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roryculkinsbf · 4 months

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million dollar man // coriolanus snow

Description: Christmast Eve with breadwinner Coriolanus Snow, taking care of his future wife

TW: smut, dom!coryo, housewife!reader, controlling over the reader, praise kink

Word count: 1.5k

(English isn't my first language, and I do not own the characters)

One for the money,

two for the show,

I love you, honey,

I'm ready to go...

Round Christmas time everything seems a bit too busy, crowded streets and malls. People on every corner, not single free space to live. The world just turns that way as soon as November comes around. There's no exception for the chaos, not even in Capitol. City created and ruled by the cruel men who swore to be good, failing audibly after their proud hearts wished for power over ordinary human beings. Many rebels wished to tear this fucked up system down, district citizens buried themselves in fear and your boyfriend wasnt making it any better. A boy who once promised to destroy the bad, turned himself right into the dead void. Heart beating, blood pumping, but oh kindness faded by those who dared to doubt. He became a living corpse, only one who bring warmth into his existence was you. Each time you wanted to leave for better, you came running back. Something very wrong seemed like a drug in him, but before you could realize, your addiction became deadly. Merry Christmas, I guess?

"Morning, sweetheart," he splashed a kiss into your cheek. His hands grabbed you by your waist in a dominant manner. He kinda liked to show off his control, except not just kinda and mostly over you. "Morning, Coriolanus." Soft moan spilled into his mouth when he squeezed your little butt. You could hear as he kissed your neck, muffled words of "all mine". Normally you'd probably let him go on and bend you over the kitchen desk, but it was Christmas Eve today, and he simply has to wait.

"Not now, Coryo..s-stop..." you whimpered at the feeling of him taking the best of you. His hand was moving lower by the slowest pace posssible. His fingers slipped into your underwer, you closed your eyes. One single slick by your soft spot and suddenly he wasn't touching you at all.

When you opened your eyes, he was holding a cup and sipping the bitter-sweet liquid from it. Nothing about his expression mentioned the fact that you two almost did it. "What are you staring at, m'lady? It's you who told me to stop, remember? And you've got work to do anyway. Get into it, for me." He ordered with a smug grin not long before he walked to his office, ready to let you prepare for this whole day all by yourself. You were the housemaker afterall, not him. And you have to make sure your man is pleased, it's your job.

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"God Lord, Y/n...I've never eaten such a food in my life. That ham, and the mashed potatoes. Don't even get me started on the casserole, somehow you made me love green beans, princess. You're one hell of a cook, know I'm keeping you forever." There was simply no way to stop his praises. Damn well you knew you deserved them, you worked you ass off. The dishes you prepared were strange to you, yet familiar after each smile he gave you when he took the first bite. Seeing him fulfilled was all you needed.

"Thank you so much, Coryo. I made sure to prepare the best dinner I could manage, and as I see it payed off quite well, didn't it?" A warm smile filled your cheeks. He coudln't resist to reach his hand to your face, fingers delicately stroking your flushed skin. "Are you so red just for me, princess? You're such a pretty little sweet thing."

Kisses splanded all over your lips, washing you over with passion. His brain got foggy just from the pureness of you, the redness of your skin each second. Because as they passed, he kept pulling you closer and closer, until no forces could ever possibly seperate you. His arms held you, shield from blood and flesh, the good feeling of being protected and elogiezed by a man. You gave in. No one could ever have you as much as he did, you sure know that.

Rough lips bruised your neck, leaving tumescent spots for you to admire tomorrow. Long way along your collarbone, shoulders. You were becoming his each moment, the world belonged to you two and he rulled every way that Earth dared to orbit for you.

Part of the sky crashed when he rougly pushed you against the kitchen table. Your chin met a set of ceramic bowls fillled with food. Few glasses, wine and regular ones slipped when you pulled at the fancy cloth, what was shiny got poured over with all sorts of things. The great scent of food turned into a gross mess when a pot ringed as it hit the floor. Soup was flooding all over the dining room and you wanted to cry. No, you wanted to grab your shit-ass boyfriend by his shirt and choke him to death for daring to ruin hours of your hard work.

The sound of him rolling his eyes filled the room. "You're gonna clean that later, now be pretty and good for me. You know you can, darling." He massaged your ass under that mini skirt he made you wear. Big manly hand squeezed you until you felt incredibly helpless and small. He enjoyed he could boss you around, do anything to your tired body, play with you however he wanted to. And so he did.

"Let me get you dolled up." From his pocket he pulled a thin fabric, wasting no time he began twisting it around your thighs, legs, butt even. It was a red ribbon, you didn't even process when he layed it over your wet pussy.

"W-what's that for?" You couldn't understand. "Just...preparing a gift for myself, so fucking soft and all mine." He dropped right to his knees, as he pushed his face in between your butt cheeks. digging deep in he made a way across your pussy with his tongue. Somehow he was on you, in you. Digging into you, and you could feel heat all over yourself. His nails kept you in your place as he ate you out. Seeming like a starved man, he couldn't just get enough of his future wife. You were even more pressed against the table than before, nothing to muffle your moans against. Whispers echoed throughout the whole room, his pride and ego expanding with each sound.

"C-coryo..." You whimpered audibly. Closing your eyes so hard, shutting them in pleasure thinking they might not even ever open again. You couldn't stop grasping at the cloth, not until his face switched to two long fingers. He stood up and with one arm pinned you against himself, with other he got lost inside of you deep. "Shhh... princess, my pretty girl. You better get that pussy stretched out good, before I fuck you hm? Be good and let me prepare you for me, mkay?" Despite your body shaking you nodded to his words. You could hear him purr. "That's my girl."

More minutes passed, you felt already fucked out. Brain soggy and legs trembling, all wet from how much he overstimulated you. When he pulled out, he braught his hand to your face. "Taste yourself, love. Go on." With your tongue you licked all the silky substance off. Each lick drawn made his pants tighten even more. His dick was begging to be touched, to be taken care of.

Even if it embarassed you all too well, his will to be in charge and the bigger one just took over you. "Master, please... I... need you. S-so bad..." you whispered. Hot breath brushed around your neck. "Oh, I know you do, my princess." He unziped his pants. "You're always such a fuck-doll for me, sweetie." His dick slid out is boxers, standing in pride and arousal. "Want your master to fuck you pretty now?" He already teased your clit by fucking into the space between your thighs and pussy. "Mhm.." You whimpered. "Oh, but honey you know I need words. Tell me what you want and consider it done. Hm?" You sighed and breathed out all your self-respect into the heavy air with the words: "Yes, please fuck me, master. Deep and hard, I can take it all for you."

"Such a good girl," He whispered as his cock slipped right into you. Precum softened the first thrust, but the ones following braught your face to red. He couldn't help but smack at your bare flesh, like fucking you wide opened wasn't enough. Like he needed to feel you all around, in his hands, in his whole power. And fuck it, let's be honest, you liked that. Each firm thrust that just felt like a crack into your body, every hit, every moan that vocalized from his mouth, his thumb massaging your tiny clit. Surrounded by torturing pleasure, you let him make this the most unforgettable Christmas of all your lives.

#hunger games #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus x you #smut #writers on tumblr #coryo snow #president snow

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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Don't Speak 35

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: we got that xmas hangover.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You get to the bottom of your glass before you’re even done your sides. You pick at the white meat and smear it into the puddle of gravy that floods the plate. Each bite is better than the last, easing that tenuous knot in your stomach. You haven’t eaten like this in weeks.

“More wine?” Steve offers as he grabs the bottle again, topping up his own glass before gesturing to your own.

Andy clears his throat as you look up. For a moment, there was only you and the plate. A soft fog limns the edges of your vision and dampens your worries. You peek around as Amber leans in from your other side.

“I’ll take some more if there’s enough,” Amber shifts her glass over, a mouthful still in the belly, “it’s so good. I’ll have to take a picture of the label.”

Her arm touches yours. She’s giving you permission, more so encouraging you. Is it so bad to enjoy yourself? Even Andy said today is special. A little bit of wine isn’t so bad. You barely feel any different.

“Sure, I’ll… I’ll have a bit more, please.”

Andy sniffs but you refuse to look at him again. You caught the glint of his disapproval before. He’s never happy with anything you do unless it’s… that. Steve pours the golden wine into your glass, then Amber’s, only a small amount left in the bottom as he sets the bottle down.

You chew on a gristly portion of meat, the clink of cutlery filling the strained silence. Amber sighs and takes a drink, carefully placing the flat base of her glass on the table. She swallow as stirs her mashed potatoes.

“So, you said you were almost done your painting?” She begins, “I’ll have to check it out after dinner.”

“Mm,” Andy grumbles, “garage gets pretty cold this time of year.”

“I’ll put a coat on,” Amber shrugs, “I’d love to see what you’ve been working on. You know I always love your art. Actually…” you can tell she’s rambling, out of nervousness, but more to fill the lull, “I was hoping you might make me something, if you have the time.”

“I could…” you begin.

“She can give you a quote,” Andy intones curtly. Your eyes flick over to him, surprised. “Can’t make much off a hobby.”

“Oh, of course, I wouldn’t presume,” Amber says, “materials plus work.”

“I hate to overstep but I’d love to have a look as well,” Steve says.

Your eyes round and you nod, cheeks hot at the prospect of showing them. Your work is always so personal and this piece feels even more so. Your first major commission and it’s almost done. It’s a real accomplishment, how did you not see that before?

“Sure,” you gulp.

“After the banana pudding of course,” Amber insists, “save some room, bub.”

You smile as your stomach squeezes tight. If you eat much more, you won’t have room for dessert. You reach for your glass to wash down the stuffing. The wine makes you feel hollow, it gives you room for more.

“Lot of sugar,” Andy comments.

“It’s Thanksgiving,” Amber shrugs, “what’s a few extra calories? Besides, it's tradition.”

“Your tradition,” Andy snips.

“Well, if you don’t want any, more for us, right, bub?” She nudges you gently with her elbow.

You nod, “it’s my favourite.”

“Bub?” Andy scoffs, “she’s an adult.”

Amber sits back sharply and hovers her fork over her plate. She stares at Andy as he glares back. Tension roils between them.

“And I’m so proud of her,” her words drip with venom, "she’s come so far. Steve,” she looks at the therapist as he watches with arched brows, “thank you so much for all you’ve done for my sister. I see how far she’s come.”

“She’s a strong woman,” Steve leans on an elbow and lifts his glass, “she’s doing all the heavy lifting.”

Your chest flutters as you kick your legs in giddiness. The smile he aims at you takes your breath away. It feels good to have someone proud of you, but him? It’s amazing. You feel like you could do anything, that he truly believes that you can.

“Thanks,” you squeak and take another drink.

Andy huffs and sits back. Your gaze meets his as you swallow and pull the crystal rim away from your lip. You lick away the glisten of wine as he watches you. Your glee quickly dissipates as the heat of the alcohol mingles with the blaze of his chagrin. You’re almost annoyed by it.

Why can’t he just be happy? Everyone else is.

🕊️

“Good job,” Amber preens as you slice fresh banana, “whipped cream is ready.”

She lines up the four clear bowls on the counter as she stands beside you. She pulls close the bowl of banana pudding and spoons it into each. You can smell the banana-ey goodness. It makes your wine-coated stomach growl.

“Then some cream,” she dollops some of the whipped cream onto each, “and then,” she slides a bowl your way, “you can add as many slices as you like.”

You arrange five slices on the first bowl; one in the center and four around the edge. She passes the next bowl and you do the same. She adds a spoon to each and spins one in admiration.

“Alright, we’ll get it on the tray,” she declares.

You nod, stifling a yawn. Your eyes are itchy as the large meal weighs down your stomach. You could nap right then and there. The wine’s glimmery effect doesn’t help your state as you feel slightly off kilter after two and a half glasses.

She loads up the rectangle tray with the bowls, then pulls over a round one. She places the full teapot beside the coffee urn, then stacks four cups on it, alongside some spoons, the sugar bowl, and a small jug of dairy.

“You got that,” she gestures to the pudding.

You grab the tray and slide it to the edge of the counter. Your fingers loop through the slots in the side and you lift it, focusing on keeping it all steady. You smile as Amber balances the tray of drinks.

“You feeling okay?” She asks.

“Yes,” you chirp, “I’m excited for the pudding.”

She laughs and shakes her head, “always were easy to please.”

She leads you into the front room. The football game buzzes on as Andy sits with his chin in his hand, elbow on the armrest, and Steve stands by the mantel, playing with the signed baseball. It’s stolidly silent beneath the drone of sport commentators.

“Coffee, tea,” Amber places her tray on the low table, “and my famous banana pudding. Well, she did most of the work.”

She turns and smiles at you. You look around as you falter. You just stare dumbly, unsure of what to do next.

Steve makes you flinch as he approaches, “may I?” He waves a hand towards the tray in your arms. You nod and he takes one with a thanks. “Mmm, smells and looks delicious.”

He backs away, cradling the bowl with one hand as he stirs the spoon around. You turn awkwardly and march over to Andy. You offer the tray and his dull gaze drifts to you. He sits back and lets his arm fall straight over the armrest.

“I’m full,” he says.

You wince and look down. Oh. You just stand there.

“Here,” Amber comes up and touches your elbow, “let me get this.”

You spin, startled, and the bowls slide over the tray. One flips over the edge as Amber catches the tray and the pudding splatters onto the carpet around your feet. You squeak and look down as your sister takes the tray from your grasp. She sets it by the coffee and tea as you step back and gape at the mess.

“Jesus…” Andy sighs as he leans forward to take in the mess.

“Accidents happen,” Amber takes your hand and guides you away from the pudding, “no big loss…” she gets down to scoop up the globs with her bare hand back into the bowl, “you’re not having any and nothing broke.”

You look between them. Andy scowls as Amber is unbothered. She gathers up the sticky mess and stands.

“I’ll go grab some paper towel,” she says.

“That’s gonna be hard to get out,” Andy glowers at the carpet.

“I can get it out,” Amber assures, “don’t let me ruin dessert.”

She strolls out and you hear her clinking in the kitchen. She appears again with the roll of paper towel and a bowl of water. She gets down and starts her tedious work of trying to sop up the remnants.

“You know, it didn’t get too deep,” Amber says as she works.

You watch her and sway, putting a heel back to keep yourself steady. You cover your mouth and swallow a burp. Your sister looks up at your looming figure.

“Have some pudding, bub.”

You murmur, something indiscernible. It’s hard to move as you feel Andy watching you. You know you messed up again. That he’s upset. He won’t eat the pudding and now you’ve gone and made a mess.

You tremble as you feel an ache inside. For an instant, you feel smothered, as if you're being held down.

“It’s good,” Steve encourages as he shows half a banana slice on his spoon, “thanks, girls.”

You try to smile at him but can’t. Instead, you claim a bowl but your excitement is gone. You flop onto the couch, catching your spoon before it can tip over the edge, and rest the bowl in your lap. You’re going to be good and eat your pudding. You can’t get in trouble if you focus on that.

“She’s drunk,” Andy accuses as your spoon clacks loudly on the side of the bowl.

“She’s fine,” Amber insists as she wets the paper towel, “really, she had two glasses, she’ll survive.”

“She doesn’t drink,” he retorts.

“What number is that?” She glances at the green bottle by his elbow, “three? Four? You said it yourself, she’s an adult.”

He snarls, “do you always come into people’s houses and argue with them?”

She tuts and shakes her head. She says nothing though you see her response clenched in her jaw. She continues her work, drying up the patch with a folded square of paper towel before standing. She disappears into the kitchen and returns.

She grabs a bowl and sits between you and Andy. She leans over as you stir your pudding but don’t taste it. You’re embarrassed and your appetite is gone.

“Come on, bub, it’s your favourite,” she coaxes.

You sniffle, only then feeling the prick in your eyes. Andy’s right, you’re drunk. You don’t feel good. You’re dizzy and tired and you just want to hide.

“I’m sorry…” you babble.

“Aw, bub, it’s okay. You can always save it for later,” she assures you, “do you need some water?”

“I told you, you gave her too much wine–”

“Andrew,” Amber snaps as she whips her head around, “she’s fine. We’re fine. I got it.”

“Don’t talk to me like that. In my home,” Andy girds.

“Everyone, chill out,” Steve puts his empty bowl on the tray, “you’re both stressing her out. That’s all. She’s fine,” he nears the couch, “how about we get some fresh air, huh?”

Amber looks up at Steve, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t meaning to–”

“No, don’t be,” he assures as he gently takes the bowl from your hands, “it’s part of therapy. One of her exercises. She gets overstimulated.”

“Oh?” Amber looks at you and back to the doctor, “yeah, she… does.”

“I suggest the both of you take a few breaths as well,” he chuckles as he helps you stand, “we’ll be a couple minutes.” He touches your arm as you get to your feet, barely feeling your own body move, “hey, how about we get your coat on and go outside?”

Your eyes flick up and you nod blankly. You don’t really understand what he’s saying, you just know he wants to get you away from this. You wish they could just get along. You wish you didn’t cause all this trouble.

“I’m sorry, bub,” Amber says.

“You two,” Steve points at your sister then Andy, “talk this out.”

Silence, sweltering and suffocating pervades the room as the doctor leads you out. Only the television continues to blare as he stops you in the entryway and pulls a coat onto your shoulders. He gets down to lead your feet into your boots and then puts on his own.

He opens the front door and shuffles you outside. The autumnal air sweeps around you and you pull the coat snug against the shiver that rolls through you. You look down as a swell of woodsy scent tickles your nostrils. It’s his coat. It’s loose on you but warm.

You look up at Steve as he stands, unaffected in the thick wool of his sweater. He puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, “tough day.”

“I… I am drunk,” you admit.

“That’s fine,” his hand trails down your arm, “you’re allowed to indulge, sweetheart. And a day like this, who wouldn’t?”

“He’s mad,” you say.

“Let him be.”

“But…”

“The both of them are too stubborn for their own good. They both love you but they can’t see past that. They shouldn’t be fighting for your love, they need to share it,” he runs his hand back up as you teethe your lip. He touches your cheek, the warmth of his fingertips making you shudder, “but I can’t blame them. You’re a special girl, who wouldn’t want all of you?”

You bat your lashes up at him. Huh? You don’t know what he means, but it feels good. Everything he says is just so wonderful.

He smiles at you, his fingertips dancing along your jaw. You gaze up at him, hypnotized by his deep blue eyes. In that moment, you feel drawn to him, magnetized by his touch. He steps closer and you quiver again. His eyes fall to your legs as you rub them together, the cold wind gusting up your short skirt.

“Oh, you must be freezing,” he drops his hand back to your shoulders, “you’d be much cozier in one of your cute little sweaters huh?”

You nod, dumbly. You can’t speak. You can only think about the weight of his large hand on his shoulder. You think about the vibrator in your drawer…

“Here, you need this,” he surprises you as he pulls you close, embracing you against the chill, “it’s amazing what a good hug can do.”

You stand stiff and stunned. His scent rises from his sweater and from the coat around your shoulders. You’re consumed by it and the heat rippling off of him. You let yourself sink into him, bending your arms slowly to hug him back. Something you’ve never really done with anyone but Amber.

“It’ll be okay, sweetheart,” he coos as he rocks you, “you’re doing really good. Don’t let them ruin all your hard work.” He pets your head and nuzzles your hair, “you’re a very good girl,” he purrs, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Dr. Kemp,” you press your cheek against his chest and close your eyes, a smile dimpling into your cheeks.

“Alright, so you keep being good for me, sweetheart,” he strokes down the back of your neck, “when we go back in, you’re going to be strong, right?”

“Yes, doctor,” you murmur.

“Good girl,” he praises again, gently releasing you and leaving you even colder than before, “I know you care about both of them but remember, you can tell them no.” He drags his hand around you frame your face, “I think they need to hear it.” He drops his hand, turning his palm up as he turns halfway back to the door, “ready?”

You reach for his hand and squeeze it, facing the suburban facade, “I’m strong,” you repeat, “I’m gonna be good.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #steve kemp #defending jacob #fresh #au #library au #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #don't speak #series

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emeritusemeritus · 9 months

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Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight. Pt 8.

[Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley]

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Title: Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Timeline: Predominately set between GOF and OOTP (some canon has been altered to fit the story)

Summary: Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins. How will she decide who to chose in the end? Amortentia might be able to help, or not.

Warnings: Smut, oral sex, p in v sex, 69’ing, established relationships, threesomes, friends to lovers, all the good stuff. NO Twincest. Mentions of illness, Brief mentions of vomiting. Tiny bit of angst, possessiveness, talk of kids. Mentions of dominant behaviour. Snape has a soft spot for reader. Love potions? But none are actually used. Not beta-read nor spell checked, we die like Sirius ❤️

The Freddie smut train isn’t stopping 🌹

George returned a little while later, taking a suspiciously long time in the shower which you didn't doubt had been organised by Fred.

"Are you both decent?" He asked as he crept in, smiling at seeing that you were both now clothed and sat on the bed laughing.

"Reckon tea will be ready soon," George says, hopping onto the bed, now clean and redressed. He immediately pulls you into his arms, getting the cuddles you'd promised earlier as you absently draw shapes onto the skin of his arm with your finger as you all chat until Molly calls you for tea.

You all sit and chat as you eat, Fred, Harry and Ron all celebrating their win from earlier in the day. Molly has made a heap of mashed potato, steak and onion pies and veg which you excitedly tuck into, knowing how much you'll miss her cooking when the week comes to an end. It was Hermione's last day at the burrow tomorrow before she went home to her parents and so you were all trying to think of something you could do tomorrow, gathering ideas or group activities but not quite deciding anything.

Fred looks increasingly fidgety throughout dinner, which made you glance at him questioningly a few times. It wasn't entirely uncharacteristic for him to be squirmy and hyper but this seemed different, like he couldn't wait to get away from the table. Once the meal had been had, you and both twins make your way up to their bedroom with Fred immediately fluttering round the room grabbing random things and slinging them into a little shopping bag he'd knicked from Molly.

"You'll probably need a sweater princess, want one of mine?" He asks as he delves into the drawers, not waiting for an answer as he pulls out a green knitted jumper with a big 'F' on the front in gold lettering. You gladly accept and look down at what you're wearing, suddenly wondering if they're suitable.

"Fred, do I need to get changed?" You ask, making him pause briefly as he looks at you up and down.

"No princess, though if you want to wear less I'd have no qualms," he smirks before returning to his digging. You roll your eyes and turn your gaze to George who is lay on the bed reading. You slink into bed beside him and without ever taking his gaze off the page, he opens up his arm for you to cuddle into his side.

"Gonna miss you," you whisper in his ear, quiet enough so Fred wouldn't hear. You see him smile and turn to you as his hand creeps down to reach your bum, giving it a little pat.

"You already know I'll miss you," he smiles, pressing a kiss to your head.

"Right! Princess if you would like to follow me," Fred says, standing beside the bed and offering his elbow to you like a man in an old fashioned movie. You giggle and stand to grab his elbow, casting one last glance back at George before you slip out of the door and down the stairs, following Fred until he leads you out of the house.

"Where are we going?" You ask, your arms still gripping his arm as he guides you. He looks over at you with a smirk and winks, not disclosing anything.

You follow the familiar path up to the back field, praying that he wasn't going to make you play quidditch.

When you got to the field, he pulled the bag off his wide shoulders and pulled out a large picnic blanket and laid it on the floor as he knelt down, gesturing for you to take a seat.

"Okay my princess, we have a blanket, some candles, some beer and."

"Where did you get that?" You interject, laughing as he pulls out two bottles of beer from the bag, no doubt stolen from Arthur's stash. He gives you a wicked smile and leans in to pull you into a kiss, both of you giggling as your lips meet. He then lights the candles around you and reaches into the bag to pull out a little box.

"Okay we have Weasley's whizzbangs, whizzfire bangs, whammy rockets and miraculous mystic mayhem makers," Fred smiles as he pulls out a selection of fireworks from the bag, all tried and tested Weasley products they'd been developing.

"Putting on a show for me handsome?" You flirt, looking at the selection of explosives in front of you.

"Sweetheart, I'm constantly putting on a show for you, have been since second year," he admits with a little chuckle, making you laugh.

You actually end up sitting and talking for the majority of the night, reminiscing about previous pranks you'd all pulled and memories together over the years as you sip on stolen beer. You were both lay on the blanket, your head on his chest as you looked up towards the stars, feeling at peace.

"You're so beautiful," Fred says suddenly, making you turn to face him. Instead of a teasing smirk that you'd expected, he actually looks a little bashful with a smile tugging at his lips. You blush at the sudden intimacy and lean up to kiss him. The kiss starts off slowly and playfully but in no time you are beginning to rut against each other, hands wandering and little breathless gasps falling between your lips in between the passionate kisses.

Something changes in you immediately like a switch had been flicked and you needed to feel him on you, in you, however you could get him, surrendering to the intense desire that Fred always seemed to pull from you.

You began tugging at his sweater, needing to get it off his body to feel him. As he sat up slightly, you immediately began attacking his brown, woven belt to get to what you really wanted.

"What's your rush princess? You need me?" He asks, his hand coming up to grab the side of your face, long fingers tangling into your hair as he feverishly kisses you. You nod and a little whimper falls from your throat without realising as you carry on trying to undress him, the lust you felt becoming a burning need.

Fred pulled off his sweater and T-shirt, leaving him in just his trousers which were quickly pulled down as soon as you'd worked his belt.

"A little unfair don't you think sweetheart?" He smirks, pulling your body to his, your hips meeting as you feel the growing bulge in his underwear against your thigh. He immediately pulls off the sweater and top you're wearing, gasping and growling as he realises that you aren't wearing a bra, your naked breasts spilling out. He immediately latches onto your nipple with his mouth, feasting on the feverish skin as his other hand grabs hold of your neglected breast and toys with the nipple. Your hips chase his at the overwhelmingly pleasurable sensation as he sucks and nips at your pebbled nipples.

"Fred," you groan, throwing your head back as he sucks little lovebites into the side of your breast, never neglecting the nipple as his tongue switches back and forth, devouring your aching breasts.

"That's it princess, tell me who makes you feel this good," Fred smirks, pushing your breasts together to pay attention to them both. "Such perfect tits," he mumbles as he dives right back in.

Your hands begin to wander on his body, running down his smooth abdomen until you reach the little fuzz of his happy trail and the waistband of his boxers. You slip your hand into his underwear and immediately reach for his big, swollen length earning a loud growl from Fred as you wrap your hand around him. He breaks apart from your breast just for a second to pull down his underwear, exposing his perfect cock and balls to you, allowing you to toy with him without restriction.

You slowly begin to move your hand on his cock, tugging and gliding gently just how he likes, causing a broken moan of your name to fall from his lips. He bends his neck to reach down and kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth as it wrestles with your own, the sensual glide making you squeeze your legs together to relieve some tension. Fred misses nothing and immediately moves his hands to your jeans to tug them off. You reluctantly let go of his length to let him pull off your jeans and panties in one go. He then pulls off his boxers the rest of the way and slings them away, leaving you both completely naked and exposed.

A single moment passes as you look at each other, your eyes wandering all over his perfect body, really trying to commit it to memory as you look at him with sheer adoration.

He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips, smirking against them as his hand begins to trail up your thigh with teasingly delicate touches which only fuel the fire within you further.

His hand meets your wet folds as his fingers slip beneath them, earning a groan from him as he discovers just how wet you are.

"Is all of this for me princess?" He smirks.

You nod, desperately trying to buck your hips so he'll touch you more, chest heaving already at the sensation.

"Have you been thinking about this sweetheart? About how my big cock is going to stretch you out? Filling you up just right."

"Fuck, Fred yes!" You moan as his long, talented fingers slip inside you, curling up to hit that special spot that makes you keen.

"There it is princess, fuck you're so hot, can't wait to get my cock in you," he says as he leans back down, attacking your breasts once again as he works his fingers in and out of you. You immediately reach for his cock and begin pumping him, making deliciously lewd noises fall from his mouth.

"Come here sweetheart," he suddenly says pulling away, gesturing for you to sit up. He moves you and positions you into a similar fashion to what you'd done that afternoon but instead of being on top of him, you are laid on the blanket in opposite directions whilst facing each other.

His cock is right in front of your face, flushed pink and leaking precum already, just begging to be sucked. Fred parts your legs with his big hands and moves to rest his head on your thigh, wrapping the other one over his shoulder as he kisses your pussy lips, teasing you. You buck your hips, trying to get more than just butterfly kisses and he immediately reaches up to spank your ass, causing you to let out a gasping moan.

His hand comes up to spread your little lips and he begins giving little kisses to your sensitive clit, swirling his tongue teasingly around the exposed nub as you gasp.

You can't hold back any longer and grab hold of his cock at the base, squeezing gently before wrapping your lips around his cock, swirling your tongue devilishly around the fat head, licking up all the little beads of precum. Fred immediately moans out your name and begins feasting on your cunt perfectly, both of you trying your hardest to please the other. Your paces are slow and unhurried, trying to tease and please the other to give the most pleasure you can.

You can feel your orgasm building as your hips undulate over his face. He moans, sensing your impending release and strokes your thighs as he begins wildly sucking on your clit, tugging gently and licking over the spot repeatedly as his pace increases, keeping perfect rhythm until you cum.

You have to pull off his cock as a loud moan erupts from you, your body completely at the mercy of his as your climax takes over, the white hot flames burning you from the inside out as you shout if his name.

"Fucking hell princess," he gasps, stroking your thighs as you come down from your high, a blissful smile plastered on your face. "So hot when you cum."

Fred leans up and moves to lie beside you again, smiling and kissing you as he sees your little blissful, fucked out smile and heavy eyelids.

"Want you Freddie, please," you moan, reaching for his cock again.

"One time not enough sweetheart? Or do you need my big cock?"

"Need it Freddie, please," you beg, completely overwhelmed by the emptiness you felt, needing to be filled by him.

"I've got you sweetheart," he cooes, pulling you closer to him so that your bodies are directly facing each other. He kissed you passionately, hands wandering as they slip down to your ass again. He squeezes and massages the skin of your ass before reaching down to grab your leg and hitch it over his hip. You gasp at the sudden feel of his heavy length pressed against your pussy, just begging for entry.

You reach down and hold his cock steady at the base before rolling your hips just right so that he sinks into your wet heat, both of you gasping and moaning in sync as the bliss of him stretching you out.

"Oh princess, so tight for me," he gasps, thrusting deeper inside of you until every inch of him was buried inside, making you breathless. "Oh you feel perfect princess, so fucking good."

He begins to thrust in and out and you have to hold back your loud moans which you're sure could be heard all the way back at Hogwarts.

You begin to roll your hips in time with his thrusts and you both immediately cry out at the sensation as you fuck yourself on his cock. His hands come up to grab at your ass, guiding your movements, helping you to roll your ass back and forth as he fucks you deep.

"Fuck Freddie, so good, you're so deep," you moan out as the angle of his cock presses hard against your g-spot with each harsh thrust.

"Princess, y/n," he moans, "not gonna last, you feel so fucking good."

"Cum Freddie, please, want you to cum inside me!"

He begins brutally thrusting into you, abandoning your hip movements as his hands dig deliciously into the skin as he grips you hard. His groans and moans mix with yours as he sets a brutal pace, fucking into you with abandon as he nears his end. He suddenly grips you bruisingly hard and slams your hips down onto him one last time, holding your body tight to him as he buries himself as deep as he can. His face scrunches up deliciously as he cums, the blistering hot cum shooting deep into you as his hands keep you firmly in place as your walls clench around him, another orgasm surprising you and taking over your senses.

As the climax slowly begins to wear off, Fred's grip loosens and he slowly rubs the skin where his hands have been to soothe it. He looks up at you with a wide smile and leans down to press a sweet and gentle kiss to your lips as your hands run over his chest.

"Didn't even need the fireworks," he quips as he leans his forehead on yours. You laugh, causing your muscles to contract around him where he's still inside you and you hear him let out a little gasp of over sensitivity. He slowly pulls out, limp cock now resting between you in his thigh as you both take a few moments to catch your breath before untangling yourselves .

"You never needed fireworks to get me into bed... or the ground I guess," you laugh, sitting up and reaching for your clothes. He smiles, watching you dress with a tenderness that made butterflies spread within you.

"You know, it would be a shame to waste these," he says, sitting up and fiddling with the magical fireworks.

"Alright big boy, clothes on first though," you laugh, chucking his T-shirt towards him. You were surprisingly warm and so opted not to wear the sweater, staying in a T-shirt and your jeans as Fred quickly dressed and started preparing the whizz bangs.

You couldn't help but watch him as he moved with proficiently, seeing him in his element of causing mischief as he lined up the whizzbangs.

Moments later, the enchanted fireworks erupted in the sky with a resounding bang, illuminating the entire sky with a prism of colour. One of the particular fireworks turned into a dragon midair and began circling around the rest of the explosions in the most spectacular sight you'd ever seen.

You sneaked a look at Fred's face seeing him smiling in utter delight which made you feel so proud of him and George at their incredible inventions, forever thankful that you could always get a firsthand show.

When the ash settled, the familiar scent of gunpowder and settling smoke overwhelmed your senses and took you back to the potions classroom, smelling the Amortentia. The scent was so unmistakable, like the smell of an extinguished candle with a little more dry smokiness and a lingering musky that was entirely Weasley's wizzbangs.

"Y/n?" Fred asks, bringing your attention back to him. You realised that whilst you had been spaced out, he'd tied away the leftovers from the fireworks and was now lay back on his elbows with his long legs crossed at the ankle, watching you. "Where did you go pretty girl?"

"Nowhere important," you smiled, lying down with him as you looked back at the Burrow, seeing a couple of lights still on throughout the house. A sense of dread suddenly overwhelmed you. "No one can see us right?"

He laughed and shook his head, "only window that looks out back here is mine and George's," he explains with a smirk, "think he was watching?"

"Fred!" You laughed, hitting his chest at the thought.

"Think he was taking notes on how to please a woman?" He laughs and you nudge him again, throwing him off balance of his elbows, forcing him down. "You didn't argue it, he really that bad?"

"Merlin no, just didn't think you'd want to know all the details about how your twin brother pleases me and how he likes when I-"

""Alright I get the point," he says quickly, pulling a disgusted face at the idea. You had to chuckle as you settled back onto the blanket, sprawling your legs back as you looked up at the stars.

You sneaked a glance over at Fred who was doing the same as you with his eyes closed as he relaxed and thought back to all the times you'd tried to sneak glances at him over the years without him noticing. It was one of those moments when you realised how incredibly lucky you were to have not only Fred but George too, for however long you could have them.

The whizzbang smoke had brought back memories of the Amortentia incident and had stirred something up inside you which was eating away at your happiness, never truly knowing who it was you desired more.

When you and Fred were alone together, it was easy. You'd liked him for years, daydreamed and fantasised about him every chance you could, even so much as scribbling his initials in little notebooks in your younger years like any good schoolgirl would. You'd fantasised of your life together if he ever reciprocated your feelings, your wedding, your future children, all a distant but hopeful thought. It should be easy really, he liked you back and for that you were eternally grateful.

You'd been best friends for years, even closer than you and George had been and it was constantly exciting and passionate, like everyday was a new relationship but without all the awkwardness of learning about each other. Your mischievous best friend turned boyfriend, the constant prank master and joker, always the ringleader; he kept you on your toes at all times, bringing joy and laughter to your life like no other. Your relationship was filled with teasing and witty banter that you hope never faded and you were almost certain that you loved him, and had for a long time.

But then there was George. A prankster and joker at heart but with a stronger conscience and greater moral compass. He was sensitive and kind, at-least more often than Fred tended to be and he was comforting, above all else. George made you feel secure and loved. He was the personification of that feeling after a long, stressful day when you finally got home and could relax, putting on your cosiest, comfiest clothes and shutting out the world as you sought comfort. You'd never anticipated falling for him so hard and just like his brother, you were near certain that you were falling in love with him, if you weren’t already fully there. How were you ever going to chose between them?

"Your thoughts are loud," Fred says and you can hear the smirk in his voice.

"Sorry," you say, turning your attention back to him, "I think I'm just tired."

"Want to go to bed sweetheart?" He asks tenderly, placing his hand on your thigh. You had to admit that going to bed did sound very appealing right now, but you didn't want to cut the cut your little date short.

"Not just yet Freddie," you say, leaning back against him. He hums and extends his arm out to you so that you can lean on it.

"Love when you call me that," he says bashfully, touching the braids on your head as he brushes away the little wisps in your face. You smile up at him and immediately your mind, filled with problems and negative thoughts is calmed and quiet again.

You decide to head in not too long after, throwing everything back into the shopping bag and walked back to the house. You managed to sneak in undetected and immediately head up to the twins' shared bedroom, carefully avoiding the creaking stairs whilst trying not to wake anyone, if they'd been able to sleep through the fireworks at least.

Upon entering the room, you noticed that George had in fact made himself scarce and wouldn't be sleeping here tonight, his pillows gone from the bed. You briefly thought of asking Fred but it was his night with you and you didn't want to bring up any potential conflict. Fred had gone to the toilet and so you took the opportunity to take off your makeup with a wipe and get dressed.

You tossed the jumper in your arms over to the washing hamper and shimmied out of your jeans, replacing them with your sleep shorts. Your T-shirt was switched out to one of Fred's old ones that you kept and you dragged yourself into bed, your tiredness from the night before hitting you like the hogwarts express.

When Fred strolled back into the room, he smiled at seeing you in bed. He tore off his clothes, opting to just sleep in his boxers and climbed into bed behind you. It was strange sleeping without George but you didn't fixate on it, you just hoped that wherever he was, he didn't feel pushed out or alone.

Fred's arm immediately falls over your waist, falling just underneath your breasts as he pulls you tightly to him so that his body is directly connected to your back.

"How do you fit so perfectly in my arms?" He whispers into your ear, musing at the near perfect fit of your body in his. It was true; you suspected that his height versus yours had a lot to do with it but you fit neatly into the plains of his body. Your ass was pressed against his crotch whilst his arm reached perfectly with the curve of your waist, your head slotted right under his head to rest against his chest whilst his arms encased you.

"Maybe you just fit perfectly around me," you smiled into the dark room, feeling him squeeze you tighter at your words.

"Did you have a good time tonight princess?" He asks quietly and you can sense a slight hint of vulnerability in his tone.

"The best Freddie," you answer honestly, "atleast, the fireworks were great." He immediately grabs you and begins tickling your ribs as you fight back, squirming and struggling to hold in your squeals at the horrendous sensation.

"Oh I see how it is, I give you some of my best work and all she remembers is the bloody pyrotechnics," he says dramatically, causing you to roll your eyes.

"It was perfect Fred, every bit," you say quietly, no longer playing around. You twist slightly in his arms to seek out his lips, placing a kiss of sheer gratitude on him.

"This is really nice," Fred says after a few moments of comfortable silence. You hum in agreement, enjoying the peace and the feeling of his arms securely wrapped around you. "One day we'll be able to do this every night," he says, sounding as if he's narrating his thoughts. "When school is over and me and George have opened the shop, you can move in with us and every single night I'll kiss you goodnight and hold you until you fall asleep."

"That sounds perfect," you say with a yawn, feeling as if you could fall asleep within mere seconds.

"And every morning I'll bring you a cup of tea in bed and kiss you before I leave for work," he adds, clearly daydreaming though he sounds increasingly more tired with each word. "You can help me pick out my tie, checking that it matches with my suit. Did I tell you me and George decided we'd wear full suits at the shop? Like real businessmen. Anyway, you'd pick out my tie and straighten it for me before I leave because you know I always leave it wonky."

He tiredly mumbles out more of his dreams and secrets to you in the still, dark room but you don't hear them, having fallen sound asleep, comforted by the sound of his voice as it acts like your own personal lullaby.

#emeritusemeritus #fred weasley #fred weasley x you #harry potter #fred weasley x reader #emeritusemerituswrites #fred weasley imagine #george weasley x you #george weasley #fred weasley masterlist #george weasley x reader x fred weasley #weasley twins x reader #george weasley smut

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cookiesuga55 · 26 days

Note

If you take requests, maybe Jungkook wants to get fatter so he asks obese Namjoon for advice? And he helps him grow even fatter than him and they’re super into each other but scared to let each other know cause they’ve been only friends for so long… >_<

Anonie I LOVE YOUR BRAIN

pls DM me so we can be friends PLS <333

~~~~~~~

Jungkook didn't even know who he could go to about his new... desire.

He looks down and nibbles on his lip. The fabric of his shirt is pulled tightly around the soft, thick swell of chub that is now his middle. A round, plump belly bulges up and out of his jeans and begs to droop down over the tight waistline. Jungkook tentatively brings his trembling hands to his tummy and gently pushes in his fingers. They sink deeply into the supple padding that's heavily rounding him out. An embarrassing sound slips out of him as he watches his belly pudge out around the deep dimples where his fingers slowly rub in. Something about the soft fluff in his hands is so addicting...

Jungkook whimpers in the safety of his room as he sits on his bed and squeezes his hands to feel the chub thickening inside of him.

He had been eating more than normal, that much he knew. It was a combination of exhaustion from work and growing cravings that led him to collapse onto his couch every night and lazily order food while he relaxed. Anything that he could get quick and easy for delivery in the city sufficed. Fried rice and sticky sweet orange chicken. So much pizza. Southern pork and creamy mashed potatoes. Butter chicken and fresh, fluffy naan bread. American burgers and fries. Crispy, delicious soondae sausages and spicy tteokbokki. Greasy Döner kebabs. Stuffed tacos and fajitas. Loaded nachos. Creamy, cheesy pasta. So many different cuisines and oversized meals fit for two every night. Jungkook had gobbled it all down. And he usually followed it with multiple scoops of ice cream while mindlessly watching television.

Now that Jungkook thinks about it. He's eaten a lot. No wonder he's gotten so fat. Jungkook was always on the thicker side, even as a kid. He teetered the line of chubby for so long, that Jungkook had long ago accepted his soft, wide body as part of who he was. But he's always been strong to balance it out. He exercises. He loves exercising! It's just... he hasn't had time, for a few months now? Has it really been that long?

Jungkook experimentally squeezes his thighs which used to be thick and meaty. They squish heavily under his hands, feeling warm and fluffy, just like his middle. He crosses his arms to assess his biceps and they're the same. Fluffy teddy bear arms.

Jungkook's cheeks heat up with something similar to embarrassment, but borderline yummy and warm. He didn't realize that all of his muscle had melted away and was slowly replaced with chub and thick, pudgy padding.

He's filled out so much. Jungkook's eyes flick back down to his belly, unable to stay away from such a pretty sight. His middle is pushed out round and soft, despite Jungkook's hunger. The bloated-looking curve of his tummy bulges into a lush pool of fat that is so, so close to settling in his lap... Jungkook leans forward an inch and all of the heft spills forwards, resting on his round thighs. Jungkook whines again and admires the warmth sitting fattened in his lap. It's so comforting. So addicting. His hands gently pet down the swell and he experimentally pinches the plump roll at the bottom, curious about how many pounds of chub are really sitting inside of his belly. It must be even more than he thinks? There's just... so much of him filling his own hands. So much soft skin. So much weight.

Fuck- Jungkook is so soft. He feels so pudgy and round and so fucking... good. Jungkook feels so good.

Jungkook's cock is already borderline fully-hard, and the fact that it's pushing up into the weighty bottom of his belly just keeps the blood flowing down and accelerating the problem.

Jungkook needs advice, and there's only one person that he could turn to. There's only one person that he knows who likes getting fat.

Jungkook needs Namjoon-hyung. He needs to tell him everything.

~~~

"Oh, Jungkookie- my sweet little Piggy~"

Jungkook blushes hard at the name. He needs to circle back to that, but Namjoon is still talking, opening up an app on his phone. Of course Namjoon was the right person to talk to about this. His hyung has been gaining on purpose for years, now approaching 400 pounds. He would know what to do. Namjoon has always been a good listener. They're sitting on the couch together, and like always, Jungkook sinks into Namjoon's huge side from his massive hyung being so heavy. Jungkook pants slightly from pouring out everything about how he feels, about how he likes the weight. Being squished into Namjoon's own bulk isn't really making it any better. Or maybe it is. Maybe it's making it a lot better...

"Let me introduce you to the gateway drug for fattening up your cute little starter-kit belly." Namjoon's big thick hand moves to rest right on the swell of Jungkook's middle and he pats him, just like Jungkook is a chubby puppy begging for scraps.

Jungkook bites down on his lip to keep himself from whining. He squeezes his thighs tightly but it does little good. His belly gives a soft, plump jiggle underneath Namjoon's paw-like hand, and the older gauges his reaction just to grin at him. "Look at you! So adorable. Trying not to cum just from a little tummy praise- You're going to be such a good fatty, Jungkookie. It's good you came to hyung. I can help you grow." Namjoon's sausage fingers pat Jungkook's belly again as he grins at him, and Jungkook whines in protest. His chubby cheeks heat up even more, threatening to catch fire as pleasure blooms in the pit of his stomach.

"Hyung!--"

The older cackles, but he leaves his fat hand resting on Jungkook's middle. He gives the pudge a little squeeze and then begins rubbing slow circles. Jungkook wants to melt- it feels so good. His chub bulges out between Namjoon's fingers when he inhales, and it dimples deeply as it's rubbed, following his touch. Another little whine escapes him as he stares down at his belly being rubbed, transfixed. Namjoon thankfully is a good hyung, and he doesn't make fun of Jungkook for his embarrassment or for being so turned on by something as simple as a belly rub.

Namjoon draws Jungkook's attention back to his phone with a smile.

"This is my favorite restaurant. My secret weapon. I swear, you'll chub right up if you start eating here-"

Jungkook reads the name out loud, and his cheeks heat up all over again. "B-Belly Busters...?"

Namjoon snorts at the waver in his voice, and he gives Jungkook's tummy a gentle smack so he jiggles again. Jungkook is sure that he's just teasing him now. "That's right. The food is so fucking heavy and fattening that it'll bust your belly. I swear by this place. Hyung promises, you'll wake up feeling all yummy and thickened up in the morning if you fill up on this stuff-"

Jungkook curiously glances at the menu on Namjoon's phone, failing horribly to ignore the heat bubbling in him at the calorie count listed next to each item. "H-hyung, this is more than I should have in a week..."

Namjoon just grins at him, clearly so fucking pleased at sharing this gem of knowledge. "Hyung will help, Kookie. Your first stuffing is on me. Pick whatever you want for dinner. What do you want to fill your cute little belly with?" Jungkook turns back to the phone, blushing down his chest underneath his shirt by how Namjoon is talking so casually about all of this. About how gaining weight is like a hobby. Namjoon's large hand is still resting on his pudgy middle and slowly rubbing, and it makes Jungkook want to whimper again.

He adds the first thing he sees to the cart, a monsterous burger and fries, dripping with grease and sauce. It honestly looks like it might make his gut swell until he pops if he eats it all. The portions are massive. Namjoon nods in approval, then adds bacon to Jungkook's order. "An extra patty for you... And you'll want to add on the onion rings. You need one of these milkshakes too! They're so fucking delicious-"

Jungkook's eyes bulge as he sees the calorie count of just his milkshake, which is apparently a necessity. "W-what's in it to make it that high?" Namjoon just shrugs and adds a banana one for Jungkook, and a vanilla one for himself.

"Does it matter? It's delicious and creamy and so fucking fattening. You're gonna love it." Jungkook's mouth waters as he looks down at himself. He imagines those thousands of calories inside of his tummy. Waking up visibly fatter sounds like a dream.

"Okay." He gulps. His belly is so hot underneath Namjoon's hand. "Okay. I'm so in, hyung. I want to try this so badly."

Namjoon pets his other hand through Jungkook's hair and all but cooes as he places their order for delivery. Jungkook receives another belly pat like he's being praised for agreeing to eat up what Namjoon is going to feed him. Fuck-

He didn't even see what Namjoon ordered for himself, but somehow the bill rose to nearly the amount that Jungkook spends on his groceries for an entire week.

"We're going to stuff you tonight until you're pinned under your gut and mewling for belly rubs, Kookie. I can't wait to see how you feel. I hope you love it so much."

Jungkook's thighs squeeze again. Namjoon smiles at him with his doubled chins bulging and his eyes twinkling as he gropes Jungkook's soft belly. It makes him feel like Namjoon is measuring how much he squishes in his hands, like he's taking note of all of the softness inside of him. Like he is gauging where Jungkook is at, so he can assess how much he grows while eating. So he can measure just how full his belly can stretch. So he has a starting point to see how much this one stuffing will affect his waistline tomorrow. So he can see how fat Jungkook gets overnight. Fuck fuck fuck.

"Fuck, I'm going to cum tonight-" Jungkook blurts out. His mind is so full of thoughts that should be illegal. Namjoon laughs so heartily with delight that his gelatinous gut shakes.

"If you don't, I've failed."

#bts fanfic #tummy kink #chubby jungkook #HUGE namjoon #sugar cookie #<3 #namkook

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untitledinstinct · 2 months

Note

What’s an ultimate fantasy you have ☺️

So... I have agoraphobia...

I don't leave the house unless absolutely necessary.

When I order food, I don't even go out the door, just reach through it.

There's been instances where I don't fit as well as I used to, like walking down the center isle of a bus... my hips have to weave and sway side to side between people.

I want to have a date night, twice a year where we actually leave the house, and do all the things I used to, to see me struggle through it.

Let's go into the city for our date night.

First, I need to eat. A lot. I mean... I'll need my strength to get through this. You can only fit so many protein bars in your backpack.

Then we waddle over to the local bus stop, pausing every few houses to catch my breathe... maybe I shouldn't have had that much... I feel my stomach, and while a little swollen, it still soft and doughy.

The bus arrives, it's busy. We need to go towards the back. My hips get caught gently on the first two seats I pass, and I start weaving my hips a little.

It's been months since I've been on, that's new. So is the amount I'm jiggling just from riding in the bouncier end of the bus - I'm feeling every ripple.

We get to the train station, and the train isle is a little narrower.... I have to lift my arms above the seats to get by.

We get situated, you sitting across from me so we're face to face, and you point out that I'm taking up nearly half of the seat beside me. - you chose to sit across from me to watch every ripple the jolting of the train makes in my stomach, at one point recording it.

We get into the city, and get ready to leave the station, only to notice exactly how much smaller those turnstiles are than the last time....

Everyone around us going through easily - only a few having to turn slightly.

You walk through.

My turn.

I have to turn sideways, suck my gut in as much as a can, and squish-and-lift it with my hand as I shuffle my way through.

I let it all go with a deep gasp.

I didn't get stuck. This time. Not going to be long though...

We get into the heart of the city, and quickly find me something to eat. It was a long 2h trip, and that shuffle I had to do to get through the turnstile took a lot out of me.

We walk around the city, being regular tourists, and making sure I have a snack between every activity we do.

I'm nicely bloated, and round by the time we get to the hotel. We check in, and I flop on the bed, springs creaking.

We decide what we'll be properly stuffing me with, from room service. We place an order large enough for 4 or 5 people, and start up a movie...

You grabbed a shower first, while I find something to watch, then when I'm in the shower, the food arrives. You set it out and I see the almost overwhelming amount, knowing you'll likely only snack on whatever you're feeding me, having also had a big (for you) dinner.

I lay down, and we set to the feast.

The next day, early afternoon, we go to a local grocery store, to load up of what we can.

Cake

Pie

Roast chicken

Mashed potatoes

Potatoes wedged

Cheesecake

Fruit smoothies

A couple different tubs of icecream.

With plans to order taco bell and a pizza.

That's the rest of our day.

Eating/feeding, snuggling, making out, playing around.

I wanna see how firm we can make my bloated stomach

Don't forget.

Tomorrow, I still won't have digested all of this, and have to squeeze back through that turnstile to get us back home....

Let make them open the gate for me.

Since that happens about twice a year, the rest of the year I spend inside. I want to get big enough that I just make it through the front door, then the next time I try and leave, I want to have eaten myself trapped inside.

Too fat to fit through the door.

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raenavolante · 2 years

Text

Some Velvet facts:

-he’s the youngest of (at least) three siblings

-he’s 5”10.5 but rounds up to 5”11

-he prefers cameras to be mirrored

-his brother and sister-in-law live in Virginia, so back when ant lived there they’d drive over to visit

-he went to a private Christian school and got in a lot of trouble there

-iirc he was suspended at least once for a ‘lick me’ sticky note

-MAJORRR theater kid

-started as a theatre major, swapped to stats major, then dropped out

-had a 4.0 gpa and was always really smart

-watches political videos from both left and right wings regularly

-is currently banned on reddit (he is missed dearly)

-he’s actually a pretty quiet person when he’s not making a joke

-he has glasses he never wears. I’ve tried to hint he should show us to no success

-ant says he looks cute in his glasses

-his sister has a cat (cous-cous)that him and ant have babysat before

-he’s very cuddly with all 3 of his pets

-he’s been high at least once during ppsat

-he respects bbh a lot, and they talk often off stream

-he hardcore repressed the Gay in school

-ant is his first relationship (unless you count a fourth grade gf)

-owns a red car

-gets very passionate about things he’s interested in (taco bell, hearthstone, politics, etc)

-he always asks chat questions and waits for us to answer

-he’s not overly tech-saavy (ant has had to rescue his stream a few times)

-he didn’t like dream much when they first met

-he’s not as experienced in the kitchen as ant, but often brings ant dinner if he is busy streaming

-he is not afraid to shout things like “penis” out in public

-he doesn’t watch twitch very often

-unironically hole in the wall is his favourite mcc game

-his birthday is one day before Valentines

-he uses light mode on everything

-he only has one monitor

-regrets a lot of what he did in middle/high school

-he occasionally refers to ant as “my antfrost” which is very sweet

-is very aware of the velvet-egg dsmp theory. He’s encouraged it and implied it’s canon despite not being on the server

-does voices while reading fanfic

-went camping a lot as a kid (and still does)

-despite all his joking, he’s very sweet and soft about his love for ant

-he and ant have mentioned having kids in the future

-he did plenty of research to learn about celiac and ants allergies, he even has an app that lets you know if a restaurant has gluten-free options

-he has some eco-jars as well as some fish

-the pets prefer velvet over ant

-he does a scary accurate trump impression

-keeps a comb on his desk

-he is very appreciative of his community despite not really knowing why we stick around

-he actually doesn’t like red velvet cake that much

-he hates mashed potatoes

-had a dog named Calvin most of his life (rest in peace)

-he always uses chat members full usernames, no matter how often he reads our messages

-he’s an introvert

-he’s excited to marry ant one day

#velvetiscake #antfrost #fun facts #rae’s writings #velvet once asked me #raena volante how do you know so much velvet lore?#sir you’ve said all this stuff before #I don’t want to know what he would say to this

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hawkelf · 6 months

Note

does am do can have sweet potato cookie recipe?

of course can have!

sweet potato n'oatmeal* raisin cookies

ingredients:

1 sweet potato

1 c almond flour (or sub sunflour for nut-free, it says)

1/2 tsp baking soda

3/4 c unsweetened shredded dried cocount

1 T cinnamon

1/2 tsp sea salt

1/4 c coconut oil

1/4 c maple syrup

2 tsp vanilla extract

1/2 c raisins

instructions:

cook the sweet potato. Bake in oven @ 400F until soft (~45 minutes) or nuke 6-8 minutes

set oven to 375F to preheat for cookies

combine flour, baking soda, shredded coconut, cinnamon, and salt in a bowl (or don't if you don't like dishes)

mash sweet potato in a medium mixing bowl, stir in oil, maple syrup, and vanilla extract

fold the dry ingredients into the wet + add raisins

scoop onto a lined cookie sheet or w/e, and flatten to form round(ish, in my experience) cookies - batter does not spread, it will be the shape you make it; the power is yours

bake 15 minutes

These cookies reminded me of good carrot cake. Keep in mind that I haven't had carrot cake in over a decade. But they're really tasty, would also probably be good crumbled on ice cream or as the crumble for apple or cherry something.

The printout my parents gave me had multiple recipes from multiple sources on it, but the picture that was beside this recipe has a holdthegrain.com watermark on it. That website loads blank now.

*yes it says oatmeal, no there's no oatmeal in the ingredients list or the instructions; I threw in 1/2 cup gluten free oats, and got very crumbly, moist cookies. maybe the n'oatmeal (copied verbatim) means no oatmeal and it shouldn't be there? godspeed on the oatmeal thing.

#recipe #recipes #gluten free #sweet potato cookies

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real-total-drama-takes · 9 months

Note

How To Make The Best Potato Salad Recipe

1) The key to making the best potato salad is to use starchy potatoes and let them get really soft, so they are partially mashed once mixed. This gives the recipe a rustic, yet thick and luxurious quality. I like to use Yukon Gold or Klondike Goldust potatoes. You can also use Russet potatoes if you like. Do not use new potatoes, because they hold their shape too well and will leave the dressing soupy.

Start the potatoes in a large pot of cold water and bring them to a boil to ensure even cooking. Make sure to salt the boiling water so the salty flavor gets deep down in the potatoes.

Once the potatoes are soft, drain off the water and peel off the skins. You can leave some of the skins on if you like the added texture.

Chop the potatoes when they are soft; this saves time on the peeling and chopping.

Boiling the vegetables in a sauce pot

2) Next, mix all the dressing ingredients together in a large bowl. Use your favorite mayonnaise as the base.

I know better than to tell you what brand to use… Mayonnaise is an intensely personal condiment!

Here in the Carolinas, we use Duke’s Mayonnaise, but mom usually uses Hellmann’s. You can even go with Miracle Whip if that is your favorite.

Mix a large amount of sweet pickle relish into the dressing.

Use the good quality refrigerated relish that tastes fresh, has large chunks, and stays firm. Otherwise, the dense ultra-sweet shelved variety might overwhelm the flavor of the dressing.

If you can’t find “good relish”, finely dice firm refrigerated sweet pickles instead.

Make sure to use yellow mustard for flavor and color. Sometimes mom adds half yellow mustard and half dijon mustard, but if it’s going to be one or the other, you have to use classic yellow mustard.

Apple cider vinegar, celery seeds, and a little bit of paprika round out the dressing flavor.

dressing in bowl

3) Mix the potatoes and the dressing while the potatoes are still warm. Add chopped hard-boiled eggs for richness, celery for crunch, sweet onions for a zippy bite, and fresh chopped dill for a herbaceous punch.

The onions are a point of discrepancy in our family… Personally, I would always choose scallions over any other raw onion. However my dad insists on raw chopped sweet onions for crunch and flavor, so that’s what mom uses.

To his credit, they do provide a more potent onion essence and crisp texture when served on the second or third day.

4) Finally, potato salad, any potato salad, tastes better on the second day after the flavors have had ample time to mix and mingle.

When possible, make mom’s this recipe the day before you plan to serve it.

However, if you don’t have time to make it a day ahead, refrigerate the recipe for as long as humanly possible before mealtime.

OH NO IVE BEEN POTATO SALAD RECIPE’D

#not a take #long post

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suspiciouslackofclowns · 9 months

Text

Harringrove camp counselors x werewolf au anyone?

Camp starts in a few days, Billy is getting ready for the shift and is thus super grumpy and practically starving. Steve is the only thing that stands between him and doom and destruction.

Tomorrow night is the full moon.

Billy's been on a short fuse all morning. Snapped at Jonathan and Keith and anyone else who so much as looked his way.

The only time he's somewhat calmed down all day is when he sat down to eat a little while ago. Of course, he plowed through his meal, and looked mildly upset enough afterwards for Steve to slide his tray over. Billy fixed him with grateful, almost teary eyes before he tucked his fork into the mashed potatoes.

Steve feels bad that he can't offer the usual treatment. Can't have Billy bundled up on the sofa with steak and French fries sitting in front of him at every meal.

The best he can do out here is make sure the tank is full of something, even if it can't be purely protein.

That, and he came absolutely loaded with jerky and Slim Jim's.

By the time mid afternoon rolls around, Billy is sluggish. Sitting by the lake in a lounge chair, umpteenth meat stick in his hand, stomach glaringly full.

He's not as cut as he used to be. Steve appreciates soft abs, thick thighs. Seeing the blond with a rounded tummy like this makes him feel...

Domestic.

Like he could scoop Billy up and lavish him with kisses and attention until he's breathless from it. Or buy him a house.

Whichever.

It's just their luck that someone else would take notice to the fact that they’ve disappeared from the main campground. Eddie's snickering alerts them to his presence before he ever shows up, Chrissy trailing next to him.

"Damn, Hargrove, don't let Keith catch you slacking off," he says. Stands too close for comfort and earns a scoff from Billy. "How many strikes until he boots your ass off the program?"

Munson glances over at Steve, who's been sitting crisscross on the ground flipping through his itinerary, looking over the names of his soon-to-arrive list of campers. Steve shakes his head, raising his eyebrows in hopes that Munson interprets it as lay off. He doesn't, of course.

Just winks at Steve and crouches down next to Billy's chair.

Although Billy's wearing sunglasses, it's obvious from his demeanor that he's glaring daggers at Eddie.

The two aren't exactly friends, aren't exactly enemies. Billy buys off him occasionally. Laughs at a joke every now and then. Playfully flirts back when Eddie deals the first cutesy pet name.

But Billy doesn't put him on a pedestal like other people tend to do. He isn't nice to him just because he's got good weed; no one crosses Billy Hargrove and gets away with it. Something that Steve learned the hard way when they first met.

Before they became friends. Before they were gentle to one another.

So Billy doesn't hesitate to smack Eddie's hand away when he reaches out to pinch teasingly at his side.

"Guess we know the snacks are good at Harrington's place," Eddie teases. "Hell, I'd get fat too if I had name brand shit at my disposal all the time."

Billy grits his teeth. Steve wants to usher Eddie away for him, if for no other reason than it might help Eddie keep all of his limbs intact. But Eddie's too fast and too stupid to be stopped.

He snatches the Slim Jim from Billy's hand and goes to take a bite, but it doesn't make it to his mouth before Billy has risen up from his seat. Steve, fearing the worst, jumps up as well. Readies himself to intervene if he has to, to remind Billy of his own strength before he does any serious damage.

But Billy doesn't pick Eddie up by his throat to strangle the life out of him. No, he manhandles him and swings him over his shoulder, stomping towards the lake with Eddie kicking and screaming all the while.

When he gets nearly knee-deep in the water, he throws him. Far enough out that Eddie actually sinks and takes a moment to resurface.

When he does, he swipes his wet bangs out of his face, clearly about to blow his gasket.

But Billy stays standing there. Chest heaving, shoulders squared, and the anger relaxes off of Eddie's face. Turns into fear, briefly, like he's worried that if he swims to shore, Billy will crush his skull between his hands. Or shove his head under the water and not let it come back up.

Neither of which are too far from the truth, just based on the way that the veins are popping to the surface on the blond’s neck.

Steve jogs out to where Billy stands in the water, setting a careful hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, c'mon, let's go take a walk, huh?" Steve coos.

Gently grabs Billy's hand and guides him out of the lake, leaving Eddie floating just a ways off. Slim Jim bobbing on the surface of the water.

When the two pass by Chrissy, she mouths an I'm sorry to Billy before she jogs out to help Eddie back to shore. And probably to lecture him for being mean, which is something she does fairly often.

Even if he doesn't have bad intentions, the guy can't keep his mouth shut to save his life.

By the time supper rolls around, Billy is antsy. It takes Steve rubbing his back while seated in the dining hall to calm him down enough to eat.

Their friends give them wary glances. Clearly concerned, but too afraid to ask what's wrong. It's not like Steve could really tell them anyway. He just tries to soothe the blond the best that he can.

That turns out to be easier after dinner, when the two sneak off to the bathrooms and Steve tugs Billy's shorts down. Presses up behind him as Billy leans his hands on the sink, legs spread as he pitches forward to take all that Steve has to offer.

The blond isn't even quiet. He moans loud. Watches their reflections with half-lidded eyes in the mirror, cock bobbing between his legs as Steve thrusts into him.

When he comes, his brows knit together and his mouth parts around a pretty sound. It's the most at ease that Steve has seen him all day.

It makes him want to prolong this moment. He keeps pushing into Billy, savoring his whimpers and gasps as he grips at his hips. Smooths a hand over his abdomen, relishing how soft and full he feels against his palm. Billy pushes back into him, trying to take him deeper.

"Y'know, fuck Munson," Steve pants. Drags kisses against Billy's neck and nibbles at his ear, earning another moan. "I like your tummy."

Billy whines. Another pearly bead dribbles from his tip, the first of many as Steve keeps plowing into him.

After having his soft underbelly squeezed by a slender hand, he spills another load. Steve is soon to follow, pressing his fingers into his lover's pudge until his hips are stuttering and he's tipping over that edge as well.

Billy moans as he's filled up. Cups his hand over the back of Steve's and holds it there as they both sit on that high together.

The brunet smiles against Billy's skin. Lavishes his neck with attention as they come down together, still linked, still cradling Billy's full tummy.

"Do you feel better, bubs?" Steve asks.

Billy just pants for a moment. Smiles at Steve in the mirror and winks at him.

If their little bathroom hangout was heard, no one says anything about it. Not even when the two of them climb into one bunk at the end of the night.

Part 1?

I have more of this, but idk if it’s even something people wanna read, so I haven’t completely flushed out the concept yet. I guess lmk?

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k-evans-reads · 2 years

Text

Aulani Worries

A Higher Love One Shot

Summary: Chris and Nickie come to terms with a big realization during a family vacation.

Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC Nickie Morrison

By: @k-evans-writes and @ourfinest-hour

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Word Count: 2,936

Warnings: None.

Previous l Writing Masterlist l Higher Love Masterlist | Extensions Masterlist

November 2028

7.5 years married

Chris ran a hand through his damp hair, carefully making his way back over to the cabana where Nickie was laying on a lounge chair, sunglasses shielding her dark eyes from the Hawaiian sun.

“How was Joey doing?” Nickie asked, raising a single eyebrow and watching Chris as he sat down in the chair next to her with a sigh.

He huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “That kid barely had time to say hi to me before he ran back to playing,” he murmured, eyes quickly finding three-year-old Charlie in the pool - where she was swimming with Jessie and Jules - before he found Ty, playing in the shallow end quietly, a short distance from himself and Nic. “He’s living his best life in that kids club.”

“Of course he is,” Nickie laughed, turning her head to the side to look at her husband. She reached a hand out to grasp his own, squeezing it as she told him, “This was such a good idea you had to bring everyone here.”

Chris shrugged sheepishly, sliding his round sunglasses back over his eyes as he met her gaze. “I figured everyone would like us giving this to them for Thanksgiving rather than a bowl of mashed potatoes,” he laughed.

He watched as Nickie turned her head back to look at the pool, following her gaze and seeing the rest of their family scattered around. Josh and Jordan were a few feet from Jessie, Jules, and Charlie in the pool, Carly’s kids were taking turns going down the waterslide, cheering loudly and making their parents laugh, and Shanna and her husband, Graham, were sitting at the pool bar with Scott, his husband, and Kevin.“I think so because everyone is having a blast,” Nickie told him with a soft smile, letting out a soft sigh of contentment.

Chris nodded, but he frowned as his eyes moved back to Ty, watching as the seven-year-old was sitting still in the zero-entry, the water just brushing his surfboard swim trunks. “Do you think Ty is? He isn’t really swimming much,” he asked Nickie quietly, raising an eyebrow at her curiously. It was quite the jarring shift as he thought about how he left Joey in the kids club - practically everybody’s best friend, holding court - and then looked at Charlie, who was laughing as she listened to a joke from her cousins, to finally look at solemn Ty, able to see the way his eyes were darting nervously around the pool.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Nickie follow his gaze. “I think he’s just tired. You know he always starts to wind down in the afternoons,” she said in an attempt to reassure him.

He sighed, shrugging to himself unconvincingly. “I guess…”

But Chris’ eyes didn’t leave his eldest son who seemed to nervously look around the pool full of people, only smiling when his little sister and cousins swam by him. Chris had thought this trip would be such a good idea, taking both his entire side of the family as well as Nickie’s to Aulani to enjoy the Hawaiian sun and Disney magic all at the same time. And it was true that it was a good idea, everyone loving all the time they spent together, but Chris had noticed that throughout the week, Ty hadn’t ever been more than a few feet away from them.

He knew all three of their kids were wildly different in personality, Ty being more of a homebody, loving the people closest to him and spending quality time. Joey was all of the extroverted tendencies of both himself and Nickie, but having that extreme warmth and authenticity like Nickie which made him a magnet for people, becoming friends with everyone. Then there was little Charlie who usually was giggling up a storm and just having fun with her cousins. Chris loved how all of them were so vastly different, but still so close, although the fact that Ty was so similar to Chris when he was a child allowed him a special insight into their oldest son. But with that came the awareness of seeing the nervousness in Ty being away from his home and comfortable surroundings, seeing how glued he was to them and making some of the gears in Chris’ head start to turn.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when Ty pushed himself up and came walking out of the pool, water dripping from his swimsuit as he came to stand in front of their chairs. “Hey buddy,” Chris smiled, eyes dropping to look at Ty’s fidgeting hands. He returned “You hungry? Do you want a snack or anything?”

Ty’s shoulders shrugged, his lower lip sticking out as he stared at the concrete beneath his feet. “No…” he whispered to them.

Nickie sat up, her legs bending in front of her. “Are you tired, honey?” She asked, leaning forward to hold his hand.

“No,” Ty repeated, glancing up to let his eyes dart between his parents. “Can I sit with you?” He finally asked, staring at Nickie.

Nickie was quiet before she nodded, scooting backwards on the chair. “Of course, baby. C’mere,” she told him.

Chris watched while Ty climbed onto the lounger, curling up to Nickie’s side, laying his head on her chest while he held onto her tightly. He could practically see the stress leaving Ty’s body as Nickie kissed his forehead, running a hand through his light hair before wrapping her arms around him to hold him securely. Chris could recognize that anxiety, remembering feeling the same way as a child and recalling how much having his family around him brought so much comfort to him. They stayed there for a long time, just enjoying the sun quietly while Nickie held Ty until Jordan came over, informing them they were taking the kids, including Charlie, to go get some shave ice and asked Ty if he wanted to go, who just shook his head and stayed hugging onto Nickie.

Chris tilted his head, looking at his eldest. “Bud, don’t you want to go get some shave ice? It’d probably taste good with how hot it is,” he asked, the ball of worry inside of him growing as he noted every anxious tic in his son.

Ty shook his head, burying it deeper against Nickie’s chest as he nearly whined, “I wanna stay with you.”

Nickie pushed her sunglasses onto the top of her head, shooting a look to Chris before she gently tilted Ty’s head enough that she could look into the boy’s blue eyes. “Ty Ty, I think you’d like to go down and get a treat,” she said with a smile on her face, nodding her head towards the pool bar. “What if Uncle Scott went with you?”

Ty thought for a moment, Chris watching him carefully until he conceded, “...Okay.”

Chris grabbed his phone, shooting Scott a quick text to let him know what was up before Nickie grabbed the white button up shirt, pulling it over her frame before she stood up and put an arm around Ty’s skinny shoulders and walked him over to the uncle he was so close to. Chris could see them in the distance, watching Scott read the text and give Chris a nod before Nickie made it over with their son. Scott enthusiastically picked Ty up, putting him on his back while they headed off toward the beach, Ty smiling genuinely for the first time that afternoon.

His blue eyes watched Nickie coming back over to him, but before she could sit, Chris stood up to meet her, suggesting, “Want to go on a walk?”

“Sure, honey,” Nickie agreed with that wide smile he had always loved so deeply.

Taking her hand, the two of them walked away from the pool, heading along a more secluded path along the lagoons near the edge of the property. Taking advantage of the privacy, Chris leaned down to kiss Nickie softly, wanting that little bit of affection before finally giving voice to his fears.

“Nic, I’m concerned about Ty,” Chris said quietly, jaw clenched as he watched her face carefully.

Her brows pinched, the only hint of a reaction from Nickie before she schooled her expression. “Why’s that?” She asked him, tone unusually even.

He shrugged, his empty hand raising until it froze in mid-air. “Because of how he was this afternoon,” He said, shaking his head. “Didn’t you think it was weird?”

Nickie frowned, brows furrowing more as she excused it, “Not really. I mean, Ty always needs a break in the afternoons.”

Chris sighed, shaking his head and looking at the ground. “He hasn’t been more than five feet from us this entire trip,” he reminded her. While it wasn’t uncommon for Ty to hover, to seek out Chris or Nickie on a daily basis, this…. Attachment was new and concerning to Chris.

“Ty just isn’t as independent as Joey and Charlie are but that’s okay. He doesn’t have to want to be doing all the same things that his siblings do,” Nickie repeated, her voice hard.

“It’s not just today, Nic,” Chris insisted, frowning when Nickie dropped his hand to wrap her arms over her chest. “I’ve been noticing more and more of his anxiety coming out.”

“I just don’t think it’s bad that he likes to be at home and with us,” she told him quietly, her voice softer.

“I’m not saying that it’s a bad thing, I’m saying that I think a lot of his choices are being ruled by anxiety,” he began, but before Chris got to get his point across more firmly, his phone rang, Jordan calling to say they were bringing the kids back up so they all could get changed before their dinner reservation. With a sigh, Chris decided to table the conversation but was not willing to let it go yet.

He set his focus on getting their kids upstairs into their villa, before he and Nickie traded off on getting themselves and the kids showered and ready for dinner with everyone soon. Chris’ mind was preoccupied the entire dinner, unable to fully enjoy just being with his whole family and instead only able to focus on the thoughts that were going through his brain. Chris and Nickie kept their distance from one another throughout the lead up to dinner and throughout, sitting on opposite ends of the table from one another. He watched as Ty relaxed a little and had fun with his siblings and cousins at times, but also saw the flashes of anxiety. He saw the way Ty would quiet down, coloring quietly and not engaging as he stayed close to Chris or Nickie at all times.

Those tells remained as they made their way back to the resort, Chris holding a dozing Joey, the five-year-old a dead weight in his arms, in the elevator, his eyes moving over Nickie. She had Charlie in her arms, the little girl’s brown eyes blinking owlishly as she yawned, and the family followed Ty out of the elevator and down the hall into their villa. When they got inside, they went to work getting the kids to bed, tucking them all in separately rather than they normally did together, Nickie quickly going out of the room as soon as she was done while Chris lingered to get the window cracked open.

“Daddy?” Joey’s small voice surprised him, Chris glancing behind himself at the brown-eyed boy in his bed, next to his sleeping older brother.

“What, bud?” Chris whispered, crouching next to Joey’s side of the bed and smoothing a hand over his thick dark hair.

Joey’s eyes moved over Chris’ face, so much so that Chris was almost convinced the boy was just trying to think of any excuse he could to prolong going to bed even if for only another minute. But what Joey said next, what he asked of Chris, surprised him, his son asking, “...Are you and Mommy mad at each other?”

Chris let out a low breath, glancing away before he quietly asked Joey, “What makes you say that?”

He raised his small shoulders, his Hulk pajamas moving with the action as he whispered, “I dunno,” through a yawn.

Chris plastered a smile on his face, pressing a kiss to Joey’s forehead. “Don’t worry, Joey. Everything is just fine,” he reassured him, pulling the comforter over Joey’s shoulders. “It’s bedtime, bud.”

Joey nodded, a yawn escaping him again as he rolled over, eyes shut. Chris crept out of the room with one final look at Ty and Charlie, cracking the door behind him and making his way through the quiet villa. He closed the bedroom door behind him and followed the light into the bathroom, where Nickie was washing her face. She was still dressed in another white shirt, tucked into a pair of red shorts. Her face was tight as she momentarily met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror before they dropped down to look at her hands, avoiding his gaze as she removed her makeup.

He leaned against the doorway of the bathroom, his light green shirt stretched across his skin - and covering some of his sunburn - at the action. “Nickie, we need to talk,” he sighed, unable to get Joey’s words out of his mind.

Her chin wobbled a bit as she ran the makeup wipe over her face, then moved to wash her face properly. “There’s nothing else to talk about,” she told him with a stony tone.

He let out a huff of laughter that bordered on incredulous. “Yes there is.” He shook his head, taking in a sharp breath to bolster himself. “Ty is really struggling with his anxiety, I can tell.”

Nickie spun around, leaning her back against the large vanity. “He’s fine, Chris,” she insisted sharply.

“I feel like you’re just dismissing this whole issue!”

“There’s nothing wrong with my Ty!”

“Baby,” Chris trailed off, watching as tears filled Nickie’s eyes and her words cut through any fight left in him. “There’s nothing wrong with him, but he needs us to help him more than we are right now.”

His heart broke as the tears escaped her eyes, Nickie’s shoulders sagging at Chris’ words. He pushed himself off of the doorframe, crossing the tiled floor and wrapping his arms around her frame. Her tears soaked his shirt as her face buried against the green material, Nickie asking, “How could I have been such a bad mother?”

“Nicole Evans, look at me right now,” Chris instantly ordered, pulling back from her enough that she could look him in the eyes. “You’re not a bad mother.”

But she shook her head, insisting with furious tears running down her bare cheeks, “Yes I am. My son is struggling and I couldn’t even see it.”

“Honey, I didn’t even pick up on all of it until I could see him here in a different setting,” Chris confessed to her, his thumbs coming up to brush away her tears. “But I can recognize it because that’s what I was like as a kid.”

Nickie was quiet and Chris could tell her brain was working through the entire situation, the entire day’s events. “I didn’t know that you struggled with anxiety as a kid too,” she whispered to him.

“I don’t think I knew it was anxiety then but it was. You only met me once I had long been aware of it and had been to a lot of therapy and learned how to manage it better, but you know how much I still struggle,” he told her, his arms pulling her back against him .“God I hate that I gave that to Ty.”

“It’s not your fault Chris.”

“I feel like it is.”

“Well you didn’t have control over having anxiety in the first place,” Nickie leveled, biting her lower lip before her arms grasped him finally. “And because you do, you recognize how to help him obviously a lot better than I can.”

He shrugged, a playful look finally crossing his face. “Hey, that’s why we’re a team,” he told her, raising his brows.

Nickie nodded, and at Chris’ prodding they moved about their typical nightly routine, a sense of…. Peace between them finally for the first time in hours. They brushed their teeth and got changed for bed together, laying down under the fluffy comforter with duplicate sighs.

Nickie rolled onto her side, laying her head on Chris’ chest as she quietly asked him, “So what do we do?”

He sighed again, quiet for a moment until he murmured, “I think we need to take Ty to a doctor when we get home and then start helping him learn some coping skills and talk to him more about it.” While they were open when it came to talking to the kids about how even mommy and daddy got scared and nervous sometimes, it was clever they’d need to begin sharing with Ty about moments they felt anxious, felt uncomfortable in situations, and discuss what helped them in hopes that he could find something that helped him.

Nickie’s hand laid on his chest, playing with the chain of his silver necklace silently. “Chris… I’m just so worried about him,” she whispered, vulnerability in her voice.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, tightening the arm that was wrapped around her hips as he admitted, “I know, I am too. But we’re going to help him and it’s going to be okay.”

A/N: This one shot has been two years in the making! We've been planning this since summer 2020 so to finally write it was so fulfilling. We hope you guys enjoyed it! Also for an upcoming Chrickie article, check this out...

#higher love #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans story #chris evans fic #chris evans writing #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x oc #chris evans #chris evans ff #chris evans fanfic #chris evans au #cevans #chris evans x original female character #original female character #real person fanfiction #real person fiction #dad!chris evans #dad! chris evans #dad chris evans

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maybeimamuppet · 4 months

Text

matildamas day 12: christmas eve

hello everyone!! happy christmas eve to all of you who celebrate and welcome to the last chapter of the 12 days of matildamas! it’s been an absolute delight seeing all of your reactions to these each day. thank you so much for all the kind words in your comments and every vote/kudos/like/reblog and all those wonderful things. they’re definitely the best gift i’ll get this christmas :))

tw for

discussion over the reality of santa

mentioned previous abuse

mentioned death

otherwise please enjoy the last day and merry christmas!!

—————

“Mummy?”

“Yes, lamb?” Jenny responds.

“Is Santa Claus real?” Matilda asks softly. Jenny pauses.

“What do you think?” she responds softly before she continues fiddling with the tinsel on the tree. Matilda ponders this.

“I don’t think so. I wasn’t always nice, but I don’t think I ever warranted a spot on the naughty list, and I still never got anything from him. And it doesn’t seem possible for a single person to be able to fly ‘round the whole world in just a night, even if he is magic. And accounting for time zones,” Matilda says. She frowns a bit and adds, “But I did have telekinesis.”

Jenny laughs and sits on the couch, beckoning her over. Matilda sits next to her and leans into her side. Jenny gently rubs up and down Matilda’s arm as she explains.

“You’re right, he’s not real in the way we usually think. There’s no magical man in a red suit who flies around with reindeer. That’s just an old tradition from a few different cultures that we keep going for fun, and to entertain children. But that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s not real.”

“What do you mean?” Matilda asks, looking up at her.

“Well, what does Santa Claus do?” Jenny asks.

“He… delivers gifts to well-behaved children,” Matilda explains. “And eats cookies.”

“Exactly. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think you have to be magical and wear a silly costume to be able to do those things. Santa is all about the spirit of Christmas, and there’s plenty of things you can do that make you the real, live Santa Claus. Giving gifts to friends, enjoying some special holiday treats, being kind to people you meet and spreading joy. Spending time with family. All that is what Santa is about. So whenever you do those things, you’re sort of like Santa Claus, in a way.”

“Oh,” Matilda says with a soft smile. “I like that.”

“I like it too,” Jenny says with a grin. “Now, what do you say we channel our inner Santa and eat some of these cookies we made, hm?”

Matilda nods eagerly and goes rushing off to the kitchen to fetch the container. Jenny chuckles and follows her.

—————

Mrs. Phelps joins them for a lovely Christmas Eve dinner. Mrs. Phelps doesn’t celebrate Christmas herself, and Matilda is delighted to learn all about the Diwali traditions she’s recovering from preparing with her family last month. She invites them to join next year, and Jenny has to admit she’s only slightly less excited than Matilda, who starts dancing in her chair and nearly falls.

“You’re more than welcome to join us for Christmas dinner again next year as well,” Jenny says, selfishly hoping she agrees.

“I’d be delighted,” Mrs. Phelps replies. Jenny smiles sheepishly down at her ham and mashed potatoes, and gives a warning glare in response to Matilda’s smirk across the table.

Once their bellies are all stuffed, Mrs. Phelps very kindly helps with the washing up and gives them their Christmas gifts. Matilda excitedly hands over hers (a very nice new lemonade pitcher) and Jenny’s (some of her favorite books as donations to the library bus) as well.

“Merry Christmas!” Matilda says as they wave Mrs. Phelps goodbye in the cold night. She replies in kind and waves until she’s out of sight.

“Alright, my little elf, bath time for you,” Jenny says, hugging Matilda tight before sending her up the stairs and closing the door to block out the chill.

“Will you help?” Matilda asks quietly from the top. Jenny smiles and follows her upstairs.

“Of course.”

She runs some warm water into the tub and plugs the drain, before adding in some gingerbread scented bubbles and folding Matilda’s towel and pajamas on the counter to wait for her so she won’t get chilly when she gets out. Matilda smiles as she sees the foam rising from the tub and carefully slips off her Christmas dress. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, love. I’ll be downstairs, give a shout if you need anything,” Jenny responds, kissing Matilda’s forehead.

“I will,” Matilda says. Jenny smiles and leaves her to her bath in privacy.

—-

Matilda comes downstairs after about an hour, clean and dry in her jammies and smelling absolutely delightful. “All clean?”

Matilda nods happily and plops herself on the ground at Jenny’s feet. Jenny chuckles and reaches for the hairbrush and comb. She pretends to complain, but this is secretly one of her favorite parts of having a daughter. Getting to do this little thing to help the very mature six-year-old care for herself.

She tenderly brushes all the knots out of Matilda’s damp hair and twists it into a braid down her back. Matilda tips her head up once she hears the small rubber band snap into place. “Thank you.”

Jenny chuckles, leaning down to kiss her nose. Matilda scrunches it with a giggle. “You’re very welcome. I’m off for my shower, and then maybe we should get a nice fire going?”

“Oh, yes please,” Matilda says, moving so Jenny can stand.

“Sounds like a plan,” Jenny says. “Just wait ‘til I get back, please.”

“I will!” Matilda says in exasperation, grabbing a book from the shelf to keep herself occupied in the meantime.

“I mean it.”

“I know,” Matilda says. Jenny almost gives her a talking to for the eye roll she uses to accompany the words, but Matilda’s loving smile as she peeks at her over her book undoes anything Jenny was feeling.

“Cheeky. Back in a tick,” she says. Matilda nods and tucks in to her book. Jenny grabs a soft towel from the linen closet and heads into the bathroom herself.

Her hair doesn’t need washing today, so she tucks it delicately beneath a waterproof cap as she slips off her clothes. She turns the water on and waits for it to warm, smelling the lingering aroma of Matilda’s gingerbread bubbles. She hums to herself as she reads the bottle and sees it doubles as body wash. Sold.

She lets out a relieved sigh as she steps in and the hot water runs over her skin, melting all the stresses of the holiday season away with it. She rolls out her shoulders and her neck to get rid of some tension and just stands there for a minute.

Jenny knows she didn’t have to push herself this hard to make Christmas magical for Matilda. She wanted to. She may have gone a little bit overboard, but it is Matilda’s first Christmas. She thinks. She hasn’t actually asked what Christmas was like for Matilda before, but Matilda’s said some things that lead her to believe it was never a very jolly time.

She bought and made tons of presents, enough to spread well away from the tree and a few boxes tall. She wrapped them as neatly as she could manage in pretty paper and shiny bags, with ribbons and bows and glittery tissue paper adorning them.

They’ve made no fewer than six batches of cookies and eaten them all before the day was out, and made handmade decorations. They spent all day playing in the snow together earlier in the month, and had some delicious hot chocolate to warm up afterwards. They put up and decorated the tree together, and made a cracking Christmas Eve dinner, if Jenny does say so herself.

But most of all, they’ve spent the time together. They did everything together. Usually one of them or the other is busy with school or friends or other commitments, and although they make it a priority, they haven’t had this much time to spend just with one another in a very long time.

And it’s been wonderful.

Getting to spend so much time one-on-one with her has reminded Jenny just how bright Matilda truly is. She’s brilliant, and she’s funny, and rambunctious and mischievous and sweet and loving and everything Jenny could possibly want for her daughter to be.

And Matilda is hers.

Jenny scrubs herself clean with the gingerbread body wash and rinses quickly, before toweling herself dry and changing into her own pajamas as quickly as she can so she can rejoin her daughter downstairs.

Matilda looks up at her as she hears her creaking down the stairs, already a solid third of the way through her thick book. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Jenny responds. “How’s the book?”

“It’s different in English,” Matilda responds, sounding neither pleased nor upset about it. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Hm. Well, you’ll have to let me know if it’s a good or bad different once you finish it,” Jenny says. Matilda puts Tolstoy to the side and sits up, looking curiously at Jenny.

“Are we making a fire now?”

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Jenny chuckles. “Little pyromaniac.”

“You brought it up!” Matilda defends. Jenny laughs and beckons her over for a hug.

“I did. It’ll be nice once we get it going, but we have to brave the outdoors to get the wood,” she says. Matilda slumps a bit against her, and Jenny laughs again.

They both put their slippers on and look at each other. Jenny nods, and Matilda undoes the lock and pulls the door open. They run out onto the porch and around to the side of the house where the wood pile sits, squealing at the cold and the damp of the snow. They grab as many logs as they can carry before running back inside and slamming the door shut behind them, bursting into peals of laughter.

They didn’t get much, but they got enough wood to have a nice fire going for at least a few hours. They deposit their logs by the fireplace in the living room. Matilda watches curiously as Jenny stacks them inside, looking to see how she does it.

“Would you like to light the match?” Jenny asks knowingly. Matilda nods happily and scoots closer. Jenny is nearby to prevent a disaster, but she knows she probably would do worse at it than Matilda.

It takes a few tries, some fanning, and some encouraging words, but eventually they have a roaring fire and close the little grate so they can feel the warmth without getting the carpet covered in ash.

They sit back, on the ground and against the sofa, both looking proudly at their creation. Matilda leans against Jenny’s arm and hugs it gently.

It’s quiet for a long moment, the only sounds being the creaking of the house and the peaceful crackling of the fire.

Eventually, Matilda asks softly, “What was Christmas like when you were a kid? When your father was alive?”

“Oh, they were wonderful,” Jenny begins fondly. “We had huge dinners on both Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Big and hearty. And filling, my goodness. My father said they never came out as good as when my mother cooked them, but I always thought they were absolutely delicious.”

Matilda looks up at her. Jenny looks back, leaning her cheek against the top of Matilda’s head, and continues.

“He always put a photo of her up on the mantel, and he hung her stocking in between ours. We decorated the tree together every year. He’d always say he wasn’t tall enough to reach the tippy top, so he’d pick me up and let me put the angel on. He put up streamers and stickers on the windows and lights way up on the roof and tinsel everywhere. He had this ancient Bing Crosby Christmas record that we’d always listen to, and he’d sing along. I always thought his voice sounded like chocolate. Rich and smooth.

“We used to make food for the reindeer. It was just oats and colored sugar, but I thought it was absolutely magical. We’d leave it on the porch and some cookies for Santa on the bench. I always asked to wait for him so I could say hello, so my father would put on his coat and get me all bundled up, and I’d sit outside on his lap and watch for the sleigh in the sky until I fell asleep.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Matilda says softly. Jenny smiles.

“It was,” she replies in a whisper. “And I always, always got to open just one present on Christmas Eve.”

That gets Matilda’s attention. Jenny laughs.

“Would you like to?”

Matilda nods. Jenny sends her over to the packed tree.

“Pick one. Any one,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning back to watch. Matilda grabs a small, flattish box wrapped in red plaid paper with a gold bow and looks at her curiously. Jenny nods, so Matilda scoots back over to her and gently tears the paper off.

She carefully opens the box and pulls aside the tissue paper inside. She tips her head when she sees what’s inside. “A scarf?”

Jenny smiles, pulling out the white scarf and wrapping it gently around Matilda’s neck. “My mother made this for me when I was still a baby. To match hers. I was always looking at it, even as such a little one. My father said she spent weeks knitting it for me and I never went anywhere without it. I found it in the attic a few weeks ago.”

Matilda gently holds the end of the woven thing in her hand and looks up at her. “You’re giving it to me?”

“Of course,” Jenny says, wiping a tear from Matilda’s cheek. “I have the real thing now. And I know my mother would’ve loved to see it passed down to her grandchild. That’s your own special white scarf, now.”

“I love it,” Matilda says softly. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” Jenny responds, gently patting her cheek. Matilda suddenly stands and goes running off. “Where are you going?”

Matilda thunders up the stairs to her room and back down so quickly Jenny is worried she’ll fall. She returns with a small, neatly wrapped gift. The taping job is a little shoddy, but it’s otherwise very well done. “Here.”

“For me?” Jenny chuckles. Matilda nods.

“Oh, but… it’s all I could get for you,” she says sadly. “If you open it now you won’t have anything to open tomorrow morning.”

“Would you rather I wait?” Jenny asks, resting her hands gently on the gift.

“…No. Unless you want to.”

“I’ll have just as much fun watching you open your things. Let me see what you’ve gotten for me,” Jenny says. She gently undoes the paper and gasps softly as she pulls out… a book. The book.

“Mrs. Phelps helped me,” Matilda says shyly. “But I wrote it myself.”

“This is what you were working on so hard?” Jenny asks with tears brimming in her eyes. “All those drawings?”

Matilda nods. “Yes. Do… do you like it?”

“Oh, darling, I love it,” Jenny says, letting out the softest of sobs as she pulls Matilda right to her. Matilda clings to her neck and rests her head on her shoulder. “I can’t believe you wrote a whole book just for me. I’m so proud of you, your first book.”

“Thank you,” Matilda says, sounding the slightest bit choked with how tight Jenny is hugging her.

“Can I read it?” Jenny asks as she lets her go. Matilda nods.

Jenny rests it carefully on the ground and opens the front cover, lying on her stomach in front of her to read it. Matilda lies next to her and watches both the pages turn and Jenny’s reaction to them.

The Butterfly and the Bird, by Matilda Kate Honey

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful hummingbird. She had green plumage and a blue tail. Her grey wings carried her gracefully between all the flowers in the meadow she called home.

She was also a very special hummingbird. It was her job to teach all the baby hummingbirds how to collect nectar from the flowers, too. She had done this for many years, and was very good at it.

One day, a little blue butterfly fluttered over and landed on the top of her beak. “Hello,” cheeped the hummingbird.

“Oh, Miss Hummingbird, you must help me,” the butterfly pleaded. “I see you teaching all the other hummingbirds how to collect nectar from the flowers. My butterfly parents won’t teach me, and I’m so hungry. Will you please help?”

“Oh,” said the hummingbird. “We are different species. I’ve never taught a butterfly before.”

The butterfly looked defeated and began to flutter away.

Before she could get too far, the hummingbird chirped, “But I’ll try as hard as I can.”

They flew off across the meadow together, pausing at all the best-looking flowers so the butterfly could learn. The hummingbird found out that even though the butterfly didn’t know how to collect food, she knew lots of other things. The butterfly knew the names of all the flowers, and all the grasses that grew in the meadow too. The hummingbird thought this was very interesting.

After that first day, the butterfly came bright and early to join the class of the hummingbirds. The hummingbird smiled every time she saw the butterfly, and let her ride between the blossoms on her head so the butterfly wouldn’t get tired trying to keep up.

But their lessons didn’t go unnoticed.

In the meadow, there was a big, terrible, ugly, mean old hawk. So big and so terrible it could’ve swallowed them both up in a single gobble.

Everyone was afraid of the hawk. The hummingbird was very afraid of the hawk. As a fledgling the hawk had nibbled on her wing and made it too hard to fly. She had been stuck in one place for many, many, many years until her wing had gotten better, but she still flew the slightest bit lopsided.

One day after hummingbird school, the hawk approached the hummingbird. “Hello, Miss Hummingbird.”

“Hello,” the hummingbird replied politely.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the hawk said with a snarl.

“There is a young butterfly across the meadow. I’ve been teaching her how to collect nectar with my other students so she doesn’t starve.”

The hawk tilted her head and sneered at her. “A butterfly? In a hummingbird class?”

“Yes. She’s very smart,” the hummingbird says.

“Ridiculous. Butterflies can’t be smart. They don’t even have brains!” insisted the hawk.

“Of course they do! And this one has a big one,” the hummingbird said bravely.

“Are you calling me a liar?” growled the hawk.

“N-no, of course not,” stuttered the hummingbird.

The hawk took big, slow steps, closer and closer until their beaks were nearly touching. “Then listen when I say. You are forbidden from teaching the butterfly any more. You’d better listen. You know what I can do.”

The hummingbird couldn’t do anything except nod frantically. The hawk got up and flew away to her tree overlooking the whole big meadow.

The next day, the butterfly came flying over for class like always. The hummingbird looked at her sadly as she landed on her beak. “Oh, dear butterfly,” she said. “I’m not sure I can help you anymore.”

“Why not?” the butterfly asked after a moment’s consideration.

“My boss says I can’t teach you anymore,” the hummingbird explains. She apologized and said they would have to figure something else out. “We will have to figure something else out. I won’t give up on you.”

The butterfly smiled and tickled the hummingbird with her antennae in appreciation. Before the hummingbird could respond, the butterfly lifted up and started flying away.

“Where are you going?!” the hummingbird called after her.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you tomorrow!” the butterfly replied.

The butterfly came back the very next day. Nothing seemed any different to the hummingbird. “Hello again, little butterfly.”

“Hello,” the butterfly replied.

“What was so important yesterday?” the hummingbird asked.

“Oh, I just had to check something,” the butterfly replied. The hummingbird was suspicious, but she didn’t mention anything. “Has the hawk done anything?”

“Not recently,” the hummingbird replied, flying after the butterfly into the meadow.

“I watch from my bush sometimes. I don’t think the other hummingbirds you teach like her very much either.”

“No, I don’t think they do,” the hummingbird admitted.

Suddenly, they heard a snap of a beak and a snarl from behind them. “Miss Hummingbird.”

They both froze and slowly turned around. “Y-yes?”

“I told you not to see this butterfly ever again,” the hawk said threateningly.

"You did.”

“Then why did you? Do you not fear what I’m capable of?” the hawk growled, stepping closer and closer to them on its terrible legs.

The hummingbird stood fast, trembling from beak to bottom. “I do. But I won’t let this creature suffer because of your rules.”

The hawk leapt at them, snapping its terrible beak and flying after them as fast as it could.

“Run!” yelled the butterfly, and they both took off. They ran and ran, over the meadows and through the woods, as fast as they could, with the hawk chasing them all the way.

Eventually, they made it to a very particular tree. They both landed on a tiny, thin branch way, way up high, too thin to support the hawk’s weight.

To the hummingbird’s surprise, all of her hummingbird students were there too, sitting next to a massive pile of the itchiest pollen the butterfly had gathered during her lessons. Everyone took a clump in their wing, and hurled it at the hawk.

They bonked and bounced and hit the hawk from every angle, but still she persisted. Then, the butterfly took one clump, the last one, in her little wing and threw it as hard as she could. It hit the hawk square up the nose, and she sneezed so hard she flew backwards for miles and miles, and was never seen again.

The hummingbird took over as queen of the meadow, and the butterfly moved into the closest bush. Every day they met for tea, and every night they took turns sleeping in the others nest.

And all the air, and all the land, and even all the water, belonged to them, together.

And they lived happily ever after.

Matilda has been gazing intently at her face the entire time she read, looking for every small little hint of emotion. Jenny carefully flips the last page over and stares down at the back cover. “Did… did you like it? I-it was a lot harder to write the story down instead of just saying it out loud like I usually do, so it… it…”

Jenny slowly sits up and hauls Matilda into her lap, squeezing her tight and burying her face in her hair. She tries not to let Matilda see her cry, but she feels a few tears slip out of her closed eyes. “Oh, Matilda. I loved it. This is my favorite book I’ve ever read. And the best present I’ve ever received.”

Matilda wiggles until her face is exposed to air once more and quietly asks, “Really?”

Jenny nods and leaves a lingering kiss on her daughter’s soft little cheek. “Well, the best gift I’ve really ever gotten was you. But it’s definitely the best book in the whole world. I absolutely love it.”

Matilda smiles and cuddles back into her. Jenny holds her close and smiles at the book still resting on the floor.

They’re content to stay like that for quite a while. Jenny gently rocks Matilda from side to side every now and again, but other than that, they’re still and silent for a long time.

“Have I got to go to bed now?” Matilda asks quietly after a while. Jenny chuckles.

“Not tonight, unless you’re tired.”

Matilda shakes her head. Jenny is confused when she pries herself from her grasp and pads over to their bookshelf. Matilda stands on her tiptoes to grab whatever she’s after and comes back. Jenny recognizes it immediately. A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens. She smiles and pats the ground next to her. Matilda pulls their cushiest blanket off the back of the couch and spreads it on the ground, and their softest one goes on top of them as they lay side by side to read.

“Do you want to read it or shall I?” Jenny asks when they’re all comfortable.

“Oh, wait!” Matilda says, and she’s off again. Jenny sighs affectionately as she hears her making a great cacophony of noise in the kitchen. She runs a hand over the smooth plastic dust jacket protecting the hard cover of the book as she waits.

Matilda comes back after another little while with two mugs of steaming hot tea carefully resting on a tray, and a large pile of the Christmas cookies they made sitting between them.

“Ooh,” Jenny says when she rests the tray on the ground nearby, but far enough away that it won’t get accidentally bumped. “Thank you, love. This is just perfect, now.”

Matilda just nods with a wide smile on her face. She settles back in and pulls the book open. “Let’s switch for each chapter. But you go first.”

“Alright,” Jenny says, sliding the book the slightest bit closer to herself and beginning to read aloud. “Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner.”

Matilda folds her arms and gently rests her head upon them, gazing fondly at Jenny, not that she quite noticed, and the out-of-focus glow of the Christmas tree behind her. The fire crackles in the hearth nearby, and they both sip slowly at their sweet tea and nibble on cookies as they read.

They don’t get too far into the book before they both get quite tired. In fact, the book lies open partway through even as they drift off to sleep just after the clock strikes midnight.

But just before they do, they both listen to the old grandfather clock upstairs chime twelve long times, and they smile the faintest bit at one another.

“Happy Christmas, Matilda,” Jenny whispers, tucking a strand of Matilda’s hair behind her ear and leaving a hand on her cheek.

“Happy Christmas, Mummy.”

And they both drifted off to a sound sleep thinking the same thing.

It’s already the happiest I’ve ever had.

—————

thank you all once again for all the love and all the reads. it means more to me than you know <3

and of course another big thank you to everyone who helped this little series happen. all of you, and especially to @churchoftheconfusedchicken (here and ao3) and @serene-sapphic (here, serenesapphic on ao3). much love to them <3

if you celebrate i hope you had a wonderful holiday season, and if you don’t i hope you had a wonderful few weeks and enjoyed these chapters.

i’ll see you all in the new year!! thank you all for making this very tough year a little bit brighter :)

lots of love,

ezzy

#matilda #matilda roald dahl #matilda 1996 #matilda the musical #matilda 2022 #matildamas #matildamas day 12

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fatfables · 2 months

Text

Big Ben (3 of 3)

The winter was even harder on Ben’s health than the summer had been. He hated going out in the cold and started to stay in bed all day to stay warm. His hands and feet now often felt frozen cold. He would try to warm them by drinking vodka. His nerves now had him on four packs a day. Thank God for the beautiful Diego and his daily deliveries.

The lovers spent Christmas together and what a feast they had. Diego fed Ben more than ever. Christmas dinner was massive, a fat turkey that could easily have fed a family of six. Mountains of roasted and mashed potatoes, big bowls full of roast vegetables, and pints of thick milky gravy. Ben wondered how Diego could afford all this but didn’t ask. They shared a whole Christmas cake and Ben also ate a whole Christmas pudding. Diego was also stuffing his own swelling belly. He couldn’t help himself but join in. Stuffing this sad sack of lard was just such good fun. Ben drank like a fish as well. His face grew redder and his limbs more yellow. Everywhere else his skin was a sickly white. His once thick curly hair was now thinning and he heaved and coughed terribly whenever he tried to move. His massive belly hung so long and low. The sight of the state of him made Diego as hard as a rock. He kissed and sniffed at every inch of sweaty unwashed fat. He took in the smell of all the diseased parts of him and pawed all over his obese parts while Ben lay back smoking heavily. He also had a massive boner from watching Diego. This once thin seventeen year old boy was now a chunky twenty year old young man. He had gone from a 28 inch waist to 36 inches in just under three years. His belly, chest, ass, and thighs were all now soft and round. Still hairless, smooth and tanned, he was a real rolly-polly Romeo. Ben couldn’t believe that he had transformed Diego so. He was both turned on and repulsed by himself. They continued to fill each other’s bellies and fucked for hours.

The big day came on their three year anniversary, 18th February 1994. Diego hadn’t realised how close he was the previous evening when he had fed Ben ten pints of lager, four portions of fish and chips, two Sarah Lee gateaus, and three packets of fig rolls. He had left the 25 stone depressed alcoholic on the edge of ecstacy with a promise of more tomorrow. When he returned in the morning though it was obvious that Ben was not at all well. He had pissed himself but had been unable to move to clean it. He was shaking and sweating profusely. His once overblown red face had turned ghostly white and his eyes a kind of dirty yellow. Diego was delighted.

He dropped his shopping bag full of chocolate rolls on the floor and ran over to Ben, “Oh babe, you don’t look well.” His voice was already hinting at a fake level of concern. “You need to feed a fever. Don’t worry I’ll look after you.” He picked the plastic bag back up, opened the first packet of chocolate rolls and started pushing them into Ben’s mouth. He made him eat thirty. He checked Ben’s pulse and it was increasing. He would have to go now before it was too late. He couldn’t bear the thought of missing this after putting in so much hard work. “I gotta go get some more supplies and call someone. I’ll be back soon babe.” He kissed Ben on his pale sweaty cheek and grabbed a handful of belly fat and gave it a good squeeze. He then ran out the door.

He returned an hour later with three litres of vodka, six large brown paper bags with a golden arch logo on them, and a nineteen year old femboy called Danni.

Danni wore red high heels and black lace stockings. He was topless, exposing his curvy midriff and pierced nipples. He wore black eye shadow, had long dark dyed hair, and spoke in a camp cockney accent. “Oh wow babe, he’s actually real! You actually did this. You’re just the best ever.” He leaned over and kissed Diego on the lips. Diego kissed him back and slid two fingers along Danni’s ass crack. “Oh Ben,” he said, “I’ve never introduced you. This is my girlfriend Danni. We’ve been together for the last three and a half years. It was actually her idea to respond to your advert. You have her to thank for getting us together.” “He doesn’t look very grateful,” Danni commented.

Ben looked beyond terrible, his huge belly was convulsing, he completely lacked energy. He tried to speak but was surprised to discover that he couldn’t. Diego came up to him and stuffed a cheeseburger into his mouth, grabbed his chin and forced him to chew it. He noticed a tear running down from Ben’s eye. “Oh don’t be like that. You will always be my Daddy. You’re my Daddy and you fuck me. She’s my girlfriend and I fuck her, It was always going to be this way. I had to prove to her that I could actually do this.” He forced a second cheeseburger into Ben’s mouth before he had even swallowed the first one. “Oh, are you struggling babe,” he said “Let me get you something to wash that down with.” Danni passed him one of the bottles of vodka and he poured all of it into Ben’s mouth. He then fed him three more cheeseburgers. Ben gulped and wretched like he was going to puke, but he didn’t. Diego took his clothes off. His massively hard young dick looked longer and rounder than ever. He did a provocative little dance that caused his own soft fat to gently jiggle. He was so smooth and juicy and powerful. God, Danni loved him. She needed him inside her.

He picked up two more bags of McDonald’s and handed them to Diego. “Feed this dumb fucker up and get this over with. I’m bored of him. He’s so fat and ugly. I need you, not him.”

Diego followed his instructions with joy. Fifteen more burgers and an equal amount of fries went down Ben’s gullet despite the fact that his breathing had become slower and heavier. These were followed by a second bottle of vodka. Everything went dark. Diego slapped him in the face. “Stay awake you fat piece of filthy shit!” he screamed at him. “I need you to see this.” Diego took his pulse again and said, “almost.” Ben was no longer sure what was happening. The whole world was blurry and the pain in his chest was growing stronger. At times he drifted off into his own thoughts, memories of his childhood, of his parents. But then he’d be brought back to the present by Diego stuffing more food into his mouth. Sweet, sweet Diego. How he didn’t deserve this boy. He had used and abused him yet here he was still caring for him even when he was seriously ill. Ben felt like such a piece of shit.

Danni pulled a wooden chair up at the bottom of Ben’s sofa-bed and bent himself over it. His thick pear shaped arse stuck up like a perfect heart shape. He put his finger in his mouth and sucked on it while staring at Diego’s thick cock. He was so impressed that Diego had done this for him. Naked, sexy, tubby, Diego climbed onto the sofa-bed and poured the remainder of the McDonald’s bags into Ben’s mouth. It was mostly cold fries and scraps of chicken nuggets. He stroked the top of Ben’s massively full belly. It was super hot how this tub of lard could keep consuming even on his deathbed. He felt for a pulse in Ben’s neck but struggled to find one as it was so weak. “This is it.” he said. He poured the third bottle of vodka down Ben’s throat, lit two cigarettes and put them both in Ben’s mouth, closed his lips together to hold them in place and gave him a final kiss. “Obrigado papai gordo,” he whispered.

Ben felt the pain surge down his arm. Danni felt the pain as his well hung boyfriend entered him from behind. Diego’s thick thighs slapped against the femboy’s fat pearshaped cheeks. They both moaned and groaned with pleasure. Ben’s chest felt like it had exploded. He could feel his overfull stomach still gurgling away, pointlessly trying to digest his final feast. His massive ball shaped beer belly turned completely yellow as his fat riddled liver had already packed in. It was the first part of him to die. Diego and Danni kept fucking. Their eyes fixed on Ben for any sign of change. Diego stared at his massive yellow balloon belly. The belly he had created. Fuck that filthy fat slob had eaten so fucking much. Diego kept pounding Danni’s ass. Danni was disgusted by the sight of Ben. He was so swollen and misshapen. What sort of loser could ever allow themselves to end up like this? She had always wanted to see someone die and now Diego was making her dream come true. “Harder, harder!” she screamed as Diego picked up the pace. Ben was looking at Diego, he was so beautiful. Sweat was running down Diego’s recently rounder face as he thrusted back and forth. He couldn’t believe that Diego was fucking him. He had been so sinful, so lazy all of his life. What had he ever done to deserve a boyfriend like this?

Diego shouted at Danni to look. He pointed at Ben’s face. “This is it. This is fucking it!” He forced himself in harder, deeper, and faster than ever before. Ben’s eyes were glazed, the lovers could see his brain function fading away behind them. His massive belly rose three or four inches with a long slow intake of breath. “Yes!” screamed Diego. “Fucking Yes!” His last breath out was accompanied with a ghostly deep ‘oooogggghhhh’ sound as his chest rattled. His belly was now completely still. Diego had never felt so much cum shoot out of his dick in one go. Danni felt it all rush inside him and shouted “Weeeee!”

The boys fell onto the floor with exhaustion and lay panting in each other's arms. They stayed in that blissful state for a good twenty minutes or more. They would make passionate love three more times that day before leaving the bedsit.

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