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sardonic-the-writer · 6 months ago

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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

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keefechambers · 8 months ago

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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.

#James somerton #hbomberguy #suicide mention //

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disgustingtwitches · 4 months ago

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"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.

#simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #short stuff

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her-favorite · 6 months ago

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CLUELESS; M. STURNIOLO

DAD!MATT STURNIOLO X F!MOM!READER

warnings: (toxic)baby daddy!matt YUPPP (except with a happy ending bc i can’t help myself)

a/n: requested! i gave the daughter a random name bc typing “y/d/n” gets annoying lmao, i also kinda added more detail to it (and a happy ending bc angst makes me sad) but i hope you like it anon!! <3

wc: 2,570

SYNOPSIS: Matt made it clear that he wasn’t ready for a relationship with you, but how does he react once you tell him you’re going out for the night?

Matt broke it off with you, it was his decision entirely.

Since you have birth to Angelina, it was said that Matt wasn’t ready for an official relationship. At the time, you had been angry; you had a few month old baby in your arms as your boyfriend proclaimed that he wasn’t “ready for something so formal.” As months pass, you’ve grown used to the situation, handing your daughter back and forth with the father of your child as you minded your business and he minded his.

Today was Friday, and Matt had texted you a few days ago that he was going to come by to pick up Angelina so she could visit Nick and Chris. You complied, given it was also a perfect opportunity to get out for once. Usually, when Matt has his daughter at his place, you stay in and relax, something you’re not necessarily able to do with an almost two year old around.

Today you decided to go to the bar… information Matt was not expecting.

When you heard the annual three knocks on your door, you made your way towards it and opened it. “You have a key, Matt, you know how to get in.” You say as usual, walking back into the bathroom to finish putting in your earring. You were already dressed up, nothing too crazy, but still comfortable enough for you to wear out.

“Why are you all dressed up, mama?” Matt leans against the open doorframe, his blue eyes raking over your body before watching you in the mirror. His arms were crossed over his chest, accentuating his taut biceps in the tank top he was wearing, accommodating to the nice weather outside.

“I’m going to the bar.” You reply shortly, turning around without looking at him as you walk by. Before he could get any sound out his mouth, your daughter sprints out of your room (too busy playing with her box of fake fruits that Uncle Nick gifted her), looking for her father.

“Daddy!” Her sweet voice distracts Matt as his eyes drift down, meeting hers. She has a cute smile on her face as she extends her arms up towards him.

“Hi, babygirl.” Matt smiles wide as he leans down to pick her up, resting her on his hip, placing a stabilizing arm underneath her. Placing kisses around her face, sweet giggles fill the air, quickly placing a smile on your face just from the sound.

As Matt makes his way over to you, he watches you gather your things. Rocking her slightly on his hip, he speaks up, “What’re you doin’ at a bar?” He tried to sound as neutral as possible, but the edge in his tone was clear. Immediately picking it up, a sigh escapes your lips. You glance back at him, noticing how Angelina was too busy playing with her father’s horse necklace to pay attention to what her parents were saying.

“What do you usually do at a bar, Matt?” You reply sarcastically, giving him a look. With a clench of his jaw, he keeps his eyes on you, occasionally falling down your body to watch your legs sway by each other.

Licking his lips, he averts his gaze and looks back over at you. “Are you meeting someone there?” His voice became heavy, jealousy seeping through.

Matt’s always been possessive, not too an unhealthy extent, but enough that even a stare towards someone that had romantic feelings for you got the hint. You used to love it, it felt safe, like he was protecting you. But ever since he called it off (and with Angelina), he’s had no reason to be jealous because neither of you had any time or reason to be or hookup with someone else.

His sudden dose of questions doesn’t surprise you, but they did start to get on your nerves. He was the one who didn’t want to stay together.

“Does it matter?” You respond, grabbing your phone as you turned to face him. You notice the way he tries to hide his irritation, either for Angelina’s benefit or for yours. There was no use if the latter was the case, you knew him inside and out. “When are you coming back with her?” You decide to change the topic, your voice back to normal, trying not to let his curiosity get the better of you.

Exhaling softly, Matt licks his lips again as he answers, “Nick was actually wondering if you’d wanna come over Sunday; said he misses you.” He never stops his slight movements with his daughter on his side, soothing her into unconsciousness.

As the words leave his lips, it made you realize how long it’s been since you’ve seen Nick and Chris. You did miss them; they were your best friends. But being as busy as you were with a little girl, you barely have time for yourself, let alone to hangout with your friends. You’re hoping today will ease your anxiety of going out again.

Nodding your head, a soft smile curls at the end of your lips. “Yeah, that sounds good.” You accept the invitation, the thought of seeing the other two boy’s lifting your mood.

“Cool.” Matt’s answer was short as he watches your reaction. He’d be lying if he said seeing you happy didn’t make him happy. That’s all he’s ever wanted for you, he was just always scared he’d never be the one to give that to you. But, now, with you going out to the bar, potentially meeting someone else…

“It’s getting late so I’m gonna head out.” Your voice interrupts his thoughts as he blinks. Swallowing dryly, Matt nods and tightens his hold on his girl, grabbing the bag you pack for her every time Matt came by to pick her up.

“Yeah, I should probably get back, anyway.” He replies, trying his best to go along with your statement, despite the uproar of jealousy burning up his body. He slings the bag over his shoulder, taking steps towards your front door.

Before he leaves, Matt turns to let you talk to your daughter. “I’ll see you soon, Angel.” You kiss her cheek, smiling as she giggles softly. “I love you.” You whisper close to her ear, knowing how much it tickles her. More giggles fill the air as she playfully swats at you, her tiny fingers resting against your nose. Pressing a peck against her small palm, you let go of her as she immediately reaches for Matt’s necklace again.

“Say, “bye, mama.” Matt rocks her gently, looking down at her. Angelina’s bright eyes look over at you, waving her hand dramatically.

“Bye, mama.” She repeats, her words slurred slightly, clearly just a few seconds from sleep. You laugh softly at her attempt, waving back at her. As Matt turns to leave, he opens the door, but not without a last glance to you.

“Have fun tonight, Y/N.” He says, catching you off guard. Exhaling through your nose, your shoulders lose their tense position, watching Matt watch you. Your eyes swipe between his, trying to read him. For the first time, you couldn’t. It made you feel anxious, like you were doing something wrong. No, he’s doing this on purpose, he knows how to get under your skin.

“Thanks, Matt.” You reply shortly, keeping your face neutral as you spoke. With a curt nod from him, he turns and shuts the heavy door behind him. Sighing as you can’t help yourself, you walk over to the window, watching him walk away. You notice the way he entertains Angelina’s babbles as he buckles her into her carseat, exaggerating his reactions to make her laugh. As he rounds his car, he takes his seat in the driver’s side and turns it on. With a glance towards you, he notices you staring as he sends you another nod before putting the car in drive and pressing on the gas.

Maybe you shouldn’t go out tonight…

That same sentence repeats itself in your head as soon as you step foot into the busy bar.

It’s only been a couple minutes since you walked in and you already regret it. You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been in this sort of setting and you’re far from getting used to it. You’d be lying if you said your mind wasn’t plagued with thoughts of Angelina and Matt. You know how good of a father Matt is, he’s just… complicated, it was something you just had to live with.

As you sat at the bar, you pondered whether you should get a drink or not, knowing you wouldn’t be able to drive home if you did. Getting lost in your thoughts was easy as the people around you entertained themselves.

“Hey.” A voice broke you out of your reverie, your head snapping in the direction beside you. A man seated himself on a chair next to you, a half-empty glass in his hand.

Swallowing dryly, you reply, “Hey.” You couldn’t remember the last time someone tried to flirt with you, given you’ve spent so much time with Angelina and Matt. Once your eyes met his, you almost gasped at his appearance. He had dark brown hair contradicting his blue eyes, bright skin a familiar shade. He looks like Matt…

Redirecting your gaze, a quiet sigh escapes your lips, thankfully being drowned out by the loud music. Silently waiting for his next words, your fingers tap anxiously against the top of the bar.

“I was just wondering what a pretty girl like you was doing sitting alone.” The stranger replies, a smirk forming on his face. Exhaling softly, you ignore him, contemplating your options. Matt would never start a conversation like that. A voice inside your head yells at you to stop comparing other people to Matt, knowing that a habit like that could get destructive.

You needed to go home.

Sunday morning comes around as you sleep in, taking the empty house for granted. When you had gotten home Friday night, it was easy to fall into a routine of making food and watching tv, deciding to take your free time to relax instead of go out. Maybe it just wasn’t for you.

A few hours later, your make your way over to the triplets’ house, putting the car in park as you unbuckle your seatbelt. It was a little past four as you knocked on their door, waiting patiently for someone to answer.

“Y/N!” Nick’s voice blared as soon as the door creaked open, enveloping you in his arms almost immediately. With a soft laugh from you, you wrap your arms around him, relaxing in his hold. “I missed you so much, I haven’t seen you in forever.” He says, his tone more dramatic than needed, making you chuckle.

“I missed you, too, Nick.” You smile, stepping into their house and up the stairs. Smiling once you see your daughter, she reciprocates and giggles loudly, alerting Chris. She rests on his lap as his legs bounce lightly, previously relaxing her.

“Y/N!” Chris smiles, looking over at you.

“Mommy!” Angelina exclaims, trying to get over to you. Chris picks her up and walks over to you, handing you your daughter before hugging you softly, making sure he doesn’t crush Angelina.

“How’ve you been, ma?” Chris asks, his voice soft. He grew into the habit of calling you that ever since he found out you were pregnant; you slowly got used to it.

Entertaining his small talk, you feel Angelina play with the neckline of your shirt, her tiny fingers just barely tugging on the fabric. Chris stands with his arms crossed, listening to your words, occasionally interrupting whenever a new thought popped into his head.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me you were here?” Matt walks out from his room once he hears his daughter giggle, not expecting for you to be here already. Nick had made his way back up next to you, joining your conversation, not without periodically getting annoyed at Chris.

“‘Cause you were too busy brooding in your room.” Chris replies, a smile that’s been on his face the entire time never leaving. With a scoff from the other brother, Matt gets closer to you, reaching out to tickle his daughter gently. With a cute giggle in response, his mood quickly switches as he watches her.

Once Nick announces that he needs to grab something from his room (to get away from the conversation he held with Chris), Chris immediately follows him, his words never stopping even when Nick groans in irritation. As they walk upstairs, it leaves you, your daughter and Matt together.

“So, how was the bar?” Matt breaks the silence as his arms cross, his jaw subconsciously tightening. He waits to hear your answer, his blue eyes raking over your reaction.

“It was fine.” With a vague answer, you knew it upset him, but you wanted to figure out why. You notice the way his tongue licks over his teeth, his short nails digging into the soft skin of his arm.

“Did you meet anyone?” His question lingers in the back of your mind as you walk a few feet to sit down on their couch, shortly after feeling the cushion beside you dip as Matt took his seat next to you.

Hesitating, you exhale softly trying to figure out how to reply. You could be unclear and not give him a definite answer, or you could be honest and finally tell him how you truly feel. You knew waiting any longer would just make things worse..

“No.” You reply, looking over at him. Matt tries to hide the look of shock on his face, but you noticed it before he fixed it. “Because I was too busy thinking about you.” You mutter, looking down at your daughter in your lap as she fidgets with your fingers.

Matt sat still, watching you. He’d be lying if he said he was expecting you to say that, too engrossed with the idea of you meeting someone else and forgetting about him. His chest moved faster than usual, your sudden confession taking him off guard. “You were thinking about me?” He asks, his voice coming out softer than intended.

With a nod in response, you keep your eyes on your girl, too nervous to look at him. Your eyes widen slightly when you suddenly feel his hand grasp your chin, making you look over at him, his tattooed arm holding you tightly.

“You were thinking about me?” Matt repeats, his blue eyes boring into yours. You knew this game he played; if he ever asked you something important and you didn’t verbally answer, he’d make sure you did either way.

“Yes.” You sigh, swallowing thickly as your nerves heighten. His tough façade slowly breaking as a small curl tugs at the ends of his lips. Rolling your eyes, a small smile overtakes your mouth as you try to look away from him.

“Look at me, baby.” His voice was raspy as he caught your attention, mindlessly following his words. “I know I’ve been difficult and these past two years have been a lot, but,” he takes a second to think, trying to find the right words. “I was an idiot for never treating you the way you deserve, mama. I promise I can do better this time.”

And who were you to say no?

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo x reader

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going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 8 months ago

Text

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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taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!): @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @zombie-freak

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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pearlzier · 2 months ago

Text

────⠀ ⠀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."

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#𐙚˙ ana writes ⋆.˚#chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo

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feeder86 · 3 months ago

Text

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.

#gay feedee #gainerstory #gayfeeder #gayfeedee #gainerfic #gainer story #gainer stories #gainerstories #gainer fic #gainer fiction

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sturniqlo · 2 months ago

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Payment in Kisses- C.S

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.

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mintmatcha · 2 months ago

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Inevitable Things : chapter nine

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. Mentions of drug use

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Toshinori sends you a text just as you’re walking back from your room.

-> Slways a sad friday without your reports. Hope things are good. THank you for keeping my company moving and for keeping the peace this weekend.

He ends the message with a little flexed bicep emoji-- his little sign for ‘keep fighting’.

A pang of something clangs around in your ribcage. You miss him too. Usually, it’d be strange to consider yourself close with a boss, but Toshinori is different; he’s kind, he’s earnest, he treats you well. His riches are used to improve the world, not line his own pocket-

There’s also a sour feeling that hits your gut. Your position on this trip is borrowed; Toshinori should be here, representing his company, just like he had every other year. You’re only here because he likes you- not because of merit or knowledge.

That only deepens your dread. No, you aren’t special or smart. You’re just a pity case, here because your boss is dying. And isn’t it selfish to pity yourself? Toshinori is the sick one.

By the time the elevator chimes open, you’re consumed by dread. You slide past the doors and next to the man in there, head tucked down to watch your shoes. They aren’t your silly red ones, but a brand new sensible black kitten heel-- a child’s choice in shoes.

“No hello?” The stranger says. “Thought we had a truce.”

You briefly look at the man, who’s turning your way, and then dip away, embarrassed; the man is cute, well put together, someone who you wouldn’t mind talking to-

-you realize he isn’t a stranger at all.

It’s a simple black suit, pressed a bit unevenly in the legs, but well fitted across his waist. Aizawa is wearing a dark emerald shirt with no tie, unbuttoned at the top. Even his hair is tidy and hydrated; it’s still wet from the shower, pulled into a tight low ponytail. For the first time maybe ever, he’s clean shaven as well, a little nick on his cheek from the kiss of razor, right under his silvered scar.

He looks good.

Like. Really good.

It’s a surprise and it also isn’t-- seems like you’re always lured in by a surprise Shouta sighting.

“I didn’t realize it was you in this… get up.” You shift your weight away from him. Does he even have cologne on? It’s not like you expected him to give a speech in his sweatshirt--- well, maybe you did. “I was-- I dunno. Thinking.”

He nods like he knows what that really means.

“Don’t do that.”

“I’m not allowed to think?” you repeat. “Aren’t you supposed to be nice to me?”

He shoots you a glare. “You didn’t even say hello to me-- that isn’t nice either. I figured our treaty was off.”

Ugh. He may have a point. Pretending is going to involve, well, actually pretending. You look him up and down, slapping on your fakest smile. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Aizawa grimaces as if you’ve slapped him, fingers pressed into his temple like you’ve caused the onset of a migraine. It takes him a moment to mumble out: “The feeling is mutual.”

“At least say it like you mean it,” you demand.

“The fact you are here is just the best.” he says, more enthusiastic than you’ve ever seen the man, but also clearly fake; his lips curls up to the left when he’s lying. He rubs little circles into his skin to help him through the pain of being a decent person. “I’m so grateful you get to watch me present and then report how I did back to my boss.”

Despite yourself, you smile, just a bit.

“That’ll do.”

“For you.” Aizawa repeats it. That's right: he's doing this for your comfort, not his own. That thought wriggles inside you and buries down like a worm.

“Do we need ground rules?” you ask. The elevator dings down, down, down-

“A weekend treaty was my idea, I don’t need stipulations,” Aizawa says, ruffling his hair. It smells like product, something expensive than Hizashi definitely forced upon him. “I can be civil without rules.”

“Then why are you never civil?” you shoot back, talking before you can think. The doors flick open and Aizawa walks out, giving you a bemused, yet annoying look.

“That’s a very pointed question,” he says over his shoulder. “You might be the one who needs ground rules.”

“Hey!”

Mic’s in the hall already when you two arrive. The place would be simply cavernous if it wasn’t filled to the gills with booths. The ceiling glimmers with chandeliers and the classic blue tiling, but the rest of the room is pretty standard-- almost underwhelming. The booth Hizashi’s set up is mild compared to the one’s surrounding it, which makes sense, you guess. It’s not like he could have wheeled a hospital bed into this hotel; just diagrams, brochures, and enough swag to lure even the least interested prospect into his arms. He’s unwrapping a lollipop when he notices you two approaching.

“Wow, wow-” He sizes you up with the candy. The bright red end shines in the light. Someone snags a piece of candy off of the table as they pass; despite the fact the hall isn’t officially open, there’s still a fair amount of people roaming. “Looking good, baby.”

“Which one of us are you talking to?” It takes you a second to realize Aizawa’s kidding.

“You, obviously-” Hizashi says back to him. They both chuckle and it’s horrifying how they do it in the same way: low, rolling, completely un-serious. They really have known each other forever.

“Oh, before I forget-” The blonde spreads out a sticker and a proper name placard. “I grabbed name tags.”

Yours in handwritten in surprisingly nice writing, but Aizawa's is laminated and on a lanyard, his name and degree written in red bold lettering-

“I didn’t know you were a doctor,” you blurt out as he puts it on. Aizawa shifts his weight to his other leg uncomfortably. “Should I be calling you Dr. Aizawa?”

“No.” he dismisses. “It’s not medical-- It’s a PhD.”

“In Biomedical Engineering, so medical’s in the name, actually-”

Aizawa shoots Hizashi a glare. “You know what I mean. I’m not saving someone from a heart attack. All I do is sit on this damn computer and look at programs and numbers.” Aizawa takes a chair from the neighboring booth- a biotissue company- and drags it to behind the table before flopping down.

“You should look around, see what everyone's up to. If you just sit here with us you're just going to stress over your talk.” Hizashi waves him off. “Besides, me and babygirl have it handled.”

Aizawa hunches over in his seat as he drags out his laptop and a pen.

“I want to stress over my talk.” He taps the capped end of his pen against his teeth, the click audible over the din of the growing crowd. “I want to sit here and be miserable.”

Hizashi looks at you and waggles his finger beside his head in the ‘this guy’s crazy’ way. Yeah- obviously. You have to hide your giggle as someone walks up to your table and Hizashi launches into his spiel. It’s hard not to watch Aizawa out of the corner of your eye; he is, in fact, sitting down and stressing out. The man has pulled out a tiny laptop and balanced it on his lap, alternating between furiously typing and mashing the back button.

“You okay if he’s here?” Hizashi whispers. Honestly, you’re not thrilled; you had been hoping for a lighthearted day alone with your buddy--

But maybe it can still be a little fun.

“Oh, absolutely,” you say too loudly. “Aizawa and I are buddies.”

You're abusing his kindness for you by pushing him, you know that, but doesn't he deserve it? Just a bit? Aizawa sneers a smile from behind his screen, clearing unamused.

“Best ‘buddies,’” he says, flat enough you could drive across it.

Hizashi looks between you. Then, he does it again.

“Since when?”

----

The rest of the afternoon continues the same way. Swathes of doctors and investors visit you, half of which ask about Yagi. You tell them all that he’s a fighter. Most understand this means he’s doing poorly. Luckily, Hizashi handles most of the harder questions; it’s amazing to see him in his zone, smooth talking and pitching and just talking so quickly and professionally that you’re almost ready to buy a Prome product yourself. No wonder people have tried to poach him from the company. The customers Prome already has sing his praises and tell you about all the wonderful extra steps he’s taken for them.

You aren’t sure you’re truly nice enough to be a sales rep too.

Aizawa only greets a few people, seemingly ones he knows well or that are well known enough to give his full attention. The worried look never leaves his face, except when you chirp little niceties at each other.

There’s comfort to it, you find. It’s better than the hot and cold thing you had going on. That bubbling, seasick anger inside of you can be funneled into thinly veiled sarcasm without consequence, with the added benefit of Aizawa seeming to enjoy it as well.

“Great shirt by the way,” a passerby says. Aizawa looks up, eyes wide and mouth agape enough for a fly to fly into.

“Were they talking to me?”

They actually were, but you can’t let him know that.

“Of course, buddy,” you coo. “It’s a great shirt- did you put this outfit together?”

He gives you a sideways glance as he continues typing away without seeing the keyboard. “I’m forty-- who do you think picks out my clothes? My mother?”

You think he’s actually joking in good faith this time.

“Sesame, maybe.”

He is being silly. He’s even smiling now, a weird thing with too much teeth. “Yes. You’re right. My cats picked out my suit. How silly of me to not credit her for her work.” His tone is horribly flat, but there’s still some charm to it; honestly, with the way he’s carrying on, you wouldn’t be surprised if he really did trust a cat with his clothing.

“Well, tell Sesame that I think you look great.”

“Thank you.” He adjusts his cuffs, running his fingers down the cotton edge of his shirt.

“You two are so weird today,” the blonde whines. “But you aren’t killing each other, so-”

Hizashi sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“Keep this up and I’ll buy dinner and drinks tonight-- Fuck, keep this up and I’ll plan your fucking wed-”

“Long time no see, gentlemen.”

A man, probably not much older than you, comes up to the table. He's seated in a wheelchair, rocking the wheels slightly back and forth. The stranger is exceptionally handsome: all wide smiles and broad shoulders, his black hair perfectly quaffed back and parted. The downturn of his eyes is dark and pleasant, and it takes your breath away when you realize he's looking at you and only you.

“I don't think we've met before.” He shakes his head a little as he speaks, back and forth in this delighted disbelief, as if he can't understand why he has never seen you. “I'm Tensei Iida.”

The name rings a bell, but you can’t quite place it.

“He's one of the super sexy doctors I was telling you about.” Hizashi says as he nudges you with his hip. Tensei rolls his eyes in a way that tells you he's actually tickled pink. That’s it-- he’s Aizawa’s presentation partner.

“Oh, stop that,” he says. “Don't listen to Mic- I’m just a normal guy.”

“Nice to meet you, Dr. Iida.” You take his hand. His grip is firm and dry, and he parts from you with a squeeze. “You work in prosthetics, right?”

“I do.” He flicks his hair out of his eyes like a teenaged dreamboat. What is with this guy? Was he made in a lab to be perfect? “Shouta over there is one of my best patients.”

Aizawa huffs and slaps his computer closed. “I highly doubt that.”

Patient? “I thought you two worked together.”

Tensei rolls his head to the side as he sighs, continuing this fake bashfulness thing. Unfortunately, it’s working for you; he’s sweet and humble, not to mention cute-

“We do.” He speaks so well, you're hanging off every word- “We modeled his leg together.”

Your eyes snap to Aizawa instinctively. Leg?

“Leg?” you say out loud, stupidly.

Tensei’s air shifts. He turns to Aizawa, knot creased, lips delightfully downturned. “I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

“It’s not.” Aizawa sighs, “I thought everyone knew.” He hems. He haws. Then, the man tugs his pant leg up with one hand and you see a sliver of gray metal at the ankle. Before you can really look at it, it’s gone, hidden once again. A prosthetic. It may not be a secret, but there’s definitely shame involved.

Everything snaps in place. The way he walks, the way he always shifts his weight-- you have a thousand questions, but none of them are appropriate.

“I didn’t realize,” you say, carefully. Aizawa is avoiding your eye very, very pointedly, but his beautiful friend is enthralled.

“Wait, really? That’s great to hear!” Tensei rolls forward a bit. “You didn’t notice anything at all? No difference in motion or-”

“He, uh, stomps, maybe.” You glance over. “Just a little.”

“I’ve always walked heavy-- The mobility is perfect, I told you.”

“Are stairs the only pain trigger?” Tensei asks.

“That isn’t the prosthetic’s fault, it’s my body’s. I’m always in pain.”

Oh. Oh. You think back to the stairs incident and the bed on the fifth floor. That’s why he called you cruel. Shit. Making him climb all those stairs…. you were being an asshole to a man with a disability and chronic pain.

God, no wonder he'd been so antagonistic-- he still started it, but maybe you went too far.

“You must love working with this old grump.” Tensei flashes a grin towards you, almost flirtatiously, and that pulls you out of your thought spiral.

“Well-” You have to swallow your worry. You force a smile and just say: “Shouta's always nice to me.”

All three men look at you in the same way.

“Really now?” Tensei says, and you’re almost annoyed by it. No, Aizawa isn’t nice, but… well, he’s your enemy, not Tensei’s. He should be nicer to his research partner.

“We're buddies.” Aizawa's dry sense of humor shines through. “Work… married, or whatever the term is.”

Hizashi barks out a laugh and throws his hair over his shoulder, eyes tight with healthy skepticism. “I thought I was your work husband!”

“I have two hands!”

Tensei never stops looking at you. You like how his fingers twitch when he says your name. “You’ve clearly got everyone wrapped around your finger.”

The way he talks. You think he might be wrapped there too.

“That’s just what she wants you to think.” Aizawa stands suddenly. “Tensei, I changed my mind. Let’s take a look at my leg.”

Another customer has started to look at the booth, so Hizashi is on again. Tensei’s attention seems to only be distracted by the mentions of work. “Right now?”

“Why not?”

Tensei starts to roll up his sleeves. “Alright, take the pants off and we’ll-”

“God, not here.”

Tensei just nods. “I was joking. I can go back to a room if you want.”

“I do.”

Just as suddenly as he appeared, Tensei leaves with Aizawa in tow. The older man turns and gives you the smallest, barely there nods as a goodbye before disappearing into the thickening crowd. Once Hizashi is free again a couple minutes later, you lean in and mumble.

“Are those secret lovers or something?”

It shocks a guffaw from Hizashi.

“Please, I wish Sho had a dirty little secret like that.” You hope he doesn’t see your eyes widen. “It would take a miracle for Shouta to have a little fuck buddy. He’s still not over-- well, his last thing.”

Last thing? He’s been single for the three years you’ve known him- what thing could he still be holding on to? You don’t have any room to judge -- you’ve been dating Touya since sixteen and can’t move on either.

“Why do you even care? Tensei caught your eye?”

You think about his pretty dark eyes and try to feel something. “Maybe.”

“Oooo-”

Your heels ache by the end of the day, so you slip your feet out of them from under the table. The restaurant is busy, both with people and decoration, and somehow even louder than the convention itself. The waitress has just left the second basket of chips - this one still hot from the fryer- because you and Hizashi have already demolished the first one. You should really get actual food to absorb the alcohol in your stomach, but Aizawa texted you to wait for him.

Texted. You.

It’s weird to see a new message under his name, an unread message you can peek at through your notifications. It feels illicit, raunchy, wrong--

Hizashi sucks at the end of his straw until it gurgles on ice. He’s smiley-er than usual-- and drunk as a skunk. Drinking on an empty stomach does that; you’re swaying already too and you're just two margaritas in. The man has his phone out, tinder open for you to swipe through. Men, women: everything wants a piece of Hizashi and you can’t blame them. His blonde hair is tousled ever so slightly, his glasses are halfway down his button nose-

How does Nemuri stop herself from getting jealous of the attention he gets and his looks?

“Isn’t being here fucking great?” He takes a mouthful of chips. “We talk all day and drink all night.”

He's trying to wave down your waiter.

“You gonna text Dr. Tensei?” He lingers on the word doctor, drawing it out with a warm affection.You snort into your own empty glass and lick the salt from the rim. It’s smoked, a little spicy too. You try to blame the burn in your stomach on that, instead of thirty.

“I don’t even have his number!” you try.

Tensei is… well, almost perfect, but… you aren't sure. It's not that you don't want him, but…

Maybe you're just gunshy. Touya has you scared to let go, move on. You try and think of Tensei and his sweet smile, his stubbled jawline, his downturned eyes and scarred cheek-

No, that's Aizawa you're thinking of. You physically shake the thought away. The last time you drank was when you saw his…

“But, I have his number!”Hizashi sings as he tries to fish an ice cube out with his drink. “I saw that look on your face; I know you’d love to sit on his face-”

“Shh!” You physically try to lower his volume by waving your hands in the air. A waitress passes, giving you both a strange look, but Hizashi just crunches his ice away happily. “I didn’t say that! He’s just--”

Sex isn't a priority for you. It’s not that you don’t like it, but it’s never as life changing and groundbreaking as you want it to be. By the time it started to feel good, Touya’s would be done and half asleep. (Not that you and Touya even had sex that often. The drug use and cheating scared you; he insisted he was safe, but. Well. He promised a lot of things. When you did have sex, it was with a condom and followed by four weeks of panic testing and STI googling.)

Sex just never seemed worth the stress, you guess. Maybe it’d be different with someone else. Nemuri clearly likes having sex, so do the girls you see on twitter. Maybe you’re broken or something.

“He’s kinda sexy.” You try to hold on to optimism.

“He’s awful sexy!” Hizashi agrees. “I’ll slip you his number later-”

“Why not now?” you say.

“What’s now?”

From behind you, Aizawa strolls in, now devoid of his lovely outfit and stripped down to dress pants and a white undershirt. His hair is back into it’s little knotted bun, curls squashed into submission. When he reaches over the table, you can’t stop your drunken self from watching how his bicep flexes, muscle under thick skin. God, maybe you do need Tensei’s number and a good fuck-- you’re acting like a dog in heat over exposed arms.

Thick arms, with the rounded hint of muscularity, but still. Just arms.

Aizawa tips the basket over and salt scatters across the table. “You guys didn’t save me a single chip.”

When did you guys finish the second one? The man sits next to you, thighs spread just enough to touch you for a moment. Your back straightens at the contact and, after a blink, you move away to give him more space. He smells like tobacco flower and musk, a surprisingly gentle cologne for a brash man.

“That's what you get for being late! There's shots coming-- how's that sound?” Hizashi says, much too loud.

A groan escapes you. Uh oh, you forgot about that: it’s time for you to slow down and eat something that isn't fried. Luckily, Aizawa is here now and the waiter is coming. She passes out the shots of tequila, then she’s gone again, giving Aizawa time to look at the menu she's handed him.

“Tapping out this early?” Aizawa asks. His elbow accidentally touches you as he scooches closer. “I’ll have yours if you don't want it.”

“Please do.” You push yours in front of him and Hizashi does the same.

“Miss girl and I have been having fun without you! Catch up, catch up!” he urges.

“I can tell. You’ve over-served her.”

You resent that, especially since it’s Aizawa’s fault, but you can’t help but laugh. It gurgles out of you, a bit too drunkenly. “I just need to eat.”

“The chips weren’t enough?”

“No!” Your mouth is running without your brain. “Ugh, I hate being drunk, I always text people that I shouldn’t.”

Hizashi and Aizawa both look at you, both thinking of very different things. Heat pools in your cheeks-- and a bit in your core, at Aizawa’s lidded gaze.

“Hey, uh--” Hizashi scooches out from the booth seat and stands, brushing the salt off of his shirt. “Don't be mad, but I’m gonna go.”

Aizawa sneers and you do the same. After all this time, he couldn’t wait a bit longer? Does he really think it’s a good idea to leave the two of you alone? Sure, you were jokingly nice today, but that can’t keep going-

“What? I just got here.” Aizawa seems to agree with you.

He waggles his phone in the air, text messages abundant. “Duty calls.”

At least someone’s getting laid tonight. Aizawa slides away from you and into the spot Hizashi just left, this pissed off look smeared across his face.

“It’s still on me, don’t worry. Here’s my card- go nuts, kiddos.” Hizashi slaps his card on the table and turns on a dime, humming a jaunty little tune to himself. “Don’t be jealous!”

“I’m older than you.”

“I’m thirty.”

The two of you are left in Hizashi’s wake, sitting awkwardly apart from each other.

“So,” you try. “How was your-?”

“We don’t have to do this.” Aizawa slides Hizashi’s card towards you. “You can leave too, if you don’t want to deal with me.”

Usually, you stay quiet, but your drunk brain is taking over. You lean back in the booth and cross your arms, trying to be assertive. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what? Set you free?”

“Assume what I want,” you say. “I’m not allergic to having dinner with you. We can like, just talk and be normal. We did it all day.”

Aizawa’s face scrunches up in disapproval, but he doesn’t object. He sits in constipated misery for a long moment before sighing and unbunching his body. He mirrors your body language, crossing his arms and leaning back just enough that he isn’t hunched over himself.

“My day was… fine.” he tries in earnest. “Good, even. Took a nap. Finished my presentations.”

“When are you presenting?”

He flips the menu over, then over again, unsettled. His foot is tapping under the table, bouncing the table a bit. “Tomorrow at eleven and Sunday at three.”

“I want to watch the one with Tensei, is that okay?”

His brow crinkles at the mention of Tensei.

“I can’t stop you, but it’ll be pretty boring.” he shrugs. “Just polymer talk. Hanging with Hizashi will be more fun.”

“Well… I dunno, I love him,” You tread carefully. “But he’s such a horndog sometimes.”

Aizawa snorts and rolls his eyes. There’s the whisper of a grin trapped in his gaze, you think.

“It’s true! He abandoned us tonight!”

“You should have seen him when he first met Nemuri-- it was much worse. He would run off to her at the drop of a hat,” he says. “She would call and he’d get this dopey look on his face-”

“That’s cute though.” You are picking at the salt on the table, dreaming of days when Touya gave you that unmistakable, gooey expression. “Every woman wants to be loved like that.”

When you glance up, Aizawa is watching you, expression relaxed. He takes a delicate pause, watching you from across the booth as if you’re a million miles away, a look that only locks in when you meet it. It’s almost somber, the way you both watch each other in reverent silence, the din of the restaurant around you growing.

“He left me alone at a frat house once.” Aizawa interrupts your thoughts. You blanch, then laugh, hand over heart at the thought. “Ran away to get some guy across campus.”

“Wait-- you were in a frat house?” you wheeze. You try to imagine him, yellow sweatshirt in the middle of a sticky floored basement, crowded so close he’s forced to dance along.

“Against my will.”

Aizawa takes a shot glass and tips it back, swallowing it all in one measured gulp. He shivers at the taste, tongue stuck between his teeth in disgust. It’s cute. It’s sweet. You can see the silhouette of the college boy he used to be. When he swallows the second shot, he makes the same face, wrinkles deeper this time.

“Slow down-” you say. “You shouldn't really drink all three!”

“Well, you’re clearly too drunk for another.”

“I’m not drunk!”

“Of course you are-” he says. “It's why you're being so nice and chatty.”

You gasp and throw a hand to your forehead in fake shock. “I'm always nice!”

Aizawa leans all the way back in the booth, eyebrow cocked skeptically. He sighs before he speaks. “If I remember correctly, you told me to go fuck myself.”

“No, you said that to me.” You close the gap between you by leaning forward into your elbows. “I said that you wished you could.”

It doesn’t feel scandalous to say until his eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up to your eyes. It’s only a second, a glimmer-- but it’s there, it’s real, it’s temptation. You’re not stupid; you’ve come to terms with the fact that you find Aizawa Shouta attractive, but the sudden attention makes your mouth salivate ever so slightly.

“I don’t feel like that anymore, I think.” you manage. “At least I don’t hate you anymore.”

“I never hated you.” He leans forward too, head tilted, expression open. “I just wanted an apology.”

The moment grinds to a halt.

“Are you fucking kidding?” You want to scream. Words bubble in your chest, hot and dumb. “I’m not apologizing.”

You jam your feet into your shoes and start fumbling with your purse. Anger makes you clumsy, makes your eyes burn with tears. “Well, okay, I’ll apologize for the stairs, but nothing else. You were so mean to me, on my birthday-”

“And then you immediately sexted me.” Oh, how his calm demeanor gets you even hotter; you want him to scream back, to act pissed-- “How was I supposed to take that?”

“Happily!” You gesture to yourself. “I have great tits!”

“You do.”

“Urgh! Don’t say that!” You slide out of the booth.

“I thought I was being nice.”

“You’re disgusting-”

“- I don’t know what you want from me. You’re so hot and cold-” Aizawa says, that look on his face.

“You are the one who told me to forget about the stupid texts!” you say. “New flash-- I texted you by accident and yet, I thought ‘maybe I’ll give him a chance’-”

You sniffle, those angry tears ruining your ire once again. Horror flashes across Aizawa’s face as he looks around, gauging the reaction of everyone around him.

“Then you turned me down!”

“I had a chance.” He whispers, carefully, shock enveloping his usually stoic face. You almost think he cares, that he regrets, with that almost childlike sadness smeared across his features. In fact, he almost reaches for you before you pull farther away. “I thought--”

“You fucking did.” You wipe your tears with your sleeve and try to channel Bakugo’s advice. “But not now! Treaty is done! Burned to the ground! I’m back to being a cunt!”

You say cunt a bit too loud. For what feels like the millionth time, you storm away, past the onlookers, away from the man of your -- well, certainly not of your affection.

“Wait.” He calls after you. “Hold on, wait-- we haven’t paid--”

You march out into the street. The alcohol is hitting you; the stars in the sky streak together with the light pollution, the muffled noise of the restaurant eaten by the growl of the city. You turn left and march down the street, as fast as you can without running, wide, wide strides to distance yourself from the asshole behind you as quickly as possible. You run the first corner you can, then another, then-- wait,

You were supposed to go left, maybe.

Taking the next street should turn you right around, but… the lane curves and curves and --

You turn around.

Huh. This next street feels even more wrong. The cement has turned to cobblestone, the traffic has died down to something more residential. You pull your phone from your pocket, just to find it dead. The screen won’t even light up. Dammit. Damn. It.

The tears in your eyes wobble from anger to fear.

You’re lost.

The hotel can’t be that far; it’s not like you’ve been walking for miles. The rubbed raw spots on your feet are already broken open again, each step blossoming with fresh, hot pain, but you keep pushing. Touya always told you that you were hopelessly directionless, but you didn’t think he meant it literally.

Maybe you are, without him.

That’s how this mess started, really. Touya left you directionless, adrift in the world. He always pulled you down, but at least down is a direction and a destination.

Where do you want to go? Not just now, but in life? Do you want Touya to return and give you that pull, like a stone in black waters?

No. You don’t. The love is still there, but the self harm, the horrors… you can’t keep losing your life in his aftershocks, can’t keep being pulled by his riptide.

You want stability, a home. Someone who worries about you the way you worry about them. You want to stop crying and start being who you used to be.

Could Shouta be that person? You don’t think so, but you know Touya isn’t that person either. You don’t deserve much in this world, but you at least deserve to give yourself a chance.

There’s a twenty four hour bodega, neon light dimmed to near extinguished. The owner sleepily tells you where to go and you thank him warmly before trudging back down the streets, It only takes fifteen minutes until you see the familiar glimmer of blue tile. The front dress asks if you are okay when you limp by, cut up feet on the brink of giving up themselves. The elevator is only filled with strangers, giggling and whispering to themselves.

Your floor is the home stretch. You peel off your heels; the front and backs of your feet are covered in broken skin, blood tinging the suede of your shoes. Bed is calling your name, along with another big, long, upheaving cry. The past month has left you brittle, weak-

“Hey. Hey!”

There’s a man in the hallway. Your man.

“Shouta?” Your voice is wrecked. Down by your room is the familiar face of your enemy, pacing the hall. A couple of wide steps and he’s there on you, hands finding your waist,dragging you in so close that his forehead bonks against yours. Tendrils of curls tickle your cheeks as he huffs in relief, warm breath hot against your nose and cheeks. Surprise leaves you speechless, but he finds words.

“Where were you?” His voice bites out, harsh and rude. “You weren’t answering your phone or the door, I thought-- You’re bleeding.”

If he wasn’t so close, you’d wipe your nose and tears away, but he has you locked in those broad hands. They rub up and down your waist, worrying away at you with an almost anxious annoyance.

“I’m an adult,” you sniffle despite your annoyance. “You don’t get to be mad at me for staying out late--”

“I’m not mad, I’m terrified.” You’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. The lacquer of seriousness is gone, replaced by something strangely human, wildly unique from the person you once knew. For the second time tonight, you think you see who he used to be, the silhouette of a twenty year old you’ll never know. “You can’t disappear into the city without contact-- you scared me.”

You know that fear. You’ve lived it. The way Touya comes and goes, the way he frays the fabric of your worries simply for his own wills and wants-

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“No, I’m sorry.” He’s pulling you closer. “I’m so sorry.”

When his lips touch yours, it feels like home. It’s impossibly soft and warm, with the glide of chapstick, but what you focus on is how you are held. He cradles you, with trembling, needy, questioning hands, firm with want, questioning if you want this too. You don’t know if you do until your arms loop around his shoulders and tug him in deeper, harder-

When he pulls away, you don’t know if this was the right thing, but it feels right, deep, deep, deep in your heart and even deeper in your core.

“I’m sorry,” he says again before pressing into you once more, this time with his whole body, walking you backwards into the door of your room, The pressure of him holds you in place.

“I’m so sorry.” Aizawa speaks it into your lips. You’re fumbling backwards, feeling in your pocket for your swipe card as his tongue dips into your mouth. He groans into the contact, low and animalistic, hungry and reverent. Every emotional nerve in you is fried and your brain is refusing to think, but something inside you is pink, blossoming with want. It’s the first time in maybe years you’ve felt this unbelievably, unquestionably good.

Aizawa’s teeth close around the plush of your lip and you gasp at the want it makes you feel alive. To be so aggressively wanted-

Your keycard finds the slot on the door and the lock beeps open. You manage to break away enough to fumble to knob open--

And you two slide inside.

408 notes · View notes

xosannie · 3 months ago

Text

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

#ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez oneshot #ateez #sub ateez #sub seonghwa #seonghwa smut #sub san #san smut #sub wooyoung #wooyoung smut #mommy k!nk #domme mommy

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