#fatty on toilet

[fluffybellyhog99]

My fatass sitting on the on the toilet this morning and that thing shrinking rapidly under me!

[morbidlychubese]

how ready are you to have to be changed daily? for the absolute weight of your fat to press onto your bladder constantly leaving you unable to hold anything in. of course i’ll keep your lovely cow self hydrated so it’ll be flowing. you won’t fit diapers long, either, so we’ll have to settle for some extra large pads to cover your bed

HUFFF. I know some people aren't into being so fat your incontinent, but it really really gets me. Out growing my bariatric toilet, and then outgrowing diapers, not to mention clothes. It pushes my buttons so well. And I wouldn't mind being changed daily. It sounds better than having to get up <3

[rainey-staerie-daize]

As I'm walking by the boys' room, I hear Bry talking to his friends online about Xan being autistic, and Xan asks what that is, and Bry tells him it's what he has. So I say, no, it's not.

So Bry goes off about me needing to get a life. Talking to his friends about how I'm 23 with no job. Meanwhile, Bry's been "homeschooled" for a year, barely doing anything, so he's effectively not more educated than a middle schooler.

A couple minutes later, he's referencing the 21 meme and Xan's trying to reason with him how he's wrong.

Honestly, just throw both brothers away at this point.

[tummywrites]

you had the life. happy family, good grades, star of the softball and cheer team, eventually picked for your favorite sorority. every frat bro flirted with you, and every one of your sisters was jealous of you. you were a size 0, no one was skinner than you in your whole house and you knew girls envied you for it, you took joy in watching the fatties you were supposed to consider "sisters" run to the bathroom after dinners at the sorority house, the sounds of their puke hitting the toilet as they tried to purge, desperate for a body as perfect as yours. you meet a hot guy at a frat party one night, and he pours a few too many drinks down your throat and for the first time you're bloated: an unnatural roundness on your otherwise stick thin figure. you notice this and when you get back to your dorm room, drunk and stumbling and just barely able to make it into your bed and grab your vibrator, rutting your hips helplessly into your bed. your belly was so swollen, so full, and you could feel the liquid sloshing around in there, trying to making you sick, but all it did was make you horny.

why?

the next time you felt that feeling, it was at a tailgate and you were there with all your sisters & and their boyfriends, waiting for the game to finish so you could go to the frats and party. you got drunk again and this time you got hungry, so you walked over to the guy's side of the area and grabbed a slice of pizza, trying to avoid eye contact with your sisters nearby who you had overheard complaining about how "fat" they were getting (as they went from 100 to 110 pounds after spending every night partying, not eating all day and drinking all night) you laughed at those girls in your mind as you stood there in your size 0 slip dress, flaunting your body to the girls who fought to look like you. you devoured the first slice of pizza with that on your mind, and couldn't help yourself as you grabbed a second one, and with that, a few bread bites. you eyed the snack tray on the table, with baggies of chips and a cooler full of sugary sodas, but then you saw your Big sister glaring at you from across the room and you glanced down, recoiling in horror (and clenching your legs in arousal) your stomach was rounded out, pulling your dress tight across your belly in an almost obscene way. without a word, you grabbed your bag and stumbled off, embarrassed and drunk and so full, but so turned on for seemingly no reason. why would you be turned on by being so bloated from countless beers and greasy pizza, then being caught by one of the other girls there while you made a pig of yourself?

what sealed your fate was over christmas break, when your high school friends wanted to get together again and have a dinner party. you were still as thin as you had always been, but it lately you did feel a little resistance as you went to tug up your lulu pants which was unusual. your friends from high school, however, were not so lucky. your high school best friend had gained at least 40, maybe 50 pounds--a once skinny girl with a flat chest and stomach, now spilling out of a crop top and skirt, a muffin top cascading over the waistband of a skirt. your other friend, a once sporty guy who hadn't gained a day in his life, now walked in with a shirt that clung uncomfortably to his gut, which brought back that hot feeling in your pussy, your clit throbbing as you saw him, pot belly absolutely obscene to you. everyone brought a dish to welcome you home, and they all insisted you try each dish, then seconds, and thirds of this dish, this that one, and then try this one again--

good thing you had drinks.

by the end of the night, you were so nauseous you were convinced were you going to spew. you had ate so much, potato dishes soaked in heavy cream, the thickest mac n cheese you had seen in your life, cheesecakes, and at least 48 chicken wings, you had lost count after the first two dozen you had shoved down your throat in between cans of beer. you were seeing double, but you saw clearly the face your best friend was making as you chugged down another beer and before you could stop, there was a deafening pop! and the button on your jeans fell to the floor, bouncing off the cabinet and landing square in the center of the kitchen. you were so embarrassed, tears welling to your eyes. in a rush, you screamed for your friends to leave, refusing to listen to them as they tried to reason with you. after you kicked them out, you walked back into the kitchen, still crying and hot with shame, staggering as you try to bend over and grab the button that taunted you from the floor. you held it in your palm, then looked down at your belly, which was rounded out further than it ever had, and obscured your view of your feet as you glanced down, the movement sloshing all the countless cans of beer in you. your crop top couldn't hide the actual belly you were forming now, and you looked up to your reflection in the black tv. fuck. you looked pregnant. you looked at the cheesecake on the counter as you wiped your tears, one hand grabbing and the round gut spilling out of your jeans. you reached out for the tray, and without pausing ate the rest, not even bothering with silverware as you glutted yourself. before you could stop yourself, you had finished the whole cheesecake, then the rest of the mac n cheese, and then stumbled over yourself to grab the last two cans of beer, pouring them into a big cup together, throwing your head back in desperation as you drank both in seconds. you fall over chairs and tables to get over to the couch, belly so distended you let out a whimper whenever its jostled, and pass out there.

ten years later, you're 29 years old and stepping off the scale in front of your fridge. your mark your weight on the fridge, and open up while reaching for the closest bottle of wine. despite your attempts to lose weight, you've gained 15 pounds in the past month. you're 302 pounds, you wear a 4XL and a 24 in jeans, which are barely hanging on. your ass barely fits in the drivers seat of your car and your bed creaks when you lay on it. you've broken your computer chair so you moved a dining chair into your bedroom, but your thighs spilled over the side, so you had to give up the computer. you hadn't talked to most of your friends in years, probably not since new years after that christmas, where you first fell into your gluttony and addiction. you spent the rest of that break stuffing your face to cope with your feelings, and by the time you were supposed to back to school you were 30 pounds heavier and not a single item of clothing fit your growing body. you were 140 pounds, and the moment you stepped out of your car on shaky legs in front of your sorority sisters, you knew it was over. they all began to laugh, heaving and pointing in malice at the inches of overhang you had falling over your skirt, which was only zipped up halfway, covered by a shirt that looked like it was painted on. you dropped out within a few days and spent the days partying, drinking, and stuffing your face at the end of the night, rubbing your pussy until you came. you couldn't resist the feeling food gave you.

[sunny-mercya]

Bittersweet

Geto Suguru x Male Reader | Platonic! Guilty Gojo Satoru x Male Reader

Fandom -> Jujutsu Kaisen

Masterlist

Gojo always detest it when he had to visit you. It wasn't because he hated—a strong word, more like dislike—you, if anything, it was more out of the still immense guilt he feels in your presence.

A guiltiness which eats him up, making him a pitiful whimpering mess in the nights. Bawling his eyes out at the empty shrines, after every visit—his confidence crumbling into nothing but dust, the insecurity resurfacing again and haunting him like the phantom, dull, pain he feels in his eyes and back.

It was his fault. His damned fault that you're like this now. A mere shell of apathetic lethargy and suicidal tendencies—three tries had almost succeeded.

So yes, Gojo detests, hated it even, to visit you. He had to though, in his sole duty of being your friend—even when you once had said, he isn't anymore a friend but a stranger—and because leiri made him to do.

Trotting up the stairs to your apartment, bags in one hand and the other causally in his pant pockets—playing with the house-keys—Gojo thought what to cook for you.

Perhaps your favourite? No, no, that it is only reserved for the Sundays. A light meal then? Something with fish? Pizza or Pasta? The list is endless to choice from and giving him a headache.

Shoko had told him, in her doctoring lecturing way, to create a Meal-Plan and only cook light meals for you—easy to digest—and nothing too overall fatty and heavy.

Gojo had waved her off, nagging at her how you wouldn't be able to enjoy the goods of foods with something dumb as a "meal-plan".

In the end, Gojo admits that Shoko was indeed right. Considering the amounts of meals and dishes he had taken home for himself, giving it away to his students or the homeless or had to throw it all away. After all you couldn't eat more than, on your good days, three to four bites—till hours later you would heave it up into the toilet again.

A Meal-Plan, huh? Yeah he could do that. Megumi can help him too.

Unlocking the door, Gojo stepped in and announced his presence.

~~~

After emptying out the bags and putting away the items for now, Gojo ventured into the living room—knowing well you're in there, either sitting or laying on the couch and watching whatever is being shown in the television.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, once upon seeing a half finished puzzle on the coffee table and messy toys around it.

Megumi had brought them over during his last visit, telling you; these are much better to beat boredom than some television. Next time I'll bring some books.

Gojo was glad, relieved even, that you played with it.

Crouching down in front of you, blocking the view to television with his still towering high, he takes your hand in his—greeting you with a more softer gently smile.

»Sky eyes,«

Gojo had decided long ago, when you had first muttered those words to him—in the very beginning of your mental downfall, now a in a constant state of lingering decaying—that this was your way of greeting him, how you told him that you're aware of his presence.

Gojo had once made a mistake to come with his blindfold and spooked you so much—you really had believed and still would, if he tries again, that Gojo had been some kind of intruder with evil intentions—you screamed shrill and released a upcoming hurricane of thunderstorms with your cursed energy—now particularly sealed away for your own safety.

So now, whenever Gojo comes over he wears his round shaped sunglasses from his highschool years.

»Yeah, it's me, how are you today [Nickname]?« he asked questions even when he knew he wouldn't get replies from you.

»Hungry? I will made you some nice chicken nuggets, brought the Dino-shaped this time«

Gojo was aware he babbles. He doesn't care, he rather talks nonsense to himself and your apathetic self—than listen to the constant annoying chatter of the television and the upcoming silence which would follow afterwards.

»C'mon [Name], it's bath time,« Gojo picks you up, carrying you into the bathroom and sitting you down on a stool.

He fills the bathtub, making sure the temperature was neither too hot nor cold. He adds some bubble foam to it and two toys.

Gojo undress you slowly, cautiously of your still fresh wounds—self-inflicted days ago, when a night had gotten worse again. Sitting you in the water, he washes you. Humming happily some melody, occasionally joining you in moving the toy ducks arounds.

»Quack squishy wuack«

»Yeah, wuacky quacky [Nickname], look there wants to join another ducky« he showed you the third toy duck, adding it to the water.

A squeal of joy came over your lips, looking with wide eyes at Gojo, happiness radiating off from you as you continue to play.

Gojo's lips trembles, guilt crawling up his throat again.

~~~

Nights are cruel in their own way. Leaving the thoughts spinning and setting them free. Bringing out a loneliness and feelings once deep buried down.

Gojo buried his head in his hands, slightly gripping his snow white hair—you once said to him, how his hair reminds you of the first snow—sitting at the edge of your bed.

He inhaled and exhaled deeply, breathing in a pattern of three-five-five. His thoughts are going haywire again, flaring up the guilt—which is now so thick in his throat that he couldn't swallow anymore.

He looks at you—such a peaceful expression on your face, already so deep in the blissful dreamland—moving his hand to slowly drive through your hair with his fingers, all the way down to your cheeks and caressing them.

His gaze goes to the few photo frames on your nightstand, the small nightlight illuminates only so much. One particular photo always captures his attention.

It was a photo of Geto and you, happily married with Nanako and Mimiko—when they had been around 3 years old—in your arms.

A time where you had been the uttermost happiest. Now it was in ruins, leaving you all alone.

If Gojo had been a bit stronger, if he didn't let Geto go, back then when they had argued over jujutsu sorcery's politics and their moral beliefs towards the world, had been more stubborn—than it wouldn't have ended like this.

With his best friend being dead—at fault for this was Gojo himself, he was the one who killed Geto after all—and you, who had already lost your husband and losing your daughters shortly after—till today you didn't know how they died and Gojo thanked the above that it hadn't been him who done that—who is nothing but a decaying shell forevermore.

»Ya know, [Nickname], I've decided you gonna move in with me now. So I can take even better care of you.«

That's what Geto would've wanted.

[phattiepheeder]

That heavy feeling in your guts as the greasy food it’s packed with sluggishly rolls through. The dull ache of slow contractions as your guts do their best to turn so much garbage into shit. Still, the horribly fattening diet and sheer volume of food that gets shoved in there overworks them. The sludge,laden with the grease and lard from your piggy diet causing gurgles and rumbles as pockets of gas also move to your exit. The low bassy farts that leave your hole glazed with gooey shit. The way the sharts lead to an urgent unloading, sitting on the toilet as pre-soft serve farts sputter out. And finally the feeling of your bowels beginning to empty all that raw sewage out. How the gooey, sticky cream slowly oozes out, greasing your hole on its way. The cheesy meaty smell as you remember that huge plate of fully loaded triple cheese nachos, those onion rings, the burgers, the fried chicken—the girth of all those empty calories being pumped through a too small exit. And all of them not converted to shit have been turned into lard.

The ordeal of trying to squeeze out a whole belly full of what looks to be the consistency of melted cheese. The relief afterwards. And finally the way even in commercial toilets , the dense heavy pile being flushed away, while still leaving greasy skid marks and an oily shimmer to the water.

Those are the types of shits where I know I’ve been a good piggy and eaten all the sickeningly fatty food that was fed to me. 🥰 the only thing is afterwards I need to take some psyllium to try to clean out all that leftover greasy slop residue. I would love to see the state of my bowels after emptying an intense feeding aftermath. They must be horrendously sticky and filthy🤭

[fluffybellyhog99]

The toilet keeps shrinking under my enormous ass

[assrapepig]

keep me so hungry i beg for your cum and shit everytime you need to use the washroom, youre of course free to deny me and make me watch as you shit out my breakfast, and its up to you if youll allow me to eat any of it before you flush it and my stomach under my fat rolls loudly grumbles knowing my next chance at food wont be until you need to shit again

[jeffthekillersomega]

Ben headcanons 😱Creepypasta tweet inspired ofc ;)

He watches skibidi toilet with Lost Silver

He armpit farts really loudly when he can’t sleep to wake up the other pastas in the Slender-mansion

He still says “get wrecked”

He says some pretty cancel worthy stuff while he’s losing in one of his games

He LOVES to try and argue with the adult pastas in the mansion

He loves to say “wassup motherfuckers”

He curses right in front of Slendermans face because he just dosent gaf

He still T-poses and dabs

He calls himself a sigma male

He views Jeff as his cool older brother

He likes to hold in his farts and wait till he’s in a very quiet situation

He will try and eat ANYTHING raw

He bullies LJ

His favorite emojis are “😎” “🖕

He calls everyone fattys

He is QUICK to humble anybody

He has got banned on Roblox over 16 times

Hes quick to remind Slenderman how old he is whenever he uses big words

He will poop in smile dogs bed than say that it was the dog while nobody suspects it’s him

He watches YouTube shorts

He picks his nose and eats it

He does NOT like Tim/Brian (Masky/Hoodie)

He has a very dirty tablet

He loves discord

He makes autistic jokes 24/7 (im autistic don’t be mad at this)

He hates it when Jane cooks for the Mansion (I hc Jane as a really amazing cook 😍)

He has a crush on Lost Silver but denies it

He loves deez nuts jokes

He always finds a way to make fun of everyone living inside the mansion with him (Including Jeff)

He likes to stalk people on Facebook by making fake accounts that look like somebody’s random grandma

[sucker4sixx]

Raising hell

Pt.1

PLOT: your rival and you get alittle.. honest

WARNING: body shaming, drug misuse

your band ‘the holy marys’ and ‘mötley crüe’ were well known rival bands, touring with a heap of other bands in a world glam rock tour. the crüe were always placed closer to your band with dressing rooms and plane seats, the managers clearly wanting some fued and more publicity

one night you bump into nikki on your way to your dressing room, he growls down at you and keeps walking with his bass. you always found him sexy but kept it to yourself.

later on when both of your bands had played nikki bust into your room, looking at you as you take off your makeup with a slight sneer in his expression “what? What do you want?” You throw down your makeup wipe, his presence pissing you off “wanted to see how ugly you really are without all that makeup” he smirks and walks closer, his muscular arms placing outside of yours, cornering you where you sat “fucking hideous”. You groan and narrow your eyes at him “your no better, sixx. You only get pussy because your famous not because your “hot”” you lie through your teeth knowing hes the most gorgeous man youve ever seen but he sure was a dick. “Lying isnt a good look on you but.. then again youve not got a good look on you. Loud, rude, annoying and.. well..” he looks down at your belly and you raise your voice “get out my room!” He laughs knowing hes got to you and ruffles your hair roughly, leaving.

The next night before the show your standing at the side of the stage, waiting untill you get called on when you catch nikki, hes sitting on one of the many seats that lay idle, his eyes glued to your body as his foot bounces. You stare for awhile untill his singer approaches him, shoving him playfully, nikki meets your eyes just as you get called to the stage.

Afterwards you walk off, sweaty and hyped up, you walk straight to the backstage bar where the workers and other bands sit and drink, nikkis sitting with a glass of whiskey, a pretty little fan on his lap yapping while he just smiles and nods, as soon as he sees you he places her down and walks to you “hey fatty” he smiles wide, wanting to get under your skin but you just walk by him, he follows you to the bar “well? Nothing?” He asks, leaning on the sticky bar beside you “one, im not fat and two i just had a good show and im not letting you ruin my mood” you dont look at him, mouthing thank you to the bartender who passed you your jack n coke. “Well.. maybe your not fat but you sure have a belly” he pokes it, a genuine smile spreading feeling the squishy skin “dont touch me” you snap back, slapping his hand “someones on their period” vince, the singer of nikkis band says from the other side of you, causing nikki to laugh. “You are both asses” you say, leaving to your dressing room.

That night the bands get together and go to the local club, its bouncing with dance music and stinking of sweat and weed, you get pretty drunk and your too busy dancing to notice nikki standing infront of you “nice moves, sweetheart” he laughs and your eyes open “why are you always around? Why dont you ever go away?!” He laughs, rolling his eyes “well, im like a disease honey.. ill never go away” he grins, grabbing a baggy of white powder from his pocket “but now.. im going away” you quickly grab his arm “well.. maybe, i could join you?” You say, hoping he will let you have a bit of his cocaine. He smiles wolfishly and drags you to the toilets.

Nikki hunches over the bathroom sink as he lays out lines, his hands moving like muscle memory to make the lines perfect. He takes the first line and pinches his nose, stepping back as he smacks your ass to move you forward “dont-“ you cut yourself off, warning him not to touch your ass. After a few lines each you both sit opposite from eachother on the floor of the toilet. “Good shit isnt it?” He mutters, trying to make conversation, when you dont awnser he tilts his head. “Why do you hate me?” He speaks genuinely, catching you off guard. “Well, your mean and you love to pick on me” you raise your eyebrow, he gives you too many reasons to hate you yet cant understand why you do. “I guess i do.. your not too nice yourself” he smirks and crawls over to you, sitting beside you. Theres a silence and he glances to you, his eyes alittle red from the alcohol and drugs. “Can we be serious? Just for a second?” He slurs alittle, you nod, curious “i dont really hate you.. maybe i envy you alittle, your so.. fucking cool” you raise your eyebrow and he goes alittle red, feeling embarrassed “your fucking with me.. and i dont appreciate it” you laugh alittle, scanning his face, seeing a genuine look “right?..” nikki groans and leaps forward, attacking your mouth in a bruising kiss, his hand holding your cheek.

You move your body onto his lap, moving away with a look on uncertainty. He pauses and his hand slide up your outer thighs slowly “this isnt right but it feels so god damn good” he says in confusion “your fucking with me.. i cant eat or sleep without thinking about you” he pulls you in for a hungry kiss again, biting your bottom lip as you moan into his mouth “you need this.. tell me you need this, tell me you feel it” he says desperately. “I… i need it.. i need it nikki” nikki leads your back onto the floor and you laugh “not here.. take me back to your hotel”

You both escape the party and run back to the hotel, you reach his hotel room and a womans waiting on nikki, she smirks and walks over to him, offering him a fuck, he lets go of your hand and places his hand on her hip, thinking about the offer. You stand in shock, he just said he was going to fuck you, what the fuck is he doiqng? What happened to all those nice things he said? “Go ahead.. fuck her then!” You shout in a drunken rage, storming to your hotel room, he doesn’t even look back at you, taking the woman to his room.

[ladylaviniya]

The Spirit of Christmas Eve

Masterlist || Chapter 1 ll Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: After an unexpected visit from your younger, overly pregnant and concerned sister- you are yet again put into a terrible mood. You receive a night visit from the ghost of your predecessor and fall into an abyss of confusion.

Pairing: Chris Evans x f!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Disrespect to Homeless People, R4pe Fantasies, Masturbation, Dark Joke about Abortion, Hinted Xenophobia, Humiliation, Ghosts, Swearing, Alcoholic Use, Drug Use, Classism.

Word Count: 5k

Author Notes: This is a parody of the classic "A Christmas Carol" story by Dickens, I hope you come to enjoy it even though the pov holds cruel, toxic and abusive traits.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

09:00am, 24th December 2023, New York City.

Oh how you hated the holidays. You hated the red and green colouring, you hated the carolling groups and bands singing every day in December leading up to the wretched twenty fifth. You hate the baby Jesus in a manager nativity set ups.

‘Jesus wasn’t even fucking born on Christmas. He was a January baby according to Jewish scholars. It was all a ploy to satisfy and celebrate Yule with pagans before encouraging indoctrination!!’

And the smell of peppermint, gingerbread and fatty sugary foods left you feeling sickly.

“Unnecessary calories to dissolve the enamel of my teeth when it comes back up in the  goddamn toilet.”

The cold air and the slippery frost brought you no delight. Along the way you would kick the snow men in your walking path. You despised the bratty children sitting on the Santa laps in the malls.

‘Their parents should know half of those fat ass Santa actors are just paedophiles getting their kicks once a year? Yea I’d love a little boy all prim and plump to sit on my lap if I was a sicko in a red suit too.’

You hated the fact they were bringing Christmas trees in the day after Halloween.

“Sure, it spins the wheel of capitalism but God, do they have to look so trashy? Christmas is once a year, not two months long.”

You rolled your eyes and scoffed as you strutted the street to your work place.

Your senior associate Marlene who you could’ve considered your friend had a heart attack early that year. She was a woman in her prime, at forty years old she had managed to build her business empire. No husband, no kids, no pets. She didn’t need those things, not when she raked in over four million dollars a year. She drank and smoked like a chimney, you wondered if it contributed to her death in the end. She was rumoured to be found naked, getting fucked by some no name sexy twenty-one year old playboy from South Korea. And among her blissful orgasm, her heart just couldn’t handle the pressure and faltered.

Imagine his horror. Balls deep and not knowing she had died. Little shit tried getting her money in the inheritance scheme. He tried pushing that he was her long committed boyfriend. One threat to the immigration department sent that kid running for the kills back to Seoul.

You were named successor in her Will. Now, it’s not like you needed her millions, you already had a full pocket. At twenty five you’d made your first million all because you picked the right pattern in your investments and put every cent into them. You worked instead of partied. And many had said behind your back that it made you a miserable sourpuss bitch with no friends. You didn’t need friends. Marlene was just a funny coincidence.

Some might have called you careless, impulsive, and greedy. But what that translates to you was the word ‘Wealth and Success’. You were wealthy and money made you happy. The more numbers, the more joy in your cold heart.

You entered the building that was now yours. Oh did I forget to remind you...you were the CEO of your tax collecting firm. I think that’s important for you to know.

Entering the sleek grey, white and black minimalist foyer you sighed in relief. No Christmas or holiday bullshit in here. You had banned all decorations and affiliations.

And you refused paid leave to anyone asking not to work on Christmas day. You remember scoffing last night at the amount of requests you had received about time off for the holidays.

‘I’m running a business, not a charity.’

Christmas was the best time of year for your job. So many stupid people take out stupid loans they can’t afford especially during the holidays period when gift giving is the centre cause of financial stress. You got a thrill out of denying loans and upping payment interest rates for those suckers who didn’t make their payments on time because they chose to spend the money meant to be going into your pocket on some disposable wrapping paper and a cheap pharmacy gift last minute.

As you stepped into the elevator you smiled cynically at the empty space. You could look at yourself in the mirror and pick apart all the things you loved and hated about your body. It was strangely therapeutic. Something about the critiques gave you a massive high.

But just as the elevator doors where closing a hand slammed hard through the gap.

“Wait!” came a familiar cry. Your face fell and you felt a tight discomfort seeing the face of your younger sister. Caroline.

Your eyes shot down to her belly. Big as a house in the ugliest knit Christmas sweater.

‘Pregnant again. Jesus Christ. What’s this? Number four now?’

You clenched your handbag tighter. You tried recalling some sort of baby shower invite from months ago, you totally forgot about it once you moved it to junk mail.

‘If she fucking asks me for money again, I swear to god she’s risking an abortion voucher in a Christmas card...are abortion vouchers even a thing?’

Caroline had married her highschool sweetheart, he was some sort of mechanic or something. A bum, like your Dad. You couldn’t believe she was dumb enough to breed with an imbecile like him. Mind you, her first son was clearly an teen pregnancy accident that sealed them together. And every year, she just seemed to pop out a new one. And every year that meant you gave her a fat cheque, usually six thousand dollars.

You ground your teeth as she forced herself inside and pressed the button of the doors shut immediately, not at all taking notice of you until mid way moving up in the building.

Her face lit up and she shrieked in delight at seeing you.  You strained a smile.

‘Yea, definitely looking for a handout.’

“Oh my god! I was about to fight security to come see you sissy!” she forced her arms around you. You bit your tongue. You hated hugs.

“Well…lovely seeing you too,” you muttered before awkwardly patting her back.

Her breath hitched at seeing the look on your face, “Sorry about not pre-warning, I did try calling you but your phone keeps going to voicemail.”

‘Oh good, she still hasn’t figured out I let them ring out.’

“And you didn’t reply to my emails.”

You fought a smirk, ‘because they go straight to junk mail’.

She smiled and babbled happily, “Anyway, I had to come here because I need to give you-“ she huffed and swiped a bead of sweat from her forehead before reaching into her nappy bag (that she treated like a handbag.) and retrieved a thick red envelope.

She handed it to you. Your manicured nails pinched the ugly stickers one of your nephews or nieces had chosen. Scribbled in absolute chicken scrap handwriting was your name, most likely also done by your nephew or nieces.

The elevator opened and you sighed, marching out to enter the offices with your solo office space down the hall with the largest window and finest view of the city below. You didn’t expect your sister to tail you. She waddled like a fast duck following you.

“I was thinking you should meet this guy that babysits-” She was talking to you about something but in all honesty, you weren’t listening until she mentioned the cursed words, “-Christmas Party.”

You deposited your handbag on your desk and spun on your heel. Your eyes wide, your smile straining into a sneer.

You snickered cruelly and laced your fingers together, “How many times have we discussed this? I. Don’t. Celebrate. Christmas. I don’t do presents, I don’t do carolling, I don’t do secret Santa’s and I sure as fucking hell don’t do Christmas Parties. I’m glad that you and Tim have fun with your kids and do all that meaningless stuff to shield them from the big bad world. I however am not in the mood for it. Work comes first. This is one of the busiest years of my life, the market is at an all time high in interests rates.”

She looked like she was growing smaller with every foul word that dripped like acid rain.

“It’s just one day, not even a full day. Just a few hours, not far from you,” she whispered and rubbed her belly comfortingly.

You shook your head and circled around your desk, “Might as well get this over with, you don’t need to ploy me with booze.”

You pulled out a cheque book from your drawer and slapped it down. You bent over and fished out a pen, pressing the ink to the slim piece of paper.

Your voice came out like a bark, “How much are you wanting this year?”

“Wh-what?” your sisters eyes grew wide.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, with a condescending tone, “How much money do you want to cover all the gifts? I hear Disneyland is great this time of year in Florida. I need a number. I have a busy day ahead of me so I’d just like to get this over and done with.”

Your sister didn’t answer. You glanced up. Her face was no longer smiling. She looked in pain. Her hand sat on top of her belly. She hissed and breathed out hard.

Her eyes were dimming down. She lost the joyful spark. She waddled to the guest chair in front of your desk and sat down.

She put the nappy bag on the floor.

 ‘great, thanks for the smell of cornflakes and breast milk on the carpet.’

Her breath turned husky and you started to reach for your desk phone ready to call a bloody ambulance to take her to the hospital. You couldn’t tell what the hell was wrong with her and prayed she wasn’t going into labour. You didn’t need to waste five thousand dollars on a carpet replacement because her waters might break.

Her eyes glared up at you as she tried to focus on pacing her breath. God, she looked like your mother with that look. It hurt. She got the best genes you had to admit. Even while pregnant she had this way about her that made men just want to beg for her number. You couldn’t tell if it was her ditsy personality or just good looks.

“Jim," Caroline corrected with strain, "-and I don’t need your money. We don’t want it. We have never have wanted it. This year, I just want you to put in the effort to spend Christmas with us as a family. You and I haven’t shared a Christmas since I was in middle school. My kids want their aunty to visit because I tell them you’re the coolest person alive...” her eyes narrowed, “Put the fucking cheque book away, and come to fucking Christmas dinner at least. It’s going to be at my house if you look at the invite that your nephew and nieces made special for you. They don’t want presents, they just want to see their aunty. Besides.... I told them you’d come if they put extra love into it.”

You chewed your inner cheek and stood up straight, crossing your arms and sat on the edge of your desk.

“You shouldn’t lie to your kids, Caroline,” you coolly said with icy impact.

You watched her eyes start to shine and water.

“Jesus,” you muttered, “Don’t fucking cry.”

She broke down immediately. You sighed with annoyance. ‘why did she have to come today of all days and act like this. It’s not a big deal. God.’

“You’re such a bitch and my kids have done nothing to you except love you unconditionally. The least you can do is show up,” Caroline struggled to stand out of the chair and when you reached out to help, she snapped like a firecracker and hissed, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

She groaned as she bent down, holding her belly and reached for her nappy bag, that she let you help her with. She suddenly looked so tired and deflated compared to when she had ducked into the elevator. You started to feel a tick of that itchy sympathy. Pregnancy always looked hard. Her first birth was so difficult, the second slipped right out but she didn’t have an epidural and the third time was an emergency c-section. In fact you weren’t even sure if she was meant to be having this fourth baby. It would be too risky. She could honestly kill herself. Now that was a bolt of fear that coursed through you.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” you sniffled, trying to distract your little sister from her anger.

She looked even more offended and scoffed, “You know, if you had even tried to come to my baby shower, you could’ve eaten one of the gender reveal cupcakes.”

‘Ouch.’

You looked down at your Valentino pumps. Seven years younger than you and she still managed to put you in your place with the snap of her fingers.

She rubbed her wet eyes with the tips of her fingers.

“I worry about you...” she mumbled, “You might have a lot of money Y/N, but money can’t buy you everything. Don’t you want to share memories?”

You tried hiding the laugh limbing your throat,, “Not this argument again...come on, I’ll walk you out and hire you a cab.”

You escorted her back to the elevator, all your employees watching and whispering about it. You knew your office needed thicker glass.

As you quietly pressed the button down, your sister finally said, “It’s twins. A boy and girl.”

You didn’t say anything for a while. Eventually you only nodded and whispered, “Congratulations. You and Tim must be excited.”

“Jim," she grounded, "-and I are flat out on our feet with the others but yea...I’m thinking about naming the girl after mom.”

Again you didn’t respond. You wanted this interaction to be finished. You wanted to go to work and drink away the days leading up to New Year’s. Maybe you should take a trip overseas. You might run into a handsome one night stand with an attractive accent.

Your sister turned and hugged you again, she rubbed her sweet face into your shoulder and sighed, “I’m sorry for snapping. Please don’t be mad. Please promise me you’ll come to the party, even for five minutes.”

Her pleading eyes finally cracked your ice wall.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

The squealing giggle of delight made you groan internationally instantly regretting your words. Nonetheless you took it upon yourself to at least hug her back. God help you, you didn’t know how you’d survive.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

10:00pm, 24th December 2023, New York City.

On your way home you discovered with aggravation all the cabs and ubers nearby had been booked up and the traffic in the city horrendous. Of course. On Christmas eve it would look like this.  You decided to march your way to the subway. It would be the quickest way back home.

You had to cross the park to get there though.

And among your walking you passed a man laying down on a bench. He wore a baseball cap that hid his face. He wore a blanket over his shoulders. A puff of cold air escaped his pink lips.

His shadowed face peered up at you and held up a piece of cardboard that read the following: Homeless, please donate a food and blankets.

And something inside you cracked again. You fought the urge to pull out your purse and give him the only hundred dollar bill you had. You looked him up and down. And froze. Next to him was a bottle of liquor. Something malicious dripped from your lips. Words filled with cruelty and hate. It was bold and dangerous. But you bet he was drunk.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t there any shelters taking in scum? Are all the prisons full? Maybe if you got off your ass and got a real fucking job, you would be too busy making money instead of swilling down booze!”

He did not react in the way you expected. He smiled at an ankle, winked and held a finger up to his lips.

Your face curdled in disgust and hacked back your throat, spitting on him.

“Booze bum,” you muttered, and marched on, away from him.

Your chin jerked high. It was a method of teaching you had learnt in your youth. Shame someone until they commit to a goal and out perform it. To this day you are still doing that very thing, why not share that gift of knowledge with others?

You scowled the entire train ride home and flicked through your emails.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

11:10pm, 24th December 2023, New York City.

Alone in your penthouse apartment, you padded your way to bed scrolling through your phone. In your hand you cradled a wine glass and set it on the bedside table.

Beneath the soft cotton covers you sighed happily and used your phone to command the fireplace to be lit up. A fake flame on a flat screen tv with heaters all around you, filling your place with warmth.  Laying back into your pillows you scrolled your phone and frowned at all the Christmas themed posts online, all the tutorials and recipes you’d never follow and all the Christmas stories you’d never read.

Tossing the phone beside your wine glass, your hands snuck down into a drawer and retrieved your absolute best friend in the world. She was thick, long and quiet, totally sky blue and had twenty different settings. You slid the vibrator under the covers and shimmied out of your underwear. Your fingers fumbled, touching your wet cunt.

The alcohol was finally hitting you, warming you up. You weakly reached for your vibrator. You knew it would be a comfort to take away the anger and stress away from your day at work.

You pressed the silicone to your clit and switched on the toy. A soft sigh came from you as you rubbed it along your lower lips. You fluttered your eyes shut and tried to imagine a person and you having sex.

‘A policeman? No. College professor? No. Loser doorman? No…’ and then your eyes flickered in a quick vision of the homeless man from the park… ‘Yes. He must be miserable, pissed off, angry, he smiled but that would have been a lie, his long finger he held to his mouth should stuff itself inside me.’

Your hand slid up and pulled down the front of your night down. You dug your nails into your breast before tugging your nipple hard. You whined as you bucked your hips into your toy that you playfully prodded and tore out of you. You imagined that same stranger ripping your dress from your body and dragging you into the snowy woods.

Rape fantasies weren’t uncommon for you. It was something about the power struggle that sent thrills up and down your spine. You liked the pain. You liked being forced to give up your control. You slid the plastic cock deep into your slick pussy and mewled.

The homeless man would hold a knife to your throat and bend you over a log, no, no, that bench, so out and open and public for anyone to catch him tearing you apart. His hand would lick your skin in stinging slaps. The alcohol on his breath would be putrid. He’d call you names, whore, slut, bitch, cunt, fuckpig. And you would be totally helpless…

You lazily rolled over onto your belly and forced your ass up, your bed sheets falling down your thighs.

You pushed the dildo back in deep and turned on the highest setting, biting the pillow under you. You fucked yourself hard until it hurt.

The homeless man fantasy went on and on, forcing you to cum and cry. You didn’t care if neighbours or tenants below you heard. You imagined this terrible man after fucking you raw making you sit in his filthy lap, fucking you with the empty liquor bottle neck and letting strangers walking past the chance to spit on you and slap you until you cummed.

The fantasy didn’t have a fanciful ending fleshed out. You could only imagine him dragging you back to some ghetto homeless tent village under one of the city bridges and whoring your cunt out to his homeless buddies. You wanted to submit, to be used like that…

But not in the real world. Fuck no. Your reputation mattered greatly. You were too stubborn to willingly date a man and ask him to do something taboo like consensual non-consent play.

You tore the blue cock out and pressed it to your clit, riding out an ultimate orgasm that left your body feeling like jelly. Slumping forward you groaned into the pillows, you knew you had to eventually get up and pee. The alcohol still in your system made the journey feel almost impossible. But when your bare ass hit the seat, you leant back and sighed. 'UTI prevented!'

Getting back to bed wasn’t as hard as getting to the bathroom. You breathed in the smell of your own sexual prowess. No shame. You put away your toy and before you could search for your discarded underwear, you heard your phone pinged. You grunted with annoyance.

You glanced at the screen; it was a text from Caroline.

*Told the kids you are coming tomorrow! They’re so excited to see their aunty! Xoxo*

‘oh right…her Christmas party…it’s tomorrow…' you still hadn’t even looked at the invitation. Anger started burning its way into your chest when you saw the emojis and gifs she attached. Santa and reindeers and snowmen. God you fucking hated Christmas!! She didn’t need to remind you. You didn’t plan to be there longer than the strick three hundred seconds. The miserable evil stabbed your heart again.

It out you so over the edge you began to type, *Tell them I changed my mind, I’m busy.*

Before your thumb could slam on the message send, something strange occurred. The penthouse apartment lights started to flicker on and off repeatedly.

‘A circuit must’ve snapped. I know I turned off all the lights.’

You slammed your phone down and ripped off your bed sheets. Marching over to the telecom beside you door you prepared the mental speech of anger and abuse you’d deliver on whatever poor soul was handling the front desk of the apartment complex tonight.

You pressed the button hard and when no welcoming comment came you decided to wait.

You waited and waited and still no one acknowledged you over the telecom. There was a noise coming from it though. It was a sound of ragged breathing. Squinting with absolute judgement you hissed into the microphone.

You sobered up your voice and rubbed your eyes. Your wine was knocking around your insides at that point, it had polluted your blood. You just needed to stay awake for a little longer.

“This is penthouse three. Your lights are dimming and flickering out. I want someone to change all that bulbs and check the power wires immediately. Do I make myself clear?”

The unusual panting was still there and getting louder. You shook your head. Someone should’ve been repeating back your request and discussing a mode of action.

“Hello?” you angrily huffed into the microphone when no answer came for a long time.

You hissed, “Now you listen here. I don’t give a fuck it’s Christmas eve. You’re job is on the line if you cant fix my fucking lights.”

And then the line went totally dead and your apartment was entirely darkened. You groaned with anguish. Using your phone flash light you returned to your room.

“Fine,” you grumbled as you pulled the covers Of your bed back again, “Probably too drunk on eggnog to give a damn. Say goodbye to those two dollar tips dickhead.”

You laid back and fished out your bonnet, carefully lipping your hair inside the protective layer. You rolled onto your side under the covers and shut your eyes.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

12:00am, 25th December 2023, New York City.

For some reason at 12am you received a very obnoxiously loud phone call. Blindly you reached for it and accepted the call. You had a suspicion it was a prank call from overseas.

“Y/N,” said the caller. Your eyes cleared up fast at the sound of a voice you knew too well.

You almost dropped your phone. Surely it wasn’t her calling. You had seen her body at her funeral. She chuckled on the other side, her voice was just as rusted as you remembered. In the dream she had come over to your house and had a sleep over together.

Your eyes widened, “Wh-who is this?” you asked, “Do you fucking know what time it is?”

The identical voice of your passed companion echoed back, “In life you knew me as Marlene Jeong.”

You hung up the phone fast and sat up straight. Her hands trembled and the phone screamingly made another phone call from the same unknown number.

You answered it and heard her shriek, “Don’t you know hanging up like that is rude.”

You took a deep breath in. And shut your eyes. No. It couldn’t be.

“This prank isnt funny,” you barked into the receiver.

“Well I’d hope not. You know I wasn’t a fan of funny,” she grumbled back.

You picked up the phone and huffed, “If you’re really Marlene...tell me something only I would know...”

The phone went quiet and clicked off. You smirked, 'Yea, that's what I thought you sick fuck.'

The air around you grew colder. With the power out you accepted that the central heating was out too. Getting out of bed you stumbled down the hall to the linen cupboard and pulled out a few more thicker blankets. When you returned back to your room you screamed and jumped ten feet in the air, dropping the load of blankets.

Marlene was sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. She was not herself and yet was at the same time. She looked the same except for the fact her entire body was a light blue and translucent. She was naked. And you could see her translucent organs. In her hand was a false spiritual cigarette. Smoking rising from the tip and faded into the darkness. And don’t let me forget a important detail. She was floating and parts of her body wrapped in chains.

Hearing you, she turned her face away from your phone and winked. You slammed back into a wall, trying to get away from her as she floated closer to you. She took a mean drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke into your fear filled face. You could’ve fainted. The smoke didn’t smell like anything and was rather a cold breeze to your cheek.

You flinched and whimpered, “Marlene...what the fuck.”

She smirked and rolled mid air upside down,

“Long time no see. Or well...you can’t see me but I see you basically every day,” she cackled.

Your lips fell apart, “Wha-how- why...why are you hear? Should you be dead?”

She flicked the cigarette of ash that turned into blue light specs and disappeared before touching the floor.

“Oh trust dear, I’m dead, dead as a doornail. Little Kyong gave me a killer orgasm, literally,” she took another long drag, “I had no clue what was coming and poof! I’m on the floor choking and groaning and next thing I wake up to, is you moving your shit into my office and my penthouse. But I digress sweet snake...I’m not here on a social call...I’m here to send you a warning.”

Your head felt dizzy, “A warning? The fuck? Am I going to die soon or something?” you wrapped your arms around yourself.

She smiled and shook her head, “Oh no...no, no....something a tad more painful. See, I have been sent to play 'angel Gabriel' so to speak and inform you of a supernatural message.”

She floated around, chains at her wrist dragged behind her as she did. Marlene sharpened her gaze at you.

‘Woah did I take one too many Percocet with my wine...I must be high.’

“You are saveable unlike my dead cold self,” she said flying back to your bed and lewdly laying down, “My dead frozen heart could not thaw,” she sighed and tapped her chest.

You could see inside her at the organ most resembling heart was literally made of icy and was not beating. It was disturbing.  

“I’m destined to float while tethered to the world unseen, unheard, unloved…forgotten. But you? You still have a chance to atone. A spirit shall arrive and come to you in three shades…Christmas past, present and future. It shall greet you hourly between one and three o’clock.”

You timidly stepped closer.

“You need to open your mind and open your heart or else-“ she floated above you and groaned, “This will be your future fate.”

You rubbed your eyes and slapped your cheek. Marlene’s ghost was still there. She held up her wrist, showing off the manacle around it, “This is a fate no one wishes, trust me on that.”

Her face leant in closer to your face. Her hair floated around her like water tendrils.

She rattled the chains together, clinking them and explained, “The spirit will test you. And they will test you fairly. They will decide what to do with you after. They call themselves, Christmas past, present and future.”

When she had said these words, Marlenes ghost faded away, disappearing into the cold, quiet night. It took you a few minutes to catch your breath. You couldn’t believe or make sense of it and no matter how many times you pinched of slapped yourself, you found yourself still in the unexplainable dream. You tossed the blankets from the floor onto the bed. You had another drink of wine before you chose to return to bed. You tugged the warmest and softest blanket up to your chin. You were scared and confused. Your eyes grew heavier as you forced yourself to forget and ignore the apparition of Marlene chained nude and talking in riddles.

You laid your cheek into the pillow and fell into a deep slumber.

HELPINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline services

India Helpline Services

[sensei-venus]

Could u write Yasmine in her bully phase, where she bullies chubby and geeky reader to cover up her feelings? She thinks reader is super cute with her sweaters but she also wants to push her head under those big sweaters and suck on her tits.

(Unedited) (Kinda want to make a actual fix around this?)

Yasmine couldn't deny, at least in her mind that she found the chubby geeky girl attractive. That was saying a lot seeing as she hadn’t even seen half the girl's skin outside one of those stupid sweaters. She wondered if the girl had stolen the Moshiwitz kid's whole closet sometimes because that’s all she wears to school. She had only seen the girls legs one time, when she was passing the gym going to one of her other classes. She had on the school-issued PE shorts and one of those stupid sweaters.

She stood to the side of everyone, away from the other kids in the gym as they played some kind of team game.

One's she got an eye full of cleavage when she finally took off that stupid sweater during class. It was just once but that was all it took for her to be addicted to her.

“ Awww if it isn’t miss chub chub nerd, don't eat all our lunch today, save some for the rest of us why don’t you.”

She laughed down the hallway to the lunch room. The chubby girl watched after the blond her as she left the hallway. Her eyes brimmed with tears of frustration, and she pulled at the bottom of her sweater. She just stood in the hallways deciding if she was going to actually go to lunch or not. After a few minutes, she decided to just go to one of the less crowded bathrooms away from the lunch room to hang out in until lunch was over.

Yasmine didn’t like the fact that the girl didn’t make an appearance behind her after the hallway incident a few minutes beforehand. She picked at her lunch and listened to some of the other girls go on about stuff. Mostly just new outfits or things about the boys in class. A few girls talked about a house party they all went to a week before. It was all noise in Yasmine’s ears.

She just wanted to see fatty already.

She liked watching her from afar. It was entertaining to see her during the lunch period.

But no she wasn’t there and it was boring.

A few minutes went by and Yasmine continued to grow more and more bored with every passing second, her patience growing thin. She quickly put on a fake smile as she turned ri the girls saying she needed to run to the bathroom really quick to go pee. She brushed them off when they offered to go with her. She got up and made a beeline out of the cafeteria and into the empty hallway. Her girl was no where to be seen. She thought back for a moment and tried to think of where the girl would go off to.

Her only thought was the bathrooms and since she didn’t go into the cafeteria she must have gone to another set of bathrooms. The most unpopular set of bathrooms where just a few hallways away. Yasmine made quick work of walking through the abandoned hallways and down to the bathrooms.

Walking into the bathrooms it was quiet and seemingly empty. She went through every stall and found nothing until she got to the last one. Old sneakers popped out from underneath the stall, and with one push of the door the stall opened.

Reader held back a yelp as the door to her stall was slammed open.

“Did you really think you could just run away? Like I wasn't going to find you.”

Reader wanted to just disappear as the pretty blond snared down at her. She just wanted to be left alone, she already knew the blond girl hated her. She constantly reminded her of the nasty insults and mean names. Or the occasional trip in the halls. She frowned at the memories.

Her eyes widened when she was pulled up from the spot on the closed toilet seat and made to stand. The blond smirked at her as her eyes looked her up and down. She almost felt like a piece of meat at this point with the way her eyes basically dug into her.

“You know I have always wondered what was going on under those ugly ass sweaters you wear. I want to see those fat tits you have up close and personal for once.” she smirked before grabbing at the bottom of the girl's sweater and yanking it up. Reader gasped as Yasmine pulled her sweater up and over her tits, stuffing the sides under her armpits to keep it from falling.

Yasmine really couldn't help the way her eyes widened as she looks at the girl's tits. They were huge and almost spilled out of her bra, her soft flesh spilled and bulged out of the top. Spilling over the cups. She grinned as str took notice that it cliped from the front, lucky for her. She snapped the metal clip and let the girls breast fall, they hung heavy in the air, her nipples soft and flat.

But not for long.

Yasmin grabbed both of her fat tits and squeezed them together, she even had the nerve to giggle before spitting a fat thing of drool on them. She lapped at both nipples making the girl quietly moan and close her eyes. Yasmine moaned and flicked at one of her nipples before she sucked it into her mouth. She violently sucked on the now hard bud, she kinda wished that she was lactating so she could call her a real cow. She moaned out around the fat nipple and shook her head violently, pulling the sensitive bud around. She did this for a while before pulling off with a loud pop.

The poor thing was completely raw and poked out. Reader whimpred as Yasmine tanker and pulled at her fat breasts. She jiggles them around in her grip as she spits on them again.

“Fuck! Look how hot these girls are, I should get you some nipple rings- how does that sound? I'll get your nipples pierced and buy you all new bras so I can make you take lots of pictures just for me. For about that, then you can be my real cow~”

She bit her lip as she watched the girl whimper and moan out for her.

Her own little chubby cow to play with her and smothers her with her fat tits.

[moodywyrm]

Okay okay can we talk about vi and periods?

I feel like hers are bad, but she’s always just pushed through them, she didn’t want to seem vulnerable or like a wimp since it happens every month. She tries to just ignore it, but once you get in the picture? You just want to take care of her. She’s hesitant at first, learning not to get attached, not to get used to intimacy, but once you finally break those walls down (it really didn’t take long, she’s desperate for affection), she absolutely melts. She lets you hold her, rubbing her stomach, if modern!AU you’d get her a heating pad while she lays with her head in your lap, whining every time you stop playing with her hair. She’s such a softie, she loves when you take care of her

For you, I feel like she’s such a natural caretaker with the people she loves, she’d immediately jump at the opportunity to do all the stuff you do for her, to you. She hates seeing you in any kind of pain, so she’s goes almost a little overboard making sure you’re feeling okay

I've been staring at this for days bc oh my god. Yes.

Vi was the leader of her little family, right under Vander. She literally Could Not show weakness because if she does, who are the others supposed to depend on? So when she started getting her period (at like 14), she learned real fast how to hide the pain of her Debilitating periods. You think it was hard hiding the pain from getting into fights in Zaun? Try concealing a vomit-inducing cramps, achy joints, pounding headaches, a lower back that feels like it's being yanked between two trucks, and boobs so sore a gust of wind makes you cry on top of it.

She got so used to being the caretaker that she didn't even hesitate when you two finally got together. She just immediately fell into the role whenever you got yours, cuddling you and feeding you your favorite foods, helping you bathe and pampering you however she can (However She Can. Baby ain't afraid of blood).

But you had known that she experienced really bad periods. You'd been friends for ages before you got together and you, loving her and being in love with her, caught on to her little winces, her slower gait, her extra caution for about one week a month. And you knew she was good at hiding pain, and you also knew she wouldn't let you take care of her just yet (you also didn't want to reveal your feelings just yet but that's neither here nor there).

But a month or two before you get together, she get's an awful fucking period. I'm talking baby woke up and bled through her clothes and also immediately vomited. You two already lived together, so when you heard her scramble out of her room at 2am, you're up and in the bathroom with her immediately.

You kneel down next to her on the bathroom floor, rubbing circles at her back and using one hand to keep her overgrown pixie cut out of her face,"It's okay, let it out."

And she does :( sweet girl is stuck over the toilet for another five minutes before she finally leans back against the edge of the tub, panting and wiping her mouth with the wet napkin you handed her. You immediately spot the mess of red on her grey sweats, and you wince.

"Oh honey, it's an extra bad one this time huh? Get those off, I'll bring you a change of clothes, just get in the shower," You're already hauling yourself up off the floor, constructing a mental checklist to help Vi feel better.

Get her clean clothes and a warm shower

In the meantime, change her bedding and soak in cold water. same with her sweats and underwear. Don't think about the fact that it's her underwear.

Get her something fatty and warm to eat, like a little bit of Jericho leftovers, and then give her pain meds and water.

??? Hol dher??? May Be??? If she lets you???

before you can even leave the bathroom, Vi is holding onto your leg with one warm hand.

"You don't have to do that pumpkin, I can handle it myself. Just go back to sleep."

But you can see the way she's cracking, nearly immobilized from the pain. She can't do this by herself, or she shouldn't have to. So you shush her and set upon your tasks, bringing her one of your t-shirts and a pair of her sweats plus some clean boxers, stripping her bed and bringing it to the bathroom sink to rinse it off in cold water.

It makes Vi feel better, to know you're so close. She's embarrassed because here is this beautiful, caring girl, sleep deprived and washing Vi's blood out of Vi's things. But she also feels ... good? Not physically, obviously, but there's something so nice about being taken care of. You're always doing that for her, taking care of her. Making sure she has breakfast and water, patching her up after fights, helping her clean up and repair her gauntlets.

It's only then that she realizes, I mean fully realizes, how much she wants to be with you. She loves taking care of you, but she also likes being taken care of by you. She like that she's allowed to let her guard down around you.

It hits her while she's showering, while she's getting dressed, when she meets you on the couch, when you're helping her eat and rubbing her back and her tummy to make sure she doesn't vomit again. She falls asleep in your arms, on your guys' couch, thinking about how much she wants to be with you.

It's no surprise that, not even two months later, she's yanking you into your apartment with a bruising kiss after winning a massive fight. You're her girl, her good luck charm, the one who takes care of her.

I have to leave for class in 26 min and I still have to do my makeup oh god oh fuck AH

[machlover54666]

Ur so Skibidi sigma have this picture of my greedy fatty mcfatterson dog so Skibidi toilet sigma alpha rizz

pestlover what has happened

why brainrot

[fartquen12]

Onceler headcannons :)

1. he defintly beats you bald and blue when hes mad.

2. refers to you a s a fatty mcfaterson

3. Hogs the toilet

4. lies to you every day

5. Invites the lorax over every day to piss you off

6. bites you when hes bored

7. farts on you in your sleep

8. when he cries he likes to scream into your chest and say that your a bitch <3

9. beats the actul shit out of his mom when she says your pretty

10. “your my woman.” *fart*

11. drools in sleep

12. adopted a rat and put it in your hair and let it poop for a youtube prank

13. features you on his prank channel where he abuses you <3

14. poops in your cancer medicine as a prank for his channel

15. has defenitly pooped in your car on roadtrips <3

[fat-slobby-gamers]

The investigation team thinking the fog has returned but it's just Chie ripping ass and being a big steamy fatty

"HAHAHA! WAIT! I'm gonna pee! Do-don't make me laugh anymore please! You're telling me it was you the whole time? Senpai came all the way here and the fog was just you stinking up a public toilet???" Yukiko laughed the multi ton blob was rolled on her sighed holding her gut as she descended into a laughing fit at her friend's expense.

"It's not funny! I almost blacked out! Those new big bang meat bowls are a health hazard! Who even likes that much heat in one meal? It was 10% meat 100% gut destroying spicy lard!" Chie pouted trying to ignore the countless judging eyes on her as she apologized yet again for the misunderstanding.