#Exercises for Muffin Top | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ceilidho · 6 months

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landscape with honey

summary: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 4. (read the whole thing on ao3 here) tags: light daddy kink, breeding kink, very nsfw, she/her pronouns for reader

He starts showing up at your house at odd hours.

You’re fixing coffee in the morning, still fuzzy and warm from sleep, only to hear the sounds of hammering outside. Wrapping yourself in just a housecoat, you find John fixing the loose step on your stairs, barely sparing enough time to greet you before returning to the task at hand. When he finishes, he brushes off your attempts to pay him for the job, just loading his tools back in the car and driving off.

You sip your coffee and wonder. Odd.

The next day, you find him raking the leaves in your lawn. Two days later, he shows up at the grocers when you’re picking up produce, and helps you carry all your bags to the car. He also adds a peculiar amount of canned goods to your order and when you fret and try to tell him that you don’t need the pickles and sauerkraut and beans and all of that stuff, he just lays a hand flat on your head and drags it down your hair until you go quiet.

He pays for the whole order.

You’ve never had to wonder about a man’s actions. Men are largely inscrutable to you, ever-shifting. They say one thing and mean another. They look at you like one might look at an oil painting, entitled something like Virgin Meeting Her Lover’s Eyes From The Top Of The Staircase or Landscape With Virgin. They speak to you as though an answer were entirely antithetical to their purpose in conversing with you.

John listens to you with a focus that borders on intimidating, like he wants to hear each word enunciated exactly how you might enunciate it. It has the sharp clarity of respect, of a mutual acknowledgement of humanity. He also comes over to fix your sink without you having to ask. The world of men is still largely confusing to you.

John grows surlier as the days grow shorter though. He doesn’t snap or snarl at you the way he does sometimes with his recruits (you rarely see him interact with them, but sometimes you’ll drop him off his lunch on the days when you’re feeling particularly generous and that’s when you’ll have the rare pleasure of hearing him shout at a trembling twenty-three year old for littering on the trail like a military captain), but it’s a near thing.

The worst is when he catches you on a jog one morning on his drive to work. You see his truck with the faded red paint pass you by and you give a short wave that he returns. He passes you by about half a yard before coming to a full stop and reversing. You stare at him as the window rolls down, brows furrowed.

“Hi Jo—” you start.

“Get in the car,” John growls. You hear the doors unlock.

“…My uh…my shift’s in two hours, John, I can’t just—”

“Get in the car.”

“This is my only time to exercise!”

“If I have to get out of this car and drag you inside, honey, I will. Don’t play with me. Get in.”

You get in the car. Probably wisely. Still dripping sweat and shivering from the cold—you’re not used to jogging in the winter, or at all for that matter, but it seemed like as good a time as any to start—you glance over to stare at the side of John’s face. His jaw is set, almost as if in anger. His knuckles are white over the steering wheel as he makes a U-turn and drives back into town. The cab of his truck smells like flannel pulled out from the back of a closet, almost musty, but comforting in the way that old clothes can sometimes smell. There’s a cigarette ashed out in the dish in front of the centre console.

He takes you to the nearest bakery for coffee and a breakfast muffin and stares you down until you eat the whole thing. You feel like you have to scarf it down. Customers bustle into the bakery to order coffee to-go and fresh cookies and scones in waxy paper bags; everyone in town knows each other so you try to avoid the more curious stares when they’re turned on you.

“This is weird,” you say, staring down at the crumbs on your plate. “This is really weird.”

“This is what you get for exercising before winter,” John says, flagging down the barista for another muffin and a refill on your coffee. “Waste of calories.” The last part is said derisively, almost with a scoff.

You frown. “Lots of people exercise. Even when it snows.”

“Winter is a time for hibernating. Not…sweat,” he says with a grimace, like the very thought is anathema to him.

"Hibernating?" you repeat skeptically, scrunching up your nose. "I mean, I spend a lot of time indoors, but I wouldn't say I'm hibernating."

John stares at you until you look away, flushed. "Finish your breakfast."

The barista returns with another blueberry muffin and a fresh cup of coffee. At least John's the one paying. When he finally seems satisfied, he hustles you home and leaves you off at the door with a stern warning.

“You gonna be good for me this time?” he asks, a finger curled under your chin, tilting your head up. One of his hands curls around the doorframe and your heart jumps when you hear the wood creak under his grip. This close, you can see the faintest silver streaks at his temples and the flecks of it in his beard.

“It was just a light jog,” you mumble, looking away.

“Not a light anything,” he warns, ducking closer until you feel like shrinking back, like disappearing into your house. “Bake a cake if you have to burn off energy so bad. I’ll be over around seven, alright?”

You mumble something, the words getting lost in themselves. It’s impossible to think with John in your space like this. It’s only when he finally pulls away and ambles back to his truck that you rock back on your heels, let go of whatever spell he had you under.

The first week of December hits town like a truck.

You’re trudging home alone after your shift when you make the decision to cut through the forest because you missed the last bus and you don’t want to spend an hour walking home. The first snow of the season has caught you off guard, clad in boots too autumnal and a sweater too thin for the biting cold. The flakes fall in thick chunks that stick for a brief moment before melting into the skin.

It’s not the first time you’ve travelled through the forest alone. The town is surrounded by pockets of the forest, like it can’t help enveloping whatever space is left for it. Oftentimes it’s easier just to cut through the woods rather than travel the long way around. You wouldn’t even call this the forest proper, not like the acres of trees sprouting over the mountains just off in the distance.

A bush rustles. Your eyes flick over for a second, breath hovering in your chest before you decide that it’s just a squirrel. Nothing ever happens in a town like this. The man from the other day notwithstanding, nothing truly bad ever happens. You keep walking down the partially demarcated path, lit only by the full moon overhead. It’s so dark that the snow around you is almost blue.

The bush rustles again. You stop this time, feet staying planted in the snow long enough for your feet to grow cold. You stare at the dark shoots covered in a layer of snow; it stripes the branches like candy from a time ago, licorice twisted with white bark, and it doesn’t move when you look at it. The bushes and trees are dense, impossible to peer through. Even walking through the forest doesn’t make you feel immersed in it. You follow a barely marked path, hard to see through the recent snowfall, and stare out into the dark woods with a kind of animal sense. Not sure whether you’re alone, whether something’s there with you, and whether it’s sensed you or if you’ve sensed it first.

You start walking again when your feet go numb. Better to just get home.

It comes behind you again as a slightly louder rustle. It’s harder to shake off the fear this time, harder to say that it’s just the wind. The snow crunches under more than one set of feet, branches cracking under the weight of something larger than you.

You don’t want to turn around, but the sound of something chuffing makes your stomach drop. The first thing that emerges when you turn to face it is its massive head, a white frosted muzzle, and the visible hump on its back. The wispy smoke of its breath puffs out when it breathes. Its eyes are dark, hardly reflecting any light at all. Then the rest of it emerges, the saplings bending out of its way as it clambers out of the woods and onto the path, staring you down all the while.

You’ve never seen a bear before. Not this close. Not so close that you know it’s been stalking you, know that it didn’t come upon you by accident. You’re staring down at your own body from somewhere else, fear displacing you. Rending you from your own body. There’s no way to guess its weight at a glance, but it’s easily twice the size of you, easily more than that.

When it takes a step forward, everything goes dark.

You wake up snuggled under the warmth of a thick blanket. Sleep is creamy thick, engulfing you on all sides, only the faintest prickle of awareness letting you know that you’re awake.

It’s unpleasant to leave the cotton miasma of sleep, you think. Your nose scrunches up and you let out a tired huff, trying to will yourself back into it. The harder you try to force yourself back into it though, the farther away it floats.

Still it weighs you down. It takes an age to work up the energy to so much as twitch a finger. Even your eyelids insist on staying shut. Yet, the prickle of consciousness needles at you as if to say hello, wake up, you need to get up. You sigh and try to shimmy up onto your elbows.

A hand shoves you back down. The breath rushes out of you.

“Get…back down,” a rough voice grunts from over you and then the full weight of a man settles on top of you, pressing you deep into the mattress.

Consciousness snaps back into you, elastic sharp. The weight of him pins you to the bed, makes you sink into the plushness of—and this is gradually coalescing in your mind—an unfamiliar place. All four corners of your body are trapped under him. The voice is familiar though. Ragged, brutal. A saw taken to the trunk of an old, thick tree, too many interior rings to count. You whisper John’s name and he grunts, making you flinch from how the sound reverberates through the side of your head.

Exhaustion is thick though and it leaves you heavy, even when John slowly lifts himself to his elbows from behind you. You feel him drag his body down the length of the bed, beard scratching into your skin with every petal soft kiss dropped along your spine during his descent.

“John?” you whisper, only just able to turn your head, not even able to struggle up to your elbows. “J-John?”

He doesn’t answer you. The room is near pitch black, only a window on the other end of the room with the curtain pulled back the smallest amount enough to let the moonlight in. Even the moonlight isn’t enough. You know from the shape of the window that this isn’t your house, that it must be somewhere else. You can only surmise from John’s presence that it’s his, but that thought passes over you like a rock skipping over water.

“Wher’m’I?” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut when his lips press over the small of your back. Sensitive there.

Rough hands with callused fingertips smooth over your ass, pressing into the flesh. His fingers pry your cheeks apart, thumbs dipping into the space between and pressing over your hole, making you burn all over. You’re too far gone to worry about any hair on your legs or anything about your body other than John’s hands undulating over your ass and thighs. You flinch violently when his teeth sink into the meat on the underside of your ass, so tender that even exhausted to the bone your body lashes out.

Big hands pry your legs apart. You flinch at the sudden hot breath over your sex, a whine tickling your throat. His face hovers so close to your centre that the tip of his nose presses on the tender skin near your entrance.

“Wha’ d’you…think you’re doin’...” you ask breathlessly. Your brain tries to order your leg to kick, but it stays flat and limp on the bed.

The first touch of John’s tongue along your slit makes you melt, the flat of his tongue lapping upward and making your hips tilt up with it. It almost makes your mind go blank again, almost tips you back into the unconscious world because the synapses in your brain stop firing the second you remember that it’s John between your legs licking hungrily at your cunt. John from the grocery store, John from the ranger’s station in the mountains—the John you’ve been crushing on and coveting for months now, content to just be friends with the gruff, handsome man in the house next to yours. Now sucking one of your nether lips into his mouth and tracing his tongue up the inside, gliding it over the supple flesh.

“Yer in the den,” John mumbles into your pussy and it’s like he sears the words into your brain. “‘N I’m takin’ care of you, honey.”

“The…the den…?” It’s so hard to keep your thoughts in order. Each flick of his tongue makes you gasp, pussy growing wetter and hips grinding languidly down on his face.

He hums instead of answering.

“Why’m’I so tired?” you slur.

His tongue saws over your clit from behind. It tears a broken whimper from you. You feel every textured ridge, the way it flicks around in a circle and then up and down again.

“Winter season,” John says, sucking your clit into his mouth until you whine at the top of your lungs. “Bear’s sleep in winter.”

“Tha’s silly. M’not a bear,” you moan.

“No,” he agrees, humming into your sex. “Jus’ mated to one. Makes you sleepy too, honey.”

“Mated?” you repeat back, but it’s lost in the way you moan when he eats your pussy from the back, licking into you with renewed vigour. Hungry like a bear. Grunting like a satisfied man, slurping loud enough to make your face heat up.

Words and old memories about bears hardly matter when the handsome man from next door spreads your legs wide, almost to the point of pain, and sinks his tongue into your hole again. You never would’ve expected John to be vocal, but he’s noisy behind you, groaning into your cunt. He keeps mumbling things under his breath that you can’t catch.

“John—” you gasp, biting your lip when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. “John—John—”

He only has to give you a single finger to tip you over the edge, feeds it in nice and slow. Your cunt clenches down at the intrusion, teeth nearly breaking through the skin of your lip.

When he crawls back over you, anticipation makes you shudder. You hear something faint in the background that grows steadily louder as John rests his elbows on either side of your head, until you realize that it’s your own voice murmuring, “Put it in, put it in, put it in—”

He obliges. A thick, steady plunge that hardly manages more than a handful of inches before you’re crying, and it’s too much, too much, too much. Pleasure not a limpid pool anymore but something cavernous and deep-dwelling, pulling you in or trying to make a home inside of you for it. John’s biceps tense with the strain of holding himself back.

You balance on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. There’s a single thought in your head that it might burn you up from the inside; it runs a jagged hole through you.

His nose drags through your hair. “Never expected you. Thought I’d go another season alone ‘till I started smellin’ you around town.”

You hiccup. “Y’never—never paid me any attention ‘for— before, ah—”

“‘Course I paid attention to’ya, honey,” John says into your ear, grunting when he drives deeper into your pussy, still just a languid grind of his hips, so mind-numbingly slow that your thoughts sizzle out of your head. He keeps dragging his hips back and plunging in, barely pulling away from you, all skin on slick skin. “Made a home for m’self in your house. Made sure we had ‘nough to eat for the winter.”

“The winter?”

“Won’t be goin’ anywhere for a few months.” He brushes your hair out of the way to kiss down your neck, giving in to the urge to bite just a little. His body stays pressed tight to yours, hardly an inch of space between the two of you. “Wasn’ sure at first if it’d be here or in your house so… fuck, I had to get ready. Make sure you’d be safe when it hit.”

“Don’ even…know wha’ that means,” you mumble into the mattress, then squeal and fist the fists when John shoves a hand under you to grope your chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shushes you. “All y’have to do now is lie there ‘n take my cock, okay, honey? Can’ya do that for me? I’ll get some food in you after we’re done, then send ya back to bed.”

Only a whine comes out when you open your mouth. John’s arm by your head forces you to breathe in the scent of him, musky and rich. You stare at the hair on his knuckles and his thick fingers gripping the sheets as well, old nicks and scars decorating his hand. You can’t stop staring at his fingers and thinking that he had one of those in you before, that he’s felt you from the inside.

He never pulls away, never changes positions, just fucks you on your tummy in his bed. You’ve never been in John’s bedroom before, but this has to be his room—even the pillowcase smells like him, pine needles and cigar smoke. He keeps up a steady pounding into your cunt, rutting like a wild animal. Has to be close. Gets so close to you that you feel smothered, trapped in place. Like if you struggled, he wouldn’t let up. You want to test it, see if you could, but the heaviness is still in your limbs, keeping you docile. Convenient. A little convenient thing for him to use, like a doll to get himself off with.

“Never coulda imagined such a pretty girl f’r me,” John groans, getting a grip in your hair to twist your head, tugging you into a kiss. Your whole body sparks to life, so shocked that you can’t even kiss him back at first. You wait until he pulls back, staring into his half-lidded eyes through the mess of your hair all tangled up around you. “Gave up on thinkin’ there was anyone out there. Thank fuck I found you first, honey. Can start workin’ on all the good stuff now. Get you to give daddy a baby.”

“D-daddy?” you gasp back, almost scandalized.

He pants into your shoulder, worked up now. “Yeah, honey. Don’ I take care of you? Buy y’r food, fix y’r house? Give you someplace nice ‘n warm to sleep?”

You feel soaked with sweat, twitchy, on the verge of something dangerous. Vision all fogged up, heart beating so fast that your skin buzzes. Stretched out on a fat cock and pinned in a man’s bed, nowhere to run or hide.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter when John gets a bit rougher, his breathing getting more staggered, laboured.

“That’s right, girl,” he grunts, “I’m y’r fuckin’ daddy then, aren’t I?”

Magma bubbles up from deep inside of you. Rockslides off in the distance beat against the ground. When you cry out, it gets lost in the rubble.

You stumble into the living room maybe hours later after using the washroom across the hall. Maybe a day later. It’s hard to say how many times the sun has risen and fallen behind the mountains. The clock face stares back at you uncomprehendingly.

Come drips out of you onto the floor. Thick droplets run down your inner thighs. John is still sleeping in the bed where you left him, snoring like a chainsaw. It must’ve been what woke you up. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been since he first brought you home, since he left a mess in your pussy, which is still puffy and sore from rough use. You walk with halting little steps to try to minimize the ache.

You stare bleary-eyed around the room. It feels somehow different than the previous times John’s had you over; there are more throws and blankets draped over the couch, candles scattered around the living room with a lighter on the mantle.

There’s a fire roaring in the fireplace, blanketing the house in a layer of warmth. It makes you sluggish, stumbling forward only a handful of steps before the shaggy rug in front of the fire drags you back down to the floor.

“What’re you doing out of bed, pretty girl?” someone rumbles from behind you.

“Had t’pee,” you say, blinking. You try to rub the sleep out of your eyes unsuccessfully. “Why’m’I still so tired? It’s been…I slept so long…”

“C’mon, honey,” John says, coming up behind you and curling his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Told you it was gonna be a long winter. Maybe just one more and then somethin’ to eat, okay?”

It’s easy to sink to the floor, so easy. Especially with the fluffy rug under your feet. Especially with the fireplace toasting you from the outside in, the tinder crackling in the hearth. Everything in the house is dark and warm, only the fire giving you any light at all. Outside the window, the moon is still heavy in the sky.

Something about the humidity of the den makes you suddenly so tired, boneless, pliable when he goes to move you, when John curves himself around you in the furs and reaches down to slide a hand between your thighs.

He grunts when he finds you wet and wanting, sinking a couple fingers in and palming your clit. He doesn’t talk much still, but he says good girl when he cants your hips and slowly stretches you out on his cock. Feeds it into you achingly slow, like molasses. Like nothing’s due for another few months, so why rush it? He’ll take his time so you’re nice and happy and sweet come spring for cubs.

You’re not sure what that means. The pace is slow and deep, like before but less intentional. Like he just wants to savour the warmth of your body.

When he finally comes deep inside you, your body goes limp, collapsing in a heap onto the rug. You expect John to pull out and turn over, maybe pull you onto his chest so you have somewhere to rest. Instead, he sighs all tired and content, and stays in you, still plugged up in your cunt, his spend only just starting to leak out into a pool beneath you.

“Are we gonna eat?” you mumble, already half-asleep.

Somewhere behind you, he laughs; it’s soft like a snowfall in winter. “Yeah, honey. After a nap, we can eat.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain price #captain john price #cod price #john price #price/reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader

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freeonlineworkouts · 1 year

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Exercises for Muffin Top

#Exercises for Muffin Top #exercise #Fitness workout #8fit #600k

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yandere-paramour · 4 months

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Chapter One - She Sets Her Eyes on You

"Good morning, my sweet. I hope you slept well. Please, allow me to explain."

Wake up. Exercise. Work. Eat. Sleep. Atalanta occupied a strict work-life balance. She woke at the same time each morning and slept at the same time each night, making minute changes per day but staying mostly static. It was like marching up an incline; sooner or later, she would be at the top, safe in the knowledge that the company was finally hers and she didn’t have to prove herself to anyone. But for now, she was steadily trudging through mountains of work, not really taking interest in it.

Everything changed when she saw you. Atalanta had already indicated she was busy, but she was momentarily out of her spacious corner office to receive a document. She was leaning over her secretary’s desk, waiting for the document as she surveyed the floor, scanning her eyes over each and every one of her worker bees when those hazel eyes landed on you. You were pushing a cart throughout the halls, offering her subordinates muffins, donuts, croissants, and free refills on coffee, courtesy of the company. You knelt down, rooting through your cart, tongue poked out of your mouth as you rummaged for a cinnamon sugar donut. You were lovely. Your soft, silky hair was pulled back, beautiful eyes focused on the task at hand, nails on your perfect hands short and clean as required by the job, but you were gone so quickly, down the elevator to push your cart to another floor.

Atalanta couldn’t breathe. Her first instinct was to run after you, sweep you up into her arms, and teleport you to her penthouse, making love to you all night and never letting you go, but she could not do that. It burned like fire but she was not prepared. She had not expected this, so she had no arrangements in place. You wouldn’t have your clothes or possessions or anything to make you feel at home in your new life with her. No, not yet; she needed to plan first. Her carefully constructed mask cracked, spreading a pink blush across her face. She turned, ignoring the voice of her secretary asking if all was well, rushing back into her office, all thoughts of the work day gone. Her computer was thankfully still awake; she didn’t have to waste precious time logging in and proving she was human. Within seconds she had your employee file pulled up, and within a minute, she had read it all. She said your name under her breath, tasting its sweetness. It was perfect. You were perfect. She let out a dreamy breath, cradling her head in her hands; she had found the precious Darling she had been looking for, and she was unwilling to wait any longer.

Switching to her email, she fired off three emails in quick succession. She informed her secretary that she was preoccupied for the next hour and if she was disturbed for any matter, it better be a matter of urgency. Next, she emailed her mother, the only person higher up in the company than herself. She informed her mother that she would be taking a few days off as she had finally found her Darling. Mother never strayed far from her phone so an email would follow quickly. Lastly, she contacted her Intelligence. She would spare no expense for the safe delivery of her Darling y/n, and Zachariah would be certain to take the proper precautions in handling them.

Her email tone sounded, and she looked: Mother had responded!

“That is delightful, Dearest. Take as much time as you need. I do hope you take the lessons I imparted to you about your Father into account; it took him such a long time to settle down and stop running away but now he is as happy as can be. We just went to the theatre the other day! When you get a chance, tell me about your love, and in time, perhaps the two of you can join us. Your Father and I will be delighted to meet her! I send all my love, Mom.”

Atalanta smiled a rare generous smile. Mom always was so supportive; one of the few people who truly loved her. Everything was coming according to plan. She took a deep breath, leaning back in her chair. Simply a little longer. She just had to wait a little longer and y/n would be with her, right where she belonged.

▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△▲△

During your break, the manager of food services handed you a bottle of juice with your name on it. He usually didn’t care, but he explained it was a new corporate policy that all employees maintain adequate hydration levels to lower rated of illness. It was a strange explanation, but hey: rich people were strange. The Montclair’s were no exception, you assumed. The drink was unopened, and you were thirsty anyway. Cracking the seam on the plastic bottle, you kicked back on the secondhand couch in the break room, ready to scroll on your phone for your allotted downtime.

The drink tasted like normal apple juice, and the rest of your concerns vanished. If you got to enjoy your break with some free juice, that was cool with you. The Instagram Reels weren’t anything novel or important, but they were funny enough to pass the time. You were mostly just glad for the chance to sit; pushing that cart across 28 floors twice a day got pretty tiring.

Now that you had thought about it, you were really tired. A headache was steadily growing, and the bright colors of the videos started to blur before your very eyes. Did you not sleep well last night? You weren’t really a coffee drinker, but maybe you should start, especially if you were going to be a sleepy little guy at work today. You checked the time as you bit back a quick yawn. You had 18 minutes left. Studies you had vaguely heard of said that was the optimum length for a power nap. If you set an alarm on your phone now, you could get your nap and get back to your shirt. You easily closed your eyes; it felt like they had lead weights attached to them. Just 15 minutes and then you go back to work. Easy.

You didn’t dream. It would be silly to dream on a nap that short; REM sleep needs an hour to really start. It was a very peaceful sleep though; you conked straight out. Luckily, your alarm was the kind of earworm-y, blaring sound that would definitely wake you. You hadn’t heard it yet, so you must still have time. Well, it was a peaceful sleep. That headache had come back, and with a vengeance. You needed water, and your stomach grumbled. Dimly, you remembered the power bar you had. It was only like 25 minutes ago, you shouldn’t be hungry yet.

The cloudy haze over you started to lift, and you shifted in your bed. Bed? Bed. Even though your eyes were closed, you definitely felt a mattress with sheets and a comforter over you. Wow, you didn’t remember any of the rest of your shift. Were you really that exhausted? You really should’ve invested in some melatonin.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, your eyes began to open. Instantly you were baffled. You had somehow wound up in a resplendent bedroom. It was beautifully, tastefully decorated in shades of grey and blue with a modern feel to it. The overall space was large, bigger than your whole apartment. There was a sitting area with a couch and set of armchairs, a large window overlooking the city with dark blue curtains swathed over it, and two doors leading somewhere on the far wall. Probably a bathroom or closet, your addled mind supplied. In any other circumstances, this bedroom would be amazing. It was like looking into a celebrity home, where you could see and touch all the expensive and irreplaceable objects they had that you would never be able to afford.

You shifted your body, trying to get out of the bed. Had you gone home with someone? Slept with someone? You weren’t dating right now, especially not to someone this wealthy. Your limbs felt heavy like chains were weighing your arms and legs down, but when you looked, it wasn’t anything. You were wearing different clothes, clothes you had never seen in your life. Black silk pajamas with white outlines covered your skin, and it felt amazing. Usually, your skin was so sensitive that the slightest irritant sent you into a world of rashes and hives, but your temperamental skin seemed to enjoy silk. Too bad you’d never be able to have any. You’d have to give these pajamas back at your first chance. Struggling mightily to move your muscles the right way, you tried to sit up.

"Darling, please lay back down. You are still disoriented from your medicine and I do not want you to accidentally get hurt," A voice came from your right, startling you.

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thescrumptiousstuffs · 9 months

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Only Friends, Episode 5 - The Extra Hour

In which we get Sand’s backstory (and proving once and for all he is the best boy ever, even P’Jojo said so!) before petty Boston ruins everything (again 😩)

Sand and Ray

Gosh…these 2 are everything this episode. We start with a montage of how mundane and boring Sand life is - study, working his multiple jobs, exercising, counting his finance and repeat…until Ray comes beaming into his life, and really give some much needed sunshine (heh, see what I did there?) to Sand’s life - and as per Sand, “his 25th hour.”

I love the domestic scenes we get - from Ray pretty much moving in with Sand (I suspect some time has passed by from the previous episode), to their domestic horny stuffs, to Sand catering Ray’s every whim. But as much as Sand spoils Ray, Ray actually does the same - he could have chosen not to go on the bike with Sand (after whining how hot and dusty it will be), he could have chosen not to model and indulge Sand’s desire for him to wear Sand’s style of clothes (after again whining halfheartedly it’s not his style).

I believe Ray is gradually but surely moving on from his unrequited love for Mew. He likes getting to know Sand - from all the above, to following Sand to the makeshift concert (and the song choice!! It’s from one of P’Jojo’s list for Sand’s Spotify!). And the fact that everytime Sand is with him, they are in their own world (I mean, poor Summer - she never stood a chance with Ray 😂…are we sure Ray is a playboy? So far, all I’m getting is him being hyper focus on one person when he likes someone - previously Mew, now Sand).

I also love the serious conversations these 2 have surrounding their births and their respective relationships with their parents - it makes such a good foundation for their blossoming friendship (and hopefully relationship). Gosh, the parallel of both being born from unexpected pregnancies - but Sand’s mom (and her gaggle of go-go women, I LOVE THEM) deciding to embrace him and raise him right (just look at how independent and self-reliance he is! P’Jojo tweeted how Sand is someone you want as a boyfriend in University, and I agree wholeheartedly) while Ray’s mom unfortunately fall into post-partum depression and spiralled into alcoholism (and the way Sand’s hand shook when he poured the alcohol drink for Ray, before the camera zoom to Sand looking at Ray to the bottle while Ray looked somehow bitter and sad - yes, FK again showing their supremacy in acting 👌)

But urgh, their blossoming relationship is now in tatters because of Boston being bitter and petty. I think Boston being informed by Mew that the latter is giving up his virginity to Top put him at edge. (And him yet again using Nick to forget about the fact, hence the reason he asked Nick whether he could stay the night at Nick’s place, when it’s usually the opposite)

And so to see Ray moving on, being happy with Sand - it snapped him. Boston is the type of person who can’t stand not winning, and I also think he has the mentality of “if I’m not happy, nobody can.” 😫

I still do not believe Ray and Mew slept together, so whatever Boston is spouting “are you two timing him?”, what does that even mean? Also, Mew called to say he was giving his virginity to Top…and even if they did slept together, it was TWO years ago. And now Ray knows Boston took pictures of RayMew kissing each other…gawd, Boston just sounded delusional during that whole scene.

In whatever case, the damage is done. And we see Sand guarding his heart again, despite Ray genuinely trying (for the first time) communicating by stating “If there is something you want to know, ask me, I’ll answer them.” Unfortunately, Sand is weary and it didn’t help Ray kept saying they were just friends each time someone asked what their relationship are (cause you know, Ray is a disaster muffin who won’t know he is in a relationship eventhough he basically did couply things with Sand). Urghhh…my heart just breaks for them 😭😩😫…and to end the episode with Sand shedding a tear and feeling alone (despite Ray lying next to him)…I don’t think I can forgive Boston for breaking their newfound happiness.

Nick and Boston

Which brings me to the toxic relationship of these 2. We see Nick trying to become more like Top. He exercising regularly to shape up and dress more smartly to capture Boston’s interest. But urgh…Boston as usual, plays it enough to make Nick happy (and the poor boy, Boston paying attention to the changes and commenting it, Nick thinks these are all positive things).

We also see Boston stating to Nick he wants to stop sleeping around (really?? When hell freezes over) because one of his conquest took video/photos of them together and Boston having to threaten said conquest to delete the incriminating footage (if that is not foreshadowing of what may happen to Boston in the future, I’m not sure what is. Also, Nick still has the recording of TopBoston….)

But what truly devastated me was when Boston spewing all the nonsense to SandRay that led to the massive fight between Ray and Boston; Ray warned Nick about Boston’s callous and selfish nature, and Nick just resignedly acknowledged it, fully aware he is too in love with Boston, and can’t seem to find a way out of it.

I’m sorry, but I can’t see any redeemable qualities in Boston 😭😭😭 (I love you, Neo and your acting in this series, 👌 - but urgh, Boston makes my blood boils)

Top and Mew

I can’t pinpoint it exactly but there is something not quite right with their relationship. On one hand, Top is sweet and attentive to Mew (I can see why Mew fell in love with Top). But twice now in this episode, 2 strange men stared (and smiled almost creepily at Top - with both time Mew clocking it? But not really addressing it). And Top genuinely doesn’t seem to be aware of the staring itself (or are we meant to think it’s all in Mew’s head? And it’s just Mew being insecure? 🧐🤨. I mean Mew did warn Top in the first episode he can become obsessive). I also do not believe one bit Top has given up on his drug habits plus his side eyeing Boston while shading both Boston and Ray in front of Mew (albeit subtly), is he slowly trying to manipulate Mew and isolate Mew from his group of friends?)

Nonetheless, Mew and Top did fall in love (or at least we are led to believe they are in love) and well, Top popped Mew’s cherry. What I cannot fathom is WHY Mew called Boston (of all people) to tell him the news. I can understand why he didn’t call Ray (so that he doesn’t rub on Ray’s unrequited love), but why not Cheum? Who from the get go rooted for TopMew. I’m not sure whether Mew has an ulterior motive or he genuinely thinks Boston will be happy for them as one of his bestie. Either way, Boston is NOT a happy camper (as we are aware) and took it out on SandRay newly found happiness.

Ray, Mew, Namchuem, Boston

Now more than ever, we are seeing cracks in their friendship. Ray and Boston don’t seem to get along without Namchuem and Mew. Ray and Mew (for obvious reasons) are probably talking the bare minimum with each other (and the fact that Top clocked on Mew and Namchuen basically doing the bulk of their hostel project tells you something). I feel the most sorry for Namchuen who has to deal with 3 sorry excuses of boys (cause let’s be honest, all 3 are disastrous in different ways)

Anyway, as usual, each episode makes my head spin and this is just me trying to figure out what’s happening. The preview from episode 6 seems wild with Mew’s birthday and Mew punching Ray? Oh dear…it’s going to be more heartbreak 😩😫😣…but onward and forward, is it Saturday yet?

09/09/2023

#only friends the series #khaotung thanawat #first kanaphan #episode 5 #firstkhao #firstkhaotung #sandray #force jiratchapong #book kasidet #TopMew #Neo trai #mark pakin #bostonnick #I’m going to do a prayer circle ⭕️ that SandRay is going to survive this and we get them going to a musical festival somewhere #gmmtv series #thai bl #this is me again gathering my thoughts before next week episode

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nerdestiwrites · 3 months

Text

predator and prey chatper six (hazbin hotel reader insert)

Alastor had been right when he said Charlie had a bunch of activities planned. She started it bright and early, having made everyone breakfast, in an attempt to bring everyone together to get some form of conversation started, to try and get everyone to build stronger relationships. You could admire the ambition that she had, and you were sure to thank her for the room and the mints that had been left on the pillow, even explaining how you hadn’t been serious about them but still appreciated them.

The princess asked what everyones favorite breakfast meal was, so she could keep in mind for the next time she decided to cook for everyone. She planned on circulating through everyones chosen breakfast at least once a month. Eight people, eight big breakfasts, the rest of the time breakfast would be a private ordeal. You hadn’t been a big breakfast person while alive. You enjoyed the food of course, french toast and muffins having been one of your favorites, but you never actively ate those foods for breakfast. It was either brunch or breakfast for dinner.

While Vaggie and Charlie were talking, it was Sir Pentious who spurred the trust exercises. He didn’t trust anyone in the hotel, which was a fair standpoint in your opinion. You both had just arrived and in Hell, niceness usually came at a harsh price. It also wasn’t unwarranted. You weren’t exactly being open and honest about your true reasons for joining the hotel and you weren’t exactly going to at any point in the future.

Alastor had left for the day, being forced to take Sir Pentious’ eggs by Vaggie, and you almost felt bad for the snake demon. While the eggs were a bit obnoxious they also held a sort of charm to them and seemed to mean quite a lot to him. You knew where the Radio demon had headed to, the Overlord meeting.

The trust exercises weren’t thrilling. Trust falls were a bit cliche in your opinion, and you didn’t know exactly what you would say. So when Niffty ran up onto the stage and jumped off, everyone took a step back, allowing the small demon to land face-first on the ground. Her laugh was one of hysterics, and she stood and ran back up onto the stage, just to throw herself back off, enjoying the pain it brought. Charlie dragged Vaggie off to talk for a few minutes just between the two of them.

“So, toots, you haven’t even looked at me twice today, am I not your type?” Angel asked as he slouched over the couch, his top set of arms crossing while the bottom kept him supported.

You raised an eyebrow as you turned to face the spider demon, “I don’t have a type.” Your answer was simple and blunt. Growing up you always had felt different from everyone, all your friends talking about crushes and their ‘firsts’. You never found yourself attracted to anyone, it never bothered you either. The idea of romance was something you only entertained when it was fictional, or hypothetical, but you could never actually see yourself be with someone for any reason, romantic or sexual. That was the reason you had died without even having a first kiss, it was never something you concerned yourself about.

Angel blinked twice before frowning. “Don’t have a type? Oh come on, I’m everyone’s type! Especially down here! I can be whatever you want me to be, toots.” He continued.

“I don’t have a type. Never was interested in sex, the act or idea.” You shrugged and watched as he seemed to mull over your words.

“Really?” Sir Pentious spoke up and slithered up to stand beside you, a look of interest across his face.

You nodded in answer. “Really. Just wasn’t my thing.”

Before any more questions could be asked by anyone else, Charlie returned with Vaggie, clearly excited as they explained that Vaggie would be taking over on the trust exercises from that point onwards for the day. The rest of the day had definitely gone more interesting as Angel had suggested going to a sex club to try and build trust, and when that didn’t work, Vaggie took everyone to the more dangerous side of the city. A current turf war between two lower demons who seemed to think they were hot shit was rolling through the streets, gunshots and screams could be heard all around. You opted out of the exercise, you knew far too many people on that side of town and didn’t want to be recognized.

You returned to the hotel and went to the kitchen. You had your phone playing music softly, just on shuffle as you didn’t have any particular mood you wanted to listen to. Luckily, and thankfully, most musicians seemed to end up in Hell for one reason or another, which meant you still got to consume new genres and new songs as well as listen to some of your old favorites. Even some of your favorite artists who had long since past you now got to listen to new music that the people back on Earth alive wouldn’t ever hear until they died.

You cooked a simple meal, a grilled cheese, as you didn’t have the energy for anything more than that. Grilled cheese has always been a comfort food of yours, especially when paired with tomato soup. Your favorite had been when your parents would cut the sandwich into different shapes when you were still just a child. Or when they’d make ramen noodles, the cheap fifty-cent packaged ramen, and would add food coloring to it to change the color of the noodles and broth, always called it something stupid like brains or guts.

You smiled sadly, fondly, at the memories as you watched the cheese on the two pieces of bread, waiting for them to melt. Your hand reached for your phone and you turned down the music, eyes narrowing as you thought you had heard your name being called. You paused the music next, turned to face the entrance of the kitchen, and waited for a second. Quiet, everyone was still out. You were the only one in the hotel still.

You push play on the song once more, keeping the volume quiet as you focus back on the sandwich, placing the two pieces of bread together once the cheese has melted to perfection. Again, your head snapped towards the kitchen doorway as you once more thought you heard your name, this time followed by footsteps rapidly approaching.

You turned the music off once more, grabbed the pan, and placed the grilled cheese onto a plate. You couldn’t help as your mind wandered to all the shitty horror movies you had watched while alive, it had been one of your favorite movie genres. The shittier the better in your opinion. You sat down at the island and took a bite out of the grilled cheese and gave a low humming noise in response. Not as perfect as the ones you used to make, but still good enough to get praise.

A text appeared at the top of your phone as you scrolled and you smiled. You tapped on the text and responded. Finally, someone knew something or someone who knew more about the damned Radio demon. You asked for more information and turned the phone off as you felt the air shift. You reached over and grabbed another plate from the cabinet underneath the counter and placed it beside you. Then without a word, you placed your other half of your sandwich on the plate and offered it to the demon who now stood behind you.

Alastor didn’t say anything but you knew he was there. You took another bite out of your sandwich and motioned for him to take the plate, or to take the seat beside you. A moment passed, then another, and then the sound of the stool beside you being pulled out filled the silent air. He sat down next to you and looked over the sandwich with slight suspicion.

“It’s not poison. I’m literally eating it right now.” You answered the unasked question and you glanced at him. He laughed twice, a dry laugh that you weren’t entirely certain was his actual laughter. He picked the half sandwich up and looked it over.

“I am not a fan of liars.” He said, the radio filter covering his voice ever-present as he seemed to pull the crust off the sandwich. You watched, amused, as you didn’t think that the great Alastor would be one to be averse to crust on a sandwich.

You wiped your mouth and grabbed up your now empty plate, your stomach only partly satiated for the time being, and placed it into the sink for it to be washed later. “I haven’t said a word to lie about.” You answered simply and turned to face Alastor.

He hummed once. “Last night. Your clothes.”

“Oh right, yeah I lied about that.” You shrugged, took a step toward the island, and leaned against it, resting your head on your hand as you watched the other closely. “And?”

“You were out much later than what it should’ve taken to pack a bag as small as the one you brought.” He finally took a bite out of the now-cooling sandwich and you grunted. It would’ve been better if he had eaten the sandwich when it was still warm.

You nodded, not denying the fact as you watched him for a moment before looking away. “You’re right. I got distracted. Really that simple, but not exactly a good first impression.” Make yourself seem unimportant and useless, and then the Radio demon won’t be interested in you any longer. Make him believe that you were a nobody, and even he wouldn’t be able to stop your plans.

Step one was already complete thanks to the help of Velvette. Start breaking the rift, the cracks in the relationships that held the Overlords together. It was weak already, barely holding on by a thread, all it needed was a few more hits and down it would crash.

For a split second, it looked like Alastor was going to ask another question but he stayed silent. He finished the half of the sandwich you gave him and threw the crust away, placing the plate on top of yours inside the sink. “I am sure today was a much better first impression with everyone then.”

You nod and stretch, hearing the front doors of the hotel open and the voices of everyone returning filling the otherwise silent hotel. “Oh absolutely. I just cannot wait to see where this all goes.” You said and you couldn’t help the second meaning slipping in with your words, that you knew Alastor picked up on by the twitch of his ears. You give a single nod and quickly make your way out of the kitchen to meet back up with everyone to see how the rest of the day had gone, leaving Alastor alone in the kitchen.

--------

A/N: Hey! I would first like to say thank you to everyone who's read the fic so far! I am so glad y'all are enjoying it! You have no idea how excited and happy I am to see y'all excited and happy LMAO. Secondly, because I'm silly and goofy and love making playlist, I went ahead and made a playlist for this! It's liked just down below if anyone of ya wanna listen!

tags: @luleck @rl800 @literalzxmbie

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hetaologist · 2 months

Text

APH America "Ethnography" and Headcanons (SFW)

The United States of America, Alfred F. Jones, Mr. Stars and Stripes, 'Merica, Pretty Boy, um... or just simply America.

Here is a list of data I have gathered from this country and oh boy, what an interesting specimen we have here....

Ethnography

You will find this find this mythological creature at your local Walmart superstore during the evening hours on a weekday, sporting flannel loungewear pants (The plaid kind), a cotton t-shirt that definitely has been worn no less than two (2) times, Old Navy $1 flip flops, and a gray jacket.

When asked about his late night runs to the popular supermarket chain, his answer is just simply:

"There's nothing else to do and no where to go."

America's Cart Inventory for March 22nd:

One (1) package of "Mega Stuf Chocolate Oreos" for $5.97, One (1) 6-Pack of "Starbucks Frappuccino Chilled Coffee Drinks" in Caramel Flavor for $7.98, One (1) Family Sized Bag of "Flaming Hot Cheetos" for $5.94, One (1) "Furby Interactive Toy" for $39.19, and One (1) Stick of " Axe Apollo Men's Deodorant Stick" for $4.97. Total of purchase was $64.05 before tax.

When questioned about the "Furby Interactive Toy", he replies:

"Yeah dude, there's this thing I wanna make that's called a "Long Furby". Wanna come by my place and check it out?"

I agreed to the invination as it would give me a better look into his living space and lifestyle. He's very friendly person.

Living Space (Home):

Oh dear god, why did I agree to come here?

House is a what you would expect from a typical American college student such as:

"Saturdays Are For The Boys" banner flag, Marvel and DC posters, a very unsettling looking blue leather couch that looks like it has been through hell and back, random dumbbells and untouched exercise equipment, every game console from the 1972 "The Magnavox Odyssey" to the PS5, action figures from various popular TV shows and comics, an old KFC bucket with half eaten chicken on the coffee table and a shelf with a huge vinyl record and CD collection.

Conclusion: What a fucking gross nerd.

America offers a cold can of Coca-Cola, I accept it.

He shows me a very long light blue "Long Furby" from his collection, further proving how much of a dork he was.

When asked what kind of music he liked (in regards to his music collection), he replies:

"That's hard to answer, it changes every week. Because of my diverse music, I pretty much like everything. One week I could be listening to 1980's classic rock, 2000's techno-pop, Bluegrass Country, 1990's Hip Hop or anything. But, if I had to give you this week's favorite artist, it would have to be Taylor Swift and Doja Cat."

"Interesting..." I replied.

I have recorded enough data for today (the smell was bothering me) and left his home to do further extensive research.

Headcanons:

America has a deep love for cars and trucks, he can be seen working on his vintage 1968 Dodge Charger R/T called 'Thunderbird' (an absolute speed demon that can reach at top speeds of muthafuckin' 156 mph), and his enormous 2019 Ford F-150 'Big John' that he loves to drive to world meetings because he is a total stud muffin showoff.

Oh yeah, he defiantly modded 'Big John' horns with airblasters. So when he parks his car and he sees other nations come out of their vehicles, he pounds on that horn and scares the living shit out of them.

He totally does 2 am donuts in the Thunderbird the front of Walmart parking lots with his brother Canada to freak him out.

Other than seeing him work on his cars while listening to "Waking Up in Vegas by Katy Perry" on the radio, he's in his room sorting out his action figure and comic book collection.

Damn, what what a geek.

He has an eBay account where he buys, trades and auctions his collection as his interests constantly change.

If you think him being a geek, dork and a nerd is gonna save him from getting a basic ass Stanley cup, you're wrong.

He has a navy blue one that he takes to meetings and he would get dirty looks from the other nations.

"Goddamn it America, you do not need that much coffee."

"Fuck you, you scone sucking twink. It's not coffee, it's the Panera Super Charged Lemonade mixed with Redbull."

"I beg your fucking pardon..."

He gave Canada a red one for his birthday that he also takes with him to meetings.

"Canada, mon ami~. That better not be that merde American drinks that makes your heart explode."

"No, it's Tim Hortons iced coffee."

"Well.. that's better than what America drinks..."

#hetalia headcanons #hetalia axis powers #hetalia oc #hws #hetalia world stars #hetalia america #aph america

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chubbish · 2 years

Text

You didn't expect the weight gain.

Your partner is fat, and you love them just the way they are, but that doesn't mean you had any particular interest in gaining weight. You had always been reasonably slim, and had never really expected that to change.

Nobody had warned you about how easily your weight could go up when you shared your life with somebody fat.

It was mild at first- it started with you sharing their snacks between mealtimes. Just a few oookies, or crisps, or sweeties out of their huge value pack- and they were more than happy to offer. A little bit of weight around the middle wasn't noticeable, right? Besides, that was just relationship weight- everyone put on a few pounds in a new relationship, it was only natural. But soon a few snacks out of the bag became half the bag, became you buying your own. The weight was becoming more pronounced- your tummy bulged more over your jeans, and a noticeable muffin top. Your jawline was becoming softer. Your thighs were starting to become pillowy, and rub togther in a way you didn't remember them doing before. You didn't want to complain about it though. Your partner had never pointed it out, certainly never complained and your sex life was still great- maybe even better. Besides, the last thing you'd want would be to make your partner feel bad about their body by complaining that your own might have gotten a little pudgier.

So you sucked it up and put more effort into being active. You went cycling, did yoga, even went once or twice to an exercise class. You enjoyed the exercise, you really did. But you were really confused as to why you had seemingly only gained weight since starting. Your legs and ass were now laden with fat, and your belly protruded even from the sized-up tee-shirts you had bought yourself in the meantime. Your new exercise clothes really didn't conceal the way your body had started to jiggle and wobble, particularly your big protruding belly, and there were even little moobs that had started to swell out above it. This continued weight gain had nothing to do with your diet, of course. It had nothing at all to do with the fact that exercise made you hungry, that your snack consumption had only increased since you started your new active lifestyle, or the fact that your partner had started cooking bigger meals to support your growing appetite, and that the food they liked was always rich and deliciously creamy. They liked you to go well fed, and you were forever asking for seconds, or thirds, of the wonderful food they cooked. You still enjoyed the exercise, but you put it on the backburner, just for a while, since it patently wasn't helping you lose weight. And if you weren't losing weight, why shouldn't you spend your saturday afternoon on the couch instead, with a tub of ice cream to match theirs, as you watched your favourite shows together?

Weeks turned into months, and you had decided very strictly that gaining weight wasn't going to bother you. You had taken to wearing your partner's clothes even more often, because the smell of your partner on them made you feel so happy, and because unlike your own clothes they were still comfortably baggy. They always had been, and you had always sort of assumed that they always would be- though recently you felt like they might have felt like gotten a little tighter.

Today you were had gotten out of bed and pulled on your favourite tee-shirt of theirs, only to notice that it felt not only tighter but draughtier too. You turned to look at yourself in the mirror, and saw the truth of it. The tee shirt pinched at your flabby arms and clung tightly to your chest, doing nothing to conceal those flabby moobs of yours. But the thing that surprised you most was that- shock of shocks! Part of your belly was peeking out. You tried to pull it down, to cover yourself up, but it just shrank back up every time you did so, sinking back into the divot where your rolls of back fat met.

The realisation hit you quite slowly, as you turned a little to the side, moving swollen, fatty thighs and calves that seemed to bulge out at the ankles. You watched your chin- your double chin- jiggle as you did so. You had never quite taken in how fat your face had gotten, had never quite seen it somehow- but it was quite round, with big chubby cheeks. Your chin seemed to melt away into a far larger chin that surrounded the bottom of your face and merged seamlessly into your fat neck. You found yourself transfixed by it- could you really be this fat? Absent mindedly you squeezed and jiggled your sizeable tits, watching the way your body jiggled and rippled, and listened as your huge gut rumbled, moaning for more food- after all, you hadn't even had breakfast yet. The spell was broken, and you decided that you'd just steal another tee shirt and wear it down to the breakfast that your partner was already cooking for you. You rummaged through their drawer, pulling out other shirts, and as you looked at them, and tried them on, none of them were any larger- most of them fit even worse than the tee-shirt you had already been borrowing. A cascade of fat drooped out of the front of every one of them, and some of them felt far too tight on your neck and chest to even bother trying to pull them down over your gut. You put the first tee-shirt back on, made a last ditch attempt to pull it properly down over your protruding belly, and, not unexpectedly, failed.

There were no bigger clothes.

You were fatter than them now. You were *their* fat partner.

It was a strange, and emotional moment for you, but of all the emotions that rose up, the ones that lasted the longest were a little unexpected. Now you might be the one squashing them with your belly. You were the one whose XXXLs might have to go up another X. And when you were out together in public, those disapproving glances from concerned citizens, who you had always glared at... well, truth be told, those had been directed just as much at you for a while now. Because you were huge, you were morbidly, flabbily obese, and you got to be the fat partner now. You felt pride, and excitement, and perhaps even lust flowing through your body as you groped and jiggled and bounced all your rolls of fat. Until you heard your partner calling you to breakfast. You waddled into the kitchen, still half dressed, to see your partner grinning, pudgy face adorned with a slight smear of flour, holding a plate stacked high with huge, glorious pancakes. You leant in to give your partner a kiss, even as your belly rumbled again. It was as if it was giving you a friendly little hint. You'll have to eat up, fat boy, if you want to stay the bigger one in this relationship.

#chubbish fic #wg fiction #wg fic #weight gain #accidental weight gain #id say mutual gaining but its not quite #still tho ;) enjoy

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