#eventually i realized i was going to drive myself mad because i know only the basics of spanish and even less of japanese

[merge-conflict]

wip wednesday

got tagged by @wanderingaldecaldo :3

been.. well not exactly procrastinating on the longfic. some of what i've been doing is working on some sequel scenes so I can anchor where everyone is going to end up and make sure I haven't forgotten to add any threads I'm going to want to use later. so with the knowledge that this scene will almost certainly not survive in its current form when I get there...

---

V returned with the woman who had met her at the ofrenda– his interface confirmed what he already knew– it was Guadalupe Alejandra Welles herself. She was smaller than he had expected, but it would be a mistake to underestimate her, he was certain. A woman who had suffered the loss of her son in an assault on Arasaka and was bold enough to then track him down and demand that loss be honored was not someone to to be taken lightly. He rose to his feet to greet them.

“Mamá,” V said, speaking Spanish in a low, soft tone he’d never heard from her before. “This is Takemura.”

“Escorted you personally?” Guadalupe regarded him with restrained disapproval. “What a gentleman.”

“A perfect gentleman,” V said, a faint smile forming on her lips.

“It is good to meet you,” Goro said, with a polite bow.

Guadalupe made a dismissive gesture, switching to English. “There’s only one thing I need to know: were you the one that killed my son?” She held his gaze without flinching.

“No,” he said. “We did not meet.”

“Good.” She relaxed, and in so doing gave him a glimpse of the exhausted and grieving woman underneath her steely composure. V looked mortified and miserable with guilt, and she added more gently, “Sit down, mije.”

V looked to Goro and he moved instinctively, gently guiding her to sit down at the bench he had just vacated. Her hand on his wrist lingered, the barest pressure pulling him down along beside her: gravity which he did not want to escape. She leaned in and pressed her forehead against his, jaw clamped together so tightly he heard her teeth creaking. He wanted to reassure her that she did not have to hide her tears, but did not trust his voice.

“Jesucristo. You’re as big a fool as Jackie. Bigger.”

[mrsriddlenott]

I just had this random thought of AngryBF!Harry x Fem!reader where she helps him through his anger in many ways.

masterlist

Warnings: Smut. Anger. Aggressive Sex. Regular 5th year “angst”.

“I just can’t get a break. I went all summer without a scrap of news, I’m behind on all my class work, and now Ron and Hermione seem to think I’m a bloody DADA teacher.” You and Harry sat on the edge of his bed as Harry held his head in his hands ranting. “It was all luck, why cant they get that. It’s not like I have any control over my life and when I’ll be attacked next.”

You and Harry had only been dating since the Yule Ball but were serious nonetheless. When he would need comfort after the death of Cedric Diggory and when no one could properly owl him, you were there. You were the guide that kept him from making too much of a scene, but with Umbridge pushing Harry every second with detention after detention, and denying every part of what happened last year, Harry was on edge even with you.

“Harry, you have to see where they’re coming from don’t you?”

“Not you too! Merlin of all people I thought you’d understand y/n!” Harry snapped often these days, you knew it wasn’t necessarily his words, you just wished he could calm down.

“I do understand Harry, but if I’m not going to be of any help, I’ll just go.”

“No y/n/n, you know thats not what I meant. I just can’t get even a bit of control anymore and it’s driving me mad.” And with that, you suddenly had an idea.

“Well, I can think of ways you can gain control cant you?” At the change in your tone Harry finally lifted his head to see you.

“What are you implying Darling?” His narrowing eyes were already dark with anger and he seemed unable to focus.

“Well I was thinking, next time you’re all strung out like this, you can always come to me. Don’t sit and yell at Umbridge just to get stuck in detention when you could be spending your time with me, Love.”

“Yeah, I like that idea y/n” Harry didn’t take a second to think it over as he seemed to light up with a bright smile, already over his prior annoyances.

At first it wasn’t anything inappropriate, after classes Harry would often storm into your dorm or pull you into his, already yelling about a DA meeting or something Snape or Umbridge did. You’d simply talk and cuddle until he was okay. Eventually Harry realized just how distracting kissing you was and before long would have you pinned to a wall with his lips on your neck at least once a week. When he had noticed how exhilarating it felt to be able to grab you from anywhere in the castle and drag you to his dorm just because he was mad, he simply couldn’t stop. He absolutely adored when you’d let go of control just for him.

And thats how you ended up here, on hands and knees in front of your very angry boyfriend.

“No one ever fucking listens, no one lets me speak…except you of course, hands.” His voice softened as he spoke directly to you. While you laid your hands on your naked back, laying yourself forward onto his bed, Harry took both your hands in one of his as the other lined himself up at your entrance, slowly letting his tip ease into you.

“I have less and less time for myself, I just want to be able to do what I want whenever I want,” Without warning Harry slammed into you fully, pushing himself forward and resting his bare chest on your back, lips next to your ear as he spoke, “That’s you of course.”

“Are you okay still? You remember what to say if you don’t want to continue, yes?” You nodded your head from where it was on his pillow, “Words Darling.”

“Yes, I say Snitch.” You were breathless already as you uncontrollably clenched around him, forcing a sharp sigh from the boy above you.

“Good girl” Harry whispered as he started an unrelenting pace, straightening himself and pushing your abdomen down with his hand on yours.

“You’re perfect y’know that? Bloody perfect stress reliever you are.” He laughed softly as his free hand roamed up and down your side.

He was pounding into you so hard his bed shook and the curtains began to part on their own. The sound of wet skin slapping together and your moans of Harry’s name filled the room.

He drove into you with force you had never felt before, he was quickly forcing you into your orgasm as his pace remained fast and hard against your g-spot.

“Fuck I wann- Ahh Fuck y/n I wanna look at you when I come.” Harry released your hands and held your waist tightly as he flipped you around plowing himself back in as if he never left.

Harry smoothed the hair off your sweaty forehead, keeping eye contact and smiling softly, before bending down to kiss you aggressively on the lips. His and your own moans being drowned by each others lips as he came inside you, your juices mixing as they slid out around him.

“Fuck, I’ve needed this all week,” Harry sighed breathlessly as he rested his head on your chest, not making any attempt of pulling out. As he yawned, you slipped your fingers through his messy hair smiling and breathing heavily, “I love you Harry”

“I love you too Darling”

~~

Feedback??

Requests??

[artpoint420]

Alright, so if you’re a fan of the Animaniacs here on Tumblr, you probably understand that all three of the Warner’s are most likely neurodivergent, and Dr. Scratchansniff trying to “cure” them of their “zanyness” is an example of abelism (as well as the rest of the humans who want to lock them up.)

BUT WHAT IF I TOLD YOU

I think Dr. Scratchansniff himself may be autistic, and here’s why:

First of all, he is a psychiatrist who has been with the Warner’s for sometime and doesn’t seem to realize the Warner’s are neurodivergent (most likely ADHD and autism in all three of them.)

He gets overwhelmed by the Warners when they throw off his plans and his schedule.

Those on the autism spectrum tend to prefer following a set schedule and doing this according to a plan. When this plan is interrupted we get upset. For Scratchy this may be when the Warners are being to hyperactive and hyperimaginative for them to even want to answer his questions. I get that the joke is supposed to be that he’s a psychiatrist driven insane by the Warners but for me the best way to describe feeling overstimulated is “being driven insane by everything around me”

He also tends to get overstimulated, particularly in “I’M MAD!” when the Warners are bickering in the car while he’s trying to drive. Of course most people struggle to drive with tons of background noise. This just sticks out to me, even though it isn’t the first time.

Also, special interests. Scratchy definitely has special interests that he seems to get lost in. Psychiatry is a special interest of his, obviously. Once he starts having appointments with the Warners everyday, we get to see that the Warners are consistently on his mind (just like how they are always on my mind because special interest yes). Part of this may be because he gradually took on a more parental role towards them, but this could also be because he began to develop a special interest in caring for them. Perhaps his own neurodivergence is the reason he was able to eventually sympathize and care for the Warners.

If you read the Animanicas comics, there is an issue, were we see Scratchy reading a comic in his spare time. This is particularly interesting because not only are those on the spectrum more prone to develop and interest in comics, but when he begins to talk about comics to the Warner’s he knows the entire history of comics down to a tee. He begins to infodump onto the Warners and doesn’t realize when they are annoyed or bored because for some reason they find the history of comics boring. Scratch that, HE BECOMES SO ABSORBED IN IT, HE DOESN’T REALIZE WHEN THE WARNERS LEAVE.

Wrestling is probably a special interest of his too, as well as psychology of course.

Also, like I mentioned earlier, he obvious struggles with anxiety, a mental disorder those on the autism spectrum are more likely to develop due to social and communciation issues and the after effects of overstimulation. This can be observed in his body language and how he reacts to Plotz as well, causing him to become a pushover to his boss.

He also age regresses when he is overly stressed out and even has a comfort object (something that I’ve personally observed in others on the autism spectrum and have experienced myself to a certain degree, I’m still not sure if it’s always autism related though)

In the reboot it’s revealed he waited 20 years just to prank the Warners. The prank seems to have become a special interest and they should have done more with Reboot Scratchy.

Going back and watching episodes with Scratchy with this in mind, his behaviors and general attitude towards the Warners makes a TON of sense. He’s annoyed by them but ultimately wants to get along with them.

To me it makes Dad! Scatchansniff even more wholesome. It’ll never happen but one day I’d love to see an episode where he just accepts the Warners for who they are and perhaps, in the process, accepting himself a little more.

[usedtobekrampus]

Had to get iup in the middle of the night and write this one down, I don't have anywhere else to

I just had a dream where me (played by Timmy Solidarity) and my dad were on a cross country road trip in the middle of winter in a red van, and he was driving really crazy. I was in third person, but i could still feel my legs hitting trees astraly.

meanwhile a plane has been highjacked by its own pilot and is on a joy ride, slowly getting more and more damaged, but all the plane segmens look 3D animated for some reason.

the van eventually stops in a very small town with no snow, like its literally about 16 houses max, only one of the two roads is paved, and we all both get out and go to a block party.

The plain has taken a blow to the windshield and needs to land, so they emergency land/crash right towards the town.

But it touches down on a hill, the unpaved road in fact, so the crash is pretty tame and there was a stressful moment where I didn't know if the plane would stop in time. It fell apart and there was a POV shot of a chunk skidding towards the party, but it was reveled to be just a cardboard box.

At the party, I follow my dad around the side of the building where he starts picking up handfuls of toads from a pile and tossing them on the roof. And they were casualy getting down but there was a bunch of snakes up there as well that kept grabing the toads as they jumped of the roof, so it ended up with them sort creating a stalactite of snakes and toads that was at a near perfect diagonal.

my brother reached out for it Michaelangelo's Creation stye, but at the end of it was a small alligator which tried to bite his hand.

Than the dream shifted and I woke myself up because I was mad about a reddit poast where someone realized that by complete coincidence, they had suplexed the same ostrich twice in their life.

[josiedoe]

funny weird fursona from ages past hours while i wanna take this opportunity to share my art, i kinda also wanna reach out to everybody who had cringy neon old fursonas and oc's that they're embarrassed of or feel like they need to shittalk every time they mention them bc "theyre totally better at making characters now i swear!" this is my fursona splash. i've changed sonas a few times, but none of them will be as important to me as her. she's not there yet, but next year in february, on my birthday, she will be 9 years old. i made her feb 22nd of 2015, my 9th birthday. i stopped using her eventually, because i thought i'd grown out of her. i used to show her to people and laugh about how stereotypical of a mary sue she was, how she had a demon AND angel form, how i'd ship her with characters from whatever media i was interested in at the time, how she had super secret sparkle powers that could do anything and how she's "not me anymore" then i remembered how crushed i felt when my friends at the time first started calling her one. i was knee deep at that point in thinking mary sues were dumb, and felt really bad about it when a friend said she was a huge mary sue and how i should probably change her. they even got mad when i said i didnt want to and told me i "couldn't take criticism". ive tried so hard over the years to distance myself from her while trying not to be too hard on her, to enjoy her in an "ironic, more experienced way" and regard her as what NOT to do.

this is the first ever drawing i did of her. another oc of mine turns 9 on my bday, and ill do art of her too, but this is where i made her. she was a drawing of firestar that i got bored drawing and decided to slap some neons on from the ms paint advanced preset colors. as you can see, she hasn't really changed much. her name used to be colordrop, because i had a stuffed bunny around that time with the same name. i think i renamed her to splash because i liked splashkittyartist. is the art good? no. did i really care? not really! i didnt even know it was bad at the time, because it honestly wasn't. i just wasn't as far in my art journey as i am now. im glad i never deleted my deviantart account, and i plan at some point to go through and save the images that are important to me on a google drive of some kind. aslong as im able to remember and keep her, she's an important part of myself. she's still me, just from a different time, and also so much more than that. im not sad about her, not in a nostalgic "i wish i could go back way". im happy, if anything, because i only recently realized we shared a birthday. isn't that cool? to not only have an oc that was made on your birthday, but reaches milestones with you? when she turns 18, i'll be 27. when she's 27, i'll be 36. i think that's pretty neat. i think it's important for every artist, if they struggle with this, to look for their old oc's and fursonas and whatnot from when they were kids and instead of looking at them through a lens of "im better now, do you see how bad i used to be at this whole character making thing though? its funny.", instead be kind to your old creations and go "wow, i had alot of fun with you. i wonder if i can have even more." if you're able to, start using them again. write with them again, even if its small and silly and more out of whimsy and joy than actual plot development. i implore you to be kinder to kid you. even if kid you wasn't very kind themselves. if you would look at another kids drawing and oc and go "wow thats amazing! you're so creative!", then you should regard what you made then with the same enthusiasm. put your own work on the fridge if nobody else did. anyways, ramble over. i'm very passionate about this subject because i lived it, and i deeply enjoy reclaiming what i was made to feel embarrassed of. so moon darkraven, demon wolf with an anime scythe and scene bangs and red eyes and neon colors that don't mix, i think you're doing great. i hope you're doing well, wherever you are now, and that so is the person who made you. happy early birthday to me and my special little gal

[fuck-customers]

fuck coworkers - submitted at 2:26 am, the 23rd of October, 2022

i’ve been at my cafe for a year and a half now. in may i went on vacation for five days and the store practically fell apart without me, and they realized they needed to hire someone for more than the two days a week i don’t work. the new guy is a shit person, and lo and behold, a transphobe. i am trans, mind you, as is he. he just thinks some awful things about trans people, who unless they are trans like he is, they aren’t trans in his eyes.

so. 8 am this past tuesday, i walked in for my seven hour shift to find he was already there. he started making snide commentary about me, and god above have i tried being kind to him. i try so damn hard to be kind to him. we have the same favorite band so i tried talking about that with him. i was doing two-three jobs at once while he stood around and whined about how he wanted to go on break, or played on his phone, but i tried being nice. then he started his transphobic crap. to me. who he knows is trans. about trans people like me. who are ‘wrong’ in his mind. because i am not a binary trans person. i walked away and he followed me asking for a ‘civil’ conversation and wouldn’t leave me alone when i asked him to. a manager eventually had to step in and tell him to stop.

i eventually was sent on break myself, and i took that time to relax and not think- because damn i needed to not. when i clocked back in, i went back to drive thru to take orders- only for one of my coworkers to pull me aside and tell me that he was telling everyone i was mad at him for no reason and was incredibly rude to him. she had witnessed the fight and knew how close i was to having a meltdown so she told me she was taking his headset, the angel that she is, and i went back to work.

the end of his shift came and he told me, to my face, that i need therapy because i am a ‘very unhappy’ and ‘anxious’ person. he doesn’t know me. he doesn’t know how much i have struggled with depression and anxiety, he doesn’t know me. he doesn’t know that the me he sees at work is grumpy because of him, he doesn’t see that when i’m not around him i’m happy and jovial and whatever- he just sees me angry and tired of his shit. when i brought this all up with my best friend i was told i am anxious, yes, but i’m better than i was a year ago, after eight months on an anti anxiety medication.

fuck him, and fuck his stupid opinions. could he have just decided to not? at least at work? when i’m working? i know he doesn’t do jack shit but like. other people are working and don’t have time to listen to whiny little boys complain about how wrong nonbinary people are.

[running-on-a-broken-record]

Poor Hermit! Hopefully he can eventually sleep it off.

What does Madpat do when officers enter his restaurant. Just to eat or for important business, it’s completely up to you!

(Absolutely adoring this blog btw)

Thank you 🩷

I have actually wondered this myself so I have an… almost uncomfortable amount of detail for this one. I would say I’m sorry but I’m not :)

Initially, he’s definitely going to be freaked out. We see how in Web of Lies, the restaurant isn’t exactly… clean of evidence, so even a small inspection is bound to reveal a little bit of the crimes that have been committed in that maze of halls (please say I’m clever for that reference I really try 😭)

The police officers are there on their lunch break, just hanging out, hoping to check out the restaurant that they’ve heard has good pizza, so long as you overlook the mess (but hey, it’s a children’s restaurant, what’re you gonna do?)

They’re still in uniform for their break, so as soon as Mad sees them, he thinks they’re out to get him. A million possibilities run through his mind. Did he let something slip??

He watches them, kind of stalker-like, just to see what they’re doing, and when they find an open seat and sit down, just the three of them, he’s relieved.

Before he realizes that can be just as dangerous if they see something they shouldn’t.

He takes the time to introduce himself, welcome them to the restaurant, ask what their business is— just to be absolutely certain that they aren’t here for anything malicious.

He refuses to let any other employees speak to the group. He and only he is allowed to approach them, no matter what. The employees know too much. And he can’t trust them to be smart enough to shut their mouths.

He tries to hide his feelings about the police in the pizzeria, but he isn’t exactly stellar at it. Especially with how much he wants them out, before they find something they shouldn’t. Even still, he provides decent customer service as the owner of the place.

Got to keep up a good reputation. But not good enough for them to come back. Like, ever.

I can see him giving them the worst pizza they have at the time so they dislike it and decide the place is a dump, but I doubt he’d go so far as to mess up the order completely.

Unless he was really desperate to get them out. Which, honestly, he could be.

He’s very, very snappy with the staff while the officers are in the building. They’re used to him being stern about keeping a good reputation for the restaurant— gotta keep bringing in customers— but when he’s stressed like this? They make one mistake and they’re as good as dead.

(They better pray he won’t kill them, because we know he can 🙏🏻)

But anyway. When he finally, finally gets them out, his anxiety goes away, but his paranoia does not. For the next couple days, maybe a week, he’s convinced that they saw something. A tiny blood stain on a wall, something just… off about the animatronics, really anything.

Every day, every time someone walks in the door, he has to look to see who it is because he’s convinced the cops are back and they’re coming to arrest him. The other workers get rather freaked out when he just stares at the door for long periods of time. (When I tell you he’s paranoid, I mean it)

It almost definitely drives him mad (I am so funny) and he thinks about, uh… having another kid go “missing”, before the logical part of his brain takes over and realizes that is just one more thing that will give the cops reason to come back for something more than just a lunch break visit.

And then, when he doesn’t see them back again for a while, he returns to his regular schedule. The employees, if no one else, are glad he’s back to normal.

Maybe, just maybe, after another week or so of no unsolicited police visits, he’ll let out all his frustration from that week and finally have his way with the chainsaw.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Remembering my grandpa: the coolest guy I've ever met

so, like, still haven't processed what happened. that's honestly pretty typical for me, it's something I used to feel really guilty about (everybody around me would be crying, and I wouldn't actually feel those emotions for upwards of a year), and I've gotten better at addressing what's under the surface before it gets to the point of a breakdown. there are several reasons for why my biggest personal metaphor for grief is as follows

our love is a garden; this grief is a seed

mostly been keeping myself busy, just cleaned most of the kitchen in one go, probably going to clean my room later today. also been thinking a lot about how incredibly cool my grandpa was. he's genuinely one of the most rad people I've ever had the chance to meet, and I don't even know all of his stories!!! just gonna ramble about him for a bit

dropped out of high school (and later got his GED) because WW2 was happening and he enlisted (either lied about his age or was just barely old enough). got recognition for his marksmanship skills, and (forgive me for not knowing his official rank/title) even ended up being a sort of guard for a high ranking officer. I remember being told that when they had to drive somewhere, Gramps was the guy with a scoped rifle keeping an eye out for trouble, ready to counter ambushes or something like that.

(the point is that I haven't heard the details since I was a kid, but his rifle skills were incredible, especially considering his age at the time)

known for drinking Respect Women Juice and being a stand-up guy. I've read some of his memoirs (not published, but they might be at some point, I'll let y'all know), and he talks about how mad he was at my grandma's dad (his eventual father-in-law) because the FIL was soooo excited to have "man time" with Gramps, after already having treated Grandma like the son he would have preferred, and Gramps couldn't understand why FIL wasn't appreciating the incredible woman that Grandma was. seriously, Grandma was also a badass, an equally incredible sharpshooter who only quit competing (having reached the highest level for women in the US) because she realized in order to keep winning she'd have to actually put time and effort into getting better. also she was a great cook, apparently. had a real temper tho

Anyway, there's also some other stuff about his respect for women, but that involves a bit of family drama with other relatives that I don't want to get into online. The gist is that he went out of his way to make sure that several women in the family got treated fairly, especially when some people weren't properly appreciating the work of a stay-at-home mom.

He was an active scuba diver for many, many years, and several of his longest friends were met via the hobby. at one point, he even worked with several of them to buy a large amount of land on San Juan Island (of the San Juan Islands), where they divided it up and all built houses together. I have many memories of going to visit during the summer, and honestly it was really impressive what they built together. Grandpa also loved kayaking, and even dabbled in making kayaks!

Putting more under the break because I recognize this is lot

In order to get to San Juan Island, most people take a big ol ferry. during an incident that got a fair bit of coverage in the local newspapers, my Grandpa was taking the ferry when he realized someone in the distance was in trouble (small boat, might have gotten flipped or something, again don't remember all the details). Grandpa was quick to take action, got the attention of the ferry's crew, and was able to arrange a rescue. If he hadn't noticed the boat, chances are the person/people would have died.

Gramps was very active even up into his mid-to-late eighties (genuinely very fit and healthy until his kidneys started failing), and had some fun ventures as part of a historical group that went around the San Juan Islands finding old map markers/territory markers (god, I wish I remember the right word) and using modern tech to record their exact locations. It was like a scavenger hunt, almost, using old/outdated maps to find these things.

He was also an official boat inspector for Friday Harbor (the main part of San Juan Island) for several years, and was recognized for his hard work/the sheer number of inspections he did.

On top of all of this, my Grandpa was genuinely one of the warmest, funniest guys around. If someone asked me to think of an example of healthy romantic love, I would think about my Grandpa and my step-grandma. Then I'd think about my brother and his gf but that's a whole other thing. Grandpa was full of love, and had no qualms with showing it, using his musical talent for serenading her (he also joined in during the family gathering jam sessions). The way he looked at her will be forever engraved in my memory, full of love and full of life.

There are plenty more stories about Grandpa, some of which I just never heard, and some of which I have simply forgotten. I'm gonna miss him.

[romantic-reveries]

Today was way more emotionally taxing than I would’ve expected, considering.

I spent the day with him. And it was fantastic and lovely and everything I wanted it to be except the part where we (he) is still no closer to figuring out the future. I thought… I thought that’s what this trip was for.

He brought it up before we even kissed. I’d been feeling it all day, and I thought it was the same fear of abandonment I’d been contending with all week that had me fighting the urge tooth and nail not to call it off. But he asked how I saw this—us—working. I don’t know, so I asked him. He said him not wanting to do long distance is hard, and me not driving makes it even harder. When I mentioned my grandma would drive me—she did with my ex, or met him halfway—he said that was a big ask. And he’s not wrong, but… that’s the only way it would work. I like to hope I’ll drive at some point, and maybe that’s motivation to try harder to overcome the fear, but… I mean, even if I drove, you have to drive through Atlanta to get to him, and that’s a huge ask for someone who has spent this long terrified of driving. If he lived on this side of Atlanta, maybe.

I mostly don’t understand, though. He knew that before he came. I didn’t hide it from him. He made it sound like we needed to talk about it in person, like he wanted to see what the commute was like, see if it was the same in person as it has been on the phone, but there isn’t much to say to that—him not wanting it and it being inconvenient seems pretty unmalleable. So why did he come? What was the point? When we talked about us meeting, it was always in the context of it being the next logical step to figure things out, except nothing changed, so why did we do it? And it wasn’t even a sexual thing, because he didn’t even originally plan on coming to my house, and even when he did, we didn’t go past fully clothed heavy petting.

And it’s funny, because when my grandma (bless her) asked if he’d be back, he intentionally didn’t answer, only said, “it’s not that far” in agreement with her, but when she asked previously how the trip was, he’d said “it won’t be that bad to make”, won’t, as if him coming back was a foregone thing.

I spent half the day wanting to cry because of the haunting feeling I was already carrying that I’ll never actually see him again. That this was just one beautiful day. And I kept reminding myself—he’s here now. Soak it up, be in the moment, enjoy it for what it is, and even if this is all it is, it was still good. Important. It’s fundamentally changed me, I think. Made me realize that men like him do exist. Who are consistent and stable and patient and kind.

But the thing is, multiple times today, I thought: I could do this forever. I’ve never wanted someone like that before, even guys I thought I was crazy about. He just feels like home. He’s somehow become my best friend. I don’t know if I’m in love with him, but I think I’m falling in love with him, and I’m fucking terrified.

Because if those guys I’ve fancied myself infatuated with before, who gave me nothing—if they hurt me? He has the ability to absolutely shatter me. I can’t imagine the kind of pain that would bring. The idea of continuing this… we both want each other and we flirt and we’re sexual with each other but nothing more is going to happen? The idea of him eventually getting back on dating apps and actively trying to date other people? Makes me sick to even consider.

And the worst part is, I couldn’t even be mad at him. I can’t blame him for wanting someone he can see daily if he wants to, and really, he deserves better than me anyway. Someone more stable. Someone who has their shit together. He’s such a wonderful person. He might be one of the best, kindest people I’ve ever met. And I’m lucky to know him, to have had him at all, even in this small capacity.

And even after spending all day with me, as he was leaving, I said I hoped he had a safe trip, and he said he’d text me when he got home. Then he said, “actually, you can call. I mean, I’m gonna be on the road for two hours.” He spent all fucking day with me and he still wants to talk.

And I’m telling myself, if it’s meant to be, if I’m worth it to him, he’ll make it work. But that doesn’t stop the maelstrom of conflicted feelings inside me. After he left, all I wanted to do was wash him off. The fear I’ve had for weeks, that maybe he’s just dragging this out until he decides he wants to date again, flared magnificently to life. Turns out I couldn’t completely wash him off—he gave me my first hickey at the ripe old age of almost 29 and all I can think about any of this is: why?

[portablechemist]

So a huge thing I've noticed in the initial separation is that my partner was a FIEND for cleaning, which I knew, but like... everything all the time had to be swept, wiped down, straightened up, etc. He'd sweep 3-4 times a day - once in the morning, after every meal, and sometimes as we were watching TV at night. He said it was to help with his anxiety, but if I let him do it on his own for too long (i.e. a few days), he'd yell that I never helped him (which is so funny, cuz I did all of the other chores except vacuuming). My cleaning was never good enough - he'd alway redo it, following up a few minutes after I cleaned. I couldn't leave mail on the table for more than a day, or I'd get a "when is this going to be picked up?"

Now that I'm not there anymore, things can just be... messy. And I'm not talking about unsanitary - just lived in. There can be some spillage from the cat litter and the mat doesn't always have to be aligned under it. I can leave a glass of water out to use the next day. No one yells at me or makes me feel guilty if I leave a cup of coffee out on my desk overnight. My grandma leaves crumbs on the table and reuses our napkins from one meal to another. She's left bread on the counter for the last couple days! And yeah, we wipe down the table after we eat and she does chores on Thursdays, but like... I left a wrapper out all night and no one 1) noticed or 2) got mad at me for it.

I woke up this morning to the cats having torn into their dry food overnight, and they made a mess, and y'know what I did? Lightly chastised them and cleaned it up. If that'd happened with my partner around, he would have yelled about it all day - at the cats, at me - for "not preparing for this" or "being too lazy to not do something about it before it happened". It'd set him off, and the rest of the day would be markedly worse because of it. But instead, it can just be a thing that happened. The day can still be good.

I'm noticing other things too - like, after the first weekend, I'm sleeping better and getting up earlier. I'm having more fun out and about with people, both in the sense that I'm doing more and I'm having more fun doing it? I'm singing more. I'm not driving as fast. I have more patience with the cats during the day (they're menaces when I'm working). My acid reflux has calmed down. And yeah, I still feel guilty, but it's really dropped off. I don't worry that someone's going to yell at me for something I didn't know I'd done or interrupt a meeting to talk about something banal. I don't have to reassure somone six times a day that I do, in fact, still love them. I don't have to worry about having one thing on the calendar for the weekend and that being "too much."

A lot of this sounds really nitpicky. Normal relationship shit that annoys anyone. But there were also times where he would freak out for hours on end - tell me how he didn't love me anymore, was thinking about getting a divorce, wanted to leave me. How - during the midst of my chemo treatment! - I was a child and couldn't do anything for myself and was the worst of my siblings and he was only staying with me so they didn't experience another heartbreak this year. How he couldn't control any of the shitty (and eventually, as I realized, abusive) stuff he said or did. How it was asking too much of him to ask him to stop hitting walls or himself, cuz how else was he supposed to get out his anger? His therapist said he needed to be able to express his feelings. Come to find out he'd never told his therapist (or anyone in his intensive group therapy) I'd called him abusive, because he didn't want opinions of him to change. Because everybody hates abusers. Because he didn't see himself as an abuser. Because my opinion, my perspective, my feelings didn't matter as much as his did.

Turns out, when you've got a reputation for being level headed and nice to most people and perhaps you put up with too much, if you tell people that you're leaving your partner, their first assumption is "whoa, he must have really fucked up." Which, when you've spent at least the last 5 years doubting your own feelings and perspective, is very validating.

[ghost-town-story]

FebruarOC Day 23: Will Hayden

It takes a while, but eventually, after several hugs from Mom and recounting an abridged version of what happened to all of our parents, Dad pulls me aside. “Let’s take a walk, hm?”

My heart sinks, and I try and brace myself for the inevitable lecture I know is coming. “Okay.”

The sun is setting as we step outside, painting the houses around us in gold. Dad leads the way down the driveway to the sidewalk, and I fall into step next to him. The silence lingers between us, making me more and more antsy the longer it stretches.

I manage to last until we reach the corner. “Just get it over with already.”

Dad raises an eyebrow at me. “Get what over with, exactly?”

“You know,” I huff. “The whole ‘Jazz you’re stupid and reckless and so lucky nothing bad happened’ lecture.”

“That’s not quite what I had in mind,” Dad says mildly.

“Close enough.” I shove my hands into my pockets.

Dad sighs. “Jasmine.”

He’s still mad enough to use my full name.

“It would be rather hypocritical for me to lecture you about all that. The only real high ground I have here is your lack of planning.”

“Oh, we’re going the moral high ground route here, are we?” I kick at a pebble along the edge of the sidewalk.

“Jasmine.” Dad stops and turns to face me. I still refuse to look up at him. “Jazzy.” He crouches down so I have a harder time avoiding him. “I didn’t bring you out here for a lecture. I think your mom covered that base pretty well.”

“Yeah, well, you usually double down on the lectures whenever anything magic is involved,” I mutter.

“Not this time.” Dad brushes my hair back from my face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I reply automatically before my brain can even catch up.

Dad makes a doubtful noise. “You know,” he says, “whenever I’ve told you and Hayden and Nick those stories about my adventures, I’ve left a lot out. Some of it is because I don’t want to scare you or your brothers. Some of it is because it still scares me. But that makes it real easy for me to spot when you’re doing the same thing.”

I wince.

“I brought you out here,” Dad continues, “because I figured you might be more willing to open up if you’re not worried about scaring your mom or your brothers.”

“Or Uncle Jared?” I add.

“Or Jared,” Dad agrees with a laugh. “Though between you and me, that’s a low bar when it comes to Alex.”

Under normal circumstances, I would be able to find the humor in Dad teasing his brother. This time, it just hurts. Because Alex got hurt following my stupid idea, and I feel like if—when Uncle Jared discovers that, he won’t ever forgive me.

Dad waits a few moments, but when he realizes I’m not going to say anything, he stands back up and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Well, the offer is open if you ever want to talk about it.”

I nod into his shoulder despite my intention to never take him up on that, wishing it didn’t feel like the guilt was going to swallow me whole.

~

(have a few extra bloopers of stuff that didn’t quite want to be worked fully into this)

Alex and his dad are asleep on the couch, Alex curled up against his dad’s shoulder. Indy is sprawled across both of them, sparing me and Dad a brief glance before resuming his own nap.

~

Dad leans against the back of the couch and pokes Uncle Jared on the head. Uncle Jared blinks awake, slowly tilting his head back to look at Dad.

“Have you heard of this great new invention?” Dad says lightly. “It’s called a bed.”

“Fuck off Will,” Uncle Jared mumbles.

“No, but seriously, I’m not letting you sleep on my couch,” Dad says. “Either I’ll drive you home, or you can crash in the guest room tonight, but I’m not letting you fuck up your neck like that.”

[bangaloremilf]

Son's friend devoured my juices - Part 1

I drive my BMW 5 Series in the garage and noticed the long line of cars on the streets. It does seem there was a party inside.

Walking in I was greeted by my husband and three of his friends lounging in the living room with wine. My son, his gf and 4 of his friends were chilling by the swimming pool jumping in and out of the pool. I saw some of the young guys checking my outfit - sports bra, short skirt and thigh high boots.

Walked into my bedroom and took off my bra in front of the mirror admiring my boobs. Gently touched it and felt my nipples. Then cupped my breasts and felt them like they were being felt by my husband. Then gently pinched my nipples and let out a quick gasp as I felt the electricity run through my body.

As I shifted my weight, I noticed something by the door. Is that someone peeping? I acted like I didn't notice and started making light moaning noises while keeping the eye on the door through the mirror. Yes, there he was - Sahil the tallest of all the guys and the only guy in my son's group who was single. He had his eye on the prize.

I moved away from the mirror in such a way that he won't notice where I went. He leaned into the door frame into the room trying to find where I was. In that moment, I came in front of him, put my hand on the door frame and stood in front of him topless in a miniskirt and thigh high boots.

Looking for something, Sahil?

he stammered

Looking at something?

He was lost for words

Liking what you seeing?

He quickly realized that I wasn't ashamed. I was playing it very well. Like a stud he smiled and said to me

Yes, mam. Your tits are spectacular.

Those were the words which definitely made a difference. I could feel the wetness on my pussy.

I feel you are going somewhere with that line of thinking.

Yes, I would like to own them. Play with them.

Sure, let's see your mad skills.

I sat down on the bedside couch, and he sat beside me.

Sahil, the stage is all yours.

Sahil gently touched the areas besides my breasts and slowly ran his fingers around the base of the boobs. He had awakened he MILF in me. Slowly his hands went over my boobs, and he cupped it. It was mesmerizing. All those porn I watched, and never in my life I thought I would be in one of them. He then pinched my nipples, and I moaned a little. He picked it up and spoke

You are one dirty MILF. You know that?

I bit my lips, which was more than enough of an answer. I watched as his head lowered and his tongue was over my tits, slowly kissing and running round and round and eventually he sucked those nipples. The jolt of electricity can power our house for a week. He started sucking the boobs like there was no tomorrow. I can see the rising of tent on his shorts. When he took a break to move to the next boobs, I told him

You can free your pants and use your other hand

He took off his pants and his thick long cock was in full view. While sucking my boobs, his hands were stroking himself. I fell back on the sofa unable to contain myself. I felt his hands take my hands and while he was biting my nipples, he held my hands and moved it over his dick.

I felt the hot burning sensation on my hands from the warmth of his cock. I could not even move my hands since he was holding it and using his hands to guide my hand up and down his cock. He was helping me give him a hand job. He knew my weak spots and using it to the best, knowing very well that I wanted all of it.

My first reaction was

How do you know all of this Sahil? You don't have a girlfriend.

Yes, I don't have a girlfriend now, but I had in the past, but my eyes were always on you.

Why is that, Sahil?

I was moaning from my boobs being eaten and made to give him a handjob

Whenever you wear a bikini, I just can't stop staring. Others have to act like they can't see you because they have girlfriends, but I can measure every part of your body as long as your son does not catch me.

His hands slowly started going up my skirt. I let it be and when his hands went all the way in, he was shocked

You are not wearing panty?

I smiled and bit my lips

Why do you think mommy needs to wear panty?

Young men still have not learnt how to control their arousal when a woman talks dirty, especially when those women are not their sexual partners, especially when she is a mom and especially when it happens in a conservative country like India.

His hands went up pussy and he gently touched it. The feeling was unlike nothing other I have ever felt. The lust of a young man with limited sexual experience and the hunger in his eyes made me dripping wet.

All I can recall is him going down on me with his fingers playing with the pussy lips and his tongue rubbing my clit.

The arousal was intense, and it would take me forever to explain it in detail.

It was a few hours later when I woke up with all my muscles tensed and a big wet spot on the skirt.

Stay tuned for more.....

[yersho]

I remember the late nights on the fourth of July when me, you, and dad would sit outside and set off fireworks. My hair was long, then. My hands were perpetually sticky with residue from the s’mores we made every year. The roof of my mouth was always caked with the distinct grubby creaminess of marshmallows. Dad, in his sandals and cargo shorts and white tanktop would set off the best fireworks he could find. He’d always drive up to Tennessee to buy them because those were always better than the ones you could get in Gadsden. I remember the time we were sitting in the garage, and my dad was setting up a bottle rocket to blow, but it fell over and shot right at us. You were really mad at him, and you screamed and ran inside. I only freaked out so badly because you did, and we stayed inside for a while. I felt bad for him because he knew it wasn’t that big of a deal. We did end up going back out and finishing the set. The neighbors would always come out to watch from their porches and driveways. It was so loud each time, but We would always giggle and gawk at all the big ones. I remember sitting in your lap until I was too big to do it. You would sit me down and wrap your arms around me while I watched. Sometimes I would doze off, but the next firework would wake me up. Jared and his family would come up to the fence to watch the fireworks when they got really good. I wonder if any of them knew what you were like outside of the rec league softball coach. I didn’t know a lot of things about you, then. I wouldn’t for a long time. I thought your friends were cool. I liked when you would take me out with you to go see them. They were always fun and played with me, I remember listening to them more than I did you.

My dad to this day gets uncomfortable when I mention your friends, though. I don’t remember much about them, but I’m sure he does. They listened to trashy music when they came over and they were loud. At the time, I thought that was really cool. All the adults that I knew were stuck up and listened to country music. I liked your friends. They liked me. I know one of them liked my dad. It was after you had gotten arrested, of course, but he invited her over when I was gone for the weekend. Revenge, I’m assuming. Everyone knew you had done it too when you were out. I didn’t, though. I was home alone for an hour or so every day until you got home late and locked yourself in your room. You didn’t very much enjoy spending time with me it felt. Did you realize what you were doing at the time? I was about 8 then. Could I have defended myself if someone were to break in while you were in Glencoe shooting heroin? You would leave in the middle of the night. You wouldn’t pick me up at the bus stop anymore. People noticed.

That’s why I had to be dropped off at Gaga’s instead. That never changed your behavior, though. It stayed the same and eventually you stopped coming to get me. I’d spend the night there and she’d drive me to school in the morning and if I was lucky dad would come to get me that night. I began to grow bitter. Gaga asked me a lot about what happened to the old me, and that was not a question I knew how to answer. I took every opportunity to go to someone else's house on the weekends.

[cheemers-writing-archive]

Patch-Up (Spike x Chubby!reader)

A little disclaimer: when I asked the requester what adjectives I should use to describe the chubbiness without sounding demeaning, they said that plump would work. If you don't feel comfortable being described that way, please don't read this!

Spike staggered back onto the ship, taking slow, uneasy footsteps. He almost lost his balance a couple of times, slamming into the walls, before finally making it to his room. There, he flopped down on his bed, groaning.

“All of this, and he still got away,” he mumbled to himself. “The only thing worse than coming back all beat up is coming back with nothing to show for it.”

“Jet?” Spike heard the sound of your voice coming from outside. “Could you take care of the bell peppers I started? I felt a thump from the wall outside the kitchen.”

“Sure thing,” Jet replied. “Want me to add some beef?”

You laughed. “Whatever you want,” you said. “I’ll go get some supplies for any injuries that may have occurred.”

It only took about a minute before Spike heard a knock on his door. “Come in,” he sighed. The moment the door opened to reveal your plump form, he knew you were going to gasp.

“Spike! What happened?” you exclaimed. He was bleeding out from his head, and he had too many bruises and scratches to count.

“You’ve seen me like this about twenty times,” Spike croaked out. “How are you not numb to it?”

Every time Spike asked that question, you felt so lucky that he always stared right up at his wall. Otherwise, he would see the blush that formed on your cheeks. “I…” you always gave him the same half-truth, but you suspected it was starting to not work. Oh, well. No time to think of anything else at the moment. “I just hate when my teammates get hurt, you know that!”

Yeah, but you don’t abandon your cooking for Jet or Faye like you do for me, Spike thought to himself. Although he wanted to say it out loud, he bit his tongue to keep his mouth from speaking. It wasn’t like he was afraid an argument would drive you away from patching him up, it’s just that you were too sweet to defend yourself for long. If he kept badgering you, the truth would come out. It was so painfully obvious you liked him, but he didn’t want to force the confession out of you.

A sudden sharp pain pulled Spike out of his thoughts. “Ow!” he yelped.

“Oh! I’m sorry!” you said, pulling your hand away from the injury. “I didn’t realize there was a bruise there.”

“It’s fine,” Spike winced. He hesitantly laid himself back down, and took in a deep breath. “It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

You knew he was lying. Based on the way the bed sank lower on the other side of his body, you could tell that he was keeping pressure off of the injury. After a couple of moments, you asked, “Why do you never get cross with me when I’m patching you up?”

Spike was lucky you were staring down at his arm, or you would have seen the blush that formed on his cheeks. “You’re just too kind to be mad at, I guess,” he said as he turned his head the other way. “The way you take care of me after I recklessly go out and almost get myself killed… it reminds me of this woman I knew in the syndicate.”

Spike constantly talked about that woman. He never mentioned her name, possibly for her own safety, but you could tell that it also brought up painful memories. It was almost like he wanted to relive those memories, however, because he seemed to bring up how you reminded him of that woman every time you nursed him back to health. You had a feeling he liked you, but you wanted to make sure he healed from the past before starting anything new.

The rest of the patching up was done in silence, with only a few winces from Spike. Eventually, after what felt like ages to him, you cheerfully announced “All done!”

Spike finally allowed himself to breathe as his tensed up body appeared to melt into the bed.

“I’ll bring your food to you so you don’t have to get up,” you told Spike, who nodded in approval. “I heard Jet added some beef to my bell peppers.”

As you excused yourself from Spike’s room, the man groaned once more. “I really hope that means he actually added beef this time,” he grumbled.

[chubbology]

A Little Incentive

prompt: someone skinny grows chubby on their partner's good cooking and insistence they eat well

From the tempting smell of bacon and syrup that wafted into the room, I knew she’d outdone herself this morning.

“I made breakfast,” she stage-whispered to me. I grinned and turned over in bed, feigning sleepiness even though what I really wanted was to sit right up and take that plate from her hands.

Then my stomach growled and she laughed.

“The others are jealous,” she said. “But I told them they already had a habit of eating breakfast. You’re the one I need to hammer it into, by any means necessary.”

I took a deep breath and sat up in bed, pushing hair out of my face. “Consider me incentivized.” I took the heaping plate of breakfast food that she pushed at me, then the fork, and started into the chocolate chip pancakes, which were half soaked in syrup. Also on the plate lay bacon, eggs, hash browns, a muffin, and…

“French toast sticks, too?”

“As a reward for finishing all your exams! I know you like them.”

I thanked her. She poked my side and smiled fondly at me. “At the beginning of this semester, you would have said this was too much. I hope you know that it makes me the happiest girl in the world that you’re eating properly now.”

In response, I took a bite of extra crispy bacon and groaned in pleasure. As she got ready for the day, I considered her comment. Eating properly. She and I had different definitions of that, or used to at least.

My first two years of college were hard. Working part time, taking hard classes, dealing with an awful roommate. I barely took care of myself. I thought eating properly was eating at all. But then I met her and we hit it off, became friends and then more than friends, then moved in together with a couple more roommates just barely off campus. All the while, she made a point of showing me each day what eating properly meant to her: big meals cooked in the kitchenette or piled onto plates in the dining halls, snacks throughout the day, and never forgetting dessert. It kept her chubby, but she didn’t mind. I certainly didn’t.

“Bye!” I called out as she left for her last day of exams. She seemed confident about how hers had gone so far. Me? Not so much. I was never a good test taker.

I finished my plate down to the crumbs. I went and leisurely washed the dishes. I had pretty much nothing to do today. From the silence coming from the other bedrooms, I knew I had the apartment to myself, too. I could go outside, but it was too hot. And like hell I was going to go to the library again until I absolutely had to. There were always video games, but I stayed up late last night staring at screens, trying to forget my poor performance on my own last exam of the semester. I felt burnt out on everything.

I blinked in confusion when I realized I’d opened the fridge. I closed it. I literally just ate, so I don’t know why I’d…

The next three hours, I spent back in bed. Looking on my phone, resting my eyes, worrying about exam results, and tugging on my pajama pants. They were tight because I was so full. Eventually I decided to do something productive, starting with a shower. Maybe I could drive to a café or something, hang out there.

After showering and dressing (since I wasn’t exactly full anymore, I figured the tightness of my shorts was from bloating) I wandered into the kitchen for something to snack on. The fridge was always well stocked, and I eyed the rest of the batch of muffins in tupperware. I heard her voice in my mind: It makes me happy when you treat yourself.

What the hell. I took out the container, opened it, and took a bite out of the cinnamon raisin muffin. I closed my eyes. Big and sugary and so good. Better than the first one, maybe, because it had cooled off and I could better taste the flavor. I ate another one. And then I treated myself with a third before closing the lid again. There were still eight left.

I tried putting the container back in the fridge, but something stopped me. Go ahead, I heard her say. You don’t eat enough.

Slowly, I opened the container again and ate two more of the muffins. They were just so good. Then I put the container away, firmly slamming the fridge door and biting my lip. Truth was, she stopped telling me I don’t eat enough months ago.

I went back into the bathroom and took a good look at myself, which I’d avoided doing before. Truth was, my shorts were tight because, thanks to my partner’s cooking and our lingering stays at the dining halls and my new penchant for snacking, I had filled out more than a little. I’d put on my own chub. My shirt clung to my sides, which were soft and rounded (Is that why she poked me?), and upon closer inspection, I couldn’t deny my face looked tubbier, too.

I stood in quiet shock for a while, gently pressing my palm to the outward slump of my belly, its natural shape when I didn’t suck it in. (When did I start unconsciously sucking it in?) After a minute of dazedly contemplating my weight, I rummaged around for a dusty scale and stepped on it with bated breath.

My jaw fell open. My whole face, my neck, my ears flushed red, even though there was no one to see me there, finding out I was thirty seven pounds heavier than expected.

Forty pounds? Almost forty pounds? It was impossible. I didn’t look that much bigger.

But she had always said I was too skinny. So maybe twenty of those just filled me in? And then the rest was…extra? Forty pounds.

The surprise waned after a few more minutes of checking myself out in the mirror. I found I wasn’t as upset as society had led me to think I would be.

I did go to a café later that day. My newfound self-awareness didn’t kick back in until after I got a grande frappe and a scone. At my table, I thumbed the belly that now warmed a small part of my lap before eating and sipping my treats anyway.

My shorts felt so tight after a while, I just unbuttoned them and hoped no one would notice.

I spent a few hours there, reading and browsing my laptop and giving my soft belly secretive, intrigued touches before I started thinking about the six remaining muffins at the apartment. When I got back, I found I was in good company.

“I really did good on these,” she said, swallowing. “Want one?”

I took one, trying to hide my sheepishness. Did she guess it was me who ate the five that were missing? Or did she think it was our other roommates? Did she think…

“You want to get a late lunch?” “I think I need new clothes.”

We stared at each other. She chuckled, “Sorry, what?”

I flushed, tugging conspicuously on my shorts, not quite able to find the words. “Need to go shopping.” I’ve gained almost forty pounds. Forty pounds! My throat constricted.

“Oh.”

I looked up at her. “You’re a good cook,” I said, grinning. Still a little embarrassed.

But now she was a bit pink in the face, too. “Yeah, we should go shopping. Um. You aren’t mad. Are you? I just really like to cook and bake, and you really were too skinny and—”

“No, no! I’m not mad. I—”

Am I going to get fat? I wanted to ask her suddenly, and I felt very warm. I’m always eating these days. What if I outgrow the new clothes I buy? What then?

“I hope you know I think you look good,” she blurted. My thoughts ceased. “Really good.”

Suddenly, I was aware I’ve been sucking my belly in again. Would it be weird if I stopped? Just let it...swell out? I took in a deep breath, then let it all out, not sucking in this time. Her wide eyes fixated on my chubby lower belly.

“Thanks,” I said, trying not to be awkward. “To be honest, I only noticed recently that I look…different.”

Her eyes met mine and she looked very adoring. I’m sure my expression was identical. “Just a little. I was surprised how much your appetite grew.”

“Yeah. You still want to get lunch?” I asked. “Kinda feel like the dining hall.”

Kinda feel like going all out.

I won’t get fat.

Only a little, maybe. Not the end of the world.

“Okay,” she squeaked, as if hearing my thoughts. “Good idea. After all my stupid exams, it’s time to treat myself.”

I wholeheartedly agreed. So we went.

I loved how she looked shyly excited the whole time, as I overdid the second and third helpings. It seemed to make her overdo it some, too. Which spurred me to make it a competition, and there we sat together, overeating like a couple of chubby fiends.

“Still think you’re too skinny,” she taunted me, as we left, already discussing plans for dinner.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[falcqns]

Hey, can you write that she faked her orgasm because she has trouble cum.  Henry finds out and is angry because she hasn’t said anything and doubts his abilities?  then he brings her to a orgasm

First Time

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings:

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! Hope you enjoy!

Henry pulled out of you with a grunt, and fell against the bed beside you. You immediately felt a wave of guilt wash over you at your failed orgasm, and rolled over to face away from him, willing the tears to stay away. You felt the bed jostle as Henry stood up and walked into the conjoining bathroom, and heard the tap being turned on before you heard him coming back.

You flinched slightly as the wet washcloth was pressed against your core, but Henry shushed you quietly and you calmed down. No words were said, they never were. Henry knew you always grew emotional after sex, and were never up to talking, so he stayed quiet, and always allowed you to speak first. 

He tossed the used washcloth into the laundry hamper in the corner of your bedroom, and laid back down on the bed. He laid his hand on your back, and that’s when the dam broke. You started sobbing, and Henry immediately pulled you into his arms. He was concerned. You may have teared up before, but have never outright sobbed after sex like you were before.

Your face was pressed against his bare chest, his fingers moving up and down your back to soothe you. “What’s wrong?” He asked, and waiting for you to calm down to answer. “I-I didn’t finish,” You said remorsefully, and Henry gave you a sad smile. 

“Sometimes it won’t happen. It doesn’t mean anythings wrong with you, or that I’ll love you any less,” He said, and you pulled out of his arms as another wave of guilt washed over you again. You scooted to the end of the bed, and looked out the window to your right. 

“I’ve never finished,” You admitted, and Henry exclaimed. 

“What?!” He said. You didn’t answer, and instead kept looking out the window at the snow coming down in droves. He grunted in annoyance, and stood up. He gathered his clothes and started to get dressed. You didn’t turn around until you heard his belt clicking.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whispered, and he scoffed. 

“No you aren’t. If you were, you would have been honest from the start. He said. “If you had told me from the beginning that you weren’t attracted to me, I would have been perfectly happy being friends with you. I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who is only dating me because they feel sorry for me.” He said. he sat down on the mattress, and pulled his socks on. “You should have told me that you didn’t want it. If you did, I wouldn’t have done anything. I don’t want you turning this around on me because it could ruin my career.” He said.

“Hen, I-” You began, but Henry cut you off. 

“No. Next time, just spare me the heartbreak, and tell em you don’t feel the same way. Sure I’d have been upset, but I wouldn’t be mad. I thought you were different.” He said, and you listened as he stormed out of the apartment. 

You broke down crying as you heard his car driving away.

Later that night, before you drifted off to sleep, you sent him a text.

“I didn’t not finish because I’m not attracted to you. I am insanely attracted to you. I didn’t finish because I never have. I’ve never even been able to make myself cum. You know for a fact that I would NEVER accuse you of something like that, and I am offended that that thought was even in your head. I am different, and you know that. It’s not your fault, but it’s not mine either, so don’t you DARE blame me for this.” You sent the message before flinging your phone across the room and rolling over to sleep. 

Moments later, you heard your phone vibrating against the hardwood floor of your bedroom, but you chose to ignore it, closing you eyes instead and drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, you were awoken by pounding on your front door. You groaned in annoyance, but pulled yourself out of bed to answer it. When you opened the door, you were faced with Henry.

You were about to close the door, but he pushed into your apartment and picked you up bridal style, kicking the door shut behind him. He carried you to your bedroom and dropped you on your bed. He yanked your sleep shirt up, and pulled your panties down, before he settled himself in between your legs and attached his mouth to your clit.  You moaned in pleasure, but opened your mouth to speak. “I don’t know why you’re even trying,” You said. “You’re just going to be disappointed,” But he gave you a glare and you promptly shut your mouth and let him get on with it.

You felt your high approaching, but you logically knew that it wouldn’t happen. Henry pulled his mouth off of you moments later, and stripped himself out of his clothes. You moaned when you saw his hard rock bounce up against his stomach, before he reached in a bag sitting beside him that you hadn’t seen before. You gasped when he pulled out a small vibrator, no bigger than 5 inches. It was gray, with unicorns and star all over it. He dropped it beside your head, and grabbed his hard cock and line it up with your entrance. He made eye contact with you for a brief second before pushing inside you. 

He set a quick pace, and reached over for the vibrator. He pressed the on button and you heard the mechanics inside whir to life. Seconds later, you felt intense pleasure as he pressed the vibrator against your clit, causing your whole body to shake. You cursed as you felt unfamiliar pressure begin to build in your abdomen.

Your hands slid up Henry’s shoulders to try and get him to slow down, but he just grabbed your wrists and pinned them down with his free hand. When he pressed your wrist into the mattress, you got a good look at his face and realized why he wasn't talking to you.

He was mad. 

You had seen him angry before, but never to this extent. The two of you had small little fights, but nothing this extreme. Usually, he’d be mad for a few hours, and eventually come up to you and talk to you. Or, if you were mad at him, he’d let you come to him when you were ready. But this time, his face was bright red, and his jaw was clenched. You opened your mouth to say something, but he growled, and you immediately closed your mouth. He had never ‘punished’ you, but you wouldn't put it past him if he got angry enough.

The pressure in your abdomen became almost too much, until you fell over the edge into pure euphoria. Waves of white hot pleasure crashed down onto you like a tsunami, and you screamed out, limbs shaking. Henry grunted as you clenched down on him, but still not speaking. 

Henry removed the vibrator from your clit moments later. He hit the off button and tossed it across the bed. He pulled out of you, and laid next to you. His arms came around your waist and pulled you against his chest. His fingers ran up and down your back to help you calm down.

“I’m still upset that you didn't tell me,” He said, and you nodded. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled. He hugged you closer. 

“Its okay angel. Just tell me next time when you need help, okay?” “Okay.”