oh man i worked too hard on this

Max Stuffing

An original weight gain story by kyaada

It had been a couple of months since I’d seen Max in the flesh, and I always looked forward to his visits to town with the neverending hope that I’d see more of him than the time before.  Each time we’d meet, I’d concentrate on bolstering his waning self-confidence attributed to his ongoing weight gain, assuring the 26 year old Swedish meat ball that he still had more than his share of good looks.  Of course, I’d also fill his head with restaurant ideas and tempting recipes, never letting him forget that it was important to keep that belly of his full of many pleasingly delicious things.

It was fairly busy day at the warehouse club with a steady stream of shoppers pushing their as-yet unfilled carts past Max’s roadshow table.  Very few stopped to show interest in the product, making it a perfect time to hang out and chat.

“Yeah, I tried to go on this diet that my father recommended, and I had bought all of this stuff– $400 worth–” Max said, scratching the top of his belly, “but it lasted two weeks. Then I gorged my way through Thanksgiving, then the whole month of December, well, hell, I’m still eatin’ like a pig.  My pants are so fucking tight, and well, this is my biggest shirt and it’s completely filled.”

“Max-filled, by the looks of it,” I said, reaching over and giving his rounded belly a gentle pat, bringing out a bit of laughter.  “Don’t beat yourself up about it, Max, I mean, come on– you’re still a really handsome guy.”

“Well yeah, but I was so hot when I was in college.  I need to get back into shape.”  He stood there letting his belly stick out as far as it wanted after his substantial lunch at Applebee’s.  Giving his stomach a friendly massage with one hand, Max worked out a steady stream of mini-belches.  “Fuck, I ate too much for lunch.”

“Aw c’mon, Max.  You enjoyed it, right?”  

“No doubt, man.”  Max put both hands on his midsection, spread his fingers, and gave his food barrel a squeeze.  “I enjoy everything too much– the main reason why I weigh 240 pounds now.  I’m the biggest I’ve ever been!  My roommate calls me his “big boy” now.  Damn him anyway for being such a good cook.”

“Oh, does he cook for you, Max?”

“Yeah, with me being out of town for a week at a time, it’s hard for me to keep groceries in the house.  He usually just cooks for me when I’m home, and with what he learned in those cooking classes last year, he’s become quite the budding chef.”

“That’s more than handy, huh?” I asked, watching Max reach down and shift some stiffness in his pants zipper region.

“You could say that.  The other week, he made this awesome tender steak with these loaded baked potatoes and this vegetable dish and this amazing garlic parmesan bread and my favorite salad and even some homemade pasta.”  Max kept his hand on top of his belly as he described the lengthy meal, rubbing back and forth as his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.  

“What? No dessert? The bastard!”

Max’s belly shook as he laughed.  “It’s all good– I don’t really care all that much for sweets.  Besides, I probably wouldn’t have been able to fit it in.  As it was, I could barely move.  I just sat there on my fat butt like a big vulnerable pregnant Buddha.”

At the mention of his divine after-dinner state, I found myself getting harder.  “That must have been quite the sight, Max.  Did your roomie rub the Buddha belly for luck?”

“Come to think of it, he did, and he snapped a couple photos with his phone.  He told me that I was too big to get away and that I’d have to eat the rest of the sausage cannelloni because he didn’t want any leftovers.”

“Wow! It sounds like you were definitely vulnerable to a serious overfeeding at that point.”

“I was beyond swollen when I finished that last bite of saucy pasta goodness. Good thing I was close to the couch and he only had to help me waddle a short distance.  The Buddha was ready to burst!”

“You know, you really do need to come to my house on a night when you don’t have any appointments.  I’ll make you some dinner, and you can relax yourself with a good feed.”

5’ 10” Max smiled at me, showing off his irresistible dimples, “that sounds like fun.  We could have drinks and I bet you’re a pretty good cook.”  

“Oh absolutely.  Guys that come to my house for dinner should wear pants with a little give in ‘em and a shirt that will stretch some.  I’ve had a couple complaints where my dinner guests had eaten too much.”

“Are you gonna impregnate the Buddha?”

“Maybe a little bit, Max.  Overstuffing you and putting you into a vulnerable state is pretty appealing to me, I’ll have to admit.  I might even have to you weigh in and out.”  My eyes shifted down to his belly region again after thoroughly inventorying his dimples, much fuller cheeks, and beginning double chin.  “By the way, what time do you go to lunch today?”

“We could go now, actually, it’s not that busy.” Max began gathering his various phones and electronic devices.  “Besides, all this talk about food has made me hungry.”
As we walked across the parking lot to his favorite standby Applebee’s, I noticed how much his round belly bounced with each eager step.  

“Where are the good places around here to run?” Max asked me as one of his heavier steps dislodged a small belch.

At first, my mind refused to connect the vision of his perfectly fat bouncing ball of belly and his desire to go through such ridiculously pointless physical effort; nonetheless, the memory of his diet and exercise talk spurred my response.  “Run? That’s too hard on your knees, Max.  You don’t want to be running.”  The short walk across the parking lot was topped by the sight of his wide rear going into the restaurant ahead of me.  He really did have an amazingly shaped bubblebutt and gloriously stacked love handles.

When we got to the booth, I noticed that the table was pushed over to one side, and he automatically chose the widest seating area. Max said that he was going to be good and just have a salad.  I told him that I knew he was trying to stick to his diet and “get back into shape”, so I first interested him in the French Onion soup that he’d never tried before, then ordered the 4-Cheese Mac and Cheese with Honey Pepper Chicken Tenders along with a steak quesadilla appetizer for us to share.  He gave it some thought and added some crispy chicken to top his humble Caesar.  

Max received his soup first, and was completely thrilled with the new flavor and stacks of gooey cheese.  He helped himself to pieces of the steak quesadilla at my urging, and was well through that pile of nibbles by the time our entrees came.  The server flew about like a crazed bee between tables because it was so packed, but she still managed to keep Max up to his nipples in Coke, which he sucked down at a near-panicked rate.  Next, Max conquered his heaped salad easily, and didn’t flinch when I pushed my mac and cheese towards him with a heartfelt request for assistance.  

Max’s belly swelled with obvious confidence.  The gap between his expanding stomach and the table edge narrowed as he widened in front of my eyes.  The fleece pullover, already tight all over, was getting a stretching in the midsection.  Suddenly realizing how full he was getting, Max leaned back momentarily and emitted a stout belch.  The bearchub of a manager chugged his way up to the table and asked how everything was tasting, recognizing Max from his many previous lunch trips.  “How’s my best customer?” the bearchub asked, “from here, it looks like you’ve got a little space left between you and that table, so we should fill it with a nice big dessert. What do you say?”

Powerless to avoid being desserted, Max watched as the bearchub sat an overscooped Blue Ribbon Brownie in front of him with two spoons.  The brownies were stuffed with chunks of dark chocolate and nuts, covered in hot fudge.  Two large scoops of chocolatey decorated vanilla ice cream sat on each side of the brownie pile in a similarly irresistible manner like Max’s fattened pecs adorned the top of his rising belly.  Despite his previously mentioned aversion to sweets, Max gorged himself to capacity on the quickly melting heap of decadence.  
“There! That was a great diet lunch, Max.” I complimented the completely rounded stud seated in front of me.  His overfull belly pushed against the table hard enough to cause a mini-roll of fatness just above the table ledge.  If I would have shoved the table over just one inch toward him, it was likely that I’d be wearing his enormous dessert.

Max smiled at me as he rested his head back against the top of the booth, absentmindedly running his hand across the top of his big bloated belly.  “I’m so fucking full that I hurt.”

“Poor guy! Applebee’s apple barrel boy.”

Max looked at his phone.  “Oh shit– I better get back to work!” His sudden realization spurred him into movement, but his next revelation was that he was a bit too overloaded to move quickly.  “Oh my Goddddd, get the forklift!  You might have to help roll out the barrel boy…”  Belching and grunting his way out of the tight fit of the booth, Max was finally able to stand up and begin his journey to the front door.  Even the most casual of observers in the restaurant could make out Max’s protuberant bulge and how it led the way while he shifted his pasta butt into gear to motor towards the entrance.  

“Take your time, Max, remember, you’re built for comfort, not speed.” I told him, looking ahead to see the bearchub manager waiting patiently at the front with a to-go bag.  

“You got that right– besides, I don’t think I could move faster than this if I tried.”

Max slowly glided into position by the bearchub manager like a heavy-laden truck pulling into a highway weigh station.  The manager smiled and thanked him profusely for coming in again, handing him the to-go bag.  Addressing Max’s confused look, he offered, “you forgot your leftovers at your table, sir.”

“But I didn’t…” Max sputtered, relaxing his belly for a moment to let it become as round as possible.  The hefty young manager peeled off a “Blue Ribbon” sticker and smoothed it onto Max’s extra-taut fleece right above his left nipple.  Finding the humor in the situation, we all chuckled at how Max really did resemble fattened free range livestock.  The bearchub reached over and patted Max’s very full belly and thanked him for being a valued customer, “I know that you’re pretty stuffed at the moment, but here’s a little snack to tide you over before dinner.”

The walk back to the warehouse was a much lazier affair due to Max’s heavy lunch.  His gut was so packed so tightly that it essentially refused to bounce with each plodding step. 

“Still thinking about taking up running again there, Max?”

“Smart ass.” Max smirked at me.  “Exercise of any kind is pretty much out in my present condition,” he confirmed as he rubbed his impressive sphere in languid circles.  “Buddha Boy here overdid it again…”

~.~

The next day, Max sent me pics during his visit to Famous Dave’s.  “Diet food” was the title of the first one, showing a mega-pile of food for his “Feast for One”, and this was after he’d guzzled beer at the bar during happy hour.  He’d told me before that he usually avoided drinking beer because it made him bloat so outrageously, but the cute young bartender had convinced him to try a local brew he ended up really enjoying. Max devoured his single feast after tanking up with beer, and sent a photo looking down to show how round he’d become.  His new gal pal behind the bar went on to work out a deal on a giant bowl of bread pudding with sauce and ice cream, enticing Max to stuff it in.  He must have handed her the phone to take the picture, so I received a very revealing shot of his tight shirt and swollen belly accompanied by a text that said he was going to “have to be rolled out.”  I texted back and told him that I loved his new diet plan.  
The following night, Max ate Mexican food before going out to two appointments.  Then, he went out for pizza and beer.  Following that, he used the 2-for-1 Whopper meal coupon I’d given him and had to go to his hotel room for a rest.  He sent me several photos of his attempts to get comfortable on the bed, blaming me for his overgorged state because I’d shoved that coupon on him.  After accusing me of being a bad influence, he told me that he had the next evening free, so I jumped on the chance to invite him over for dinner.  Then he called me.

I answered the phone and heard this protracted belch rumble through my earpiece.  

“Wow, Max, you okay?”

“Oh my GOD I’m so full.  Just stick me with a pin and pop me already.”  Max said, breathing loudly enough for me to hear him over the phone.

“Poor guy. At least you’ve had two nights of stretching your stomach before you come to dinner at my house.”

“I’m definitely stretched out. I had to unbutton my pants.” Max belched again.  “I look so fat right now.”

“You looked like a big ol’ sausage in the pics you sent me.  A big, stuffed sausage…”

“Sauté me in beer until I split.” Max quipped.  

“So, are you in the mood for beer tomorrow night, Max?”

“Whatever you got.  I’m just gonna sit there with my mouth open like a little baby bird and let you feed me whatever you want.”

“Okay then.” I felt my face get hot as my blood started to rush around my body.

~.~

I certainly didn’t mind spending hours preparing for Max’s Big Meal the next day.  Cooking and baking non-stop, I gave my collection of cookbooks a thorough workout.  Feeling a touch exhausted, I poured myself a gin and tonic and looked over the assortment with undeniable satisfaction as the doorbell rang.  Time had really gotten away from me during all of that preparation.

I opened the front door and guided Max in.  “Hello there,” I said.  “Hey,” Max replied with a smile.

“You know, I’ve never been invited to a guy’s house for dinner before,” Max said as he shed his coat and showed off his ensemble.  To my amazement, he’d chosen his black knit pullover shirt he’d outgrown several months prior, stretched it over what appeared to be a tank top underneath, and then struggled to button his tan dress pants from work.  The zipper had no hope of traveling up to the top of the track, and there was a “v”-shaped gap underneath the tortured pants button.  

“No worries, dude.  You just sit back and get a bellyful of food and drink like normal.”

“All right, I can do that!”  Max confirmed, running his right hand over his rounded middle.    He sucked in the delicious aromas that filled the air.  “Wow, what smells so good?”

“I’m so glad you asked.  Would you like a drink?”

“That sounds perfect.” Max said, “I could use a stiff one.”  

“Kitchen’s that-a-way,” I pointed out, letting him walk in front of me.  His fat butt wobbled from side to side in front of me, and I tried to calculate how many pots of pasta it took to get the seat of his tight pants to fill out that much.  “How about a martini?”

“Sure!”  Max looked around at the smorgasbord of food around the kitchen and was genuinely surprised.  “Oh. My. God. You really outdid yourself!”

Max made short work of the frozen glassful of gin I’d poured him and held the empty out for me to fill again.  “No way, you left the scale out for me?”  Seeing the scale over by the back door, Max sauntered over and stepped on it.  “Not sure if I should do this or not…”

I took another long drink of my gin and tonic as I walked over to see what the scale had to say.  “Huh.  251 pounds, Max,” I told him as he tried to suck in his belly and lean forward to look down at the readout.  

“251, really?” Max sipped his martini confidently.  “Damn. I just keep putting on weight,” he said as he started scooping up seven layer dip with tortilla chips, “ Well, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised with how much chow I’ve been pushing down my gullet these past few days.”  The effects of the quick infusion of cold gin became obvious; Max was getting “softer”.

Like a switch had been flipped, Max concentrated on conquering the chips and dip while alternating nibbles of crostini slathered with roasted garlic cream cheese, roasted peppers, and balsamic vinegar.  I opened him a beer and he guzzled to wash down the uninterrupted stream of appetizers.  Finding true love with the barbecue sauce-drenched bacon-wrapped Italian meatballs, he popped them in his mouth, one after the other, like Pac Man on a hurried trip through the maze.  Max’s black shirt stretched as his stomach swelled, and his facial expression was that of pure bliss.  “What’s for dinner?” he asked.

“Come this way,” I said, guiding him into the dining room where I’d set a very attractive table.  “Make yourself comfortable.”

“One minute,” Max delayed, as he doubled back to fill a large plate full of his favorite hors d’ oeuvres.  

“You’ve sure got a good appetite there, Max.” I complemented him, giving his middle a lustful stare.

“You’re an amazing cook, too.  I think I’m in trouble,” Max told me, setting his big plate of nibbles on the table and rubbing his rounder belly in wide circles.  

Max’s prediction of trouble became more real over the next hour of uninterrupted binging.  After he’d finished the entire pan of steak enchiladas, the outline of his wide belly button was unmistakeable through his divinely taut shirt.  The slipperiness of the black knit material caused the hem of that outer shirt to slide up a bit on his swelling belly, creating a white strip of the cotton undershirt below.  Max finally took a break from shoving food into his mouth.  He scooted his ample butt forward and leaned back in his dining chair, arching his back slightly.  The movement caused him to emit a very satisfied belch; startled at the volume of the burp, Max excused himself and rested a hand on top of his much taller belly.

I leaned toward him, unable to hide my pleasure in his condition, and pushed my hand against his firm stomach.  Max let out a grunt and looked over at me.  “How are ya feelin’ there, big guy?” I asked, giving his bulging belly a couple enthusiastic thumps.  “Yer gettin’ big!”

“The food is too good. I gotta use your restroom for a minute.”

Max struggled to get up, grunting and groaning all the way, pausing to stand before me while he stretched his arms up to the ceiling.  His combination of shirts rode up his belly, baring a nice portion for me to view, and his pants button appeared to be in imminent danger of launching.  Max grabbed his latest beer bottle off of the table and chugged down what was left.  “Ahhh, good stuff,” he said, belching loudly.  Allowing his belly to relax a little, the increased size was enough to pop his pants button off into my lap.  

“Well, it was only a matter of time.  That button’s days were limited,” I comforted him.

“40s here I come,” Max said before turning to wobble to the bathroom.  I watched his concerted effort to walk after eating as much as he did, and continued marveling at how fat his ass had gotten over the previous few months. His gait seemed unnecessarily hindered until he let out a fart as he exited the room.  “Excuse me!” he called behind him as he continued his journey to apparently release even more accumulated pressure.

I checked on the outrageously topped pizza in the oven and pulled it out ahead of it becoming too browned.  Opening another beer for Max, I waited for him to return.  As I was cutting slices, I heard Max puffing his way down the hallway.  Emerging in the kitchen, he lacked his overtight black pullover shirt and was clad only in his completely filled white tank top.  His nipples were obviously hard and he’d made no effort to raise his pants zipper whatsoever.  Max’s basket was plump as he opened his mouth.  “Pizza?  Oh no.  My weakness.  You know my weakness.”

“Yup.  You told me one time and I’ve never forgotten.”

Max stood there in the kitchen admiring the incredibly tasty mound of toppings smothering a semi-thick crust, sucking back drool and swallowing hard to keep it from escaping the corner of his mouth.  “It looks so good.”

“Do ya think it will fit in your belly?”

“It’s definitely gonna be a tight fit.  I’m gonna have to stretch top-to-bottom and side-to-side.”

“Attaboy, Max! That’s the spirit!”

I picked up a heavy slice and guided it towards his mouth.  His lips instinctively parted as he opened his mouth wide for a giant bite.  I pushed the ample portion in as far as I could and he responded by taking an enormous chunk.  That first piece disappeared quickly, and his hunger was reignited by the irresistible combination of flavors.  He stood there in front of the cooktop gorging himself on pizza as I opened another beer for him.  Max spread his feet apart to lower his center of gravity toward the food supply, and relaxed his abdominal muscles as possible to facilitate continuous swelling.

I must have created the perfect storm of toppings because Max could not and would not stop eating.  His midsection blew up like a balloon as he used both hands to push in slice after slice.  He looked over at me with a couple pieces remaining, blinked several times, belched forcefully, and said, “I’m getting s-t-u-f-f-e-d!!”

“No doubt, Max.  Your gut looks like you’ve swallowed a beach ball.”

Max chuckled as he requested another beer. “I can’t believe what a bad influence you are.  I’m supposed to be on a diet!”

“Hey, I’m sorry, Max.”  I walked over and placed my hand on top of his protruding belly.  I pushed in to fully appreciate the fullness, watching his nipples harden again.  His softened pecs sat on top of his overfed belly as plump reminders of his long-forgotten days in the gym.  I put my other hand on the small of his back, brushing his thick lovehandle on the way over.  Pushing him forward with one hand as I rubbed back and forth on his solid belly with the other, I noticed him chew his mouthfuls faster.  “Your diet is as blown as this fat belly.”

Max looked down and the surprise on his face was evident.  “Holy fuck…my belly has never been this big!”

“Feels good, doesn’t it, Max?”

“Fuck yeah. Keep rubbing!  Maybe get behind me and use both hands…”

He didn’t have to ask twice, and I pushed my hot crotch into his fat bubble butt as I reached around his front.  Max gobbled down the last of the pizza and guzzled his near-full beer.  I squeezed a big long belch out of him and then shook his enormously swollen belly from side to side.

“You’ve impregnated me with food!” Max babbled in a daze, leaning his head back against my shoulder.  “Not that I’m complaining at all, but fuck, I’m so fat!”

“Yeah, you are. Your belly feels like it’s gonna bust!”

“No lie. You ought to pop me and put me out of my misery!”

“Maybe after dessert.”

“Dessert?”

I started smacking Max’s tight gut with alternating hands.  “Damn, this tank makes some fine sounds.  I could play this drum for a long time!”  Max put his weight back against me as I harvested a new round of burps from his ripe watermelon of a belly.

Max pulled away from me and waddled over to where the scale sat on the floor.  He was so full that his arms swayed out away from his body.  Stepping on the scale, he became frustrated almost immediately.  “Shit.  I can’t see the display– my belly is too big.  You fed me too much!”  

I walked over to his side, looked down, and reported the 261 that showed on the display.  Smacking him right in the full gut, I told him “hey, it takes two to make a 10 pound food baby.”

“Fuck, man.  I gotta go on a diet.  I’ll never find a girlfriend at this rate.”

“Max, I’ve told you before…you’re a damn handsome guy!  So what if you’re thirty, forty, uh, sixty or so pounds overweight for your height.”

“More like 80 pounds overweight,” Max smirked, putting a hand on each side of his bloated sphere of chow.  “Okay, 90.”

“Trust me, Max.  You can find a girlfriend.  There’s plenty of women out there that will find you a plenty good catch.  You’ve got a steady income, you’re reliable, and you come with nice big bubble in the middle, which means you’re on the level.”  

“I’m just not looking because I don’t like how I look right now…” Max said, stepping off of the scale.

“But hell, you’re so hunky and chunky.  You just need to find a girl that will bring you beers while you sit on the couch waiting for her to finish making you an extensively filling dinner.  You’d be much happier letting your belt out another notch than going and sweating it up at some gym.”

I could sense Max traveling to this magic land of perpetual weight gain in his mind as he   wobbled back into the main kitchen area sniffing around for more food. “I do hate cardio, that’s for sure.”  He parked his fat butt against the counter and let his gut relax out to full bulge.  

“See?” I eased my way over in front of him and gently punched around on his enormous ball of belly.  His tank top’s hem lifted up to expose his belly button, inviting my finger in for a visit.  “You’re destined to be an overfed chubby hubby.”  As I pushed my finger in and out of his belly hole, he horned up instantly.  “Now, how about some dessert?”

“Jeeeeeez. Are you just going to keep pushing food in me until I explode?”

“Is that a bad thing?” I inquired.

“Nah. You’re an amazing cook.  My belly is telling me to stop, but my taste buds are longing for more.  Why did you make everything so delicious?”

“It was all part of the plan to make sure you really enjoyed yourself, Max.  I’ve loved watching you grow fatter over the last few months.”

“Hmmm.  Well, you do talk about restaurants and recipes a lot.  You’re always making me hungry….even after I’ve eaten!”

“Oops… Sorry about that.”  I pulled out a plate of brownies and wafted the aroma under Max’s nose.  He started salivating again, and his dimples made a lengthy reappearance.  “Brownie cups with Reese’s peanut butter cup centers…”

“No way…”  

I took one and shoved it halfway into his mouth.  Pouring him a big glass of chocolate milk, I had him take a big gullet-clearing swig after he swallowed the generous bite of brownie treat.  “C’mon.”

Soon, I had him laying across my lap on the couch as I fed him stuffed brownies and poured chocolate milk down his throat.  After I’d shove another morsel in his eager mouth, I’d give his ever-swelling belly an intense rubbing.  Max’s stomach pushed up higher and higher into the air, becoming tighter as it rose.  Finally, Max was struggling to swallow down each subsequent bite, and I knew he was reaching capacity. 

“Ohhhh, my belly…” Max moaned.  

I put both hands on his mound and finger-massaged my way around it.  “It’s like a big round rock!”

“I know…it’s all your fault.” Max got out between labored breaths.  “I’m overgorged.”

“Poor guy.  Hard-bloated from rib to cock….” I thumped his enormous gut like a ripe melon.  “Now, aren’t you glad you finally made it over for dinner, Max?”

“Buddha is on the verge of going boom!”

Max wriggled off of my lap and capsized onto all fours on the floor.  For a moment, all he could do was adjust to the amount of gravity pulling his tumescent abdomen close to the rug.  “Blue ribbon Buddha…” I observed, remembering the sticker he’d gotten the other day from the hot bearchub manager at Applebee’s.  Thumping the side of his full tank, I produced a series of most pleasing “bomp” sounds.  “So ample and plump, this Buddha Boy,” I told him, scooting forward to sit on the edge of the couch so that I could reach all of the way under his solid gut.  “Like a big tom turkey being fattened for a sublime Thanksgiving meal.”

“Tell me about it.  I keep wanting to get back my hot college bod to get the ladies, but all I have are guys stuffing me until I’m ready to pop like a tick!”

“You should resist those insane temptations and do some push ups – right now!”  

Max grunted incredulously.  Pushing his legs back one after the other, he soon found himself laying on his beach ball of a gut in a pregnant plank position.  I pushed him over onto his back and watched his mountainous bellyful wobble into upward prominence. I mercilessly fingered his shallower belly button and shook his tank from side to side.

“Heh.  I thought so.  Now, try to do a sit up.”

“Please.” Max breathed, working out a long, satisfied belch.  I knelt down beside him and put both hands on top of his tall girthy gut, applying pressure in various degrees all over the broad expanse.  I watched his cock lengthen inside his taut underwear, knowing that he was thoroughly enjoying the attention. Grabbing the hem of his tank top, I worked the skin tight affair up to his fattened pecs crowned with hard nipples.  I slapped the bare skin of his bloated stomach, careful not to work his packed digestive tract too much.  

“Max can’t run, he can’t do a push up or a sit up,” I stated, lifting my leg up and over to straddle his big round mountain.  “He can’t even escape a sure and certain forcefeeding coming up to finish him off.”  I gently bounced on his giant gut, quite mindful of the fact that it could prove disastrous to put much weight on it.

Max sputtered out an oh-my-god, then “sit on my cock instead. My pregnant belly can’t take any pressure at all.  I’ll split down the middle!”

“Attaboy, Max,” I affirmed, giving his taut balloon a good massage, “now to push another fattening pile of food into Buddha…”

chibi-megimoo  asked:

aawww dude! just saw ur recent post, and that sucks man. (っ´ω`)ノ(╥ω╥) i have problems like that too every now and then. and when they stole it, it still have my fuckin' signature. i mean like wtf?? sometimes i gave up too because there's NO WAY to stop someone from stealin' ur art work. i guess the best answer is to have your watermark obvious enuf to see (눈_눈) (they want their fuckin' attention man)

Oh god Thank you (´;ω;`)ヾ(・ ω ・`)
This problem has been troubled for a long time. Watermark is indeed the focus. I often forget to add watermark..!_(´ཀ`」 ∠)_
It’s really hard to stop people stealing Art…..
I made a watermark yesterday (ง •̀_•́)ง

And…………. I love your art (♡>艸<♡)!!

“Don’t work too hard, eh?”

Said with a snippy tone of voice and the most patronizing glare I have ever seen from an old man, while I am running two tills during a huge rush and dealing with loads of impatient customers who don’t understand I’ve got multitudes of crap to get done, and let’s not forget my supervisor flat out up and left and at that point I had no idea where she was. Oh, and no managers or anyone was coming up to help even though we paged them three times.

In other words.

Do not fucking imply I don’t work hard enough to please your ass. I work two jobs, one being full time, and this one here. I haven’t had a day off for a while because my other job keeps popping up. Just because you had to wait a few minutes like everyone else does not give you the right to imply I’m lazy. Kindly go fucketh thyself sir. And have a great day.

The Glitched System review
( markiplier / darkiplier )
The Glitched System review

Mark: “Hello, everybody! My name is Markiplier and I’ve just found this… unusual network of a sort on Tumblr called “The Glitched System.”

Now, I’m sure all of you are probably wondering to yourselves, “What the hell? What’s Markiplier doing here? What’s going on?” Well, I’ll let you in on the details soon. For now, I’m delving in to this seemingly spoopy askblog, which I’ve heard has gotten a huge following after a month since it was created. Seems like a bunch of questions get answered in the form of audio posts, with some quick ones done in text. Let’s see…

Ooh… Ooh, there seems to be a– a certain headcanon built up for Antisepticeye. I mean, I knew he was a monster with all the glitches and everything, but good God, he’s menacing! What’s with all the growling? Is he part werewolf or something…?

Hey, look, Warfstache is in this– Ohh… He hasn’t been around for a long while… Oh, well. Moving on!

Ha, Googleplier is here, too! Never heard of this “Bingsepticeye” character, though. Who’s crazy idea was that? Certainly not mine, I can tell you that!

What the– Felix? The hell is he doing here? I didn’t know he was answering questions on this blog as well! The more you know, I guess.

And speaking of which, Cry is in this as well! Man… His voice has a way of making you literally calm down after a hard day’s work, doesn’t it?

I like the little warp and radio effects they’ve got going on with Virus!Cry. That’s something we don’t see everyday.

Well, I think I can safely say that I’ve looked through enough material on this askblog to provide some valuable feedback on it. The Glitched System looks absolutely fantastic. I like the idea of having all of these YouTube community characters being voiced by other people and providing information about their own takes on the characters they… speak on behalf of, for lack of a better phrase. This is really unique. Kinda makes you feel a little uncomfortable with the creepy music going on auto-play when you visit the page, but I think that’s to be expected when you’re visiting the askblog on your browser.

Well, that’s all I have to say about this blog, The Glitched System. I hope you guys enjoyed my little critique, so thank you guys for listening. And as always, I wil see YOU–”

Dark: “Aren’t you forgetting someone in particular?”

Mark: “…Uhhhhhhhh… April Fools~”

(Dark snaps Mark’s neck and lets him fall to the ground.)

Dark: (chuckles) “April Fools, indeed….”


From all of us among The Glitched System… April Fools, everyone!

V + Saeran not added because this seemed to get too repetitive *finger guns away*


Zen:
  • He thinks its amazing that you’re known for your creativity and skill– Sighs and wishes he could be known like that with acting; But instead its all about his looks and voice in that area. But you, You’re known for ripping out hearts, stepping on them, and killing off fan favorites at a minutes notice. And he loves you for it, you sadistic little angel you.
  • Regardless he doesn’t really understand how hard writing actually is since.. he’s never really written before? One of those people that think you just throw a few words down and bam you’re done like no baby. no. we all wish it could be like that.
  • So he’s really surprised to see the process of it all; The writers block, the procrastinating, the editing and re-reading, the doubting yourself, then the random spurts of creativity where all you do is sit and write for hours. And he’s really never seen something more frustrating. It looks like such a tedious thing, he definitely takes back what he said about it being easy.
  • “ And she took the blade into her palms… No– That doesn’t sound right.. ” He watched with wide eyes as you wrote and rewrote sentences over and over again, he thought everything sounded fine? But you didn’t seem to like it. He knew you were tired, he’s told you multiple times to take a break but you refused. Insisting you had to get at least one chapter done tonight if anything.
  • He just sighs at your stubbornness with a knowing smile, offering you some tea or hot cocoa which you graciously accept. He’ll even try and help you with writing by sitting on the couch beside you and letting you read what you’ve written to him. Rereading it helps you catch mistakes and odd phrases or sentences, which is helpful. But he always says “ It sounds fine? Why are you deleting it? ” Z e n.
    Jumin:
    • I feel like Jumin someday would love to write a memoir of some sorts, so when he finds out you’re an author he thinks thats perfect– You could help him with it if you’re feeling up to it.
    • But seeing how stressed and busy you usually are makes him not want to bring up the idea. He cant believe writing could be this tedious. He gives you a little room in his house as an office for you to work in and you’re in it constantly. When he comes home from work thats the first place he checks, surrounded with stress relieving candles and a cup of whatever you’re liking at the moment. He begs you to come to bed with him, but seeing as you wont budge he’ll pull up a chair and stay with you.
    • “ You’re adding too many big words. Your targeted audience wont understand a lot of that. ” Oh, he’s right. Actually its nice to have Jumin reading over your shoulder. Stressful as hell but he catches mistakes quickly and gives his honesty on certain phrases and sentences; since he’s read practically billions of books in his 27 years.
    • Eventually you get the chapter done after nearly a week and sheepishly show it to him. He reads it with a concentrated expression, not willing to give away any hint of emotion.
    • When he’s all done you ask him what he thinks about it. “ Its lovely, you capture the scenery beautifully and the emotions of your characters. I enjoyed it; as will others, my love. ” He praises you for your hard work by giving you a kiss on the top of the head and rubbing your (very sore) back softly. He’s proud of you. and youre pretty damn proud of yourself too? this man better give you a back rub for hours tonight because sitting at a desk for so long nearly killed you holy shit
    Yoosung:
    • Oh boy does he wish he had your patience and skill. never would admit this but he really lowkey wants you to write LOLOL fanfiction of his characters for him
    • He cant believe how much you work though. It seems like you’re on your laptop for decades on end and he hates it! Usually spends an hour or two on LOLOL before getting bored and checking up on you.
    • Aaaand youre still at your laptop looking like you’re ready to kill a man. Lovely.
    • “ MCCC…. ” He’s so whiney when you overwork yourself. He wants attention badly but you tell him youre busy. even though we all know you’ve been staring at that empty screen contemplating the meaning of life for hours now. dont lie.
    • Snuggles into your side and asks you about what your writing and such. He sees obviously not much progress being done on the screen, but he’s pretty sure you know that already..
    • Eventually he’ll encourage you to write for five minutes, take a quick break to stroke his hair and pay attention to the movie he put on ages ago, then return back to your five minutes of writing. It wasn’t much, but he didn’t want to complain.
    Jaehee:
    • Shes thought about becoming an author in the past; but never ended up taking it up. shes written zen fan-fiction before though so she knows a little somethin’ somethin’ about writing.
    • She finds herself cleaning your office a lot. Theres so many coffee cups in here MC. Did you sleep last night?
    • My character slept does that count?
    • No.
    • She eventually gives up on trying to place a schedule with you since you’re always tucked away inside that gross little office you could practically call home. So investing in a laptop for you was a much needed decision; make or break sort of thing. You can write and be within ten feet of her at the same time cant you?
    • Learns to adapt to your odd and unhealthy writing schedule as long as she can still snuggle with you while you’re at it. And you’re sweet enough to turn down the brightness of the screen when its late at night too so it doesn’t hurt her eyes, so sweet.
    • She loves to read your past books while you work and ends up curiously asking for some slight spoilers, which you don’t exactly tell her since.. Well you don’t really know yourself. She finds this funny though that you wrote the book but you don’t even know how it ends. But yet gets a bit excited thinking of all the power she has by being your girlfriend… 10/10 WILL crush you with her thighs if you kill off her favorite character.
    Seven:
    • MC CANYOUWRITEME
    • He’s always asking you to write the weirdest shit for him just because you know how? seven I will not write a Yooseven / LOLOL crossover au. and dont break the forth wall youre scaring me.
    • Probably out of everyone he knows how hard it is on you to sit at a desk and stare at a screen when you need to get something done. Hacking and writing are different even if he insists otherwise, writing a small haiku into the programming of your computer to prove his point. *finger guns* why are you like this
    • He hates how you leave for so long to write but he gets its your job. He just wishes it wasn’t. So he gets insanely whiny about it, knocking on your office door and coming in asking “Are you all done now?” almost every five minutes. Luciel. Sh. Focus time.
    • You end up locking him out of the room but he doesnt take that very well and turns to passing notes under the crack of the door;
      “ Are you done now.. .. .. …… . . ”
      With his signature mini seven doodle attached or sometimes a poorly drawn elizabeth the 3rd in the corner. He was distracting you and he knew it, but he never stops until you’re chasing him halfway across the house with a broom to get him to shoo.
    • Eventually he might give up, but thats rare. You have no choice but to let him in and allow him to spin around on a wheely chair while you give him spoilers for upcoming chapters. He always gives you, quite dramatic, feedback; like gasping loudly whenever you say something “ intense ” is going to happen to your characters. Or trying to convince you to kill every single character in a fit of rage and passion. No Saeyoung. No. N'aw.. He thought it would be a great idea.

Before I sleep I just wanna say that you know who’s probably the most excited about Roman v Taker?

Roman Reigns.

Roman loves Taker, he loves wrestling* and I bet getting to work with someone as great as Taker and as prestigious is probably a dream of his too. A lot of people are like “oh this isn’t a good match up” or “taker shouldn’t lose to Roman.” but don’t understand that it takes tons of hard work, and trust which Roman has put in for a match like this, be vocal that’s okay but please god stop denying that this man has passion, love and a true heart for the business he’s in.

truthfully, the behind the scenes of strong woman do bong soon is probably the most solid evidence of how powerful n worldly park bo young is. I remember during oh my ghostess, a taken man JO JUNG SUK !!!!!!! was like ‘its so hard working with boyoung because she just does things that make you automatically want to smile n its hard to control your emotions while acting with her’ n its like bitch…..you get it too, good. literally in the behind the scenes hyungsik always laughs n smiles @ boyoung whenever she does something cute n its like how does one act with her for like 3 months n not fall in love with her ??????????? when bongsoon is holding onto the pole in some episode n minhyuk convinces her to let go in the behind the scenes hes like LAUGHING because shes soooo cute !!!!!! n everything she does hes like 😂😂😂 but thats real because who can truly act serious n mean around her when shes her. 

Gladiolus

  • At first, Gladio would be so cocky about his chances. For the past few months, he had been building a good relationship with you, creating this bond. The two of you had stayed up last night just talking, there had been times you had fallen asleep in his bed. There was just one thing left to do and that was him explaining how he truly felt.
  • It wouldn’t be like Gladio would choose a particularly good time to inform you how he truly feels. It would be after a particularly gruelling fight and you were all regaining your strength, drinking some water when Gladio would pipe up. “I gotta tell you this now. I really like you.”
  • At first, a look of confusion would pull across your face before you would just laugh and nod your head, reaching over to punch him playfully in the arm and then responding to him. “Yeah. I know. I really like you too, buddy. Should we catch up with the others?” About to turn around.
  • It would be at that point that Gladio would be gobsmacked, creasing his brows and looking down at you. He really thought he had made it obvious to you, but here you were about to walk away from him, skipping back towards your friends. In the next moment, he took hold of your arm and twisted you around. “No, I mean…” Then brought his lips down on yours in a passionate way.
  • For a moment it shocked you, eyes wide and staring at his face as Gladio kissed you sensually. This hadn’t been something you had expected but somehow it was something you felt as if you had needed. You soon sunk into the kiss, whimpering gently as his lips pulled away from your own giving you some air. “Oh, I think I understand now…”

Ignis

  • Honestly, it wouldn’t be a surprise for Ignis to planning this conversation with you down to the last second. There would be an absolutely amazing dinner waiting for you in a room that was lit with candles, the table was set and there was a delicate musical piece playing from his phone. This really should have made some clues for you, but it didn’t.
  • Even though you stuffed down your food in mouthfuls at a time Ignis didn’t feel insulted, as a matter of fact, it was a compliment to his cooking. Smiling across at you, chuckling as you finished your plate, patting your face with a lovely napkin that had been laid out for you. “Mm. That was really great. I wonder what the rest of the lads ate.”
  • A soft shake of Ignis’ head was his response, pushing his plate away too and then looking towards you, leaning across the table to place his hand close to your own, something that you hadn’t noticed in the moment. “I’m not sure… Let’s not dwell on them, hmm? Not whilst we’re together.” He smirked and you creased your eyebrows. “I… I wanted you to know… I did all this because… Well, I like you.”
  • For a couple of moments, you were blinking staring across at him and then furrowing your eyebrows, laughing and nodding your head. “I like you too, Ignis. I mean, who else is gonna make me meals like those?” You shrugged your shoulders and then laughed once again. It was at this point that it was clear to Ignis that you didn’t understand his true meaning, or why you had even been asked to come to this meal.
  • Ignis was blinking slowly across at you before chuckling and shaking his head. “No… I… I think you misunderstand.” He then rose up and wandered around the table which made you stand up too. In a quick moment, Ignis reached across to brace his hand on the back of your head and pull you forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, as sudden as they were there they were gone again, Ignis gazing down at you through his glasses and replying. “Is that a little more clear?” You were shocked, you nodded your head and this made Ignis chuckle, finally, you understood.

Noctis

  • It had been a relief for Noctis that you had agreed to go fishing with him, the two of you were sat on the end of the dock, his rod was placed to the side, resting gently without having about bites of nibbles but the two of you were happily digging into the sandwiches that he had packed.
  • You gently through the crust of your bread into the water and then gazed across to Noctis who seemed deeply in thought for a moment. “So, uh…” He swallowed a mouthful of food before smiling at you. “I didn’t just bring you out here so that you could watch me fish. I actually have something I want to tell you.” He said. “I… like you.”
  • For a moment you were confused, creasing your eyebrows and taking another bite of the other half of your sandwich before answering. “Yeah… I know.” You nodded your head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I like you too… you’re super funny, you’re one of my best friends, Noct” You smiled and then turned back to be looking at the lake, it was so calming.
  • Noctis then proceeded to sit there in a stunned silence, looking down at his sandwich before placing it to one side. “What?” Before it really hit him, you had misunderstood what he had meant. “Oh… Oh, no. No.” He laughed and shook his head. “No, I meant… I like you… like… really like you.” He huffed, Noctis was making this a lot more complicated than it needed to be.
  • In the next moment Noctis turned to you fully, gently cupping each side of your face and then pulling you close to him, pulling you into a searing kiss, one that took you off guard at first, jolting and pulling away, looking at him as if it was the most outrageous thing in the world. “Oh… Oh~” You began laughing, leaning your head back and shaking your head. “Oh… I get it. You like me.” Finally, you understood and Noctis couldn’t be happier.

Prompto

  • There really was nothing that Prompto was more nervous about than telling you how he truly felt. The poor lad hadn’t had much time to really plan the entire thing, so one night when you were just laying in the long grass, staring up at the stars and moon Prompto decided this would be a fantastic time.
  • A soft hum came from Prompto as he gently rolled onto his side, just taking a moment to gaze at you, take in your beauty under this amazing moonlight and then clearing his throat. “So, uh… I’ve had something I… well, I wanted to talk to you about for a little while…” Jeez, he was really feeling nervous, he could practically hear his heart pounding in his ears.
  • The sound of Prompto’s nervous words from beside you practically startled you from a little nap you had almost fallen into. “Hmm? Oh, sure…” You gently rolled onto your side too, looking across at the golden haired young man, smiling at him in a kind way. You really had enjoyed all the time you had been spending together lately, Prompto was so easy to talk to and somehow made you laugh when you felt like you couldn’t.
  • “So, uh…” He began in a soft squeak that made you smile and nod your head. “So… I… I just wanted to say, whilst, you know… we were alone…” Prompto was really struggling to find his words and it made you giggle and raise your eyebrows, trying to figure out where he was going with this. “I… uh… I like you.” All that hard work for Prompto telling you he liked you, although the young man felt proud he had been able to inform you of the truth.
  • For a moment you just lay there, picking at tiny individual pieces of grass and then smiling at him. “Yeah. I like you too. You’re a really great guy, Prompto. A great friend.” You assured him and that dumbfounded him for a moment, furrowing his blonde eyebrows at you which seemed to make it all sink in.
  • “Oh, oh… you mean? Oh…” Then laughing. “Ohh~” Falling back and laughing for a moment before turning over and gently capturing Prompto by the back of the head, moving him forward and pressing a passionate kiss to his lips, sharing that moment before pulling away. “I get it. I like you too~”

Make a Request

boredgrantaire  asked:

“You asked who I had a crush on and so I described you to a tee but apparently you’re the most oblivious person in the world because you just got kinda sad and nodded and HOW DO YOU NOT GET THIS.” For the headcanon thing with Bromos

This is hilarious because I experienced this prompt myself in the past.

  • Baz and Feuilly are sparring partners, best friends, roommates. They’ve known each other for so long. They’re inseparable, disgustingly domestic, just the bestest of buds you’ll ever see.
  • Except Bahorel is in love with Feuilly.
  • It’s so obvious and everyone knows it. Bahorel knows this - although it did take him a while to figure out that “Yes he’s my best friend and yes I just popped a boner at the sight of him chugging down a bottle of water in nothing but tiny shorts, his pecs shiny with sweat and his hair in a messy bun. What’s so bad about that?” is not a very platonic way to feel about your bro - Bahorel’s mom knows it, all of their friends know it, even Enjolras picked up on it by himself. 
  • Except Feuilly.
  • Feuilly has no idea.
  • It has become sort of an inside joke now, Baz constantly making intense heart-eyes and everyone sharing knowing glances when Courfeyrac snickers. Feuilly is completely oblivious.
  • One day, though, he sheepishly very subtly asks: “So, Bahorel, I hear you have a new boyfriend? How come I’ve never seen him, yet? What’s - ah, what’s he like?
  • Grantaire snorts and Courfeyrac buries his face in the crook of Combeferre’s neck to stiffle his laughter, and Baz is like, you know what, fuck it, I don’t even care anymore so he starts talking before he can stop himself.
  • Oh, he’s just amazing. He has beautiful chestnut hair that he wears in an adorable little bun, he has exactly 147 freckles on his face and some on his back, so cute. He works too hard, though, so we hardly hang out these days, but I admire him. Oh- his hands. His fucking hands. I never knew I had a thing for hands before knowing him. He’s also very strong, and the only person who can kick my ass, to be honest. It’s such a turn on for me. He’s smoking hot. I love him. I love him, man. We’re not dating, though. I just have this massive, embarrassing crush.” 
  • And Feuilly just makes this awful face like a distressed toddler and goes: “Oh… I hope you get together, man.
  • Courfeyrac lets out this blood churning scream and everyone just loses it - even Bahorel is laughing - and Feuilly is really confused for a moment but then he understands.
  • Now he’s blushing, because he thinks he’s being made fun of.
  • It’s five more minutes of ridiculous misunderstanding before Combeferre gets up and wordlessly drags Baz and Feuilly into an empty room to sort things out themselves.
  • This has been the story of how Bahorel and Feuilly had sex for the first time in Enjolras’ bedroom.

Questions we can kind of answer!

Oh man, he’s totally gonna SPOILER and then SPOILER the SPOILER.

I haven’t actually made a sizing chart for them yet, but Chara is approximately 5′ and Asriel is a bit taller, maybe 5′4″?

We have some work in progress showing older Frisk, but they look pretty similar to the way they do now. Just a little taller.

(Does this help?Honestly, none of us mind. Headcanon to your heart’s content.

Personally I think Howl’s English VA is a little too low and husky. And it’s hard to take Howl seriously with his flirty shtick! xD

In this AU, Asriel’s too young! His beard will come in eventually, but it may take a few (hundred) years.

Rigged? No dear anon, that puzzle was perfectly fair.

Reading is on the list, so that counts right? And Chara’s favorite book is Monster History Part 7.

Correct, it is a part of his character design in this AU.

i cant stop thinking about jaal and ryder man here have more feelings w/ the two of them…. I’ll put it under a cut i guess it’s a little long i got carried away hahaha

Keep reading

Of Cats, Bears, and Pizza

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY EVERYONE!!! I’ve gotten a lot of requests on AO3 and from mysme squad to post more dumpster diving related content, so have this thing I made in roughly 8 hours counting breaks lmao… sorry any glaring errors and the TERRIBLE title

this will go on AO3 soon! the sites giving me hell right now, anyway lets get wild


4972 words, just some good Yooran fluff

Keep reading

Thomas Jefferson x Reader - Stupid St Cupid

A/N: I’m lonely and salty. Sue me.


“Morning, [Y/N]!”


You looked up at the sound of Eliza’s voice as she made her way over to you, a stack of files balanced precariously in one hand, coffee in the other. Her sleek hair fell carelessly over her shoulder, a cheerful smile spread across her face.


Mondays were better with Eliza.


“Good morning, Eliza. How are you?”


“I’m fine, thank you. Oh, I heard that Thomas was ill. Is he okay?”


“Thomas? Ill? No, he wouldn’t let anything keep him from insulting Alexander. Where did you hear that from?”


“Philip was talking with one of his friends, and I heard him call Thomas ‘sick af’, whatever ‘af’ means.”


You smiled. Poor Eliza. “Don’t worry, Thomas was fine. How was your weekend?”


“It was pretty good! Alexander was away for the weekend so I visited Angelica and her family.”

“Oh? And how are they?”


Like a teenager with a secret to spill, Eliza (carefully) dropped the items she was holding onto the desk, leaning into you with a massive grin. “Well, don’t tell anyone, but Angelica’s engaged! ”This was new. “Really? Congratulations to her!”


As if you were speaking too loudly, Eliza waved her hands in a shushing movement. “Don’t be so loud! It’s early days yet, early days. But, oh my, you should see the ring!”


“How big?”


“Bigger than anything Alexander would get, put it that way.”


Huge, massive even.


“Speaking of Alexander…”


Pushing your chair back, you kicked your legs up onto your desk, adopting a curious, yet careless look on your face. Hey, those acting classes five years ago weren’t for nothing.


“How is the man? All I’ve heard are new insults for him from the peacock that somehow lives with me.” Eliza rolled her eyes. You both knew of the ongoing feud between the two lawyers - you couldn’t escape it - but it didn’t affect the friendship between you and Eliza. If anything, your relationship was strengthened by it.


“He’s okay. Working much too hard, but what else is new.”


Something was up. Eliza wasn’t meeting your eye, her vision instead shifting from one place to another. “Tell me.”


“I think he may propose soon.”


“Really? Oh, Eliza, you must be so happy! Isn’t this what the two of you always wanted?”


“Yes! Of course it is, but…”


“Tell me, Elizabeth Schuyler.”


“I really don’t trust his ring choice.”


***


Sighing, you lugged the basket from one aching hand to another. After giving Eliza a quick pep talk, you had sent her on her way, carrying on with your work. After the day finally ended, you had come home to discover that Thomas had forgotten to go shopping.


Again.


Grabbing your coat and keys, you ventured forth into the local supermarket, a hastily made list clutched in your hand. “Hmm…”


You stopped by the ice-cream aisle, people milling around you, opening various freezer doors. It was valentine’s day tomorrow, and you seriously doubted that Thomas was going to take you somewhere romantic. Well, lets just say that Thomas’ version of ‘romantic’ was netflix and chill, so chances were you were going to have to take matters into your own hands.


Placing your bulging basket on the tiled floor, you mentally checked that you had everything on your list. After you were sure that everything you needed was in your basket, you immediately pulled open the door to the ice-creams, Angelica’s favourite words echoing in your head.


‘Treat. Yo. Self.’


Now, the question was: cookie dough or brownies?


Actually, why not both?


After much careful deliberation, you threw both cartons into the basket. Hey, you only lived once.


***


Weighed down with tattered plastic bags, you somehow fumbled the door open, almost collapsing into the hallway. Locking the door behind you, the clock on the wall showed 5:53 PM. Thomas should be home by now.


“[Y/N]? You home?”


There he was. “No, it’s a murderer who somehow came into possession of a key to the door. Yes, it’s me.”


Thomas came into the doorway, leaning on the frame like the cocky bastard he was. He raised an eyebrow. “You okay? You look kind of tired.”


Why, oh why, did you expect sympathy from him. “I wouldn’t look this tired if someone had actually done the shopping like they were supposed to.”


“Why are you giving me the evil eye? I was busy.”


“It’s been five days, Thomas! And I know for a fact that you spent each and every one of those nights either ‘staying late’ at work, fighting with Alexander or drinking with James!”


Caught red-handed. Thomas blushed, folding his arms before standing up straighter, as if to be intimidating. After seeing the man freak out over a spider in the shower, his height and build didn’t really seem to scare you. “Well, at least I haven’t been sitting on my ass and watching Netflix all week with a bowl of popcorn. It’s really starting to show, [Y/N].”


You froze. He did not go there. “Oh yeah? Well, it’s not like I argue like a toddler with a fully-grown man just because he doesn’t always agree with everything I say and do. It’s starting to get real old, Thomas.” You spat out your words, the small disagreement beginning to escalate into a full-scale argument.


“You think I’m immature? Yes, because I’m the person who takes every little jab or snub made by a stranger to heart, losing sleep over opinions that don’t matter. Why do you even care?”


“Why do you even care, Thomas?” Tears threatened to fall, but you resolved not cry in front of him, not while you were arguing like this. “You’re not even here most of the time! Always staying late at work, never sparing a thought for the person who cooks your meals even when you come home at midnight, not for the person who cleans everyday and irons your suits and shops every week. You treat me like a maid!”


The two of you were close, both in distance and to losing your patience. The room was hot, the bags of shopping abandoned on the floor. “I treat you damn better than a maid, and you know that. Who pays the bills, staying out late so that you have heating and water and electricity? Who-”


“I have a job too, you know!”


He ignored you. “Who takes you out to parties and clubs, buying you drinks and watching other men look at you like a piece of meat. You want to know why I care, [Y/N]?”


“Yes! Tell me right here, right now. Why do you care?”


“Because I love you!”


There was silence. A small tear escaped, trailing down your cheek. “‘Because you love me’?”


“Yes!”


“Then start showing it.”


***



It had been a long night. In the end, you had banished Thomas to the sofa, fuming with silent anger. He tried many different approaches; intimidating, regretful, even downright begging. But nothing made its way past your cold eyes, glinting with tears. You were adamant.


You tossed and turned all night, thinking (over-analyzing) the events that had taken place earlier that evening. Had you overreacted? Were you being completely unreasonable, forcing Thomas out of the bedroom? Was it all you fault?


Was Thomas falling out of love with you?


You thought about the first day the two of you had met. It was the first day of school, and you, at the ripe age of thirteen, were lost and about to cry. After walking around yet another unidentifiable corner, you, quite literally, bumped into Thomas. Well, into Thomas’ chest. He was tall, even then.


You could see that he was angry, and usually you would be prepared to fight him, but the days events, combined with your now throbbing head, overwhelmed you - and you promptly burst into tears.


Thomas was halfway through his rant when he  finally noticed you sobbing. After choking out what had happened - how you were lost and didn’t know anyone - Thomas took it upon himself to rummage through your brand-new backpack and find out where you were meant to be.


“Hey! Don’t cry anymore!”


One hand rubbing your eyes, you looked up at him, puzzled. “Why? What do you know?”


“You don’t have to be sad anymore! You’re not lonely if you know me, I can introduce you to all my friends! James cries a lot, too. And if you know me - which you do now - you won’t be lost, because I know this school like the back of my hand.”


You mulled over this in your head. Okay, he was cute, and offering to show you around and be your friend, willingly. A tad boastful, but you could work with that. “R-really?”


“Sure! Come on, I’ll show you where we’re meant to be.” With that, he sent a dazzling smile your way, and it was sealed. From that day on, the two of you were inseparable. Partners in everything (apart from P.E, where he went with James), going to the library together, to the cinema, to sleepovers (after you had assured your mother that it was strictly as friends), the full hog.


It was only after a risky party at Alexander’s when the two of you finally kissed - and you ever looked back. That was when you were seventeen. Now twenty-five, grown up (somewhat) and living together, you had been thinking of taking your relationship further. Yes, the two of you had arguments like this, but what good couple didn’t? You weren’t at each other’s necks as often as Thomas and Alexander, but you didn’t feed each other chocolates and make out every five minutes like Peggy and John (who still somehow managed to look cute). You worked together, your personalities, both different in their own right, connecting to make one unstoppable team.


The morning would bring answers. Your eyes closed, sleep allowing you time away from the high-strung emotions of the evening.


***


Okay, forget whatever you thought about last night. After running out the door, desperately hoping to avoid encountering Thomas, you had stopped off at the bakery for some breakfast when someone bumped into you, spilling hot coffee over both you and the man, apologising profusely. You could deal with that; Eliza always kept a spare top around with her. When you finally arrived at work, you found that not only was Eliza away - Alexander had whisked her away for Valentine’s day- but you had double the amount of usual work to do.


So you didn’t have Eliza to gossip to, therefore you weren’t distracted from your work, but you really needed someone to vent to, someone who always had comforting words and good advice. Your boss was in a bad mood all day, and the employees payed for it dearly. When the secretary got her coffee order wrong, the poor woman was screamed at, and everyone else given a final warning. No one dared to cross your boss, not when she had murder in her eyes.

When the long day was finally over, you walked the short distance to the tube station. Not only was your tube half an hour late, but the heavens decided to open and by the time you arrived home, you were soaked to the bone.


In short, your day was pretty crappy. And you were pretty sure it was about to get worse.


Taking a deep breath, you decided to be brave and just go for it, bracing yourself for the lion waiting inside. Turning the door handle, you gingerly pushed open the door, not knowing what was awaiting you.


Stepping inside, only one coherent thought circled your mind: ‘well, this wasn’t what I expected.’


First of all, your apartment smelled of strawberries and cherries. You knew this particular aroma from the candle that Thomas had bought you last Christmas. The sweet scent of berries invaded your senses, immediately making you relax. Dropping your bad onto the small table, you kicked off your shoes, padding into the living room.


Your jaw dropped as you surveyed the room. It was tidy. And best of all, it wasn’t you who had tidied it. Rose petals scattered the surfaces, and the crimson candle burned merrily in the corner, casting an almost magical light over the usually mundane room.


Thomas stood awkwardly in one corner, hands behind his back, a sheepish grin on his face. You raised an eyebrow, a questioning look on your face. “Thomas… What is all of this?”


He walked over to you, and presented you with a beautiful bouquet of flowers - big flowers, small flowers, colourful flowers, everything. “Oh, Thomas…”


Gently placing a finger on your lip to hush you, Thomas set the flowers down, taking you in his arms. “I’m so, so sorry about yesterday, [Y/N]. I was such a jackass, you were tired and I pushed you. I’m sorry I’m always out late at work. Washington has had cuts recently, so we were needed for overtime.”


“Thomas, I’m sorry too. I was being difficult last night. You don’t treat me like a maid, anything but. I know you can’t help your hours, and Alexander can be pretty stubborn sometimes.”


“Try all the time.”


“Okay, maybe. But Thomas, you didn’t have to do all of this.”


“I wanted to. You deserve some pampering, if the coffee stain on your shirt and bags under your eyes are anything to go by.”


What did you seriously expect. “Gee, thanks.”

A small, sweet kiss was placed on the bridge of your nose. “No problem.” You giggled, leaning into Thomas’ warm, comforting arms. “I love you, jackass.”


“I love you too, sweetie.”


You felt like a teenager again as Thomas slowly led you around the room, swaying from side to side, sometimes accidentally stepping on your toes. Soft music played in the background as he twirled and dipped you, looking deep into your eyes. You were blushing madly, allowing yourself to be controlled by Thomas’ tender moves.


Somehow, Thomas made your rumpled, dirty clothes and messy hair into something to be desired, something to be yearned. His warm eyes never left yours, his small smile causing you to blush even more than you thought possible.


You loved him. Plain and simple. Black and white. The two of you were chalk and cheese, yet you somehow loved each other more than anything else.


“Oh, and [Y/]N]?”


“Mmhmm?”


You were disappointed when Thomas’ hands left yours, but your emotions were sent into a frenzy when Thomas dropped onto one knee, a small box being taken out of his pocket.


“You are, quite literally, the most beautiful person I have ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on. You have stuck with me through thick and thin, from school to college to, well, now. Would you give me the absolute pleasure of being my wife?”


“Yes, Thomas. Yes. Yes!”

You were crying as Thomas took you into his arms once more, picking you up and spinning you around. You came back down dizzy, but laughing while tears rolled down your face. Bringing a hand up to his collar, you brought him down for a sweet kiss, a kiss that you wouldn’t forget.

As Thomas gently slipped a beautiful ring onto your finger, you kissed him once more.

You loved him. Damn you, St Cupid. You loved him.

dID yOU mISS mE?

i mISSED yOU. 

vERY mUCH.

Alrighty so ever since @markiplier ‘s Valentine’s Day special came out I’ve been DYING to cosplay Dark!!! So here it is!!! >U< I had a lot of fun with the glitch editing too!! 

When Jack finally made Anti a thing on his channel, I’ve wanted Mark to bring Dark back so badly, and WOW I WAS SO HAPPY WHEN I GOT TO SEE HIM AGAIN!!  OH MAN I WAS SO HAPPY!!!! Everything about the special was so well made and I loved each and every moment and every different outcome. I know they all worked so hard on making it, and it turned out phenomenal. Thank you guys so much for working so hard on everything. It really paid off, and each moment was just amazing!! We all really really do appreciate all the work you do for us, and it means a lot to know how much you care about all of us. Thank you so much. >U<

anonymous asked:

Drunk Kara calls Lena and Lena comes to pick her up

She knows better than to make bets with Winn, but he’d looked so smug—so sure—that Kara had immediately taken him up on the wager, shaking his hand gleefully as she exclaimed that Maggie and Alex would totally be together by the end of the week. Winn had been less conservative and when she makes it back from Barry’s Earth, she’s met with his enthusiastic grin, cheerfully telling her pay up.

And naturally, rather than money, he wants to see the thing that he missed and only experienced via Alex’s vivid descriptions: watching her get drunk.

(It’d have been all right if only he’d remembered to take her phone.)

Keep reading

Lucas/Maya One Shot...Kinda
  • Setting: Outside Topanga's. Lucas enters store, sees Josh with mystery girl in booth, talking close and laughing together, backs to the door. Lucas turns around and stops Maya short in her tracks:
  • Lucas(dodging and blocking her as she tries to look/get past him): Hey! Hey. Hey Hi. How are you?
  • Maya (Confused, annoyed): I’m…fine? I’ll be better once I get my smoothie though, so if you’ll just kindly move out of my way-
  • Lucas (Physically blocking her again, coaxing her like a child): -Orrrr maybe we could go get ice cream. You like ice cream, right? Yea? Come on, you know you do….mint chip? Chocolate? Strawberry with fudge? Isn't that your favorite? Great so let’s go then-
  • Maya(Increasingly annoyed): No-get off me Huckleberry I don’t want ice cream, I want a smoothie. “Lets go get a smoothie” means let’s get a smoothie not let’s get to the place where they sell the smoothies then decide to go get ice cream.
  • : Gives him strange look as she passes:
  • You are SUCH a freak sometimes…
  • Lucas(to himself): Nobody ever listens to the freak.
  • : Lucas follows Maya inside
  • Maya (Has spotted Josh, stopped short): Oh. So that’s why you didn’t want me to come in.
  • : Maya turns and walks back outside, Lucas follows:
  • Lucas: Maya, I…
  • Maya (Shaking her head): You know what? It’s fine.. We said the long game, didn’t we? We never said right now. If he want’s to…talk with someone else then that’s just part of the deal we made. It doesn’t mean anything changes between us, right?
  • Lucas: I-I don't know...
  • Maya (tearing up, desperately): No I’m right Lucas, say I’m right... You’re Mr. Moral Compass you know the difference between right and wrong, tell me that it’s fine he’s in there with some other girl and that it doesn’t change anything.
  • Lucas (Beat): …Okay. It doesn’t change anything then.
  • Maya (Wiping tears, fake chuckling): Great. So…How about ice cream?
  • Lucas (Looking back into Topanga's): Sure. Good idea. Just… give me a sec, OK?
  • Maya: You’re not gonna try and be a hero are you, cowboy? Because he’s obviously…busy and I don’t need to go bothering him-
  • Lucas: -I just need to use the little boys room, is that allowed?
  • Maya: …Oh. Ok. Gross.
  • : Maya exits up stairs:
  • : Lucas enters, taps shoulder of Josh:
  • Josh: …Lucas? Uh, hi, whats up man, how’s it going-
  • Lucas: -How could you do this?
  • Josh: Do what?
  • Lucas(gesturing at Josh and girl): This, how could you possibly do this to Maya?
  • Josh(Gesturing towards girl): Dude!
  • : Josh gets up and pulls Lucas aside:
  • Maya and I had an understanding-
  • Lucas: Yea? Did your understanding include her coming in here to see you sitting with another girl, again, and then go running out of here crying...AGAIN?
  • Josh: I...I didn’t know she would be here-
  • Lucas: -You didn’t know she would show up at a place she goes almost every day after school?
  • Josh: Well I didn’t think-
  • Lucas: -You didn't think.
  • Josh: Ok hey, wait a second, that's not very fair. I TOLD Maya she should focus on the now, that we both needed to live our lives.
  • Lucas: Do you think that makes any kind of difference when she walks in here and sees something like this?
  • Josh: It wasn’t like I was trying to hurt her. It was an honest mistake-but you know, Mr. Western Hero, you sure are getting pretty heated about something that isn't really your concern.
  • : Maya enters, standing watching, Lucas and Josh don't notice:
  • Lucas: Except it does concern me. Because I care about Maya…a LOT. She's one of my best friends and the most selfless person I know. She would do anything to make the people she loves happy and she deserves someone who can give that back to her.
  • Josh: I want to see her happy.
  • Lucas: Do you? Cause if I were you I would-
  • Josh: But you're not me.
  • Lucas: Nope. I'm not.
  • : Stares at ground, long beat, thinking/hesitating, launches into speech:
  • Do you even see the real her? Or really know her at all? How unbelievably beautiful, creative, and funny she is? Not to mention brave? Do you? Because if you don’t Josh? Walk away. Walk away now. Maya doesn’t need any more reasons to feel broken. And she definitely doesn’t need to get caught up in waiting around for some guy who isn’t going to take her feelings seriously. She needs someone who is going to appreciate how special she is.
  • Josh: And who is that someone supposed to be? You, Lucas? That person is supposed to be you?
  • Lucas: I didn’t say that-
  • Josh: -You CHOSE Riley. Not Maya. Riley. Or do you not remember that?
  • Lucas: Of course I remember, but that doesn’t mean-
  • Josh: -That you don’t like her?
  • Lucas: This isn’t about me this is about Maya-
  • Josh: -Oh no I think this is definitely about you too, man. You still like her…You still like her a lot.
  • : Lucas stares at Josh, they don’t break gaze:
  • Lucas (Gets serious, close to Joshs face, quietly and fiercely): All I know, is that if I see her cry over you one more time, I might have to ruin the reputation I’ve worked so hard to get around here. And I’d rather not do that. So how about you just do whatever it takes to fix this and save us all the trouble.
  • : Josh looks past Lucas, sees Maya. Lucas catches his gaze, turns around to see Maya there:
  • Maya: Lucas…I-
  • : Lucas gives one last glare at Josh, storms out past Maya. Maya stares in disbelief for a second, then follows him out:
  • Maya: Lucas!
  • : Lucas turns around on the stairs:
  • Maya: ….Thank you? What you said, I mean, I didn't think you-
  • Lucas(Shrugging): Don't mention it. It was nothing.
  • : Lucas exits:
  • Maya(to herself, confused): It was definitely something.
Punchline.

It never fails to make me happy, that my husband thinks I am funny. Not just “ha ha you’re adorable”, but in the way where I can render him gasping for breath with tears streaming down his face Funny. And he tells people too, at every given opportunity. He’s proud of me, immensely so, and it makes my little heart sing because I was always told this would never happen.

My mother always told me that boys don’t like funny girls. They especially don’t like girls that are funnier than them. Boys don’t like a lot of things, according to my mother. They don’t like sluts but they also don’t like prudes, and they don’t marry bimbos, but they also don’t want someone too clever either. Because you’re life is supposed to be a supporting act. You can be funny, but you are part of a duo. You are the cheap laugh to his comedic genius, the assistant fluttering the feathers to distract everyone from his slight of hand.

And it makes me sad because my father—a profoundly funny man—agrees with her. Oh women can be funny of course, but not because they are quick or witty, but because they are laughable. The fact that I work hard at my craft is irrelevant, explained away by an anomaly of chance and luck, and as he so often says with an buff of his nails on his imaginary lapels, genetics—empirical proof that some men will try to take credit for whatever you do, even if their last worthy contribution was sometime post utero, but mostly prior.

A sentiment many men in my life feel the need to reiterate as they comment on my facebook with things like “wow you sure are something” or “where did you get that line from” as though it could never have come from my own pretty little head.

Which is hurtful, to say the least. Insulting as middle ground and at worst a broken record stuck on repeat for the last thirty years of my life.

So the next time you think about sending me a message that says “wow you’re really funny for a woman” I would like you to reconsider your outlook on life, and whether or not it might be better improved by first removing your head from your arse.

vlightndarkv  asked:

So I stumbled across your Inferno au last night and holy crap I've never hit the follow button so fast before. Your art is absolutely STUNNING, you can see the time and effort that was put into it. That panel with Yuri? *whistles* I want that as a poster on my wall. This story sounds AMAZING and I can't wait to see how it all plays out.

Oh man, thank you so much! ;A; Inferno is definitely my biggest baby for this fandom, but it’s so incredibly labor intensive that it’s hard to churn out new chapters ^ ^; Hopefully the next chapter won’t take too much longer >.>;;; Thank you so much for liking my work and for sending in this ask!! ;A;

college/uni tips

edit: this is based on my experience as a science student, where we have big classrooms. If this doesn’t apply to your school or faculty, keep in mind some points may not apply.

since I’m actually finishing up my first year of uni, I thought I’d make a list of things I came to know.. most of which I had not expected before I entered.

  • 8 or 9 am classes suck, but you get used to it. 
    • You will have days where you feel too sleepy, or where you skip (those days), but if you stick with it for the first 2 or 3 weeks, it becomes a habit. Now that my classes ended, I still wake up at 7 am without an alarm, lol.
  • Taking classes that are only once a week can actually be nice because you get more time to catch up.
    • Most people assume it will be a waste of time, but the weeks go by fast, trust me.
  • Go to lectures up until the midterm, then trust yourself to know whether or not you need it.
    • If you feel it didn’t help you at all with your midterm, you’ll know you can skip more or use the time to study independently
  • Go to the last few (1-2) lectures before an exam
    • Profs love to use that time to give you big hints or review for the trick questions on the exam, knowing that most students skip them
  • If you have (an) upcoming exam(s), don’t skip all your lectures just to study
    • I know it seems ideal, but 9 times out of 10 you end up not using all of that time anyway, and you just get more material to catch up on afterwards. Which is a pain, and you will regret not going for that one hour lecture.
  • Study groups are helpful, but don’t depend on them too much
    • I’ve had several instances where people in the group refused to give answers because they studied harder or some shit
    • Sometimes no one actually contributes so it gets awkward
    • Most times it gets turned into a social meeting
  • Talk to profs… but know which ones to talk to
    • I see this advice a lot, but it doesn’t always apply. In many social or art courses (essay courses, etc) it’s better to contact the TA if you have one. TAs answer faster and can give you better tips. 
    • In other courses, like maths, GOING TO OFFICE HOURS IS HELPFUL. The profs and TAs are willing to solve questions with you and give you tips and shortcuts.
  • Join facebook groups for your course. 
    • Lol this is how I passed probably. They posted answers for stuff, and it was monitored by our TAs. So TAs helped us as well as other students
    • Also don’t be afraid to speak to someone near u in class or lab to ask for an answer
  • You can do better than you think
    • Seriously
    • If you see something you don’t get, try. Most times it will click in your head after a while
  • Don’t stress yourself too much
    • Easy to say, hard to do. But it’s true. Especially for first year, you have a much more flexible average. I got a 30% on my physics final, which was worth 46% of my grade, and finished with a 72 in the course.
  • But don’t go too easy
    • You should try. Seriously. It’s hard but at least you tried. When you do bad, you won’t think “oh God, if only I bothered to do blah” instead you’ll be like “whatever man I did what I could”
  • Don’t give yourself too much free time
    • This is personal, but for me, I don’t focus if I have too much time. I need to have like 10 things at a time so I can actually work, lol, even if it stresses me a lot. If this doesn’t work for you––you know better!! c: