#Get twinked
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theendorisit · 5 months ago
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Every time Jonny and Alex try and write a scary monster.
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myiliterallyhavenolifegoals · 7 months ago
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the fact that Edwin lived in the early 1900s is a fantastic source of comedic potential. he's just constantly saying things that he doesn't realise are completely batshit insane, and the others are just left utterly floored.
like they're all talking and Crystal mentions she's tried cocaine once on a wild night out, and Edwin, who used to get that shit medically prescribed at the drop of a hat is like ??? okay?? hope you felt better, it always used to help me when I had a cold too :) Charles why are you laughing?
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Suddenly, bell bottoms aren't so bad
Bonus sketch, because I had to vv
"Stop checking out my assistant, Stanley."
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1spooky2me · 11 months ago
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Viziepop broke into my house, shattered my kneecaps, and made me draw Huskerdust as humans.
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jakegain · 4 months ago
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College is getting me fat again.. 🐽
New vid showing off the belly on: patreon.com/jhbelly
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baszin · 6 months ago
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How far will you go?
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bellygettingfat · 8 months ago
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Before and after I let myself go :)
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ellenchain · 1 month ago
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my headcanon for the two is that they are now travelling through dimensions and are always connected - like they are spiritually together, not in an abusive way like before, but in a supportive, communicating way
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fattracklad1 · 2 days ago
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Hey its me, this is just my Back up account now, as Tumblr seems to be getting on my nerves with restrictions smh
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reverack · 8 months ago
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Doctor’s scale made it official… Guess I overshot my latest weight goal 😅 (150 vs. 305)
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joe-bidens-alt-account · 3 months ago
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cryobabiess · 1 month ago
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Pairing: Emperor Caracalla x concubine!reader
Summary: After a public tantrum at a senator's gathering, Geta sends Caracalla's most beloved concubine to comfort his mad brother. Tags: hurt/comfort, slightly NSFW, implied/mentioned sex, Caracalla has serious mommy issues, nipple play, breastfeeding :/ (sorry), short fic, Caracalla is obsessed with your big naturals I guess idk AN: I'm not sure if there's any Otessa Moshfegh enjoyers out there, but this lil mini fic is inspired by Lapvona. Caracalla's man-child vibe reminded me of Merek, so naturally I had to write the most strange and off-putting fic to satisfy my weird-girl impulses. Enjoy, freaks!
Hurt by his brother’s callous words, the divine emperor Caracalla had fled the senator’s banquet in a fit of rage. It only takes a single tense glance from Emperor Geta for you to receive his silent command to follow after his mad brother. It does not take long to find him.
Like always, he hides away under a golden table tucked in the far corner of the throne room. His sniveling echoes off the tall marble walls. You slowly approach his curled up form, as if not to startle a wild hare.
“Caracalla. You must come out now.” You call his name softly.
“I will not.” He croaks through his tears, turning his back towards you. With a sigh, you sink to your knees, extending your open arms towards him.
You wait for Caracalla to find his sense. After a few moments, He finally turns to you to reveal his face—pale, rosy, and wet.
“Has brother sent you to scold me? I am no child!” Spite coats his words. You smile at the absurdity. He could order your head on a pike if he so pleased, but prefers for you to indulge his brooding. A god-king with the whims of a spurned child.
“No, I do not seek to scold, little prince. Come now, so that I may hold you.”
And with that, the emperor crawls to you.
He settles into your arms and you cradle his torso, the luxurious fabric of his ornate robes pooling at your lap. His cheek rests atop your bosom like a newborn babe—he weeps like one too.
“It is unjust! Brother always has the last word, yet I am eldest!” Caracalla laments, his tears wet the bodice of your stola.
You use your free hand to smooth tendrils of copper hair away from his damp face. A tantrum of this magnitude was not uncommon for the young emperor, though you often wondered how a man could display such behaviors at the age of twenty and one. Caracalla was distinctly tender, despite his blood lust. His ego was delicate, easily wounded by Geta’s pragmatism and rigid sensibility.
“He wishes to be rid of me, I know it.” He sniffles, his hand reaching to fiddle with the pendant resting at the base of your neck. You smile softly despite growing weary of this routine.
“Don’t be without reason, mea dulcis. You are invaluable to Rome and all her subjects. Geta speaks without tact when he is cross. You must know this too, hmm?”
Caracalla thinks for a moment, brows knitting together in contemplation.
“He is unkind. It should have been him to suffer in the womb, not I.”
You can’t help but laugh at his juvenile description of his brother's malicious cruelty. Frustration flashes across Caracalla’s face as water threatens to brim his eyes again.
“Peace, my lamb. No more tears.” You coo, using a thumb to swipe away at the wetness—but it is too late. Your laughter invited a new wave of angry tears. He buries his face in your breasts, jeweled fingers dragging down the fabric of your stola. His mouth quickly finds your nipple. You hiss, resisting the urge to pull him away from your flesh.
It brings the emperor great comfort to suckle you. Geta had explained Caracalla’s affliction once before.
“Our own mother denied him her breast; she believed him to be cursed. Perhaps he held on to that trangression. He called for a wet nurse until the age of ten and two. My brother has always suffered from madness, you see.”
You had taken prior notice of this habit. After he fucks you like an animal in heat, he often drifts back to your tit, lazily sucking and nibbling until sleep takes him. You thought nothing of it until emperor Geta revealed it’s cause to you.
And though you had no milk to bear, tranquility came over the man as if he had been fed. Eyes closed and breath even, he plays with a tendril of your hair as he rolls your swollen nipple in his hot mouth—lost in bliss. It is odd, but you pity him. With his lips so flush against you and his expression finally at peace, one could forget the madness, the carnage, the rage.
Sometime later, Caracalla regains his composure, standing straight with his shoulders back, returning to a proud and stately posture. He crudely wipes the spit from his chin with the back of his hand.
“You will attend to me in my chambers tonight.” He commands before returning to the festivities.
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starthirst · 3 months ago
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Listen. I love Cherik but I still hate to see men FUMBLE THESE BADDIES 😭😭😭
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dontbuymeperfume · 11 months ago
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i’m not the only one who noticed this right
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nicotinaddict · 4 months ago
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jakegain · 12 days ago
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i’m feeling so fat omg
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