#nick: does something nice

[quietwingsinthesky]

sometimes i think about my spn oc and how i rewrote everything about amara to interact with the story i was trying to tell about her. there were some really neat ideas in that i need to recycle for something one day. like, in the show proper, they just let amara take over a human baby and that’s fine, but amara’s not Meant To Be Here. this entire universe is one constructed in her absence. saying she can possess a human body should be like saying if you took a person and sent them to a universe where 1+1=3, they could just figure out how to function within that.

which in story took the form of Amara being something that could not be Understood, only Rationalized. a force locked outside the narrative who could only get inside and destroy things if given a role within it. by the Winchesters as A Monster To Face. by Chuck as Wayward, Unreachable Sister. and by miss oc as. simultaneously a projected creature to be saved, an amalgamation of injustices done to herself (and others) that would never be righted but could be made up for by being a part of this. and as something impossibly powerful that could be both protection and purpose.

and the Darkness wasn’t any of those things, really, but to have agency in her own story required new shackles, but ones she was always straining against. she wouldn’t fit inside the confines of a human mind, let alone a body, at least not well enough to leave it Intact. like lucifer burning through nick, but Worse. because the burns were an expected outcome of skin not strong enough to hold him. humans were built for angels, some were built better and some worse, but they’re meant to work. putting amara in human skin should disconnect the skin and mind and soul from the reality her brother built itself, i think. slowly. bit by bit.

and at the same time, i’d gone and written the kind of wild scenario you really can only write for your thirteen year old mary sue, given that spn oc the part of herald/high priestess/failed vessel. which she pursued with wild abandon like that would fix anything wrong with her <3

in the end, running alongside the borrowed family theming of the original show was my own theme of “how much self-annihilation will you accept to make your point. are you accepting it, really. or are you seeking it.” not just physically, in letting something unmake the base components of what you are as it tries to fit inside you or in it constricting and suffocating itself beyond self-recognition to get inside in the first place, but, obviously, it’s supernatural, how much selfhood do you cede to your family. is it worth it.

it was interesting, if nothing else. let thirteen year old me cook. she had ideas.

[july-19th-club]

i really like george and nick together they're so solid. the thing she needs most in the world is stability (financial and social) and he's just deeply steady and commitment-oriented which gives her the ability to soften up a bit when she knows she has a landing zone that won't fall out from under her. but they also challenge each other, they're fun, their arguments are charming and funny and their chemistry is strong i really really like these two together

[skelekins]

>3<

[nereidprinc3ss]

pillow talk

in which spencer reid chooses a very odd time to reveal an anecdote from his past to fem!reader

18+ (fluff, extremely suggestive) warnings/tags: fingering but nothing graphic whatsoever, it's basically fade to black sex, discussions of spencer's gsw from season 5, medical talk (and inaccuracies), spencer is a sarcastic little shit a/n: found this super random little thing in my drafts and it was done and i think it's silly and cute so i'm posting it! 600 words, short n sweet!

“You got shot in the knee?”

It’s perhaps said too loudly for the setting—tucked into Spencer’s bed in the late hours of the night when up until this point the conversation had been nothing but murmured stories and quiet giggles. And before that, well—before that there hadn’t been much conversation at all. 

Still you can’t find it within yourself to apologize as you sit up, holding the top sheet to your chest and looking down at Spencer incredulously. His eyebrows raise like he’s surprised by your reaction. 

“Thigh, technically. And it was years ago. Come back.”

You huff but allow yourself to be pulled back down, head on his shoulder as his hand finds its place stroking your hip once more. 

“How have you never told me that?”

“You never noticed the multiple incision scars on my leg?”

“What? No! Can I look now?”

“You won’t be able to see them. It’s too dark.”

You angle your head toward him, and he does the same, tilting his down until your noses almost brush. 

“So turn the light on.”

“If I turn the light on I’ll get distracted.”

“Distracted by what?” You ask, realizing what he means and voice quickly fading even as you finish the sentence. He chuckles and kisses your head. 

“I’ll show it to you in the morning. Come here.”

“I am here,” you grumble. He hums, leaning down further to try and kiss you. 

“Closer.”

So you scoot up the mattress and roll onto your side, pressed right against him, to meet him halfway in a sweet kiss. 

“You’re kind of spoiled,” you laugh against his lips as he begins pushing the sheet from your body. 

“You have to be nice to me. I got shot, remember?”

“Right. And how long ago was this, approximately?”

“It was 19 days before my 28th birthday.”

So much for approximations. 

“Aw. You got shot for your 28th birthday?”

It’s his turn to laugh into the kiss as he carefully rolls over you but recovers quickly, assuming a deadpan delivery. 

“Yeah. And it was really bad.”

“Sexy,” you murmur as he kisses down your jaw. “Tell me more.”

“Shots to the leg can be life-threatening if the femoral artery is nicked. Thankfully the bullet missed mine. You’re welcome.”

Your heart skips with a split second of true anxiety, but you snort at his cavalier attitude. 

“Yeah? This is really working for me.”

He lowers his voice to the one he uses in more intimate contexts and you giggle as he explains his gunshot wound to you like it’s dirty talk. 

“The bullet went in through my rectus femoris…” now uninhibited by the sheet, he finds the spot on your thigh and pinches lightly, “and came out clean through my semitendinosis muscle.”

“Clean? No bone fragments?”

“Nope. The doctors said I was extremely lucky it didn’t splinter my femur but it completely destroyed my muscles. I had to do physical therapy for a year and a half and I had a cane for months.”

“That’s kind of hot,” you breathe, losing commitment to the bit as his kisses get lower and his hand creeps higher. 

“Wait until you hear about the mid-surgery aortic clamping and ligature complications. You’ll love this—I was awake the whole time.”

A soft moan slips from between your parted lips and your brows pinch. 

“Spencer—”

“What?” He murmurs. “Me getting shot in the leg isn’t sexy anymore?”

You manage something between a breathy laugh and a mewl as your back arches. 

“I’m gonna kill you.”

He hums against your throat. 

“Good luck. You’d be far from the first to try.”

[hollandsangel]

move over | m. sturniolo

okAY here we go this is my first sturniolo fic please be nice to me i am afraid

ps if you’d like to be tagged in any (possible) future fics comment 🍜

summary: matt needs a bigger bed

wc: 1k

warnings: matt x fem!reader, cursing, nightmares? no description really, just funny and fluffy 🫡 all the triplets are in it but reader is dating matt!

..does anyone remember that one video where matt said chris never sleeps in his own bed? well…

gif by @mattsturnioloarchive !

you feel yourself slipping back into consciousness, and you can tell from the soft, pale blue light of matt’s bedroom that it’s morning. matt’s fast asleep behind you, resting on his stomach with you tucked up into his side, his right arm slung over your waist. you’re already upset that you have to pee, the idea of crawling out of the sleep-warm bed and leaving your boyfriend’s cozy embrace is not an appealing one, but the nagging in your bladder won’t go away.

with a sleepy sigh you stretch your arm out just enough to the tap the screen of your phone, the numbers 8:23 glaring back you. you still don’t have to be up for another hour and a half, which you think is an acceptable amount of time left to lay in matt’s arms and snooze a bit more, even if you don’t really need anymore sleep.

it’s a bit tricky to clamber out of bed without waking the sleeping boy next to you. trying to keep from dragging the duvet with you when you slide out. you tuck matt back in properly before you wander off to his bathroom. softly, you click the door shut, and it, along with your sleep-hazy mind, muffles any sounds coming from outside the bathroom.

for once, chris slept in his own bed, knowing you’d be sleeping over and nick was editing the video meant to go up later this afternoon early into the morning. it’s too early for him to be waking up on his own but something stirs him into wakefulness, his heart beating a little faster than it should be.

matt had woken up for a mere second when you slipped out of bed and hasn’t fallen back into the depth of his sleep, waiting for you to come back. he’s just barley alert enough to hear shuffling from down the hall, getting louder until the person responsible is standing at the crack in the door.

“matt?” chris whispers, peeking into the bedroom.

matt groans and rolls over just until he can see his brother over his shoulder, “what, chris?”

“i had a fucked up dream, dude,” chris says, padding further into the room, “where’s y/n?”

matt turns a little closer to his brother, facing him now, “bathroom,” he mumbles, “what was it about?”

chris is still standing in the middle of the room, phone held loosely in his hand, “you got into a fuckin’ car accident, a really bad one” he admits, feeling a bit foolish and juvenile for running to his brother after a bad dream, “can i sleep in here?”

matt’s face softens and he rubs his eye, “yeah, ‘course.” he says, watching chris slowly walk towards the bed, “that’s her side,” he says though when chris tries to lay where you had been.

chris fakes a scowl and matt makes a face back, sleep still tugging at his mind. the two of them lay back down, back to back, tugging the covers over their shoulders.

you finish washing your hands and shut off the bathroom light. rubbing at your eyes, you make your way back to matt’s room, looking forward to sleeping a bit longer. upon wandering in you’re met with more than one body under the blankets, making you stop in your tracks.

“chris?” you wonder outloud, stopped in the door way.

matt answers before his brother can, “he had a bad dream,” he explains to you, face smushed into the pillow, leaving the words all muffled and extra groggy.

“sure,” you say, as if chris sleeping in matt’s bed doesn’t surprise you (it doesn’t). dragging your feet over to your side of the bed to matt, where he’s taking up a bit too much room. “move over,” you tell him when he peels the blankets back for you. he shuffles back with a little too much effort and you climb back into bed.

once you’re settled matt scoots a little bit closer to you to make more room for the three people now in his queen sized bed, but also because he never passes up an excuse to hold you a little tighter.

you doze in and out, matt’s soft breath against your neck keeping you a little bit dazed but not quite enough to lull you back to sleep fully. it must be nearing 10 am now, more bright sun spilling in from the cracks in the curtains above the bed. you think chris is awake too, hearing breathy little chuckles every now and then. you reach for your phone, deciding on a mindless scroll through instagram.

after a few minutes it sounds like nick has also woken up, his footsteps audible in the bedroom above. you hear him coming down the stairs, and you think he stops in the kitchen until his voice fills the quiet halls.

“chris?” he asks, standing in his brother’s empty bedroom, confused as to why he’s not in bed.

“in here,” chris speaks up, waiting for nick to press the door open.

he does, standing at arms length with a skeptical look on his face, almost afraid of what he might find. “um…hello, what are you doing in here?” nick asks, finally crossing the threshold.

“he had a bad dream,” matt says into your shoulder, startling you. you didn’t know he was awake.

“i had a bad dwream,” chris says in that stupid pouty voice that drives all of you insane, no doubt looking at nick with puppy dog eyes.

“oh…kay,” nick says and you laugh at the suspicion still evident in his tone.

“did you see the tik tok i sent you?” chris is laughing but stops abruptly when matt kicks him in the calf, which makes you giggle into your boyfriend’s arm.

“yeah, but i’m a bit more preoccupied with the absurdity of the three of you in matt’s bed right now,” nick says in his distinct deadpan drawl, which only makes you smile more.

“c’mon nick you might as well join us,” you say, earning a loud, over exaggerated groan from matt, his arms tightening around your waist.

you think nick must oblige because he doesn’t say anything for a second, coming closer to the bed.

“move over, dummy fuck,” he says to chris, who laughs out loud and scoots closer to matt.

“i hate them,” matt whispers in your ear.

tags! @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears

[butchvampireheimerdinger]

can we get butchfemme sevika/reader hcs please :3

GAWD yes. Lord, I've been waiting for this day lessgo

ButchFemme Sevika/Reader Headcanons

⚢ In typical butch fashion, her love language is acts of service

⚢ Loves to be fawned over ! Like “Omfg babe you’re sooo strong helping me put together furniture” and trust she is melting even though her face is expressionless and immoveable

⚢ She likes when you graze your long nails over her skin for back scratches and its all nice and light and tingly

⚢ She’s not much of a prettyboy (prettybutch…?) so she doesn’t really have a skincare routine but you have an extensive regimen so she memorizes all ur million little bougie products and gets you an extra to keep at ur place so you don’t have to eff up your skincare routine in favor of spontaneous sleepovers

⚢ Yeah she’s not too particular about her grooming in general. She lets you cut her hair even if you’re not super experienced with clippers. She still hypes you up even if you nick her ear when doing up her side shave/undercut.

“Oops! Sorry babe I think I got your ear…”

“Didn’t even feel it. You’re doing great baby keep going.”

⚢ On that note, pet names: For Sevika, its baby alll dayyyyyy ! She calls you baby, my girl, my pretty girl, my woman, etc. And as for what you call her, she always loves a “omg babe” moment. And “settle down there, cowboy” but in like a jesting sorta way. Also: “my butch.”

⚢ Stone top/pillow princess anybody?

⚢ Also: she’s ur cash cow. She loves buying you expensive shit and showing you off and showing off the expensive shit. You breathed in the direction of a particularly nice perfume? Surprise! It’s in your bathroom the following day. Like. It’s a theme. Especially in ur pre-relationship courting era. “Baby anything you want I get for you. Say the word I’ll buy for you the moon, the stars, et cetera, no one can provide for you like I can” blah blah blah

⚢ But you can’t be interrupting her card games tho. She’s like a teenage boy on the xbox with those things. Probs something to be worried about tbh.

⚢ And I’ve written this into a fanfic already, but that bitch wears boyshorts. I was thinking boxers for a while but I think that would be too much bulk over them skinny little plants she wears. I am a Sevika boyshorts TRUTHER

⚢ And she works out. Matter of fact, forget the prettybutch comment because Sevika WORKS OUTTT and I think she has resistance bands. Like she goes to an actual gym but around the house you’ll find her repping with those damn resistance bands to relieve stress or just cause she sees them and remembers.

⚢ And she works out to like. Classical music. Cause she’s a classy mothafuckaaa just absolutely getting ripped and her face is in a scary ass sneer but there's like ode to joy in the background

⚢ You pack her lunch. She gets flamed at work cause her paper bag is covered in lil hearts and stickers and kissy lipstick marks and its filled with sugary baked goods like pink sparkly cupcakes and fruity pastries cause u can’t cook. But by gawd u can bake.

⚢ That being said, she’s the cook in the relationship. Especially when it comes to meat. It’s problematic. Sevika’s version of “girl dinner” is straight up protein. Her typical meal is like. A rotisserie chicken + hard boiled eggs. It made you gasp the first time you saw her pull out one of her meal prep tins and it was just that.

⚢ Oh yeah and she meal preps

⚢ Claims she “doesn’t get sick” because her “immune system is just built different.”

⚢ When she does get sick, she refuses to chill out and let herself be sick and she tries to speedrun her way to health by taking too much vitamin C and then working out and cranking the heat to “sweat it out quicker.”

⚢ She knits to relieve stress

⚢ Sleeps topless and in undies. And a wife pleaser tank if its chilly.

[supernatural-bias]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐲 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: billy butcher, hughie campbell, frenchie, mothers milk, kimiko, and soldier boy

↳ warnings: canon type violence and happenstances. hinted to take place during season three at some points.

↳ notes: sorry butcher is in here so much. he's the kind of guy that can't shut the fuck up, so i feel like he's always getting in everyone business no matter what

↳ song: rock me like a hurricane—scorpions

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫

• He has mixed feelings about you

• On one hand, you’re a great team player. Always making sure the job gets done, willing to put yourself on the line for the team, one of the most willing to kill a supe in a snap—second only to him—and always managing to make shit up on the fly whenever something inevitably goes wrong on a mission. Butcher has seen you fend off an entire team of armed Vought men before with nothing but a well timed lie and piece of pipe. That’s not something to scoff at, even if he does anyways

• But on the other hand, he has a feeling that you were just as much as an annoying shit as he acted sometimes

• “Sorry to say this guys—“ You said one night through the food in your mouth as Chinese takeout sat on a dirty table in front of you, curtesy of M.M and his pocketbook, “—but I think I’d betray you all for a fortune cookie. I’d betray my country for a fortune cookie.”

• "You say that like we ain’t already betrayin’ the cunts, sunshine.” Butcher eyed you from across the room as you nicked Frenchies own cookie from him while he was staring off at Kimiko for the tenth time that night

• “Too right, Butch.” You grinned like a shark at your idiotic nickname for him, and he ignored you as you did so; like he always did

• He definitely appreciates your enthusiasm behind his plans. Unlike Hughie or M.M, who despite working in the business of taking down supes seem to be hesitant about doing too much shit, you don’t seem to have a very strong moral code. That’s not necessarily a good thing in anyone’s eyes except for Butcher’s, who knows that he can always count on you to have his back in whatever situation he manages to squeeze himself into

• “Thanks for comin’.” He grunted at you while vomiting into a toilet, green bile spewing from his mouth. Butcher’s eyes burned with the urge to let out a laser beam, and he did so for a moment, splitting the porcelain throne we was leaning over in two

• “Want me to hold your hair back for you, honey?” You didn’t even miss a beat to start making fun of his situation, which made Butcher growl at you even from his current position. Despite your sarcastic demeanor in the moment, and the way he had just scorched an unexpected hole through the shitty bathroom, Butcher knew you’d help, no questions asked. And that’s exactly what you did, grabbing whatever he asked you to as he gave you a run down on the latest solo mission he had been attempting to get by with on his own

• “Jesus, poor Gunpowder huh?” You mused as you crossed your arms and leaned on the sink above him. For a moment Butcher thought you were granting the dead supe a bit of sympathy before he saw the glint in your eyes. “If the last thing I saw before I kicked it was your mug, I’d probably wanna get it over with yeah?”

• “Do me a favor. Go grab the toaster in the other room an’ take a nice bath with it, would ya?”

• “You first, Butcher.”

𝐇𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥

• The two of you are like peas in a pod. Two very weird, very cautious peas in a pod

• Even if Butcher is beside himself with annoyance at having another, as he put it, “soft cunt with a morality complex,” join the team, Hughie couldn’t be happier that someone seems to share his values on supes, on Vought; on the world, really

• In the first season or so, the two of you would probably spend a lot of time in between working with everyone else in the field to come up with a way to take Vought down the right way. Eventually,as we all know, that later falls apart, but it exhilarates Hughie to know that there’s people out there like him that want to try and put in the effort for things like that

• “Yeah, so if we can get one more witness about the Termite incident to come forward and testify—“ You bit your pen between your teeth and nodded as Hughie waved his hands over a stack of papers and talked at a million miles an hour, somehow understanding each and every word.

• “—then we could finally take a supe down legally. And that would make way for a whole round of others; Hughie you’re a genius.” You finished his sentence for him, slapping a hand down on the table with a grin as Hughie smiled. Somewhere in the distance someone snorted wryly, no doubt having heard the entire conversation. You had no doubt it was Butcher, but that didn’t matter to the either of you with how happy you were at the revelation. No matter how temporary it would turn out to be

• Hughie finds himself trusting you quite a bit. He can get attached pretty easily, so he finds himself willing to do anything to back you up—within reason of course. He still has some semblance of sanity left

• Listens to Billy Joel with you! Doesn’t matter if you all are coming back from a mission covered in blood—once it was whale guts—he will stick one earbud in and leave the other out for you as he presses play on a mix. More than once the others have found both of you passed out and snoring as the faint sound of Billy Joel plays through the headphones

• “Think we should wake them up, mon amie?” Frenchie tilts his head as he looks down on the both of you. Hughie chest rises and falls with a softness he couldn’t afford on the regular. You were positioned far away from him to have your back to him, somehow keeping your end of the earbud in as you drooled

• “Nah, let em sleep. God knows they need it.” M.M shook his head with crossed arms, the sight reminding him of better times

• “Oi! Stop ogling at the knackered sods and come help me with this, would ya?”

• “Fuck you, Butcher.” M.M said with a sigh, leaving the room to go and help anyway

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞

• He fucks with you so hard

• I mean, come on, someone that’s as excited about making bombs as he is? Someone that is willing to understand French? To shit talk everyone else to their face—especially Butcher?? He might have to marry you on the spot

• Please learn French. He will literally beg you to start. Conjugates, vocabulary, even a simple ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. Anything at all. Will absolutely not judge you for your horrific accent or pronunciation if you have any

• Bomb lessons on the side, too. If you already know the basics, or are a pro, it’ll be a lot more breezy, but he’s willing to start from scratch. It’ll be nice to have a partner to help him with his creations on the team for once, and even better since he likes you

• The two of you, and Kimiko obviously, are practically joined at the hip. What I said about the shit talking earlier was real, too. All of you use different languages or sign to voice whatever you’re thinking. It’s nice to be able to speak your mind freely, and there’s the added bonus of not having M.M give you that sharp look of his, or Butcher calling you names. Anymore than usual, that is

• “What do you reckon the three of ‘em are always on about?” Butcher took a swig from his drink. He was sitting next to Hughie with a beer on one of their down days as the younger man typed away on a computer. He was watching you Frenchie and Kimiko from across the room as you all signed at each other with giant smiles on your face. Frenchie would speak occasionally, but all that came out was his mother tongue, and your face would pause for a moment as you let your brain process what he was saying. Then all of you would break out into another round of grins, something that Butcher had to deadpan at

• “Probably planning a coup.” Hughie answered Butcher without even looking up from his screen. He knew who he was talking about anyways. It wasn’t hard to guess thanks, to the occasional loud exclamation from Frenchie as you signed something particularly risqué or funny

• Butcher flitted his eyes away in annoyance from you all after he recognized the word ‘cunt’ in the passing conversation, along with a sign that was clearly supposed to represent him

• “I think at this poin’ I’d prefer tha’.” He grumbled into his cup, and all of you laughed

• “Cheer up, Butcher. At least Frenchie isn’t teaching them how to make homemade cherry bombs again.”

• “Shut up.”

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐤

• Finally. Someone other than him can be the voice of reason in the group

• It’s tiring being the one to hold everyone together all of the time. It might help if Butcher wasn’t so much of an ass, or if Hughie didn’t feel the need to derail every plan with thoughts of his own, but M.M knew that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon. So he’d take any help he could get with reigning everyone in

• Definitely bonds with you over your shared habit of wearing band t-shirts to meetups or hideouts. I’d like to imagine that at one point the both of you show up wearing the exact same one, and it goes exactly how one would expect

• “Same shirt.” M.M notices one morning, pointing at your torso with the initials N.W.A written over it. He’s smiling, and so are you as what he’s wearing in turn dawns on you

• “Same shirt!! Hell yeah.”

• Fist bumps. Fist bumps galore, man. The two of you fist bump a lot. To punctuate sentences, drive a point home, agree on stuff—anything. It’s your own way of communicating with each other without having to bat an eye

• It’ll take M.M a while, but eventually he’ll start to really open up about missing his family to you. Beyond just showing you pictures of his daughter at soccer practice, I mean. If he trusts you enough to have his back in a shoot out, then he trusts you with this

• At one point, it goes farther than his (regrettably ex) wife and daughter, and eventually branches out into what he’s willing to tell about his dad and brothers. You feel like you know all of them by the time he’s done, and that only makes the typewriter story hit harder when he finally decides to reveal it

• Let’s just say you were pretty willing to jump Soldier Boy on M.M’s half the first time you were left in a room with them

• “Just one swing I swear—“

• “He will literally beat you into a pulp.” M.M deadpanned, doing his best to avoid looking at the other imposing figure in the room as he clasped two hands on either of your shoulders

• “Listen to your friend, sweetheart. Would hate to have to scrub my hands clean of any of your blood. Getting under the fingernails is always hard.”

• “See what I mean, just one punch that’s all—“

• “No.”

𝐊𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐨

• It’s honestly great for her to be able to hang around someone that feels the same way that she does. Maybe it’s how silent you are that really draws her attention at first, but Kimiko really grows to appreciate you as a member of the team

• Probably gets a lot of joy from having a friend like you. She constantly asks to do things like have you watch movies with her or to do ‘sleepovers,’ which are really just the two of you crashing on the main room couch together

• She never got a chance at a normal childhood or friends, so you and Frenchie are the closest she gets to a peace of mind

• Not even a question about it, she’s making you learn her sign language

• Will stare at you for days on end, saying nothing but everything at the same time until you agree to learn. Once you do, it’s all over. She gets the biggest most happiest look anyone ever seen, and there’s no turning back from that

• “Kimiko, what are you doing. It’s two in the morning.” You groan at her from under the thin covers of your bed, doing your best to ignore her hands as they fly about. It’s the childish equivalent of ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’

• ‘No time to sleep. We have to go over stuff before the mission tomorrow. It will help us communicate.’ She was unnerved by your lack of enthusiasm. If anything it only spurred her on more, shaking your bed and pulling at your covers as you groaned. Even with the progress you had been making with signing over the past few weeks, your knowledge was still a bit shaky, and being half asleep didn’t help, so you only caught a few words. Enough to know what she wanted, however

• “Go away, Kimiko.” You whined. The shaking stopped, and for a moment you thought your request had worked. You were more than happy to fall back into whatever dream you had been having beforehand

• Then you heard the rushing of feet and a large weight slammed onto your legs

• “Goddamnit!—“

• Frenchie found the both of you the next morning; Kimiko looking bright eyed and bushy-tailed while you were practically falling asleep from where you sat. It was a teasing point for you over the next two weeks

• Between you, there’s moments like that where, despite Kimiko’s silence and your habit to keep your thoughts to yourself, nothing ever goes unseen or unsaid. The two of you know each other like the back of your hands, and sometimes you wonder if you’d even need her sign to communicate

𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬: 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲

• If the saying ‘this town ain't big enough for the both of us’ could apply here, it absolutely would

• It’s almost ironic how bad Soldier Boy handles another version of himself. You’ve got just as much snark and anger as him, and it pisses him the hell off. Constantly.

• Maybe it’s because you didn’t fan boy over him as soon as he flashed a few cheesy lines that keeps his disdain for you boiling, or that you didn’t keep your distance when he threatened to eradicate your entire bloodline if you didn’t stop running your mouth at him

• “Need help with that?” He cocks a brow at you one day, watching with poorly hidden annoyance as you struggle to tie a knot in your shoes for the fifth time in a minute. The offer isn’t serious, and even if it was, he has no doubt you wouldn’t hesitate to kick him in the face if he bent down to tie your shoe for you

• “Need help taking my dick down your throat?” You parroted back at him while raising your voice in a false-happy tone. Finally you get the shoestrings to cooperate, completely missing the way Soldier Boy glows in a harsh warning at your attitude

• “Ladies, ladies, you’re both pretty.” Butcher calls from the room over, no doubt tired of the bickering between the two of you that had been nonstop for the past few days. “Let’s get a move on before one of you decides to claw the others bloody eyes out, yeah?”

• The fact that you’re not even a supe just ticks him off more. Only a few people have ever pushed his buttons like this, most of them being supes, and they always ended up being nothing but red paste in the next few minutes

• You make sure to point it out to him several times that you’re just acting like he always does, making sure to don a shit eating grin when he clenches his fist at your comment

• Please for the love of everything that’s holy tone it the fuck down. Some people may say that Soldier Boy has no self-control, but it sure is taking a whole lot of it not to kick you in the crotch as hard as possible

• “The feelings mutual.” You deadpan at him when he eventually shares that fantasy out loud. He knew full well that if you even so much as tried that, you’d end up with a broken ankle and your front pinned to the closest brick wall, but he had no doubts that you would go for it anyway

• Seriously. How has he not murdered you in your sleep yet

[disgustingtwitches]

"Come and see me for once"

Situationship!Simon and how you had a one night stand with him that turned into a friends with benefits thing. It started off nice, clean, uncomplicated. He was in town long enough for you to see him often, which was great because the sex was phenomenal. Then he gets deployed.

Gone for months. Not a word from him. He could've at least cut things off. Whatever. You get a text one afternoon,

"here"

Head to his place. Catch up by getting railed on every flat surface in his apartment. You don't really mind him disappearing every now and then if that means you'll keep getting fucked like this. Kind of wish he told you when he was gonna fuck off again though.

It's like this for a year or two. The same thing over and over again. He'll text you whenever he gets back. A couple weeks of good sex. Then it's radio silence. Eventually, you find another guy to fill in the gaps between his absences.

The next time he's gone for a little longer than usual. You think about him, wonder if you're ever gonna hear from him again.

"come over"

It's 3 in the morning. You're still in the other guy's bed. You text him letting him know.

"i know"

Reading that made your throat dry up a little. What the fuck did he mean "i know" ??? Maybe he was just fucking with you. Whatever. You're at his place and he fucks you a little rougher than usual. You're so busy getting fucked by Simon for the next month, you barely see the other guy. Other guy just thinks that you're caught up with work or something. And just like that, he's gone again.

Other guy sex is good enough to keep him around. Pleasant conversation. You even watch movies with him sometimes. You spend more time with him, he even lets you sleep over. But whenever the wind blows Simon in, you're there.

"where are you"

Don't know why Simon bothers to ask, he knows where you're headed. He starts trying to keep you at his place longer, makes you call out from work sometimes. How hard is it to let you know when he's coming home? So you can take a couple sick days at least. He doesn't seem to care. Poof, gone again.

Other guy can't hold a candle to Simon, as lovely as he tries to be. Maybe you just like assholes. Simon knows he's better, cocky jackass. Still, makes him a little jealous when he thinks of the two of you. Other guy is some computer tech, conveniently lives a block away from you, closer to your age. Simon doesn't even know why he looked him up. Maybe stroke his ego? Maybe something else.

When he's on missions, the few times he does pleasure himself; he thinks of you. Used to think of anyone he fucked before. Not lately though. Thinks about how delicious you smell; skin, hair, cunt. Makes him finish faster.

"sending the car"

You don't even ask why he knows where you are. Jackhammers you into the mattress until your makeup leaves an impression of your face on his sheets. He grabs you water as you catch your breath. Ask why he never comes over to your flat.

"Don't like my place anymore?"

He dodges the question. He knows the answer. He'd obsess. Probably nick one of your thongs so he can wrap it around his cock while he fucks his fist. Find out what perfume you use so he can take a sample with him on missions. He'd never want to leave. You say something about him licking every inch of your body, but not knowing what the inside of your place looks like.

But he does.

[keefechambers]

I wanna be blunt about this ongoing James somerton suicide threat issue but I don't want to connect it to my IRL Twitter to comment on the dogshit takes I'm seeing there or the good and well meaning but maybe too kind takes I'm seeing here.

Obviously, I hope that this is a false alarm cry for help fake threat. Yes, it would reinforce that Somerton is a self-centered egomaniac who can't handle consequences but that's preferable to dead.

But I work in local news and let me tell you something. I've covered half a dozen family annihilating murder suicides and heard hundreds of men making suicide threats over police scanners and a huge swath of these don't happen because they're depressed or because people are mean to them on the Internet. They're punishment. A person with an enormous amount of entitlement towards people around them gets backed into a corner and they punish the people closest to them by killing themselves or threatening to kill themselves.

No one wants to talk about this feature of suicide because...you want to help people who are struggling and guide them away from this path and being blunt about the fact that sometimes people die of suicide as a consequence of their own shittiness towards the world does not really help actively suicidal people. But suicide rates are higher in men not just because they have higher rates of untreated mental illness (a societal issue we must address for the sake of all) but because some people, often men, use suicide (but more often the threat of suicide) as a tool of abuse and control.

I'm not saying somerton is like, an icky abuser bad guy, he's just a run of the mill grifter scumbag, but his actions in the past show a clear pattern of escalating behavior that aligns with this.

Somerton gets called out -> somerton alleges physical threats of violence against himself and his fans rally around him supportively -> Harry calls somerton out in a bigger way -> Somerton says he's hospitalized but there are inconsistencies with the story but no one wants to talk about that because you wanna be nice-ish about a guy who just tried to kill himself and now he's trying to be framed as tragic but it doesn't really stick -> somerton apologizes again but his apology is rightly called out for lies and manipulative framing as well as his continuing attempts to profit off the community he betrayed -> James posts a suicide note publicly putting the onus of his own suicide on the loss of his friend Nick who he repeatedly threw under the bus and now everyone is rallying to say nice-ish shit and wring their hands in concern over poor james -> indefinitely repeat this vicious cycle forever until he actually does die or finally gives up and gets real, intensive therapy and a day job.

Thats not to say anyone's concern is misplaced, it's 100% better for him to be a living scumbag than a dead one. He deserves the chance to grow and learn and have a life outside of youtube.

But you don't have to portray this as the action of a sad depressed man who got bullied off the Internet. It's manipulation, whether he intended to go through with it or not and whether someone intervened or not. Not denying that internet bullying is a thing, I'm sure there were some people who were shitty directly to James but he made the choice to not unplug from this and to try and keep being a public figure rather than taking care of himself. He could have deleted Twitter, blocked anyone who was an asshole, gone to therapy and tried to move on with his life but if he'd deleted his channel he'd have lost monetization... Can't have that, right? So he posts some apology videos so his channel stays active and then complains about how ruinous this is while never trying to take real accountability.

But the reality is that people would have forgotten about him so quickly and maybe his job prospects would've been impacted but...that's on him, and that's for him to figure out but it's not actually life ruining. He chose to continue to engage knowing he'd get backlash and hate and he'd feel worse and worse and things would never get better without the time and space for people to forget.

He made the choice to make a public spectacle of his own alleged suicide. That is the action of someone who wants to put the weight of their suicide on someone else's shoulders and is morally wrong. He can be held to account for that, alive or dead.

[kedsandtubesocks]

Mr. Winter

Santa!Joel Miller x F!Reader

summary: you wrote that letter to Santa as a joke (knowing he obviously wouldn’t answer it) until he does - and he comes with a proposition

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI. no outbreak/modern AU & Joel has both his daughters, marriage of convenience, unspecified age gap (reader’s age is not mentioned but is a drinking aged adult & Joel is older), yearning, fluff with light angst, grumpy but sweetheart!Joel, caregiver!Joel with slight sugar daddy!Joel vibes, brief moments of dealing with toxic family, Joel lifts reader once with his Santa strength, spicy thoughts, heavy making out, fingering, glove & finger sucking, use of “good girl,” Joel’s dirty talk & referring to himself as “old man,” one light ass smack, reader wears lingerie, Santa!kink (?), use of gendered language

word count: 9.1k (I’m sorry)

a/n: yeah… hi lol this is heavily influenced and based off “The Santa Clause” films but you don’t need to know those to read - biggest thank you to my favorite enablers & Santa’s cutest helpers @pedgito & @hauntedhowlett ily…also happy holidays, if you’re reading this I can’t thank you enough & hope a little magic comes your way ♡ divider credit to the ever talented @saradika-graphics

You wrote the dumb letter at the end of the semester class party. You’re thankful everyone decided to write papers instead of having a final, a grad school blessing, which meant class was done by the last week of November. Your professor even had set up the cutest Letters to Santa Station, and your friend begged you to write one with her.

So you did.

And you jokingly asked Santa for one thing - to send you a boyfriend.

Of course you know the big guy isn’t real and wouldn’t ever answer. It’s why you didn’t think much of it.

But now, if there’s any hope Santa could be real, you wonder if maybe he could just grant you one small wish…

You’re happy for your best friend, you truly are. Her wedding reception is beautiful, you just need a moment.

It finally hit you that you’re the last of your friend group not married. And as the cozy colder winter days bring in the couples closer during the slow song, you simply take a moment outside to collect yourself.

The once warmed spiked hot chocolate you’ve been enjoying now sits cold, not so festive.

Someone calls to you, says your name in a thick southern molasses smooth accent you don’t recognize.

Turning to the door, you definitely don’t know who this man is because you would have remembered someone this stunning.

Dressed down in some jeans and a sharp looking blazer, there’s almost a cowboy like air to this man. Rugged, older with lovely streaks of wrinkles and shining grey hair, a gorgeous sharp hawk nose, and dark as the deep earth eyes stare at you - he’s flat out gorgeous.

“Got your letter.” He cryptically announces, and confusion clusters in you.

This handsome stranger lifts up the overly festive candy cane colored envelope, the one you picked at the party a few days ago when you wrote your letter to Santa.

Slightly panicked, now you question who this man is.

The mystery man fidgets, painting him younger. He shifts to put his hands on his hips.

“Alright… there ain’t no easy way to put this, so imma just say it.” He starts. “I got many names… Father Christmas, Ol’ Saint Nick. Shit like that.”

Those dark unearthed eyes stare unflinching at you.

“But you can call me Joel.”

“Wait…What are you saying?” Bewilderment and skepticism bubble in your voice.

He sighs, ancient and tired, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Don’t make me say it.” He grumbles.

“Wait are you saying you’re like, fucking Santa Claus or something?” You can’t even believe it.

His large hand moves away from his face, and the man, Joel, stays silent. The somber stillness makes this feel worse.

A disbelief filled laugh escapes you.

“Yeah okay, nice try.” You lift your drink to him, a slight mock cheers, then take a sip. It’s cold as hell and tastes bitter.

“I know it sounds fucking crazy as shit-”

“The Santa I know wouldn't cuss.” You playfully cut him off deciding to now embrace this joke.

His face grows foul, hard with a frown, not so very Kris Kringle like. With deliberate steps he moves slightly closer to you.

“Two years ago… who d’ya think dropped off that snow globe, huh?” His voice dips low, bordering a deadly seriousness, and you inhale sharp.

Two years ago, you and your mom’s favorite snow globe shattered. It felt silly getting so upset over such a strange object, but you couldn’t find a replacement anywhere.

Then after everyone had opened their gifts and family had left, you spotted a lone gift still tucked away hidden under the tree.

It was the snow globe, new and perfectly wrapped. You know you didn’t get it for your mom and the way she teared up, she didn’t get it for you. None of your other family members knew the significance of it.

“It has to be a Christmas miracle,” your mom had said. You didn’t believe it.

Now you stare a bit horrified and in shock at the man who knows about this.

Silence suffocates the air between you and him.

“Make a reindeer show up.” You blurt out.

The man, Joel, snorts dry and amused.

“Don’t need reindeer. S’a myth.” He replies low.

Your eyes narrow suspicious at him now.

“Can you make it snow?”

“M’not Jack Frost.” He scoffs offended.

“Santa always leaves snow from his boots.” You argue back.

“It’s for the dang effect.” Joel argues back.

“Can’t be Santa then.” You shrug.

He makes a disgruntled sigh of a noise. Glaring hard, he waves his hand out to the wind. Suddenly the wind blows strong, a howling gust rushing against you, so blustery you need to cover your face. When the wind stops you realize you’re lightly covered in snow.

You almost drop your not so hot chocolate.

Joel must sense your shock. He takes your drink from your hand, takes a sip and makes a disgusted face.

“Look… came here for a reason. I think we might be able to help each other out.

He’s here with a proposition.

“I… need a wife.” He declares with a deadpan like energy.

Now you almost laugh again.

“What, did Mrs Claus divorce you?” You joke.

“Never been married.” He frowns.

Oh.

“So why now?” Curiosity peeks up in you fast.

“Legal shit.” His words don’t allow for more prying. “I’ll explain it all later. Just needed to find ya to see if we can get this done.”

“Wait, why me?”

He lifts up that damn letter again, waves it around.

“Y’said you wanted a boyfriend.” He almost sounds bored.

“This isn’t the same.” You squak, indignant.

“Look,” he now returns to that deep somber tone.

“I need this. And you’d be… compensation.” His voice shifts slightly awkwardly.

He mentions your loans, all the debt you have, and how he might be able to help out. Your eyes feel like they’re about to pop out their sockets.

Commotion finally arrives at the door leading back inside.

Joel takes a sip of your drink, then hands it back to you.

“Think it over.” He says low.

The door slides open, and your other friend flings her head out.

“Hey come on! They’re cutting the cake!” She brightly exclaims, but her face scrunches up confused.

“Wait, who were you talking to?” She asks.

Your eyes flicker to the spot where Joel would be.

No one stands next to you. All that’s left is snow and the imprint of boots.

You also notice…your hot chocolate has been warmed.

-

“Santa lives here? In Austin Texas? What happened to the North Pole?” Walking behind him, you sound like a bummed out kid who just found out Santa isn’t real.

“Shit said to throw the FBI off.” Joel Miller replies bluntly, and you don’t know if he’s joking or not.

His house, rustic and cozy, holds a spacious warmth. But it feels vacant, unusually quiet for a man known to bring joy and the personification of Christmas warmth.

“So how does one become Santa?” You ask.

“Long story.” Another curt reply.

“Well, if I’m gonna be your wife shouldn’t I know these things?” Just saying the words aloud didn’t seem real.

You can’t believe you’re doing this.

The new home draws in your full attention trying to soak it all in. So many photos of two girls cover the walls and they grow right before your eyes. Curiously, you ask about them.

“They’re my daughters.” Joel answers simple.

Your eyes go wide.

He had children.

“They’re the reason why we’re here actually.” Joel adds while he moves around his cozy kitchen.

He reveals ‘Santa Claus’ is simply a title for someone to fill. It’s a hefty role. Joel was able to get away without having a spouse with his first daughter, and then again with his second. But now with her about to enter college, Joel was alone.

The stipulation to marry now stood between him and having the title stripped from him.

“Why do you even need to get married?”

“Some shit about needing companionship and other fuckin’ bullshit.” He gruffly explains.

“You could retire.” You offer.

“Don’t wanna.” He roughly replies grabbing papers out of a drawer.

“So your daughters… I’m sure they must’ve been over the moon knowing their dad was Santa.” You try breaking the ice more.

Placing a pen on the table, Joel sighs.

“Look, we don’t gotta do this.” He snaps tight. “This small talk and shit. The sooner we can get this signed and started, the sooner we can get this over with.”

His words sting, becoming sharp barbs that dig in deep.

“Fine.” You grab the pen ready to sign whatever the hell this guy has for you.

A back door opens, and commotion follows. A handsome younger man, with the same dark eyes like Joel that instead sparkle, walks into the kitchen from the garage. Following him are two much older gentleman, one with kind eyes and the other with a glare that could whither a field

“Well now, is this the soon to be Mrs Joel Miller?” The youngest of the bunch says bright and sunny.

Joel introduces you to his brother, Tommy, who is an exact opposite to his sour puss older sibling. Frank, an old family friend, is here to officiate the ceremony. His husband, Bill, would be the other witnesses besides Tommy. Frank and Tommy are thankfully sweet, obviously curious about you.

“Can we get this fuckin’ done with?” Joel snaps.

Now your annoyance triples, and you’re thankful Tommy and Frank chide Joel. Bill snorts amused.

But wanting to leave now too, you’re quick to agree to start the ceremony.

It’s done short and simple in the kitchen - Frank asking you and Joel to take each other as husband and wife. You agree briskly. Joel just nods. There’s not even an exchange of rings, or a kiss to conclude the ceremony.

Joel simply sticks his hand out, a damn handshake becomes your official agreement, your binding wedding vow.

You maybe should have read over the marriage agreement more, could have been smarter and brought a lawyer, even one that might have believed you. But you’re pissed. You simply sign the papers, let Frank go over the documentation, then gather your things.

“Wait, you ain’t gonna stay for lunch?” Joel suddenly questions seeing you get up to leave.

“We got this over with, didn't we, husband? That’s all you wanted right?” Your words are clipped, polite but sharp, that they even sting you.

You apologize to Tommy and Frank for meeting like this. Yet you don’t say another word to your new husband who feels more of a stranger than ever.

-

When you get back to your mom’s place a new sticky note sits on your night stand.

Sorry about today, let me make it up to you.

-J

Underneath is his phone number.

Guess he’s showing off the very classic Santa trick of slipping into houses without anyone noticing he pulled off a breaking and entering.

He answers on the second ring when you call.

“I got Santa’s personal number?” You offer with a gentle treading tone.

“Yeah, yeah.” Joel huffs.

It eases the tension. But hesitation still brews thick, an awkwardness of trying to talk to a stranger who just so happens to be your new husband.

“Uh, shit…Sorry about earlier. Didn’t end up eating lunch. You up for a bite to eat? I'll pay?” His voice is open, letting you decide.

Agreeing, he shows up to your door in record timing.

“Is this traveling fast a Santa thing? How can you travel so fast?” Your curiosity gets the best of you.

Joel simply smirks, not answering, but the silence dances playful now.

He takes you to a cozy barbecue spot on the lake. The Texas winter makes the days crisp, almost stuck between autumn and full blown winter. But in the midday sun, it's rather lovely.

“I’m surprised you’re not busy with everything coming up.” You’re trying stepping into the conversation as eased and natural as possible.

“If I’m tryin’ to scramble to get shit done by now, then I ain’t doing my job right.” He says taking a sip of his beer, and his words ignite a burst of heat in you.

It's attractive… he’s attractive. You can’t deny that.

Lunch is surprisingly casual, relaxed. Joel asks about grad school and about your major, asks about your family. It vaguely feels like a regular first date.

However this is treading the waters between you and him and this strange new circumstance.

This situation has been gnawing at you. Anxiously, you wonder if he judges you for agreeing so quickly, for jumping in because of the money.

“Hey,” it's like he senses your quiet already.

“You still don’t gotta do this. I can head back home right now, rip up those papers and start again.” A sincere tone, gilded in understanding, rings in his voice.

He’s giving you a way out. You shake your head.

You want to see this as something good. So raising your drink up, it’s another cheers to him. This time Joel moves to toast you with his beer.

“I’d call this the strangest wedding reception ever but hey, I’ll take it.” Joel nods. His mountainous shoulders drop seemingly relaxed more.

You laugh, and for the first time, it feels like you’re sitting across a new friend now… who just happens to be your husband.

-

You and Joel start texting. It’s still a bit awkward, and he’s a dry texter which doesn’t help. You get tempted to send him Santa memes, but you’re not sure you can joke with him more.

You check your loans. They’re still there looming like a thick unmovable sludge. So he hasn’t paid it off yet.

Reality and acceptance settles in. This man, the embodiment of Christmas joy, is just that busy even though he said he wasn’t.

At least you helped, or maybe unknowingly sold your soul away and just don’t know it yet. Whatever it is, you slip back into your regular routine and head back to your mom’s.

Pulling up an unknown older red truck sits in front of the house, and you wonder who’s its owner.

Walking inside your mom announces she’s in the kitchen. Tools scattered along the table are a reliving sight. So it’s just the plumber she finally called.

“You didn’t tell me the guy you were seeing is a handy man.” Your mom whispers excitedly.

As if on cue Joel struts out from the bathroom looking something straight from a hallmark movie. The green plaid shirt he wears compliments him beautifully, and it’s hard not to stare at him and his delicious broad ass shoulders.

“Hey.” He greets with a half smirk.

“Was in the neighborhood, wanted to stop by and see if ya wanted to get dinner tonight. Then I remembered you telling me about your mom’s sink.”

You mentioned that during your first lunch with him. How did he remember?

Something soft, swirling with longing, fills your chest, and you try swallowing it back. As thanks, your mom happily suggests Joel joining for dinner here, and panic strikes you fast.

Joel grins bigger seeing you scramble to dissuade him. Of course he agrees.

You never would have guessed Joel ‘prickly as a Christmas cactus’ Miller is a charmer. He even pays for takeout much to your mother’s surprise.

“Didn’t know he was so much…older.” She hesitantly comments when he leaves.

“It’s been nice dating someone more mature.” You half lie. You aren’t ready to tell her the guy is your husband.

Later you text him thanks for fixing the sink and for dinner.

What are husbands for? He replies back.

And you really wish you knew.

-

You’ve wanted to go see the trail of lights, but with your mom working late for the holidays and your friends out of town, you consider making the trip alone.

Until your phone rings.

Joel has now started calling you, simply to chat, ask about how your day is, even just to check up on you. It makes your heart jump.

“Whatcha up to?” His voice rumbles deep and wonderful over the phone.

“Wanted to go to the trail of lights but might skip. No one wants to go.” You sigh.

“I’ll go.” He quickly replies, and your head spins.

If you thought Joel in plaid was a deadly force, him in a thick winter brown coat that highlights his strong frame is an utter sight.

The array of candy colored lights coat the world in a beautiful celestial dream. You’re thankful it’s not busy tonight.

“I’ve always loved Christmas lights.” You admit. It’s one of your favorite parts of being back home.

Surprisingly, he curiously asks about you more, what brought you back home. You of course tell him the truth. Out of state college got too expensive in undergrad, and now going to grad school expenses started piling up.

“So I’m back home.” You simply shrug.

“Ain’t no shame in it.”

You beam at his earnest words.

“Y’know, I haven’t been here in so long.” Joel admits. “Used to come here with the girls all the time when they were little.”

Wanting to embrace this tiny step he’s taking, you ask what they’re like. A soft look, one molten and fatherly, blooms over his face. It suits him, like he was born to be a dad in any lifetime.

Sarah is his eldest, a sweetheart going to school to be a journalist. He had her when was young, way too young, and her mother wasn’t big on wanting to raise a kid at that age.

“So it was just the two of you?” You softly ask.

“Yup, until our Ellie came along.” He nods while another soft grin tugs at his lips.

He tells you Ellie is adopted.

“S’actually a wild story.” Joel begins. “Found her during a run.”

A run, you learn quickly, is when he’s out on Christmas Eve.

“Newborn baby crying on the edge of the fire station. It was freezing as shit that night. Couldn’t just leave her there.” He mutters lost in the memory.

You and him have slowed your walk, now almost glued to each other side by side.

“Was a goddamn miracle.” He adds nodding.

“That’s beautiful, Joel.” You admire, meaning your words.

He goes on telling you Ellie’s already working in her last year of high school, ready to move out, be on her own, ready to start college.

“So I bet when they were kids they were thrilled to know their dad was… who you are.” You state with a warm grin.

Joel barks hollow.

“Couldn’t even threaten them with the naughty list deal. To them I’ll always be dad.” His voice twinkles, it’s like peeling away at the rough exterior to realize Joel is just an extra toasty marshmallow.

He’s still so warm and soft on the inside.

“Can I ask… how did it happen?” You’re worried he’s going to shut you out like he did last time.

But a heavy exhale leaves him. And he tells you…

About a night driving home during the bad snow storm that came many years ago. He stopped to help this man on the side of the road, who he assumed was a mall Santa that had gotten into an accident.

“Instead it was the real fucking deal.”

After that, the previous holder of the title passed away, leaving Joel to take up the mantle.

“Had to say yes,” he says with a shrug. “Even at five years old Sarah was bossin’ me around, telling me I had to…. Haven’t regretted it since.”

Iridescent adoration swallows your body whole begging you to embrace Joel Miller wholly.

“It’s wonderful. It’s brought you so many amazing things,” You can’t even hide your admiration anymore, don’t want to. You don’t want to fight this. You’d be his real fake wife for long as he would let you.

Joel’s face turns to you. His eyes glance straight into your very being, the lights dance among his endless earthen eyes. You want to get lost in the twinkle, already hating how badly you feel drawn to this man.

You try taking in every ounce of Joel here under the cloak of lights. He’s a dream, this fake husband of yours, one that feels like you’re simply allowed to admire but never touch.

Being this close to him, your eyes unfortunately drift to his lips. How bad would it be to kiss this man?

There’s plenty of songs about kissing Santa Claus. Would you simply not be embracing the holiday spirit?

A distant car horn honks and causes you to jump, breaking the hypnotic spell Joel has cast on you. Walking out, sadly heading home, you finally notice something.

It could be the shade of the lights, but the greys in Joel’s beard are starting to appear white.

-

The week before Christmas is a chaotic cluster. So much cleaning and shopping, you want to scream. Joel calls you while you’re braving the mall.

“You sound exhausted, honey.” He says, and the pet name isn’t lost on you.

But it is lost on your rant though. You’re exhausted from trying to find these specific dang muffins your grandmother only refuses to eat while also trying to find a gift for your cousins.

“Gift cards are a lifesaver for a reason.” He comments casually.

“You grant Christmas wishes for a living, and that’s your answer.” You snort.

“I’ve delivered my share of ‘em, so hell yeah they are.”

Even in the mess of the mall’s chaos you laugh. In such a short amount of time, Joel’s presence in your life has solidified steady, unwavering, like he’s always been here. Long chats on drives home, him dropping by with groceries to deliver, it all unfolds so natural. You’re even heading over tonight to have dinner with him and his brother Tommy.

Once you’re back in the car, you notice a new bag sitting in the backseat.

Reacting in you discover not only the damn elusive dinner rolls you’ve been searching for, but a pack of gift cards.

A sticky note sits on top of them.

Don’t hate the gift card

-J

You blame the Yuletide spirit in the air, but your heart soars. It’s like you’ve been swept into a Christmas special. But, you’re waiting for the bad ending to come.

These feelings for Joel have only multiplied, taking root deeper in your heart. The sugared admiration for him now grows fangs becoming a dazed lust. You’ve had dreams of him sweaty and golden above you in bed. You ache to know what he sounds like, to know the feeling of him inside you, to get drunk on his taste.

Heading over to Joel’s you kick away those dangerous thoughts you have for your husband.

A sweet woman answers the door, who introduces herself as Maria, Tommy’s wife.

“Nice to finally meet Joel’s not so secret, secret wife.” She grins. Guess that meant she knew the secret too.

She knows more than you even do as she guides you out back. The shed sitting in the corner of the backyard is unassuming. Yet when you step inside, a full workshop, the size of a Costco, stands glimmering before you.

“It never gets old.” Maria whispers, sensing your stunned awe.

Joel finally steps into view, and you’re taken back. The white among his beard sits stronger. He’s in more comfortable clothes and the gray sweatpants are sinful on him. The sight of his strong arms, his tummy through his tight white shirt, all make you think of biting into his skin -

You yank yourself out of the feral thoughts. Especially when Joel spots you. He blinks, just as stunned as you are.

“Hey, sorry. Got shit tied up here. Y’don’t gotta stay, might not be done until... fuck I don’t even know when.” He sighs, running a hand across his face.

“Can I help?” You blurt out.

Joel blinks at you, almost like he didn’t hear what you said and even squints a bit making him as old as he is.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You ask again.

Joel swallows. “You don’t, fuck...Ya don’t have to.”

You want to and determinedly tell him that.

His eyes widened like you just grew two heads. He recovers swiftly, nodding as he calls Tommy over. The younger Miller brother sees you and winks.

“Come on newbie, let’s getcha set up.”

You, Maria and Tommy are in charge of bulk orders making sure each package has the right amount and ready to be delivered.

“Does he… really have a list?” You ask with a whisper.

“Checks it twice too.” Tommy cheekily replies, and you laugh bubbling with disbelief, but apologize quickly.

“S’all good, trust me it took me a while to realize it’s real. But it’s something damn special once you do.”

You fully agree.

The night is long, but you don’t notice it. You get into a grove and get excited when Maria shows you some of the orders, children getting bikes, someone getting a new pair of shoes. It fills you with something luminous you can’t fully describe.

It’s a reward in itself when you finish a large order and high five Maria and Tommy.

“Well now, we finally get to meet the new Mrs. Joel Miller.” A new voice, smooth but curious, breaks the moment.

Behind you stand a small cluster of older men. You don’t know how, but you just know they’re all previous holders of the title of Father Christmas. It’s only confirmed when Tommy whispers it sharp to you. So these retired men were the ones pestering Joel.

“They usually drop by to do audits, checks and things, didn’t know they would be here this late.” Maria adds low.

“We’ve been wanting to stop by and give our congratulations, but Joel has been so keen on keeping you all to himself.” One of the older gentlemen winks.

You politely smile.

“You’re rather young.” Another man comments.

“Way too pretty for a grouch like Miller.” One, with a thick accent, teases with a grin.

Joel suddenly, as if summoned, comes rushing out from the side and immediately slides in front of you, a protective barrier.

“You’re running a bit behind schedule.” The snarkiest of the men comments to Joel. “Guess the new wife really has been keeping you away.”

Your face scrunches up pissed now, until Joel’s hand moves to hold yours, squeezing it tight.

“He even has you helping, dear?” One of the quieter men asks you, concerned.

“I’m happy to help.” You truthfully answer steady and firm.

You want to be a part of this as much as Joel allows. Not just because you’re his paper wife, but because you care for him.

All of the previous Santas now seem to survey you, practically staring straight into your soul.

“If you gentlemen are done harassing my wife I suggest y’all fuckin’ head home.” Joel barks sharp.

One of them scoffs at this reply.

The main leader of the group glances at you then back to Joel.

“You picked a good one, Joel.” He smiles with a chuckle.

“You take care of this grouch now, pretty lady.” The sweetest of the men beams at you, a twinkle in his eye.

“Get out.” Joel snaps cold, holding your hand tighter than ever.

In a blink, they’re before you, and the next, they’re gone, vanished into the wind.

Your legs feel like they’re about to give out, and you have to lean against Joel who sighs with the same relief.

In the rush, you swear you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. Tommy and Maria greet you proud. You return back to your station, back to helping.

Until you realize it’s past 1 in the morning, and you can barely keep your eyes open.

“Hey, crash here for the night.” Joel appears besides you, steadying your arm.

“I’ll be fine, I can drive home.” You reassure him through an unconvincing yawn.

“No. You don’t need to. S’cold as hell out there, just stay here.” He urges, and you don’t want to fight him.

So you’re given the guest room and a spare change of clothes, which include an oversized UT Longhorns shirt and sweats, both obviously Joel’s.

Sliding his shirt on, your heart races. The exhaustion, you blame it on the exhaustion, when you pull his shirt up to inhale deeply. The smell is soft, comforting, a mixture of his cologne and something purely musk, purely Joel.

You wonder how bad it would be to touch yourself in his guest room. Glancing out the door to see if you’re alone, that’s when you catch a glimpse of Joel down the hall.

Busy looking at his phone, he’s shirtless and a decadent sight. You fully take in his solid build, the look of a man. His sweatpants have slung lower, revealing the thick trail of hair leading down to his cock. The pudge of his belly is beautiful.

He’s beautiful, and you want him more than anything.

The next morning he’s gone, already hard at work. You enjoy breakfast with Maria and Tommy who you already adore even more.

“Don’t be a stranger now, it’s nice to have a new face around. Plus Joel can’t stop talking about you.” Maria’s words almost make you spit out your tea.

Tommy snickers at your reaction.

Driving back to your mom’s, you already miss the chaos of the Miller household. Arriving home, your heart sinks seeing your relatives have arrived early.

“Oh, back from staying over at a guy’s house? Maybe you’ll finally get a boyfriend that stays around long enough.” Even though your Aunt is trying to be teasing, you already wish she could leave.

“I think he’s a keeper. He’s older too.” You mom explains with a slow whisper, and you send her a look.

Everyone unfortunately perks up at that.

“Really? Well, you know what they say, you should always question why a man doesn’t date a woman his age.” Your Aunt, with such a judgmental tone, tries to sound sincere but it slices you deep.

“It’s not like that.” You reply feeling a new sense of dread crawl in you.

“Is it a sugar daddy situation?” Your cousin jokes, and it gets too much.

You laugh bitter, fake, then head back to your room. You wish more than ever to crawl back to Joel’s.

Back in your room, something new sits waiting for you on your nightstand.

A flower, your favorite, in full bloom has a note tied to it.

Thanks for all the help

This time Joel signs his name with a little scribbled heart.

You cherish it more than gold.

-

“I…won’t be available these new few days.” Joel reveals, almost sounds guilty.

It’s the first time you’ve finally gotten the chance to talk with him free from curious family members trying to eavesdrop.

Here in the dead of night, your heart aches for him.

“I know, kinda figured.” You grin.

He chuckles.

Suddenly a selfish thought tugs at you.

The image has been plaguing you more and more. Does dress up in full Santa gear? He has to, right?

“So do you…fully wear the whole thing? The red suit? White hat?” You ask, waiting for the answer.

“…if I say yes, are ya gonna divorce me?” Joel replies gruff.

You laugh but rush to quiet down trying not to wake anyone. But you reassure him there's no need for divorce.

“Just… kinda wish I could see it.” You admit, feeling greedy wanting to witness the sight.

Joel stays quiet.

“Maybe one day.” He mutters.

“Yeah…” maybe one day.

“Stay safe out there.” You tell him when you hear him yawning more. “And get all the rest you can.”

“Yes ma’am.” He drawls, and you melt.

You don’t hear from him after that.

You deal with more annoying family members. Enjoy some delicious cozy food. All while missing Joel.

Waking up Christmas Eve morning, you see an email.

All your loans are paid in full. It wasn’t just your loans, but your mother’s. Completely debt free - both of you. She cries. You even get teary eyed.

One of your uncles makes a dumb joke about it maybe being a mistake.

“It’s a blessing,” your mom says, grateful.

“No, it’s a gift from Santa.” You beam, knowing no one would believe you.

However, a new fear starts morphing in you.

What did this mean for you and Joel? Is the contract completed? Is this over? Was it only to say he had a wife on paper, parade you as proof, then… never speak to him again?

The questions pester and haunt you the entire rest of the day.

Then night creeps in.

“You wanna leave cookies out for Santa?” Your mom jokes seeing you grab a plate.

“Maybe, but I think I might leave out a beer too.” You reply and she laughs.

Once everyone heads to bed and leaves back to their hotels, you sneak into the living room.

Never in your life would you have imagined ever needing to wait up to see Santa. Much less as a full adult.

And it proves to be a true test of endurance. You doze off a few times but quickly snap your eyes open, worried you’ll miss him.

Checking the time, it’s almost midnight. Of all the nights you want to stay up, fighting asleep is harder than ever.

You don’t even realize your eyes have closed until the softest graze of fingers against your cheek wakes you.

Panicked, scrambling awake, you snap your eyes open and whisper Joel’s name.

Finally blinking into focus, there’s no sign of anyone here.

“Y’left out a beer for me?”

Until the softest smoothest thick accent floats out into the quiet of your living room. You left the tv on, and the light of it blends with the glow from the Christmas tree. It bathes Joel in something sublime.

No classic Santa hat sits on his head, but the way his hair is scruffy and flat, he must have been wearing it before.

But the sight of him in the crimson suit, the soft white fur lined edges of the coat, how bulky and strong he looks… You’re reminded of a rugged cowboy Santa.

It all ignites a wildfire, and now you’re wide awake scrambling out of the blankets to get to him.

Not thinking, almost possessed by some ghost of Christmas present, you rush forward and embrace him. His body, sturdy and solid, radiates a warmth that encompasses you.

“What are ya doing up?” He whispers low while you clutch onto him. You need to touch him with your own hands, feel he’s real. You also don’t miss the gloved hands against your hips.

“Had to see you.” You croak out.

You pull back to look at him.

Finally, you take him in. It’s Joel, the same grumpy Joel that’s changed the oil for your car, who has a soft spot for the stray cats in his neighborhood, and is an amazing father - but it all collides with the truth of who he really is.

A watery laugh comes out of you and you hate that immediately you’re blinking away tears.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Joel immediately asks worried, letting his hands move to rest on your arms, a comforting presence.

You reassure him it’s nothing, trying to wave this reaction off.

“You gotta tell me what’s wrong or else Christmas stops and it’ll all be your fault.” His tone is somber, but you sense the tease, a classic Joel joke among his words.

Shaking your head, you wipe away more tears frustrated at your reaction. Then his hand, gloved but striking in size, cradles your face, and he gently strokes your cheek. Joel turns your face to him.

“Talk to me, honey please.”

You don’t know how to express everything that’s in your heart. It all feels too much - the conflict of realizing where you stand with him, the doubt that brews wondering if he even holds the same affection for you.

“I don’t wanna lose you.” You admit weakly.

It’s that you can muster out, all that you can do to sum up the bundle of emotions storming in your heart.

Joel’s eyebrows furrow. His mouth drops a bit. In the low light, the shadows on his face deepen like caverns aging him beautifully.

“M’not going anywhere. You won’t lose me.” He reassures, even squeezing your face soft.

Those endless eyes that normally stare so direct and with such a magnetic force, now flicker away almost boyish and shy.

“I’m the one afraid of losin’ you.” He mutters, like he’s admitting it more to himself.

His words unwrap your heart releasing so many emotions.

“Joel.” You whisper, a bit hesitant, and his gaze draws back to you.

He seems closer now, his coal-like eyes brewing something untouchable. Silence, a soft shift settles, you taking him in, and him doing the same for you.

You don’t know who moves first. But in a blink his lips descend onto yours.

His mustache tickles. His lips hold a hint of something sweet sugary, indulgent, or you wonder if that’s just Joel.

Strong gloved hands clutch onto you holding your tighter against his frame. He tilts your head, allowing him to kiss you deeper, and your mouth willingly opens begging for more of him.

It isn’t lost on you that you’re kissing Santa Claus, like a cheesy holiday song. But it’s the fact that you’re kissing Joel Miller that melts everything away.

Your fingers find his hair, running through his soft gray locks you’ve dreamed about. Joel groans, and you already want more.

With ease, he lifts you up with one arm and you squeak into his mouth. His chuckle vibrates against your lips, ticklish, until he starts to kiss your jaw, nibbling on the path of your skin.

You sigh, closing your eyes and drawing him closer when he places you back on the couch. Your legs curl against his waist, locking him in as you try molding into him, with him, as much as you can.

His lips find yours again, this time there’s a fevered edge to them. His tongue is messy, licking into your mouth desperate. You moan when he sucks on your tongue.

A blazing hunger takes over making your hips grind against him. Feeling his gloved hands slide up your legs, you whine digging into him harder.

Until he suddenly rips himself away, leaving you feeling empty missing his warmth and body against you.

“Shit…Really gotta go, honey. I can’t say.” Joel sighs. His heavy breathing, the tightness of his jaw, this is as hard for him as it is for you.

“Can’t you be a little late?” You softly question rising back up to kiss up his scruffy beard.

He groans when you softly kitten lick at his upper lip.

“Fuckin’ naughty little thing.” Joel growls.

You softly kiss his lips again.

“Guess that means I’m on the naughty list huh?” The joke slips out, and you already want to hide after hearing yourself.

Joel groans, but this time it’s ripe with embarrassment. You hide your face while he snickers.

“That was bad.”

“I know,” you agree mortified.

Even in your embarrassment, Joel presses a kiss to the crown of your head, and every worry melts away.

He stands up, pulling you gently up with him. Gathering you into his arms, this time Joel feels larger than life but also closer than ever, like he’s stitched inside your heart now.

“When will I see you again?” You hate how badly you miss him already.

“Soon, I promise.” He reassures rubbing your back softly, and you nod back.

His hand moves to hold your face again, gently, like you’re a precious treasure.

And you think he might be yours.

Joel kisses you, the softest sweetest press of his lips that melts into your bones. And when you open your eyes, he’s gone.

All that’s left are the faintest hints of snow flurries on your living room floor…

And of course he made sure to take his beer.

-

When Joel said he’d see you soon, you didn’t think it would be the next morning, Christmas morning.

Softly a hand brushes against your face, slowly waking you. You find yourself back in your bedroom. The soft glow of the winter morning spreads a gentle light that covers your room.

Joel is here, kneeling beside your bed, and immediately you turn towards him.

In this light, his greys look softer, thicker in their shade, like beautiful white streams run from his temples. And his beard looks as if snow flurries have been peppered in more. The red velvet of his suit looks brighter. Your fingers run across the fabric, across his shoulders.

You whisper his name, yet a sadness creeps in again.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he nods.

“Are you okay… with us?” It’s a stumbled way to ask, but it’s all you can get out.

Is he okay that you’re much younger than him?

“Yeah, of course.” He nods.

“Actually, Ellie and Sarah were the ones who told me to go for it.” He admits fondly, sleepily.

“They said I needed to be selfish for once, let myself have this…”

His eyes watch you as you sit up to reach him.

“Is that why you were so cold when we first met?” You ask.

Joel nods, sighing.

“Felt awful knowing I was doing this to you, someone so dang young, so fuckin’ beautiful. Hated that you were stuck with a mess of ‘n old man like me.”

“I’d pick you everytime.” The words escape fast. You can’t even stop them.

Instantly he swoops in kissing you with an unchained passion that makes you dizzy.

Immediately you tug at him, begging him to crawl onto the bed. You sigh in bliss when he does, making your mattress creak ever slightly with his glorious solid frame.

His kisses are drenched in a poison intoxicating you.

Clutching onto Joel’s shoulders, you lift your hips when his gloved hands tug at your pj pants.

That’s when you hear the faint laughter of everyone downstairs awake. You freeze. Joel senses your hesitation. That gorgeous nose of his nuzzles against your jaw breathing in the scent of you.

“Y’gonna be a good girl and keep quiet for me?” His thick low voice is all you need because you’re nodding yanking at his shoulders to kiss him again.

This kiss dances along the edge of something fierce and wild, like you’re trying to contain it, hold it back before it spreads and someone hears.

Until Joel’s gloved fingers slip inside your wet heat, and you slap a hand over your mouth to hold back a moan. Feeling his black leather glove inside you has your eyes roll back. Then when you rest your head against the soft fur lining of his coat, it creates such a dizzying sensation you want to get lost in.

“Oh fuck.” He drawls, hoarse.

His fingers pump in and out of you, and the squelch of your wetness sounds downright obscene now. Joel revels in it.

“Letting this ol’ man winter fuck ya while everyone’s down stairs waiting…Y’like that baby?”

You whimper, nodding, clutching onto him harder trying so hard to keep quiet. Then he removes them from your pussy and you whimper at the loss.

Until he draws his gloved fingers, shining and coat in your arousal, up to your lips.

“Can ya clean ‘em off for me?” He mutters.

Without hesitation you pull them into your mouth and suck, letting your tongue wiggle across the leather. You moan tasting this union of you and the leather.

“Shit,” Joel croaks like he got punched in the gut.

Quickly he yanks his hand out from your mouth, rips his gloves off and kisses you feverish.

“Need to feel ya.” He sounds drunk as you feel, even more when his bare fingers thick and warm slip into you again.

He makes you come so fast it knocks you breathless, feeling hot even with the cooler temperature in the room. You whisper begging him to fuck you, to take you here before he heads home -

“Can’t darlin’, but soon I will. I promise.” He reassures you kissing your lips over and over.

“And Santa always keeps his promises, yeah?”

That shouldn’t be so hot, but it is. You greedily kiss him, trying to devour him even more.

“Jesus,” he growls, his accent thicker than ever. “Makin’ it so fuckin’ hard to leave.”

“Then don’t.” You beg.

But then the voices downstairs get louder, and the smell of food warming up floats in.

Joel sighs deflated. You know this is the end for now.

Rubbing his wonderful nose against yours, you lean to press your forehead to his. He breathes out your name, and it sounds like a blessing.

“Merry Christmas, honey.” He whispers softly to you.

A knock comes at your door, and in a panic you drag your blanket up around you.

“You awake yet?” Your mom jokingly asks.

You definitely are now. Of course Joel has vanished.

But something tickles the top of your head. Bundles of mistletoe, twisted among so many lovely ribbons, bloom all along your bed frame.

-

One Christmas Later

“Did I ever show you the shirt Ellie and Sarah sent me last week?” You ask, and Joel, half paying attention, hums.

He pulls his attention away from the Dallas Cowboys game long enough to glance at your phone.

The shirt reads - Mrs Claus but Married to the Grinch

He rolls his eyes, not finding it as amusing as his daughters did.

“Or what about this one.” You show him the next option.

This one, in bright gold lettering, says - Santa’s Sexy Girlfriend

“No.” He flat out pushes the phone away making you laugh and lean against his strong shoulder.

This would be the last night before he heads out on his run. This will also be the first night you get to see him leave, and the first night you’ll get to wait for him now living at his home.

The memories and days that have brought you here are strung up in your heart, luminous multi colored tinsel you never want to take down.

“It’s actually one of the first years we’re ahead of schedule,” Tommy says when you greet him back at the workshop.

“That wife of yours is really something.” Though Tommy talks directly to his brother he makes sure to wink at you.

You’re grateful you got to help out more this year, even enjoyed having Ellie and Sarah around when they came by to visit. But with Ellie now enjoying time with the girl she desperately has a crush on, and Sarah taking the day to spend time with her new boyfriend, it really would just be you and Joel.

A delicious heat crawls in you knowing what you had waiting for him.

But you almost forget about it when you start helping Joel get dressed.

Your throat dries seeing him buckle up his crimson pants, then helping him slide his thick coat on and how broad it accentuates his shoulders…

“You keep lookin’ at me like we’re gonna get behind schedule.” Joel mutters sinful.

“We’re ahead of schedule. We could…mess around for a bit.” You offer light.

“No, being ahead means I can come home earlier.” He very playfully and lightly smacks your ass.

You hate when he’s right.

With a kiss goodbye you send him off returning to the quiet home. You’ll have a day and a half before Joel officially returns. So you spend your time binging multiple movies.

You’re also thankful for the stash of extra cookies you finally found. Joel ‘I ain’t got a sweet tooth’ Miller isn’t so slick with his hiding spots.

The film your best friend recommended is cheesy. But during the scene where the main love interest comes to interrupt the engagement party to announce he loves the bride, cause you to pause.

In theory, you are Joel’s wife. Your mom even jokes that she practically has the most perfect unofficial son in law, if only if she knew the truth. Yet, you don’t have a ring, don’t even use Miller as your last name.

It’s silly, you tell yourself and try not to think about it too much.

So you instead enjoy more cozy snacks and the rare bits of snow Austin is getting this time of year. It’s magical, paints the world like something straight from a Thomas Kinkade dream.

The morning comes when Joel will be home, and you sit waiting on the bed. Don’t even mind you work up early for this.

Earlier confidence surged in you when you slipped into the gorgeous lingerie set. Now it itches on your skin as you sit worried. The bow sitting on your bra might be too much. You almost bought the cute risqué Santa nightgown, but you hesitated.

You didn’t feel like you could truly even joke about being Mrs Claus when you didn't even fully consider yourself Mrs Miller.

“Honey?” Joel announces stepping into the house, and your heart jumps into your throat.

“In here!” You yell back.

Waiting on the bed feels like an eternity passes before Joel opens the door. There’s still snow on his shoulders. His hair is starting to grow out more so it curls around his ears. He’s never looked more gorgeous.

Then his face falls and his eyes become full moons taking in the sight of you before him.

“Oh baby,” he whispers like he can’t believe his eyes.

You grin sleepy.

With eased measured steps Joel walks forward, and you’re reminded of a hunter trying to approach his prey.

He drags his fingers, ungloved, warm and callous from all the hard work he does, up your exposed skin leaving a trial of heat in their wake.

“Can I unwrap my present?” He mutters, allowing his fingers to drift with. Delicate touch across the top of your breast barely kept in by the lace covered bra.

“Yeah, Joel please.” You sigh, closing your eyes when his large hand suddenly grasps, squeezing your breast.

The poor lingerie doesn’t make it out alive.

Now you drift in and out of sleep, naked in his arms. Joel kisses your forehead promising he’ll buy you as many new sets as you want.

“Merry Christmas to both of us.” You dryly joke.

He laughs, but it sounds a bit weak, more like a cough.

“Uh, speaking of Christmas gift… y’want yours now or later when we wake up?”

That makes you bolt up fast from his arms.

“I told you not to get me anything, Miller.” You protest, glaring at him.

Joel rolls his eyes.

“You’re telling me of all people not to get you something?” He scoffs.

“Then I don’t want it.” You stubbornly pout back.

“Alrighty then, I’ll return it tomorrow.” Sleepily he shrugs and turns on his side giving you full sight of his glorious sun kissed bare back. You try not to linger on the scratch marks you left behind.

Now you persistently tell him to give it to you.

“Sounds like what you were saying a few minutes ago.” He teases with a smirk glancing over to you from his shoulder.

Now you roll your eyes.

“Give me the gift Miller, or else.” You shake his shoulder trying to sound somber like Joel himself, but a smile tugs at your lips.

Dramatically, he groans sitting up.

“Making an old man like me get up after the long ass night I had.” He says reaching over to his nightstand.

“Oh please, if I asked you to go another round you would.” You scoff.

“You wanna?” He asks with a curious mutter, and you shove his shoulder again playful.

“Fine, fine.” Joel grumbles.

After reaching under the bed, he returns back with a box…covered in dinosaur wrapping paper.

“Look, it was the only one I had left over here.” He explains seeing your confusion.

“Joel, you work at a magical workshop where there's an endless supply of cute Christmas wrapping paper. Why didn’t you grab some?!” You laugh.

“Didn’t wanna mess up the inventory.” He huffs, grumpy and classically Joel.

“You gonna open it or am I gonna have to hide it again?”

At his words you greedily rip off the paper.

You guess by the size it looked like a shoe box and it is, a familiar box you thought you threw away. Now you’re confused.

Opening it, inside is an even smaller box. This one is classically wrapped in green and red with a shining bow on top.

But when you pick it up, you discover the tiny box is heavy. There’s also a latch at the back begging for you to lift and open.

Inside sits a ring, dancing with a shimmering sparkle.

You already fight back the tears.

Is this what you think it is?

Whipping your face to Joel he seems hesitant, worried, while he keeps his focus on you.

“I know we might’ve done this backwards but…” he reaches for the ring, gingerly pulling it out.

“Wanna make it official now.”

You inhale sharp.

“Honey I’ll get down on one knee if you want, but might take me a while to get back up…” he jokes, but the edge of his voice is watery, shaky, like he’s the one barely holding on.

“But…will you marry me again-”

You don’t even let him finish before you rush to kiss him. The tears come, fast and free like a wave, but they’re beautiful. You embrace it all.

Joel slides the ring in your finger. The weight of the beautiful metal feels wonderful against your skin, but you don’t notice it. Not when you’re swept up in making love to your Joel, your fiancé.

The love bursting through your heart could swallow you whole and you would let it.

“I love you,” he admits against your skin, breathing out like he’s finally found a moment of rest.

“I love you too.” You rub his back soaking in the bliss among the sweat and heat of his body against yours.

It’s just you and your Mr Claus.

“I’m glad Santa granted my wish.” You mutter dreamy, not caring how embarrassing you sound.

That is until Joel lifts his head up, those wonderful eyes of his shine brighter than any northern star.

“Mine too, honey.” He mutters, kissing you tenderly, a sweet promise of more beautiful Christmas days to come.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x Reader

[ Chapter 12 ] || [ Chapter 14 ]

Pairing: Gaz x Reader x Ghost || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.9K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: the start.

Chapter 13: Yes, and?

Once Ghost touched down from the mission, and after being seen in the infirmary for a couple of nicks and gashes, he went, as usual, to Price’s office to debrief. As he walked out, his one thought was that he needed to get out of base and take his phone to be repaired… Or maybe get a new one.

Normally, he wouldn’t care so much, but ever since the two of you started texting constantly after that night together, he couldn’t help but be attached to the little device. Even Soap had made a joke about how addicted to his phone Simon was and how it must all be “thanks to his little date that he refuses to tell me about”.

As he rounded the corner to his hallway, he spotted Gaz leaning on the wall next to the door to Ghost’s quarters.

“Gaz.” Ghost greeted with a nod as he pulled his I.D. card from a pocket in his vest and slid it into the card slot, popping the door open.

“Sir.” Gaz acknowledged as he pulled away from the wall and stood there, arms hanging by his sides, waiting.

Ghost went leaned against the door jamb. “Something you’d like to say?” He asked.

“Yes, sir.” Gaz said with a nod and cleared his throat softly. “Your… friend DMed me on Tinder looking for you.”

Ghost closed his eyes and sighed for a moment before he opened them again and stared at Gaz. “And what did you say?”

“The truth. Your phone broke and either way you had left for a mission so you wouldn’t reply for a while.” He answered.

Ghost nodded. “Thanks for that. Didn’t think I’d leave them worried sick.” He said sincerely and began to turn to duck into his room.

“I also went out with them.” Gaz added right as Ghost crossed the threshold.

That stopped Ghost in his tracks and the bigger man turned to look at Gaz over his shoulder. “You did?” 

“Yeah… Went for lunch… Got curious once I learned you two had a date, sir.” Kyle admitted, lowering his voice out of respect for Ghost’s privacy.

Full of respect, Gaz was. Ghost always appreciated that about the sergeant. Except right now.

“And since when do you have a right to be curious about my life? Is it any of your business?” Ghost asked, though his tone was calm and deadpan, not hostile or angry at all.

“Since I matched with them before anyone else… And you moved in after Captain Price.” Gaz retorted.

“Are you trying to call dibs over them, like Johnny did?” Ghost asked as he took a step to stand over Gaz.

“Maybe?” Gaz replied and shrugged, dipping his head back a bit to look the taller man in the eyes. “I mean…” He trailed off and shrugged. “They’re nice, sweet, kind, caring, funny, easy to talk to…”

“Yes, and?” Ghost retorted. “What are you trying to say, sergeant?” He asked, his voice wavering just a bit.

“I’m just… asking permission, I guess.” Gaz said, his tone the most cordial and reverent he could.

“Permission?” Ghost asked and had his skull not been in the way, Gaz would’ve seen his eyebrow cocking.

“To keep seeing them.” The younger man clarified.

Ghost’s eyes narrowed as he looked Gaz up and down. “You’re asking what exactly? To share them?” He asked as he curled his head a bit to the side, as if to hear him better.

“I guess so.” Kyle replied. “Is that alright?”

Simon’s lip curled in contemplation before he nodded curtly. “I guess I can’t object to that.” He conceded.

“But does it bother you?” Kyle asked in earnest, his brows furrowing a bit in concern.

Ghost shook his head a bit. “I don’t have a claim to them.” He said calmly.

“With all due respect… That’s not what I’m asking, sir.” Kyle insisted.

With a deep breath, Simon took a step into his quarters and gestured the sergeant inside. Then, he shut the door behind them and leaned himself against the wall by the door.

After a deep breath, Ghost shook his head. “Bothers me a little.” He admitted. Gaz nodded in understanding.

Another deep breath later, Ghost continued. “They… make me feel… human.” He explained and turned his head to look away. “Outside of the soldier, outside of the Ghost.” He said in a tone that entailed more than simple friendship.

“There’s no expectations. No one asking me to kill. No one telling me ‘Jump!’ only for me to reply ‘How high?’. It’s just…” He trailed off.

Gaz looked down at his feet and rocked back and forth, a bit awkwardly. It was the first time he and Simon had a conversation as deep as this… Having never quite felt that the Lieutenant let him in or saw him as worthy of something other than small talk and jokes over comms.

“I see.” The younger one said and sighed. “I… I can give up on it, if you wan-”

“Don’t.” Ghost interrupted and looked right at Gaz. Then, he took a deep breath and scratched at his exposed forearm, his gloved fingers dragging along the tattooed skin.

“I’m going to buy a new phone. Or get mine repaired…” He explained. “But… after that I was planning on going to see them… tonight. If they accept.” He said with a sigh.

“Maybe order take out… Game and watch movies…” Ghost said and with the tone of someone who’s making a great effort to speak, he looks at Gaz. “Do you wanna come with?” He asked in earnest.

-

Kyle had already texted you, per Simon’s request, to warn you of their intentions to grab takeout and head over… And you seemed quite giddy. So it didn’t surprise him when you opened the door for them with a smile.

“Hi!” You greeted them, took the bag of takeout food, and ushered them inside, instructing them to take off their shoes. Simon didn’t even need to be told, he already took initiative to do so. 

He had made an effort, Kyle had noticed, and put on a white henley shirt, a leather jacket, and black jeans… but still kept his stupid bloody mask on. Kyle himself was wearing an oversized purple-ish jumper and blue jeans. 

Kyle observed quietly as Simon shrugged off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair in the ‘dining’ area of your sitting room. “You bought a new candle.” He announced as he looked at the small lit flame on the coffee table.

“I did!” You acknowledged as you carefully opened the take-out containers and spread them all around the coffee-table. “Don’t just stay there, Kyle!” You told him, prompting the lad to finally move away from the entryway door, approaching you to sit on the couch.

Him and Ghost sat on opposite sides of the couch, leaving just enough for you to get squished in the middle, sandwiched by them. You each grabbed your food and, at first, it was incredibly awkward. The silence too large to allow for any of you to truly feel comfortable.

You looked back and forth between the two of them, eyes darting as if you were following a tennis game. Above your head, the two men also shot glances at you and one another.

“So… elephant in the room.” You quipped as you carefully bit a Jamaican patty and chewed it. That prompted both the men to look at you. “What’s going on?” You asked them.

“We both enjoyed our time with you.” Simon answered quickly. So quickly, in fact, that it startled Kyle.

“So you both wanted to hangout with me?” You asked as you looked between the two of them.

“We both like you.” Simon continued in his round of honesty. Kyle’s head snapped toward Simon, brown eyes widened. Simon was, however, completely absorbed in his meal.

Kyle was pretty sure he was right when he joked that you had Ghost under some sort of spell. Never had he seen Simon be so open and honest. Direct, sure, Ghost was always directly. But… sincere like this? Never.

“I like you both too.” You replied in earnest as you took another bite of your food.

“Not like that, sweetheart.” Simon replied and finally glanced over at you while dusting off his fingers on a napkin. “I mean we’d both date you if we could.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widened a bit and you blinked away the shock. 

The way Ghost looked at you… That’s when he finally understood what he had meant when he spoke about you. There was a fondness in those usually cold, dead brown eyes… 

Kyle felt like he was intruding. Like it was wrong of him to be weaseling his way in between the two of you out of some childish claim he claimed to have over you… Because the way Simon made him understand how good you were for him.

He sat in a relaxed way, legs sprawled, thigh touching yours, wearing clothes he could’ve sworn Ghost would never even own, and you never once flinched in his presence. Granted, you weren’t aware of all the blood in his hands, in their hands… But you acted as if Ghost was just some bloke you were dating and not.. well… Ghost.

“Kyle?” Simon quipped and it finally rose him out of his thoughts.

“Hm? Sorry?” He asked, noticing he had spaced out.

“I asked if you two were jealous of one another and that’s why you’re so tense.” You repeated yourself. “Simon said he wouldn’t call it ‘jealousy’.”

Kyle and Simon shot each other a glance, as if wordlessly communicating. It was something they were used to doing in the field, but this was a completely different circumstance. 

Sighing, Gaz shifted around in his seat. “I wouldn’t call it jealousy either… But…” He trailed off. “Well, I saw how… how happy you make Simon.” He admitted.

Simon’s eyes, which had momentarily hardened, softened again as Kyle spoke. “And well… you made me… feel it too. It’s… easy to be around you. Easy to spend time laughing with you and always want more.” The younger man continued.

Your own eyes softened too and your cheeks warmed up a bit with his kind words. “So in a way I felt like… well… like I deserved to try to date you too.” He explained. “But it’s tense because, well, neither of us want to share.”

With a chuckle, you leaned back against the couch and covered your mouth with your hand. “Shared? What am I… some video game?” You joked. “Are you going to go to your mum to tattle when the other doesn’t let you have enough time with me?” You teased.

Immediately, all tension was gone, both of them rolling their eyes and scoffing. “Shut it, you.” Simon grumbled, amused.

“Most people would be honored to have two guys want to date them, you know?” Gaz remarked.

“Fuck that, most people would be honored to have me want to date them.” Simon quipped.

“Oh, you get down from your high horse!” You scolded him and nudged him with your arm, which made Simon chuckle.

“After this, we could watch a movie!” You announced as you resumed eating your Jamaican patty. 

“Good idea.” Simon praised you.

“Not another horror movie.” You added.

“You have very bad taste.” He quipped.

Strangely enough, watching you bicker with Simon only made Kyle feel warmer than he already did. He still felt like he was intruding but… the bickering was familiar. He saw that often between Johnny and Simon…

“How can I have bad taste? I literally like you both.” You remarked.

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[pearlzier]

────⠀ ⠀FRESH LOVIN' w/ CHRIS.

NOTES .ᐣ ana writing chris ????? its a literal miracle..... yeah hes been lookin a little too good lately... also ive been thinking of this for weeks now so uhh yeah !

WARNINGS .ᐣ p in v. uhhh dirty talk. afab!reader. no protection 🙀. im not great at writing chris i dont think... better at writin matt but i tried.

IT SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN AS AROUSING AS IT WAS to see you wearing his merch. chris gives you the pieces you like for free anyway, you're his girlfriend—half of the time you help with the designing process anyway. so he's used to seeing you in.. well, his brand. the sight of 'fresh love' written across your chest is nice, he likes it a lot, but he's used to seeing it when you're with him. you'd told him plenty of times that the hoodies and shirts are super comfortable, so you wore them often.

so that is exactly why he was so confused as to why the sight of you modelling his merch made his dick as hard as it did. it wasn't.. that different. was it? he doesn't get it. maybe it's the professionalism of the photos, or just how official it all is. that's his girlfriend wearing his brand. no one else's—just his. a funny feeling fizzes in his abdomen, a warm feeling flooding his chest. both of those things at the instance he sees your pretty body wearing something he created.

his baby wearing his baby—that kind of thing. its corny, sure, but still. it made his head all murky and fuzzy, and his jeans tighten around him so uncomfortably it was impossible to ignore it. being at the photoshoot was a fucking nightmare, let alone seeing the photos all over instagram. people loved the photos, of course they did, you looked really good in them, and yeah, he loved them a lot too. which was why it was agony going on any social to find the exact thing that gives him a raging hard-on.

it was merely a coincidence that you'd walked in wearing merely a fresh love shirt and not much else. he lets out a low groan at the sight of you, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip for a moment with his eyes raking up and down your figure. matt and nick weren't in, the entire reason you were wearing so little, so.. it wouldn't be completely wrong of him to have you bent over the couch due to your little get up, right? he's hoping so, since that's the only thing clouding his brain right now.

"actin' like you're not just as bad as me," he mutters, scoffing in return as you'd done previously. "actin' like your panties ain't soaked."

"you're starin'," he glances up at your words, his blue eyes wide and surprised for a moment before a smirk flits at his plush lips. yeah, of course he's staring. your nipples are hard beneath the cotton of the shirt, poking out a little and drawing his attention directly to them. soon, his eyes drop down to the curve of your ass beneath your underwear. slowly, he slides his hand down to adjust himself over his sweats with a quiet grunt.

"can you blame a guy?" chris murmurs, biting his tongue for a minute before he looks you up and down. "bein' such a fuckin' tease walkin' 'round like that," you scoff at his words, a soft smile playing on your own lips. a tilt of your head, and you're looking him up and down too. he looks good, he always does, but he does look really good. folding your arms beneath your chest, you lean against the kitchen island. "we both know you're soaked, baby." his words are practically a growl.

"you ain't got any proof," you grumble, feeling a surge of heat pool between your legs despite your own words. he wasn't wrong, you know, and he knows that too. all you wanted was to make something to eat, albeit wearing the least amount of clothing possible, but sure.

his smirk widens, "no? do you want me to check?" he knows you're wet, he can see it. from the way your thighs press together and how you're a little stiff whilst wandering around. all tell tale signs that you're just as horny as he is. "you're drippin', baby. don't even try to pretend with me," chris is quiet for a moment, before he pushes up off of the couch slowly. his eyes rake over your frame, and it only makes you feel more flustered in a way.

"don't gotta check 'cause i ain't wet," you mumble immediately, your skin warming up. you're lying through your teeth right now, and chris knows it. he knows you better than literally anyone, even if you don't want to admit it. trying to focus your mind on anything other than well, that, you turn away to open up the fridge and get something to eat. chris is making his way over, eventually standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.

chris chuckles quietly, a low and rich sound. wandering a little closer to you, he stops right behind you with a click of his tongue. you shiver almost immediately when his hand slides over your side, skimming towards the swell of your chest. "liar," he murmurs, letting his nose trail along the skin of your neck lazily as he draws you a little closer to him. "you're always drenched for me, just as much of a mess as i am."

your eyes flutter over to him for a second before you swallow hard, "ain't a liar," you insist, head tilting to the side a little bit at the feel of his head by the crook of your neck. but back to the food, you tried to will yourself, as you bent over to grab a cutting board from a lower drawer. "yeah, can feel you pokin' my thigh with that ragin' hard-on of yours." chris scoffs at that, corners of his lips flitting up at the corners in a lazy smirk.

"s'not exactly a trade secret, is it?" chris mumbles with soft amusement, leaving gentle, warm kisses over the skin of your neck. his hands roaming gently over you doesn't stop him from pulling you back into him. he presses up against you as you're bent over, slowly rocking his hips up against you with a small, strained noise escaping him.

"you feel what you do to me, princess?" was pretty hard not to.

a soft gasp followed by a soft moan escapes you, "chris—" and you grasp at the drawer to keep yourself steady. a shaky breath slips past your lips and you feel it soon hitch in your throat. "don't," in the kitchen? matt and nick could walk in at any moment, you knew, but chris seemed like he didn't care at all, actually.

"don't what, baby?" he coos, taking a breath as he slowly alides his hands down to your hips. at the same time, his own hips grind enticingly into your ass, his aching erection pushing up against you. he needed you so bad. there, in the middle of the kitchen, he shamelessly grinds up against you. "don't what? don't touch you, don't make you feel good, don't love you?"

you let out this pretty moan, folding your arms beneath you to lean up against the counter. "no, no, no—mmh," you wanted him to keep going, you knew he'd make you feel good, he always did. made it his mission, actually. chris grind at your words, head tilting to the side a little bit now. "keep goin', please," well, you don't have to ask him twice, he'd do anything you asked of him.

"mhm.." chris hums quietly, considering whether he should take off the shirt so he can get his hands all over you before he decides not to. the shirt's the appeal, seeing you wearing something he made. fucking you in something he made. "keepin' this on," he adds, letting you know what was going on in his head.

as much as he'd usually keep you waiting, he was far too pent up to do so now. he lets go of your hips momentarily, his free hand moving to his sweats already hanging low on his hips to push them down a little bit to free his cock. a groan escapes him at being exposed, and he shuts his eyes for a minute when he wraps his hand around at the base and gives himself a languid stroke. he could get off right here at the sight of your ass clad in pretty panties pushed up against him like that, but the warmth of your cunt was a safety he couldn't deny.

"probably soaked all the way through these panties of yours, huh?" at the sound you let out, he smiles a little more, his hand slipping inside your panties almost immediately to test his theory. his fingers slowly start to brush against your clit, feeling how slick you are from just his words alone. "told you," you're sopping wet, and he loves it. his head tilts to the side a little, and he applies a little more pressure before gliding his fingers through your slick folds. biting his bottom lip at your sounds, he groans.

"chris, shit," you mewl softly, hips slowly bucking up towards his fingers as he pushed them up against you. he lets his thumb brush against your entrance, gliding over it easily before he glances back over at you. "that's it, let me feel you," for a few long moments, he makes tight circles over your bundle of nerves before his impatience gets the best of him. "feels so good—"

"i know, mmh, gotta feel you, baby," he tells you, tugging down your panties in a swift movement. you gasp quietly at the cold air hitting against your warm folds, and secondly at the feel of his cock pushing against your entrance. he's gentle, always is, his free hand moving to hold you steady at your hip. "you alright?"

you swallow hard, trying to figure out a way to say it without sounding desperate as all hell. "uh, yeah, yeah," you nod, shifting your hips back against him to feel him properly. a laugh escapes chris, and he hums, slowly easing himself inside you with a little buck of his hips. his hand moves to join his other one at your hips and he groans gutterly, eyes squeezing shut. "so fuckin' tight, baby."

"holy shit," you're clenching on him like a damn vice already, a moan escaping you as well in a similar fashion to chris'. he takes his time with it, lifting his hand from your hip to place it on the kitchen counter and grasp at it to keep him steady. he soon enough buries inside you to the hilt, hands roaming over your hips and ass, occasionally squeezing as he looks you up and down.

"such a dirty little thing, aren't you?" slowly, he shifts his hips back so just his throbbing tip is inside you, before he snaps his hips forward again so he's back to where he was moments prior. the sounds you let out practically have him coming right there, but he's got enough restraint to hold on for maybe a few minutes more. "lettin' me fuck you in the kitchen against the counter, knowin' anyone could walk in."

his words barely register to you with how he thrusts in and out of you, practically molding your insides to fit him, taking him so good like you do every damn time. "chris, mmh—! feels so.. ah, shit—!" your tits bounce beneath the fresh love shirt, drawing his eyes there almost immediately. he moves his free hand to cup your chest, thumbs circling over your hardened nipples and pinching momentarily.

"can't even think straight, can you? too busy thinkin' 'bout my cock, mmh.. i know it feels good, baby, feels right," chris keeps up the pace of his thrusts, practically pounding you up against the counter. "feels so, fuckin', good," he punctuates each of his words with a sharp buck of his hips, but making sure that you didn't hurt yourself in any way and holding you up.

"can't.. think straight," you agree breathily, practically panting with every push of his hips and feel of your pussy tightening around him. you shut your eyes, lashes fluttering as you practically squeal around him. "can't think straight, that's right. just focused on makin' a mess on my cock," and making a mess you were, feeling that burst of pleasure as he brought you over the edge.

soon, he got there too, the movements of his hips stuttering as he let out out a low sound, finally coming to a stop once he'd stuffed you full of his cum. "did so good for me," he murmurs. eyes darting up to yours when he managed to coax your eyes open with his hand. "did perfect.."

"yeah?" you ask, voice all airy and breathless. you feel so warm and fuzzy, a bliss washing over you. with a soft sound, you relax against the counter with his help and the feel of him easing out of you. his eyes dart down to his release leaking out of your hole, and he hums quietly, letting his hand trail back down and circle his thumb around the mess he'd made for a moment.

"and i thought you were hungry, baby."

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @dayzeandhaze, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @beetlejenna, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @deansbite, @beridollie, @pr3ttyf4wn, @sincerebabydoll, @pillwebb, @cayleeuhithinknot, @j2ss7, @sweetrelieef, @l3sbiancvnt, @fallbhind, @beausling ִ ꒱

[feeder86]

The Neighbor's Boy

“So, do you want to tell us what the fuck is going on?” laughed Martin as Nick’s new boyfriend headed away to the bathroom.

Nick smirked and sat back in the chair, filling his broad, muscular chest with air and looking around at all the chubby boys’ expressions. “What?” he teased, pretending not to know what they were all so surprised about. “Duncan’s a nice guy.”

“But you don’t date nice guys,” Martin countered. “In order to date nice guys, you need to be a nice guy yourself.”

“Ouch!” Nick chuckled, enjoying his bad boy status with the guys. Despite his kind eyes and pretty face, Nick was never without an ulterior motive. “That hurt!” he lied, looking around and seeing even the guy behind the bar checking him out. “I’ll have you know that lots of people think I’m a very ‘nice’ person!”

“That’s because they don’t know you like we do,” Ben contributed, looking around at all of the other chubs in their circle. “And I bet sweet little Duncan doesn’t even know you’re a feeder, does he?”

Nick raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Of course he doesn’t.”

The chubs all looked at each other disapprovingly, despite the kinky thrill they secretly felt. Each one of them owed a good few pounds of their own blubbery physiques to Nick and his incredible ability to arouse them whilst they ate for him; the best and most skilled feeder they had ever come across. “You’re not going to fatten up him are you?” Martin asked. “Not without him knowing?”

“I’ve already started,” Nick laughed. “I got seven thousand calories in him the other day and he barely even noticed.”

“Nick!” Ben sighed. “That’s not cool!”

“I am what I am!” Nick sniggered unapologetically. “I see a little skinny shit like Duncan and my dick tells me I’ve got to feed him until he’s got some decent tits and a proper double chin on him!”

“Why him, though?” Ian asked. “He seems so sweet and innocent.”

Nick shrugged. “My parents were trying to set me up, saying they were sick of all the ‘mysterious guys’ I seemed to date,” he laughed. “Duncan’s family lived on my parents’ street and he’s just come back from college. I remember him as the little gay kid that used to stare out of the window whenever I was mowing my parents’ lawn shirtless at the end of high school,” he smirked, having been the focus on many sexual fantasies for several years now. “I didn’t have much to do with Duncan back then. He’s a couple of years younger than me. But Duncan’s dad was the fattest guy on our street, so of course I had a crush on him growing up. Now his mom is quite friendly with my mom and they’re trying their best to get us together.” he laughed at the idea. These fat boys knew him best in the whole world. Anyone with a real sense of who Nick really was would keep their handsome sons far away from him. “I thought dating Duncan would be a great opportunity to show my parents that they need to keep their noses out of my love life.”

“So, you’re dating him and secretly fattening him up to teach your parents a lesson about interfering?” Martin asked, exasperated.

“Pretty much,” Nick nodded. “Once they see the boy sprouting a little gut, they’ll soon realise the mistake they’ve made. It won’t take any of them long to work out who was responsible. I am a feeder after all…,” he whispered, spotting Duncan making his way back from the bathroom and sitting back up again. “That sounds incredible!” Nick lamented, as if they had been discussing something completely different the entire time.

“What does?” Duncan asked curiously, assuming that the boys were in the middle of a riveting conversation.

“Martin was just saying about this amazing donut place we need to try out later,” Nick lied. 

“Oh, yeah?” Duncan smiled over at Martin. “Sounds good. I love donuts.”

The boys all looked at each other guiltily, none of them willing to sound the alarm bells to Nick’s new lover; now all equally complicit in the whole wicked business.

“Your friends are so great,” Duncan smiled, getting into the back of the cab whilst holding the large box of donuts Nick had bought him.

“And they really liked you,” Nick smiled, taking the box from him and ripping it open for Duncan to try one. 

“They’re not at all how I imagined,” Duncan replied, nibbling on one without a second thought. “I remember you always hung out with the jock crowd in high school.”

Nick smirked to himself. Clearly Duncan hadn’t even recognised Martin as being one of those high school jocks he used to hang out with; now a full one hundred and sixty pounds fatter than in those days, thanks to him. “I choose my friends based upon how fun they are, rather than how they look,” he lied innocently, already picking up and handling Duncan’s next donut.

“I really like that about you,” Duncan smiled. “You’re so perfect,” he whispered, before the pair kissed gently.

Nick stroked his lover’s hair as the third and fourth donuts mindlessly disappeared down Duncan’s throat during their short journey back to his place. Duncan was the son of a fatty alright. That greed was inside there, waiting to be enabled. “Perhaps…” he teased, closing the lid on the donut box, “you could eat the rest of these off my dick when we get back?”

Duncan nodded keenly. Nick had started introducing food into their foreplay last week and it had gone down well ever since. It was so obvious that Dunan had been fantasising about being with Nick since he was a teenager and first realised he was gay. It was almost pathetically simple to make him climax and he’d slipped into a more submissive role in the bedroom with ease. 

The naive boy kissed his manipulative lover, not even realising that the guy was adding up all his calories and hoping that today could be a new record.

Over the next few weeks, Duncan became a sucker for the romance: the hand holding, Nick sitting him on his knee and holding him prtotectively around the waist. The guy’s friends thought that Nick was the sweetest man on Earth; his mother made up that Duncan had found someone so openly affectionate. It all helped to mask the gradual softening that was happening all over Duncan’s body; the glutes swelling just a little more each time Nick ploughed his dick between them.

“You got your protein shake?” Nick asked as the pair of them headed off to the gym, where Duncan would spend the majority of his time spotting Nick on the weights and lifting the bare minimum himself. Yet, he would still flush down Nick’s bespoke shake, filled with creams, oils and powders for a truly staggering daily calorie overdose.

Duncan nodded. He’d never been in such a thrilling relationship as this; never experienced a kinky fuck in the cubicles after a workout at the gym, nor been lavished with such open affection in any of his previous romances. The love, the pampering, the endless sex acting as the perfect smoke screen for what was actually happening beneath the surface. Duncan simply threw the shake into his gym bag and then followed his lover out without a second thought.

Dating Duncan was having its advantages. Having parents who were quietly very comfortable had always given Nick a fair amount of entitlement. However, despite never going without as he was growing up, his parents had given him a large dose of tough love once he left college. The easy line of credit had been cut off and Nick’s parents had decided he needed to make it on his own in order to learn the true value of things. Now their hard approach seemed to be easing, given how pleased they were to see him dating someone they approved of so much. In the last month alone, they had thrown a whole heap of cash at repairs for the sports car they had bought Nick for his twenty-first, as well as transferring plenty of money to pay for a romantic getaway in the mountains. The purse strings were well and truly opened again.

“Do you think I’ve put on weight?” Dunan asked, rubbing his stomach in the mirror one evening as he got up to get a glass of water.

Nick managed to keep a straight face. The answer was more than obvious from the direction he was looking: doughy glutes, swollen thighs and budding love-handles; Duncan was well and truly morphing into a chub. “Of course,” Nick replied. “Your shoulders look much bigger after all those workouts,” he lied.

“No, not that,” Duncan shot back, studying his stomach and pinching a little. “Do you think I’m getting fat?”

Nick got up and slipped off his underwear. He’d been considering how best to answer this question for some time. “Why don’t I take a look?” he smiled teasingly, letting his hardness press between Duncan’s butt cheeks; its second home. “Mmm, yes!” he moaned. “There’s definitely an improvement back here,” he whispered.

“An improvement?” Duncan asked in surprise.

“Of course!” Nick whispered. “You like getting fucked, right?” 

Duncan nodded; his own dick starting to stiffen as his muscular boyfriend started to slap lubricant between his cheeks.

“Well, guys like me always prefer to fuck a guy with a little more meat back here.” He pressed himself inside and moaned with appreciation and he swayed his hips into action. “Mmm, fuck!” he sighed, watching as Duncan’s arousal grew even as he had just admitted to him that he was indeed starting to get chubby.

“You really like it?” Duncan whispered back just as Nick’s lubricated hand slipped onto his dick at the same time. “You’re not just saying that?”

Nick continued thrusting as if his lust prevented him from doing anything else. “You want me to enjoy fucking you, right? Can’t you feel how extra hard my dick is today?” he breathed into Duncan’s ear.

Duncan moaned in arousal.

“I’m going to finish so fast…” Nick added next, holding his boyfriend’s hardness at the same time and sensing that he had absolute control of the situation. “Keep spreading those big, delicious butt cheeks for me!”

Duncan leaned forward and pressed himself into Nick’s groin, submitting himself more than he knew..

“Well, boys… what do you think?” Nick asked after sending Duncan off to buy some cotton candy as the rest of them meandered around the funfair.

Nick’s chubby friends all looked at each other, then back at Duncan’s enlarged rear as he queued up by the stall. “I can’t believe he hasn’t even noticed yet,” Ben replied.

Nick sighed in frustration. These fatties really didn’t understand anything. “Of course he’s noticed, you idiot!” he growled. “You can’t gain thirty-five pounds and not notice! Not when you’re as skinny as Duncan used to be!”

“Thirty-five pounds?” Martin asked. “Is it really that much?”

“Easily,” Nick chuckled. He could estimate a guy’s weight better than anyone else he had ever met. “And not an ounce of it has been muscle!” he smirked. “Just take a look at those love handles if you don’t believe me.”

“How the fuck are you still getting away with this?” Ian asked, bewildered as he saw Duncan scratching his stomach in the queue for cotton candy.

“Easy,” Nick shrugged. “Bombard a simple boy with pure pleasure, then sit back and watch. It’s really not rocket science. All boys are pigs if you know what you’re doing. And, you know me, I’ve never struggled to put weight on anyone before; as I’m sure your blubbery thighs can attest to,” he winked at Martin.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Adam jumped in. “How much longer until he works out what you’re really up to and dumps you?”

Nick looked over at Duncan in the queue and waved sweetly. “I’d say I’ve got at least another fifty pounds or so before that happens,” he chuckled to the boys. “The greedy little fucker is hardly the brightest I’ve ever come across.”

Without even realising it, the other guys were a great help to increase Duncan’s calories that day. Collectively, they gorged and snacked the entire time as Nick sat back and watched. It was what he loved best about feeding. It wasn’t just about stuffing someone until they nearly puked; it was about the long term training and habit-forming he had programmed into all of them, ensuring that they ate, almost mindlessly, the entire time.

“I’ve got such a boner after watching you eating that hot dog…” Nick whispered to Duncan later that evening, adjusting his pants. “You were practically deep throating it,” he teased.

Duncan grinned. ”Well, you know how good I am at taking something long and thick into my mouth…” he teased back, thinking he knew the game that his lover was playing. He believed he was being playful and seductive, yet he was so far off the mark, it was laughable.

“Here,” Nick smiled, slipping Duncan a note. “Go get yourself another… I want to watch your mouth work and imagine what you’re going to do to me later,” he lied, patting Duncan on his doughy little rear. “Then, when we get home, I’m going to pull out the whipped cream and make you lick it all off me!”

Duncan raised his eyebrows and smiled with excitement. Then, off he went to do as he was told, nursing his own semi at the same time.

It was only in the pictures from that day that Nick really noticed how well Duncan’s double chin was starting to come in. Duncan had never exactly been on a par with him, looks-wise. But with the arrival of the chin and the bloated middle, at last Nick felt like he was dating a real chub once more, sending his arousal into overdrive. He found more and more cunning ways to ensure Duncan continued to overeat and, as the holidays arrived, Duncan had let himself go even more than Nick had ever expected. Suddenly, all those sweatpants Nick had quietly been adding to Duncan’s wardrobe began paying off; the larger shirts and cute underwear that would have been far too big for the guy back when they first got together.

“I’m thinking of asking Duncan to move in with me,” Nick explained to his parents one evening. This wasn’t the sort of life decision he usually made with his parents, but considering how much they were into this relationship, their support was bound to come with a nice big cheque for something or other.

Nick’s mother breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s wonderful news!” she beamed. “I thought you were going to tell us something else then!” she laughed, looking across at Nick’s dad.

“Like what?” Nick asked, curious.

“I thought you were about to tell us that it was all over between you both!” she chuckled, still looking nothing but relieved. “We noticed that Duncan’s put on a few pounds recently and we thought… Uh oh! Nick’s not going to be happy about that.”

“You thought I would finish with Duncan just because he’s gained a few pounds?” Nick asked, realising just how little his parents actually understood him. How many of his chubby boyfriends had they met in the past? “You really think I’m that shallow?” he asked, pretending to feel hurt. That was, until his parents finally offered to consider buying one of the new condos by the river for Nick and Duncan to live in together; so much more convenient than the poky little apartment Nick was in right now.

The chubs were shocked when Nick told them his plans. Adam, in particular, thought he was taking things too far. Sure, Nick had some fun fattening up his boyfriend when they were dating, but moving in with Duncanwould be entirely different. Now he would be able to manipulate everything that Duncan ate all day and all night long. And, from the horny way that Nick spoke about it, it was clear that he was going to take advantage of every opportunity that came his way.

“You really sneak all this stuff into his food?” Adam asked, gazing at the hidden supplies in the cupboard.

“Pretty much,” Nick nodded, smiling as he looked around his new kitchen. “Have you seen these?” he asked, picking up a pair of Ducan’s freshly washed work pants from the laundry basket. “Thirty eight inch waist already!”

“I’m guessing these are his as well?” Martin asked, picking up a jock strap.

“Absolutely!” Nick laughed. “You should see the way they cut into the little pig’s love handles! It never fails to make me explode!”

“Jeez! Look at all this shit!” Ben cried as he opened the refrigerator.

Nick’s face lit up again and his eyes twinkled with devilment as Ben pulled out one fattening product and ingredient after another. “Fat boy is living the dream, right?” he smiled. “And check out this!” he blasted, opening the freezer drawer and extracting a giant tub of ice cream. “Liquid gold, this stuff!” he joked. “The pig can’t resist it and it puts weight on him like nothing else. You wait until you see him. He’s like you, Adam. A similar sort of shape when you started getting fat; a tight, stout little belly. And his face! Oh my goodness! It’s just suddenly started looking chubby as fuck! Do you remember when it happened to you, Martin? Your face and cheeks seemed to just blow up? In less than a week you looked totally different. It’s exactly the same with Duncan right now.”

The chubs all looked at each other. Nick had been there during each one of their initial forays into gaining, and he was the reason why each of them continued to relish putting on more and more weight, even now.

“So this is where the magic happens?” Ian asked, as he was led into Nick and Duncan’s new bedroom.

Nick shook his head and laughed. “The magic happens wherever I want it to happen,” he boasted. “We may have only been here four weeks, but there’s no room or flat surface I haven’t fucked my little piggy on.”

The chubs all pulled a face, pretending to be repulsed by Nick’s crudeness, despite the arousal that they actually felt. Each one of them had been fucked and fed by him during their time. That was, before Duncan came along.

By the time Duncan arrived home from work, there was a wealth of take out on offer in the lounge, with Nick standing up brightly to greet his lover whilst the four chubby guys were draped over the sofas like bloated seals. After hugging him, Nick stood back and allowed the eyes of the chubs to check Duncan out. He could see their eyes wandering to exactly where he wanted: Duncan’s chubby chin, his pot belly and broader butt. How exciting it was to show him off like this! Nick fussed about him, fetching him a plate and a cool beer whilst he settled down with the other boys.

Grazing was one of Duncan’s weaknesses. A large buffet dinner like this always resulted in him eating more than usual. Even as the pizzas and chicken pieces went cool, the boy was still nibbling away as he chatted. He slipped off his tie and supped on the beer until a little opening formed between the buttons on his shirt, a tight bloat starting to take hold of his portly stomach.

“I’m hoping I can pull a few strings and get Duncan a new job with one of my friends,” Nick commented next, as Duncan began complaining about his boss. “He works so hard and just gets more and more responsibilities piled on top of him without any extra pay. It’s not fair.”

“I’ve got my fingers crossed,” Duncan nodded in agreement. “A new job would be so handy right now. As much as I like being able to walk to work, I think I’m ready for a change.”

The chubs all eyed Nick knowingly. Was this yet another cunning way to ensure that Duncan got the least amount of exercise possible? Back in the early days, Nick had manipulated all their lifestyles in a similar fashion, and their waistlines had rapidly paid the price. It burned the question in all their minds: Just how much further could Nick take this gain?

“You’ve been to the gym already?” Duncan asked a couple of weeks later as he groggily rubbed his eyes one Saturday morning.

“Of course I have,” Nick smiled, pumping his bicep. “It was chest day. You know that’s my favorite!” he winked, ripping off his compression shirt and throwing his muscular body down onto the bed with his now easily 240lb boyfriend. He kissed him keenly until he could feel Duncan really getting into it. That was the moment he pulled out. “I’m going to make you some breakfast,” he teased,” reaching his hand onto the boy’s wider rear, “then I’m going to fuck you silly…” he growled.

“Does it have to be in that specific order?” Duncan smiled back, throwing his leg over and spreading his naked butt so temptingly, as if he didn’t understand how, these days, his oversized, wobbly glutes would have put most guys off. Duncan was not the cute little thing he used to be.

Nick growled in lust, sliding his hand onto the boy’s butt and slapped it playfully, watching the fresh blubber ripple. “Breakfast first,” he smiled, resisting temptation, jumping back up energetically to start frying things up for his underexercised lover.

A few weeks later, Nick’s buddy, Martin, had met him in town for lunch. Ever since the pair had dated in high school, the guy had slowly been swelling up fatter and fatter. After understanding their shared attraction to weight gain, Nick had been the one to draw it out of him, with those initial sixty pounds being down to his own hard work and dedication to the cause. It was where Nick had learned his craft as a feeder; utilising the knowledge he had acwuired with the many, many gainers he had fattened up since.

Despite Martin’s athletic beginnings on the football team, there was not a trace of it left any longer. The guy was surprisingly pear shaped and soft all over; with every part of him coated in blubber. Martin had hit three hundred and fifty pounds last year and was still continuing to balloon up with the help of several other feeders Nick had sent his way. As usual, he was wearing clothes that appeared far too tight; his drooping stomach starting to show itself underneath his too-short t-shirt. Nick enjoyed standing back and watching the looks his friend got as they walked around together; his very favourite hobby.

“You know, I almost forgot how much I LOVE a giant fat ass on a guy,” Nick rambled as the pair of them walked to a free bench at the park. “Duncan had almost no ass at all when I asked him out. Then it started getting nice and peachy, and I thought I was so turned on by it; like my dick was never going to be flaccid ever again! But now…” he swooned, turned on just to be saying these things aloud. “...Now it’s properly FAT! Like two doughy mounds of lard! You should see the way it jiggles and moves; how wide it’s getting and how it’s spreading out! Fuck, man!”

“Hence the doughnuts,” Martin chuckled, motioning to the little bag of premium treats Nick had just picked up to take home with him later. “You do realise there are a lot more calories in the regular ones Duncan eats?” he reminded his friend.

Nick shrugged. “Duncan tends to prefer these ones. I know they’re a lot more expensive, but my little fat ass is definitely worth it,” he laughed.

“So it’s finally happened then!” Martin smirked, breathing a sigh of relief as they made it to the bench. “I never got expensive treats like those when we dated. You’re so fucked now, you know that, right?”

Nick turned in surprise. “Fucked?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “Because I spent extra money on donuts?”

“I’ve seen this coming for months. The way you are around Duncan; finishing his sentences and fussing after him. You’ve properly fallen in love, haven’t you? Nick Bowlins: the feeder with a heart of stone, has actually fallen for one of his fatties!”

Nick shook his head. “No. It’s not like that at all!” he shot back, surprisingly offended by the idea. “I know this isn’t a long-term thing. I’ve been secretly fattening him for months waiting until he finally realises and dumps me. I headed into this with realistic expectations.”

“And that’s what makes this all the more tragic,” Martin laughed. “You’ve schemed yourself into a corner. You even pulled all those strings to make sure your friend got him that new job. You’ve played your games and ensured he piles on the weight, but you know he’ll never forgive you once he figures it all out. And when that happens, he’s going to break your little heart.”

“I’m not discussing this,” Nick stated, standing up and checking his watch for the time.

“Ouch! I’ve touched a nerve!” Martin sang with delight. “This is pure karma you realise? Secretly fatten up your boyfriend’s ass and you’re going to end up getting bitten on yours!”

Nick rolled his eyes and started walking off. He hated how jealous Martin was these days, now that they didn’t casually fuck like they used to. Although Nick hadn’t entered into a relationship with Duncan with the intention of staying monogamous, that was exactly what had happened. He just hadn’t wanted to be with anyone else. So, how would he feel when all this was over? Because Martin was right about one thing: this whole relationship was definitely heading for an inevitable conclusion. Maybe Nick would be the one who came off worse.

“You know I love you, right?” Nick asked, cuddling Duncan extra tight as he spooned him in bed the next morning.

Duncan chuckled softly and rubbed Nick’s strong arms that held him so firmly. “I know,” he replied, smiling happily. “I love you too.”

Despite the raging hard-on Nick had, pressed up against Duncan’s soft glutes, he tried his best to resist heading straight to sex and just enjoyed the moment. Who knew how many more mornings like this they had together?

“I’m heading for a shower if you want to join?” Duncan asked, slipping out from under the covers and standing there naked. His blubbery body was so intoxicating. Nick hadn’t been able to resist spoiling him with take-out last night and, as a result, the guy’s nipples finally looked like they were ready to start the eventual droop onto that rounded little gut that was swelling out of him. Was the guy really so oblivious that he didn’t realise how overweight he was getting? Did he really not know that, to the average person, his lardy physique was never going to entice anyone the way he was now trying to entice Nick to follow him into the shower. Bounce, bounce, bounce went those overfilled glutes as he strutted out, confident that Nick would follow; the jiggle of fat in his love handles surprisingly out of sync with the rest of his body. But Nick was so hard; his devious brain having already concocted several ways he could ensure Duncan was gorged on calories all day long. He simply wouldn’t be able to stop himself, even if he tried.

“Wait for me!” he called out, throwing the covers off and following the little piglet into the bathroom.

Many of the strategies Nick had employed to increase Duncan’s weight in the early days were now thoroughly ingrained and trained into him. Nick sat back and watched the naive boy guzzle down his breakfast and then mindlessly wander around the kitchen cupboards for snacks. The boy’s life had been so ridiculously food focused for months now, he initiated his own conversations about where they should go for lunch and talked excitedly about the little bakeries and food places they could stop at along the way. Nick almost wished that he would stop; his dick swelling with blood each and every time Duncan’s well developed greed reared its ugly head in their conversations.

“You’re starting to look like your father!” Duncan’s mother grumbled as they called in one afternoon; her son’s stomach surprisingly rounded and bloated after the sushi lunch he had insisted upon.

Right before Duncan’s dad had taken up with another woman and moved to New York about seven years ago, an eighteen year old Nick had developed the biggest crush on him: the fattest man in their neighborhood. Since then, Duncan’s mother had bitterly sworn off men and neither she, nor Duncan, had had any contact with him since. But the comparison with Duncan’s father now made Nick’s heart race as he took in just how justified it was. Ducan did indeed carry all the weight in the same way; his stomach and butt pushing outwards in completely the opposite directions. 

Duncan rolled his eyes, shielded from all the criticism by the many false and exaggerated compliments Nick had filled his head with for almost eighteen months now. “Did you notice that tiny little portion mom gave me?” he complained as they both got back into the car after staying for dinner. “I think she’s trying to put me on a diet herself!”

The pair of them laughed and waved as they pulled out of the driveway.

“You don’t think I’ve gotten too fat do you?” Duncan asked, clearly second guessing himself after the visit.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” Nick growled, swerving the question and pulling Duncan’s hand onto his erection, as if providing evidence to that effect. He’d planned for them both to stop at his own folks’ place before heading home, but his arousal had got the better of him. He felt an ache in his balls and needed to get his fat boy back as soon as possible.

“Can we order Mexican tonight?” Duncan asked; his greedy mind still hijacked by thoughts of food.

“We’ll get you whatever you want,” Nick smiled back, taking one hand from the wheel to rub his lover’s chubby thigh. Oh, how he loved this boy!

Over the following months, Nick’s usual compliments started sounding more and more ironic. He still lamented about Duncan’s butt, calling it ‘cute’ and ‘pert’ like he always had, despite the monstrous width and shape it had developed. He referred to Duncan as his ‘pretty boy’ even though the chubby cheeks had enveloped many of his old facial features and the double chin had robbed him of a jawline for quite some time. Time and time again, he made note of Duncan’s strength and manly physique, even as the pounds and pounds of blubber encased his upper arms and surged into his nipples, making them bounce as he walked. It was almost amusing that Duncan still believed each and every one of them. Then again, was it a lie when Nick really meant what he said? Big and bloated as it was, Duncan’s butt was still the cutest thing Nick had ever seen. Sure, the boy’s face was round and plump, but did that mean he wasn’t pretty anymore? Definitely not!

“I can’t believe you’re still getting away with this shit!” laughed Adam as they all met up for a meal at a fancy buffet restaurant closer to the holidays. Duncan’s gut had swollen significantly since many of the boys had seen him last summer; all of them gazing at the boy from the table as he greedily trotted around the dishes on offer. “I have to hand it to you. I never thought you would get this far with him.”

Nick nodded and smiled, but didn’t feel the need to comment.

“What is he now?” Ben asked, inspecting Duncan’s broad rear as he turned around. “Two-eighty?”

“No way! That’s a three hundred pounder if ever I’ve seen one!” Ian jumped in, laughing when Duncan’s shirt came untucked as he hungrily reached over to pick up some garlic bread.

Nick nodded once again, silently wishing for Duncan to hurry back to the table and end this speculation. All it would take would be for one of them to say something too loudly and Duncan would overhear. Then the entire house of cards would come crashing down.

The chubs all seemed to notice Nick’s silence and they looked at each other in confusion. Where had that wicked, boastful feeder they all knew so well gone?

“Leave him be, boys,” Martin whispered to the others. He probably knew, just as well as the rest did, that this was likely Nick and Duncan’s last holiday season together. 

The chair squeaked as Duncan sat himself down again. His plate was piled high; the food glistening with grease and butter. He reached for his knife and fork. Since when had his hands become so chubby and full; his fingers swelling like short little sausages.

“Nick wants to take me away on a cruise next year,” Duncan told the boys later on as the conversation progressed. “Somewhere warm so that we can just lie by the pool and enjoy some drinks in the sun.” “How lovely!” Adam grinned. “All those fantastic restaurants to visit throughout the day; all that delicious food…” he smirked, looking over in Nick’s direction. “What a thoughtful boyfriend you have!”

Nick felt more uncomfortable than ever, wriggling in his seat. In truth, he’d drifted away from the boys for just this reason, knowing that these subtle little comments about his feeder intentions were one day going to land in Duncan’s mind. Then, everything would unravel. “I just thought it would be nice,” he replied softly, rubbing his lover’s bulging thigh under the table.

“That’s what everyone always says about you,” Ben agreed sarcastically. “Nick Bowlins: a real ‘nice’ guy!” he winked.

Nick swallowed hard and forcefully steered the conversation in an entirely new direction. He felt so grateful as the evening ended and it was just him and Duncan back in the car, heading back home.

“I think I’ve still got some of that nice ice cream left in the freezer,” Duncan pondered, despite how much he had consumed that evening. “I’ll have it when I get home.”

Once again, Nick’s erection sprang to life, despite the guilt he felt. For the first time, he wished that his brain wasn’t wired the way it was. Why did he have to get off on how greedy and well trained his boyfriend had become to eat everything he provided? Why couldn’t he just be normal, like everyone else? Why did this secret have to loom over them like a dark, angry cloud?

The rain was falling hard as they made it back to the apartment block that evening, both of them running from the parking lot to the front entrance. A large man stood outside, looking drenched and miserable as he tried in vain to get a response on the intercom to one of the apartments upstairs.

“Can I help you?” Nick asked, letting the man come into the main hallway and out of the downpour.

The man lowered his hood and breathed out, rubbing his fat face and beard,soaked from the rain. Nick recognised him immediately and he could tell from the way that Duncan took a step back that he had just had the shock of his life. There, standing before them both was Duncan’s long estranged father.

“Your aunt said it was a nice apartment you have,” the big man beamed as he followed them both upstairs a few minutes later. “I have to say, she was absolutely right! This was all just wasteland when I was last in town.”

Nicked fetched the man a towel and took his jacket off. Although it had been many years since he had seen Duncan’s father, Eddie, he was surprised at how impressively large the man had become in that time, easily close to being five hundred pounds, if not more.

“What do you want?” Duncan asked, sitting himself down on the couch. “Why show up here after all this time? Is Michelle not with you?”

“Michelle’s at home in New York,” Eddie replied, referring to the woman he had left Duncan’s mother to be with. “I always miss you more around the holidays. Now you’ve moved out of your mom’s place, I thought maybe I could finally summon up the courage to come and see you.” The man looked over at his son and smiled. It had been years since he had seen him. Duncan had been nothing more than a scrawny teenager the last time they had been in the same room together. “You look well,” he nodded. “I always thought you’d end up looking more like me than your mother,” he smiled, patting his own large belly.

An awkward silence fell upon the room. After over seven years of estrangement, was Duncan’s dad really calling him fat within the first five minutes? Tact was clearly not his specialty.

“Your aunt tells me you two have been together for over two years now?” he asked next. “You must be very happy.”

Again, the silence was deafening. Nick began to feel sorry for the man as Duncan’s hostility endured.

“Why did you have to move to New York?” Duncan finally asked; blocking whatever path his father was trying to steer the conversation.

Eddie nodded his head, accepting that the question was a good one. “Because I fell in love,” he answered. “Michelle and I… we’re just made for each other. Sure, it’s not a conventional pairing… A bit like you two,” he pointed at them both, appearing to be gesturing towards their two contrasting bodies. “But we’re very happy together.”

The cogs in Nick’s brain began to turn. 

“Your mom was always getting at me for my weight,” Eddie went on. “We were never happy. That was all just an act for your sake. But I think you knew that, didn’t you?” he smiled sweetly at Duncan. “I tried to explain to your mom that this is who I am,” he nodded, grabbing a handful of the fat that encircled his waist. “But she wouldn’t have it. She made my life hell. Then I met Michelle online and… well, as you know. Everything changed.”

Nick had a thousand questions burning in his head. He fought back the urge to jump in and ask them all at once, merely rubbing Duncan’s back supportively from behind the couch.

“Your mom threatened to tell you everything unless I stayed away. She’d hired a private investigator and had endless messages, pictures and transcripts between me and Michelle. I didn’t want you to see any of that. Your mom made it clear that she thought the things Michelle and I were into were just perverted. She didn’t understand the eating and the weight gain and how intrinsic it all is to my happiness.”

Nick tried not to react. Was Duncan’s father really coming out as a… a gainer?

“I thought, maybe now that you’re in your own similar relationship, that you might understand,” Eddie finished, looking at them both.

Nick’s eyes bulged and he stood up straighter; his heart pounding. He’d imagined many scenarios where he would be outed as a feeder, but being called out by Duncan’s absentee father had not been one of them. “I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he mumbled shakily.

Eddie chuckled. “Oh, come on… it’s obvious!” he motioned again at their extreme size difference. “Duncan’s aunt told me all about you two. You’re the one who fattened up Pete and Shirley’s boy, Martin, back when you were in high school together,” Eddie stated directly to Nick. “I heard he’s a real porker these days! ‘As fat as butter’ my sister said!”

Duncan turned his head to look at Nick, standing behind him, his eyebrows lowered in confusion. Nick was utterly speechless.

“Now, I’m not sure there are many fathers who would approve of their son dating a feeder,” Eddie nodded. “But, in this case, I’ve got to say… I know you two will be really happy together.”

Duncan and Nick both looked across at Eddie. The man was still blissfully unaware of the wrecking ball he had just taken to their relationship.

“I’m staying at the Palace Hotel,” Eddie stated as he grunted and got up from his seat. “Perhaps we could all meet up for some lunch tomorrow?”

Again, silence was the only response. He pulled out a contact card and dropped it on the coffee table.

“It really is good to see you again,” he smiled at Duncan as Nick followed him to the door and closed it behind him.

“Duncan…” Nick began, the moment they were alone again. “That was… I’m not sure your dad has all the facts about… I’m not really…” he mumbled, starting and restarting his sentences again and again. “Are you alright?” he finally offered sweetly.

Duncan inhaled and seemed to pull himself out of his stunned silence. “Well, I guess everything makes a lot more sense now,” he nodded pragmatically. “With dad… With you.”

Nick’s heart was racing. He thought of several things he could say in response, all of them lies and excuses. No. The game was up.

“So I guess that’s the reason why I’m like this,” Duncan sighed, raising his arms up to his chest and looking down at his fattened body, as if for the first time. “I just thought I was going mad. Two hundred and ninety six pounds. That’s what I was when I weighed myself the other day. Can you believe that?”

“I never meant for things to go this far,” Nick replied honestly.

“Nor did I,” Duncan agreed, rubbing his stout belly sadly.

“You don’t have to be this way,” Nick shot back. “We can put you on a diet. I’d love you however you looked. Just give me a chance and let me prove it!”

“I think it’s too late for that, don’t you?” Duncan grumbled, still holding his enlarged stomach. “My dad’s right. I’ve always been more like him than my mom.”

“How do you mean?” Nick asked, wondering just how long it would be until Duncan kicked him out. Where the hell was he going to sleep tonight?

“I love food. I love eating. I love this…” he emphasised, leaning a little forwards and grabbing his gut with both hands, shaking it. “I just didn’t understand why.”

Nick’s heart skipped a beat. “You seriously don’t mind?” he asked in astonishment.

“I thought you were so sweet for not nagging me about my weight when I first started getting chubby. But I guess I understand now. It all makes sense.”

Nick cringed. He felt that things still rested on a knife edge. He didn’t want to open his mouth and say the wrong thing; simultaneously destroying everything. 

“So, this is your thing, huh?” Duncan asked, lifting his shirt and patting the large belly he had developed over the last two years. “I suppose I always was a prime target for a feeder, knowing how large my dad is. I guess weight gain is just in the genes. You must have known that.”

“That wasn’t why I started dating you,” Nick replied quickly. “And your weight isn’t the reason why I fell in love with you either.”

“Well, you’re a better man than me then,” Duncan chuckled. “Because the way you used to cook and overfeed me definitely played a part in the reason why I fell for you so badly!”

The pair looked at each other with very small smiles threatening to invade from the furthest corners of their mouths.

“I guess we’re both just a couple of freaks,” Duncan finally laughed. He patted the space next to him on the couch and Nick finally came to sit next to him. The most honest conversation of their lives was about to begin.

“Surprise!” shouted the crowds of people as Duncan and Nick walked into the restaurant a few months later. Everyone was there: the chubs, the two families, Duncan’s father and Michelle; all stood underneath a banner congratulating them on their engagement. The pair of them laughed, pretending that they hadn’t already worked out what was happening, strolling in to greet them all.

“So you’re finally going to make an honest fatty out of this one?” Martin joked quietly as he came up to the pair of them later that evening.

Nick nodded, his hand resting sweetly on Duncan’s large butt as the boy stood, eating his third plateful from the buffet. He rubbed and patted gently, knowing that Duncan always ate better when his size was being admired. The boy had been fattening faster than ever since the pair of them had been open and honest about things. With such an enormous double chin, Duncan even looked larger than Martin himself.

“How was the cruise?” Martin askes next, not having seen the pair of them since they made it home, freshly engaged last weekend.

Duncan and Nick giggled to each other, remembering all the kinky things they had got up to together. “It was very good, thanks,” Nick finally replied, rubbing Duncan’s giant stomach as if to show that the pair of them had stuffed Duncan’s gut for the entire two weeks. They’d even had to buy a new shirt especially for the party that evening.

“Yeah, it was great,” Duncan mumbled through a mouthful of food. “Now we’re just looking forward to the wedding.”

A surge of excitement spread through Nick as he thought about the wedding. His large hand couldn’t resist squeezing Duncan’s blubbery glute as he pictured how much fatter his fiance would be by then.

“Well, it’s unconventional, but it clearly works for you two,” Martin smiled, looking on at his very good friends who clearly only had eyes for each other. Sure, the world had lost one of its most devilish and enterprising feeders, but look at how happy he was with his fat boy. Look at how happy they both were! 

The whispers behind their backs could continue, the justified comparisons between Nick and Eddie’s feeder wife could go on and on. Duncan’s mother could regret the day she’d ever agreed to let her friend coax her into setting up Duncan with her son. But none of them could deny that this was something very special indeed. The glasses were raised, the toasts were made and the sentiment was real. A long and happy marriage was wished upon them both. Nick and Duncan, forever more.

[warping-realities]

Parental Pressure 

Eddie watched the personal trainer's video for the thousandth time as he was getting closer to the little gym for his first class. He had snuck out of his house super early and quietly because he knew Nick, his old man, wouldn’t approve of his son wasting time on this kinda stuff. He became a single father really young, back in high school, and now, at 35, he did everything he could to make sure his kid didn’t follow the same path. Becoming a doctor was Nicholas Rousseau’s biggest dream, but early fatherhood messed up his chance to hit the books at college. Not that he blamed Eddie for it; on the contrary, they usually had a solid relationship, except when Eddie strayed from the plans his dad laid out for his future. If Nick couldn’t get into med school, Eddie sure as hell would, whether he liked it or not. And now, with less than a month before college kicked off, Eddie was having doubts about the path laid out for him. So, in a rebellious move, after getting an invite to check out Rocco “Rocky” Mancini's gym, an Italian bodybuilder who moved to the States, now retired and not exactly a big name in the game, who a few years back started hustling as a personal trainer and, according to the promo video on Eddie's Instagram, was looking for young men to boost his portfolio. It looked like that gig wasn’t going great either. The first person to sign up would get a month of free daily training. Perfect for Eddie; after all, a month of training with an expert before college would make things way easier when he had to hit the gym away from his overprotective dad’s watchful eye. Surprisingly he was the first one to sign up! And so, the young  skinny man, with light brown hair found himself stepping into the dimly lit gym at 6 AM.

As he stood frozen at the door, anxiety washing over him, a monstrous figure approached, strutting with swagger, muscles bulging looking like they might burst from the thin layer of skin wrapping them. With a fuller beard and looking at least five years older than in the video Eddie had seen over and over, the guy oozed confidence and a certain arrogance. But those weren’t the only things he was giving off, as it became clear to Eddie when the dude came up to him with a sweaty hand extended to shake, a distinct animal musk dominating his senses.

“You must be Eddie! Nice to meet ya, kid; I’m Rocco, but you can call me Rocky—everyone does. Welcome to my little temple. So, you ever trained before?”

“Ahn, no... I wanted to, but my dad... no, I’ve never trained.”

“Feeling a little bit of Daddy Issues here? Just kidding, son! Where’s your workout gear?”

“I thought, since it’s the first day... I... didn’t bring any...”

“Damn, son, you weren’t kidding when you said you’ve never trained; you don’t have a clue! But don’t sweat it, we’ll fix that! You can wear the shirt; I’ll get you some shorts.”

“I... don’t wanna be a bother.”

“Son, you came here to train, and train is what you’re gonna do. I don’t know what your pops taught you but it looks like you got a lot to learn from me. First thing, you gotta be more assertive—don’t be scared to say what you think or do what you like.”

Hearing that, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the fear and anxiety that had been eating at him for weeks seemed to fade away. He wanted to be there, and nobody was gonna take that away from him, not even his old man.

After hitting the locker room and putting on the shorts Rocco lent him, which were way too big in the legs but surprisingly just right in the waist, Eddie went back to the main room where the personal trainer was waiting for him.

“We gotta fill those shorts, son!”

“That’s why I’m here, Mr. Mancini.”

“Hell yeah! That’s the spirit but none of this Mr. Mancini nonsense; you either call me Rocky or coach.”

“Yes, sir, coach!”

“That’s right! Now, back to our chat, you said you’ve been training for a while, but how long is a while, son?”

That info was totally wrong; he’d never trained, right? But why did he have fuzzy memories of sneaking out to hit the school gym before class during his senior year? If he hadn’t trained, where did those small but tight muscles come from?

“I’ve been training for almost a year, coach, but I don’t think I’ve seen much result.”

“Two more things to teach you, son: first, we’re never happy with the size we are, and second, even so, you’re never gonna downplay your achievements; you’ve done something that most people can’t even pull off. Be proud of that.”

“I... I’m proud, yeah!” he replied, realizing the coach was speaking the truth. He had a lot of pride in what he accomplished, even though he knew he was still far from where he wanted to be.

“Awesome! Now you’re talking like a real champ. But enough chit-chat, let’s see what you’re made of.” Rocco said before putting Eddie through the most grueling workout he’d ever experienced. His self-taught training hadn’t prepared him for this level of exhaustion. After half an hour of intense agony, they took a break, and Eddie tried to recover before what he knew would be another half hour of torture as Rocco praised him.

“Damn, son, all that fuss you had with your pops to come train with me in your junior year was worth it. You’re huge; another minute and that shirt ain’t gonna hold!”

Still exhausted from the workout, Eddie took a moment to wrap his head around what the trainer had said. A fight with his dad...? And training here for at least three years...? No... it didn’t make sense... but then he saw his own reflection in the gym mirror, and he was... fucking swole! And that... that wasn’t just possible; it was thanks to the time he’d spent caring for his body all this while, even with his dad breathing down his neck.

“Thanks, Coach, but I’m still not anywhere near where I wanna be!”

“Well, if you get closer, this shirt definitely isn’t gonna hold. I’ll grab you one of mine, or you can train shirtless until the other clients show up, son. In the meantime, figure out how to get that thing off, but I doubt it’s coming off without tearing. Maybe you should film a video for your social media; I bet your followers will go wild!”

“Haha, I don’t think that they will care, and I feel kinda uncomfortable putting myself out there. So I’ll take the shirt.” Eddie replied as the coach returned with an enormous shirt in hand and offered it to him.

“Son, there’s no reason to be shy about showing off; you sculpted that body for a reason. Don’t tell me that’s another one of your dad’s ideas? You never cared much about what he thinks, and I’ve known you since you were a little brat, fourteen years old, showing up on opening day to get an autograph!”

Once again, Eddie felt something shift inside him; the cordial relationship he had with his overly protective dad was turning into a conflictual one, with both of them constantly arguing about the expectations they had for Eddie’s future, which drove him to practically live at Rocco’s gym, where he helped with maintenance or took care of the place to keep training without having to pay.

“You’re right, as always, Rocky; it’s just that, I dunno... I think this crowd that needs to post everything they do is kinda empty and vain.”

“Son if you don’t show off your gains, you won’t grow your followers, and so what if it seems kinda empty? What matters is being seen. And nobody builds a body like yours without a bit of vanity. I’ll let you keep training; I’ve got a client in twenty minutes. If you need me for anything, just holler.”

“Rocky, I can train better than a lot of pro bodybuilders, man! You know that!”

“Son there’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance! You can strut around all you want with your followers, but don’t come at me with that!” Rocky shot back, though he couldn’t hide a smile of approval.

As the trainer moved away to organize things for his client, Eddie focused on finishing his remaining exercises. Kicking off his sneakers and heading to the squat rack barefoot, he stacked plate after plate until he formed a sizable pile that would surprise anyone. But the truth was, despite the insane weight, it was relatively easy for Eddie. Next, he hit the leg press and finished with deadlifts using a bar that weighed more than a baby rhino. When he sat down to do his last exercise of the day, calves, a distinct funk emanated from his armpits, but mainly from his giant size 14 bare feet. Looking at himself and feeling pumped, he couldn’t resist pulling out his phone to shoot a TikTok video. He was in the middle of recording when Rocky interrupted him.

“Damn, kid, you reek! No offense, we all have a little man funk; I know how it is, but clients are gonna start showing up, so take a shower and let’s get to work.”

“Damn, coach, sometimes you’re worse than my dad.” The kid replied, stopping the recording.

“I am your father, boy!” The older man shot back with a sinister grin and a predatory look at the younger man before continuing. “And if you really wanna please your fans, be a show-off; don’t hide your assets, son; show off that chest and those abs, but hurry up, ‘cause this place is gonna be packed soon. We’re not the biggest gym in town by luck, Wardo. This young stud pose might please your fans, but the morning ladies prefer when you play the part of the innocent bambino.”

This time, the wave of strangeness hit Eddie so hard that he felt dizzy and nauseous, exacerbated by the potent funk he was putting off. And for the first time since he stepped foot in that gym, he fully realized what was going down as he automatically took off his shirt and walked toward one of the gym mirrors, a gym which seemed to expand with every step he took, turning from a small studio into a gigantic complex. As his skin took on an olive tone and his dark brown hair curled into perfect black curls, while his nose turned aquiline like a Roman emperor from antiquity, Eddie struggled within his own mind while Edoardo Mancini took control. If someone could hear the debate between the two, it would sound something like:

“Dude, I am... no, we are what you’ve always wanted to be! Pops gave you this chance; why not embrace it?”

“’Cause I... I’m going to med school...”

“You never wanted that; we never wanted that; that was Nicholas’s thing, not ours. This is our chance to be whoever we wanna be!”

“No... we are what Rocco made us; we’re just trading one controlling dad for another!”

“Not even close, dude! We chose this path; he didn’t pressure us! We followed him out of admiration, and that boosted both his success and ours; we’re legends in the fitness world!”

“Rocco was a mediocre pro... he’s using us for leverage!”

“And what’s wrong with that? We’re getting something out of it too! And how is that different from Nicholas pressuring you?”

“I... I... don’t know...”

“Dude, if you didn’t want this, I wouldn’t be here. Chill and enjoy; besides, Pops already got what he wanted from us. He’s not gonna pressure us to follow in his footsteps. We can be whatever we want: bodybuilders like him, or fitness models, or even kickstart an acting career; and I’m not even talking about porn, even though this big guy between our legs would be a hit. Just accept it.” Wardo said, stroking the giant cock in his mind and in real life.

“I... I... damn... this feels so... fucking... good!”

“Wardo! Wrap it up, kid, and stop playing with that thing; we got a new client coming.” Rocco scolded his son.

“Damn, Pops, another ruined video!”

“You weren’t gonna post that, kid; you wanna get banned from social media?”

“I was just messing around...”

“Kid... you’ve got five minutes to take a shower and get your ass to the front desk.”

“Okay, Dad! Did you hear that, folks? The great Rocco Mancini has spoken, and the good son obeys! I’ll be back with updates soon.” The young man said before stopping the recording.

“I’ll edit it so nothing racy gets out; don’t worry, Dad!”

“Five minutes and counting!” Rocco replied with fake irritation, but in reality, he was puffed up with pride for his son as he headed for the reception, spotting a man in his mid-thirties, wearing glasses and an outfit that screamed he’d never set foot in a gym in his life.

“Good morning, sir; welcome to Rocky's Gym; I’m Rocky Mancini, the owner and head coach. Are you looking for something?”

“Good morning, I’m Nick Rousseau, and I’m actually looking for my son; his phone tracker showed he was here just a few minutes ago before it suddenly stopped working.”

“Tracker? Isn’t that a bit much? Anyway, how old is he and what’s he like? We haven’t had anyone too young around here today, except for my own kid, but if I can help you out…”

“I... I don’t know...”

“You don’t know? What kinda dad doesn’t know how to describe his own kid?”

“I... I...” Nicholas replied, his voice filled with genuine desperation, which made Rocco feel a bit of sympathy, but not enough to stop him from making the next call.

“Hey, Wardo... Wardo!!! Damn kid never listens! Edoardo Mancini!!!!” Rocky yelled while watching Nicholas slightly tremble at the sound of that name.

“What’s up, Pops? I’ll get ready in a sec.” The handsome young man replied as he prepared to flex the powerful muscles that no kid his age could get without maximum dedication, watched by his dad and the other boy.

“Not that, you insubordinate ragazzo! This guy’s looking for his son; has anyone younger shown up today?”

“Nope!” He replied, giving Nicholas a quick glance over the shades he was wearing just for style before turning around and finally heading to the locker room.

“Sorry about that, teenage boys; you know how they are.” Rocco said, smiling at the other man.

“I... know?”

“Didn’t you come looking for your son?”

“Son?? Son... no... I don’t have kids... do I?” Nicholas replied, looking both confused and desperate.

“Are you feeling alright? I’m no doc, but I can try to help.”

“Doc... doctor? No... no need... I’m a doctor.” Nicholas replied with more confidence.

“Seriously? That’s awesome! Doctors are always good clients; they know how to take care of themselves.”

“Client?”

“You didn’t come here to train? We’re in a gym, after all.”

“Of course... I came... to train. You come highly recommended.”

“Modesty aside, it’s because I’m the best. I normally don’t take new clients, but we could use a doctor to evaluate our clients, so we could do a trade; you wouldn’t happen to be a sports doc, would you?”

“No, I…”

“Awesome! Just what I needed! But I can tell you’re already in shape!” Rocco said, grinning. “Let me show you the gym. Normally, this would be Wardo’s job, but the kid’s been so focused on his influencer career that he’s slacking here... between us, I’d rather he be a bodybuilder like me, but I think a dad should respect his kid’s wishes; don’t you think?” Rocco asked, and without waiting for a reply, he continued. “Don’t you wanna have kids? Are you single or married? Dude, if you’re single, I gotta introduce you to my sister; no disrespect to her, ‘cause my mama raised me right, but between us, she’s a total smoke show...” And so he went on while Nicholas followed, not realizing that with every word spoken, his reality was adjusting to the other man’s desires.

Minutes later, Rocco stepped into the locker room bathroom and watched his son recording another video, already showered but still unable to shake off the musk that surrounded him, maybe because he was still wearing the same shorts from his workout. He admired his boy, feeling proud knowing all this was his hard work paying off.

When the young man finished recording, he turned to him.

“Wardo, finish getting dressed and come out here for a minute; I got a surprise for you.”

….

“Hey guys, Wardo Mancini here, and I’ve got some awesome news! You’re probably tired of seeing my pops in my videos, but today, besides him, I wanna introduce you to someone else.” He said, repositioning the camera in the packed gym.

“This handsome fella next to my dad is my doctor, Nic Russo, and on top of that, he’s my uncle, married to my dad’s sister. And now for the biggest news: he’s about to be a dad, and he asked me to be the godfather of his boy! Just think about the genetics of that kid with a dad like this and an uncle like my pops. My uncle says the kid can be whatever he wants, but we all know the iron bug is in our blood, and as far as his godfather is concerned, Rocky Russo is gonna be a champion bodybuilder!”

[sturniqlo]

PAYMENT IN KISSES- CHRIS STURN

summary: where y/n has trouble painting her left hand and chris comes to the rescue. short blurb

cw: a bit of cursing, FLUFF

an: WOAHH thank you guys so much for 1.4K!! here's a little something i cooked up💋

masterlist | join my taglist

-----------------------------------------------

"Ugh!" Y/n groans on the bed, wiping away the nail polish that smeared outside her nail. She looks at her right hand and the painting was horrible, she always had trouble painting her right with her left. She capped her light pink nail polish and placed it on Chris' nightstand.

She pours some nail polish remover onto a cotton pad and wipes off the polish off her right hand nails. Sighing, she grabs her phone and scrolls on her phone for a while.

"Chris, baby. I'm bored." She comes up behind him and wraps her arms around his neck. "Hi, babe. You finished painting your nails?" He takes his headset off and looks down at her painted left hand, then to her bare right one. "What happened to this one?" Chris grabs her right hand and turns to face her. "I couldn't paint it nicely, it ended up messy so I took it off." She shrugged.

"Want me to paint it for you?" He stares at her lips that wore his favorite lipstick of hers. A bright shade of dark pink. "You would do that for me?" She gasps. "Of course! C'mon let's go." He lets go of her hand and turns off his computer. Y/n walks to his bed and grabs the light pink polish and plops on his bed.

"Let me see that." Chris sits in front of her and grabs the small bottle from her. "Your hand, please." He brings his palm out. Y/n giggles and places her hand into his palm. "Thank you, beautiful." He kisses her knuckles and puts her hand on his knee so he can open the nail polish. "Here, I'll hold it." Y/n holds out her free hand to hold the bottle while Chris has a hold of the wand.

"Welcome to Chris' nail salon." He puts on a serious voice. Y/n only giggles. "You are my very first customer," Chris swipes the polish filled bristles "And might I say, you are very pretty." He smiles, breaking character. "You're so silly, babe."

On the third nail, they were both in a random conversation. "When're you filming again?" She brings the bottle to him so he can re-dip the brush. "Sunday, we're filming a car video. Oh- that reminds me," He goes to paint her nail, and Y/n waits for his answer. "What does it remind you of?" She giggles.

"Shit, sorry." He laughs. "Me, Nick and Matt want you to film another video with us, if you're up for it." Y/n had filmed about three videos with them and she's made an appearance in some of their vlogs here and there. "Sure, I'll film another video with you guys- just as long as it's not a baking challenge. You guys are crazy when filming those."

Chris smiles. "I promise you it's not. It's a parent challenge." Y/n furrows her eyebrows. "Where are you guys going to get a baby?" He laughs again. "No, not with a real baby. With eggs, if we break it we lose." "Ohh!" She says. "M' almost done here." He paints her pinky. "You're quick with it, babe."

He smirks, "Don't even think about it, you animal." Y/n already knew that he was going to make a dirty joke out of it. "Okay, okay. I won't, but it would've been a good one."

"Thank you, so much Mr. Chris." She looks at her perfectly painted left hand. "You are very welcome." He says, placing the little bottle back on the nightstand. "How can I ever pay you?" Y/n giggles. "You can pay me with lots of face kisses. I want your lipstick marks all over me." He throws himself down on the bed and brings her along. "Chris!" She giggles and starts kissing him all over his face. "I just love you so so much!" He mumbles through a kiss. She gasps. "My nails." She frowns but smiles when she sees Chris' face covered in her lipstick marks."

"Looks like I'll have to repaint it. You can just give me my next payment now." He brings her lips back to his face.

[xosannie]

Ateez members I think would have a mommy kink

☆Genre: smut MDNI 18+ only

☆Pairing: sub!ateez x afab!reader

☆Word count: 2k+

☆Warnings: Mommy kink (ofc), praise, dirty talk, slight breeding (use protection y’all), begging, hand job, pet names (baby, my love, puppy), boys get embarrassed:((, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, cumming in pants, humping (let me know if I missed any).

Seonghwa

He would be too shy to mention it to you, it would be a dirty secret to him, an embarrassing fantasy. Until one day, you have him needy and desperate. You’ve been teasing him for so long, barely touching him and making him beg. He would get so desperate and sexually frustrated he would tear up, poor baby. :((

________________________________________ 

Seonghwa was sat on the couch, head resting back on the cushions as you rode him, finally giving him what he needs. His hands tightly gripping your hips, afraid that if he let go, you might fly away. 

“Fuck you’re so good, baby, so pretty for me.”

You caress his cheek, admiring the pretty way his brows furrow, his mouth agape, letting out beautiful moans. You decided he endured enough teasing for the night, gently caressing him as your hips rock back and forth in a swift motion. 

"Mmm, so good,” he mumbles.

You place soft kisses on his neck, jaw, and cheek, chuckling at the way he whimpers at your touch. He was feeling lost in the pleasure, having no control of the words that escaped his mouth.

“Does that feel good, my pretty boy?”

“Yes mommy...”

Well, that’s new.

Your eyes shoot open and your hips still. You pull back slightly to look at Seonghwa’s now flushed face. 

“What was that?”

Seonghwa sat there frozen, eyes wide and ears burning red. He didn’t mean to say it, but he couldn’t help it, he was feeling so safe and so good it slipped out. :(

“I….uh.”

Your heart pounded at the sudden nick name, you would have never thought Seonghwa would be into that, but fuck did it ignite a fire in your stomach. You look at him questioningly, wanting to hear him say it again. 

“Nothing. I... Can we just continue, please?”

"No, you definitely said something.”

Seonghwa covered his flushed face in his hands, he just wanted to crumble into a ball, he felt so embarrassed. How could he let something like that slip out? 

“I didn’t mean it. Just…..please pretend I didn’t say that.”

You decided to let it go this time, but you could never forget it. You took his hands out of his face and kissed his lips softly. He relaxes at the feeling of your lips, and soon enough, your hips started rolling again. He moaned softly against your lips and wrapped his long arm around your body. 

You held him close as the bounce of your hips moved faster and his moans grew louder. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close, feeling his warm breath against your skin as he whimpered. 

You felt him twitch inside you, and his quiet moans grew more high pitched. He was close, and you knew it.

“You going to cum for me, baby?”

He nods eagerly against your neck, holding you tighter. 

“Use your words.”

“Yes. Yes, I’m close. I want to to cum. Can I please cum?”

You chuckle at his begging, whispering in his ear with a soft and caring tone. 

“Then cum for me, my love. Cum for mommy.”

His eyes widen at your words, and without a second thought, he was cumming deep inside you. His body trembled as his high-pitched whimpers filled the room. You smile to yourself, moaning softly. Seeing Seonghwa cum so hard brought you to the edge yourself and soon you were cumming on his dick. He whimpers as you clench on his oversensitive dick, panting loudly as he held you close, burying his face in your neck. 

You both sit there trying to catch your breath. You pull away to cup Seonghwa’s face, praising him softly. Littering his flushed face with kisses.

After a nice shower, you both found yourself entangled in each other’s arms in bed. You played with his dark, long hair as he rested his head on your chest.

“Baby, you know you could have told me you have a mommy kink.”

He stayed silent for a moment, feeling his ears burn up again when you mention it. His voice was quiet when he responded.

“I was just embarrassed. I was scared you would judge me.”

“I would never judge you, baby, I want you to feel satisfied and happy. Don’t be afraid to tell me those things, okay?”

You pull his head up by his chin so he is looking at your face, your eyes lock with his for a second before he shifts his gaze, feeling a bit shameful. 

“Besides, it was hot when you called me mommy.”

His eyes widened at your words, flicking his gaze back to you. He was already feeling a stir in his pajama pants at the thought of you thinking it’s hot.

“R-really?”

His voice was meek and there was a hint of insecurity in his tone. You placed a kiss on the tip of his nose and smiled brightly at him.

"Yes, really, so keep calling me that. Trust me, mommy likes it.”

His breath hitches at your words, and he can feel himself growing in his pants again. You notice the shift in his mood and smirk. You cup his face and pull him in for a kiss.

“Mommy?”

“Yes baby?”

He shifts so he could hover over you and you feel his growing erection press against you through the thin materials of his silk pajama bottoms. You bite back a smirk, your body grows excited again at the feeling. 

“Please touch your good boy again, I need it.”

Oh you were going to have so much fun with him.

San

You would be the one to mention it, San never really gave it much thought before. Until on day, when you’re feeling extra horny, you slipped up and his body reacted to it in a way he never thought would.

—————————————————————————

San was laying in bed, innocently scrolling on his phone when you came by, feeling horny as fuck. You cuddle into him at first, laying your head on his chest, tracing patterns on his bare skin. A few minutes of cuddling later your hands started to slowly travel down south. San threw you a knowing glance, watching the way your hands moved down to his crotch.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you talking about?”

You play coy as you fingers slip in his gray sweats. San smirks, letting your hand travel low on his body. You grasp san’s (now hardening) dick and he moans softly, you slowly jerk him off in his sweats.

“No underwear? Were you expecting me to jerk off your pretty dick”

You kiss san’s neck, nibbling on the skin. His breath grew more labored and he gasps at your praise, he lets out moan when your fingers stroked faster.

“I want to be a good boy, be ready for you at all times.”

Next thing you know you’re sat next to San jerking him off. He pants loudly and buck his hips into your fist. His gray sweats were pulled down to his mid thigh, too eager to pull them off all the way. 

“Look at you, bucking into my fist like a dog. So cute, you’re such a cute puppy.”

San whimpers at your words, feeling his face heat up and his dick twitch. You smirk at him, you loved the way San sounded when he moaned. You also love the way he’s so eager to please, and so desperate for your touch. He may have been a big strong man, dripping with masculinity, but in closed doors he was a sensitive baby who gets so needy so quick. 

You were getting lost in his pretty noises, feeling turned on by how desperate he looked fucking himself in your grip. His abs flexed every time his hips thrust up, and he grabbed tightly onto your thigh. You didn’t have time to stop yourself from the words that escaped your lips.

“Fuck baby you’re so pretty for mommy”

San moaned loudly at the comment, his hips stuttered and his white cum shot up onto your fist and his lower abdomen. You watch with shock (and admiration) at his sudden orgasm. His body trembled, whimpers and whines escaping his lips as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. You slowed the pace of your hand, and he covered his face in his arms as he panted loudly. 

You sit there astonished, frozen at what just happened, a smile spread on you face as you laugh softly. 

“What the fuck?”

San wines hiding in his big arms, he squirms around feeling embarrassed for cumming so fast (and so hard) after hearing you call yourself mommy.

You laugh softly as you caress San’s hair with your clean hand. His chest rising and falling rapidly, he pulled his arms away and looked at you with narrowed eyes, a slight pout on his lips.

“Don’t laugh.” 

“Sorry, you’re just so cute.”

You place a soft kiss on his forehead, your fingers running through his dark locks. 

“Wow Sannie, you have a mommy kink? ”

You raise your brows up and down suggestively, smirking down at San. He lets out a sigh, his breath now evened out.

“I didn’t even know I did till now. Damn that’s was so hot though”

You chuckle then lean down, capturing his lips in a kiss. 

“I’m glad you like it too and don’t think it’s weird.” 

His face softened at tour words, he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“It’s not weird, I never really thought about this kind of stuff but…..well you saw how hard I came just now.”

You both laugh softly at his remark and you place another soft kiss on his lips. He pulls you closer kissing you back eagerly and soon you were straddling his hips when the kiss grew more passionate. He tugged at your shorts wanting them off, whimpering softly. 

“Please fuck me mommy.” 

This man was going to be the death of you. 

Wooyoung

He would be straight up with you, unashamed. Mentioning it as nonchalantly as possible, but when you’re uncertain, he starts to feel a bit concerned. He doesn’t want you to do something you’re uncomfortable with, so he’ll try to brush it off. —————————————————————————

You were both lounging on the couch one night. You laid back with your feet propped on his lap. He gently rubbed your leg, massaging your calf here and there, enjoying each other’s presence. You both were snacking on sweets, bantering about whatever came to mind. 

“Okay, what other kinks do you have?” 

He sighs, thinking back on the many kinks and fetishes he likes to dabble in, swallowing a piece of candy he was just chewing on.

“Oh, I have a mommy kink.”

He shrugs, digging his hand back into the bag of gummies you two were enjoying. Your eyes widen, not really expecting to hear that, but also you weren’t really surprised.

“Really? I mean, I guess that makes sense.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He teases, throwing a gummy at your direction. You giggle and dodge the candy, nudging him with your foot.

“Hey! I mean, you just look like the type, I guess.”

He smiles softly at your words, he toys with the hem of your pajama bottoms.

“You don’t think it’s weird, do you?”

You look at Wooyoung, taking a moment to picture what it would be like to have him calling you mommy in bed. Your silence starts to worry him a bit as he feels a pang of disappointment in his chest. He looks away, fiddling with the fabric of your pants. He was about to change the subject, telling you to let it go and pretends he never mentioned it, until you spoke.

“It took me a moment to picture it, I don't know. I think I need to hear it during sex to know if I like it.” 

He looked over at you with hopeful eyes. Well,  that wasn’t a "yes, it’s weird,” so he felt a bit relieved. 

“We can try it one day if you’d like.” 

You smile at him, rubbing your foot on his thigh.

"Yeah, we can.”

He watched the way your foot rubbed him, inching closer to his crotch. He raised his brows, a sly smirk forming on his face. 

Soon after, your legs were spread wide, and your discarded pajama pants rested on the living room floor. Wooyoung propped himself between your thighs, licking eagerly at your cunt. 

His tongue fucked in and out of your hole as his nose rubbed against your clit. He was moaning whorishly in your pussy, basking in the taste of your juices and your fingers in his hair. You gasped, arching you back at the feeling of his pretty nose stimulating your bundle of nerves.

"Oh, there you go, Wooyoung. Yes, just like that.”

Your grip on Wooyoung’s hair tightens, and he groans at the feeling. Looking up at you with wide pleading eyes, wanting to see your every expression. He licked up your pussy, sucking your clit while messaging it with his tongue.

You moan louder at the feeling, throwing your head back, your thighs clenching around Wooyoung’s head. You rocked your hips back and forth using his tongue to get off.

This is how Wooyoung liked it—you holding him down on your pussy as he licks you up eagerly. He loves to be used for your pleasure, he’s just a toy for you, ready to help you get off whenever and wherever you want. 

He was so lost in pleasing you he started to subconsciously rut against the couch cushion. He grunts at the friction it created, slick precum dripping down, making a mess of his sweats. 

“Fuck Wooyoung, your tongue is so good. You’re so good at eating mommy’s pussy.”

Wooyoung whimpers at hearing to call yourself mommy, his hips thrust up once more, and he cumming in his sweats. He gripped tightly onto your thighs, moaning against your pussy, sending vibrations up your body. 

You gasp loudly watching him cum in his pants, the sight alone was enough to bring you to your orgasm. Legs trembling around Wooyoung’s head, he moans at the taste of your cum, licking it up eagerly. 

He weakly pulls away from you, knowing you don’t like it when he overdoes it after your orgasm. He wiped his chin with shaky hands, looking up at you, breathing heavily. 

You chuckle breathlessly, looking down at Wooyoung and cupping his face. 

“Wow, that was hot. Mmm, come over here so mommy can fuck you.”

Wooyoung whimpers, his brows furrowing, and he nods eagerly.

“Yes, okay”

He scrambles up, hovering over you with trembling arms, desperately trying to pull his soiled sweats off. You cup his face, making him look at you.

"Yes, what, baby?”

He whimpers at your touch, feeling himself growing hard again.

“Yes mommy.” 

That night something awoke in you, but you’re glad it did. 

a/n: Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I’m a massive whore for submissive Ateez, so don’t be surprised if I incorporate in my stories a lot🫣🤭.

Update: after reading this back and pondering for a moment I feel like I would change Seonghwa to Mingi