the fabric, the way the blue denim hugged his thighs just perfectly and fell loose below his knees, the bunched fabric at his elbows, the toothpick bitten between his teeth that slightly indented his bottom lip. you had to force yourself to peel your eyes away from the poor guy before you got lost in the way the sweat dripped down his neck.

his forearms leaned against the front of your car as he hunched over the engine, his gloved hands working through all the possible problems. every now and then, he swiped the back of his hand across his forehead to rid his face of the sweat.

you watched as his friend hovered beside him, offering enlightening suggestions to what could be wrong-

“aha!” his small celebration cut through the silence as your gaze once again settled on him, watching as he stood up, stretching an arm across his chest and his neck to the side briefly, “i see wha’s the problem.”

you looked to him with widened eyes, finding his gaze already on you as you swallowed nervously, “can it be fixed?” you asked, your voice sounding smaller than you would’ve liked—i mean the possibility of you getting out of here relied on the men in front of you.

“no, yeah, ‘ll be able to fix ���er up in no time, but…” he shook his head, shutting the hood back as he leaned forward on his hands as they rested on the car, “ ‘ll hafta come back t’morrow, y’know.”

you nodded in sullen understanding—even though, no, you didn’t know—you sighed at the thought of sleeping in your hot, humid, broken car on the side of the road for the night, in the middle of nowhere.

oscar piped up, uncrossing his arms to lift his hands as he spoke, “actually, i might have a few tools-”

lando patted his hand against oscar’s chest, chuckling as he shook his head, “don't listen to ‘im ‘ere, he don’t know what he’s sayin’! must be the heat gettin’ to that empty head of ‘is! y’know wha tha’s like, yeah?”

you hum in confused agreement, your lips pulling into a straight line as you nod slowly, “uh, yeah… sure.”

he chuckles breathlessly, raising a hand towards you that says ‘see, you get it.’ “musta forgot we left them tools back at ‘r house!” he shakes his head as his empty chuckles die down, ignoring the glaring side eye from his friend, “now won't you give us a minute ‘ere, li’l lady.” he flashes a smile before grabbing a fist full of oscar’s shirt, hauling him off to the side of the road as they stand off in the dry, dusty dirt.

you watched as they seemed to get into very passionate conversation—and listen in. it's not like they were being quiet in the first place, you couldn't help but hear the words that left their mouths in hushed whispers—though most of it was in a thicker accent than when she spoke to them directly.

“what are you sayin’?!”

“what am i sayin’? what are you sayin’?” he shakes his head with a scoff, throwing a hand back in gesture towards the car, “y’know we can fix the damn car with the tools back in ‘r truck!”

“c’mon, osc, jus’ humor me this once!”

“yer bein’ an idiot, off yer rocker or sumthin’” he shakes his head with his hands on his hips like a disappointed mother as his boot taps against the ground, “yer hopeless.”

lando ignored the last comments from oscar as he walked back towards where you stood as he peeled the gloves from his hands, shoving them into his back pocket once again. he stood before you with his thumbs through his belt loops, looking down at you as he spoke.

he sniffled quietly, his nose scrunching, “we’ll give ya a ride to the next town over, missy,” he nodded his head once, his index finger swiping away the sweat over his top lip.

but before you can respond—tell them that it’s okay, you can sleep in the car—he makes a disapproving noise as he looks towards the sun. your gaze follows his, furrowing your brows as you don't seem to notice what he does.

he shakes his head, inhaling through his teeth, “actually, ‘s gettin’ dark out, darlin’,” he said slowly, gauging your thoughts by the way you react, “next town’s probably quieting down right about now.”

“oh,” you say simply, “well, that's alright, i can just sleep in my car, i guess.”

he dismisses your suggestion, “no need for that, missy. we can set you up at ‘r place?” he offers, an eyebrow raised at the suggestion, sensing the hesitation in your expression and body language.

you shook your head rapidly—they had already took the time to even look at the problem with your car, but now taking up space in their house? you felt like you were being greedy now.

“no, i don’t want to intrude!” you try to decline politely, waving your hands dismissively in front of you, “besides you’ve already helped plenty by even offering to fix my car.”

he chuckles, shaking his head in return, his curls bouncing slightly, “ ‘s no biggie. take yer in ‘r truck,” he nods towards the scuffed up vehicle behind him, “set ya up in ‘r guest room all nice and cozy, have yer car fixed before you even wake up. how’s tha’ sound, darlin’?”

you bite your lip as he looks at you, brow still raised in the question of ‘will you come with us?’ and how can you refuse the nice country boys, with their funny accents and silly words, who just want to get you on your way?

you nod reluctantly—it's not like you didn’t want to go with them, but you still felt like you were being a bit of a leech, “yeah, okay, if it's not too much of a hassle-”

“atta girl!” he smacks a hand down on your shoulder, almost too eagerly as he guides your path towards the passenger side of his beat-up truck. you tense under his hand, glancing back at the car with a frown.

“well, hold on now, lando,” oscar calls out, shaking his head as he mutters something about the eagerness of the man, “she might need to get a few of ‘er things from ‘er car! practically kidnappin’ her with how fast yer tryin’ to stuff her inside!”

lando tsk’s his tongue, pointing a finger in agreement at oscar’s words, “ah, suppose yer right,” he reluctantly drops your hand from your shoulder to let you back to your car. 

you awkwardly shuffle your way to the trunk of your car, acutely aware of their heavy gazes—especially as they studied you.yYou knew they knew you weren’t from around here, that you were not used to being in the weeds as they were and it heated up your cheeks to be so out of place and awkward next to them.

you quickly fill your hands with a small blanket and a change of clothes for the next day before shutting the trunk again, locking the car behind you as you walk back to lando’s side. his hand goes to the small of your back as he convinces you to ride shotgun next to him.

oscar opens his mouth to protest, his hand raised as he’s about to speak when lando feverishly waved his hand next to his neck—cut it out, osc! he could practically hear in his thoughts.

after he had gotten you settled into his car, he handed you his keys to give it a start—it's okay, climb over the center console and put yer foot on the brake to get ‘er started! don't want ya to burn up now!

once again, he grabbed a fist of oscar’s shirt as he tugged him to the side again, glancing back towards the truck as you settled in the seat after starting the car.

“mate, i know what yer doin’,” he spoke in an exasperated tone of disapproval as he too gazed back at the truck.

lando sighed, clambering a hand on his shoulder and massaging the muscle—weirdly enough for oscar to shrug it off with a grimace look of disgust. lando rolls his eyes, his hand falling back down to his side as he huffs out a sigh, “look, i told you-”

“i get it, she’s a pretty thing, but ‘s unnecessary,” he tells him, raising his brows with his head tilted down, “you should’ve jus’ fixed ‘er car and sent ‘er on ‘er way.”

he sniffles, swiping the back of his dirty hand across his nose, “if you don’t want ‘er back at the house, i understand, osc…”

he shakes his head, “it’s not that i don’t want ‘er in ‘r house, i mean she seems like a nice girl, but-” he cuts himself off, pursing his lips as he closes with eyes with a big sigh before looking at lando seriously, “listen, i just don’t want you takin’ advantage of ‘er.”

“y’know me, osc, and you know i won’t.”

“yeah, but that was before i saw you lay yer eyes on her, and saw them bug out of yer damn head.”

“shut up.” he grumbled, rolling his eyes with the shake of his head as he walked back around to the driver’s side door, watching poor oscar who was forced into the backseat of the car because of you—the pretty little thing in their front passenger seat.

the drive back was awkward to say the least. silence hung in the air, the only sound was the heavy hum of the car and the scrape of the tires on the asphalt. you tried to keep your eyes forward, ignoring the man beside you who drove with a single hand on the bottom of the steering wheel. whenever you’d glanced over, you could see the paled skin of his knuckles from his hard grasp on the wheel.

you had to forcibly peel your eyes away from the sight of his hands​​—his dusty sleeves still rolled up to his elbows, which exposed the smeared dirt across his tanned skin from his outside work. you couldn’t see, but a smirk etched its way onto his lips, his thumb swiping across his lips as if to wipe it away before you or oscar would notice.

the truck jostled to the side a bit as the road changed to rough gravel, hearing the crunch under the weight of the car. the house—that you assumed belonged to the two guys—came into view.

your eyes scanned the land—plenty of trees surrounded the property with a few animals here and there, a red barn further back near the edge of the forest, and the house itself. 

you didn't know what to expect when the thought of their house had first crossed your mind—but it hadn’t been too far from what you were seeing. the house looked quaint—a single story with a wrap-around patio, another vehicle parked up outside a good distance away from a red, wood dog house that had a water bowl next to it.

as lando pulled up to the house, parked up next to the other car, he killed the engine before getting out. you swiftly followed by unbuckling your seatbelt as you reached for the door handle, but you were beaten to it by the poor backseat dweller.

you gave him a soft smile—which he returned—muttering a ‘thanks’ as you took the hand he offered as he guided you down from the tall truck. he gave you a nod, dropping your hand as he shut the door behind you before looking over at lando, whose jaw was noticeably clenched. all oscar did was roll his eyes and begin to show you around the property, inviting you into their cozy country home.

lando quickly found himself by your side, gently taking your belongings from your arms with a friendly smile as he interrupted oscar, “ill get you set up in ‘r guest room,” he offered, taking great care in holding your precious belongings, “osc, why don't you go show ‘er them barn cats in the meantime.”

he watched the way your eyes lit up, failing to realize that the smile on his face grew bigger at your reaction—he enjoyed the way the tension slowly filtered from your stance at the thought of seeing some cute cats.

the air had begun to cool now, they had finally finished naming off all the little critters that lived on their property and were now taking you back to their main house for a bite to eat before hitting the hay. you would’ve denied being hungry if it weren’t for your tummy grumbling for nearly ten minutes.

you would’ve denied being hungry if it weren’t for the smell of a nice, home cooked meal that made your mouth water and your tummy growl even most incessantly. it was by far the best meal you had ever eaten in your life, and you started to relax and loosen up a bit more in their presence.

so now you were all sitting around on the couches, one was worn leather and the other some frayed corduroy fabric with several different patches sewn onto it. oscar had his head leaned against the backrest of the leather couch, his cowboy hat over his face and arms over his chest that moved with every soft inhale and exhale. in one of his hands, tucked in his elbow was a green, half drunk beer bottle that was still cold as the condensation dripped down the side.

lando, on the other hand, had taken his spot in the old recliner, a beer also in hand as he sipped causally, eyes glued to the old tv—it still had antennas and you were perplexed on how it still worked. still, you watched whatever old movie lando had claimed was the best movie that had ever existed—it was older than you.

it was late in the evening, the sound of cicadas and other loud insects chirping away as the sun had finally fallen from the sky, painting the sky a dark black with speckled stars. you were confused at first as to why lando had ushered you out onto the porch so late at night, but once you glanced up to the nice sky, it had all made sense.

a view like this was never available to you in the city, but here and now, it was. away from all the light pollution and tall buildings of the city, you stood under the porch, leaning against the white railing in awe at the unfiltered night sky.

lando had smiled at your mumbles, countless words of how pretty, gorgeous and striking the view was, how lucky he was to be able to see this from where they stood. you shook your head in disbelief, “‘s so pretty,” you had mumbled breathlessly, turning your head to find that he hadn’t taken his eyes off you.

he leaned next to you, a beer still in hand—no doubt it wasn’t his first of the night. your arms barely grazed each other, the fabric of his long sleeve against your bare arm sent tingles over your body.

“sure is,” he whispered back, a smug smile tugging at his lips as he glanced appreciatively over the features of your face before tilting his beer bottle towards you. all you did was smile, feeling the heat rush to your face at his incentive—that you were his best view. you hesitantly took the bottle in your hand, swooshing around the liquid before taking a sip.

he chuckled as your face contorted in a grimace, taking the bottle back from you as he watched your reaction with deep enjoyment, “not a fan, eh?” he teased before taking a sip himself.

“definitely not,” you cough out once you managed to get it swallowed, smacking your lips as you still feel the taste on your tongue, “never had been before.”

his brows raised at your admission, “is that so?” he hums, nodding as he looks back over the property, “so what do ya drink?”

you hum, taking a moment to consider before listing off a few fruity cocktails that you had tried during your club outings. you watched the look of confusion come over his face, the sight making you giggle.

“wha’the hell is tha?” he questions, his voice raised an octave.

all you can do is shake your head and laugh as you nudge his shoulder, promising him, “i’ll have to take you to the city someday.”

“yeah, sure ya will.”

instead of responding, you just rolled your eyes and fixed your gaze back at the awe-striking view. you stood contently for a long time before lando had to force you inside to finally get some rest after a long day, muttering promises that your car would be fixed before first light tomorrow.

cock-a-doodle-do!

when the sound reached your ears, you slipped in consciousness, confusion and disbelief as you sat up in the wood-framed bed. you groaned, your shoulders hunched and hair heavily disheveled. you would’ve slept longer if it were for the rooster that had loudly crowed at the crack of dawn. you had hardly believed that it was something that roosters actually do—you were a bit naive. 

you rolled back in bed, shoving a pillow over your head to block out the sounds of incessant crowing until you had fallen back into a light sleep—stupid chicken.

and when you awoke again a couple hours later with a knock to the guest room door, you stirred. again you sat up, groaned at the forceful waking, but this time you stayed up as you called out for whoever knocked to come in.

the door creaked open, and there was oscar, a smile on his slightly sunburned face, as per usual, talking about how there’s some food left over that you can heat up. though, not all the words make it to your sleep-fogged brain so you just hum and nod, adjusting to the bright sun slipping through the curtains.

you sighed when you realized that by now, your car was probably fixed, that this was the last yummy meal cooked by these nice—and strangely attractive—country boys. surprisingly, you felt your heart ache at the thought of leaving. they had been so nice to you, inviting you into their home with nothing, but care and generosity.

but of course, leaving had come all too soon as you were driven back to where your car had broken down—oscar suffering in the backseat after being forced once again to sit back there. being lead to your car with small talk as it sunk in that the pretty little lady who’s car they fixed was now going on her way.

they stood either side of your car, oscar on the passenger side and lando on the driver's side. you had the door propped open, starting the car with a smile on your face, but it quickly turned sad.

as you closed the car door, you rolled down the window to look up at lando as he stood closer, hands in the front pockets of his jeans, a small smile on his lips as he looked down at you. you held out an arm to which he leaned over, allowing you to wrap in around him, his arm snaking around your back. he lightly patted it after a few moments, relishing in the affection before inevitably pulling away.

“thank you again, mr.—” you paused, realizing you hadn’t gotten as acquainted to learn their full names, suddenly feeling a bit red in the face as you blanked.

all lando did was smirk as he leaned against your car door, arm over the window as he bent down to eye level with you. his other hand snaked its way up to the hat that sat atop his head. he revealed the dark curls beneath as he lifted it from his head, situating it on yours the best he could—it wasn’t as secure of a fit on your head compared to his. “norris,” he finished the sentence for you, now holding out his hand for you to shake—which you do—“lando norris. it was nice to meeting ya, darlin’, see ya around.”

—

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proofread by @foreveralbon <333

[tarotwithavi]

Love letter from your future spouse

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

How to choose a pile?

Close your eyes and take a deep breath and ask the angels to show you the right pile for you and open your eyes. The first pile that catches your attention is the right pile for you.

Masterlist

Paid services

I have been scammed recently and am now in urgent need of money. Any help you can offer would be greatly appreciated.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 1

My Dear Sunshine,

From the moment I first laid eyes on you, my world changed in ways I never imagined possible. I remember that day so clearly the way you walked into the room with such grace, your smile lighting up the space around you. I was completely captivated. My heart raced, and I knew, in that instant, that you were someone extraordinary.

As we spoke, I found myself drawn to your kindness, your intelligence, and your genuine warmth. Every word you said, every laugh we shared, deepened my infatuation. I had never felt such a powerful connection with anyone before. You were like a breath of fresh air, and I couldn't get enough.

I often think about that first meeting and how it felt like destiny had brought us together. I am so grateful for that moment because it was the start of something beautiful, something I never want to end.

You have become such an important part of my life, and I can't imagine my future without you in it. I want you to know that my feelings for you are deep and unwavering. I am committed to cherishing you, supporting you, and standing by your side through all of life's ups and downs.

I promise to never let you go, to hold onto this incredible love we share, and to always make you feel as special as you are to me. You are my heart, my joy, and my everything.

Thank you for being the wonderful person you are and for allowing me to be a part of your life. I look forward to many more beautiful moments together and a lifetime of love.

Yours forever,

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 2

My Dearest Love,

Every moment without you feels like an eternity. I long for you with every beat of my heart and every breath I take. My days are spent thinking of you, dreaming of the life we’ll share. I am waiting for you, holding onto the hope that soon we will be together.

I have so many plans for us, my love. I imagine us exploring the world together, hand in hand. We'll travel to the places we've always dreamed of, wandering the streets of Paris, watching the sunset in Santorini, and walking through the cherry blossoms in Kyoto. Each place will be a new adventure, a new memory created with you by my side.

But more than the places we’ll go, it’s the journey we’ll take together that excites me the most. We’ll face the challenges of life, supporting and loving each other through every obstacle. We'll fight against the world if we must, standing strong together, never letting go of each other. Your strength and courage inspire me, and with you, I feel I can face anything.

Eventually, we will create our own world, a sanctuary built on our love and shared dreams. A place where we can be ourselves, free and happy, surrounded by the warmth of our love. I see us building a home filled with laughter, joy, and endless love. A place where our hearts will always find peace and where our souls will be forever entwined.

I miss you more than words can express. My heart aches for the day when we no longer have to be apart. Until then, know that I am here, waiting for you, planning our future, and dreaming of the incredible life we will share.

With all my love,

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Pile 3

My lovely butterfly,

I hope this letter finds you well, wrapped in the warmth of your own beautiful spirit. There are so many things I want to say to you, so many feelings that often get lost in the day-to-day rush of life.

Firstly, please know that I see you. I see the strength in your independence, how you navigate life with such grace and determination. It's one of the things I admire most about you; your ability to stand tall even when the world tries to push you down.

I want you to promise me something, my love. Promise me that no matter what challenges come our way, you'll never lose hope of finding me. Promise me that even on the darkest days, you'll hold onto the belief that we are meant to be together, that our paths will cross when the time is right.

I cherish every moment we spend together, every smile you grace me with, every laugh that echoes through my heart. Your jokes, even the ones that aren't funny, they light up my world in ways you can't imagine. And your madness, oh, how I adore it. It's the spark that ignites our moments together, the unpredictability that keeps life exciting.

I want you to know that I'll never ask you to change who you are. Your beliefs, your dreams, your quirks, they are what make you uniquely you, and that's who I fell in love with.

I promise to always respect your individuality, to never force my beliefs upon you or mold you into someone you're not. Through the ups and downs, the twists and turns of life, I'll be there. I'll be your rock, your shoulder to lean on, your unwavering support. My love for you knows no bounds, it's a love that grows stronger with each passing day, with every sunrise we witness together.

So, my love, hold onto these words when doubt creeps in. Know that you are cherished beyond measure, loved unconditionally, and admired endlessly. Our love story is still unfolding, and I can't wait to see where it leads us next.

Wait for me

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

[minniesmutt]

“If you turn your back on me again, you better be bending over.” rockstar x rockstar gf

Could i request it with chan?

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: BANG CHAN X READER ☾ ━━━ PROMPT: 32 “If you turn your back on me again, you better be bending over.” ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: ROCKSTAR! CHAN, ROCKSTAR GF!READER, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, BRAT! READER, FINGERING, DOM!CHAN, UNPROTECTED SEX, CHOKING, SPANKING, ORGASM DENIAL, CREAMPIE ☾ ━━━ WC: 0.6K ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     “Y/n!” Chan yelled as he chased his girlfriend down the back of the venue. 

     She completely ignored him. Not wanting to hear much of him at the moment after she watched his entire set. The crowd thrusting things on stage for him and his band and almost themselves a couple times and her boyfriend said nothing. 

      Some fans had some meet and greet passes for the band which was normal. Y/n stood with staff till it was over. Boiling in how many women attempted to flirt — some even kiss the cheek of — her boyfriend. He kindly turned it down at first but soon he just stopped and took the photos. Immediately after the last of the fans left she left towards the back with Chan hot on her tail 

     “Go to one of your other girlfriends!”

     “Baby,” Chan managed to get in front of her and stop her, “Fan service is part of my job. You know this.”

     “Since when is letting fans kiss you part of your job?”

     “I’m sorry. I should have stopped everyone of them but just repeating myself was getting tiring.”

     “Whatever,” Y/n rolled her eyes and pushed past her boyfriend

     Chan knew she could get jealous. He’s known since they got together. He’s never minded much, he always knew how to remind her he was hers. 

     “Baby girl,” Chan grabbed her waist and turned her around just for him to spin out of his grip. “If you turn your back on me again, you better be bending over.” 

     Y/n stopped and looked at him, “Bend me over yourself.”

     That’s all Chan needed to drag her to the nearest bathroom and lock the door behind them. Quickly bending her over the sink and pushing her bottoms down along with her panties. Keeping a hand on the back of her neck as he licked his fingers then ran them between her folds. 

     Y/n watched him in the mirror trying to push herself up and turn around. All her actions stopped as his fingers pushed into her. Moaning as he stretched her open. “There's my girl. Just needed a couple fingers in her.”

     “Barely feel them,” Y/n lied, just to rile him up.

     Y/n whined as he grabbed the front of her neck, pulling her back to him. “What was that baby girl?” 

     “Barely feel them,” Y/n repeated. 

     Chan hummed and bent her back over the sink. Pinning her against the surface as his fingers slid out of her. She heard rustling and metal clinking behind her. A moment later she felt his tip spreading her slick and his precum. Moaning as he pushed in behind her. Watching her jaw drop in the mirror.

     “Feel that baby?” Chan asked

     “No,” Y/n stammered 

     Chan hummed behind her. He gave her a few seconds before he started moving. Not saying to start slow and opting to fuck the attitude out of her as quick as possible. Watching her facade visually fall apart in the mirror even though she was still denying it verbally. 

     “Fuck,” Y/n moaned

     “Wanna keep lying to me baby?”

     “No,” Y/n moaned. “Feels good.”

     “Yeah. The only girl I fuck like this. Only girl I fuck.”

     “Wanna cum,” Y/n moaned

     “Not tonight baby. Bad girls don't get rewards,” Chan said

     “Ch—“ Y/n paused as he spanked her ass. 

     “Start listening and maybe I’ll let you cum when we get back to the hotel.” 

     “‘M sorry,”

     Chan laughed behind her as his pace picked up. Drilling himself into her as his orgasm built up. Feeling her walls pulse around him and get tighter with each thrust before he finally let go. Pushing himself deep in her as filled her. 

     Y/n whined under him as he painted her insides. Trying to fuck her self back on him to no avail. Her boyfriend pulled out after a few moments. Pulling her up and kissing her cheek, “I love you. No one else.”

     “Love you too,” Y/n hummed 

     “Wanna go back to the hotel room?” 

     “Please.”

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

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© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[odoraful]

𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒

⟡ content: diluc/wanderer/childe x gn!reader; sfw; modern au; established relationship; fluff !! ⟡ a/n: i was scouring pinterest looking the most fitting inspo rooms for each of them hehe

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

DILUC ⟡

Your shared home is an old-fashioned but charming house with a tiled roof and a brick archway leading to the entrance of the door. Diluc has a good eye for style — all the furniture pieces you select together are warm and elegant, perfectly matching with the vintage style home.

He’s a bit of a craftsman, and when you moved in he custom built bookshelves just for you. Your house has traces of Diluc’s handiwork: a wooden tissue box cover, tile coasters, a ceramic chess set.

Being a peak acts of service man, if he notices that there’s something inconveniencing you that can be mended, he’ll try to find a way to fix it. That wooden chair that wobbled yesterday when you sat down on it? The next day, it’s miraculously levelled. Always struggling to find your keys before you leave the house? There are now little hooks on the wall where you can easily hang them. He doesn’t make a huge show of it, but you’ll always kiss him on the cheek and say that you should repay him with something.

“There’s no need. Seeing you happy is more than enough for me.” He replies, running a hand through his hair, the tips of his ears turning red.

The house is IMPECCABLY cleaned — the chores are shared out between the two of you, and the both of you work like a well-oiled machine. He’ll insist that you shouldn’t carry anything too heavy though! He doesn’t want you to hurt yourself :(

One of the things that Diluc wouldn’t ever trade is getting the chance to cuddle with you in the evening on the couch. He’ll let you play with his hair and try out different styles, comforted by the feeling of your fingers running through it.

Sometimes, he’ll come home late from work tired and perhaps a bit grumpy, but the sight of you will change his mood completely.

At the sound of jangling keys and the front door creaking shut, you rush out of the bathroom and down the stairs. 

“(Y/N), I’m home!” You hear Diluc’s voice call out to you.

The day had felt far too long for him, and with far too many headaches for him to deal with. The only thing that he looked forward to at the end of it all was to see you again. 

Hearing the patter of your slippers, he looks up. It takes everything within him to keep composed at your appearance. Having just gotten out of a hot shower, your cheeks were tinted pink, hair still damp and slicked. Diluc’s eyes trailed to your clothes, a matching pair of flannel shirt and shorts. He loosens his tie, suddenly finding his breath stuck in his throat. It baffled him how gorgeous you were even in pyjamas.

Wordlessly, he reaches towards you. You look down at his hands and see as they fasten the remaining top two buttons of your sleeping shirt. In your hurry to greet him at the door, you forgot to dress properly. 

“I can’t believe I missed that...” You sheepishly say, observing his hands as they linger on your shirt. Your senses told you something was off.  “Did you have troubles at work today?”

The worry in your eyes melts his heart. Of course you were the one to peer through him and know exactly how he was feeling. 

“A few clientele at the bar today were-” He sighs, still fidgeting with the fabric of your shirt, recalling the events of the day, “-difficult to manage to say the least.” He lifts his head to meet his gaze. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” 

Your arms instinctually wrap around him and he collapses into them. Tightening your embrace, he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Diluc, I just took a shower.” You say with a light giggle, trying to pull your hair away from his face.

He feels your breath close to his ear and he wishes he could have recorded that laugh for himself to hear it over and over again. 

“I could tell.” He breathes deeply. “Is this a new shampoo?”

“Well yes, but what I meant from that is that my hair is still wet!”

You feel him smile against you. “It doesn’t bother me. Just a few more seconds, please. I need to recharge.” 

WANDERER ⟡

You share an apartment together since you travel to and from the same university. Although you’re studying different degrees and have different schedules, you’ll both make an effort to spend time together at home during the weekdays. 

You and Wanderer leave little notes cheering each other on and stick them to the walls or the fridge before you leave, or sneak them into pencil cases or onto laptop screens. He has a small box on his desk where he collects all your notes, neatly folding them up to preserve them.

Wanderer enjoys having the home quite minimalist. Just the essentials will do, but the two of you do splurge a bit more on your study space —  the comfiest chairs, wide desks, tactile keyboards — anything to liven up having to do assignments all the time.  

When you’re feeling too tired or distracted from your own studies, you’ll walk over to his desk and try to sit on his lap while he works. He’ll attempt to exert some self-control and reject your wishes, but eventually gives in after seeing your pout.

“Just because you’re distracted doesn’t give you any right to bother me.” He grumbles, resting his chin on your head.

He warns you that if you do decide to put plants in the house, you are responsible for them. Little do you know that he’s secretly also invested in their health. On mornings when you’re in a rush and forget to water them, he’ll spritz them with your spray bottle thinking to himself: If you died (Y/N) would be devastated, so don’t even think about it.

His favourite room is the bedroom. It’s a place for both of you to escape the stresses of being a student and relax together.

The alarm clock beeps and you wiggle in bed, reaching over a hand to quickly silence it. Bright sun filters in through the curtains, its light diffusing into the room. 

You force your eyes open and sit up, your body bent over like a crooked branch. Movement beside you pulls your attention as Wanderer shifts in his sleep. You can’t deny how pretty he looks even at rest. His long lashes fanned out under closed eyes, the steady rise and fall of his chest with each deep breath. His expression is that of pure peace. You know that’ll soon disappear when you both need to properly wake up and prepare for classes.

“Hey, it’s time to wake up,” you whisper, carefully coaxing him from slumber. 

Wanderer opens his bleary eyes ever so slightly, then immediately closes them. He mumbles something of refusal. You roll your eyes in resignation. When it comes to sleep, he acts like a child sometimes. You turn to get out of bed. 

Two arms wrap around your waist and yank you back. You stumble into the sheets with a yelp. Wanderer adjusts the blanket over you and pulls you closer to him with one hand. 

“Not yet.” His voice is low and scratchy, his words slurred. “Want more time in bed… with you.” 

You sigh softly, absentmindedly running a hand through his hair to detangle it. “You do this almost every morning. You’re never going to attend your lectures on time.”

He replies by nuzzling into your neck, and you hear nothing but his slow breaths. His peers would have sooner called identity fraud than believe the stony and scholarly Wanderer to be this clingy and affectionate in the morning. However, in the privacy of just you, it’s become easy for him to let down his guard. 

“Don’t try to get out of this by pretending to be asleep.” You say, deadpan.

There’s a stutter in his breathing as you catch his obvious charade. 

“Stop worrying. I’ll just watch the recording.” He finally responds. 

You realise in a fluster just how close your faces are, barely inches apart. As if sensing this, Wanderer opens his eyes once again, this time there’s a glint of mischief in them. 

He taps his forehead lightly against your own. “And besides, why would I want to spend my mornings in a noisy lecture hall when I can be with you in peace and quiet?”

CHILDE ⟡

You’ve been living together for a while now, and your home has transformed into what can only be described as organised chaos.

If Childe kept up with his interior designing eagerness, it would have been complete maximalism, but you were there to contain his excitement and still ensure your home was still practical. 

The two of you love collecting pillows, plushies and blankets, which adds even more to the cosiness! However, one day you tried to sit down on the couch and realised it was more pillows than actual seat space. In a fit of laughter, you and Childe ruled that you would rotate between different cushions every so often so you could get your couch back. 

Childe will still come home with flowers or sweets (sometimes both) as gifts for you on random nights. He’ll stand on the doorstep looking like a lovesick teenage boy asking his crush out on a date. Taking them from his hands, you’ll ask what the occasion is.

“Well, there isn’t a particular occasion.” He kisses you on the forehead. “Celebrating you should be an everyday thing.”

Board game nights are taken very seriously. You have a bookshelf filled with different types of them. Whether it’s a classic game of UNO or Jenga, or something a little more strategic, he's always hyper-competitive. You also have special punishments for if one of you loses, which are harmless but maybe a little embarrassing (One of his favourite punishments for you is ‘For the entire day tomorrow, Childe will only call (Y/N) by the cheesiest pet names’). 

MASSIVE kitchen since he loves to cook. He keeps a book of recipes from his mum and has since added new ones of his own that he has shared with you. 

“Could you come over here, baby?”

You follow your partner’s voice and the scent of something freshly baked into the kitchen.

Childe is standing behind the counter, his face in deep focus. He takes one of an array of heart-shaped biscuits and dips half of it in a bowl of chocolate before placing it on a lined baking sheet. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up, exposing his forearms. His muscular build is sharply juxtaposed by the cream-coloured apron tied around himself, which has a little teddy bear embroidered in its centre. 

You approach the kitchen bench, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Are they ready yet? Can I try one?” You eagerly ask. 

“Not quite, I need help dipping the rest of these into chocolate.” He stretches his arms out in front of him, shaking the tension out of them.

“That being said,” he grins, extending a hand towards you across the kitchen bench as an offer, “would you do me the honour of being my baking assistant for a little?” 

Chuckling at his dramatics, you delicately place your hand in his like royalty. “I’d be delighted to help.”  

Childe guides you to his side and helps you put on your apron. As he ties the strings together, he relays the instructions to you. 

“You just need to dip half of the biscuit into chocolate, and then add some sprinkles on top before it sets.” He tightens the bow around your waist to secure it.

How hard could that be? You think, nodding along to his words.

Demoing an example, Childe deftly coats half of the biscuit. Angling it just right, the chocolate drips off and evens itself out, leaving a perfect covered half. After placing it on the tray and adding the finishing touch of sprinkles, he gestures for you to try it yourself.

You confidently take one biscuit and dunk it. 

“Ah!” 

Underestimating its consistency, when you lift the biscuit, the chocolate slowly spreads onto the other half of the heart and drips onto your fingers. You quickly place it onto the baking sheet. Childe stifles his laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“My one looks so much worse compared to yours…” you mutter, licking your fingers to remove the evidence of your unsuccessful attempt. 

Seeing the frown on your face, he gently bumps your shoulder with his own in encouragement. “Don’t say that! I think your one has a lot more charm.” He says, adding the sprinkles onto your heart. “I’ll run some extra baking classes with you to build up your skills, how does that sound?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[feeder86]

Train to Gain

“I want to get jacked!” Jay declared, standing in front of his new personal trainer with his chest puffed out.

Matt nodded, having heard the same thing many times from plenty of guys like Jay, in their early twenties. “Okay, so we’re aiming for muscle gains,” he clarified, making a note of it. “Is there a reason why you want to make this your focus?” he asked, seeing from Jay’s body that he already had a pretty good build that most guys would have been envious of.

Jay nodded. “I’ve just split up with a girl I’ve been with since high school,” he stated without a drop of remorse or sorrow. “I feel like I want to finally do something for myself. You know what I mean? I want to look good. Muscular. Lean.”

Matt nodded. So, just like all the other guys, this one believed that getting more muscle on him would help him score with the ladies. He didn’t need a PhD to crack that little mystery about the boy’s true intention. It was a tale as old as time itself. 

Being so muscular himself, guys like Jay seemed to gravitate towards Matt on an almost daily basis, knowing that he could deliver the results they wanted. They saw his statuesque physique in the gym and felt that working out with a guy as built as he was was akin to ordering that body type for themselves in a catalogue. But Matt was not convinced by this latest client. Jay was a pretty-looking boy, with large soulful eyes and a gentle innocence about him. He wouldn’t be single for long. Some girl would come along, snap him up, and this whole muscle workout craze would be a thing of the past for him.

Nevertheless, Matt settled down to a detailed conversation about what it would take, the commitment Jay would need to make and the amount of sessions he would arrange with him each week. It was obvious that Jay had all the enthusiasm for his goals, but little knowledge of how to actually get there. “We’ll take things slow to begin with,” he smiled. “Then we’ll see how we get on.”

Seeming pleased, Jay shook Matt’s hand and threw his workout bag over his shoulder to leave. Then, as Jay was walking out of the gym, Matt watched as the eyes of every woman in there drifted towards his cute, tight glutes in his fitted gym shorts. Matt chuckled, nodding knowingly. It may have been Jay’s first time being single in his adult life, but it wouldn’t take the pretty boy long to work out that he didn’t need any more muscle to get women. Three weeks, maximum, Matt predicted. There was no way Jay would be paying for his services for longer than that; not when he didn’t need to.

Matt was aware that he was in the minority when it came to enjoying those winter months. But as the holidays came and went, he jumped out of bed with a renewed spring in his step, knowing that the gym would be fit to bursting with chubby, overweight and under-exercised guys trying to make a fresh start for the New Year. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly it was that he loved about them so much: that doughy shape, the jiggle of fat as they strolled on the treadmills. Maybe it was the way their sweat made their tight gym clothes stick to their rounded bodies . Matt was both mesmerised and fascinated by it all at the same time. 

It was around this time of year that he had met his now ex-boyfriend who had been trying to lose a few pounds back then. He’d copped a lot of crap from his colleagues at the gym for dating someone so big, and he’d had to challenge them multiple times for their attitudes towards the match. So what if he was into bigger guys? Whose business was it who he dated? Certainly not theirs. Not that any of it mattered in the end. Nine months in and the whole relationship had fallen apart anyway. His heart broken, just as they had all been expecting,

“Alright! That was pretty good!” Matt marvelled a staggering twelve weeks later, as Jay successfully squatted his biggest weight yet. He slapped the guy on his shoulder and passed him his water. “You’re killing it!” he smiled encouragingly.

“But I don’t look any different yet,” Jay grumbled, repeating the same complaint that had surfaced again and again in their recent sessions. “Sure, I’m a little stronger, but not much.”

“We’re taking it slow, remember,” Matt stated calmly. “You were quite clear from the start that you wanted to add muscle the lean way. It just takes a little more time.”

“But what’s the alternative?” Jay asked.

“Proper bulking,” Matt replied. “You give your body all the calories it needs to grow. We discussed this in our first meeting, remember?” he explained, a little exasperated. “You were insistent. You wanted a lean muscle bulk.”

“I want to be bigger,” Jay shot back.

“If you go with the bulking option, you’d have to accept the fact that not all of the gains you make would be muscle,” Matt tried to clarify.

“But I saw this guy online…” Jay began, rambling yet again about some viral influencer who claimed to know it all about how to get ripped with ease.

Matt bit his tongue. He genuinely liked Jay, but he was fed up of trying to debunk all of the insane fitness myths clients came in with these days. He was only twenty seven, and yet he wondered how much longer he could stand to do this job when there was so much misinformation out there. “Look, let’s just try it,” he suggested forcefully, cutting Jay off mid sentence. “I’ll set you up with a bulking plan and we’ll see what happens. If you’re not happy after a couple of weeks, you can fire me and send all your money to those online fitness con artists instead,” he stated plainly.

Still not seeming overly convinced, Jay nodded. “Okay. We’ll try this your way…”

“So, have you got much planned for your week off?” Matt asked Jay a good few weeks later. He’d found that he didn’t struggle with small talk as much with Jay as he did some of his other clients. They seemed to share the same sense of humour and had successfully recommended more than one decent TV show to each other in the past.

“I’m going to a wedding,” Jay answered, sitting himself back ready to lift.

“A wedding, huh?” Matt asked, loading on the weights ready. “That’s a great place to meet girls,” he said, finding it bizarre that Jay was still single after all this time.

“Not a chance!” Jay chuckled, lifting his hands up to grab the bar. “I told you, I’m done with all that.”

“Whatever you say!” Matt chuckled back; his eyes catching sight of Jay’s stomach as the guy’s t-shirt rose, ready for the lift. He could tell that the bulking diet was well underway, with a padded thickness around Jay’s middle, bulging to the sides to form what many might consider the beginnings of love handles.

Jay lifted like never before. After one set he insisted that Matt make the bar even heavier again; grunting with the extreme effort it took.

“You did it!” Matt marvelled, finally setting the bar back minutes later. “I can’t get over how quickly you’re progressing now.”

Jay sat up, spreading his legs wide and owning the space he was in. It was a feeling Matt knew all too well: the sense of power and size after lifting more than ever before. “This bulking is really working, isn’t it?” Jay smiled.

“It is!” Jay nodded, trying to mask his surprise at just how much more noticeable Jay’s extra thickness was around his waist when he sat up like this. There was no way the guy was going to stick out the full bulking period; the boy seemed genetically predisposed to carry a tight little paunch at this size. Already Matt could sense the cut was on the horizon.

Once again, Matt’s predictions fell flat on their face. As more weeks went by, Jay was very quickly becoming one of Matt’s strongest clients. However, it was all coming at quite a cost to the guy’s naturally athletic physique. Built around a solid core, Jay’s chunky middle was rounded and significantly paunch-like in appearance, despite being somewhat muted by the large chest and muscular shoulders that had grown alongside it. If Jay had been going for that muscular V-shaped back, he had fallen far short of the mark. His stout tummy had swelled out his love handles to a size that could not be hidden by pretty much any of the t-shirts that he wore in the gym. Matt had even seen the guy out and about upon occasion, feeling shocked at just how thick and overfed he actually looked; especially with that meaty swagger he had about him, artificially pushing out his arms to increase his width.

“And, we’ll finish with twenty minutes on the treadmill,” Matt declared during their next session, waiting for the exhausted guy to sluggishly pick himself up off the weight machine.

“The treadmill?” Jay asked, as if Matt had been joking. “I’m not paying for you to watch me on the treadmill for twenty minutes,” he laughed.

“You do realise that we’re going to be putting a lot more cardio exercises into your routine from now on? We agreed to start cutting from next week, remember?”

Jay brushed him off, insisting that he could do another set on the machine he was currently on. The rest of the session continued in that manner until the time was depleted. Then a sweaty, beefy looking Jay simply lifted a protein shake to his mouth and began chugging.

“What’s in that thing?” Matt asked, noticing that it was far thicker than any of the recipes he had supplied to Jay. He took it from Jay’s limp hand and held it to his nose. “That’s so sweet!” he gasped, recoiling slightly. Swirling the remaining third in the bottle, Matt declared with absolute certainty that this was not part of the diet plan he had given Jay.

“I found the recipe online,” Jay shot back, snatching the shake back and draining it quickly. “I drink four of these daily. Your shake recipes were good, but I wasn’t packing on the muscle half as quickly as I am now.”

Matt winced. Jay had been heading in the wrong direction for weeks now; his muscle gains overshadowed by significant increases in fat. And Matt had been ignoring it all, pushing it to the back of his mind, denying it. “Have you got the recipe for me to look at?” he asked diplomatically.

Jay lazily held out his hand for Matt to pass him his cell phone from his bag. Then, after a couple of seconds, the webpage link came buzzing through to Matt.

“Um…” Matt mumbled, feeling his heart beating with worry. “Have you really been drinking these four times a day? Did you not think to check out the ingredients? All that sugar? Condensed milk?”

“I’m not an idiot!” Jay grumbled back, as Matt noticed the fat that was starting to build up under the handsome boy’s chin and into his cheeks. “These things promise results and they deliver. I’ve gained 25 lbs in the last two months alone!”

Matt took a step back, feeling that he had let Jay down more than any other client he had ever had. Yet, somewhere deep inside of him was a spark of attraction. Jay was starting to look genuinely fat. It was literally spreading across his entire body and had been doing so for weeks.  “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled guiltily. “I should have been more on top of your diet planner. This should never have happened.”

Jay seemed utterly perplexed by Matt’s remorse, but he agreed to pack up his stuff and head out to a local cafe for a more thorough debrief. They sat with two coffees at a small table near the front as Matt considered how best to insist that Jay quit the shakes as soon as possible.

Matt thought he had his speech all ready to go. He inhaled, ready to begin, when he suddenly noticed that Jay’s attention was elsewhere. A large, overweight guy had come in through the door, making Jay look across with interest. Matt followed his gaze and then cringed with regret, realising that the man was none other than his ex boyfriend, Chris. They had just made eye contact.

“I’m really sorry about this!” Matt blasted out, realising that his almost 400 lb ex was heading over to the table and there was nothing that he could do to stop him.

“Hello Matt,” the large bellied guy smiled. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah,” Matt nodded, not looking directly at him in the hopes that he would soon get the message and leave them be. “Nice to see you, Chris,” he lied.

“I gained a bit of weight recently,” Chris went on, patting his fat stomach. “I’d love to show you some time.”

“I’m actually with a client right now!” Matt hissed, losing patience. “When I said that things were over between us, I meant it.”

Chris looked down at them both, giving Jay in particular the most filthy of looks. Then he turned, deciding that the coffee house was no good after all and disappeared out of the door.

“Who was that?” Jay exclaimed the second the guy’s large form had disappeared beyond the windows. 

“My ex,” Matt sighed, feeling frustrated that they should bump into each other here; whilst he was with a client no less! “We broke up about eight months ago.”

“You? And HIM?” Jay asked in disbelief, making it hard for Matt to tell whether it was the fact that he dated guys that most surprised Jay, or the sheer size of that ex-boyfriend. Either way, it became the focus of a long line of questions that Matt was finding difficult to deflect.

“I’ve made a decision,” Jay finally declared as they at last got off the topic of Matt’s love life. “I want to keep the bulk going for another six weeks.”

“I would very strongly advise against that,” Matt replied immediately.

“Six more weeks!” Jay laughed, as if he was making the simplest of alterations to their training plan. “It’s nothing! You need to learn to relax, buddy!”

Matt sighed. Perhaps because he was still reeling from coming face to face with Chris again, he did not feel especially inclined to argue. Jay was a client after all, and his wishes had to be respected - even if he was making a choice that Matt knew would make it significantly harder for the guy to get back in shape afterwards.

Just as Matt had anticipated, the weight that poured onto Jay’s body over the coming weeks was nothing more than pure fat. He’d find himself staring at it, having never felt so conflicted in his life. He was attracted by fat on a guy’s body, yes. But Jay was also a client who was confused by all of the bad advice out there and had caught himself up in a pattern of weight gain that was bloating his previously toned body. The sight of it, Matt had to admit, was nothing short of wildly arousing.

“He’s one of yours isn’t he?” asked one of the other trainers as Jay walked in for his training session wearing a t-shirt that was significantly too tight for his bloated torso. The guy braced himself against the wall to stretch out his calves, not realising how much his shirt had ridden up in the process and exposing a good three inches of his new, overfed tummy pushing itself over the waistband.

“Great work, Matt,” sneered Harry, the other male trainer, giving him a sarcastic slow clap as the three of them all watched Jay from a good distance.

Matt wanted to explain how he hadn’t been to blame; how Jay had found bad advice online instead, and was continuing to bulk against his advice. However, there was a strange thrill in not saying anything at all; something that Matt could not explain, even if he tried. 

Next, Jay began squatting, spreading his chunky legs wide apart with the good posture that Matt had taught him, then lifting his body up and down. It was a simple move and not at all noteworthy but for the extreme tightness of the shorts he was wearing, pulling the waistband lower and lower at the back, revealing more and more of his butt crack with each dip; thanks in part to the similarly undersized underwear he had on underneath.

“Ugh!” laughed Harry.. “No one wants to see that!”

Matt looked around at the others in the gym. Jay was indeed getting looks of disapproval, and even disgust, for his scandalously tight clothing.

“You need to have a word,” the trainers all agreed. “He’s putting people off. It’s bad for business.”

Matt sighed. He knew what they were saying was right, but how could he even begin a conversation about it to a client who was paying him? Especially one he was starting to crush on in the most inappropriate of ways.

Despite Jay’s confidence on the weights, it was quite clear during that session that the guy wasn’t making as much progress with his lifting than he obviously thought he was. In fact, his lifting had peaked almost two months earlier and there had been minimal successes since then. What had changed was the amount of sweating Jay was doing; leaving the machines with a damp imprint of his overfed rear which Matt wiped down each time. But with the sweating, Jay’s clothing tightened around him even more. Matt didn’t need to see Jay on the scales, he was an expert on every part of his body, knowing exactly how it was altering because he could see it right there, before his very eyes. He had to breathe a little deeper when he felt the arousal getting too much for him. Jay’s butt was pure perfection; shaped by good genes and some decent early muscle gains, but now swelling and widening with the pounds and pounds of fat the guy was amassing.

Jay had been buzzing about his new apartment; finally allowing him to get out of parents’ place. It was going to make bulking a lot easier, he’d declared, making Matt feel uneasy about how much more extreme his client may take things.

“I’ve got boxes and boxes of stuff all over the place,” Jay complained. “I need a good sort out, really. It’s just so easy to dump it all in the closet and forget about it though.”

“That reminds me,” Matt jumped in, seeing an opening and seizing upon it. “I got an email the other day for a good discount on the online shop I use for clothes,” he began, having pondered over how best to approach the clothes issue for the entire hour of their session. “It can be quite hard to find stuff that fits right when you’re a bodybuilder.”

“Tell me about it!” nodded the chubby boy, not sensing the irony in his words in the slightest. “None of my clothes fit properly anymore.”

Matt nodded. Under normal circumstances, this would have been a good lead in to discuss Jay’s dissatisfaction with his clothing and how he shouldn’t really be feeling such tightness around his stomach when he was trying to pack on muscle. As it was, he could feel the eyes of the other trainers on the back of his head. The only task he had to complete was getting Jay out of those ridiculously tight gym clothes. “I use this brand,” he lied, showing Jay the webpage he had just got up on his cell phone. He knew that impressionable guys like Jay wanted to look like him; to have the same confidence and presence. If he recommended a clothes line to them, he was pretty certain they would take it. “With the progress you’ve been making, you could probably get away with the extra large, but the 2XL might suit your needs more if you’re still in the bulking phase. Fast delivery too.”

Jay nodded with interest and took every link that Matt sent him. 

“I’ve spoken to him about the clothes,” Matt nodded, seeing the faces of expectation from the other trainers as he went back after the session ended.

“I know it’s tough having to tell a client that they’re getting too heavy,” Harry nodded. “But when he’s spilling out of his clothes like that, enough is enough. It’s time to say something.”

Matt nodded, knowing that Harry was exactly right. But that wasn’t what he had done, was it? He’d sent Jay off believing that he was making ‘progress’ and that he needed to wear clothes suitable for bodybuilders. The reality was anything but. Jay was chubby and out of shape. He’d not done any cardio in… it must have been months! He was a client who kept Matt awake at night with his feelings of guilt. He was letting the guy down, and this latest stunt was his worst sin of all.

It came as no surprise when Jay continued to be obsessed with bulking, even after the third and fourth deadlines for cutting came and went. The small mercy was that Jay was at least dressed better in the gym. With his new clothes, he was starting to look like any other broad, fat guy. His pretty face was still getting him the odd glance from some of the women, but the fatter body underneath was more than enough to ensure that it never progressed into anything more.

“You’ll never guess what I managed to get tickets for!” Jay blasted one Wednesday evening as he came in for his session.

“No way?” Matt grinned, knowing exactly where Jay was going with this. “You got them? But the concert has been sold out for months!”

“They were giving away tickets on the radio. I phoned up, answered some trivia questions live on air with someone else and… they’re mine!” he grinned, clearly delighted with himself.

“Congratulations!” Matt beamed. “I’m so jealous! You’re going to have such a great time!”

“No… WE’RE going to have such a great time,” Jay corrected him. “They asked me on the radio show who I wanted to take with me, and I told them your name. You’re the only person I know who is as obsessed with them as I am. No one else would appreciate it like you would.”

Matt’s initial reaction was to decline. There were many clients who tried to socialise outside of these sessions, but it was almost always unprofessional to do so. However, he had also desperately wanted to see this band since he was eight years old. Plus, he and Jay did genuinely seem to get on pretty well.”

“Can I give you some money for the ticket then?” he asked.

“No, I got them for free,” Jay shot back, shaking his head.

“Well, I’ll drive us then,” Matt tried to compromise, knowing that the concert was a good couple of hours away. “I know where your new place is. I can pick you up at about 4pm on Saturday afternoon?”

Jay nodded, accepting the offer without hesitation. Then, for the rest of the week, Matt was telling all of his clients about the concert and how excited he was. He was amazed that not a single person had heard of the band or even recognised any of the tracks when he played a couple of samples for them on his cell phone. ‘What the hell was wrong with people?’ he thought to himself, highlighting in his mind just how much better he clicked with Jay than anyone else he worked with.

That Saturday, Matt didn’t really know who he was trying to impress as he slipped on his most expensive shirt and left the last three buttons undone to expose part of his strapping chest. He turned up at Jay’s building, expecting to head straight off, but was instead buzzed inside.

“Sorry!” Jay spluttered, opening the door to him, covered with only a small towel around his waist, fresh from the shower. “I had a big lunch and fell asleep! I only woke up ten minutes ago.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt nodded, trying to keep his eyes fixed on Jay’s face and not look down to explore his client’s beautifully chubby proportions. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Jay trotted back into his bedroom; his jiggly love handles bouncing with the quick pace he was going at. Matt simply took a deep breath and tried to control the arousal that he felt. He looked around the apartment, coming to one very obvious conclusion: This was the home of a fat guy. It was obvious; from the small armies of empty beer cans, to the carnage of emptied take out containers and pizza boxes. Discarded clothes dotted the space and Matt found himself meandering into the kitchen; his curiosity getting the better of him. He opened the refrigerator and peeked in all of the cupboards as quietly as he possibly could. What he found was far worse than he ever would have imagined: cakes, candy, cookies and several containers of those disastrous protein shakes… Jay had the lot, and then some. The guy was eating like a pig and putting on weight at a frankly alarming rate. Matt tried to breathe deeply again, but this time, the blood rushing towards his groin seemed determined to give him a full on erection.

“Thanks for waiting for me,” Jay smiled moments later, coming out in a shirt that was far too small for his stout little gut. He opened the refrigerator and downed one of his shakes, as was his usual routine at this time. Once again, Matt had to look away. Then, as the last of it drained, Jay lifted his arms and pumped his biceps, now covered in a good layer of pure fat.

The conversation flowed well in the car as the pair listened to a few of the band’s old albums and talked at length about their shared interests.

“If we’ve still got twenty minutes before we need to go in, I’m going to find some food,” Jay declared once they had parked up. He walked slightly ahead as Matt tried to avert his eyes away from the guy’s wide, overfed glutes, barely contained in his overly tight pants. “I absolutely love bulking,” he declared a few minutes later, holding a giant burger in both hands and raising it part way to his mouth. Then, like a genuine glutton, he dropped his head over it and began feasting with his large shoulders hunched forwards.

Matt genuinely did try to enjoy the concert, but he was conscious of trying to hold back an erection the entire time. He wondered why his brain had to be wired up this way. Why couldn’t he just enjoy the music without getting turned on by the significantly chubby guy he had come here with? He’d had to sit for significant periods of the concert with his hands resting over his crotch as Jay danced beside him, arms up in the air and his rounded tummy popping out. It was so humid in there, making Jay glow with a beautiful fat-boy sweat and ensuring that his clothes plastered themselves to his thick body even more than they already were doing.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Jay smiled the moment the lights came up. “How would you like to go backstage?”

Matt couldn’t believe it as he was shaking hands with his idols and chatting away with other fans backstage only minutes later. It truly was an extraordinary night.

“So, how do you guys know each other?” the lead singer asked as he came up to them both at the bar.

“Matt’s my personal trainer,” Jay answered, downing his beer into his bloated belly.

“I can see you’ve got your work cut out for you,” the singer whispered to Matt, tapping him on his strong back in sympathy.

“I’m in the best shape of my life,” Matt went on, clearly a little tipsy. He put his beer down and reached into his tight pocket to pull out his cell phone. “This is me, before I started training,” he declared, passing the singer a picture of him from just under eleven months ago: slim, handsome, athletic.

“And this is you… ‘before’ you started training?” the guy asked, ensuring that he wasn’t misunderstanding.

Jay nodded enthusiastically, raising his chubby arms to flex and simultaneously letting his chubby belly fall out for the umpteenth time that evening.

“Right,” the singer nodded, confused and surprised; possibly wondering if Jay was making some sort of joke. He slapped Matt on the back once more, then headed off to speak to some others.

When Jay asked to stop off for more food on the way back, Matt didn’t feel that he really had the right to refuse him after the night they had had together. However, it was yet another torturous exercise, having to sit next to Jay as he was gorging his fat body on more fries and burgers in the passenger seat. The sounds of his greedy chewing and swallowing were turning on an already stimulated sex drive to even greater extremes.

“I thought he might have been flirting with you,” Jay explained as they discussed their encounter with the lead singer. “The way he kept on tapping you on the back like that.”

“That wasn’t what that was about,”  Matt answered simply as he tried to control the boner he was getting, listening to Jay sucking air as he reached the end of his gigantic milkshake.

“You must have people flirting with you all the time, the shape you’re in,” Jay continued, stuffing the last of the fries into his mouth.

Matt took a breath in, wondering how to answer something like that. The answer was yes; he certainly did get a lot of attention from both guys and girls. But, as was being made strikingly clear to him that evening, the types of people he found attractive himself were often quite far from what most would expect.

“You don’t talk much about this sort of stuff, do you?” Jay asked him next after a pause.

“Neither do you,” Matt shot back.

“I’m just out of a long term relationship,” Jay replied grandly.

“Over a year ago!” Matt laughed. “In that case, I can use the same excuse.”

“You mean that huge guy we met in the coffee house that time? You were really into him?”

“I was in love with him, yes,” Matt replied, feeling that the conversation was getting a little too close to the bone now.

“How did he get that big? Was he always fat? Or did he just put on weight as an adult?” Jay pressed on obliviously.

“Combination of both, I expect,” Matt shrugged, trying to think of how to shift the conversation away from his ex.

“Do you think I could ever get as big as he is?” Jay asked.

Matt looked across at Jay in confusion. “Chris wasn’t a weight lifter, y’know?” he stated plainly. “He was probably as weak as a kitten. He was just… very overweight.”

“I just remember him being large,” Jay shrugged. “Guys like that always make me feel a little jealous.”

“There aren’t many people who would be jealous of Chris’ body type,” Matt chuckled, assuming that Jay was making fun.

“I think, if I kept up my protein shakes, I’d have a chance at getting to his sort of size,” Jay pondered aloud.

“I have no doubt that you would,” Matt nodded. “But it wouldn’t be lean muscle, I can promise you that.”

“Do you think it would suit me?” Jay asked playfully back.

Now Matt felt entirely on the backfoot. There was no way to answer the question without incriminating himself somehow. “I guess so,” he mumbled vaguely.

“So, do you think I should give up weight lifting then?” the guy immediately replied..

“I didn’t say that,” Matt countered.

“It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently. I’ve had a lot more success gaining weight and getting big in other ways, rather than muscle. Maybe I should just focus on that?”

“You know exactly what I’d say to that. I’m a personal trainer!” Matt reminded him. “Of course you’re not supposed to give up weight training and just let yourself get fat.”

“You can be such a square sometimes,” Jay laughed. “You’re so caught up with your diet plans, your nutrition goals and research papers on exercise schedules. You forget that most people don’t care about any of that stuff. It’s all about feeling good in your own body.”

The last fifteen minutes of the journey went by a little smoother, with the conversation naturally evolving into something lighter.

“Want to come in and grab those recipe books you lent me?” Jay asked as they parked up outside his building.

Thinking about another of his clients, Matt nodded keenly. It was more than obvious that Jay had little interest in any of the lean meals in them, so why not pass them on? He followed the guy up the stairs, allowing his brain to fantasise about taking the chubby guy straight into his bedroom. Now that he knew he would be home in twenty minutes and able to release all the pent-up sexual frustration from his evening with Jay, he somehow felt more able to embrace it; gazing with lust at those giant glutes, like round globes of fat, pressed tightly into Jay’s pants as he walked up the stairs ahead of him.

“They’ll be in my closet somewhere,” Jay explained, leading Matt into his bedroom. Inside here, the mess of take out containers continued, making it clear that Jay did just as much of his eating in bed, as he did anywhere else in the apartment. He reached over a pile of boxes and leaned into this closet, presenting Matt with a full view of his wide rear. Matt simply stared at it, swooning.

Jay had to lean in more and more, too lazy to move the boxed out of the way, and grunting from the effort. Matt told him not to worry; that he could get them some other time, but still Jay persevered, leaning even more of his weight onto the boxes at the front. Then, in a split second, they gave way underneath him, sending Jay falling head first into the closet, his legs up in the air.

Matt grabbed at him in a swift rescue, lifting him up and out by pulling him by his waistband and trying to reach his arm in to hold Jay just above his waist. He was a very heavy boy indeed, and not easy to shift, but eventually he came, looking significantly worse for wear. The most stressed buttons on his shirt had popped clean off and his pants had ripped as Matt had tried to pull him up from behind.

“Sorry about that,” Matt mumbled, seeing what a state Jay now looked in his torn clothes. He’d had to pull him at a strange angle to get him back upright and, although he hoped it wasn’t the case, there was a possibility that Jay might have felt the erection in his pants as he was put back on his feet.

Jay flattened his hair and shuffled over to his mirror. His fingers explored the ripped buttons and torn material. There was his little fat belly popping out like never before; his significant fat gains never looking more obvious. The hallmarks of actual obesity starting to shine through.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Matt asked, wondering why Jay was so stunned; his nervousness increasing by the second.

“If I asked you to stay tonight, would you?” Jay asked simply.

“Why do you want me to stay?” Matt asked. “Do you think you’ve hurt yourself?”

Jay did not answer, but simply unbuttoned only the remaining buttons of his shirt and let the material fall to the floor. “Stay,” he repeated, letting Matt’s gaze fall in its entirety upon his bloated, fattened body. “I can tell that you’d like to.”

Matt allowed himself to enjoy the sight. His fingers twitched at his side, desperate to explore and touch. “Do you mean that?” he asked, no longer hiding his interest.

Jay nodded, grabbing a wedge of his own fat. “Let’s just say, you’re not the only person who gets a boner over this stuff.”

Immediately, Matt pulled Jay into a deeply passionate kiss. Their hands began to explore each other and they soon fell, entirely naked onto the unmade bed. Finally, the fizzing sexual tension that had been torturing Matt all night was set free; the fireworks still to come.

Matt woke the next morning as the light began pouring in through Jay’s window. He turned, seeing the bloated boy still resting deeply. Despite his good looks, this wasn’t the sort of thing that Matt ever did. He could count on a single hand how many guys he had slept with in the past, and he could explain how each one of them had eventually ended up breaking his heart. 

Jay stirred as Matt made an attempt to get out of bed. “Morning,” he called out. “What a wild night, huh?”

Matt smiled. “Pretty wild, yeah!” he nodded.

“Did I do it okay?” Jay asked sweetly. “I’ve never tried to give a blow job before.”

“You did great!” Matt nodded. “Amazing, in fact,” he added, remembering how quickly they had both climaxed last night. He’d worked on Jay first and then the sweet guy worked his mouth on Matt until he came in less than a minute. 

“Could you go and get me my shake out of the refrigerator?” Jay asked next, sitting up. “I forgot to have my last one when we got back yesterday, so I’ll have to make up for it this morning. In fact, bring me two,” he reconsidered. “I’ll get it down now.”

Matt hesitated for a moment. He knew that, officially, as Jay’s trainer, he wasn't supposed to approve of these shakes. Still, he was in Jay’s apartment, having just spent the night, so he could hardly start lecturing him now.

Still in a state of undress, Matt slipped out of the room and tiptoed over the mess that was littering the living space. He opened the fridge and felt a pang of arousal as he remembered just how many Jay had prepared for himself.

“Thanks,” Jay smiled, getting back from the bathroom as Matt returned. “I can still feel that burger from last night,” he chuckled, rubbing the shelf of stomach fat, before taking a deep deep breath chugging one of the shakes.

Matt’s penis, which hadn’t been flaccid since the moment he woke up next to Jay, began to pump itself harder upon watching Jay drink. He found it embarrassing how quickly his arousal responded to stuff like this and he moved his hand to cover it up; not wanting Jay to see and realise what a freak he was. However, as he looked at the bedsheets, he could see that the same thing was happening to Jay as well, with his own hardness pushing the material upwards, throbbing up and down like a heartbeat.

Taking himself off to the bathroom, Matt calmed himself down. He was so into Jay, he couldn’t ruin it, like last time. When he returned, both shakes were emptied and Jay was up, checking his body out in the mirror; that old jock physique of his destroyed and replaced with the chubby, overfed form there was today. Gone was the youthful pertness of his glutes, now so wide and juicy. All the added fat had swollen his chest up so considerably, with his new, pointed nipples looking alert and sharp as they started to droop a little onto the broad, shockingly ball-like stomach that completely dominated the boy’s appearance.

Matt went over and kissed the chub sweetly, hoping that Jay wouldn’t feel differently now the morning had arrived. Afterwards, he took the guy’s hand and then gently led him back to bed; making love to him slowly and passionately this time; wanting to show Jay just how much he could adore and cherish him, if he would only give him the chance.

When Jay turned up for their training session the next day, there was an air of mischief about him. The pair of them were chuckling and smiling, knowing exactly what they had got up to at the weekend and excited to be in each other’s company again. Now when Matt had to touch him, supporting his arms in a certain way, or correcting his posture, it sent waves of pleasure through his entire body. If he tried to get tough with Jay to get him to build up a sweat, the guy would come back with something flirtatious or rude, making Matt laugh.

“What time do you finish tonight?” Jay asked after a particularly arousing session where Jay had actually done very little indeed.

“Ten,” Matt replied, wincing at how late it was going to be.

“That’s okay,” Jay smiled excitedly. “Want to stay over again?”

Matt looked around, trying to hold himself back from wanting to kiss Jay right there and then; the cutest, chubbiest guy currently at the gym that moment. He knew how unprofessional it was to be dating his client. In some ways, it was like playing with fire; both terrifying and thrilling. “Want me to bring anything over?” he asked politely, knowing how low Jay was getting on supplies like lubricant and condoms after the weekend.

“You could pick me up some doughnuts,” Jay happily agreed.

“Oh, right. Okay,” Matt mumbled in surprise. That hadn’t been what he had meant at all. “Any particular kind?” he offered, not wanting to spoil the mood by declining.

“Just the twelve pack that you can get at the late night convenience place at the end of my street,” Jay answered him, clearly wanting to kiss him goodbye, but knowing that he couldn’t here.

Slapping the twelve pack of doughnuts on the counter a while later, Matt couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. Here he was getting a spark of arousal at buying all this sugar and fat for his chubby lover. What would people say if they knew? He strolled over to Jay’s place and was buzzed in, finding the apartment door open as he made it up the stairs.

Seeing his chubby boy sprawled out on the couch, Matt took off his shirt and smiled, closing the door behind him before he marched straight over to kiss his new lover. Still dressed in his gym clothes, Jay’s stomach was falling out of his t-shirt as he twisted his head for the kiss. Two more empty flasks of shake sat on the floor beside the couch, alongside another pizza box that Jay must have picked up right after his workout.

Matt had slipped his hand onto Jay’s tummy as he went back for another kiss. How could he tell him off for his bad diet when he looked so adorable right now?

“Did you get my doughnuts?” Jay asked.

Matt nodded, getting up to collect them and feeling surprised at how eagerly Jay took them from him.

“Amazing! You got the cream filled ones!” Jay cheered, ripping the box open and pushing a doughnut straight in his mouth.

Matt hadn’t realised that there were different types, having just bought the first pack he’d found in the store, but he was pleased that it was giving Jay so much pleasure. He gazed with adoration as he ate, feeling himself falling hard for the guy. He sat there, on the floor, below the couch, rubbing Jay’s leg, observing it all. Doughnut number 5, 6 and 7 disappeared. Afterwards, Matt slipped in beside him, kissing his head from behind and holding the overfed boy tenderly. Whilst he couldn’t wait to sleep with Jay again, these tender moments were something he never wanted to rush.

“Did anyone notice that we were flirting at the gym? Jay asked as they lay tenderly together later on. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“That’s not something I want you to worry about,” Matt whispered into his ear. “I can handle any fallout if it comes to that.”

“I’ve actually wanted to quit weight training for quite some time. I just didn’t know how to tell you properly. Then our little relationship wouldn’t be so much of an issue.”

“So, we’re in a relationship, huh?” Matt teased, beaming with pride and hugging his boyfriend tightly from behind. “I don’t want you to give it up just for me, though,” he added regretfully.

“You’re the only reason I stuck it out so long,” Jay chuckled. “The truth is, I’m getting a lot more of a buzz out of developing my mass in ways that aren’t strength training related.”

Matt lifted his head as he lay in bed and looked down at the fat filled stomach on Jay; his hardness immediately throbbed into the guy’s doughy glutes. He wished he could control it; still wanting to conceal the fact that he found the idea of Jay becoming even more overweight so wildly erotic. He realised that as much as he would try to reason with Jay about his overeating and general laziness, his dick would always be there, trying to undermine his words of caution.

Although Jay didn’t acknowledge it with his words, he reached across for yet another doughnut, even though he had previously said he was stuffed. Was that for Matt’s benefit? Was he doing it to turn him on? Perhaps it was yet another unintended error of Matt’s that was dragging Jay even further down this crazy rabbit hole.

Jay’s gains began to speed up quite dramatically within the first six months of their relationship; Matt’s guilt increasing with every pound. There were times when he should have stepped in to stop Jay pushing his appetite too hard. When he discovered Jay buying in clothes for himself that were far too large, he could have asked why. He knew so much about nutrition and what it all was doing to Jay’s body, bloating it more and more beyond recognition. He’d crossed 300lbs. That should have been a moment for them both to take stock and reevaluate things; but the arousal of it all; the way Jay seemed to not care in the slightest about how people were seeing him these days; that confidence; the love that Matt felt for him. It all culminated to ensure the personal trainer kept quiet and allowed it to continue.

Jay’s body was stunning. There wasn’t a single spot where the fat hadn’t done its work, softening and swelling him up. With the lack of weight training, Jay’s chest had succumbed to the blubber, now filling up under his armpits and inflating his arms. All the while, his gut and wide butt quietly continued to grow ever more; becoming more extreme with each passing day. 

Matt couldn’t say not to Jay on his birthday. He’d asked him again and again what he wanted to do for it: a day trip, a weekend hotel stay, any gift he wanted. But all Jay had insisted on was a take-out meal in front of the TV.

“This ice cream is definitely the best,” Jay smiled, scooping out from the tub with his spoon. “I can’t believe you found some!”

“Well, you’re worth it,” Matt smiled. “I even found some of those special flavour doughnuts that you tried a few months ago. So you’ve got something to enjoy tomorrow as well.”

“Tomorrow?” Jay chuckled sceptically. “I’ll be having those bad boys tonight! It is my birthday after all!”

Matt laughed and nodded. There was no arguing with that logic.

“In fact,” Jay continued. “I’d like you to be the one to feed them to me.”

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Matt pretended to spill his glass of water and made a fuss, grabbing a towel from the kitchen.

“Why do you always do that?” Jay asked, obviously downbeat. “You’ve got to know that I love the idea of you feeding me. We both clearly get off on how fat I’m getting. Everyone thinks you’re a feeder now. They saw you with your ex; they’ve seen me getting over 350lbs. You’ve heard them whispering it behind your back. So why won’t you ever feed me?”

Matt tried to brush the comments off. It wasn’t the right time; not on Jay’s birthday. However, his refusal to answer only seemed to make things worse. “Okay,” he finally surrendered. “I’m not being coy,” he admitted. “I… I just…” he stumbled. “It was when I was dating Chris.”

“The four hundred pound guy you were with before me?” Jay asked, with only a mild hint of jealousy.

“Chris and I didn’t meet at a club like I told everyone. We actually met on a kink website for feeders and gainers.” 

“How did I not know this?” Jay laughed, realising that his shy boyfriend had been holding out on him the entire time. “So you used to feed Chris to make him gain weight?”

Matt nodded. “It was great. It felt amazing. I fell ridiculously in love with the guy. He put on about 40lbs in the time we were together.”

“You dark horse!” Jay joked, barely containing his delight.

“But it just wrecked things in the end. We both wanted him bigger and fatter. We spoke about it endlessly. But when Chris was in a mood with me for something, he used to blame only me for making him fat. He said it was all my fault he was so unhappy. I spent so much of my time trying to make him smile and the second something pissed him off, he’d throw it all back in my face.”

“That’s not very nice,” Jay agreed, pleased to finally learn how Matt’s previous relationship had ended.

“Then there was one day when Chris’ car broke down. He came over in such a bad mood and started taking it all out on me. He ended up getting drunk and heading out with his friends. He made out to them all that I was fattening him secretly. He even messaged my parents to say the same thing.”

“Shit!” Jay cringed for him, now realising why Matt’s parents had never been especially warm with him.

“Chris apologised, of course. But it was too late. Fake news like that travels like wildfire. Even though I knew I was always going to be attracted to bigger guys, I always promised myself, I wouldn’t ever get caught up in a situation like that again. Not if it risked making someone as special as you so unhappy.”

Jay nodded, completely understanding. “It makes sense,” he nodded in agreement. “But you’re not to blame for how I’m turning out. I’m not Chris, and I never have been.”

“I get that, but..” Matt tried to counter.

“No, I mean it. I’ve wanted to be a fat boy for as long as I can remember. I felt so ashamed about it. I thought a muscle gain might quench that thirst, but it didn’t. There is no part of me that is doing this just for your pleasure,” he stated sincerely. “So stop with the guilt.”

Matt nodded, feeling that he had been thoroughly put in his place. This wasn’t all about him. This was Jay’s journey.

“But I think you also know how huge I want to get. I know you’ve spotted some of the clothes I’ve been buying recently,” Jay smiled.

“Yeah, those sweatpants you bought the other day…” Matt nodded knowingly. “They were something else!”

Jay beamed with pride. “Aren’t they just!” he chuckled. “So why don’t you tell me, seriously,” he insisted. “How do you really feel about me getting so fat that I could actually wear pants like that?”

Matt considered his answer, knowing how upfront and honest they were both trying to be that evening. “Excited,” he replied simply. “Really turned on by it.”

“So, would you be willing to help me with getting there?” Jay asked.

Matt knew what Jay was asking of him and he sighed at the hard choice he was having to make. “I really want to,” he admitted, rubbing Jay’s rounded gut and admiring the tight softness. “It’s been so difficult trying to hold myself back sometimes.”

“Then stop,” Jay shrugged. “You know that I’m doing this, with or without your help.”

The two men looked at each other with true honesty in their eyes. “Okay,” Matt smiled at last. “Okay, I’ll.. try.”

Jay beamed brightly and slouched his fat body into the tortured couch, placing his limp hands at his side and opening his mouth, waiting. “No time like the present. It is my birthday, after all!”

Matt, who had not been anticipating such an immediate start, fumbled slightly, not knowing what to do as he picked up a doughnut from the table. “Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked nervously.

Jay nodded, raising his eyebrows with excitement, but did not close his mouth as the doughnut was dangled so wonderfully close to his face.

With the doughnut in his hand, Matt pressed it into Jay’s greedy mouth. The boy moaned in appreciation and took as large a bite as he could. The sound was instantly arousing. Already he felt the sugar uncomfortably sticking to his fingers. By the time the third bite came along, he knew the remaining piece was too big, but pushed it into Jay’s mouth anyway; making the fat boy’s cheeks swell with fattening dough and sugar. Yet, still the glutton gorged, sucking the sugar off Matt’s fingers as soon as he possibly could. This was hot!

Jay’s hand reached towards the hunk’s crotch, feeling the arousal his part in the feeding had given him. Then he smirked gleefully. There was no hiding anything now as they both undressed entirely. “Feed me another,” he demanded.

Matt did as he was told, picking up more confidence with each fresh doughnut he pushed into the horny boy’s mouth. Seeing sugar glistening on the glutton’s cheeks, the arousal in his eyes; the pleasure he took from drawing this side of Matt out.

“Am I a good piggy?” Jay asked teasingly,sucking on Matt’s hardness as the doughnuts were all finished at last.

Moaning softly, feeling his dick getting sticky from the fat guy’s sugary saliva, Matt nodded in agreement. Had Jay really just referred to himself as a ‘piggy’?

“Say it then,” Jay demanded, letting his hand take over for the few seconds he needed his mouth to talk. “Tell me what a good, fattening pig I am.”

Matt’s brain was foggy with lust. He could tell that Jay was already holding back, not allowing him to climax just yet. “You’re a good piggy,” he heard himself saying, worrying that he could ejaculate the moment he felt the words leaving his mouth. “And I do want you get fatter,” he admitted. “I always have.”

“Prove it then,” Jay suddenly demanded, slipping his mouth and hands away from Matt’s hardness; cutting him off in an instant.

“How?” Matt asked, having been so close to finishing before this abrupt stop.

“The refrigerator,” Jay simply replied; smirking in triumph.

Matt knew in an instant what he needed to do. He headed straight over and collected Jay’s calorie shake from the cool refrigerator and held it in his hands, about to become the world’s biggest hypocrite after everything he had said about these things.

“What do you want me to do?” asked a super horny birthday boy, laying back again and letting the fat splay into the seat once more.

“I want you to drink it,” Matt replied, already unscrewing the lid.

“What’s it going to do to me?” Jay whispered next, savouring the kinky moment between them both.

“It’s going to make you fatter,” Matt smiled back, so happy to be drawn into the game; so happy that he was doing this at last.

Matt stepped closer to the fat boy and then sat beside him, using his free hand to jiggle the immense softness that had enveloped Jay’s torso, whilst kissing him deeply. Then, just as Jay was really getting into it, he lifted his free hand up and gently rocked the boy’s head backwards so that his mouth pointed towards the ceiling, in position for the pouring.

“Are you ready, Piggy?” Matt asked, finally unleashing his true self. “It’s time to grow for me…”

Jay’s eyes were dancing with excitement as they drifted from his feeder’s gaze and up towards the ominously held jug of calorie shake looming above his head. Then, just like that, his mouth opened wider than Matt had ever seen it go before.

Matt couldn’t put his finger on when exactly he came, but he knew he hadn’t been done pouring. His fat boy had slipped his pudgy, sweaty hand onto his hardness and tugged at it; pushed it right into his giant, jiggling stomach, until Matt could stand it no longer. His orgasm had been years in the making and he moaned louder than any of his former lovers had ever heard him.

A new beast had just been unleashed.

[devourable]

† church boy

[ sfw | tw : religion (not named but heavily implied), sacrilege, potential religious trauma? as well as general yandere content but it’s v tame ]

male yandere x gender neutral reader! only pronoun used for reader is ‘you’. i havent written like this in a very long time so i apologize if this is bad ;_;

abraham lived a simple life for the majority of his 21 years on this planet. he was born and raised in a religious household, the only son of a wealthy pastor, surrounded by typical bible-thumping folk who taught him that *** was above everything, above him, above the things he loved, and putting anything (or anyone) above his faith would surely result in his damnation. and his whole life, he believed that.

that was… until you entered his life.

it happened at a fundraiser he was volunteering at. it was any other day for the boy, handing out advertisements and chatting with everyone that came and went. an average, mundane event for him where he’d talk about the same things he did every day, smile, wave, everything that was expected of him.

after the last person in his line had left, he looked down to begin organizing his things so he could join the rest of the party. when he was shadowed by someone stepping in front of him again, he expected to see a familiar face — maybe someone that might’ve forgotten something? but when he looked up…

abraham’s breath caught in his throat. he swore the earth had stopped spinning the second your eyes locked.

whether if you were there because you shared the same religion, was dragged there by a friend/family member, or simply because there was free food, he had no clue - but it didn't matter. your looks, the way you moved, the sound of your voice — why was it all so... enchanting?

he couldn’t help the slight stutter in his words as he hastily offered you a pamphlet, quickly introducing himself and inquiring about you. what was your name? were you new to the church? why haven’t you met before?

the soft laugh you emitted as you spoke and the feeling of your skin grazing his felt like fire. and your name... oh, the poor boy didn’t even realize it, but he couldn’t help it — within moments of knowing you, he had grown totally enamored!

abraham found himself hovering by your side for the rest of the event. he was awkward, you’d quickly realize, but it was in that sort of sweet, inexperienced way. he was desperate to know you, to get closer to you, hoping that maybe if he could understand you, he’d figure out how to quell these intense feelings that had built within him — but to you and everyone else, he was simply making sure a new face wasn’t alone during the event. he was just being a good little pastor’s boy! that’s what he told himself too, over and over again.

he was being good by making you laugh. he was being good by giving you his number. and it was good that he grew elated by the idea of getting to see you again after this. he was a good person, so what if he was neglecting his duties to be around you? he did what he was supposed to all the time, surely he could be forgiven just this once.

right?

his obsession with you didn’t take long to blossom after that first meeting. you started to infiltrate every part of his life in one way or another. his prayers became tangled up with thoughts of you. rather than reading the bible, he’d reread the texts between the two of you while he waited for you to respond to them. when he went to church, he found himself scanning the pews in hopes of spotting you among the congregation rather than finding a seat right away. when service began, he couldn’t focus on the preaching taking place because he was too busy thinking of ways to see you again.

despite the utter adoration abraham had grown to feel for you.. at some point, for the first time in his life, he couldn’t help but wonder — was he becoming sinful? was he growing gluttonous for your attention? he couldn’t have been, he had been so devout his entire life! it was fine for him to miss a few services to see you as long as he made up for it later…

he couldn’t tell if you were an angel, as heaven-sent as he felt you to be, or if you were the embodiment of temptation, pulling him away from his faith and beckoning him to sin. were you both? could you be both? with the progression of his obsession with you, his conflicted feelings about his relationship with his faith grew alongside it.

maybe you just weren’t any good for him.

but your name and god seemed to always come up at the same time…

so maybe, it was a sign that he had someone new to worship.

[luvrgreyy]

LAMBS TO THE SLAUGHTER, i

leon kennedy x religious f!reader

word count: 2.5k summary: small towns, small minds. masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

next chapter

18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE. religious themes, religious trauma, forced conformity, mentions of neglectful/abusive parents, age gap(reader is 19, leon is 27), spying on neighbor, alcohol consumption. there will be smut in future chapters.

a/n: wooooo i’m finally done!!! been working on this since late april/early may, and im so glad i get to finally show you guys what i’ve been working on these past few weeks. PS donations are super duper appreciated and they really motivate me to write more. <33

you disliked sundays. growing up, you had grown to dread those unfulfilling hours spent in church, but the early mornings were the worst.

your parents, staunch believers and church officials, had raised you on the principles of religious devotion, making it a non-negotiable start to each week.

your aversion to church was not born out of rebellion or a lack of faith, but rather, it stemmed from the fact that you've always been perceived as different. you were an outcast, a black sheep amidst a flock of white. the townsfolk, with their narrow-minded views and an unsatiated hunger for gossip, saw your eccentricity not as a unique characteristic to be celebrated, but as an anomaly to be scorned.

at first, your parents had brushed it off, attributing it to you having a rebellious phase. though the snide comments and complaints proved too much for them to ignore.

sunday dresses in demure pastel shades, polished mary janes, and a bible clutched in your hands became your uniform. they hoped that the facade would be enough to silence the wagging tongues. and with every layer of lace and propriety they added, they hoped to smother the you that didn't fit into their mold of perfection.

you’d frown every time you recalled the countless times you’d spend cooped up in the stale, stuffy church, the air thick with saccharine hymns and pious chatter. the suffocating confines of the pews made you yearn for any excuse to escape.

and yet, you would swallow down the discomfort, plaster a convincing smile on your face, and try to blend into the sea of devout worshippers.

despite your best efforts to conform, your parents' reprimands were a constant reminder of your shortcomings. "fix your dress," your mother would chide. "straighten your socks," your father would command, a sigh escaping his lips as he looked at your disheveled state. and always, always, "tidy your hair," would be their unanimous complaint, their hands reaching out to smooth your unruly locks into submission.

as the church bells tolling signaled the beginning of another soul-sucking service, a sense of dread would settle in your chest. the early mornings meant rising before the sun had even begun to paint the sky, where sleep still clung to your eyelids.

you reluctantly sit beside your parents, a sense of suffocation washing over you. the stagnant air, tinged with the scent of incense, felt heavy with the weight of forced piety. you’d force yourself to sit up, the yawns trapped in your throat, as bleary eyes strained to focus on the sermon droning on in front of you. the morning service continued as usual, blending into an excruciatingly tedious routine.

each and every time, you would silently count down the hours, minutes, and seconds until the final amen was uttered.

the minute the pastor would proclaim, "go in peace to love and serve the lord," you'd be out of your seat and trudging home with your parents.

the open sky, the whisper of the wind, and the rustling of leaves were your sanctuary.

the neighborhood filled with rows of neat, uniformly built houses, their well-kept lawns and identical facades creating a picture-perfect tableau of suburban tranquility.

however, a single house stood out like a sore thumb. it was a stark departure from the typical architectural sameness, unkempt front yard overrun with weeds and unruly foliage.

you scrunch your nose as your gaze settled on the eyesore, the lawns left untrimmed, windows grimy with neglect. but this sunday was different.

the old 'for sale' sign that had been staked it’s front yard for what seemed like forever had gone. in its place, a few boxes were piled haphazardly on the front porch.

“didn’t know we had new neighbors,” you’d mumble as you pass by the house.

you caught your parents exchanging glances before you’d hear your mother’s hushed tone. “something kennedy, heard some of the ladies from church talking ‘bout him.”

him? a man? you furrow your brow as you process the information. 'him', your mother had said. the new neighbor, was a man. curiosity gets the better of you. you make a mental note to peek out the window later and try to catch a glimpse of him.

“what’s he like?”

your inquiring tone is met with a grimace from your mother, her demeanor already reflecting her preconceived notions.

“not good.” her hand reaches out to adjust your skirt, her voice laced with a disapproving frown. “people like him are rude, uncouth, and quite.. unsavory.”

unsavory? what did that even mean? were they saying he was trouble? a delinquent?

your father merely grunts in agreement, his eyes fixated ahead, avoiding eye contact. “people like him ain’t meant to be in places like this,” he spat out.

"we don't want you talking to him, y'hear?" your father adds, his tone firm and reprimanding.

"he's nothing but trouble. the last thing we need is him rubbing off on you."

your mother chimes in, her tone echoing the sternness of your father. "we don't need you gettin' roped into any of his nonsense."

you let out a silent sigh as the conversation comes to an abrupt stop.

you reach home, the silence only broken by the faint clinking of keys as your father opens the door.

evening arrives, the afternoon sun hangs low in the sky, its rays of orange and red angling through your bedroom window. you're left with an hour before dinner to fill.

boredom claws at your skin, leaving you itchy and unsatisfied. you drag yourself out of bed, your feet sinking into the plush carpet. restless legs carry you to the front window, where you perch yourself on the sill, eyes scanning the neighboring yard. you squint, trying to make out any details through the dusty glass.

and then, you see him. leaning against the porch railing of his front door, he's lounging in a pair of faded jeans and a plain black t-shirt that hung loosely off his broad shoulders.

he stretched, his back arched, and let out a loud yawn. for a moment, you simply stared.

he's not what you were expecting. so different from the uptight men in your town. more relaxed, more casual. the loose-fitting clothes couldn't hide the defined muscles that rippled beneath his skin.

and as if sensing your gaze, his head snaps sideways to look at you. just for a second. his eyes, sterling blue, are locked onto yours.

you quickly duck behind the curtain, cheeks flushed a deep shade of red.

you couldn’t help it, really. you wait a few moments before peeking out again. hoping he didn’t see you, hoping he’d be gone.

you peer out the window once more. and he's still there. your heart skips a beat as your gaze meets his again. he raises an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. like he knows you've been watching him. you quickly drop down behind the curtain, cheeks burning crimson once more.

you spend the rest of the evening avoiding eye contact with your parents, the shame of being caught ogling the neighbor burning hot under your skin.

you can't focus on anything. television, chores, even dinner becomes an impossible task.

that night, you find yourself tossing and turning. thoughts of the neighbor cloud your mind. what was he doing just standing there? why did you get so flustered? sleep eludes you as you toss and turn. finally, in a fit of restlessness, you throw off the covers and slip out of bed. padding down the hallway in your nightgown, you pause outside your parents' bedroom door. the faint noise of their gentle snores drifts out.

continuing on, you make your way to the front window. pulling back the curtains, you peer out into the night. his house is dark, no signs of life. a gentle breeze stirs the leaves of the trees between the houses, causing the moonlight to dance across the lawn. you let the curtains fall back into place, a strange longing bubbling up inside you. what is wrong with you? you scold yourself. get some sleep. it's just your silly imagination running wild.

you wake up late, sunlight streaming in through the window. silence greets you, a rare treat with your parents having already left for work hours ago. stretching lazily, you sit up in bed and run your fingers through your tangled hair. yawning, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and pad downstairs.

you wander into the kitchen, pouring yourself a bowl of cereal. as you eat, your gaze drifts to the window. the curtains billow gently in the morning breeze.

the idea comes to you as you're rinsing your cereal bowl. what if you baked him a welcome gift? a peace offering for spying on him like a creep? an excuse to see him again? yes, exactly that. it's a sweet gesture. a kind thing to do. you can apologize and introduce yourself properly.

you'll bake a batch and put them in a cute tin. that'll show him you're friendly, and apologetic. perfect!

you rummage through the kitchen cabinets, gathering up flour, sugar, eggs, and butter. the simple recipe is one your mother often makes. you follow the instructions, the repetitive motions of creaming and stirring calming your nerves. the aroma of baking cookies wafts through the house as you slide the tray into the oven. while you wait for them to cook, you grab a package of decorative bags from the pantry. filling one with the warm cookies, you tie the top shut with a twine bow.

you're dressed and ready to go by the time the cookies have cooled. a pale pink sundress with white floral embroidery adorns your small frame. the skirt hits just above your knees, while the straps hold up the bodice. your hair is pulled back into a half ponytail, a few strands framing your face. you look like a living doll. an adorable, innocent thing.

you slip on a pair of pink slippers you owned and snuck outside, keeping to the shadows as you make your way to his front door.

the cookies are pressed into your palm, the brown paper bag crinkling softly as you walk. your heart in your chest as you climb the steps to his front door.you take a deep breath, straightening your posture.

you ring the doorbell, shifting your weight from foot to foot. seconds tick by, and you ring again.

many moments pass. you begin to worry he's not home. just as you're about to turn and leave, the door swings open.

he stands before you, a towel draped around his shoulders, his chest still bare from showering. hair damp, he looks even more handsome than before. those piercing blue eyes meet yours, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

"can I help you?" his deep voice rumbles.

"hi, mister kennedy...i’m from next door. i, um..." you fumble, feeling stupid. "i saw you moving in yesterday and wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

“…and also to apologize for spying on you. I know it was really creepy and i’m sorry. these are just some cookies i baked to say hi and apologize.” you offer the bag, cheeks flushed.

he looks at you, really looks at you, for the first time since opening the door. his expression softens, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "aw, thank you. that's real sweet of you." he takes the bag from your trembling hands, his fingers brushing against yours.

he pauses, studying your blushing face.

"so you're the one who's been peeking out that window, huh?” he pauses, peering inside the small bag. "chocolate chip, my favorite."

“yes, i'm really sorry. wasn’t trying to be weird or anything,”

“’ts fine, dollface. didn’t really mind that much,” his gaze drifts up to your face, studying you intently. "you wanna come in for a sec? i just got out of the shower but i can throw on some clothes,"

you hesitate for a moment. enter his home? now? it didn’t feel right. you shake your head, feeling silly. you're just here to apologize, right? get the cookies out of the way and go.

“you sure? i know the it’s a mess right now, but there's some drinks in the fridge if you want one."

it's not like he’s asking to come over for a date or anything, right? it's just being friendly. you chew on your bottom lip, looking unsure. entering his home feels like crossing a boundary. but he did invite you... and it does feel kind of weird to just stand on the porch.

"yeah, o-okay... just for a second,” you say finally, stepping over the threshold.

the interior is just as he described — a mess of boxes and random items not yet unpacked. but it doesn't feel unfriendly. he leads you to what appears to be a living room, gesturing for you to have a seat on the couch."i'll just go grab us some drinks," he says, heading towards the kitchen. “you drink beer?”

you shake your head. “no, thank you. i don’t drink.” you sit down on the couch, smoothing your skirt over your thighs. the cushions are still wrapped in plastic, giving them a slippery texture under you.

"alright, no worries. just juice or soda then." he returns a moment later, now fully clothed, with a can of beer and a glass filled with juice or soda or something. you can't quite see. you take a sip, feeling a bit more at ease as you sit on his couch. it's not as bad as you thought it'd be.

“thank you, mister kennedy.”

“just leon, please. callin’ me mister makes me sound old,” he plops down beside you, close enough that your arms touch. his thigh presses against yours. it feels intentional. you shift uncomfortably, trying to put a little space between you. this is getting way too cozy.

“right. sorry, leon.”

he chuckles, taking a swig of his beer. the two of you sit in silence for a minute, sipping your drinks. it's actually kind of nice, just sitting like this together. you find yourself gradually relaxing, too. before you know it, hours has passed.

you blink, surprised. where did the time go? you glance at the clock on the mantel.

“oh, it’s getting late, i should probably get going," you say, standing up abruptly.

“mhm, probably a good idea,” he stands up, towering over you.

“i’ll walk you out," his hand brushes against your lower back as he walks you to the door. the light touch sends a shiver down your spine. you feel his eyes on you as he sees you out. the air feels charged. you quickly scurry back home, feeling his eyes piercing the back of your head. and you don’t dare look back.