i was supposed to stop after that first one but

2

So I started my weekend off on Thursday morning. I flew to NYC to see TD. My flight was one of the last ones to get into LGA before landing strip closures for the weather. He was supposed to arrive an hour after me, but because of delays he was about 5 hours.

On my way into the city I stopped by my future roommates company in Long Island City and gave him my deposit and first month’s rent. He’s a super cool guy and it was nice to touch base the week before I move up permanently.

As soon as I got to the airport in the current city I realized I forgot to pack the two sex toys TD and I use. He LOVES using them on me so I sent him a text apologizing. By the time I landed, he had forwarded me an adult shop address near the hotel and told me to go and pick out a few things. I only carried my Neverfull for the NYC leg of my trip, but it was raining so I wanted to unload at the hotel first.

After settling in (we stayed near Central Park) I ran over to Bergdorf’s to get a new foundation (I use Charlotte Tilbury and ran out a couple weeks ago) and a couple more Chanel eyeshadows. Then I went to the sex shop. It was a boutique and a woman maybe 10 years older than me led me around and asked what my preferences were. We settled on a super cute vibrator with a little flipper end (I’m pretty sensitive so the big vibes are too much for me), a butt plug vibe and a great new lube. None of them had prices on them and I didn’t want to ask. But she rang me up, it was $250. What the fuck. The most expensive toy I’ve ever bought was like $40.

I texted TD and told him how expensive it was, he said not to worry about it and he’ll send the money on PayPal. I went back to the hotel after and decided to have a glass of champagne and Manhattan at the bar. I chatted with the bartender for a while and she asked me what brought me in. I told her my boyfriend was there on business. After about an hour I went upstairs to shower, shave and lotion up.

There was this great alcove in our room I could sit in next to the window. I perched up there in my slip until he finally arrived. We had about 45 minutes before our reservation at Lavo. He was pretty horny from the second he got in the door so we had sex real quick before. I touched up my makeup then we walked over.

We started with our glasses of champagne, then he ordered a bottle of red. We got cocktail shrimp (my favorite at places with a good raw bar), split a huge salad and then split two entrees. He got a swordfish special and I ordered a linguine bolognese with a massive meatball on the side.

We had a really long and leisurely dinner catching up on my new job and how his business and family are doing. Both tables to the left and right of us finished about halfway through our dinner, new parties filled the two tables and they left before we were done.

We talked about our highlight reel from Vegas and how much fun we had together. He told me the hotel bill was crazy high when he got the final invoice 😂 I gave him an innocent “oh no, I’m so sorry!” He just laughed and said it’s fine, it was worth it. Obviously he didn’t realize I charged that Alo outfit to the room.

When we were really relaxed and conversation was flowing easily, I slipped in asking for a favor. I’m moving next week, but my apartment is a walkup in Chelsea. My mom and I are driving there together so I can give her my car to take home. She has really bad arthritis and has trouble with stairs, but hotels in the city are crazy expensive, so I asked him if he could book me two nights. He said we’d figure it out tomorrow and I left it at that.

There’s a 20 layer cake on the dessert menu that sounded amazing. I was so full, I could barely eat anything more, but I asked if I could order it for a couple bites and take the rest home. When we finally wrapped up, we started walking back to the hotel.

He asked if I wanted to get another drink at the hotel before calling it a night, to which I obviously obliged. The same bartender from earlier was still at the bar. I told her my boyfriend was older… but TD is in his 40s 😂 so I’m sure she had a good laugh at my expense.

We went upstairs and unwrapped the toys, had some fun together and called it a night since we both had full days the next day. My friends were driving up to Boston and drove through NYC to pick me up on the way there. They stayed in Brooklyn for the night and his meeting was in FiDi, so we packed up and left the hotel together.

Before we left, he handed me a wad of 20s and apologized because he didn’t have time to get 100s out. He also said he’d set up a hotel reservation and text me the confirmation over the weekend. We went down in the elevator together, then bid each other ado on the street corner. I got on the subway to Brooklyn and went back to vanilla life.

Logan is a Western, and it Changes Everything

Logan makes every other superhero film in the past fifteen years look like a cheap parlor trick. For two hours and twenty one minutes, it locks you in and makes you watch a movie that doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to. It’s uncomfortable and messy and it doesn’t satisfy. Wolverine’s claws are uneven and his kills are ugly. People die with no last words, no proper sendoff and no closure. Logan provokes visceral reactions time and again, not because it’s violent, but because it’s painful, and everything else now looks plastic by comparison.

From the top, let me say I hope this doesn’t come across as some edgy rant arguing for more gore and profanity in superhero films. That’s not my point. I should also confess that I have no experience with the X-Men comics, or with comics at all for that matter. I’m not arguing that The Avengers would have been better with a few more fucks given. All I’m saying is that Logan changes things, and the rest of the genre needs to take notice and adapt.

I expect words like “raw” and “gritty” will be thrown around a lot in discussing Logan. I’m hesitant to use that vernacular because it’s the same language people use to describe The Dark Knight, and the two really aren’t that comparable. They both step outside the box of contemporary comic book movies, but where The Dark Knight is a thriller, Logan is a western, and therein lies the difference that makes Hugh Jackman’s final outing so important.

In the modern Hollywood superhero archetype, the greater message to the audience is apparent to the characters. Superman is a symbol of justice and goodness, and he understands that just as well as we do. In The Dark Knight, Batman represents the basic human struggle between morality and chaos that thematically pervades throughout the whole film. Both forces are at work in Bruce Wayne, and The Joker and Two Face bring that inner conflict into the spotlight. And Batman gets this. He understands he’s a symbol in some broader thematic picture.

In a western, Batman doesn’t get it. We get it, and therefore we have certain expectations about how Batman is supposed to act and how the plot is supposed to go. Batman doesn’t see the deeper significance of his circumstances, so his actions don’t match our expectations. He doesn’t stop to consider what he’s supposed to do in a narrative sense.

The Dark Knight is clean. Maybe that’s controversial, but it shouldn’t be. Yes, Rachel dies. Yes, Harvey Dent succumbs to The Joker’s twisted social experiment, and yes, Batman takes the fall when he shouldn’t have to. But that all makes sense. It fulfills the thematic ends we anticipated when we bought our tickets. We understand what Batman and Joker represent, and we’d be shocked if the movie ended happy. In the end, we get what we paid for. It’s clean. It satisfies.

Logan does not satisfy. It isn’t clean because no part of it understands the rules it’s supposed to follow. Professor X insists on being crass, pathetic and generally wrong about everything, despite our presumption that he’s meant to be kind, strong and wise. Characters die in the middle of fights, dazed and confused with no forewarning, no tidy arc or epiphany and no greater thematic significance. And when they’re buried, Logan offers no words to explain why. It doesn’t resolve the major plot points revealed in the film’s third act. It refuses to give us the explanations we demand. Hell, the whole crux of the plot is that Wolverine’s powers have stopped functioning properly. He doesn’t work the way he’s supposed to.

I also expect Logan will see a lot of comparisons to last year’s Deadpool. After all, the two films mark the first two consecutive steps in Fox’s ongoing experiment in R-rated superhero movies. The difference is that Deadpool puts a filter on the established tropes of the genre, while Logan takes a filter off.

At no point while watching Ryan Reynolds bloodily slice up extras and spout crude one-liners did I see Deadpool as some new norm. It doesn’t feel natural, it feels off. In a good way mind you, but off nonetheless.  Logan, on the other hand, makes everything else feel off. Suddenly, every prior film Fox, DC and Disney have ever put out in the genre looks fake. Where’s the ugliness? Where’s the pain? I’m not asking Chris Hemsworth to start decapitating people in Thor: Ragnarok, but looking back now I can’t help notice all the lines, all the actions, all the moments that felt stiff and unnatural. The Marvel Cinematic Universe has always been primed and focus-tested, there’s no revelation there. The Hollywood blood was visibly coursing right beneath the skin, and everyone accepted it. But now Logan has cut an adamantium gash and the Hollywood is spilling out, impossible to ignore anymore.

Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine holds a pedigree as old as the contemporary superhero film. Tobey Maguire’s masked debut in Spiderman made such a huge splash upon release in 2002 that lots of people forget it was preceded two years by the original X-Men. Long before Robert Downey Jr. became an idol for American children, Hugh Jackman and Wolverine laid the early groundwork that would become modern comic book blockbusters as we know them. The X-Men franchise built the foundation for the genre’s multibillion-dollar card tower, and in one breath James Mangold blew the whole thing down and showed us all what a façade it was.

Up until now, superhero flicks have been Hollywood’s Top 40 pop hits. Sure Batman might switch into a minor key and Deadpool slapped a parental advisory label on the cover, but they still played on the same stations. Logan composes in a whole different time signature. It’s new and different and feels unnatural, and it can’t be ignored.

I watched Owari no Seraph recently and please send help I can’t stop crying over these boys

Inspired by this amazing edit

Request: Deal breaker

Request: Can you do an imagine where you and happy are married with 2 toddlers and you find out he cheats on you so take the kids and leave and he can’t find you the ending fluffy?

I named the kids, I hope you don’t mind. Another sad imagine, please don’t hate the writer.

Tig Trager Warns You, This Imagine Contains: cheating

Originally posted by samcroimagine

Y/N’s POV

I began to hang around Samcro in one of those rare calm phases, when club was doing good and just working hard. Despite all the warnings about his nickname, reputation and the fact he didn’t do romance, I fell for Happy Lowman. I couldn’t help it, there was just something about him that attracted me like a magnet. No, it hadn’t been love at first sight though, and we weren’t that close in the beginning. Happy wasn’t looking for romance and I wasn’t expecting flowers and serenades. We were looking for a partner, just someone to walk by our side after disappointments and getting tired of solitude.

We were in the same page, and when we realized it, our relationship evolved. We began to date, open up to each other and Happy showed me a new side of him. I understood then; he was capable of romance, but his own kind and shown by his actions. We were in love and got married in a beautiful spring night. A year later, our son, Gabriel, was born to become his dad’s proud and a while later Penelope came to be Happy’s joy.

Our life was simple and good, and we were happy; but nothing can remain untouched or not affected by the Samcro life forever. Happy tried to keep me in the dark for a while, but an old lady just know, on her heart, when something is going wrong. My husband spending less time at home wasn’t helping either. I had never put my feet at Redwoody, but there I was, looking for my husband after two nights that he hadn’t come back home. I also had nothing against Lyla, but as the person running the place and the first one I saw, she was an inevitable target. Her eyes, big as plates, told I wasn’t supposed to be there and something would hurt me if I kept walking inside the studio.

“Where is he Lyla?”, I kept my voice down. One thing I had learnt from Happy Lowman was that a low and monotonous tone not always means calm. She begged and tried to stop me, but I ignored Lyla. I found them. The girl, asleep on a couch, wearing his shirt and my husband’s clothes on the floor as I heard the shower in the bathroom next door.

“Y/N”, Lyla followed me as I turned around and marched out of that place. She was talking, but I wasn’t listening. All I wanted to do was go back home, pack my things and take my kids with me to far from that town. As I said, nothing was perfect around Samcro and neither was my plan, because I bumped into Jax and Chibs on my way out.

“What is going on?”, the MC President creased his brow as he noticed the angry me and the desperate Lyla. I took off my weeding band and put it on Jax’s hand.

“Please, give it back to Happy”

Happy’s POV

“What is this?”, Happy asked as Jax put a ring on his hand.

“She told me to give it back to you”, his brother grimaced as he recognized the ring as Y/N’s wedding band. Happy looked around, confused and met Lyla’s sad eyes.

“She wouldn’t listen to me or stop”, the girl whispered, “Y/N saw you and…”

He didn’t listen the rest of it, Happy stormed out the studio and hopped onto his bike. Jax and Chibs followed him as he rode toward his house. This wasn’t him, Happy had let things get under his skin and he couldn’t regret it more. Club always had come first and it had been overwhelming lately, he had been hiding his clothes covered in blood from Y/N, not wanting to bring it inside his house, close to his kids. However, he had done it, in his attempt to stay away from home to protect his family, he had made a mistake that could make him lose everything.

“Y/N!”, Happy yelled as walked upstairs. He haven’t heard his children’s voices and the rooms were a mess. She had packed in a hurry. He went downstairs again; Jax and Chibs were standing on his living room and watching as Happy dialed Juice’s number, “Track down Y/N’s phone. NOW!”

“What do you wanna do brother?”, Jax asked, watching Happy closely.

“Mom”, he barked and stormed outside. They rode, as fast as they could, to Happy mother’s house. Y/N was close to his mom and kids absolutely loved their abuela. He just had parked his bike when Juice called back.

“No sign of her man”, the boy said, “I’ll keep trying for the phone and her credit card”

Happy didn’t answer and his mother was already coming to meet him, followed by a worried caretaker, trying to get her inside again. He had no choice but to tell her what had happened. As much as his mother loved him, she wasn’t blind to her son’s mistakes and scolded Happy as he was a little boy.

“You bring mis nietos back!”, she just barked and went back inside. Happy, Jax and Chibs tried everywhere; Venus’ and Donna’s houses and even Gemma’s. Y/N was nowhere to be found. He was getting desperate as the night fell, wondering if his kids where asking for daddy and if their mother already had taken them miles away.

Happy haven’t slept and Gemma was sadly looking at him as she poured a cup of coffee. Juice hadn’t had success in tracking Y/N and he was out of ideas where she might have gone. Happy opened his wallet and looked at the pictures; one of his family, Y/N, Gabriel and Penelope, and another one of him and Y/N in front of their house. They just had moved from her first apartment to a bigger house to start their family. Y/N still had the apartment though, she had rent it, but nobody had been living there in months. Suddenly, Happy had an idea and without telling it to anybody, he hopped onto his bike again.

Y/N’s POV

My old apartment was a good place to hide. Happy had moved in as soon as we got married and the place was perfect for us, but our family would grow with Gabriel and we needed a bigger house. Happy wanted a yard for his son to play and maybe a dog too. I had insisted in keeping the apartment though, it had been a present from my father and I didn’t want to sell it. I rent it, but it had been empty for months. It only had a bed with an old mattress, but it would be enough for us until I decide what to do.

I had thrown my phone away, so Juice couldn’t track it and I had money, I wouldn’t have to use my credit card so soon. I bought food and kids were still sleeping. I had been staring at my new burner phone, thinking if it was a good idea to call my mother, who lived in Nevada. I was about to get up and wake up the kids when someone opened the front door. I looked around for my purse and the gun inside it, but I stopped when I saw my husband standing there.

“Y/N”, Happy let out a relieved sigh and walked toward me. I held out a hand to stop him.

“Kids are sleeping”, I whispered and he nodded. We never had been the kind of couple that would argue for the neighborhood to listen. Actually, we weren’t the kind of couple that argued at all.

“You worried me, I had been looking for you”, Yes, I could see the signs of a sleepless night on his eyes. I wanted to hug him, feel those arms around me again, but Happy had hurt me.

“I saw you with that girl”, I crossed my arms and walked backwards, putting distance between us. I saw his jaw twitch, Happy had said once that he never wanted to scare me, make me run from him.

“Y/N”, he begged, letting me know how desperate he was. Happy Lowman never begged.

“Were you drunk?”, I cut him off.

“No”, he answered. I had to ask, it wouldn’t make me forgive him, but I need a reason, anything to help me understand, “I have no excuse for what I did. Club business had been taking the best of me, I didn’t want to bring it inside our house, to our children lives, so I stayed away. It had been a tough day again, I was pissed off and then she was there, pushing me and I… I…”

“I’ve never thought you would do something like this to me Hap”, my voice was breaking, I hadn’t cried yet, I had to be strong for my children, “Trust is so damn important to you”

“You have no idea how sorry I am”, Happy grimaced and he looked almost in pain, “I would give anything to go back in time and undo this”

I couldn’t hold back anymore, I let the tears flow. Happy pulled me to his embrace, held me close and tight. I felt his lips brushing mine. In the past, it would have been enough to lead us to our bedroom. In the present, it just made me feel a lump on my throat and I pulled back, “You know I can’t forgive you Hap”

“Babe”, he whispered, still holding me, “We always have been able to talk and work things out”

“Not in this case Hap”, I opened my hands over his chest, feeling his heart beating fast and I gently pushed him away, “I can’t, cheating is a deal breaker”

“The kids”, I heard Happy’s voice break for the first time since I had met him.

“I’m not taking them away from you”, I assured him. I couldn’t do it, my children need their father. It would be a mistake to run away with them, I realized it when I saw Happy’s misery, “I just need time”

“You can go back to our house”, he swallowed, “I’m going to the clubhouse”

“Hap…”, I started.

“No, no arguing about this babe”, he sadly smiled, “I won’t let you or the kids here. You deserve a good place. I’d be damned if I not provide for my family”

We looked at each other for a moment, both breathing deeply. Happy pulled me to him and hugged me tight again. Our children woke up and we took them back to our house. Happy told them he had to work. We had decided to wait and explain to them what was actually happening later. He packed as I distracted Gabriel and Penelope on the living room. He kissed both goodbye and I walked him to the door.

“You can come over to see them anytime”, I hugged myself, as I was trying to keep me from breaking into a million pieces.

“I will”, Happy reached for my arms and caressed them, “You can call me anytime if you need anything, absolutely anything”

“I know Hap, I know”, I nodded and stood on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, “I’m still your friend you know, I care about you”

“I care about you a lot too little girl”, he whispered and kissed my forehead, his lips lingering on my skin, “I’m still your best friend and I will always be here for you. Always”

Nemesis Mine

Chapter 1

Chapter 2. Baz.

Simon is starting to heal. It’s been a few days and I’ve been watching him almost constantly, usually when he’s not paying attention (I’m always looking at him when he’s not paying attention). I notice the way he carries himself and how he never flinches when his shoulder or his arm brushes against a wall or bumps into another student, so I finally decide that he’s really fine. He hasn’t been seriously hurt.

He looks up and smiles when I walk into our room, collapsing in my desk chair.

‘Hey, Baz,’ he says. ‘Long day?’

Simon communicates in shrugs and fragmented sentences. We’ve been roommates since we both started at Watford at the beginning of the year and after a few weeks I realised it’s just the way he is.

‘You have no idea,’ I say with a groan. ‘My tutor is a complete git.’

He’s flicking a pen back and forth between his fingers, and it flies across the room. He blushes and laughs.

Simon also blushes easily. I try not to have too much fun with it.

‘Look, do you want to go out for dinner?’ he says casually once he’s retrieved the pen. He sets it down on the desk and folds his arms.

I raise an eyebrow. Simon loves the food we get in the dining hall, especially the fact that our meals are included in our accommodation and are already paid for, meaning he can eat as much as he wants.

‘I would love to,’ I say, and his entire being seems to light up. (Fuck.) ‘But I can’t. I’m behind on my assignment, and I’m busy tonight.’

He pouts. ‘Behind as in due in a week, right?’

I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, so?’

‘So that’s not behind by most people’s standards, smart-ass.’

I smirk. ‘Fine. I’m barely on time with my assignment.’

‘Great, then you can go out with me,’ he says with a winning smile.

Words, Simon, I want to chide him. He’ll either not use them at all, or he uses them to imply things that he probably doesn’t mean.

‘Nope. Sorry, Simon, but I really am busy.’

Sometimes I just want to say fuck the superhero life and walk away from my family. I’d much rather go out for dinner with Simon than go chasing bad guys. (The chasing itself isn’t even so bad. It’s what comes after.)

‘Doing what?’ He sticks out his chin and stares me down, defying me not to give him a straight answer.

Oh, Simon. I wouldn’t lie to you if I didn’t have to.

‘Meeting friends,’ I say, avoiding his eyes.

Meeting friends in dark alleys in the middle of the night. That’s what I always imply, and it sounds dodgy enough that he knows not to ask any more questions. I suppose Simon thinks I’m in some sort of gang or something. It seemed like the most plausible excuse as to why I keep coming back hurt late at night. Soccer practice stopped sounding believable after the first two weeks.

‘Right, meeting friends,’ he echoes. ‘Guess I’ll see you later then.’

‘Yeah, later, Simon.’

Keep reading

A Girl Called Mike - Part 1

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Word Count: About 2900

Summary: The reader disguises herself during hunting jobs as a man named Mike and has met up with the Winchesters several times. They are unaware of her true identity. Feeling they know and trust Mike, they agree to invite the reader to the bunker.

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Violence

This is purely for a hobby and my enjoyment. Maybe some of you will enjoy it too. I am by no means a writer so I apologize in advance for any mistakes or grammatical/spelling errors. I appreciate any feedback or suggestions!

—–

“You doing okay there Mike?” Dean came up asking you.

You had joined up with the Winchesters on a case, as you occasionally did, this time by accident as you both caught wind of a this one from a state news site. Ghouls it turned out to be. You couldn’t care less usually about ghouls, helped out the problem of decomposition, but when they started making snacks out of the living you had to put them back into place.

You used your ball cap to brush the dust and cobwebs off your flannel (the blood would require more intense cleaning) and placed it back atop your short haired wig that concealed your longer hair.

“Yup, I’m good.” You confirmed in your long-practiced lowered voice. You had used cigarettes at first, but after months of learning to talk with your throat, it eventually came naturally. “Except I keep wondering when it’s your turn to be the bait.” You joked.

Dean rested his hand on your shoulder as he laughed unknowing sending a wave of electricity through your body upon contact. “I suppose when you stop volunteering.”

“Reckon we better find Sam?” You suggested.

His hand left your shoulder and you resisted  the urge to reach out and grab his hand. You had played this act for so long it was second nature, but Dean Winchester was the one weakness that could unravel it all, and you hated yourself for it.

Sam found you both before you had the chance to go looking for him. “Hey, you guys okay?”

“Yeah,” the both of you responded in unison. “You?” You added rubbing at the glued on facial hair on our jawline.

“Unscratched.” Sam boasted.

“I need a beer.” You commented.

“I’m with ya.” Dean added. “Same place as last night?”

“Absolutely,” you agreed. “But first I need to freshen up.” You mentioned as you all made your way out of the crypt.

“Always trying to impress the ladies Mike.” Sam joked.

“Yeah, it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I smell like a grave or the blood stains.” You remarked sarcastically. “I’ll meet up with you.”

“Don’t be too long, Dean thrives off the competition.” Sam said referring to the local ladies.

“I could take your ugly asses on double or nothing.” You challenged, cringing on the inside, comments like these being part of the reason you felt the need to disguise yourself.

Keep reading

Raising Kyuuta

A/N: I just NEEEEED to write a tickle fic with these two because omg so adorable and Ren/Kyuuta is such a grumpy little kid/teen haha. Doing this for my own fun, I haven’t seen the movie [Bakemono no Ko] around the community so no one might read or understand this but thats okay. I JUST WANTED TO.

Summary: Kumatetsu finds difficulties in raising the young human kid until he discovers a certain thing that makes him go weak with laughter. Now that is a unique way of taming his disciple! [platonic family tickles duhhhh]

Word Count: 1348


[9 years]

“Stop calling me fucking Kyuuta!”

“I am eating plenty, don’t tell me what to do!”

“Damn it let me sleep longer!”

Kumatetsu’s entire face twitched when he sat at the kitchen table after his first few tiring days dealing with his new disciple Kyuuta. It was one hell of a business. For a nine year old he sure had an attitude. Were all humans like this? 

The kid wouldn’t even tell him his name. He wouldn’t wake up at the supposed time, refused to react to the name Kyuuta so far despite not telling his real name, and he refused to train with him when he was ‘too tired’, a.k.a. a lazy litle shit. 

And now, after a few days more…

“Kyuuta. When was the last time you took a bath?” Kyuuta who was just busy forcing some rice with raw eggs down his throat tensed up and looked at him, his ears getting a bright red color.

“Yesterday,” he said. The dirt had literally become one with his skin and his hair looked awfully gross.

“Liar. Take a bath after dinner,” Kumatetsu ordered.

“No.”

“Take a damn bath!”

“NO!” The rebellious little boy stood and banged the kitchen table, and Kumatetsu followed and their little chasing routine started again. He was so done with him. So done! 

“HA! You can’t get me!” Kyuuta roared, running around the house and around the table with a roaring Kumatetsu after him. Kumatetsu was close after him though, but when Kyuuta made another round around the table his furious master suddenly spun on his heels and changed directions.

And then and there for the first time, he won their chasing game and caught him; Kyuuta was too late to drop his speed and he ran straight into his arms.

“Gotcha!” Kumatetsu said, and he started to peel at the boy’s clothes.

“Now take these off and clean yoursefl!” His fingers were digging into the struggling body to get a grip on his shirt, and that was when Kyuuta snorted loudly and let out a cute mewling sound.

“Lehet go!” he giggled, his arms flailing and legs kicking, but there was a smile on his face. Was he looking forward to a bath after all?

“Having fun now?” Kumatetsu asked obliviously, and he continued to bring the shirt up over his head. Kyuuta jerked heavily and barked out a high pitched squealing laugh.

“AHA don’t touch me!” he yelled, and Kumatetsu dropped his shirt back down again and cocked his head. Humans were so weird. Kyuuta was being angry, but he was laughing as well.

“You are a weird kid,” he said, poking his tiny tummy, and this made Kyuuta squeak and pull back desperately to avoid his touch.

“Don’t touch me! That tickles hahaha!” he squeaked, and that’s when Kumatetsu’s face brightened.

“Ah that’s right? Humans are teeckles right?” he said happily, and he experimentally poked Kyuuta’s tummy again.

Ticklish you stupid ass-hahahaha no wait!” Kumatetsu now wiggled his fingers over his disciple’s torso, seeking out whatever touch and where would make him react the best.

“This is the first time I hear you laughing son,” Kumatetsu commented through Kyuuta’s hysterical laughter, and he lifted him easily, placed him on the kitchen table and clawed at his sides with both hands.

“I’M NOT YOUR SOHOHOHN!” Woah. The half emptied plates with rice and raw eggs got knocked over and fell with clattering noises onto the floor because of Kyuuta’s flailing arms and legs, but Kumatetsu didn’t mind now. He was rather fascinated by the ability to make the grumpy little kid laugh like this.

Keep reading

The Obligatory Mistletoe Fic

But written by me, so there’s that

(Also Available on AO3)


Harry dug through his bag and groaned when he realized he had left his half-finished assignment up in the tower. He glanced up at Hermione guiltily and she just shook her head.

“I’ll, er, just go grab it and be right back then,” Harry said quickly, pushing out of his chair and hurrying out of the library. He desperately needed Hermione’s help on the theory part of the transfiguration assignment due after the holiday break and she was headed home in two days.

So he wasn’t paying attention as he should have been, which is to say, he had completely forgotten about the rogue mistletoe that had been put up around the school by romantics and assholes alike. Until his feet stuck fast to the floor and he nearly faceplanted onto the flagstones. He just barely caught himself on the archway from which the nasty little plant hung, looking innocuous and seasonally festive. Harry desperately wished Headmistress McGonagall hadn’t left them up for some sadistic reason. He’d complain about it but all his friends thought it was lovely and romantic. All his friends were also in relationships and were far too wrapped up in themselves.

Harry was not in a relationship, Harry Potter was, in fact, irritable and annoyed because the only person in the whole damn school he fancied in the least was Draco Malfoy. It was like the universe never got tired of fucking with him. He finally killed old Tom No-Nose for the second time and he couldn’t even have a nice normal school romance for his nice normal last year of school. Nope. Malfoy had to come back to school looking fit as hell and left no room in Harry’s brain for anyone else.

Speak of the devil.

Harry groaned as Malfoy spotted him, glanced up at the doorway, and smirked.

“Stuck are you, Potter?” Malfoy sneered, sauntering over, “Where’s the Potter fan club when you need them to come suck your face and set you loose on the world once more.”

Harry stared blankly into space six inches to the left and slightly above Malfoy’s head wondering how his life had lead up to this point.

Malfoy frowned and stepped closer, “Has the mistletoe removed your last functioning brain cells? Granted, I was fairly certain you only had two left, to rub together for warmth.”

Harry had a lovely idea.

Keep reading

Upside Down (part 5)

Intro: We are getting there folks - ALMOST THERE.  The last part, this part, and the next part are my favourite, I think.  So I hope you enjoy (mua ha ha)

Notes on this part: GET IT TOGETHER

Pairing: Scotty x reader (and best friend!Jim Kirk)

Word Count:  902

Warnings: totally 100% fake engineering everything, (I was too lazy to actually come up with proper terms so I just made up words), eventual injury, swears.

Summary: The starting point for this fic was Scotty x reader who loves engineering as much as he does.  So that’s where I went with this fic.  You are second-in-command engineer and Scotty one day ends up being in charge, much to your chagrin.  You butt heads.  Scotty gets hurt.  Feelings get hurt (mostly my own).  Welcome to my trashcan.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

-Enjoy!-

It had been two weeks since the crash, and Scotty hadn’t come to see you, and you hadn’t gone to see him since you told him about the letter.  He was finally released from the medbay, but not cleared to work yet, that started tomorrow, so you thought you’d best find him before you had your first shift together.

You found him heading into his quarters.

“Hey.” You said, your hands nearly shaking from nervousness as you wrung them, “Can we talk?”

Scotty pursed his lips, his eyes meeting yours fleetingly before gesturing you to go into his quarters.  When the door slid closed behind you, you almost stopped breathing, and you turned slowly to face him.

“Listen, Scotty…” You started, having practiced the speech that you would give him over and over the past two weeks.

“No, you listen.” He interrupted, his eyes boring into yours, “You were never supposed to see that letter.”

“I know…”

“Lassie, will ye shut up for a minute, I’m tryna tell you something important.” Scotty snapped and you gulped, staying silent so he could continue.

“From day one you have been nothin’ but a pain in my hide, a misplaced cog in a sea of gears, a nuisance t’say the least.  But after the first time you nearly tore my head off over the tiniest string of programming, I knew you were something special.  And then I was done for, lass.  I wrote that letter because I couldn’t keep all my feelings inside, I needed to get them out, and maybe then I could go back to hating you, but I never stood a chance, ya see.  I never stood a chance because every time you waltzed through those doors, with your big brain and… and that look of determination on your face, every time you looked at me, I fell further.”

He took a breath, you had stopped breathing.

“And then I go and get hurt and who is at my bedside?  You.  So you cannae blame me if I thought for a wee second that you might actually may have returned those feelings.  I poured my heart into that letter and you basically told me it meant nothing t’you.  What am I suppos’ to think abou’ that?” Scotty’s tone was a mix of frustration and desperation, and his eyes raked your face as if searching for something.

“You’re supposed to think I’m an idiot.” You blurted, and his mouth pressed into a tight line, his eyes falling to the floor.

“Which I’m pretty sure you do.  And I’m pretty sure I am.  But you have to know why I reacted the way I did because I can’t stand the thought of you hating me, Scotty.  I just can’t.” You shook your head, emotions flying through you at the speed of light, barely controllable.

“Nobody has ever said anything like that about me before.  And it scared the hell out of me, Scotty.  The things you wrote… I-I never thought anyone would ever write such beautiful words about me.  Especially not you.”

You paused, wringing your hands in front of you tightly, your eyes now falling away from him.

“I tried to force myself to hate you, tried to tell myself that you were just something in the way of me becoming chief of engineering one day.  Because that would have been easier than feeling the way I do about you.”

Scotty’s eyes flicked up and you met his gaze, his mouth fell open, “And how’s tha-”

“You almost died.” You looked at him desperately now, tears perched on your lids, and you wanted to reach for him so bad, but you were still scared.

“You almost died and I thought my heart was going to grind to a halt like a C3 engine with no pipe oil.  And that’s when I realized how I felt.  That’s when I realized I wanted you looking over my shoulder and criticizing every thing I do, I wanted to hear your insane yelling when something wasn’t working like we wanted it.  We should be a team. We are the exact same, you and I.  We should be inseparable. And I’m sorry it took me so long to figure that out, but here I am, now, all figured out.”

You shrugged your shoulders, your hands tucked into your pockets, feeling  like he could see each and every emotion written on your skin, like it was that easy to express all the things you wanted to.  You were surprised to find a look of confusion on his face.

His brows furrowed more than you’d ever seen them furrow, and his gaze was hard, distant,  "I need some time to think.“ The words fell out of his mouth and suddenly you were staring at his back.

"Scotty, wait…”

And he was gone.

-Thanks for reading!  I hope you liked it!-

P.S. I know I’m a tease mua ha ha

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Upside Down Tag List (let me know if you want to be tagged in the series): @whatif-animagineblog​ @secondsandstars​ @youre-on-a-starship​ @gracieminabox​ @fanscribbling​ @zaczytanka-fangirl​ @phanofmanythings​ @newhappiness430​ @pokeharvest​ @texasblues​ @space-jims​ @rampant-salamander​ @tangle-of-ivy​ @webhoard​ @happylilprompts​ @im-an-angel-of-the-lord-you-ass @supermoonpanda @kellykingkake @lurkch @ilsawasanacrobat

anonymous asked:

what was that one movie that each character watched over and over again as a child to the point that it drove their family crazy and why did they love it sooo much.

Thanks God for cute asks. I might forget a lot of movies but:

Dallas: Lord of the Rings (you all seen dis coming I bet.) He just really likes the speeches and stuff. He has good memories of watching it with his dad.. Watching it as a teenager with Malek is…. a whole different experience. He also really liked Casper the friendly ghost. The Iron Giant. Dumbo

Malek: I just think it overglorifies war yknow?
Poppy: Malek.. shut yr sjw ass up for two seconds.. did you even see the movie
Malek: HOLY SHIT DID YOU SEE THAT FREAKING DUDE MANGLED THAT OTHER GUY’S ORC BALLS WITH A FREAKING BATTLE MACE
Malek: I love Lord of the rings. So much.
Dallas: *looks into the camera like he’s in the office*

Poppy: Coming to America. It’s her dad’s favorite movie and it was her Bisexual Awakening when Dev wouldn’t shut up about how hot Lisa is. Also she likes the soundtrack it’s neat. She also liked ghostbusters and the last unicorn

Malek: Matilda. I don’t even know how to elaborate on this one. His mom really loved the movie so by extension, Malek loves it.
He also really likes Madeline and the breakfast club. Donnie Darko but he’s not sure what the movie plot means. I don’t think anyone knows. He cried a lot at A.I. but he was only 12 and his parents just di ed so.. nightmare before Christmas is a good movie. He remembers watching it while his dad went. I ate all your Halloween. Malek. Malek. Did you hear what I said. Malek why are you crying. Maybe he’d like what’s eating Gilbert Grape too

Phoebus: Star Wars and Hachi. He could remember watching Star Wars cuddled up to his grandpa on his hospital bed. It was a rainy day.

Ari: A.I. honestly the entire reason I even wrote about Ari in the first place. Just tears. Tears and a lot of phone calls to his mom in the Philippines. Tears while clinging onto Phoebus. They had to watch a Goofy Movie after that to get Ari to stop crying. Also they really like Labyrinth.

Sara: any information revealed about Sara is spoiler-y but I suppose it’s safe to say she loved a little mermaid. The Addams Family too.

Parker: Jurassic Park. You all saw this coming. If Parker had one good memory of his parents, it’s his dad making him sugar toast while he watched Jurassic Park, cuddled up to his mom as a kid.

Tyler: Land before time. Leave the boy alone he loves dinosaurs and he can remember his grandmomma singing if we hold on together in in the kitchen, baking mango and peach pie. Charlie and the Chocolate factory, too.

Blake: a weeb. He likes Spirited Away. He really enjoyed Juno as well. Watched it on his first date with Malek.

PENETRATORS SQUAD IMAGINE (pt 5)

Imagine being the first and only girl in the Penetrator Russ bus.

Author’s note: I like drama way too much for my own good hahahah here is part five guys! Sorry I let y’all waiting for too long. Now, I’m finally home and I can write as I used to. Also, please go show my beta writer Alyssa (@imyourliquor-youremypoison) some love. She is always taking time to fix my mistakes and helping me to improve. Check her fics with Chris too, because they’re incredible!! Let me know what you guys think about this part.

Part 1.

Part 4.

Part 6.

Masterlist ❁

-

Keep reading

Hope you all enjoy! xx

— — — — — — — —

I slipped my bikini bottom on, taking a quick mirror selfie in Kian’s room.

“You better not post that anywhere.” Kian said, glancing at me from the bathroom.

“It’s cute though.”

“Then take one with me.”

“Fine.”

Kian walked over an wrapped his arm around my chest and his other arm around me hip, smirking. I snapped the picture and quickly gave Kian a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll be down at the pool.” I said, opening the door, jogging down the stairs.

I walked into the kitchen, my feet padding against the tile floors echoing through the house. I pushed open the door and seen Jc, Ricky, Jack and Jack, Nash, and some other boys I didn’t recognize out there. Honestly thought Jc and Kian were done hanging out with Nash but I guess that’s me.

“Hey, (y/n)! You ready to get drunk?!” Jc smiled and brought me a fruity drink.

“Sure. Why not?” I grinned and took a seat down by the pool, sliding my legs into the water.

I posted mine and Kian’s photo into instagram, automatically getting likes. We’ve been dating for about six months now and everything is going amazing. I can’t believe he even asked me out anyways. It was actually at a party with about the same amount of people and actually some of the same people and everyone was either wasted, high, or even both. Anyways, Kian and I didn’t feel like getting intoxicated or fucked up so we started talking and now we’re here.

I looked back and seen Kian chatting along with the Jack’s whenever Jc walked over, taking a seat beside me.

“what’s up, (y/n)?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Nothin much. Chillin at the pool, getting some sun, thinking to myself.”

“Chill. So, I have something to tell you actually.”

“And that is?”

He sighed, giving me a quick hug. “It’s about Kian and before you go raising hell, wait till I finish the story.”

“Um…okay?”

“So, you remember that you and Kian met?” I nodded my head. “Well, you were the only girl that anyone was really interested in. Since half the boys heard that you were coming, they all did a bet. Anyways, Kian won the bet. So, the bet was if he can get you to date him, and if he can fuck you in the first couple of months, then he can keep you but if he can’t, he has to give you up.”

“Are you fucking serious?!”

I quickly stood up and walked over to Kian, placing my hands on my hip.

“So what’s this about me being a fucking bet?! Huh?!”

Kian’s eyes widened. “Fucking shit. What the fuck, Jc?! I told you not to tell her!”

“It doesn’t matter if Jc was suppose to tell me or not! Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? I was sitting here thinking you got some damn feelings for me but after all, you’re just another fuck boy! Fuck you, Kian! We’re over!”

I stormed past Kian, wiping away my tears so no one could see them.

“(Y/n) stop!” I ignored his voice and stormed upstairs, grabbing all my clothes out of his room. “Dude, fucking stop! I actually have feelings for you!”

“If you actually had feelings, you would’ve told me about the bet in the first place!”

I slipped on some sweats and threw on some vans high tops and jogged downstairs with Kian hot on my heels. I grabbed my keys off the table beside the door and flung the door open.

“(Y/n), please stop!”

“Leave me alone, Kian! I’m done!”

I unlocked my car and chunked my stuff in my backseat, looking back at Kian who had tears down his face. I sighed and shook my head, getting onto the front seat, backing away from everything.

— — — —

I scrolled through my instagram, sighing at mine an Kian’s photos. It’s been three months since I last saw him. I regret not talking it out but damn, what a complete dick way of being with someone. I rolled my eyes and shoved my phone in my pocket, ordering my drink from Starbucks.

“(Y/n)!”

I smiled and grabbed my drink, walking back over to my friend. I sat my drink down and quickly threw my hair up.

“How’re you doing?”

I shrugged my shoulders and took a sip of my drink. “I could be better…” I looked out the window an seen a bunch of girls piled up at American Eagle. “I miss him.” I looked back over at her, causing her to sigh.

“I know sweetie, but he pulled a complete dick move on you. You didn’t deserve that at all.”

I rubbed my forehead, “I know, I know.”

“I think it’s for the best but who knows, he might realize what he did wrong and try to get you back. Maybe this little break was the best for him, to realize if you were what he wanted.”

“Possibly.”

I looked back over an seen the girls all still over there, making me wonder who was over there.

“Wow,” she laughed, “maybe a celebrity is over there.”

“Maybe.”

I continued watching an see a tall dark haired boy walk out.

“That looks like Jc..” I mumbled, moving my face closer to the glass.“

Next thing you know, Kian walks out, taps Jc on the shoulder and points over at Starbucks.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! It’s Jc and Kian! What am I going to do?!”

“(Y/n) breathe!”

I breathed in an out, quickly covering my face when I heard the door open. I continued to look out the window, trying to keep my face hidden. My friend grabbed my hand, rubbing the back of it which calms me down. I breathed out and looked at her, taking a slow sip of my drink.

“(Y/n)?”

I looked over an seen Kian looking at me, his mouth slightly open.

“Hey Kian…”

“I’ll leave you two to it.” My friend mumbled, heading to the bathroom. Kian sat down in her chair and studied my face, furrowing his eyebrows together.

“You know,” he started, “I really did not mean for that ‘bet’ to end how it did. I already knew of you and I knew you were local and I was going to hit you up but of course, when I finally start thinking about it, there ends up being a bet about you and I was determined to win it. All I’ve been doing is thinking about you, how I could’ve changed that day that you left my house. But now, I’m here in Starbucks, spilling my all out to you. (Y/n), will you please take me back? I know you’ll be sketchy about it but I mean every word when I say that I actually do like you and I actually do want a future with you. So, whats your answer?”

I sighed, looking out the window seeing girls being pushed back and watching girls glare at me. I missed him. He obviously missed me.

“Kian, if I say yes, you have to promise me that you’ll be one hundred percent honest on everything that you do and say and you’ll answer one hundred percent honestly.”

“I promise.”

“Alright, yes, I’ll be your girlfriend again.”

Kian smiled and stood up, pulling me up into his chest. Kian engulfed me into a hug, kissing the top of my head.

“Lets take a picture.”

Kian angled his phone and snapped a picture of us.

“Hey Kian, we gotta go. What’s up (y/n)?”

“Hey Jc!”

“Alright man. Hey, come by my house later. Cool?”

I nodded my head. Kian leaned down and left a kiss on my cheek, making me blush. They both walked out onto the busy streets, leaving me there blushing.

“So I guess you two are good?”

I looked over at my friend and nodded my head. I got my boy back.

Leading Suspects - Chapter 4

Summary: When an old friend in need reaches out to Katniss, she returns to the small town she swore she’d never set foot in again. Help Madge and then leave, she decides. But a murder investigation and one sheriff with stupid blue eyes and dimples all conspire to keep her where she thought she’d never want to be.

WARNINGS: RATED E for mentions of domestic abuse, character death, mild language to include racial slurs, an obscene love affair with coffee, and explicit sexual content.

Chapters 1 and 2 have been cross posted and can now be read on AO3 and FF.net! I’ll get the rest up there in the next few days. In the meantime, Chapter 3 is still only on tumblr HERE, and chapter 4 is below the cut.

Sorry, @peetabreadgirl, this will not be completely posted by your actual birthday, but hey! That means you can continue the party for a bit longer, yeah? Enjoy!


“This is a terrible idea,” Madge says nervously as I shove aside glass bottles until I find the one I want.

“Bailey’s is never a bad idea,” I insist. “Especially not if we’re going to be drinking shitty insta-coffee. Honestly Madge, you shoulda divorced his ass just for subjecting you to that torture.”

Madge snorts and curls her feet onto the couch as I crow in triumph and pull the still sealed bottle from the back of the generously stocked bar. She holds up both mugs of coffee for me to add a generous amount of Bailey’s to each. Setting the bottle on the coffee table, I accept my mug from her.

“Besides, when have I ever had a bad idea?” I ask and sigh at the first sip of what is more Bailey’s than coffee concoction.

Keep reading

In the Good Ol’ Suppertime

Parts One and Two
by kyaada

For weeks, my roommate had been reminding me that we needed to have Marcie and her husband Jonathan over for dinner in thanks for their help our move in May.  In my mind, I could still see fresh images of Jonathan’s recently ex-military hunky build: his wide shoulders, his thick chest and nearly breast-like pecs, his tight bubblebutt, his meaty calves, and his sweet young face.  The beginnings of a round belly hinted at holding his tee shirt out in front, but overall he seemed to be on the textbook low-fat, lean and mean end of the scales of beefiness.  Jonathan’s strength was awesome; I watched in silent admiration as he packed unwieldy items down the stairs and into the big truck with unfettered grace.

Planning the menu for the dinner and then preparing the various treats had become almost a weeklong project.  Timing had ended up being fairly awkward, as the date for the event had been set for the evening right after Halloween night.  Nonetheless, our preparations fell right into place and we were breathing a sigh of relief that Saturday afternoon as appetizers, entrees, desserts, and drinks were flawlessly staged for that evening.  My roommate had made a point of consulting our most elaborate cookbooks, as Marcie was quite an accomplished at-home chef; we didn’t want to disappoint and preferred to impress at this point.

I was just arranging the bowls of honey-roasted peanuts and smokehouse almonds on the kitchen counter when the doorbell rang.  Following my roommate to the front door, I tried to appear attentive through a triple-Scotch-induced fog.  When the door swung open and I saw Jonathan standing confidently behind Marcie, I tried not to let my reaction be too noticeable; although I’m sure they didn’t miss my eyes widening to the size of cup saucers.

As he passed the door threshold and made his way towards me to offer a friendly handshake, I trembled at the sight of his even beefier ex-military status.  Of course, my memory was faithful to his big and meaty parts, but even the most casual of acquaintances couldn’t miss the distinct plump look of those big and meaty parts.  As I took his hand in mine, I couldn’t help but stare down at his commendably fattened and rounded belly as it perched itself over a torturously tight pair of Levi denim shorts.  He wore a burgundy red stretch-knit shortsleeved shirt that spared relatively few details; his sensual bumps, bulges, and nipple peaks were all artfully displayed.

“Hello, Jonathan, good to see you.”  I said, trying to calm my elation.

“Thanks.  Good to see you, too.”

As Marcie and my roommate went off to do some looking around the house, I led Jonathan into the kitchen where I teased him with a big jar of Halloween chocolates.  

“Oh, thanks, but hmmm…” Jonathan thought, with his hand going to the side of his belly, “I think I ate about five pounds of candy this week, and probably gained at least that much weight.  I was cursing these shorts earlier today trying to get them buttoned…”  Jonathan pointed out as he smacked his fat round belly.  His belly seemed to bounce with incredible precision, showing me the perfect balance of size, firmness, and fatness.

“Well, I’m sure they just shrunk a little bit in the wash, Jonathan.”

Jonathan smiled confidently that he had a more truthful explanation. “Hot water and a hot dryer cycle may be to blame for a tighter waistband in some situations, but I think too much beer and food is more the culprit in my case.”

Still feeling the effects of my Scotch, I offered “I thought I noticed something different about you when you walked in.  You *have* gained a little weight since the last time we saw each other, haven’t you?”  I started to walk around the kitchen counter to the liquor cabinet.

“Oh, you’re being too polite, Brian.  My belly is getting pretty hard to miss.”  Jonathan reached under the thick belly roll that scrunched down the tight waistband.  "It took me more than a couple tries to get these damn shorts buttoned this morning, and I still feel like a very full tick in them.  Hey, you got any beer?“

"Of course!  I knew you were coming.  It’s in the fridge.”  

Jonathan served himself while I finished my retrieval of the Scotch bottle.  He’d been nibbling from the bowls of nuts, but began feverishly digging in them in an apparent quest to devour them all.  I put out a big bowl of chips with a party-size dose of salsa, and he dove into that as well.  Marcie and my roommate had returned from their house tour, and Marcie joined Jonathan in the kitchen.  He had nearly finished his first beer when she leaned into his back and wrapped her arms around him from behind.  My cock poised itself for immediate erection as her hands carefully massaged his big pecs and then lazily traveled south to his plump round belly.  Marcie continued her massage on each side of Jonathan’s stout middle, and then paused to try to grab a handful of well-developed belly on each side.  

“Honey, maybe you were diving too deep in the candy dish this week?”  She softly asked in his ear.

“Maybe so,” Jonathan admitted, “but that was an awfully big bag of candy we got at Costco.”

The lighthearted discussion continued as Jonathan got a second beer and stepped up his assault on the snack bowls.  I didn’t want it to end, but the casserole was announcing its imminent debut from the oven.

“Are you guys ready to eat?”  My roommate asked.

Jonathan easily cracked a smile as he languidly dragged his strong hand across the width of his fat belly and assured her “oh yeah, I’m always ready to eat.”

Although I had argued earlier with my roommate about the quantity of food we had prepared, thinking that there were too many dishes and simply too much of each, I was now very thankful for the Herculean portions loading up the dining room table.  Jonathan looked hungry, and he didn’t need any coaxing to start.

“Boy, does this look *good*!” Jonathan excitedly proclaimed, serving himself an enormous square of chile releno casserole.  "You guys are going to need a forklift to get me outta here!“

Laughter arose from the table at Jonathan’s comments, but there was an element of truth in his statement; I could see big things in his very near future by the way he mercilessly stuffed a tortilla full of steak fajita mixture from a giant bowl.  By the time Jonathan added beans, rice, and guacamole to his plate with the rest, there wasn’t space available for a molecule more.  Marcie did most of the talking at the table as Jonathan hungrily shoveled food, I watched Jonathan, and my roommate paid attention to Marcie. Jonathan looked up at me occasionally and batted his lusciously long eyelashes.  He was always busy chewing, so he didn’t have much opportunity or inclination to respond to any of Marcie’s rambling discussion.

"Jonathan here hasn’t seen the inside of a gym for quite a while now.”

My roommate spoke up in response, “he looks pretty good, though.”

“Solid,” I noted, staring at Jonathan’s quickly burgeoning stomach.  

“Yeah, he’s getting so *solid* that he’s having trouble bending over to tie his shoes.”  Marcie commented, looking to her right at Jonathan’s midsection.  "We went to Bogey’s Pizza Parlor the other night…“

"Marcie,” Jonathan interrupted, “we weren’t going to bring that up again, remember?”

“Oh, these are our friends– it’s OK, isn’t it?”

Jonathan hesitated after pushing in a heaped forkful of cheese-laden casserole, “…well… sure, I suppose.”

“I’m pretty sure that Jonathan has forgotten anymore when he’s supposed to stop eating.  It was all-you-can-eat night, and you know how good their pizza is, and, well, Jonathan overdid it a little bit.”

Jonathan listened shallowly as he asked for more casserole.  Since it was so rich, I was at first amazed he wanted more; nonetheless, I passed him the serving spoon and he carved out another person-and-a-half-sized portion and dumped it on his recently cleaned plate.

“So, after Jonathan finished gorging himself on ample portions of everything, we got up to leave.  Well, Jonathan was wearing one of his old pairs of khaki shorts from when he was in the Service, and they were painted on him like a second skin. Anyway, he drops his credit card at the register counter, leans down to pick it up– I still don’t know how he was able to bend in the middle– and *rips* the back seam open on his shorts!” Marcie took another sip of her drink.

Reserved laughter seconded Marcie’s spirited guffaw, and Jonathan smiled sheepishly as he packed two more tortillas full of steak fajita mixture and guacamole.  He straightened his back a little in his chair, making the oak creak a bit. Jonathan’s belly had respectably grown in size during his unrestrained indulgence, and he relaxed his abdominal muscles enough to facilitate an impressive rounding of his belly region. The soft cotton of his shirt stretched more to further highlight his swelling bulge.  Before he dug back in, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his belly from side-to-side.  "You guys– this is so delicious.  I love that casserole.“

"Brian made that,” my roommate quickly credited.

“It’s got the most incredible flavor.  I love the texture too.  It just slides down.”

“Well, there’s plenty more, Jonathan,” I pointed out, realizing that he had eaten as much as three of us had, “help yourself!”

“Oh, I will!”

As dinner stretched on into the evening, Jonathan’s belly stretched right along with it;  should someone had been bold enough to slip a tape measure around the ex-military hunk’s midsection, they would have been delighted to find the measurement inching larger and larger, keeping pace with the vacuum rate of Jonathan’s hungry mouth. Jonathan had dared eat a third gigantic helping of casserole, along with a total of five pregnant fajitas, along with king-size portions of beans, rice, and guacamole, and all of it chased down his well-exercised gullet by four ice-cold bottles of beer.  Long after everyone else was satisfied and sitting around waiting for a coffee or a bite of dessert, Jonathan was just then finishing his latest plateful and leaning back in his chair to offer a raucous belch from deep underneath his massive meal.  Jonathan’s belly had blown up into an incredibly pumped and handsome balloon, offering a wide ledge under his juicy pecs.  From just sitting across the table from him, I could tell he was blissfully heavy; Jonathan’s belly was impressively swollen, yet there was a sense that he was tortured by the decision of whether or not to indulge himself in another round of helpings.

Marcie turned again to the right to look him over carefully.  She reached her hand over and firmly patted his belly.  "See, you guys?  Solid.“

"Wow, that was great.”  Jonathan said, putting his right hand on top of his protruding belly.

“There’s still some more left, Jonathan, help yourself!” I teased, not sure if he’d go for more or not.

“Oh, believe me, I’d love to,” Jonathan covered his mouth in response to a hearty belch, “but my belly is really s-t-u-f-f-f-f-f-f-f-e-d.”

“I take it that we’ll wait a bit to offer you two some dessert and coffee?” my roommate asked.

“That sounds like a fantastic idea.”

Marcie spoke up, “well, let’s let these guys take care of the dishes…”  And with that, she and my roommate were off again to her office, leaving the very-bloated Jonathan unattended with me across the table lusting after his incredibly beefed-up, plumped-up form.

“That’s it…I gotta stand up for a while, guy.” Jonathan told me, as he struggled to push his chair away from the table.  "My butt is gettin’ tired from sittin’.“  

"Should I run and go get the forklift?”

Jonathan gave up a pleased laugh and shook his head.  He’d been put in the corner chair by the big houseplant, so he had precious little space in which to wield his chunkier form around. When he stood up straight, it was blatantly obvious that he’d totally overindulged his increased appetite and overeaten to the very definition of excess.  When he reached down to grab his plate, I quickly let him know to take it easy, and that I would take care of the dishes.

Jonathan lazily lumbered out of the dining room and headed for the kitchen. His giant round swollen belly loomed out distantly over his now excruciatingly tight Levi shorts, and his burgundy red stretchknit shirt tried its best to cover the increased region of overindulgence.  He sauntered about with his wide shoulders back, letting his heavy full belly extend as far as it wanted over his taut waistband.  I watched his exaggerated movements as I continued to clear the table. Finally, Jonathan felt guilted enough to help carry in a plate as I stood at the sink spraying them off for the dishwasher.  He came up behind me and sat the plate down to my right as he leaned his solid round gut into the back of my elbow.  

“My gut feels pregnant, dude.”  Jonathan said in a proud, unwavering voice as he continued to push against my elbow.  “Like 11 months pregnant from that deee-lic-ious dinner…”

Not wasting any time, I pushed back with my elbow into his firm round belly.  Jonathan pushed against me more, almost knocking me into the sink; he grabbed my shoulders to put me steady back on my feet.  "Whoa,“ he said, and pulled me back toward him, "didn’t mean to knock you over.”

I turned around and took the chance to thump his belly more than a couple times.  "Jonathan, I’m really glad you enjoyed the dinner.  *Really* enjoyed the dinner,“ I emphasized, liberally surveying the surface region of his big belly.  

"Well, I sure did enjoy it.  I really wanted to eat more, but my belly got so maxed out that I thought for sure it’d bust if I stuffed anymore in it.  I tell ya, there really are times when I wish my gut was bigger, even though Marcie bitches about it.”  He relaxed a bit as I continued to rub his belly.  I poked him right in the fattest part, and he grunted.  "I suppose I do resemble the Pop'n Fresh Doughboy right now.“

"Only on a much larger, more well-fed, vastly more pregnant scale, Jonathan.”  We both laughed.  “Taller, too. Taller than that short little doughboy. How tall are you, Jonathan?”

“Six-foot-two, dude.  And unlike my weight, that number doesn’t continue to grow.  I think I’ve porked up to about 235 now; I don’t really know. It’s such an extra effort to get on that ol’ bathroom scale.”

Jonathan swaggered over to the fridge and helped himself to another beer. He guzzled cold brew as I toiled with the dishes.

“You know, Brian,” he started, “a guy can’t have a gut like this in the Service.  They legislate your *weight* in that stuff– it sucks!!  I remember being in this remote post way up by the Arctic Circle with one other guy and an entire roomful of rations.  I tell ya, it didn’t take long for the boredom of the thing to set in, and we were spending most of our time eating.  The post was really small, and there was literally no room to exercise.  All we did was eat, sleep, sit in our chairs, and make trips to the latrine.” Jonathan wetted his voice with another swig of beer.  "It wasn’t long before we were both getting fat, resorting to eating contests for entertainment.“

"Jeez, how long were you there?”

“Long enough to fatten up pretty good.  My CO made me lose 40 pounds when I got back.  He was pretty upset with the fact that I had a gut– not even as big as it is now– and that my uniform wouldn’t button in the front. Oh well, I lost the weight and he got off my case.”

“I bet you’re happy you don’t have that to deal with anymore, huh?”

“Well, some parts of it I miss.  But tonight, I wouldn’t trade this *big* bellyful of *great* food for *anything*…”  With that comment, Jonathan slugged down the rest of his beer, belched, and slapped his belly.

“Did you want to see what’s for dessert?”  I asked.

“Sure!”

I unveiled a chocolate cake that was richer than a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon, and Jonathan’s eyes widened with interest.  Cracking the freezer door open, I pointed to the quart of vanilla Haagen Dazs that sat innocently on the top shelf.  Jonathan licked his lips and made a deep “mmmmm” sound. Since I’d drawn his attention in that direction, he looked up and saw a box of Entemann’s “Pop'ems” on top of the fridge.  

“What are those, Brian?”  Jonathan asked with drooling interest.

“Oh, they’re really good.  Chocolate-coated donut holes.”

“I love donuts.”

“Funny, I never would have thought that you did.”  We both laughed at the fun-intended sarcasm; I grabbed the box of Pop'ems and started to open it.

“So, why do they call them Pop'ems?”

I opened up the box, grabbed one of the bite-size treats, and shoved it into Jonathan’s mouth.  "Because you pop ‘em in your mouth.“  I smiled as Jonathan chewed, returning the smile.

"So, Marcie was telling me something about you having a doll collection or something?”

A little surprised at the change of subject, I stammered, “well, something like that.”

“Where is it?  I would like to see it.”

“Well, it’s in my bedroom.”

“OK, lead the way.”  Jonathan told me, devouring another Pop'em.  He brought the box with him into my bedroom.

He stood there looking at my collection of Kens, chewing constantly due to the steady stream of Pop'ems.  He looked like Pac Man on an energy pellet binge.  "You know,“ he started, "they should make a doll that’s more like real life.  I mean, how many guys look like that…well, I guess I used to a bit—but I always had bigger bulges in my chest and crotch.  But eventually they discover there’s more to life than flat-abs and three-hour workouts.”

I opened up my closet door and grabbed one of my Oliver Hardy collector dolls to show him.  "Now, this is more like it.  Look at the shape of that gut– nice, *big* one.  Look at the way that it pops out of that too-small suit coat.  I like it.“

"So do I,” I assured Jonathan, “that’s why I bought it.”

He popped another donut treat in his mouth and looked at me.  

“Check this out.”  I reached up to the top shelf of my closet and produced a “Weekend Sportsman Bank”.  The bank accurately represented a beer-and-pizza-fed, well-paunched couch-potato “weekend sportsman” who wore too-small shorts and buttoned shirt that allowed his burgeoning paunch to hang out bare.  I explained how his belly grew bigger and bigger as the lucky saver shoved more coins down his plastic gullet, and showed Jonathan the span of which the little guy’s belly was capable of growing.

“That’s so cool,” Jonathan said, eating another Pop'em.

“Yeah, but there’s a limit to how big this little guy is going to get.  I mean, there comes a time when his gut is as full of coins as it can possibly get.” I sat the bank down on my dresser. “Not like the real thing,” I said, sticking my finger into Jonathan’s firm round belly, “not like the real thing that eventually stretches and lets more in…and then keeps on growing bigger and bigger and…”

“Bigger!”  Jonathan took another enthusiastic bite, then sat down on the edge of my bed, sat the box of Pop'ems down at his side, and flopped himself backwards onto the mattress. He slid farther onto the bed and let his chunky legs dangle a bit over the edge.  Jonathan’s very round belly towered into the air like the lava-pregnant dome on an erupting volcano.  He relaxed his muscular arms out from his sides and took in a deep breath.

I couldn’t control myself any longer, so I nudged myself closer and rested my hand on his fat round bellyball.  Gently I rocked his big swollen mound from side-to-side, listening for the satisfied slosh of its long list of contents.  "And so, Jonathan, how’s this belly bank doing?“

"Deposits are up, and the amount of interest seems to be increasing. A lot of room left to grow.” He went to reach for a Pop'em, and I grabbed one before he did.  Our eyes met for a minute, and I accepted his unspoken invitation to pop it into his mouth. Putting another in his mouth, I then grabbed the Bellybank from the dresser and lifted up its shirt to show Jonathan.  To my delight, Jonathan did the same with his taut shirt, baring the literally full expanse of studbelly.  I popped another donut treat in his mouth and then rubbed his tall round belly in wide circles.  Putting my open hand onto where his solid gut emerged from his too-tight denim shorts, I shook him a little from top-to-bottom, while eyeing the incredibly stressed pants button.  

“Wow, Jonathan.  How can you stand these shorts?  They have got to be cutting off your circulation.”

“Yeah, they are pretty damn tight.”  As I propelled another miniature donut bellybomb into his mouth, he grunted his way to popping open his top jeans button.  He smacked his belly as it took advantage of the sorely-needed open space, “ahhhhh yeah– that’s the stuff…er…stuffing!”

“Having a good time, Jonathan?”

“The best.  Talk about good stuffing.”

“And speaking of good stuffing– just think– it’s only three weeks until Thanksgiving.”

“Definitely.  'Tis the season to get enormously fat.  This year I’m not holding back for anything or anybody.  I’m going to stuff, and I’ll stuff, and I’ll stuff myself until my belly bus-s-s-s-sts itself wide open– should take a long, long time.” Jonathan chuckled.  I poked another Pop'em into his mouth and he chewed slowly.  "Jeez, are you going to feed me that whole box?“

I lifted up the box and showed him the empty white space: "Just did,” I said.   I reached over and thumped his belly; gently I broke into a rubbing exercise. “Wow, feel all of those little bellybombs in there.  Pretty *solid* again, guy.  Ready for some coffee and dessert?”

“Sure thing, Brian.  I’m looking forward to it!”

Jonathan pulled his shirt back down to cover his bare expanse of impressively prominent belly, appearing to enjoy the fact that his top shorts button had been blown wide open to sport a “V”-shaped gap in his sinfully tight waistband.  Jonathan’s substantial ballbelly offered an interesting dimension into his languid gait back to the kitchen, and I watched from behind as he swung his arms out wide from his sides.  Marcie and my roommate were watching some movie out in the family room as Jonathan and I rounded the corner.  Jonathan helped himself to the fridge again and this time poured himself a glass of milk.

“Thirsty,” he said.

Then, like she had done earlier, Marcie made her way into the kitchen and stood behind her man again.  Like she had done earlier, she concentrated her attentions on Jonathan’s middle section, although she really had to reach for the very front of him. I watched her hand slowly descend over the bowed circumference of his bloated belly, and then slyly disappear under where his shirt hem dangled in front.  "Well, honey,“ Marcie began cautiously, as she picked her hand up and sat it back down with a thump on the very center of Jonathan’s distended belly, "you really enjoyed your dinner tonight, huh?”

“Oh yeahhhh,” Jonathan assured everyone, letting Marcie continue to enjoy thumping his belly.

“Honey, honey…you’re going to be heading into the holiday season this year with an ample advantage!”  Marcie told her chubby hubby.  "I better plan the menus and pace the treats out right, otherwise you’re going to become a very juicy guy by New Year’s.“

Jonathan groaned a bit at the thought of his food supply dwindling during one of his favorite times of the year, and tried to suck in his belly while Marcie continued to survey its size with concern.  Jonathan’s belly was simply too full to budge in any direction of thinner, so he just let it swell out as big as it needed while he relaxed. "Sure, honey,” he said, winking at me.

Without much more delay, I offered Jonathan a more-than-generous piece of rich chocolate cake and sidecar bowl of ice cream.  Dreading getting back into his chair at the dining room table, he sat on a stool in front of the kitchen counter.  He sat so that his belly hung out and swelled distantly over his taut shorts.  Marcie seemed to get more stressed as Jonathan enjoyed his dessert, and cut me off when I offered him more.

“We hate to eat and run, but we’d better get going,” Marcie quickly offered.  

Jonathan looked disappointed, as I’m sure he wanted another piece of cake.  So, I packaged up half of the cake for them to take home with them.  As they left, Jonathan patted his enormous round belly, belched, and said, “let’s do this again.”

I agreed, and then watched as he waddled his way out to their car.

People get busy, and the weeks sped by.  What Marcie neglected to mention at that October dinner was that she and Jonathan were expecting a baby.   The holidays passed, and I was disappointed that I didn’t get to see Jonathan, but I knew that he and Marcie were busy with all sorts of family activities. Both sets of parents lived in the Bay Area, and I was sure that it was a very get-together intensive season.  It wasn’t until mid-January that my roommate and I were able to schedule something with them.

“Let’s meet at the restaurant on Friday night around 7:30, ok?” was what I overheard my roommate say on the phone to Marcie.

I felt a crisp wave of anticipation come over me, inspiring significantly increased bloodflow as mental pictures of Jonathan played in my mind like a sublime slide show of delight.  “Great!” I blurted out, startling my roommate.  

“Wow, you really like seeing Marcie and Jonathan…”

“Yes, my favorite people,” I offered as mostly truth, but keeping private that Jonathan was fast becoming my main obsession.

Like all eagerly anticipated things, the dinner at Galliano’s did not come without my usual hunger-stifling jitters.  I ordered a glass of Merlot to settle my nerves as we waited for Marcie and her hunky hubby to arrive; we were there a bit early to get a good table as it was one of their busiest nights.  Strategically seating myself with a panoramic view of the door and most of the restaurant, I sipped Merlot and tried to get my nerves and erection under control.

Then, like an opening act taking the concert stage, Marcie appeared in the doorway; I felt my blood pressure rise in now feverish-hot anticipation of the headliner sure to arrive next.  I swear I could hear the roar of the crowd as Jonathan appeared several people behind Marcie, but I’m sure it was just my pounding heart and the blood rushing in my veins.  A smile curved onto his slightly chubbier, freshly goateed face as he saw us at the table in the corner.  Marcie led the way, her pregnant belly showing her obvious child-bearing status; Jonathan trailed behind, adopting a manly swagger around his own pregnant belly status—bigger than he’d been in January, and certainly bigger than Marcie.

My roommate and I stood as they reached our table, and I offered a hearty handshake to Jonathan as he shifted over to choose the seat directly across from me.  Instinctively, my eyes quickly traveled up and down the six-feet-plus-two-inches of Jonathan’s superlatively well-fed frame.   As I shook his big soft hand, I felt my cheeks getting red as my gaze glued onto his fat round belly, succulently juiced-up pecs, and budding lovehandles all encased by a very stretched golf-print pullover shirt.  Jonathan had gotten more swaybacked, and his impressive rotund gut jutted over the taut waistband of his khaki-colored Dockers that fretted to contain his more thickly-padded thighs and bubble butt. His eyes followed my gaze down to his pooched-out middle as the smile broadened on his face.  His free hand slapped under his solid fat protrusion before his surveying ended up in a hypnotic back-and-forth rubbing on his firm overhang.

Jonathan laughed, “Brian, I suppose you’re wondering which one of us is pregnant, huh?”

Marcie joined in the laughter, followed by my roommate and I. She looked over at Jonathan’s fat round belly that dwarfed her 5-month pregnancy, placed her hand on top his solid beach ball, and said, “Jonathan is doing a great job of growing an empathy belly here, but there’s no doubt that I’m the one that will be popping in May.”

We took our seats, and picked up the menus that the waitress had left before. Jonathan’s mind seemed to wander as he kept looking over his menu at me. “Boy, am I hungry.  My stomach is like totally empty.”

Marcie chuckled.  “Sure, Jonathan.  Make it sound like I’ve been neglecting and starving you all day.  I seem to remember hearing about a certain young man’s pants coming open after an overly generous lunch I packed for you today.”

“Oh, that was bound to happen.  These pants are just too small for me, and you know it.”

“Well, all of your clothes seem to be too small and hard-to-button after that bountiful holiday season we had.”

“True,” Jonathan agreed with a confident smile returning to his face. “Silly to complain, though.  I have a lot to be thankful for…”

“…and I think you had more-than-ample occasion to give thanks for all of those things on Thanksgiving,” Marcie interrupted.

Jonathan’s expression melted into memories of past satisfaction, and he leaned back in his chair while running his hand down the front of his plump meaty paunch.  The waitress appeared and readied herself to gather our dinner orders; she took Jonathan’s order last.  Jonathan kind of surprised everyone by ordering not one, but two, large entrées. My heart gave into palpitation, as I knew that one of Galliano’s entrées was enough to pack an above-average stomach to blissfully stretched fullness, but two?  After Jonathan had ordered his beer, he looked at me, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “guess I’m a bit on the hungry side tonight.”

“So, you had a pleasant Thanksgiving, Jonathan?”  I probed.

“God, yeah.  We had back-to-back dinners that day.  Even though we were supposed to go to both of our parents’ houses for dinner, Marcie insisted on making a big ol’ turkey dinner herself for just us.”

“Honey, it’s just not Thanksgiving unless you get to cook!” Marcie interjected.  

“Oh, I know—the chef’s speaking now,” Jonathan chuckled, patting Marcie’s shoulder.

Our drinks arrived, and Jonathan didn’t waste time in grabbing his bottle and pouring a cold glassful for himself to savor.  After a lengthy satisfying swig, he continued with his anecdote of Thanksgiving conquest.

“I still don’t know how I was able to eat all of that food,” Jonathan reflected, rubbing his belly absentmindedly, “but you know how when you’re blowing up a balloon, you keep puffing more air into it, feeling it stretch tighter and tighter, until his elasticity is almost gone…”

Marcie’s head snapped toward her chunky husband as she blurted, “did you realize you just said ‘his’ and not ‘its’…?”

Jonathan’s face got a little red as a nervous chuckle bubbled out of him, “uh, um, I meant its elasticity is almost gone, and it becomes increasingly more difficult to blow more air into it as you suspect it’s about to burst?”

My erection throbbed as I stammered, “yes.”  

“Well, I don’t even know for sure how many times my belly felt that way on Thanksgiving.”

“It’s true,” Marcie said, watching as the waitress delivered four salads with a soup for Jonathan.  The well-fed hubby began to devour salad and soup on top of the basket of hot fresh bread and creamery butter already in his belly.  “We were at my parents’ house last, and this poor guy had

been gorging himself non-stop all day long.  He was so bloated and heavy that he made an easy target for my mother’s relentless offer of ‘just a little more, Jonathan?’”

Jonathan belched conservatively and excused himself; he listened to Marcie prattle on, but couldn’t be distracted too long from his dwindling pile of salad and hearty bowl of clam chowder.   “Yeah, your mom was bound and determined on getting rid of all that pie she had baked.  Said she didn’t want it around because she was on a diet or something—your dad seemed a little disappointed.”

“So, it’s 10:30 at night, and Jonathan is still sitting at the table, and my mom is still feeding him pie.  I keep telling mom that his belly must be getting pretty full by that point, and she offers her opinion that she doesn’t think his big belly is ever going to get full.  You should have seen this sight, but I took pictures—there’s Jonathan leaned back in his chair, his belly swollen into a rock-solid sphere, and he barely able to breathe.”

“And I wanted more, I tell you,” Jonathan offered.  His face brightened as the waitress appeared to clear our dishes and return shortly with our entrées.  

“Would you like your lasagna with your raviolis, or later, sir?” the waitress asked Jonathan.  

“A little later, thank you.”  

“Another beer?”  

“Absolutely.”

An erotic silence fell over the table as we began to eat our dinners. Jonathan seemed to relish the generously stuffed homemade pasta, and devoured each morsel in one bite where the less initiated might have cut them in two with their fork.  

My attention was diverted from Jonathan as a six-foot delight emerged from the kitchen area.  Standing at the counter for a moment wrestling off his sauce-splattered green apron, he adjusted his skin-tight pink tank top after handing his apron to a passing waitress.  Even from a distance, I could see that his extra-stuffed black Levi’s rode open one button under his hefty round fat belly; the tanned rotund belly pooched out firmly– escaping from under the hem of his taut tank top.   I wasn’t sure if he was returning my stare or gazing at Jonathan’s grazing as he passed our table in a very self-assured saunter.  

Jonathan caught the handsome dark-haired Italian chunk as he brushed past our table on his way to the restroom.  “Wow…I think that was Vince Galliano.”  Jonathan watched the rounded ass disappear into the restroom area, and then cleaned up his ample portion of raviolis.  The attentive waitress seemed to be there in a blink of an eye, and she offered to take his plate and bring his lasagna; the offer was accepted without hesitation.

The chunky Italian reappeared from the restroom, and made his way over to our table.  Jonathan leaned back and held out his hand, “Vince?  Vince Galliano?”

“Yep.  Jonathan?”

The two smiled and enthusiastically shook hands, giving each other the once, then twice-over.  “Vince, boy, you’ve gotten big there!  Jeans don’t even button!”  Jonathan reached over and thumped the fat round belly that jutted over the border of our table space.  Vince chuckled, put his hands on his belly and sensuously shook it with unmistakable pride.

“Yeah, Jonathan.  I’m growing into my job as cook at mom ‘n dad’s restaurant.”  Then Vince turned his attention to his pal that sat before him. Thumping Jonathan’s beefy round belly with apparent satisfaction, he noted, “and you’ve done pretty good yourself there, Jonathan.”

Jonathan gave a confident chuckle, “you bet your butter rolls, guy. I’m here tonight taking full advantage of your good cooking.”

“That’s great.  Believe me, you can see the results of taking advantage of my good cooking and my nona’s recipes.”  Vince put his hand under this firm round overhang near his open jeans button, gently bouncing his plump middle up and down.  “So far, this is only a one-button night, but my special tonight is so good that I think I’m going to end up with a very nice, big, full belly over two-button open comfort by closing tonight…”

“Your special?”  Jonathan asked as the waitress deposited the boat-shaped dish of lasagna in front of him.

“Big juicy tiger prawns, mushrooms, and this wonderful creamy garlic butter sauce over linguine.”  Vince actually salivated at the mere mention of the dish, and Jonathan followed suit. “Delicious.”

Jonathan took a cooled bite of lasagna and commented, “wow, wish I would have known about that before I ordered.”

“Aaaah, don’t worry about it.”  Vince patted Jonathan’s shoulder.  “Damn, good to see you again, guy.”

“You too.”  Jonathan shook his Italian friend’s hand again before getting back to business on entrée number two.

I watched as Vince’s well-padded ass wiggled into the kitchen, and then Jonathan as he began to shovel pasta with renewed energy. Jonathan’s belly had swollen considerably by mid-lasagna, and the seams on his pullover shirt were really starting to pucker.  Marcie’s attention became diverted from her conversation with my roommate and she reached over and patted her husband’s spherical belly.  Jonathan offered up a fairly satisfied belch, and then leaned back to allow his wife to survey the breadth of his bloated mound of belly.

“Honey, I can’t finish my veal parmesan, and I don’t want to take home any leftovers.  There really isn’t much left, would you mind being a dear and finishing it off for me?”

“Sure.  Just a minute.”  Jonathan shoved a large finale bite of lasagna into his mouth, and traded plates with her.  

My cannelloni had gone pretty much neglected as I was a bit distracted from my own hunger; one of the tasty pasta tubes was gone, but there remained a second.  As I sat mesmerized by Jonathan’s seemingly bottomless pit and the quick evaporation of Marcie’s leftovers, I considered offering him the rest of my dinner.  Jonathan leaned back in his chair, reaching his muscular arms towards the ceiling.  The stretching exercise seemed to only increase his very swollen abdomen from top to bottom; the taut hem of his golf-print pullover shirt edged up the circumference to bare a nice portion of very well-fed bulge.  Jonathan’s deep exhaling caused a breeze felt across the table, and a loud belch followed it.  “Well, well, well,” Jonathan acknowledged, “my big ol’ belly must be getting full!”

“Damn,” I said, attracting Jonathan’s immediate attention, “and I was hoping you would help me with this cannelloni.  I just can’t eat any more, Jonathan.  Can you?”

“Sure.”  Jonathan smiled as we traded plates.  “I think this big ol’ balloon of mine has some stretch in it yet…”

Marcie nodded her head in support.  “I agreed that Jonathan can put off his dieting until after the baby is born. I couldn’t stand to watch his sad handsome face while I ate whatever the baby and I wanted; it was cruel and unusual punishment for such a nice guy.”

Jonathan grunted over my donated cannelloni.  “Plus, I have an advantage over Deb.  I don’t have a baby growing and taking up space in my pregnant belly.”

Marcie reached over and rubbed Jonathan’s immensely rotund gut, “nope honey, you have one hundred percent stomach to fill.”

“Some nights, more like 110%, huh, Jonathan?”  I quipped.

“Yeah, like tonight.  Ooo-ooo-oo-ffff-ffff!  Push me away from the trough and plug my pie-hole.  I think my belly is at maximum bloat.  My stomach feels like an overpumped basketball in there.“ Jonathan actually pushed away the last bite of cannelloni and relaxed into a reclined position richly deserved.

Just as Jonathan began rubbing his hugely stuffed gut, I saw Vince emerge from the kitchen again; this time, the hot Italian was without his apron, and there were sauce dribbles on his pink tank top.  Vince’s incredibly swollen round gut wobbled in front of him, solidly protruding over tight black jeans that were now burst open two buttons.  More bare tanned belly was sticking out under the rolled-up tank top, and Vince was truly amazing to see.  In his hand, he carried a vast plateful of pasta and giant prawns.    

Jonathan could scarcely move from his laid-back position, but struggled to acknowledge Vince’s appearance at our table as the generous stud offered yet more food.  Vince moved the mostly vacant cannelloni plate and sat the heap of Friday night special in front of Jonathan.  

“Whoa, dude…I thought you should try my special, but signs point to your belly making a loud pop noise if you swallow one more morsel.”

Jonathan nodded his head, but his eyes were all over Vince’s protruding round belly.  “You’re lookin’ pretty gorged there yourself, Vince.  Take pretty hefty advantage of your cooking tonight?”  

Vince smiled broadly as he patted his big full belly.  “More than usual, even.  I feel like just taking the rest of the night off…grabbing a king-size plate of tiramisu and a fork and going off in a corner…eating until I can’t move…”  Jonathan burped, practically begging for Vince’s anticipated response of thumping ex-military stud’s solid porked-up belly; Vince responded with a few well-placed thumps on Jonathan’s stout middle.  “Boy, Jonathan, I think you really enjoyed your meal, well, meals tonight.  But no dinner is complete without dessert. Please let me treat you and your tablemates to a nice dessert.”

Vince asked the waitress to put the mound of special in a to-go box as he waddled off to fetch us all dessert.  I looked over at Jonathan, who now languidly scratched the front of his fat prominent belly.   “Got an itch?”  I asked.

“Yeah, heh,” Jonathan began, “when the skin on my belly gets stretched this tight, it itches.”  Marcie reached over and scratched her over-fed hubby’s belly as he relaxed it for her to get good coverage.  

“Poor Jonathan,” she said, looking over at me, “his belly skin is stretched so tight around his big dinner that he feels like one of those over-blown balloons he was talking about earlier.  I best rub him a little to see if I can loosen him up a bit for when his friend brings back that dessert.”  Jonathan’s eyes glazed over as her outstretched fingers traversed his colossal round belly.  His erect nipples were evident through his taut pullover shirt, which essentially wore like sausage casing at that point.  “How’s that feel, my big ol’ pregnant guy?”  It wasn’t necessary for him to answer, since drool accumulated and dripped from a corner of his slightly open mouth as evidence of his pleasure.  

Vince returned with a large tray of amazing goodies, and sat it on an empty table across from ours.  “That’s the stuff, huh, guy?”  Vince commented, watching Marcie rub Jonathan’s solid protrusion in unrestrained circles.  “Big full belly and a nice bellyrub to go along with it.   Well, get him ready, Marcie, look what I brought!”

Vince began transferring plates and bowls to the table.  A giant chunk of pound cake with stacks of strawberries and fresh whipped cream.  An immense piece of chocolate-on-chocolate cake.  A gargantuan piece of tiramisu.  A tub of hot fudge sundae, replete with nuts and several maraschino cherries.  Vince stood back and admired what he had created, “now, if that doesn’t fatten your belly, Jonathan, I don’t know what will!!”

“Hell, Vince, if my belly gets any fatter tonight, you’re gonna have to help roll me out of here.”

“Don’t sweat it, big guy, just relax and enjoy.  This good stuff just slides down your gullet.  You won’t even feel it.”

With that, Vince wobbled off, surely back to the kitchen to indulge in a bit of dessert himself from the way he smacked his lips at the sight of our calorie-laden table.  Jonathan had received the pound cake, and wanted to trade with me right away; his desires seemed to be focused on Galliano’s famous tiramisu.  And focus he did.  He focused his way through the entire sweet plateful, groaning as his belly pumped up into an even more gigantic protrusion right under his softened pecs.  “Excuse me, please.”  Jonathan struggled, but eventually got his heavy ass off his thoroughly warmed chair.  As he straightened his back, his amazingly swollen belly protruded even farther.  A slight bit of relaxation and a sigh caused his pants button to launch in a sudden departure from its severely stressed threads. Jonathan’s taut waistband took the queue and rolled over even more, his big swollen round belly folding belt loops flat in the process.  All in a flash, his zipper, which had already begun to lower itself and taunt me, shot to the bottom of its track, as Jonathan seemed to split out of his pants like a fattened caterpillar. His cheeks reddened as he grabbed for his fly, hurrying into the restroom.

I searched for the button as Marcie gave a chuckle.  “I asked him not to wear his tight pants anymore.  I’m getting tired of sewing those damn buttons on again and again.  I think I’ll get him some of those pants that expand or at least something with stronger buttons.  Vince seems to have the right idea with his Levi’s buttonfly.  Just keep unbuttoning down as his belly grows and gets fuller and fatter.”

“There’s a thought,” I supported.

By this time, the restaurant had emptied out, and we realized that we had been there for hours eating and laughing.  Well, Jonathan had been there for hours eating, and he seemed to have done a good enough job for all of us put together.  He emerged from the restroom holding his fly

together with one hand, as reaching around his very bloated bulging belly with both hands was nearly impossible.  He sat back down with a hefty thud, his belly bouncing seductively.  

“Here’s your button, Jonathan,” I offered, holding my clenched hand across the table.  

“Thanks, guy.  Marcie can sew it on again later.”  There was muffled laughter around the table, and Jonathan realized that it must be with regard to him.  “What?” he asked.  Jonathan shifted his weight around a bit, and reached for the hot fudge sundae.  “You know what?  Bustin’ out of my pants is exactly what I needed to finish off this dessert.”

“Well, you know, Vince brought those desserts for all of us,” Marcie reminded her chunky hubby, who was now well into the melting mass of ice cream.  

“It’s ok, Marcie,” I assured her, “I couldn’t eat any if I wanted to. You all go ahead.”  With that being said, it was then apparent that Jonathan was the only one at the table able to eat dessert, and that fact in itself was fairly surprising.

An incredibly long, loud, and saturated belch soon emerged from the depths of Jonathan’s overpumped spherical belly.  He just sat there leaned into the table on his elbows, his big tree-trunk thighs spread wide, his immense heavy round belly sticking out and stretched to shiny-skinned ecstasy.  With no one really around, Jonathan felt compelled to work his taut shirt up over his belly and park the rolls of material under his meaty pecs.  Then, like watching a beach ball roll down the sand and bump itself against a wall, he reclined himself against the back of his chair.  “So, what do you think of your big ol’ pregnant guy, now?”

“I think he’s had plenty to eat this evening, and the size of his big full belly shows just how much he’s enjoyed himself.”  

“Definitely,” I added, “I feel like I have to burp just lookin’ at ya, Jonathan.”

As if there wasn’t enough visual overload for me, Vince once again rolled out of his kitchen.  This time, it was fairly comical as his belly was so swollen that he could barely wobble his way back over to our table.  Vince’s torturously tight black Levi’s begged to be let go a third button, but Vince didn’t seem to mind his bursting solid round belly’s tender skin being marked by the tight stitching.  Vince wobbled right up to Jonathan’s side and bumped his big full Italian belly into his friend’s cheek.  Jonathan turned to Vince, took the hem of his stretched tank top in each hand and pushed it up off of Vince’s prize-winning paunch.  Jonathan put his hands on the sides of Vince’s enormous solid belly and proclaimed, “damn, as full as I am, I can’t resist some stuffed Italian sausage!” Jonathan spread his jaw open and pushed his gaping mouth against the taut tan skin of Vince’s big belly. Vince was too full for Jonathan to get his mouth set on a healthy bite, and the well-fed Italian chunk laughed.  

“Jonathan, you nut.”  Vince took Jonathan’s handsome goateed face in his hands and gently pushed him away. “I have to admit that it must look pretty damn tempting…like a giant stuffed ravioli or something…”  Vince pushed Jonathan’s shoulders against the back of his chair enough to make the full belly stick out in a most center-stage fashion. Putting his hand on top of the bulge, he thumped Jonathan’s firmly stuffed belly.  “Lordy, talk about your ripe summertime watermelons!  Sure has a nice solid thump to it…must be bursting full of juice.”

“Bursting full is right.  This melon is ready to roll away from the vine.”  Jonathan began to thump his own belly.  “Well, I could choose to complain about how the massive bellyache I have, but I choose instead to wish that I had a bigger belly into which I could pack more of your outstanding cooking, Vince.”  

“Thanks for the compliment, Jonathan.”  Vince pushed against the bloated belly in front of him, giving an impromptu massage.  “God knows that I’ve discovered the advantages of growing and feeding my belly, and it looks like you have too.”

“Marcie is such a good cook.  But now that she’s pregnant, it will probably be more of a chore for her to cook as she gets bigger.”

“Cooking for you is never a chore, honey,” Marcie assured him, “but you’re right about it getting more difficult.”

“Not too worry, Jonathan.  You guys just come in here and I’ll take care of you.  Jonathan, you might want to wear some pants with a little stretch in the waist.”

“That’s good advice, heh, Vince.”  Jonathan then pushed himself up and held his pants shut with his right hand. The exertion caused Jonathan to emit another hearty belch.  “Time to settle up and waddle out, Vince,” he said, beginning to fuss to fetch his wallet.

“Not to worry, guy.  Dinner’s on me tonight.  It was great getting to see you again, and a distinct pleasure getting to stuff so much of my cooking into your belly.”  

“Wow, thanks Vince.  Thanks from the very bottom of my big stuffed belly.”  

Vince gave Jonathan another belly rub as the rest of us thanked our overly generous host as well, making movements toward the door.  Marcie had already grabbed the to-go box, and she and my roommate were the first to reach the door.  I lingered back with the two big-bellied guys, who still admired each other’s fat round paunches with pokes and pats.  “Do come back, Jonathan, you’re just too skinny.  I want to invent some great new dishes and fatten that belly.”

“I’ll see ya, Vince.”

“Bye Jonathan.  Bye Brian.”

Soon we were all outside the restaurant.  “What now, guys?”  I asked.

Jonathan spoke up, “wanna come over and hot tub for awhile?”

Marcie groaned first, then my roommate.  “I’m tired,” came the chorus of whining.  

“Brian, if you want, you can ride over with us, and I’ll take you home later.”

“Sure.  That sounds great!”

From the back seat, I could see Jonathan caressing his fat round belly by the dashboard light.  He belched from time to time, and I think he was glad his car had an automatic transmission as I sensed that he didn’t want to be interrupted from his belly rubbing by having to shift gears.  It was a quick drive to their house, and Marcie was soon enough saying “good night”, yawning, and heading off for their bedroom.  Jonathan had already shed his shoes, socks, and what was left of his pants, and wandered into their kitchen in his stretched underwear.  I followed him into the kitchen, marveling at his perfect ass, then leaned against the counter watching as he quietly opened and closed cupboard doors.

“Hungry, big guy?” I asked, watching the front of his underwear become slightly more tented.

“I shouldn’t be, huh?  After gorging myself like a big ol’ beefer.”  He scratched the lower front of his belly where his tight underwear waistband curved itself low under the immense full belly above.  He hiked his shirt up again to his pecs and stood there with his big round gut sticking out.  

“Well, you are looking pretty corn-fed these days, Jonathan. The holiday season seems to have put a nice chunk of weight on you.”

Jonathan put his hands on the sides of his belly and put forth a subsequently futile effort to squeeze it as he waddled in my direction. “Twenty five pounds since Halloween.  Do you approve?”  He pushed his solid round gut into me, pinning me against the counter.  

I grunted as he breathed in deep and pushed more of his big solid belly into my front.  “Of course, big guy.”  I took his big round belly in my hands and shook it from side to side.  Slowly I turned him around, watching the chubby head of his stiff cock snake along his lower belly. I pulled his perfect ass back against my own hard cock, then I reached around to give his pregnant belly the attention it so richly deserved. “I think your friend Vince approved of your newfound heft as well…”

“Oh that Vince!  Boy, he’s gotten so fat.  I was amazed at how big and round that fat belly of his has gotten…he always had a belly, but nothing compared to now!”  Jonathan softly grunted as I continued massaging his bloated round gut.

“Did you notice how big his belly got by the end of the evening?”

“I did.  His gut was hard as a rock.”

“Like this big gut,” I said, thumping Jonathan’s belly with alternating hands.  “You know, Vince was ready to keep feeding you as long as you were able to stuff it in.”

“I know.  I could tell. I really wanted to eat that plate of special he brought, but my belly was really full.  After you and Marcie fed me what was left of your dinners, I was ready to pop like a tick.”

“How does your belly feel now?”

“Feels pretty good.  Nice and heavy.  In fact…” Jonathan walked over to the miniscule cupboard above the refrigerator and reached up high to open it.  “Marcie doesn’t venture into these cupboards very often.”  Inside was an impressive stash of junk food, including a couple boxes of Entemann’s Pop’ems.  He opened the box and handed it to me.  “I might be hungry for some dessert.”

I put my hand on his swollen belly and pushed him into the family room. “Why don’t you relax on that rug over there by the fireplace?”  As Jonathan grunted around to bend over to get down on the floor, I cast my shoes, socks, and pants aside.  Finally he settled on his back with his mountainous ball of belly protruding up into space; straddling his cock with my ass, I sat down and shifted my weight back and forth on the stiff piece of meat.  “Open up, my big hungry pregnant-bellied guy…”

Once I began stuffing his mouth with the tasty little donuts, he laid his big muscular arms out from his sides, got totally relaxed, and just chewed blissfully.  I was surprised that more food would actually go into his belly, and he kept up pace with my hand that deposited a small donut in his mouth and then traveled back to rub and massage his big round solid belly.  Jonathan’s belly grew taller and wider with each sensuous double-glazed bite, and he put up a fuss when he realized the box was empty.  “More, please.”

“More?”  I asked incredulously, surveying the tight-skinned belly that ballooned before me. I put my hand on top of his tall bulge and pushed down.  Jonathan emitted a startled grunt and spread his legs apart under me, putting more strain on my crotch.  “More, huh?”

“Yeah.  More. Go get some more.”

It took me awhile to separate myself from him, but once I was up, I didn’t waste any time getting another box of Pop’ems.  “My God, Jonathan,” I observed, walking back, “your gut is so awesomely big.”  Straddling him once again, I sat on his throbbing cock as I pushed another tasty morsel of donut into his eager open mouth.  

“Stuff me so full that I can’t move!”  Jonathan implored, chewing his donut-bites faster.  I knew that he was pretty close to immobility as he laid there with his big stretched belly swollen up three sizes, but I happily shoved more donuts into his cute fur-surrounded mouth.  “Would you scratch my belly a little?”

As I fed him, I lavished all of the attention I could muster on his immensely bloated belly.  I scratched it.  I kneaded it. I thumped it. I shook it back and forth. I rubbed it in generous circles. And his belly just kept swelling. His cheeks were reddish as I pushed the last donut in his mouth with my finger.

“Mmmmm.  That’s so good,” Jonathan told me.  “Thirsty. Need some milk.”  

I went back to the kitchen, grabbed the nearly full half-gallon of whole milk, and searched for a turkey baster.  Coming back into the family room, I got a curious look from Jonathan, who just lay on the floor like a bloated-beached whale.  “What are you going to do with that?” he asked. Propping him up behind the shoulders, I filled the baster’s bulb with milk and shoved the pointed tip in Jonathan’s mouth.  Squeezing the bulb filled Jonathan’s mouth full of milk and he swallowed happily.  I squirted milk into him until he let out a tremendous belch and said it was time to stop.  The half-gallon container was much lighter as I picked it up to return to the fridge.  Jonathan continued to lie there looking at me; he was bigger around than ever, gorged too full to even attempt moving a muscle.   I found a little plastic bottle full of lotion on the kitchen counter, and I brought it back with me.

I knelt down by him and poked his big fat gut. “Now how’s that belly feel, guy?”

“Like it’s going to explode, and I love it.  Are you going to rub some of that lotion on my belly?”

“I was thinking about it.  Looks like I need to rub some moisture back into that skin.  It’s stretched tighter than a drum.”

 “Marcie got that lotion for growing pregnant bellies.  She doesn’t need it yet, but I sure do!”

“Yeah, you really do, ya big pregnant stud.”  I squirted some lotion into my hand and rubbed it all over the expanse of Jonathan’s gigantically ballooned belly.

“Lower,” he said.  I rubbed down south of his stretched belly button.  “Lower!”

I peeled his underwear off and grabbed onto his cock with a palmful of lotion.  Jonathan’s legs spread apart a bit more and he began to writhe with pleasure.  His strained abdominal muscles tried to contort, but he couldn’t budge; his shoulders stayed firmly planted on the floor. Just as I went to say something, his cock erupted in a hot fountain of cum that showered down all over his big mountain of a belly.  I got up and straddled his wide body again, this time lowering my throbbing cock right onto his tall mass of belly.  His bellyskin was slippery with the lotion and cum all over it, and my cock reached orgasm as I pushed it against his firmly stuffed belly.   Both of us breathing heavily, I slid off and lay at his side.   We looked at each other, but nothing really needed to be said.

Eventually the silence was broken.  “You realize that you’re gonna have to roll me over on my gut for me to be able to get up, don’t you?”

“Yep.  But there’s no hurry, big guy.”

“You’re right.”  We both smiled at each other.

les amis en ligne

Pairing: hamlaf (hamilton x lafayette)

Premise: modern/college au where laf and ham find each other’s blogs on tumblr

Word Count: 885

Dedicated to: @viktorlester-yuurihowell​ (BEST PERSON EVER)


“Look at this!” Lafeyette cried, shoving his phone into Hercules’ hands. “I have never seen someone so passionate about the American government…”

Herc rolled his eyes. Over the past week, Laf had been routinely pestering him to look at some tumblr blog. It was super political, mostly long, ranting posts about the state of their nation. Laf’s blog was mostly memes (which he was only beginning to understand) and some political things, but he had fallen in love with this one blog, standfornothing-fallforanything.

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Avengers Chatroom: Inquisitive

Requested by Anon ²

Pairings: Bucky x F!Reader

Scenario: Bucky is very nosey.

A/N: you can imagine another video of your choice if you don’t prefer the lotr one.


Wanda has created a chatroom.

Wanda has invited Nat, Y/N.

Wanda: Hey, are you two busy?

Nat: No, what’s up?

Y/N: I’m not. I’m watching this

Y/N:

Wanda: Omg

Nat: Why?

Y/N: Clint sent me one with Legolas so I’m sending him this one.

Wanda: He likes LOTR?

Nat: So basically he sent you a video of himself?

Y/N: Lol pretty much

Wanda: Oh yes. I had something important to tell the both of you.

Nat: Do I need to get my guns?

Y/N: I’ll fight anyone who hurts you.

Wanda: No! Nobody did anything.

Y/N: Is it that new recruit?

Nat: Did he ask you out yet?

Wanda: Can you please stop jumping to conclusions.

Nat: If he didn’t ask you out yet I know someone else who will.

Y/N: Nat, you tried to be matchmaker for Steve and it failed. It is going to fail again.

Nat: I’ll find someone for you as well.

Wanda: I bet Y/N is making a “Are you serious right now” face.

Y/N: I am.

Nat: What about Clark?

Y/N: That journalist guy? I guess he’s pretty cute.

Wanda: He’s average.

Nat: Not everyone can be Vision.

Wanda: What? That’s not what I meant!

Y/N:

Wanda: Why does he want to know?

Nat: I think I know why.

Bucky has joined the chat.

Bucky: You can’t keep me out.

Wanda: Of course. He was trying to find out the password.

Nat: And he succeeded.

Bucky: What are you ladies talking about?

Y/N: Leave. Now. And never come back.

Bucky: Nat why would you set Y/N up with Clark?! He’s terrible.

Y/N: It is none of your business Barnes.

Nat: Do you not want her to have a boyfriend?

Bucky: Only if it’s me.

Y/N: That is a plot twist I did not see coming.

Nat: I saw it.

Wanda: Can you leave, Bucky?!

Bucky: No.

Bucky: Y/N you screenshot our chats and send it to Wanda and Nat?!

Wanda: All friends do that.

Nat: I know everything.

Y/N: This is so embarrassing…

Bucky has invited Clint, Tony, Steve, Bruce, Thor, Vision.

Wanda: REALLY? I CREATED THIS WITH A PASSWORD NOT FOR FUN BUT TO KEEP YOU GUYS OUT!

Clint: Took you long enough, Bucky!

Bucky: I’d like to see you get the password right on the 6th try!

Tony: I could get it on the 3rd.

Wanda: I HAVE IMPORTANT NEWS THAT I WILL ONLY BE COMFORTABLE WITH TELLING Y/N AND NAT FIRST!

Y/N: You and Nat can come to my room and we can lock them out.

Bucky: I’ll pick your lock. I want to know what this big news is.

Y/N: WTF BARNES YOU CREEP.

Wanda: It would be easier to say it on the chat. In person it would be too much of a shock.

Steve: Are you pregnant?!

Vision: Wanda?!

Thor: We will have tiny avengers running around!

Wanda: You know what?

Wanda has added Pietro.

Clint: GOD DAMMIT I NAMED MY SON AFTER YOU! YOU COULD’VE HAD THE DECENCY TO STAY DEAD!

Pietro: What, you didn’t see that coming? ;)

Y/N: HOW?

Pietro: Hello, princess.

Bucky: Don’t call her princess.

Wanda: It is a long story… but Pietro is alive.

Bruce: I’m glad you’re alive.

Steve: Welcome back.

Tony: … Frankenstein? Bruce, to the lab!

Tony has left the chat.

Bruce has left the chat.

Pietro: So what did I miss?

Clint: I should’ve shot you when I had the chance.

Pietro: So you named your son after me, old man? That is so sweet.

Clint has left the chat.

Y/N: Vision has gotten really close to Wanda.

Vision: That is correct.

Y/N: Like reaaaall close.

Wanda: Y/N what are you doing?

Pietro: I die and you start putting your android moves on my sister?!

Vision: I have done no such thing.

Pietro: No respect for the deceased!

Pietro has left the chat.

Vision: Wanda, your brother is now asking me hundreds of questions.

Vision has left the chat.

Wanda has left the chat.

Y/N: I won’t be able to sleep after this.

Bucky: Ahem

Steve: Me neither.

Thor: Aye.

Nat: Want to watch a movie or something?

Y/N: Yes!

Bucky: AHEM

Y/N: … Would you like to join us?

Bucky: Yes, thank you. That’s so kind of you. Our first date.

Y/N: You better take me on a proper one after this.

Y/N has left the chat.

Bucky: YES!

Steve: Bucky stop fist pumping. You’re not supposed to move your arm a lot remember? If only you listened on the mission! Then you wouldn’t have hurt it.

Bucky: Whatever punk. I have to go meet my doll.

Bucky has left the chat.

Loki has joined the chat.

Loki: Who is this white haired man speeding around?

Thor: Brother what are you talking about?

Loki: How can you not see him? He’s running everywhere!

Steve: White hair? Speeding?

Nat: That was Pietro.

Loki: Was?

Thor: He died.

Steve: It’s a real shame.

Nat: Sometimes it’s like he’s still alive.

Thor: Well, better go join Sir Barnes and Lady Y/N.

Thor has left the chat,

Nat has left the chat.

Steve has left the chat.

Loki: Wait, come back! May I join?!

Pietro has joined the chat.

Pietro: Hi.

Loki: STAY BACK YOU APPARITION!

Loki has left the chat.

Pietro has left the chat.

Scenario:

This guy started flirting with me, and constantly mentioned and insinuated wanting to have sex with (aka bang/fuck- to use his words) me. He kept asking for nudes, fiinally stopped when I told him I wouldn’t send him anything, and at one point asked me on a date. 

There were some conditions to this date however- nobody was supposed to know about it, and if he kissed me, nobody could know about that either. 

In addition: It turns out he wasn’t single. I thought he’d broken up with his girlfriend but he admitted to me that he had not. 

Side Comments: 

This is not the first time an idiot tries to play me. 

I will never see this boy again after summer seeing as we will both be in different cities and he is not a close friend. 

He’s cute, but he’s a dick. 

So far I’ve just been doing a good job at playing the very flattered naive girl 

Options:

I could either A) agree to the date and agree to meet him there, only to stand him up and leave him waiting there like the idiot he is in addition to sending his gf proof of his infidelity- I will have no regrets. 

or B) go ahead and go on the date, get a freek book, free movie, and tapioca drink out of it, and make sure I never kiss him 

or C) never talk to him again about anything including whether or not I will be going or whether I am free at any other point in the summer 

Question:

What do my tumblr friends think I should do? 

ultimafangirl  asked:

Lets say its the NDRV3 guys first time sleeping with their S/O. (just sleeping. Nothing else) How would they react in the morning when they see her horrible bed head? (requested by someone who woke up looking like a Dragonball character once...)

Pfffft…! Okay. I’ve gotten into a similar situation before, I suppose. Anyway, here you go!

Keep reading

Alice Isn’t Dead is a new serial fiction podcast from the team behind Welcome to Night Vale.

A truck driver searches across America for the wife she had long assumed was dead. In the course of her search, she will encounter not-quite-human serial murderers, towns literally lost in time, and a conspiracy that goes way beyond one missing woman.

This sentence meme could not have been complied without the use of @alicescripts.  

THIS SENTENCE MEME IS NOT SPOILER FREE.  And, as always, feel free to edit to better suit your needs.  


part one, chapter four:  the factory by the sea

  • “I’ll try to forget what I saw there, but…I won’t be able to, will I, ____? I’ll never forget what happened.”
  • “The sea is crystalline. It’s seductive. But the land feels angry and lost. There is no harmony here. The tranquility of the lapping waves sputters out and the land slumps into place. It’s buggy as hell, too.”
  • “Goddammit! Ugh.”
  • [heavy sigh] “Whatever.”
  • “Weird, right?”
  • “Is this the world you left me, leaderless and spinning?”
  • “Sorry, off topic.”
  • “The farther south you go on this coast, the worse the drivers get. They’re old, and they’re mad down here. Why are they so mad? Why are they in my lane? WHY ARE YOU IN MY—”
  • “Shit. Sorry, ___. I know you hated it when I yelled. Hate it. You hate it when I yell.”
  • “I couldn’t tell much from the shape of them.”
  • “Cool, cool. This is perfect. Hey, help me with this, would you?”
  • “Come on in, I have to sign off on the delivery inside.” 
  • “Hmm…tempting, but I am not going to stop.”
  • “Ooh, the popcorn store! Even more tempting! An entire store of popcorn! Mm-mm. Not gonna stop for that either.”
  • “I shouldn’t judge. No one should. We all do lots of things we shouldn’t, though.”
  • “You know that green that isn’t right, that is off from what it should be? It was that green.” 
  • “Oh, sure, sorry. Just have to get the paperwork settled.”
  • “I didn’t know what to do, I pinched and pinched, but every time it hurt.”
  • “I’ve been thinking lately of our pizza nights. Dough from scratch, sauce from scratch, cheese from…well, from the store. Not goin’ that far.”
  • “I loved the making of bread, the dough for the crust. Flour and water in your hands, first separate and then merging into a silky whole. The yeast and gluten making it a living thing. It moves when you poke it. It breathes into your hands.”
  • “Our hands covered in flour, we open a bottle of wine, and we eat the pizza we made, and…we just watch whatever’s on TV and fall asleep in a wine and bread coma.”
  • “I think love is cooking together. I think it’s making something with each other, that’s what I think, ____.”
  • “I don’t know what you think. Turns out that I didn’t know what you were thinking at all.”
  • “Metal hands building metal things, and no human beings in sight.”
  • “Machine after machine, Alice. Imagine the scale of them! Picture it for me.”
  • “I didn’t say anything more.”
  • “Only one more stop now. Come on, then.”
  • “Crossing inland now. Grassland and canals. There are supposed to be alligators here, right? That’s the whole thing with this area, gators, or whatever?” 
  • “I haven’t seen any alligators, but I saw a cow drinking from a stream, looking like the first part of a scene from National Geographic. The second part didn’t happen. No gator leaping from the water with its jaws open. Cow just drank.”
  • “What is a cow doing in a swamp? Are there wild cows? There are, right?”
  • “I stood there watching as it went out further, and further, and then was gone.”
  • “There was no one in sight. It smelled like the sea, and it smelled like smoke and steel and it smelled like algae and murk.”
  • “And that’s where I am now. Driving, as I always am when we talk.”
  • “We?” [Chuckles] “Of course “we” don’t talk. I do. You vanish. You aren’t. You are a – a gap, a nothing. And I talk into that nothing. I let my words float away. I let my words vanish, and I just keep driving.”
  • “Flour on our hands, sauce on our hands, our hands on our hands, something forgettable on the television, leg upon leg. That was a life! ____, that’s what it’s made of! Hand upon hand upon leg upon heart upon couch upon a day where we made bread together.”
  • “Fuck it, right? There’s a Denny’s in two miles anyway. There’s that. ____, honey, there’s always that.”