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thewintersoldierdisaster · 3 months

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a/n: i played myself on this one. posted that little barzy blanket thief headcanon post a million years ago and then i had to write this! the pro shop doesn’t sell the themed comfy, which i think it should but whatever. couldn’t resist writing this one and it just got away from me. full disclosure this was written before christmas but i didn’t want to post it in the middle of posting the other christmas fics so i held it back for a little bit! enjoy!!

word count: 6.2k

tw: brief unprotected sex, fingering, dirty talk, protected sex

summary: mat’s a blanket thief and tries to make it up to you

In theory, the king sized mattress that you’d bought for the new house was meant to stop Mat from stealing all of your blankets in the middle of the night. What with king sized sheets and blankets and comforters to go along with the king sized mattress, the thought was that Mat would have more than enough of his own coverings without having to take yours too.

Wrong. So wrong.

Every night for the first week in the new house, Mat rolls himself into a little burrito of blankets, cocooned up in the warmth that you’re missing. He’s oblivious to it too, which is extra annoying for some reason. It’s not even like he normally sleeps all rolled up in the covers. Usually Mat’s a restless sleeper, all that energy trying to escape even when he’s asleep, and he’s starfished on the mattress or rolling from one side to the other. Only after games or travel days does he pass out like the dead, after, of course, working you into the mattress and making sure you both have at least one orgasm.

For whatever reason lately, even when he’s got an off day, he’s been sleeping like a log, moving only to pull the covers over his shoulders and rolling them around his body.

“Mat,” you hiss his name, pulling at the comforter. He doesn’t budge at all. “Mat!”

If anything, he wraps himself tighter in the blankets.

You let out a frustrated little growl and pull harder, planting your foot flat against his outer thigh, or where you assume his outer thigh is, and kick a little, trying to get some leverage. Mat grunts a little in his sleep and shifts his lower body away from you, taking the blankets with him.

You flop back against your side of the bed, exposed to the elements and freezing. Stupid fucking Mat and his “the bedroom has to be at sixty-five degrees so we get the best possible sleep” arguments. A chill runs down your spine and you scowl to yourself, yanking at the little bit of sheet you managed to keep him from taking, wrapping it around yourself and snuggling up close against his back for a little warmth.

The next morning, as usual, Mat’s awake before you and you’ve got the covers back, having subconsciously pulled them over your body when he left the bed. Groaning at the thought of having to leave the warm bed, you drag a hand over your face before slowly getting up and padding to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face. Feet shoved into Ugg slippers that have seen better days and pulling a sweatshirt over your head, you make your way down to the kitchen where you find Mat making himself eggs at the stove. You lean a hip against the kitchen island, watching him for a few minutes, the way his muscles work as he’s cooking, bare back displayed just for you. His sweats hang low on his hips and you want to press your hands against his lower back.

“Staring’s rude, Squeaks,” he says on a laugh. Without turning from the stove, he gestures to the counter with the spatula in his hand, “coffee’s hot.”

“Stealing all the blankets from your poor frozen girlfriend is also rude,” you reply deadpan, reaching up for your favorite mug and pouring yourself a generous serving of coffee. You doctor it up with sugar cookie flavored creamer and wrap your hands around the ceramic to warm them up before taking a sip.

Now he turns to face you and his eyes go wide and his eyebrows lift up his forehead. “Ah, shit. I’m still doing that even with the bigger bed?”

“Mhm,” you confirm with a roll of your eyes. “I’d say we should upgrade to a California King, but you’d probably keep doing it.” An amused smirk plays on your lips and Mat grimaces.

He sets the spatula down and flips off the burner before coming over to stand in between your legs. You keep your mug held up by your chest as a barrier. “I’m sorry, babe,” he brushes the tip of his nose against yours. His hands fall to your hips, sliding up underneath the fabric of your sweatshirt. His palms are warm and rough against your skin and you shiver a little. His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts and you can’t help yourself from pushing your chest further into his hands. “You should’ve woken me up, I would’ve given you the blankets back.”

A startled laugh bursts out of your mouth and Mat looks briefly offended. The pads of his thumbs freeze on your nipples.

“What?” He asks, flicking a nipple with his fingernail. You press your thighs together. “I can share.”

“If you,” you start, stuttering a little as Mat’s fingers roll over your nipples, “think that it’s just that easy to wake you up, you’re delusional.”

Mat huffs a laugh and you yelp when he pinches down hard. The menace. He knows he’s a heavy sleeper. You reach behind you to set your coffee mug down on the counter, afraid that the hot brew is going to spill everywhere. “Aw, come on,” he teases, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “it’s so easy to wake me up.” His hands continue their work under your sweatshirt and you feel your panties growing damp.

“Mmm?” You hum, letting your knee rub up against the outside of Mat’s thigh slowly, opening yourself up to him. “I kicked you twice and not even a peep.” Your hands come up to lock around Mat’s neck. Your fingers play in the shirt bristles of Mat’s hair and you wish, not for the first time in months, that he would let his hair grow in again.

He lets his hands slide down your sides again, one over your stomach and one around your back. “Your mistake,” he says, pulling you closer so your core is flush up against the hard ridge of his erection. You grind against him mindlessly, tension building low in your stomach, already forgetting why you were annoyed. “I don’t respond to kicking,” his hand works its way underneath your sweats and grabs a palmful of your ass. The other hand remains frustratingly warm against your lower stomach, the tips of his fingers just barely brushing against the elastic of your panties. “Gotta be nicer to me, baby.”

“Oh yeah?” You breathe, wiggling against him, scratching your nails absently against his scalp. “What do you suggest?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs, kneading your ass with one hand. “Could’ve wrapped that pretty mouth around my dick.”

Fire pools in your stomach even as you giggle. “And how would I have penetrated that cocoon of blankets you stole?” You ask tartly, raising an eyebrow. Before Mat can answer, you continue, “besides, blow jobs are a reward for good boys.”

Mat’s ears go pink, but he smirks at you. “Just like getting your pussy licked is for good girls?”

Your cheeks heat and arousal floods between your legs, a little gasp punching from your lungs. You try to press your thighs together, but Mat’s hand is lightning fast, sliding under the band of your panties and cupping you in one warm, broad palm. You squeal at the sudden contact, grinding down onto his hand. “Maaat,” you whine his name, his fingers stroking gently between your folds, teasing at your entrance. He uses his grip on your ass to drag you closer to his chest and you allow him, knees feeling weak as his fingers play with you.

Your hands drift down to his biceps, gripping them for dear life to keep you upright. “Stop teasing,” you hiss, the tip of his middle finger sliding inside of you. You clench around him, chasing his hand and your pleasure.

“So fucking wet, babe,” Mat grins, dropping his forehead to yours. His hand never stops moving, drawing you closer to the peak of your pleasure. “So good for me.”

All the blood in your body rushes to your cunt at the praise and your back is arching, pressing Mat’s fingers deeper. He holds the pad of his thumb firmly over your clit and squeezes your ass, slanting his mouth over yours to muffle the moan that escapes when he rubs against your clit. Your toes curl in your slippers and your head falls back, legs trembling with the force of your orgasm as it washes over you. Mat’s fingers guide you through the aftershocks for a few lazy moments and you drop your chin to your chest, breathing hard.

“Why was I mad at you?” You mumble, laughing breathlessly. You wiggle your hips, starting to get overstimulated and uncomfortable with Mat’s hand still down the front of your panties. He takes the hint and pulls his hand out of your pants. His fingers are wet with your arousal as they brush against your lower stomach and you shiver happily.

Casually, he sticks his middle and ring fingers in his mouth to suck them clean, releasing them with a wet pop. “‘Cause I steal blankets,” he replies, without really thinking. He realizes his mistake a beat later, hazel eyes going wide and jaw dropping open. “Aw, fuck. If I haul you up on the counter and eat you out will you forget I said that?”

“Nope!” Your giggle turns into a shriek as you try to escape Mat’s lunging hands. He digs his fingers into your sides, tickling you mercilessly. “Nooo! Mat! Stop! No tickling-“

“Gonna make you forget about the blankets one way or another,” Mat laughs, holding your squirming body tightly. Your ass presses against his crotch and he hisses, biting gently on your shoulder.

“Never! If I forget, you’ll just steal them again,” your words are stuttered from laughter and you fight Mat’s hands. He’s stronger and manages to wrestle you to the kitchen floor, pinning your wrists above your head, straddling your lap, knees on either side of your hips. His sweats ride low and the chain around his neck sways with the momentum. His cock bobs behind his sweats and you swallow harshly. Mat grins down at you, flattening his body to yours, his cock pressing insistently against your stomach. He kisses the edge of your jaw as you wiggle under him.

“You look pretty warm to me,” Mat teases, rolling his hips against yours. The hard heat of his erection makes your thighs tremble.

You wrinkle your nose at him, fully aware that he has the upper hand in your positioning. “You’re going to be late to practice,” you say, even as your hips lift to his subconsciously.

“Always plenty of time to fuck my girl silly,” he says lightly, bumping his cock against your cunt again. “As long as she forgives me for being a blanket thief.”

“Mmm,” you whine, heat prickling up your spine, “you’re forgiven. Just…I need you.”

Mat’s teeth scrape at your jaw and one hand lets go of your wrists, moving between your bodies and tugging your sweats and panties down in one swift move. The cold kitchen tile against your bare ass has you yelping and instinctively bucking your hips off the ground, up into Mat’s hips. He soothes a hand over your inner thigh before pulling his sweats down enough to free his cock. You crane your neck to look down at him, grinning when you see the tip of him, groaning when he bumps it against your clit. Shocks of pleasure ripple through your body and you whine again, heels kicking against the floor, dripping for him.

“Gonna give you everything, ‘kay?” Mat mumbles, gripping the base of his cock and guiding it to your entrance, letting the tip slip inside of you. His head falls forward on a groan and you grind down on him, trying to get more.

“Just not - can’t come inside,” you babble, bucking your hips up into his. “Not without a condom.”

“I’ll pull out,” he promises and you know he means it. You’re on birth control and neither of you is ready for kids. “Gotta fuck you good. Make you come on my cock and gonna finish in your mouth.”

His words are punctuated with harsh thrusts that have your back sliding against the floor. Your free hand roams Mat’s body, scratching against his chest and arm, fingers tangling briefly in the chain around his neck. You egg him on, reaching down to dig your nails into his hips. “C’mon, Mat. Harder, please!” You beg, meeting him thrust for thrust.

“Fuck. Fuck, so good. You’re so perfect, baby,” Mat grunts, leaning down to kiss you and changing the angle so he hits harder and deeper inside of you. “Gonna fuck you everywhere in this house. Every wall, every floor.”

Your body tenses up with pleasure, gasps and moans leaving your lips along with Mat’s name. Your orgasm builds heavy and fast in your stomach, clit throbbing from the drag of Mat’s pelvis against the swollen, sensitive nub. “Gonna - Mat, please!” You cut off in a wail when his free hand finds your clit and pinches it, sending you over the edge of pleasure, sparks dancing in your vision, arousal leaking from your cunt down the curve of your ass. Your hand slaps against the floor, fingers scrabbling for purchase as he continues fucking into you, the hard, hot drag of his bare cock making you stupid.

Mat’s hips continue pistoning into yours and you’re faintly aware of the slapping of skin against skin underneath his babbling. “Jesus, so fucking pretty when you come. Love that face, love that I made you make that face,” the words fall from his mouth without him even focusing on them, too busy working his cock in and out of you.

You watch his shoulders tense up, feel his thrusts falter a little and you know he’s close. “Mat, not - no baby,” you remind him, pushing at his shoulder, hand slipping down to his chest, stomach, hip.

“Fuck,” he groans, pumping into you once more before pulling out completely, the sudden loss of him inside of you leaving you feeling too empty. You slide your own hand from his hip and let your fingers skate over your clit lazily, not really working yourself towards another orgasm, but just easing the empty feeling. Mat’s hand grips the base of his cock, jacking himself once, twice, three times before his entire body goes taut and he comes all over your sweatshirt covered chest, too far gone to even give you a chance to try and get your mouth on him. “Sorry, baby, sorry. I’ll buy you a new one. I couldn’t—“ he mutters around the groans and slick sounds of his palm sliding over his cock.

When he’s done, the hand holding yours above your head loosens and Mat flops down onto his back next to you. His cock is softening against his thigh and you have a literal puddle of his cum warming your skin through the material of your sweatshirt. Your ass is cold against the tile, wet where your arousal had dripped down the curve. You roll your neck and look at Mat, watching his chest heave while he catches his breath. His cheeks are pink from exertion and his limbs are completely limp.

“We’re disgusting,” you comment on a laugh, afraid to move.

“Why didn’t you say the tile was so cold on your ass?” Mat replies, lifting his hips so he can pull his sweats back up. You watch with a little pout as his cock disappears under the sweats, a little wet spot forming and turning the fabric a darker grey.

“I was a little busy getting railed on the kitchen floor,” you deadpan. “That I’m going to have to clean with, like, bleach now.”

Mat rolls onto his side, props his head up on his elbow, and gives you such a mischievous, shit-eating grin that you kick out your foot to make contact with his shin. “What’s with that look?” You comment, wiggling your sweats back up over your lower body. He whines a little.

“Just thinking about how hard up we were that I had to fuck you on the floor,” he laughs, his fingers coming over to tug on a piece of your hair.

“If anyone hears about this,” you warn, half-joking, half-serious, “I swear to God that I will never give you a blowjob again.”

A laugh startles out of his chest and Mat promises he won’t say anything, defends himself that he doesn’t usually talk about your sex life with the guys anyway.

“That includes Beau,” you warn him, carefully wiggling into a sitting position, wincing when Mat’s cum slides down your chest and pools in the fabric of gathered on your lap. “This is so gross, Mat.”

“He’s my best friend!” Mat yelps. “I tell him everything.” You whip your head in his direction, eyes wide and mouth dropped open a bit. There is no way Beau knows everything about sex life. Mat backtracks, his hands up in surrender, “not everything. I didn’t mean everything. He knows a lot, but not about the time we almost killed each other in the shower or the time I almost —“

You clap a hand over his mouth, muffling his ramble. “Enough. Oh my god. You seriously need to get a filter,” you can’t help the little disbelieving laugh that works its way out of your mouth. Shaking your head, you mutter to yourself, “to think this all started because you’re a fucking blanket thief.”

Mat opens his mouth under your hand to defend himself and you can physically see him gearing up for a long ramble, so you shake your head. “No, nope. Go get yourself cleaned up for practice. I need to get myself in a completely different headspace for the day,” you laugh. “Fucked on the kitchen floor was not how I pictured my week starting.”

Mat licks your palm so you’ll pull it away from his face. You grimace at him and wipe your hand on his bare chest, the faint smattering of dark hair over his chest tickling your skin. “Don’t say that’s gross, Squeaks,” he teases, leaning in to kiss you, “I’ve had my tongue all over that body.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “it’s the principle of the licking. Now leave me, I have to figure out how to get this sweatshirt off without making more of a mess and it’s not going to be cute.”

He laughs at you and gets to his feet, dropping a kiss to the top of your head. “Whatever you want, babe. I’ll be back down in a few to finish making breakfast.”

You’d almost forgotten that Mat had been cooking when you came downstairs. Thank God he’d turned off the stove. As he heads back upstairs, you drop back onto your back, arms spread out to your sides. What a fucking morning.

——-

Mat’s out of town for a few days, a mini road trip that has him gone from your bed for nearly a week, and so you get the bed and blankets all to yourself. You’ve more or less forgotten about Mat’s thieving habits when you have the thick comforters wrapped securely around your body.

So when Mat comes home on a Saturday afternoon, lugging a giant shopping bag along with his suitcase and duffel bag, you’re a little curious and a lot confused.

“Plane snacks?” You tease after accepting a hello kiss from him.

“Those didn’t even make it out of the Tampa airport,” he grins, setting the bag on the couch. “This is even better.”

You lean over the back of the couch and watch as Mat pulls a blue and orange something out of the bag. He shakes it out and you recognize it as the extra long Islanders-logo patterned, hooded Comfy that’s being sold in the pro shop at the Northwell rink. Mat holds it out in front of him with a little “ta-dah!” and a big, cheesy grin on his face.

“What is that?” You ask rhetorically, hand reaching out of its own accord to touch the fleecy fabric. It’s soft, you’ll give him that.

“It’s one of those Comfy things, for you to wear when I steal blankets,” he laughs. “I haven’t forgotten what happened last week.”

Instinctively, your gaze cuts to the spot on the kitchen floor that you’d scrubbed three times with bleach. Mat’s eyes follow yours and his grin turns into a feral little smirk. “Haven’t forgotten that either,” he continues. “But try it on.”

“This is ridiculous,” you say, grabbing for the hooded blanket. Pulling it over your jeans and t-shift, your voice is muffled, “you could always just stop making a cocoon out of the blankets - oh!”

It’s extremely soft, the Comfy. The hood is oversized enough that the hem of it flops over your eyes, obscuring your view of Mat, and keeping your head nice and warm. The sleeves hang a few inches past your hands and the bottom of it comes to your mid-shin. It’s like wearing a space heater. You wrap your arms around yourself and sway a little, giggling.

“I actually love this?” You can’t believe it. There’s so much room and you know that if you were sitting on the couch you could tuck your legs up under the fabric and still have plenty of space. “Okay, we still have to train you not to steal blankets, but this is a nice temporary solution.”

Mat’s laugh is delighted and you flip back the hood to look at him. “You’re adorable in that,” he says, coming around the back of the couch to get into your personal space. “Gonna share with me?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” you giggle, dancing away from him, the fleece swishing around your legs. “This is my reward!”

“For what?” Mat cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Putting up with you,” you retort, hands on your hips, knowing you look insane in your new getup.

Mat grabs for the fabric, snagging it between two long fingers and pulling you into him. “Babe,” he kisses your cheek, “you give just as good as you get.”

You cuddle up against his chest, head tucked under his chin and arms wrapped around his waist. “Missed you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Missed you too,” his arms tighten around your back. “How about we do something fun tonight? I’ll take you out for dinner too.”

——-

The Comfy works wonders even though Mat continues to steal the blankets. More often than not, you’re wearing the giant hoodie to bed, tucking your legs up underneath and curling up in a little ball.

Mat loves the stupid thing too - if you’re wearing it while laying on the couch, he’ll crawl up underneath it too, laying on top of you, chest to chest, like a giant weighted blanket. The head hole isn’t quite big enough for both of you, so usually the top of Mat’s head is bumping up against your chin while he rests his cheek against your chest, groping and mouthing at your breasts.

“It’s hot under here,” he complains, voice muffled. He’s kneading one of your breasts in his giant hand, lazily grinding his half-hard cock against your thigh.

“The Comfy is only meant for one person,” you sigh. You’re getting sweaty and worked up from Mat’s body heat. “It’s a giant fleece blanket, what did you expect?”

“Dunno,” Mat says against your shirt, licking your nipple through the thin cotton. You arch your back, pressing your breast into his mouth. “Wasn’t really thinking.”

He bites the underside of your breast and you wince, even as a spark of pleasure fires low in your stomach. You’re surprised that you don’t have a permanent mark there - Mat’s a biter.

“Story of your life, Mathew,” you murmur affectionately. “How about I take the portable sauna off and you fuck me into the couch properly?”

Still under the Comfy, Mat tries to sit up, gets tangled in the fabric and before you know it, you’re both falling off the couch and landing on the floor in a pile. Your knee drives into Mat’s thigh, your elbow in his stomach and he grunts with pain. Your head takes a glancing hit to the edge of the coffee table and you see stars briefly. “Fuck,” you drag the curse out for a few extra seconds. Mat’s wiggling underneath you, trying to get out from the confines of the fabric.

“Are you okay?” You ask, trying to roll off of him and help pull the fabric away from his body. Mat’s face is bright red, but he looks okay.

“No one can ever know about that,” he says seriously.

You laugh and he breaks, cracking up too. “How about we never discuss our sex life outside of the relationship cone of silence?” You hold out your hand for him to shake.

“Deal,” he shakes your hand once, snorting a laugh. He leans up into a sitting position. “Can I still fuck you into the couch?”

“I think I’d be kind of insulted if you didn’t,” you pull the Comfy over your head and toss it off to the side before crawling into Mat’s lap so you can wind your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply. Mat’s hands roam up your back, under your shirt, pulling you closer to him. You rock your hips, grinding down over his cock and Mat moans into your mouth. He braces one arm around your lower back and gets up on his knees to lift you onto the couch, pressing you back into the cushions. He settles into the cradle of your hips, your thighs coming up to wrap around his waist, ankles crossing at his lower back.

He grinds his cock against your cunt and you whine into his mouth, breaking the kiss to say, “want it hard and fast, Mat. Don’t be sweet, just fuck me hard, okay?”

Mat’s pupils are blow so wide you can’t see any of his hazel irises. He nods like a bobble head, “yeah, fuck yeah, baby. Whatever you need.”

He makes quick work of your pants, leaning back on his knees to get both of you bare from the waist down. His jaw goes slack when he sees just how wet you are for him, his hands holding your thighs open so he can just stare for a bit. “Jesus,” he mutters and your cheeks warm. You kick at the back of his thigh, startling Mat.

“If you don’t get a condom on in the next thirty seconds,” you say, fighting past the blush that’s heating your entire body, “I can’t guarantee that I won’t just take matters into my own hands.”

Mat laughs hoarsely and springs into action, reaching for one of the little side drawers on the coffee table. A strip of condoms is hidden away there just for times like these. Your hands are already sliding down your stomach to tease at your throbbing clit. Mat catches sight of you and smacks your hands away, the condoms in his other hand. “Oh no way,” he growls. “I still have twenty seconds.”

You laugh and start a little countdown, making Mat’s fingers fumble on the foil wrappings. He scowls at you and shifts so one knee is pressed firmly against your cunt. You break off into a surprised moan, head thrown back against the couch cushion, “Mat!”

He shifts his knee, moving it slightly so your throbbing clit catches against his leg hair and you whine, grinding down harder on him. “You’re not gonna touch yourself,” he warns, finally getting the condom open and rolled down his straining erection, “are you, baby?”

“No, no,” the words stutter out of your chest as Mat keeps moving his knee against you. Your hands fly out to clutch the couch cushions and Mat grins down at you.

“This pussy’s mine,” he says, planting one foot on the floor and keeping one knee bent on the couch so he can stabilize himself. You whine at the loss of contact from your cunt, but the noise gets choked off in the next second when Mat grabs your hips and thrusts into you in one swift punch of his hips. His hips smack against yours as he bottoms out and you cry his name in a babble of breathless chants.

“Told you,” he grunts, pumping into you and using his grip on your hips to push and pull you closer, your ass hitting high up on his thighs. “Mine, fucking mine.”

Your legs lock around his hips, thighs trembling, heels pushing against the top of his ass. “Oh - god, more! Mat!” Your fingertips turn white from how hard you’re grabbing at the couch cushions, your body sliding up with the force of Mat’s thrusts. Your breath hiccups out of your lungs, fire burning in your veins. Every hit of his cock against your g-spot has you screaming his name.

“Fucking -“ Mat grunts, jaw slack as he watches where his cock splits you open, disappearing into your soaked cunt. “Gorgeous. Fucking all for me, baby.”

You need more, just a little more to push you over the edge. Mat usually pays attention to your clit, helping you finish, but he’s pounding into you hard and fast, just like you asked, so you reach a shaking hand down and circle your fingertips around your clit, arching your back with the added stimulation. Mat growls over you and bats your hand away, not stopping his pace.

“Told you no touching,” he huffs, pulling your hips flush against his and holding you there, his cock throbbing inside of your cunt. “Ask for it, baby.”

Tears slip out of the corners of your eyes and trail down your temples. You whine, “wanna touch my clit, Mat. Need it.”

Instead of touching you, Mat’s hands tighten on your hips and circle them slowly over his cock, your clit pressed tightly against the dark hair at his base, making you moan, eyes squeezed shut hard enough for you to see stars.

“Come on, baby,” Mat mumbles, watching you fall apart. “Come for me, gonna make you cum. Right here on my cock.” He pulls his hips back, all but the tip of him leaving your body and you babble at him, trying to grab at his wrists to pull him back in. “Who’s gonna make you cum?” He asks, snapping his hips back against yours, harsh and fast.

“You!” You wail, dragging out the word for several seconds, barely breathing as Mat bullies the orgasm from your body, holding your hips to his as you clench around him, shaking in his grip. Pleasure loosens all of your limbs as you gush around Mat, crying his name.

He strokes his thumbs over your hipbones and pumps into you a handful more times, but you’re barely aware of him filling the condom with a shout of your name, your head fuzzy with post-orgasm haze. Mat breathes heavily over you, slumping slightly to the side as he finishes, loosening his grip on you. You blink sleepily up at him, a lazy, satisfied smile forming on your lips. “What?” He asks, voice raspy and smoky.

“Just really like your face,” your smile turns a little wicked, “‘specially when you’re cumming.” You wrangle your features into a caricature of his orgasm face. “Looks like this.”

Mat pinches your hip and pulls out of you, wincing when he takes the condom off and ties off the end. “Yeah? Yours looks like this,” he throws his head back dramatically, squeezes his eyes shut, and drops his mouth open, letting his tongue flop out like he’s a corpse on a terrible soap opera.

You bark a laugh, kicking at him. “I do not!”

“Do too,” Mat grins, leaning down to cup your jaw and kiss you with tongue and teeth. “Good thing I think you’re the fucking hottest woman on the planet.” He climbs off the couch to toss the condom and you watch his ass as he walks away. It should literally be a crime to have an ass that tight. Your clit gives a pathetic little throb as you watch him, used and abused but so ready to go another round. You slip a hand between your legs, rolling the swollen nub between your fingers gently.

“Can we implement like naked weekends around here?” You ask, popping your head over the back of the couch. Mat’s laughter echoes through the kitchen.

“You know I’m never gonna say no to that,” he replies, and then in the next second, his t-shirt is flying through the air and landing on your head. “In fact, let’s start now.”

——-

You get in late from girls’ night - it’s close to one in the morning - and you know Mat’s asleep. He’d texted you around midnight, a typo-filled message that essentially said he was going to bed, but if you wanted to wake him with a blow job he wouldn’t be opposed to it. You’d snorted a laugh at the message, hiding your screen from the other girls while you typed back a definitive no. He’d replied with a pouting selfie that you ignored. You figure he’d gone to bed shortly after that since the boys have a game later in the day.

The house is dark when you get home, just a few of the under cabinet lights on in the kitchen so you don’t trip on anything.

You make your way slowly up to your bedroom, unsteady on your feet, discarding your shoes and clothes as you go. All you want to do is curl up in bed and pass out.

There’s a lump of blankets on one side of the bed that tells you Mat is passed out under there. Sure enough, when you get closer, you can see one of his bare feet poking out from the bottom of the covers. You smile faintly to yourself, getting rid of the last of your clothes and rummaging around in a drawer for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. The alcohol has your body feeling overly warm so you don’t bother with retrieving your Comfy from the closet. You’ll manage with whatever blankets you can wrestle away from Mat.

The bed is nice and warm from Mat’s body heat and you settle happily on your side of the bed, cricketing your feet a little to really warm things up. Mat hasn’t wrapped himself all up yet, so you scoot closer to him, planning on pressing your chest against his back and spooning him, but instead of feeling bare skin or the cotton of a t-shirt, your fingers are met with a familiar fleecy material.

“What the fuck?” you forget to whisper and your voice is loud and echoes around the room. You squint and pull back the blankets that are partially covering Mat’s head.

The royal blue and orange of the Islanders’ logo comes into view and your jaw drops when it finally clicks that Mat’s wearing your Comfy to bed. The hood is secured over his head and his hands are tucked into the sleeves.

“Oh my god!” You shove at Mat’s shoulder and he startles.

“Hnghh?” He grunts, rolling onto his back, yawning.

“You took my Comfy!” You jab at his arm and Mat’s eyes crack open.

A faint, sleepy smile curves his lips. “Hey, babe,” he mumbles, reaching a hand out for you. “Have fun with the girls?” He stretches, blankets shifting around.

“Don’t ’hey, babe’ me!” You grumble, pulling at the blankets. “You literally gave me that because you take my blankets. Now you take my Comfy?”

Mat yawns again, jaw cracking. He doesn’t look apologetic at all. “It’s warm,” he whines, grabbing your hand to pull you closer. “And it smells like you.”

You go to him despite yourself, scooting over and curling up against his side, tucking your shoulder under his armpit. Your legs brush against his and you frown. “Are you naked in my Comfy, Mathew?” You yelp, pulling at the fleece fabric. “You cannot be serious!”

“I have boxers on!” He laughs in protest, swatting your hands away from him. “I’m not gross.”

“Yes, you are,” you grumble, growing sleepy again. “I want a new one now that you’ve taken this one.”

He slings his legs over yours, arms holding you close as he kisses your forehead. “I can share, Squeaks. I’m a generous boyfriend,” he laughs against your hair. You press closer to his warmth, burying your face in his chest.

“You failed sharing in kindergarten, Mat,” you tease quietly. He slaps your ass gently and you giggle, curling up closer to him.

“So mean to me,” you can hear the pout in his voice. “Definitely not sharing now. Gonna buy my own Comfy.”

——

When Mat comes home from practice three days later, he’s toting another giant bag that he hadn’t left the house with.

You eye it suspiciously and he’s laughing like a lunatic as he pulls out another Comfy, declaring, “we match, Squeaks.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh. You didn’t think he was actually serious about getting his own.

Mat pulls the fabric over his head and does a little twirl for you, holding his arms out. “How do I look?” He asks, striking a dramatic pose, pushing his lips out in an exaggerated duck face.

“Like the hottest oversized fleece hoodie model in the world,” you reply, reaching out to grab the fabric and pull him in for a kiss.

#mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal fic #mat barzal imagine

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hungrykeaton · 5 months

Text

youtube

Have a belly busting video everyone ;) They seriously make these burritos damn HUGE! Like they are the size of my arm its insane. And I just love watching them make it too because they keep just walking down all the ingredients and asking what else I want on it. And I just keep naming everything my greedy eyes can see. Got to see that burrito grow bigger and taller with each plop of extra ingredient ughhhh.

Also when I was ordering this time the burrito maker kept asking if I wanted extra brisket too and like of course I have to say yes to that. Plus literally everytime I order it someone always mentions how its so big and they can't quite finish it. But they don't know me, they don't know that I'm a greedy hog deep down who is never full. Its definitely meant for 2 or more people but I know that's how much I always wanna shove in my gut. (Also plopping down and watching exercise videos for a bit while eating also is kinda 'fun' for me. Something about the encouraging motivation to keep going and stuff...)

Ugh it just tasted so good too. Like even though its the size of my own forearm unwrapping it and chowing down on it was delicious. I just wanted to keep on stuffing it down more and more with each bite. Even though each just made my big gut swell up bigger with burrito and fat.

My gut's gotten big again I think... I wasn't trying to blow up too big again but I may have messed up because it feels so big. I had to get a bigger wardrobe already and we're not even done with December yet! I'm getting nervous my big gut is gonna make me look like fucking Santa by the end of the year...

But I just want more, more burritos, and burgers, and just more FOOD all the time around me. Just let me lean back and gorge myself so that there isn't a literal inch of room left inside of my massive ball gut. I just wanna eat and gorge and watch movies and TV like a mindless bottomless pit. Unable to stop cramming the food in my mouth which only makes my belly even bigger.

I can't stop eating, can't stop getting fatter. I just want bigger and bigger portions each time. Always ordering the most, eating it, and asking others to finish their plate too. I just can't stop filling my gut with food, it needs more it always needs more. It sometimes feels as though something primal inside of me to just feast and eat at every opportunity. To keep asking for more food, to keep trying to eat more and push more inside of me. I NEED more inside of me. Doesn't matter if we just ate, lets get another burger so I can keep forcing food down into me. Hey are we going to the arcade? They have pizza there right? Just every where I go addicted to eating and feeding myself.

It's not even hunger anymore. It's just something more than that. Because I'm definitely not hungry after eating an entire gut busting burrito. But still I want more. I want more cookies, or pasta, or burgers, or pizza. My gut is groaning with all that food crammed in it and I'm patting it just saying I wish I had more. Why? Why do I want more?! Why can't I just stop? My gut won't let me stop eating until it feels like its going to burst. Until I literally am gasping for air because my GUT cannot physically stretch anymore.

Also going to see Buttonspop again too tomorrow and I think we're gonna have another food filled time that's going to really put the strain on my new pants...

#keaton #vids #stuffed belly #Youtube

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kisakis-boyfriend · 4 months

Note

idk if you know that burrito blanket meme but perhaps a request for cold weather and toasty blankets?? wrapping up mikey in a blanket like a burrito and fucking him that way so he cant get away or move his limbs??

Pairings: Mikey x reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, sub/bottom!Mikey, bondage technically LOL, creampie, whiny/childish Mikey

Genre/Format: Smut; Oneshot

Author's Note: I think I know exactly what you're talking about, anon. Or maybe it's a similar meme lol. The one I saw goes like: "Sad sushi -> roll sushi in blanket -> place sushi roll on couch -> dick that sushi nice and hard! -> happy lil sushi roll!"

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

“Y/n it's sooo cooold!!” Mikey groaned for what seemed like the millionth time today. He did this every single time you had to stop cuddling. Bathroom break? Mikey complains. Go grab a snack/drink? Mikey whines. Fetch another blanket since it's “freezing”? Mikey holds onto your arm so that you can't walk away

“C'mon, cuddle with me!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose before turning around to face him again. “Mikey I need to pee. It only takes me like, two minutes. Not even.”

“What if I freeze to death before you get back!” Ok now he is really being dramatic...

“You're not gonna freeze, Mikey. I'll be right back.” As you shut the door to the bathroom you could hear the exaggerated moans and groans of your partner. Whining into the couch cushion like a child. If he was really so cold, then you'll find a way to keep him nice and toasty

As soon as you finish up in the bathroom, you dash over to the closet and pull out another blanket, bringing it back to the living room in a huff. Mikey looks up at you with outstretched arms, silently begging for more cuddles. Instead you make him stand up so that you can wrap the blanket around him — effectively turning your boyfriend into a warm burrito

“Heeeyy!! Y/n, how am I supposed to cuddle with you now?” He whined, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. Your response was pushing his fluffy self back onto the couch, pulling his pants and underwear down in one swift motion

“Y-y/n—?!” Mikey gulped, getting pulled by his thighs so that his legs now rested on either side of your waist

A glare silenced the boy rather quickly. Shrinking down in his little cocoon while you explained, “If you wanna be whiny I'm going to fuck you until you're too stupid to speak, understand?” You said with no real malice, simply a warning for Mikey not to push your buttons too much

Mikey whimpered but nodded nonetheless. Watching as you spit on your cock and stroked yourself a little. He knew exactly what was coming next— a familiar pang of pain hit his nerves when you pressed the tip of your dick inside of him. Pushing past the rim a little at a time

Another glob of spit fell onto his entrance and your tip, acting as shoddy lube. The burning stretch caused Mikey to wince, scrunching his face up as you filled him halfway. You shushed him, gently caressing his tensed thighs and petting his hair as you allowed him to adjust some more

Shallow thrusts helped him get used to your size, eventually leading into full on slamming into Mikey's hole like he was nothing more than a fleshlight. Deep and hard. Using his current burrito state as a means to dick him down as hard as you could; surely bruising his poor thighs

“Fffuck– Gonna cum, Mikey—!! ” You groaned, an iron grip around his little legs. “Gonna fill you with somethin' nice and warm, babe~ ” Gazing down at your baby boy's fucked out expression is what tipped you over the edge — cumming with a choked moan

When you eventually pulled out, some of your cum dribbled out and down Mikey's ass, eliciting adorable sounds from him. Maybe while he's stuck like this you'll fill him a little more? Keep him warm and cozy with your cum bloating his tummy

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padawansuggest · 8 months

Text

Obi-Wan in his natural habitat in the temple sleeps in a loft bed (it was supposed to be storage he said cat instinct and turned it into a loft bed they’re shockingly common with Jedi tbh tho) and under 17 fluffy blankets with a pregnancy pillow (he’s not pregnant he just can’t sleep off his stomach if he don’t got one and sometimes autism requires squishing to keep it all down) and three more fluffy blankets on top of him. He has an optional Padawan or pet (not really a pet, just whomever followed him how from the gardens today) in bed with him also. And he’s got a projector on the wall and has a night stand with water and gaming devices so he can survive up there forever.

The clones, who have learned to sleep with full kute coverings and usually without blankets or pillows cause they just pass out on each other, most of whom identified with their Jedi for having similar sleeping types if they weren’t human, realize they are quite horrified by his Stewjoni nesting instinct. And he’s offended and refuses to sleep with any of them till they apologize to his favorite stuffed animal for insulting his HOUSE. Fuck you bitches he and Master Sparkle Bantha deserve better.

Cody is groveling while Alpha is still trying to negotiate a less intense number of blankets and Anakin is just shaking his head like ‘it’s not worth it Bro’ and Alpha is like ‘shut up ur an omega too you brat’ and that’s the last straw, you called them omegas now Cody is asking what an omega is and Alpha is trying to figure out how to keep his AO3 account hidden from his vod’e and nvm he’ll sleep in the barracks forever-

Obi-Wan holds this info over his head like a guillotine and convinced him to get in the damn nest right this second and cuddle him better.

If you don’t sleep with at least two comforters and a queen sized fuzzy blanket then I don’t trust you. Yes I refuse to trust my sister and wife okay. Everything in the world has a downside and that’s theirs. My bed is half dragon hoard of yarn and squishmallows. I’m not changing for anyone.

Anakin’s bed is 90% pillow and squishmallow and 10% blanket. Padme uses a thin cotton blanket and lets him burrito wrap himself and uses him like a body pillow while he’s captive in the blankies.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #clone wars #commander cody #alpha 17 #codywan #alphaobi #anakin skywalker #anidala #alpha got an obsession with soap operas and now he writes fics for them #no he’s not giving anyone his account info #Ahsoka sleeps in a puppy pile of padawans and vod’e tho she fits right in #aayla and Bly sleep on the same bed with completely different comforters and rarely cuddle if ever lmao #luminara is actually prego and using a maternity pillow for normal reasons #gree sleeps on his back snoring like a chainsaw but also an uncaring teenager on his chest the whole time lol Barriss sleeps like a toddler #which means a mixture of starfishing and octopus limbs #clone empire #post clone wars

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doodle-pops · 3 months

Text

House of Feanor | Having A Human S/O

Request: Can i request a feanorian group headcannon about having a human lover? — @misfortunateleprechaun

A/N: I couldn’t resist including a short reader in the mix because I know most of us are tiny beside these elves :)

Fëanor

Curious to learn all there is about you. Whether you’re naturally short, how you age, your life span, your features, culture, linguistics, everything, you name it. And when he does, it pushes for him to become even more intrigued with YOU.

Wants to follow you around as much as possible. Just picture a short you and a giant elf nearly 8ft trailing behind you asking millions of questions or silently observing you in your natural world.

Understands that humans are delicate and much more breakable than elves, so he treats you with the same care as he does for his jewels. You are fragile and deserve the utmost protection and care.

With that being said, you are not spared from being blessed with the great riches he is endowed with. Showers upon showers of gifts bestowed to make your mortal lifespan enjoyable and full of luxuries.

An enjoyment of his would be your vast size difference, as would all the elves when you lie, sit or walk beside him. Even when he needs to make jewellery, he marvels at the sizes and concludes that you are no larger than an elfling.

He will keep to himself knowing how you react when being compared to an elf child…or he might mention it because he enjoys your responses and phrases unheard of to elven ears.

Feanor takes great pride in having you as his S/O and accepts no criticism from anyone. He adores you with every fibre of his being and will worship the ground you walk on.

Maedhros

“Why are you so tiny, unlike other mortals I have come across?” That would be words spoken to himself upon meeting you because he’s already a freaking giant. It’s worse when you must stand on objects to meet this over-eight-foot-tall figure.

Holds out his hand and watches as you wrap your entire hand around two of his fingers. He has to bite his lip to hold back the laughter, because you attempt to guide him, and it looks like a child leading him off to Eru knows where.

Prefers when you sleep on his chest while (awake) he reads or relaxes on the balcony. Never allows you to close when you’re sharing the same bed and he’s sleeping. Do you want to go flying through a window with one of his kicks? You’re fragile babes, sleep on the floor.

Deep down, he believes that you deserve a lover who doesn’t have to place a restrain on everything they’re doing to prevent hurting you…physically. Play fights are a thing that happens rarely because you once knocked your own hand on the bedpost, and he blamed himself for forgetting your fragility.

With that being said, he gets worried about you when you accidentally injure yourself because you’re a mortal…soft, squishy and delicate. Please, don’t make him wrap you in the duvets like a burrito for your safety.

Since your lifespan is shorter than his, Maedhros’ main goal is to in ensure as much peace can be granted in your life. Takes you to the most scenic places around Beleriand or just nearby Himring and keeps you far away from his brothers, minus Maglor. Gives you a Shetland pony to ride for the kicks of it and watches as you fold.

He doesn’t seem to understand how you joke so easily about ageing and grimaces every time you crack a joke about your soon-to-be wrinkled appearance or increased fragility. You’re set to give him the heart attack instead of you.

Loves to compare your size to an elfling and jokes about having to purchase ready-made clothes in the children’s section for you.

Maglor

Humoured by your size and delicacy, and equally motherly as Maedhros. Henning over every little accident with a read-to-scold expression on his face and incoherent words spilling out his mouth about needing to cover you from head to toe.

Maglor adores your compliments when he sings for you or writes sonnets or poems. He understands that his species differ greatly from humans, hence his voice would sound ethereal to your ears, sparking grand praises. It tickles his ego and spurs him into never-ending songs because he lives for your praises.

Adores carrying you around because you’re as light as a feather and he could lift you with his pinkie finger. Sit on his shoulders, piggyback rides, cling to his legs or chest as he walks around his fort and ignores all the strange looks his servants are giving him.

He’s someone who respects humans and mortal life, so at no point would he ever allow you to feel insignificant compared to his elven nature. Hates to hear you ill-speak your mortality or even condemn the relationship to failure because of your differences.

Still hesitant when it comes to playfighting and unlike a certain brother, he wouldn’t scold himself for your injury. However, he would still engage and quickly dissolve everything to cuddles or a nap.

Sleep atop his chest and he’ll fawn because you look so tiny and feel weightless. One time you both fell asleep, however, Maglor forgot you were sleeping on his chest (because you’re so light), so when he rolled, you fell right off the bed.

Surprisingly cool with your human ageing jokes, especially the wrinkly potato ones. Sometimes he’ll cruise in with an affectionate joke to make you swoon about being his favourite potato.

Celegorm

It takes a long time to get it into his head that you’re delicate because, in his mind, he saw you performing hundreds of daredevil stunts, why stop the fun for safety purposes. Wherever Tyelko is, you are curled up under his arm like a sleeping bag being carried around on his adventure.

If he’s riding a horse large enough to carry an elf, then so are you—doesn’t matter if you’re four or five feet. If you fit, you sit. However, you prefer to ride Huan because he understands your comfort and safety more than Tyelko does.

Playfighting to the roughness degree and be prepared to end up in the healer’s room sporting bruises or a sprained joint, he’ll even lie down on you. He has an affinity for challenging you to your limits, solely because it’s thrilling to him. “Try lifting me off the bed and walking to the door.” (you collapsed under his beefy body)

As big and scary as he appears, start coughing or having a fever and watch as he crumples like a left. Clingy and never leaves your side the entire duration you’re resting or in the healer’s room.

Acts as though you’re going to die in the blink of an eye from a single sneeze and the next thing you know, he’s praying that you survive your common cold when the healers have informed him that you’re alright.

In addition, he’s the perfect teddy bear for a cold night with all those muscles he has going on. The issue is his ability to cuddle to the highest degree. You cannot escape his cuddle grip, even if you need to pee.

Tyelko has confidence that’s out of this world, so no one can attempt to shun or berate your relationship, not even mock him for choosing a human to be his S/O over an elf. Celegorm makes it clear that you’re his choice and he’s proud to have you.

Caranthir

Someone who admires you day by day and how easily you overcome obstacles without lamenting the way his race does. For a human, you are quite fiery and able to keep up with his pace of living, though he prefers that you relax while he lavishes you.

Vocal about his appreciation towards you in private as you lay in his chambers on the sofa or bed, cuddling. Like his siblings, he prefers that you lay atop him, refusing to even displace an ounce of weight for fear of crushing you.

Spoils you, spoils you, spoils you more than you could even imagine because he wants your life to be filled with comfort and luxuries before your end. Complaining about how much he spoils you is like kicking a puppy.

The only thing you cannot do is tear this elf away from his duties when he’s locked away in his studies deciding who to conduct his next trade with. He’s married to his work and then you.

This brings me to you easily clinging to his body because you wish for him to stay in bed longer. All he does is roll his eyes at your antics and continue to walk around the room while you disguise yourself as a backpack.

Sneeze and there’s a deafening silence that follows before a grumpy Caranthir paces out of the room to call for the healers. You are not permitted to go anywhere, basically bedroom arrest. You want water, food, more blankets; he’s there. Want to go for a walk, sure; he’ll walk you around the room.

As much as he admires your resilience as a human being to the harsh reality of life, many of your natural occurrences terrify him due to rumours of terrible endings for others. So, expect the protectiveness to go up a few notches.

Curufin

Everyone was surprised that he had a human lover when he strolled into a ball with you decked out in jewellery from head to toe. Poor you were trying to breathe under the weight of the gemstones breaking your neck.

Curufin isn’t any different in my dating him headcanons with the addition of his protectiveness increasing. He loves to use it as an excuse to tag along with you anywhere when he really wants to spend time together (what a tsundere).

Finds himself confused at all your human terminologies because how can “Break a leg” or “Knock ‘em dead” mean best of luck. “You humans are strange with your words, why can’t you just say what you mean.” – Curufin

Finds your excitement and expressive manner endearing given elves’ lack of facial expressions and enjoys bestowing all sorts of gifts upon you just to witness your reactions. He finds them better than the simple use of words when accepting his creations.

Less inclined to school you like his father, but still peppers you with indirect questions to learn more about humans and their odd differences from elves. If you’re female, then be prepared to blow his mind with talks of your menstruation. He considers you a brave warrior for going through that every month.

Curufin doesn’t like talks of how your lifespan is short and you’re bound to die soon, and you tend to use this to your advantage when you want your way. “But what if tomorrow doesn’t come, and I don’t get to eat chocolate cake? You should let me eat it now, so you don’t regret not letting me.”

(Tries) Keeps you away from Tyelko because he’s a terrible influencer and causes the majority of your injuries which sends Curufin into cardiac arrest. If Curufin has never shown much emotion in his life, it was the moment he learnt that you were in the healing rooms.

Amrod

Excited because he has someone to love him, but heartbroken about your shortened lifespan, which means he’s going to cram all his years of adventure into your lifespan so it can be shared with you.

Every morning, he walks you up with a brilliant smile as warm as the sun before dragging you out of bed to go hiking or host a breakfast picnic while the sun rises (sorry if you hate waking up early).

You are not spared from his pranks or the confusion between him and his twin when Amras decides to trick you. Aware that you are human and more breakable than elves, but he’s still going to engage in roughhousing or lying half his body atop yours so you cannot go anywhere.

As I had mentioned before, he’s touch–starved being the youngest bunch in the family with less attention being directed. So when you entered the picture, as a human, it was natural for you to be overly affectionate which stunned him. Never before had Amrod believed that he was capable of receiving so much love.

He doesn’t care about the fact that elves aren’t physically affectionate, he accepts every hug, kiss and touch you gift him. He considers them your greatest gift, second to finding you.

Already protective of his younger brother, so it’s natural when you enter the picture. Prefers being your bodyguard so he can spend every second with you, never allowing for there to be a moment when you aren’t together.

I have mentioned that he’s into woodcarving, so you can expect figurines of you and him (more you) to appear before your door in beautifully wrapped boxes. You have a collection by now and can consider it a hobby thanks to Amrod.

Amras

Prefers to spend all his time with you in tranquillity and away from his nosy and noisy family, including his twin who doesn’t understand the concept of personal space and attempts to chaperone each date.

The realisation of you being human doesn’t sink in for a long while because he’s pleased that he has someone whom he can love. Amras will be spending his dates surrounded by nature.

Waterfalls, hiking trails, rivers, ponds lakes or fields of flowers, you have seen it all in your human lifespan. Places you didn’t believe existed or could be viewed by the naked eye would be revealed to you.

Amras is more open to receiving affection from you and enjoys the lavish amounts you shower him in. He is stunned by the volume that humans are capable of delivering and how dependent they are on physical touch.

Like his brothers, Amras will shower you with tons of gifts, especially handcrafted ones. He is skilled in crocheting and competes with his brother for who can make the best look-alikes of their family. In between, you can expect to receive stuffed animals or a miniature of yourself.

Reaches out to his elder brother, Maedhros and Maglor for advice on how to date a human since they’re more aware of mortal mannerisms than him. It’s a cute sight to witness as Amras practices learning your mannerisms and culture so he can help you feel at home.

His major concern is ensuring that your time spent with him was the best years you’ve ever had in your entire life, and he was able to fulfil many of your wishes in the short space of time granted to you.

Celebrimbor

Tyelpё would like to know what he has done to inherit a significant other in the first place. Forget that you’re human, he wants to know how you can choose a person like him after the history of bloodshed his family has left.

Like any normal relationship, he’s doing his best to control his temper and be as patient as possible. He would hate to make you go running for the hills with a terrible slip-up.

Eyes of a hawk at your every move, wanting to learn as much as possible with the stark differences between you in particular and him. He’s already aware of how indifferent elves and humans are, it’s just to learn your netiquettes and mannerisms.

Like his father, you will be gifted tons of jewellery—it’s his love language—with your neck breaking under the weight of the gems. Tyelpё adores seeing you decked out and looking like a disco ball; you’re his mannequin for his pieces.

As one who spent years in the forge, he’s far from small and will crush you under his weight. Thus, he’s cautious when cuddling or any form of play fighting. The last thing he needs to hear is that he injured you from his bulky muscles.

Please hold his hands and let him fawn over the size difference. You’re only able to hold two of his fingers when tugging him about the place when you’re eager to show him something.

Did someone say standing on chairs to meet his height? Yes, that is exactly what you would have to do because he’s a giant eight-foot elf. Or even parading around in his long robes pretending to be him? Yes.

Protective to a degree, but not as overprotective as his uncles since it’s the second age and let’s assume that our buddy hasn’t shown up yet to ruin the peace. Tyelpё will gladly allow you to roam freely without worrying about your safety tremendously and would even request that you return with treats.

Masterlist

Taglist: @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @ladyenchanted @mcwentfandomtraveling @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @a-tong @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora

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isaacswhy · 1 year

Text

fingers

isaacwhy x fem!reader (nsfw) summary: isaac catches y/n looking at his fingers over and over again. he uses them. requested?: yes, by 🦦 anon MINORS DNI

There you sat, at the kitchen counter. In one of those too-comfortable cushioned stools as your boyfriend cooked up a meal for you. You watched as his hands gripped every tool he used and his perfect finesse with every movement. He made cooking look so effortless and like a beautiful art. He was beautiful.

You'd admire his strong figure and his body, but your eyes would trail down the muscles of his arm and onto the veins that led to his hands, and his large fingers. God, those fingers. It's not like you'd never gotten to experience them before, you had, many times over, but they never ceased to amaze you. Perfectly shaped and just the right size, where you almost felt too full. The way they-

"Y/N?"

You jolted and looked up at Isaac, who was now looking at you with two plates in hand. Your frantic, turned-on brain panicked to compose yourself, so you sat up with a small smile on your face.

"Oh, thank you. What's for dinner?" You asked.

Isaac looked perplexed. "Weren't you watching me as I cooked? It's just some breakfast burritos. I was craving them, you know how it is."

"If I were honest.. I was spacing out, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, I get it. I hope you enjoy it."

"You know I will, Isaac. Your cooking is.. what's the word, delectable."

"Okay, fancy pants."

You chuckled to yourself as you took a bite, the savory combo of eggs and meat and cheese taking you almost by surprise in the way they flowed together beautifully. The meal was well-seasoned and you could've sworn you fell in love with Isaac all over again in the moment. After taking a few bites, you found yourself spacing out again, your eyes trailing over to the man across the counter eating his own meal. Or at least to his hands. And those fucking fingers.

Maybe it was obsession, but you couldn't help yourself. They were so perfect for you. His hands in general were a work of art, sculpted by the gods like he was meant to be a statue one day. The large size of them and the veins that decorated them sporadically. Even as you went up his arm, his muscle definition and the all around strength you took in as you stared at him.

"Hello? My eyes are up here."

You were startled once more, but you did your best to flirt. "Don't mind me, just enjoying the view."

"What were you looking at that caught your attention?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out, Isaac."

"The hell does that mean?"

You took another bite of your burrito as Isaac looked at you with a sense of curiosity in his eyes. You knew the look well after seeing it many times over. A twinge of arousal mixed with the need to chase down what you were leading him towards. He was mild-mannered most of the times, but you knew he couldn't help himself when you gave him subtle hints like this. He became a whole new man altogether. You didn't envy the internet, given that they were never able to see the expressions he makes or all of the looks in his eyes that could tell you far more than words. Then again, you liked having it all for yourself.

It was an obvious move, but you flickered your eyes from his to his fingers, back to his eyes, and then you returned to your burrito. If he was still questioning your intentions, that was on him. You wanted to lay some hints down, but you never wanted to give him exactly what he wanted: the answer.

"I think I get it."

A grin spread across your face. "Do you now?"

Isaac stood wordlessly from his stool and walked over to you. "The question is, do I have the patience to move back to our room?"

A mischievous look in his eye told you that he was on the right path. "It doesn't matter either way if you're fast."

Isaac returned your sly smile. "I guess you're right."

It didn't take more than a second for Isaac's hands to find themselves on the waistband of the sweatpants you had stolen from him, pulling them down. You wrestled your hips as you noticed he had hooked his fingers under your underwear as well, so when he got them out from under you successfully, you were exposed to him. He reached two fingers down and slowly rubbed them in circles on your clit, which brought out an unexpected moan from you. His other hand slapped over your mouth as his fingers teased you. The wetness and heat between your legs was growing unbearable.

Your boyfriend finally obliged, dragging his two fingers downward, getting them wet with your slick, and pushing both inside simultaneously. You could've screamed in the moment, his large fingers making you almost feeling like you were being filled to the brim. There was pain, but it quickly subsided as he pushed his fingers into you rigorously and caressed your g-spot.

You didn't have the stamina he had, so you found yourself gripping the counter and your seat hand with your fingers as a climactic feeling rose in your gut. The way Isaac's fingers worked inside of you with such finesse always brought you to orgasm faster than you could've ever done yourself, and faster than anybody had ever done before. Isaac truly was the perfect guy for you.

"Isaac.." Your muffled voice was blocked out mostly by Isaac's hand, but he heard you fine.

"I know, baby."

Whines and whimpers were all you could manage as his fingers fucked you relentlessly, your breath hitching as you spilled over the edge and climax rocked your body. If Isaac's hand weren't there, the neighbors would've gotten a show. Isaac's fingers slowed their pace and eventually pulled out, and you watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean. God, you loved that guy.

"You're so gross," You said, even if you didn't mean it.

"I know you love it."

You pulled your underwear and borrowed sweatpants back up over your waist and the two of you returned to your daily routine, and the rest of the housemates didn't seem to know a thing as they woke up. A job well done.

#tgc #tgc x reader #the group #the group x reader #the group chat #the group chat podcast #isaacwhy #isaacwhy x reader #yumi #larrycroft #softwilly #bigt

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eunnieboo · 7 months

Text

IYHM ask replies!!

also, a current snapshot of my mind:

💛 burrito-puppy asked:

Love to see the progress and art you made along the years! Can’t wait for the release 💕💕💕

thank you so much! 💞💞💞 i can't believe it's less than a week away... i can count the number of days left on one hand! AHHHH

💛 Anonymous asked:

Listen. The way that I too am freaking out! Gah. So excited. Can't wait.

THANK YOU!! every day i wake up and i lose my mind LMAO... the only time i'm calm is when i'm distracted, so i can forget it's actually happening haha!

💛 mickiee-art asked:

Where have you been my entire life?? I love your work so much! So excited for your graphic novel release! 💕🫶🏼

thank you so much omg!! i'm so glad! 🥺💖

💛 tabsters asked:

YOO DUDE ONE OF THE PROTAGONISTS OF YOUR SAPPHIC GRAPHIC NOVEL IS VIETNAMESE??? I'M VIETNAMESE AND BISEXUAL AND YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY THIS MAKES ME HSAKSHKAHSKAHSKAHSAKJ

AHHHHH i'm so thrilled to hear that!!! i live for these messages HFDSKDJHSK HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY

💛 Anonymous asked:

I just found your art today and after scrolling through your stuff I went and pre-ordered your book. I'm so excited!!

oh you are too kind!! ;_; thank you so much <3

💛 nimona-antifa asked:

WAITTT THE BLACK HAIRED CHARACTER IN IF YOU'LL HAVE ME IS A BUTCH LESBIAN? I THOUGHT IT WAS A DUDE OMG THEY'RE BOTH SO PRETTYYYYY FBFBDGD I'M GAY 💗💗💗 I seriously love your art its always so wholesome

HAHA OMG I LOVE THIS 😂 thank you!!! BUTCH LESBIANS FOREVER AND ALWAYS 💕💕

💛 albedosleftb0otych33k asked:

I don't know how but I only just found out about your graphic novel and OML! I WILL BUY IT THE SECOND IT COMES OUT! Anyways, I love your art and just wanted to tell you ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

omg thank you so much!! you are the sweetest! ( *´ω`*)♡

💛 jeweljupiter asked:

I just wanted to say seeing your art of Momo and PG makes me feel seen and heard I love the poc representation I’m a plus size dark skin nerdy black girl and seeing more women who look like me finding love gives me hope and makes me happy

when i tell you this means everything to me... it means everything to me. thank you forever T_T ❤️

i've been so focused on IYHM for the past couple months... now that the pub date is so close, i'm full of giddy anticipation and terrible dread. so thank you everyone for the love and well wishes! it's really getting me through it.

also, i wasn't sure how to announce this so i wanted to mention it while i'm here: Waterstones now has a special sprayed edge edition of IYHM! i got my copy a little while back and it's really gorgeous. if you like paperbacks i think the color is a lovely touch!

and as another reminder, i'll be having an in-person launch event next tuesday with Brick & Mortar Books in Redmond, WA! truthfully i'm torn between my desire to interact with people and my embarrassment at being seen in public, so please feel free to spare yourselves lmao 😭 i wasn't sure i'd do an event at all but i decided to try at least once before deciding if it's for me. so we'll see how it goes!

whew. the 17th is coming up so fast but i still have so many little tasks to do. the last time i talked about my busy schedule on here, someone sent me a message that said "you deserve a spa day," and i think about it all the time. maybe someday, anon. maybe someday...

#iyhm #anon #replies #jeweljupiter #albedosleftb0otych33k #nimona-antifa #tabsters #mickiee-art #burrito-puppy

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meowzfordayz · 10 months

Text

how they care for you — sanemi, giyuu

Author’s Note: to whoever needs to be reminded… YOU CAN DO THIS! 😤🤗

how they care for you — sanemi, giyuu

Shinazugawa Sanemi x Reader, Tomioka Giyuu x Reader

Word Count: ~400

CW: depression

Emergency Request Fulfilled: hi!! i feel kinda awkward making an emergency request bc I've never done this before but I've been struggling a lot lately and your writing is so comfy. 😭 could you write about how giyuu & sanemi would react or comfort a disabled s/o who has bad bouts of depression bc she can't do as much as she wants to? if this isn't something you're not comfy writing please don't feel like you have to!!

(p.s I lov your work and it always makes me happy when your writing shows up on my dash 🥺)

~faqs~

Does his best to bring places to you

Wish you could go to the museum and stare at pretty paintings? 🖼 He’ll say, “Gimme an hour,” and turn the living room into your own museum (nvm that his art isn’t ~the greatest 🥴)

Craving a stroll in the local park? He’ll say, “Gimme an hour,” and return w/ a duck for your entertainment (don’t scold him too hard, he just wanted to see you smile 😅) 🦆

Feeling wistful bc you can’t go out to eat? 🍜 He’ll become your host, waiter, and chef (mind you, if you don’t tip him 🤑, then he will pretend to pick a fight w/ you)

Cooks or orders you whatever food you want to eat

If he wants a burrito and you want pizza, then he wants pizza too 🍕

If he wants pad Thai and you want sushi, then he wants sushi too 🍣

Etc 😂

That being said, he does gently encourage you to eat fruits and veggies along w/ whatever else you’re craving, bc he knows eating well helps you feel well too 🍓🥕

11/10 makes the cutest charcuterie boards for you complete w/ fancy cheeses, meats, freshly cut fruits, veggies, dips, and jams 😋

Randomly springs Spa Day™️ on you

Muscles sore? Feeling exhausted? Unsure where to start? Have no fear! Giyuu has an entire itinerary for you

Complete w/ a full body massage, flower bath, complementary fruit and cheese platters, and naptime, you’re sure to feel a lil better 🛁 (if not physically, then at least in spirit)

Plucking flower petals off you and then patting you dry is his fave part 🥺🥰

Talks about The Future™️ w/ you, and tries to make Things™️ happen

That trip you wish you could go on, but feels impossible?

He’ll make some adjustments, and surprise you w/ a weekend away ☀️

Those clothes you wish you could buy, but haven’t had the time or energy to?

He’ll purchase everything in multiple sizes, so all you have to worry about is trying it all on — he’ll take care of any necessary returns 👕

That movie you wish you could watch, but can’t fathom being stuck in a theater for?

He’ll rent it asap, and ensure he has a free evening to enjoy it w/ you 🎬

#headcanons #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader

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starryeyedadmirer · 9 months

Note

what celeb do you think is most likely to be into feeding/stuffing

So, I’m going to have to go with Evan Peters on this one. I mean… just look at these photos and tell me that this guy doesn’t love to stuff his face with the messiest/sauciest foods you can imagine…

Evan isn’t into all that fancy gourmet crap, when it comes to satisfying his hunger. That presentational kind of food doesn’t do anything for him, especially when it comes in those ridiculously small serving sizes, and costs him an arm and a leg. Why pay for pretty food when you can eat cheap and get full? He prefers to indulge in the simpler things… like pizzas, burritos, pastas, chips, sweets and baked goods… anything that he can pick up from a restaurant/store for cheap, or make quick at home. Foods like that actually serve their purpose… come at a low cost, taste amazing, and fill you up fast.

I feel like Evan would be into stuffing for the convenience of it, over anything else. Having someone else shovel food into his mouth, and pack his belly full whenever he wants… submitting to the mercy of his demanding appetite, so that he doesn’t have to answer to it himself… that would be heaven for him. He could get full past his limits, without ever having to lift a finger… and have someone there to rub and kiss his bloated belly, and make him feel better when he’s finished gorging himself. At that point, he’d be like putty in your hands… willing to let you do anything you want to him, as long as you keep him stuffed nice and round. You want to kiss all over his belly like he’s pregnant with a food-baby? Go for it. Feeling like plunging your tongue into his belly button, and exploring the deep hole? The pleasure is all yours. Your hands getting restless? Would you like to jerk him off while he’s all big and round, and see what comes out of him? Go right on ahead. Want to flip him over, and burry your face between his ass cheeks? Knock yourself out. No matter how it goes, it’s always a win-win for Evan. He get fed whenever he wants, like the lazy pig that he is… and, if you’re feeling frisky when you’re done, he gets to have a happy ending too… in some form or another. All the while, he never has to move a single muscle… aside from those in his jaws.

#starry eyes #thanks for the ask!#evan peters

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ronearoundblindly · 4 months

Note

Autumn in a blanket burrito on the sofa late night waiting for steve to come back from a mission he sees autumn wrapped like a burrito slight shuffling missing him 🥹

Yeah, so I'm having some real ups and downs lately. Scrolled through a bunch of old asks to spark some joy and creativity, and this one caught my eye. No one's asked about Autumn in almost a year actually. Makes sense, of course, I'd choose a tale from a series buried in the dark of tumblr...but alas, I need this. I need coziness like life didn't fall apart, like life wasn't a huge lie, like any of it mattered. Steve helping a fellow traumatized does that for me 💜. RIGHT--comfort! Here we go. WC 1.8k

Steve Rogers x super soldier!reader

Full-Sized Throw, an Autumn Is Healing short story

Some days, well, some days are bad.

They’re full of memories. They’re full of pain. Most…most are real memories of real pain. Some are unclear.

The compound is quiet while the Team is away. Everyone busies themselves, too flustered to babysit you. It rained all day. You couldn’t go outside, so there’s nothing to do but think.

Was that you or the Soldier? Did the Soldier feel that or did she inflict it? Is this feeling the worst or are more buried?

Real or not, you still feel it.

The pain lingers. It crawls across your skin, and it melts down your spine. It drips like a leaky tap in your brain. Never ending. It just moves. It just hides. But it never leaves.

Loud music in your headphones drowns out the drip-drip, laying down cuts off that sickening flow along your back, and blankets—usually four of them, wound over every inch of your body—stop the vicious and incessant flutter of fear.

Hydra won’t stop. Agents will come for you.

But…what if…

What if Hydra isn’t coming? What if they wrote you off as a lost cause? What if you mean nothing to them now? Is that…worse than being hunted?

The only support—the only family, in a sick way—that you’ve known for decades—however many hours, days, or years of them you were awake—is gone. All gone. Maybe they don’t even want you anymore.

Some memories aren’t as bad. Not every moment was hell.

Not all of the guards scowled at you, not all of them leered, and in the absence of overt hatred, you told yourself they as good as smiled. If the look didn’t instill more fear in you, it was a smile. Had to be. You hardly remembered what those looked like anyway. The absence of bad is good, right?

To you, absence is as-good-as.

You pull your top blanket tighter, wriggling your feet in the direction of your swirled, lowest layer.

Absence was as good as kindness, you think. Absence was as good as freedom.

Hydra is absent. You are free. That’s a kindness. It’s their only kindness—to go away, to be gone.

Their absence makes you feel as good as happy. It’s still raining. You’re still in a room. You still need a ‘minder’ to go anywhere, but that’s not as bad as before because sometimes your ‘minder’ is Steve.

Steve is kind. He’s full of kindness and real comfort. You remember those things. He makes memories of them. He helps on bad days, even in his absence. That’s clear.

Steve’s been gone on a mission for however many hours, days, or years though, so Blankets 2 and 3 anchor your torso and hips to the couch for the long haul, just in case.

Rumor has it the Team comes home today, but that’s what the rumor was yesterday, too. Not that anyone really tells you anything since you aren’t on their team and you aren’t their fighter. You aren’t one of them because only Steve looks at you like you’re bathed in sunshine, always. The rest see shadow and darkness, an absence of light, an absence of trust.

Absence still feels kinder than the alternative: the leering, the scowls, the…memories.

The blankets hold you firm while it’s dark outside the window behind the back cushions. The foot throw is a standard, almost scratchy thing that came with your cell (for safety), the hip throw was an upgrade once you moved to this room, this bed’s comforter wraps your torso, and covering your head, shoulders, and arms is a gift from Steve.

He said it was a trade for all the lovely sachets of lavender you put together for him, for all the herbs you grew to spice foods you’re cooking for the first time, for “all the things we don’t know about.”

It’s the fluffiest and softest of the blankets, and it smells like Steve. You snuggle your whole face into—

The elevator dings out in the hall.

Maybe they’re home. Maybe he’s back.

You hear talking, not whispers but not loud enough to understand. Footsteps come all the way up to your closed door…and then jog away.

Was that Steve? Why’d he go? He always visits.

Fabric thickened legs swing off the couch. You don’t even register the release of pressure from your back or the loss of complete encapsulation as the foot throw unfurls onto the floor. It’s a mad shuffle to the door, a peek at the clock.

2:29 AM

Did he think he’d wake you? Doesn’t he know you don’t sleep well when he’s not at the compound? Wouldn’t he—

Knock knock.

His footsteps were muted by your racing thoughts.

“Rosie?” he whispers. “Rosie, you up?”

You weakly respond, a single syllable that’s enough to have Steve opening the door without waiting.

“Hey, I brought you this—“ he looks up your body, which is not at all visible save for your eyes and forehead “—candy…”

Big blue eyes soften, illuminated by a solitary, warm lamp by the door and harsh slices blazing through the hall.

“…to try,” he finishes. “What are you doing? Are you cold? Rose, you gotta tell someone if it’s uncomfortable.” Steve tosses the candy onto the lamp’s table and crosses straight to you, his arms wrapping you a little tighter. “You don’t have to—“

“Always,” you mumble.

He only calls you ‘Rose’ when he’s disappointed, but you never want to disappoint Steve.

After a gentle rub up and down your back, he pulls away, but only enough to see your face, turning you a little until the light hits, his gaze like the sun. The sun does shine on you whenever he’s there.

“What was that?”

“It’s always uncomfortable,” you elaborate, poking your chin over the fleecy muzzle. “I wouldn’t know what to ask for. I—I don’t know what will fix it.”

He smiles; Steve simply smiles at you sweetly. It looks easy and real, not as if he fights it, not as if it’s painful.

“Well,” he starts carefully, “if it can be fixed, we’ll figure it out. But you don’t have to be in here alone and uncomfortable.”

“I was waiting. I missed you.” Your words are quiet enough to test even super soldier hearing. “I…I like the…”

You glance down as a gesture to your burrito form and shrug.

“Yeah? So this helps? Being hugged in blankets?” Steve immediately pulls you back into his chest, musk-saturated t-shirt covering everything your throws don’t, and it’s like a balm to your wounded psyche.

Your mind calms, and your body releases.

You know he’s real. You know he’s present.

Steve makes the absence of pain shock your insides like a drug.

He stays there, pressing against you lightly, hands splayed over your head and hip, and he just breathes for a long time. In and out.

This could go on for however many hours, days, or years he’s willing to stay, and you’d relish every instant.

Since you know he can understand the garbled words, you say into his chest, “how was the mission?”

A big in, a quick out, Steve sighs, and when you look up, there is no smile. The absence means something different, but with this, you can help.

“I know what you need.”

You toss the fluffy throw around him and squeeze the soft, stretchy fabric tight.

Steve’s hands land on yours, keeping you connected skin-to-skin. His shoulders sag a little.

“But I liked that, too. I liked—“ He chuckles before a different kind of shadow falls over his face. His eyes flatten and shy away from you. “I want the hug. I need it, Rosie.”

He almost seems ashamed, and that just won’t do. Not at all. You can’t have your sunshine dim for lack of—you jump right into his arms and cling.

One tiny snort of amusement is all Steve lets out. He buries his head in the soft fabric between you, sighing deeper the harder you hold him, lacing his arms around your waist, unyielding. He won’t let go. He walks you both slowly over to the couch and sits.

“That bad, huh?” you prompt. “You need some lavender?”

His fingers dig in. He doesn’t say anything. He stays quiet while you maneuver your loosened covers to tuck him further.

Maybe he’d like to talk but not talk?

“Lot of rain today,” you whisper, settling against the shared body heat of two enhanced humans. “I bet the lawn flooded.”

There’s something lovely about your body equaling his. Sure, the average person feels warm and alive, but to you—and you hope to Steve—this is a novelty. You two account for a not-insignificant portion of the supers on Earth who run this warm. It feels like matching puzzle pieces to unlock a prize. You feel comforted by being comforting.

Some days are just like that

Steve finally lifts his weary head. “Made the whole ground smell like a creekside. Wet dirt—“ he spins you both to lay flat “—fresh grass—“ he shimmies to make you relax your weight onto him, your full weight “—open air.”

A long, long out. When you peek above your head, his eyes are closed. Steve looks peaceful as he mutters.

“Took my boots off in my room, they were so muddy. I’ll take you out to check the garden,” he trails off, “tomorrow…”

His hold on you is still tight but not restrictive, so you shift, your arms crossed beneath your chin, watching him as the absence of worry spreads through the room.

You tap his sternum playfully. “You don’t have to be out there alone and uncomfortable either. I’m right here.”

Steve smirks lazily, barely moving. “I know, Rosie.”

He probably doesn’t know; you doubt he can fathom what you would give to make him never feel how you did today. He deserves all the comfort, all the kindness, and all the happiness. You don’t ever want to dim his sunlight with your darkness, but that’s a hard thing to predict.

“We’ll get you some blankets of your own,” you offer softly and begin to lean back down.

“Uh huh,” Steve hums, rolling to the side, pinning you between the couch cushions and his body. “Just have to stay close…to fit two…for now.” He nuzzles in, curling and contouring till it’s perfect. You’re cocooned again by four blankets.

That's clear. That's real. This will be a good memory.

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling into his chest. “Of course. We can do that.”

The steady, slowing, in and out of his breathing lulls you to sleep, a nice deep sleep, for the first time since however long ago he left.

Some days, well, some days are bad, but they don’t have to end that way.

Stick me in a blanket burrito I'm done 💚 💜 Thank you, anon! Sorry you waited or didn't wait a year for this.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

#ro answers #autumn is healing #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fluff #super soldier!reader #hurt/comfort

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hollowtones · 7 months

Note

Glad you enjoyed your trip to the animal zone : ) do u have any other hamburger establishments you plan to visit this trip?

Not really. My partner's vegetarian & most hamburger stores don't offer much in the way of decent options. (She had the grilled cheese from IN AND OUT HAMBURSTER and said it was "fine", & also she had a milkshake and we split our thing of fries.) They don't mind if I eat things that they can't / don't want to eat, but I don't have much desire to go to most places if she can't share a meal with me or get one for herself, y'know?

That aside, I don't really know of any specific hamburger shops here that I couldn't find back home. In-N-Out is the only one that comes to mind. We've got stuff like Five Guys in Quebec. Mostly I've been wanting to go out to Mexican restaurants & street food vendors because I've had a hard time getting decent Mexican food back home on the east coast. (There's some options in QC, but they're either kinda far from where I live by bus/train or they're kinda bougie and overpriced.) I got a big fuck-off burrito full of eggs and potato and chorizo and other stuff for breakfast yesterday. Cost me like 12 bucks. Half of it was nearly the size of both my fists together. Two meals worth of food. I'm literally going back there this week to see how their tamales are. I've been craving decent tamales for well-on ten years now. LOL

My partner does want to go to Denny's. When I word it like that, it sounds like I don't want to go. I also want to go to Denny's. Going to Denny's feels like the sort of thing you have to just let happen organically, though, rather than making plans to go there. At least it feels like that for us. So we haven't gone. Maybe we won't go for several years. But we probably will eventually.

I want to go to Arby's also. This isn't really strictly a SoCal thing. I just want to go to an Arby's. I've never been to one. Every single time I'm visiting a friend in the US & I tell them I want to go to Arby's they outright refuse to go. My life is so difficult...

#I've been informed of several Notable Food Places in & around LA that are at my price range & I've been to a few so far.

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stonegolem · 5 months

Text

tonight i was Food Crimed by my favorite local taco place. in a good way, but STILL. the crime is this. i wanted a burrito and a lil extra. maybe like one additional taco or some chips and salsa

but i saw that for just six dollars more, a mere 50% increase in price, i could have the Monster Burrito. i have had Monster Burritos before from other restaurants in the past. i was expecting this to be an Overeating Indulgence. i was anticipating a big ol' burrito made with two burrito shells layered on top of each other, so i could have a big ol foot long burrito and take a big burrito nap afterward.

what they did to me instead was send me a five pound burrito the size of a grocery store bread loaf.

y'all, this is not a reasonable amount of food for eighteen dollars. this is barely even a burrito - it's definitely food wrapped in a tortilla, but one does anticipate being able to BITE a burrito. this is unbiteable. in order to consume this like a human i have cut off the end quarter with a knife and poured it into a bowl.

please observe that that is three quarters of the Monster Burrito and one entirely goddamn full bowl of burrito carcass. the upside is that it's delicious. the chicken is stewed and so tender, the fillings are fresh, the salsa is spicy, the cheese to rice ratio is ideal. the downside is that i hate leftovers. i did not enter into this covenant willingly. i asked for a gently more burrito so i could gently more enjoy my dinner. what i received instead was a Family Curse. I have THREE MORE BURRITO BOWLS to go.

#burrito #too much food #help me #remind yourself that overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer #it's so good though yall i'm not joking #does anyone want a burrito bowl #tw food #food

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nompunhere · 4 months

Note

rain day duo make their grand return (:

cw: safe vore, foodplay, mentions of digestion(of said food), eager prey, exasperated pred

We start preparing a little spread before we go, a little ceramic plate mockery of a charcuterie board, a thermos full of juice, and some little pigs in a blanket.

(you had to look up what that meant when i suggested it, and scowled playfully when you realized it was just mini hot dogs in little buns)

I grab a fairly hefty backpack to stuff the blanket and food into, and make sure to strap your little chair to the top of my shoulder. You pull the harness on, and we're off.

The car ride is a little far, and I still hate navigating, so you rattle off instructions from your spot beside my ear. We both lament the loss of sunlight when we get stuck in traffic, and you urge me to speed on the straightaways. "Like a giant and tiny duo need more reason for suspicion." I half heartedly scold, bumping my speed anyway.

When we finally get there, I take a moment to let you stretch your legs on the dash before we continue. You pace around and, when you notice me smiling at you, do the worst moonwalk i've ever seen. "You've defiled this vehicle with your atrocious dancing!" I mock shout. You proceed to attempt the worm, but only look like you're convulsing.

With you back on my shoulder, I start the hike to the summit. You try to identify every sort of rock we see on the way, while i keep an idle eye out for predatory birds. The walk is peaceful, and blissfully quiet. I'm starting to get a little hungry though, and look forward to the cheeses we brought.

When we get to the top, we both take a second to stare. You lean forwards in your seat. "They lied." you murmured, "This is fucking glorious." I chuckle dazedly, steadying the bounce of my shoulder with my hand, and head forward to find a good spot in front of this crazy view.

Letting you off my shoulder once i find a nice flat bit of grass, I start setting up. Of course, as i flap down the blanket, you dart under it. I laugh in tandem with you, and gently search around the blanket find your form underneath. I mercilessly tickle you once I catch you, and your side still heave as I pull you out.

With lunch served, we chow down on our feast. The blanket puppies were a hit with you, though they were the same size as your whole body. I eat some more pepperoni.

I'd been zoned out, staring off into the distance for a while, when I heard a light cough. I look down and. You've wrapped the dough from the blanket puppy around yourself. I exasperatedly cover my eyes when you wiggle your eyebrows. "Tiny in a blanket?" I groan. "Tiny in a blanket." You smirk back. I make a face. "But I just ate!" The deadpan makes me reconsider. "Sure I digest kinda fast and it was easy foods, but still!"

My argument was rapidly losing steam, and we both knew it. You shrug as best you can in your bun burrito, "Even if there was some stuff, I don't really mind." I sigh.

"You're not valid for missing the sunset." I tell you glumly. You just wiggle in excitement. I scoop you up, letting the round bun roll off my fingers and into my palm. I give you a lick, and discover that your habit of laying on top of the food while you eat has given you a salty flavor. I lick you again, and enjoy your flavor mixing with the buttered bread. It's not long til you're all the way in my jaws, the soft bun melts into paste as I carefully toss you around, and I pin you to the top of my mouth for a second as I swallow it.

We keep playing like that for a bit, prodding and tickling and doing our best approximation of wrestling before you finally tire out. I let you rest for a moment, then hum inquiringly. A little wriggle towards the back of my mouth. I roll my eyes and tilt my head back a bit to help you out. You slide your arms into my throat, your head tickling my uvula. I swallow some air down with you to make it a bit less tight, and down you go.

I feel you in my chest, an obvious presence up against my organs, though you take care not to move much. You slow down for a moment, and then with another slight burst of discomfort, you land in my stomach. I immediately press a hand to you and flop back on my stomach. As always, you're warm, like a little heat pack under my skin. You push back at me, shoving into my flesh to make yourself felt. I shake my midriff a little, chuckling at your cry of annoyance, when suddenly, I realize something.

"Crap! I just ate my navigator!"

oh, this is adorable <3 thank you again, anon! love to see what silliness these two get up to

#ask #extreme cuddling #soft vore #safe vore #g/t vore #fluffy vore #not my writing

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tagsecretsanta · 4 months

Text

From @womble1`

From @womble1 to @alexthefly

1. Colours in nature. 2. Food as an act of love.

Snow cover

They were high up on a mountain, overlooking a little gem of a ski resort that didn’t get as flooded with tourists because most people stopped at the more easily accessible towns you had to pass to get there. Or would have to pass if you took the more conventional route by road, rather than getting dropped off by something a little more specialist and with some attention grabbing paintwork. The cabin the boys had rented was private and well appointed, and used most of the year by the owners extended family. Generations of passed down sledges and ski paraphernalia huddled for space on the back porch, piles of well worn board games cluttered the mismatched bookcases. It didn’t scream VIP clientele. It was part of its appeal, sure they had to share rooms, but if they were off on the mountains most of the time, what did that matter? And it was worth it to avoid the paparazzi and get some quieter slopes.

The snow had really settled in for the night, softening the glow from what would have been a bloated full moon. After a full day of skiing they had all agreed on an early night, the heavy falling flakes blanketing the cabin like it too was ready for bed. The warm glow from the cabin windows was the only colour picked out in the whitewashed landscape. But with nightfall so too fell the temperature. The building had frittered away any remaining fragments of warmth from the cosy fire the night before, leaving the air bracing to say the least.

Alan leaned over the edge of his bunk, he and Gordon were sharing a family room with John, but the space noodle had claimed the king size bed for himself, leaving Gordon and Alan to battle for top bunk. Alan had won, mostly by physically climbing over Gordon after decking him with a pillow, and launching himself onto the higher bed. One look at Alan's determined white knuckle grip on the bed rail and Gordon has admitted defeat, trying to style it out that he hadn't really wanted it anyway.

Gordon looked content enough with his choice now though, wrapped up like a burrito in the quilt. Try as he might, Alan couldn't pry the spare blanket out from Gordon's grasp. The squid only snuggled deeper in his sleep, completely unaware of his poor freezing brother's plight.

Alan looked around the room, sparse details picked out by slithers of moonlight coming from miniscule gaps in the curtains. No promising solutions presented themselves. Alan had already stolen John's hoodie from where it had been draped across the foot of the big bed. Alan was so cold he was starting to believe he could see his own breath as draconic clouds before him. Brrrrr.

Realising there was nothing else for it, Alan shimmied down the ladder and creeped out of the room. He tiptoed down the stairs, partly to avoid making them creak and disturb Scott, who had claimed the double room sat in the eaves of the building. Well, at least until kayo arrived, she was due to join them tomorrow, and then Scott would be unceremoniously ousted to make room. Scott would have the choice of sharing with the starfishing spaceman ( they had joked that the velcro sleeping bags often used in space should be deployed on earth), or risking his eardrums with the snoring bear. Virgil had been allocated the ground floor bedroom because it was the furthest from anyone else. Virgil hadn't minded, he got a room to himself and could spread out on the pushed together twin beds.

Making it to the bottom of the stairs, Alan shuffled his way across the living area, his way illuminated by the sparse light from blinking electrical items around the room. He stumbled into the bedroom door, less worried about disturbing this brother's slumber.

Virgil was doing a passable impression of a log, or even a felled tree, taking up most of the bed. Alan huffed, but wasn’t to be put off so easily. He was freezing and he was not going to give up on his chance of warmth. He wedged himself onto a spare bit of mattress on one side, tucked his feet up, and then directed his iced feet right at his brother's exposed ankle. The reaction was immediate, Virgil flinched away and curled onto his side on the far side of the bed, still not conscious enough to wake. Alan wriggled into the warm bedding right in the middle and was just congratulating himself when Virgil started snoring. Alan groaned, and stuffed his head under a pillow, there was no way he was giving up the warms! Soon Alan found himself lulled to sleep, some combination of cosy bedding and rhythmic snores, or probably more likely extreme tiredness from a long day on the slopes had Alan drifting off to dreamland.

John was awoken by his bladder, which he ignored for as long as possible because he didn’t want to leave the relative warmth of his bed. But as he lay there thinking, it dawned upon him that he wasn’t actually that warm, it was just that his head and shoulders outside the quilt were FREEZING in comparison. The sheets were clinging on to the cold and John felt like he was being refrigerated for freshness like a chicken breast.

It hadn’t been a problem the previous night, they had stoked up the fire in the main room high enough to chase away even the most stubborn of chills lingering in the bones of the building. Add to that the added warmth that came from sharing a room with the two youngest and John had found it positively stuffy. Now he sneaked an arm out of the bedding and groped blindly for the hoodie that he had left draped on the end of the bed, but try as he might, his fingertips were unable to find the familiar well worn fabric. Maybe it had fallen off the bed. Sighing, he crawled out from under the covers, creeping down the bed until he could peer over the edge, hoping to spy the darker fabric in the gloom, but no, nothing. Well he was even colder now, and his bladder could no longer be denied.

The cold bit into his ankles as he left the bathroom,exposed as they were by just slightly too short pyjama pants, he tugged at the sleeves of his thermal base layer, which really wasn’t up to the task. Detouring he went downstairs, hopeful that one of his perpetually messy brothers would have left a sweater lying around when it had been so warm the previous evening.

Trailing his fingers along the wall to help guide his steps and hopefully avoid a collision course with the coffee table, he drew out the rest of the building layout in his head. He only just stopped himself from “swiping” with his hands to zoom in when he had a sudden thought. Virgil's room sat behind the central fireplace and, by John's guess, was probably also near the route the heating pipes must travel to get to the boiler. Maybe that room had retained a bit more warmth. Yes, it might be noisy, but John had some very good noise cancelling earplugs in his sleep pants pocket. Always planning ahead being a learnt trait for his job and it wasn't something you switched off like the gravity. Also, Virgil may have topped the decibel's when sleeping, but Gordon was no slouch in that area, which John had learnt from bitter past experience.

John stepped softly into the room, it seemed marginally warmer. He also didn't much relish the idea of having to retrace his steps upstairs, it suddenly felt too far away when there was a bed right here.

John's eyes strained in the pale, snow reflected, moonlight to pick out where the edge of the bed was. He had stubbed his toes against enough furniture this trip already. You did not have this problem with a space station fold out bunk. Virgil was easy to spot, a dark lump where he had curled up on one side of the bed. So John stepped carefully to the opposite side and gracefully slid under the covers, pulling them right up to his ears.

Definitely warmer, but as he rolled over onto his side he spotted an abandoned beanie on the bedside cabinet. John's arm shot out from under the quilt and retrieved it. Knowing that you lose most of your body heat through your head. The thick cable knit pattern didn't tally with the hat that John had seen Virgil wearing that day. It was more likely one of Gordon's, which probably meant it was a hideously bright colour, but all of this was bleached out in the weak moonlight. So John rammed it on his head and snuggled once more into the pillows.

Virgil woke with a stabbing point of pain in his side, his brain tried to triage possible causes; kidney stone? Appendicitis? Sudden cracked rib? No, that didn’t fit. It almost felt like someone was digging their elbow in his back. He tried shifting his weight to see if he could ease the pressure. There was a snuffled grunt from behind him and the pain was gone. Virgil froze in place, only half jokingly praying that he wasn't about to find a bear had got in during the night. Peering cautiously over his shoulder he breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of the top of John's NASA hoodie, just peeking out from the mountain of pillows. The bed covers shifted as he rolled over towards the middle of the bed, leaving just enough space that Virgil could inch away from the edge of the bed where he had been pushed during the night. He moved carefully onto his back, you never quite knew where limbs ended with the space noodle. His movement dislodged the bedding that had been pulled tightly around his brother, allowing a tuft of blond hair to become visible around the hood.

So it was the mini space noodle, that explained why his personal space had been invaded quite so emphatically. Disgruntled by the cold air hitting his face, Alan snuggled down further, grumbling in his sleep and shuffled towards the nearest heat source. Virgil found himself pinned by boney elbows, he couldn't account for it, but Alan certainly seemed to be in possession of more boney elbows than should be humanly possible. Virgil let out a pained huff as an equally boney knee cap collided with his own. Attempting to wriggle away only seemed to increase the ferocity of the grip upon him. Virgil gave up and let his head fall back on his one remaining pillow, the rest having been purloined by his baby brother.

A flash of colour on the far side of the bed, just picked out by the early morning gloom, caught Virgil's eye. An unnatural garish yellow something was nestled in the pristine white sheets. Making Virgil think of the equally unnatural mental image of Thunderbird 4 parked on the snowy mountains outside the cabin window. He was clearly still sleepy enough to be verging on the fanciful. Upon further squinting the yellow abomination revealed itself to be a cable knit beanie, that had taken up residence on the far side of the bed. It had to be Gordon, just like when they were children, the youngest two always came as a pair. Virgil wouldn’t have minded if he hadn’t had to be the butt of so many snoring jokes the previous night. It was the reason he was relegated to the furthest room after all. But here they were, back when they needed something, ironic really. Or was it? John would be able to articulate it better.

It wouldn't have been so bad, but in his last lot of wriggling Alan had managed to steal what little of the quilt remained after two greedy brothers had taken more than their fair share and now Virgil's left side was getting distinctly chilly. He groped around blindly for his phone on the cabinet beside him to find out how atrociously early it was so he could decide how tolerant he felt like being towards his heat seeking siblings.

7am, well it could have been worse, but 7am had no right in existing without caffeine. A lumpy elbow, twitching in sleep, reminded Virgil how hopeless his dream of coffee was. He let his phone fall down on his chest as his head flopped back onto his too flat pillow. Objectively he knew he had a pretty good life, but right now all he could think was “why me”?

Then he heard it, the soft clattering of cups and cafetiere being retrieved from the draining board. The rustle of the packet of coffee. His prayers were answered. Scrabbling in his haste he retrieved his phone. He tapped out a garbled message:

“Scottyyy, coffeeeee! Thx”

There was a muffled buzz from the other room, and then a quiet chuckle, but the sounds of coffee preparation continued, so Virgil was optimistic.

A few minutes later Virgil's door was nudged open with a toe and a coffee mug pushed into view through the crack.

“Didn’t know you were looking to hire a servant.” Scott's face followed the mug into the room.

Still pinned as he was, Virgil stuck out his free arm, hand grabbing desperately.

The movement was enough to startle Alan who jerked away, limbs flailing, possibly he was falling in his dreams. He hit the join where the twin beds had been pushed together with enough force to shunt them apart and send him tumbling into the void, the fall in his dream suddenly gaining real permanence. Grabbing hands clawed at armfulls of duvet, but offering no resistance they were dragged down with him until he hit the floor with a soft bump.

Scott had smartly sidestepped to avoid getting run over by the sliding bed base, and now sat down on the exposed mattress near Virgil's knee, handing him the coffee as if they hadn't just watched their baby brother disappear with quite such a cinematic flourish.

“Dramatic much?” Scott said, taking a sip from his own coffee and peering over to the quilt stuffed ravine, while Virgil took the opportunity to pull himself into a sitting position and take possession of the other mug of coffee.

Any answer from the uncharted depths was drowned out by the grumbling from the other bed. The quilt having been so unceremoniously stolen, revealed not a heat seeking squid, but the full sized space noodle. His traditional sprawl of limbs hastily retracted into a foetal position to preserve warmth. The colourful language that accompanied it was enough to singe the air.

Huffing and turning over in a jumble of knees and elbows, John's arms tapped blindly over the fitted sheet in search of a blanket. Touch being his only available sense, as the god-awful yellow hat had shifted during his sprawling sleep and was now stretched lopsidedly over his eyes

Scott and Virgil watched in silence as John shuffled his way across the mattress.

“...should we?” Scott whispered, tilting his head towards the less than graceful spaceman.

Virgil shook his head violently enough to risk spilling his coffee, a barely repressed smile spreading across his lips, Scott couldn’t help but smile along too.

John's fingertips met with blanket fibres and he grabbed at it with both hands and tugged. A muffled shout came from under the bed which sounded suspiciously like a threat to bodily harm. It would have been more convincing if it hadn't been delivered in such a high and squeaky pitch. The blanket jerked back into the void. John was not to be deterred, shoving the hat out of his eyes with his shoulder, he dug his fingers into the last corner of fabric. Sitting up, he braced his feet against the opposite bed, and pulled.

Maybe it was too much time spent on a space station that had screwed with his sense of fixed points. Or maybe it was just that he wasn’t quite firing on all cylinders yet. Whatever the reason, John braced, John pulled, the blanket stayed put, the bed slid, John slid. Spaceman went down, legs went up.

Scott laughed, tucking his feet up onto the bed as it was shunted further across the floor, novelty fluffy socks on full display. There was more muffled cursing from between the beds, which Scott decided not to hear because he couldn’t be bothered with reprimanding the culprit, or even narrowing down the perpetrator. Alan's grasp of foreign languages was really coming on, even if he really ought to focus on more polite conversation starters.

Virgil leaned over the far side of the bed and tried to peer under into the gloom.

“Where is Gordon?” he glanced around suspiciously, this kind of chaos looked right up Gordons street. “Should we be worried?”

“Fingers crossed the cold has slowed him down, that’s what happens with fish isn’t it?” Standing, Scott downed the last of this drink, and only received a shrug in reply from Virgil.

“Should we?” Virgil climbed out of the bed, hissing slightly as his bare feet hit the cold floor, jerking a thumb towards the still cursing knot of bedding.

“They’ll work it out. I think our more pressing problem is trying to warm this place up.”

Scott knew exactly what he was doing, presenting Virgil with a problem was a surefire way to get him up and active. He could almost see the gears turning as his brother thought through possible causes and most of them led straight to the boiler.

Scott followed, more for the look of the thing as Virgil shuffled out of the bedroom, pulling thick socks on as he went by way of a few shuffling hops. Once the boiler cupboard was located, Scott stood to one side of the small space, offering the occasional “hmmmm” or “uh huh,” as Virgil worked through his troubleshooting of the massive antique boiler. It was emitting some alarming clunking sounds, but Virgil was making positive noises, so Scott figured he didn’t need to be worried about an imminent explosion.

Scott watched as Virgil got down on all fours and wriggled into a space that by all rights should not have been able to accommodate his chonky brother, leaving his legs poking out. There was an almighty bang and puff of sooty dust shot out of a vent in the front of the casing.

“You ok in there Virge?” Scott crouched down and tried to peer through the settling dust.

There was a low whistle from Virgil, which at least confirmed he was still breathing. But before Scott could demand further proof of life, the legs started shuffling back providing that Virgil was also still mobile, another good sign. When Virgil finally reappeared there was a massive grin on his face. Also, being Virgil, he had also managed to get enough dust and muck on himself to make for a convincing Victorian street urchin disguise.

“Fixed?” Scott asked, stepping back to avoid the further clouds of dust Virgil was kicking up.

“Uh huh.” Virgil nodded, causing a small shower of soots to fall out of his hair.

“A ‘Tracy Fix’?” Scott gave him an appraising look, one eyebrow raised.

Virgil's smile increased and then he launched into a precise and very technical detailed account of the fix that had been required.

It all flew right over Scotts head with all the grace of a winged seagull. He nodded along initially and then, spotting Virgil shiver, Scott decided to intervene and start steering them both back towards the main body of the building.

“Ok, why don't you go take a shower.” Scott brushed at some of the debris on Virgil's shoulder, then thought better of it when his hand came away black.

Virgil went rigid and flatly refused Scotts attempts to herd him towards the bathroom.

“No Way!”

“You're filthy!”

“I’ll go after breakfast,” Virgil offered, his audibly growling stomach adding its voice to the argument.

“No chance, this is a rental place, your butt is not going anywhere near those chairs!” Scott waved his arms to try and shoo Virgil back into motion.

“Weren’t you listening, Scott? There's not going to be any hot water for at least 45 minutes,” Virgil put on his best puppy dog eyes, which would have worked better when he was 20 years younger, but the wobbling bottom lip was the thing that swayed it. He looked so genuinely sad, and having thrown the accusation that Scott hadn’t been paying attention to anything he had said, Scott didn’t stand a chance.

“Oh…. fine,” Scott relented, “but you’re still not trashing the soft furnishings, wait there and Don’t Move!” he fixed him with a stern look to drive home the command, and also to try and not seem like too much of a push over.

He hurried off, ideas pinging around his head to try and solve the problem at hand. Maybe Virgil wasn’t the only one motivated by problem solving. The argument of whether it was nature or nurture was one that Scott was going to pack away to dissect another day.

Inspiration struck and Scott fumbled with the lock on the french doors. During the summer season they opened out onto a paved patio complete with bbq and picnic tables, but now they were a portal onto a swirling frozen hell. Spiteful sharp snow bit into his face, causing him to squint into the biting wind. Taking a deep breath he darted out into the wild, plotting a course towards his goal. Numb fingers brushed away at a pile of snow until he spotted what he was after. Snatching it up he sprinted back inside. Taking just a moment to tap off the worst of the snow before diving through the doors and slamming them shut behind him.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, and parked the soggy plastic garden chair squarely in the middle of the flagstone tiles by the garden doors. A quick diversion for a couple of hand towels from the kitchen and he mopped up the worst of the snow melt from the chair.

“Virgil!” Scott bellowed, safe in the knowledge that Virgil would respond to his command with a habit born of long practice.

Right on cue, a sooty Virgil edged his way into the room, arms tucked up to his chest and carefully avoiding all surfaces.

“Sit!” Scott commanded, pointing to the sorry looking plastic chair.

Virgil sat.

Scott left. Pausing at the doorway to look back and scowl at Virgil when he looked like he might get up from his perch.

Virgil slumped lower in his seat, accepting his fate and wondering how well he would be able to estimate the passing of 45 minutes without a watch.

He was up to roughly 10 minutes by his count when Scott came back into the room, carrying a plate piled high with hot buttered toast. That was enough to make Virgil perk up a little, although, when he reached out to take a slice he had his hand slapped away, which brought a pout to his face.

“No! Your hands are filthy” the other hand was slapped too and it wasn’t even near the food.

Virgil folded his arms in a huff, but set his strop aside when Scott held out a piece for him to take a bite from, he nearly bit a finger off in his eagerness.

“Ummmm, ‘fanks” he mumbled around toast crumbs.

“Well I was worried you might wake up Gordon with how loud your stomach was rumbling” Scott joked, popping the remainder of the slice in his own mouth.

Virgil pointed towards the next slice, jabbing with one grubby finger until it was lifted towards him.

“Where is’ee?” there were more crumbs sprayed by the question.

“Burritoed under at least three quilts in the middle of John's bed, snoring loud enough to wake the dead, can’t you hear him?” Scott tilted his head to one side to listen.

“What? Dammit, I thought that was the hot water pipes starting to warm!” Virgil stood up, snatched a fresh slice of toast from the plate, ignoring Scotts protests, and stalked back in the direction of the boiler.” Scott followed at a more sedate pace, as he was still stuffing his face with food, you snooze you lose after all. By the time he caught up with Virgil he was just in time to witness another shower of dust, a loud clang and some furious coughing which probably obscured some choice swear words.

Virgil exited quicker this time, the smile completely absent. “ better restart that 45 minutes.” he grumbled, stomping back to his isolated seat.

“The snoring has stopped,” Scott commented as he followed Virgil. “Maybe it was the pipes?”

Further consideration was cut short as a yodelling yell cut through the air coming from the direction of the main bathroom.

“Or, Gordon is awake and testing the water temperature for you!” Scott surmised with a wicked grin.

John and Alan came stumbling out of the downstairs bedroom, John still clinging to the hard won duvet that was tightly wrapped around him toga style.

“What was that?” Alan asked, “it sounded like an animal in pain.”

“Just a frozen fish fillet.” Scott grinned back. Alan frowned, having no idea what he was on about.

“Or frostbitten fish fingers” Virgil added, drawing their attention to himself and thereby raising even more questions.

“What? Just what?” John asked, waving his arm in Virgil's general direction and looking to Scott for some sort of explanation. “Does it have anything to do with this? And do I want to know.”

“Broken boiler - fixed” said Scott, pointing at Virgil with the final piece of toast. He let it get too close though, and Virgil was able to lunge forward and steal nearly half of it in one bite, sprinkling a little extra dust on the floor with the sudden movement.

Scott snatched his hand away before he really did lose a digit and pointed up at the ceiling with the stump of toast that remained. “No hot water - yet.”

“Oh” nodded Alan and John in unison, it was a testament to their close working relationship that those few words were enough to dispel the panic and catch everyone up on the events of the morning. John slumped onto a nearby couch, kicking his duvet swaddled legs up so that he took up all the available space. Alan tried to nudge John's legs aside to make space for himself, but was booted towards the kitchen by one of the feet he was trying to shift.

“So nice of you to offer to get more toast.” John said, settling down comfortably in his nest.

“Thanks Al!” Scott handed the empty plate to Alan as he passed, looking slightly confused at the turn of events.

“Huh?!” he waddled off, feet swamped by clearly stolen fluffy socks.

“Better make extra, Kayo should be here soon!” John prompted.

When Kayo arrived she was greeted by the sight of all five brothers huddling around a freshly built fire, munching their way through two loaves worth of toast. Virgil was sitting on the floor in front of the blaze, prodding it intermittently with a poker. He was covered in muck and dust, and even had a few cobwebs in his hair. It seemed an unlikely side hustle given his size, but it looked like he had attempted a new career as a chimney sweep.

Gordon was sitting in the closest armchair to the fire, mummified in towels, bare legs swinging over the armrest, damp hair sticking to his forehead.

Alan was wedged into the corner of the couch, tucked under John's legs, and was eating peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon.

Scott was stretched out on his back on the rug in front of the fire, arms folded behind his head and was snoring gently. Several toast crusts were balanced on his forehead and some mucky fingerprints pointed to the guilt of at least one of the perpetrators.

At Kayos quiet cough to announce her arrival, Scott jerked awake and ended up with dry crusts in his eye. Virgil turned in her direction so fast that a shower of dust came down from his hair and caused a sneezing fit.

“I thought you guys were here for an action packed winter sports holiday,” she asked, arms folded and one eyebrow raised in challenge.

Scott clambered off the floor, hurriedly brushing himself down. “We were just about to, weren’t we guys?” he called over his shoulder as he left towards the kitchen.

“Speak for yourself Scotty. I haven’t even got underwear on yet!”

“Too much information Gordie.” Virgil chastised, and then was forced to shield his eyes as Gordon made a big act of folding and refolding his legs and readjusting his towel wrapping. “Gordon!” and he threw a scrap of kindling in Gordons general direction.

“So what exactly happened to him?” Kayo pointed at the soot gremlin by the fire.

Virgil looked up, smiled and proclaimed: “it was the hood!”

Kayo was instantly on guard, her stance dropping and her hands coming protectively to her front. “Situation Report!” she barked, eyes scanning the room.

Virgil’s eyes went wide, realising his mistake, he scrambled to his knees, palms held up placatingly. “No no no!! I mean, it was the extraction hood cut off for the boiler!” Kayo relaxed, but still looked puzzled. “It was jammed, right at the junction, now it’s not. Sorry.” He rushed the explanation out as quickly as possible and then sank back onto his heels.

Kayo’s whole posture softened. “Dare I ask about Gordon? Was it the Chaos Crew?”

“Chaos is right enough,” Virgil laughed, glad to be changing the subject, “He was too early hitting the showers, the hot water hadn't caught up.”

“Oh sure, laugh about it, hypothermia is no joke guys.” Gordon grumbled, fastidiously adjusting a corner of tucked towelling.

“So this is what happens when you’re left unattended, is it?” Kayo looked around the room. They all had the decency to look slightly abashed. “I bet you haven’t even decided on a film yet?” she punctuated this with a hand on her hip.

“Huh?” Alan mumbled incoherently around a mouthful of peanut butter. Which earned him a prod in the side from John’s foot. Kayo caught John’s foot before it was lowered again, and used it to flip John's legs out of the way, making room for herself on the middle seat cushion. She plucked the jar and spoon out of Alan's unresisting hands, placing it out of reach on the floor. Holding out her other hand, she waited expectantly until Scott returned and placed a fresh plate of toast on her upturned palm.

Alan didn’t even try to hide his impressed astonishment off his face at how she had orchestrated the whole manoeuvre perfectly. Gordon even gave a little round of applause. Scott wasn’t quite sure how he had once again lost his toast, but he accepted it and trudged back to the kitchen to try again. By the time he got back with his latest attempt at breakfast, Virgil had been sent for a shower, Gordon had been sent to find pants and a film had been lined up. They all settled down to enjoy a more relaxed “snow day” and Scott was eternally grateful to Kayo for creating more order in the few minutes she had been there than they had collectively managed the entire morning.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds fanfiction #tag team secret santa 2023

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