#and i gained weight and the world is getting hotter

[thebearhungers]

Noisy digestion: There's nothing better than hearing your food getting burbled into belly brew.

Skeletal remains visible: What can I say, I'm a sadistic guy.

Weight gain: It really depends how MUCH weight. I do like a pred being visibly fatter after the fact, but within reason. I don't want them to gain 100+ pounds overnight, and while it's variable due to height, I'd say around 350 Ibs is the upper end I like to see in preds.

Prey is sitting amongst remains: Somewhat arousing to think of it being that much more unpleasant for them in there. A chilling reminder of what's in store for them.

Goopy digestion: It's OKAY, but it's not as appealing to the sadist in me to think of them just literally melting into goop instead of becoming bones.

Acid digestion: It's my favorite fate to subject people to!

Pred is not used to digestion: Not 100% sure what is meant by this. I'd guess indigestion, but that's a separate category. I guess they're just a fledgling vore pred? A little awkward, maybe a little ticklish, but still enjoying it? That's pretty cool.

Prey can regenerate: I do find extremely limited appeal to the idea of a pred swallowing and digesting someone over and over against their will endlessly, but outside of that vore needs to mean the end of a life if I'm gonna be into it.

Prey is willing: I really prefer the cruelty of gurgling up somebody who desperately DOESN'T want it, but willing prey are still digestible enough.

Dejection: I won't make any assumptions about what this means, because I could imagine several scenarios. But whatever it is, it's too niche to warrant being on this list.

Pred keeping memento of their prey: It's fine I guess, but I prefer my prey flushed and forgotten forever.

Indigestion: It's not my preference, but every once in a while I will indulge in some bellyache vore. It's got a different sort of flavor to it. A nice little kick to spice things up when they're getting stale, keep the vore fresh. And as a friend once said to me, there is something hot about the juxtaposition between the mild "first-world problem" of a pred's bellyache next to the slow and horrible death happening inside them.

Prey begging: Begging for your life only makes it hotter to keep you in there~

Pred Not Vore Fetishist: Yeah, I dunno, there's just something so magical about this. As cruel and monstrous as I am, I don't think my callousness can compete with that of someone who's not even into vore but still chooses to digest someone alive. Whether for the fun of it, out of curiosity, on a dare, just because they were feeling peckish, whatever the reason; it takes an unmatched level of heartlessness to put someone through that kind of suffering when you're not even planning on getting off to it. Such pointless suffering.

[slavicafire]

Can we hear the empirical analysis Zmija. Of the 4 options

you sneaky little horny creature. you sneaky little thing. of-fucking-course you can! and with joy. please keep in mind this is entirely and absolutely subjective. random order.

blacksmith...what can I say: bicep, stamina, incredibly amazing smell. ability to focus for a surprising length of time on one important thing while keeping up tempo. persistent. reacts to failure with an honest readiness to try again right away and deep-seated certainty they can improve. knows the context and circumstance can matter as much as the underlying material reality of the situation. have I mentioned arms. also: fingers good at prying things apart, or testing things. not afraid of a particular sort of pain. and: fire. smoke. also can actually make cool shit which, let's be honest, we are all hopeless for. in my personal experience, will talk to you about various properties of various sorts of steel immediately post-coitus which will, inevitably, make you want to go again right away.

fight athlete. I am a simple animal and I find violence hot. you'll have some incredible bruises to marvel at while in a variety of incredible positions. bleeding and cuts might also be a thing. you can soothe a horrid loss or reward a vicious victory, and both will feel very good albeit in different ways. they might be very into the idea of thinking up some scenario where they can fight in your honour or for your safety which, if played right, is even more of your power fantasy than just theirs. not afraid of pain, and multiple types, which is always a great bonus. in my personal experience, might have very complex issues that can be worked out amazingly through united, honest effort in a well-developed kink scenario. and the v word again. often, those who dominate in the fighting ring like the scenario to be flipped in the bedroom and goodness what can be better than that.

weight athlete. well, let's not kid ourselves here: big. big and strong. very stubborn and persistent, and does not give up easily; when faced with adversity, has an incredible talent to grunt and groan in a way that will make you all hot and bothered. personal bias is that I love lifting weights and having had a weight lifting lover in the past gave me the best work out partner in existence - and there is something very, very special about an intense workout session followed by an even more intense sex. double happiness, double soreness, double gain. additionally, often on a bulk which means getting a lot of very good food, in amazing amounts, and then hopefully fucking after, too. and can lift you, and will be happy to lift you, and know how to respect your spine. super crucial.

park ranger. please be aware I am using this here in a very narrow meaning and largely incorrectly in relation to the whole poll - hence I didn't vote for it - because what I actually mean is a mountain rescue. GOPR/TOPR. this is the most potent combo of physical activity in an adversity context, paired with the genuine drive to do good - and, you guessed it, mountains. and I will be honest with you: had the pleasure only once, and it became a religious experience, and I can't focus enough to even write about it. I think the knowledge of trails, survival, first aid, and various more technical, very specific fields makes a person so exponentially hot it should be banned across the world for the good of horny bastards like me. only so we can break that law and make it even hotter and, most likely, perish.

[itsmealaiahh]

Still hot

TW: smut, p in v sex, cowgirl position, head (m rec), virgin! jake, slight profanity, dirty talk, praise kink, making out

Request: can we do a virgin!jake x reader? 💋

Rating: 18+, mdni

Word count: 1k

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are very much appreciated

The sun dips below the horizon, casting the world in shades of pink and orange, and the air is alive with the sound of crickets. You and Jake have been making out on his bed for what feels like hours now. His hands roam over your body, unbuttoning your shirt and slipping beneath your bra, teasing your nipples until they harden. You moan into the kiss, feeling the familiar ache between your legs grow more insistent with each passing second.

You break the kiss, breathless, and glance down to find that his jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped, tenting out over his growing erection. Without a moment's hesitation, you reach down and grip him through his boxers, feeling the heat and the length of him in your hand. He gasps, his hips bucking involuntarily, and you can tell he's as turned on as you are. You push him back onto the bed, straddling his waist, and with a wicked grin, you yank down his boxers, freeing him from their confines.

Jake's eyes go wide as he stares up at you, and for a moment you think he's going to freak out. But then he blurts out, "I'm a virgin." The words are out there now, hanging between you like a weight. You feel a surge of arousal at the admission, and it's like a switch flips in his brain. He looks at you with a mixture of fear and desire, anxious to see what you'll say.

You lean down, brushing your lips against his ear. "That's even hotter," you whisper, and then you take him into your mouth. His taste is salty and slightly sweet, and he lets out a moan that vibrates against your lips. You start slowly, sucking him deeper and swirling your tongue around him, relishing the feel of him in your mouth. Your hands slide down his chest, over his abs, and lower still, until you find his hardness pressing against your palm. You stroke him in time with your movements, feeling him grow even harder beneath your touch.

Jake's hips begin to move, meeting your rhythm as you suck him off. He digs his fingers into your hair, urging you on, and you can tell he's getting closer. You pick up the pace, wanting to make him lose control. Your hands fly to his shaft, rubbing it all over.

As you feel the first pulse of his orgasm, you slow down, taking him deep and letting him feel every last wave. He gasps, his body tense and shuddering underneath you. His cum fills your mouth, salty and bitter, but you swallow every drop, savoring the taste. When he's finally spent, you pull back, gazing up at him with a satisfied smile.

"Wow," he breathes. "I had no idea it could feel like that."

You smile, running your fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. "Well, I'm glad I could show you."

He looks at you with a newfound sense of appreciation and desire. "I want to feel you inside me," he whispers.

You nod, understanding. "Then let's do this." You reach down and guide his hand to your sex, showing him how wet you are. He gently slips a finger inside, exploring your tightness, and you arch your back, moaning at the sensation.

With a steadying breath, Jake rolls onto his side, positioning himself between your legs. He looks at you with nervous anticipation, his erection still hard and ready. You take his hand, guiding it lower, until he's touching the head of his cock to your entrance. He hesitates for a moment, unsure, before you push him gently, urging him inside.

There's a moment of resistance as he breaks through your barrier, but then he slides in deeper, filling you completely. You cry out, overwhelmed by the sensation of being so intimately connected to him. His hips begin to move, slowly at first, but gaining momentum as he finds a rhythm that feels good for both of you.

You wrap your legs around his waist, anchoring him to you as you ride his movements, meeting him stroke for stroke. The air is thick with the sound of their breathing, the crickets providing a hypnotic backdrop to the intimate sounds they make together. Jake's hands roam over your body, tracing circles around your nipples, digging into your hips as he thrusts deeper.

As the passion between you reaches a fever pitch, you feel your own orgasm building, threatening to overwhelm you. You arch your back, pressing your lips to Jake's neck as you come, his name escaping your lips in a shuddering moan. Your muscles clench around him, milking his orgasm from him, and he groans, spilling his release deep inside you.

His weight presses down on you, but it's a welcome feeling, a reminder of the connection you share. You both lie there, panting, your hearts racing, your bodies slick with sweat and each other's essence. He rolls to the side, taking you with him, and pulls you into his embrace. You feel the warmth of his skin, the strength of his arms as they hold you close.

"I had no idea it could be like this," he whispers, kissing your neck. "No idea."

You nestle into his touch, feeling a contentment wash over you. You've given him something he's never experienced before, and in return, he's given you a sense of closeness you've never known. The night air is cool against your bare skin, and you shiver slightly. Jake senses it and draws the blanket up over you, tucking it around your shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice still rough with emotion.

"I'm perfect," you say, and you mean it. You look up at him, feeling a strange mix of affection and desire. "I want to do this again."

He smiles down at you, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "I think that can be arranged."

And with that, he leans in to kiss you, and the world fades away, replaced by the simple, perfect connection between the two of you.

Taglist: @madzandmore @20doozers

[sporadicthingcollection]

Paint Job (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy indulges his two favorite hobbies: doing your makeup and driving you crazy. Pairing: Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: General. Word Count: ~1k. Warnings: Pregnancy. A/N: my birthday was yesterday so i wrote this for myself

Your belly button popped out. He had no idea until you stripped your clothes off for a nap and fell asleep cradled in that dumb pregnancy pillow you use instead of cuddling with him.

He squints at it. It looks funny. Round. Sticks out. Kinda like...

...hmm.

The intrusive thought hits him like a fish jumping out of the water and into a boat.

You'd look so cute and he'd get to show off his artistic talent. Not to mention that everyone would know whose baby is in your belly. Not that there's any doubt, of course, but he has to mark his territory somehow and he suspects that you wouldn't appreciate being peed on.

(The obvious answer of putting some jewelry on those naked ring fingers of yours has occurred to him many times, but that thought is somehow scarier than fatherhood. So he ignores it.)

Grabbing his bag of tricks from the vanity, he tiptoes to the bed. He sets himself down slowly, gently, carefully. The bed squeaks as he eases his weight onto it, but you don't stir.

He works quickly. First some white greasepaint, squeezed onto his wrist and dabbed onto your belly with a makeup sponge. Follow that with a bit of black paint, applied with a careful stroke of the brush. Then pigment sticks for the detail work and outlines...

The baby seems to enjoy it. It occasionally moves in response to his touch. Nothing herky jerky -- just little shifts and nudges. Makes his heart melt. He can't wait to meet the little rugrat.

And now the piece de résistance, a dab of red right on the mound of your navel.

Et voilà. Perfection.

He leans back to marvel at his artistry as he wipes the extra makeup from his hand. In another life, he'd have made a damn good painter. Hell, maybe he should invest in some acrylics and canvas. Start a money laundering scheme.

Buggy notices that your eyes are open. Two little windows into a warm, dark abyss. The same color as falling asleep in a cozy bed on a cold, dark night.

“Having fun?” you ask.

“Tons,” he says coolly. “How was the snooze?”

“Great, ‘til your kid started tap dancing on my bladder.” You lean back on your elbows as you stretch your legs out, splaying your toes out like Richie does after he wakes up from a nap. Your belly rests on your thighs now. Try as you might, you can't see over the top. “What were you doing?”

He hops off the bed and offers you his arm, easing you to your feet. He guides you to his vanity with a hand on your waist. Your gait has gained a wobble and, while he's never seen anything hotter, being on a constantly rocking ship makes him nervous.

Your eyes go wide when you see his Jolly Roger painted across your stomach, your belly button forming the nose. You twist this way and that, your smile growing with each shift.

He rests his head against yours. “So everyone knows just who put you up the pole,” he murmurs.

“As if there's any question with how handsy you are,” you snort. You turn that warm smile to him. “Love it, Bugs.”

He didn't think you'd be upset, not really, but hearing you happy eases his nerves greatly. “I decided to take an impressionist approach,” he says. “You can tell from the brush strokes and my liberal use of white.”

You were right, that night you first spent together: you laugh like a gaggle of News Coos. Clattery, loud, inelegant. It's his third favorite sound in the world. The second is that snort you make when you're trying not to laugh, and the first is... Well, his pursuit of that sound is what led to your current condition.

He pushes the gag a little further. “Made it during my Alabastan Period, where I was influenced by--” You push your lips against his. He keeps talking, just to annoy you. “--traditional geometric patterns of nomadic--”

You grab his cheeks and shove your tongue in his mouth. Once he's runs out of breath, you pull away with a big red splotch across your smile. “Shut up,” you say.

“Never.” He moves behind you. He pops his hands off to lace his fingers underneath your belly as he drapes his arms around your shoulders. "How's that?"

You sigh in relief as the weight is lifted off your organs, your spine, everything. "Fucking hell, thank you," you breathe.

He makes a mental note to thank the old ex-con who told him the trick. Surefire way to make your old lady love you forever, she'd said, grinning at her husband. How else you think I ended up with having six kids with this knucklehead?

The thought of six little humans running around fills him with dread... but at the same time, everyone loves a family act. Matching threads for everyone, him in his best and you all dolled up like a work of art. Suits for the boys and little tutus for the girls.

Six little faces looking up at him in adoration, six little creatures to do his bidding, six little people guaranteed to worship the ground he walks on...

You snap your fingers in front of him. "Hey. Clown."

That's enough to bring him back to earth. He hopes to every god that will listen that it's just one in there. "Just distracted by your beauty," he says.

You give him a dry look. "Liar."

"Alright, ya got me. I was thinking about your tits." Buggy rests his chin in the crook of your neck. “How much longer?”

You reach up to pat his cheek. “Couple months.”

He groans. “But I wanna meet Buggy Junior noooow-wuh,” he whines.

Your smile vanishes. “Over my dead body you name my kid that.”

“Why not? It's a great name. Buggy Balthazar Zebulon Xerxes Mixolydian Macadamia--” You pinch his lips shut with your fingers, but he keeps talking. “--Jeremiah Jubilee--”

You turn and shove your tongue in his mouth again. He shuts up for good this time.

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

[lavenderedhoney]

1 year (ish) on T!

Hard to say since I had to go off it for 1 or 2 months, but it's been about 1 year! I'm still not taking a full dose, but I moved up from 1/3rd to 1/2 about a month ago and it's been great. Some changes since then:

Skin had a brief but very angry tantrum 😭. I started using 10% benzoyl peroxide face wash last year to fight breakouts, esp folliculitis, and it still works great. I just have to use it basically every day now instead of a couple times a week (including sometimes on my scalp, which was VERY mad at me last week). Annoying but not the end of the world.

Despite doing very little exercise I've definitely gained muscle in my arms, which is pretty awesome lmao!

Baby mustache is becoming more visible! So are my sideburns. Chin is covered in long wispy blonde hairs - I don't think there's any new dark ones since my last update. I'm starting to consider shaving my chin and sideburns maybe once a week 🤔.

Unsurprisingly my sex drive went up again lmao. My dick is more sensitive and sometimes a lil itchy? I'm hoping that's just a sign it's growing again.

Body hair has continued to get darker and coarser, especially on my belly and inner thighs. It's pretty awesome! I love my cute lil happy trail so much. Shoutout also to my arm hair and my expanding bush, which are both doing great.

The whole "people on T run hotter than people on E" thing is so real and it's so annoying lmfao!! If it hits 65 degrees Farenheit and I'm not wearing shorts I sweat to death 😭. I barely ever need anything heavier than a light jacket when I go out or a light blanket when I go to sleep. Sometimes I accidentally freeze my poor sweetie by cranking the AC too cold. 😔

I gained some weight last year (probably from the T) and between that and fat redistribution I no longer have an easily definable waist. Kinda sad abt this, but it does have the plus side of making my body shape more androgynous, which is kinda fun. As far as I can tell the rest of my body shape is basically the same.

Overall I'm very happy!!

[t4tozier]

I kinda think pregnant Jace would be upset at losing his twink status, but Porter would be convinced he's never looked hotter

oh i just Know porter is feral for pregnant jace. he’s obsessed w his own body image so like he gets jace feeling insecure but he loves it. he loves coming up behind him, rubbing his hands over jace’s bump and holding his belly when it starts getting big enough. he loves the way jace’s sharp angles soften, his whole body rounding out. jace complains when porter says something about how he’s gained weight because he thinks it’s an insult but porter means it so genuinely and he Will take all the time in the world to prove it.

[forgot-how-catflap-works]

10 Lessons from a transfemme gym rat

I’m the only trans person at my local gym. I sometimes worry that I stick out like, well, the only trans person in a room full of cisfolk. I’m taller than most of the men and broader than all the women; my face often darkened by stubble because I have electrolysis later that week and can't shave; and I have to wear loose fitting shorts rather than tight leggings so that I don't accidently cock slap someone when I’m on the elliptical.

I don’t see any trans fitness content on my feeds either, presumably because the algorithm is as confused about my gender as my parents are. It sort of understands that I am a woman but occasionally forgets, and is utterly dumfounded by the idea that trans people might doing something other than porn and JK Rowling discourse.

Since transition, I can now imagine a future where before there was only a grey expanse. I realised if I wanted to live that future, I needed to start taking better care of myself. So with Lady Ballers still fresh in the cultural consciousness, I stepped foot into a space that felt not only unwelcome, but actively hostile to my presence. Nearly six months on, here’s an incomplete list of what I've learned so far.

1. None actually gives a shit 

What a fucking relief that was! I expected to be immediately clocked and then chased out the building by pitchfork wielding gigachads. But here’s the thing — a little seceret I try to remember while at the gym — literally no one cares or has any interest in me. People do not talk at the gym, they do not make eye contact, they do not smile. They lift weights in the corner or sweat on the treadmills. My presence as a trans person does not factor into their gains, or distract them from scrolling on their phone between sets. Even in my tiny ass local gym, I’m basically invisible. 

2. Take up space

I know it feels hostile out there for trans people at the moment, but for the time being our right to take up space is enshrined by UK law. Cis people take up space all the time. It would never occur to them that they might be unwelcome somewhere, and even if it did that wouldn’t stop them. If you've ever been to a Pride, you know exactly what I mean.

We have the same right to access these facilities as any of those cis dudes full-stacking the chest press. Anti-trans campaigners are trying to exclude us from public life; don't do the work for them by refusing to participate. They will have to physically remove me if they want that, but I’ll be so jacked they won’t be able to. Which brings me to my next point… 

3. Strength is power

If you’re transfeminine, physical strength is power. It is protection. Unless they hit the gym too, most people aren’t as strong as they think they are. Estrogen will prevent you from getting too girthy, but you’ll be surprised how quick you can build muscle with a regular routine. I’m stronger now than I’ve ever been, and I feel confident I could defend myself if necessary just by having that extra raw power on my side. 

I get that plenty of transfemmes want to lean away from physical strength for a number of valid, dysphoria-related reasons. But don’t let it be because society tells you women have to be weak, or that you’re not a real woman because you're strong. That’s some misogynist bullshit. You can be whatever you want. To that end… 

4. Fuck gender

Fuck it right into the bin. The world of physical fitness is incredibly gendered. It relentlessly reinforces the idea that men are supposed to be big and strong, and women are supposed to be thin with a juicy butt. Fuck that. I’m a non-binary transfemme. I want a juicy butt and to be jacked as hell. I want to be able to bodyslam a grown man and look good while doing it. Now more than three years into transition, I’ve left behind certain aspirations of unachievable femininity, but I’ve also never been hotter. I feel like myself in whole new ways. Confident, powerful, beautiful. I am the woman I always too afraid to be, and it fucking rules. 

5. My relationship to my body has changed

I spent the last 33 years disconnected from the sack of meat that contains my unwilling consciousness. Even as transition progressed, I did not want to be a part of my body. But as I exercise, feel my muscles working and my heart pumping, I am connected to it. I am a part of it. There is something beautiful about that. All my life I avoided exercise because I couldn’t stand my physical form. But now I recognise that my body is my home, and I should care for it like I care for the rest of my world. 

6. Exercise is actually good for you 

Every smug prick that tells you that exercise is good for your mental health and general well being was, unfortunately, correct. I want more than nothing else to rot in my own filth, smoking weed and eating doritos until I die. But that leaves me feeling like literal shit, and the improvement I’ve noticed in mood, energy levels, sleep quality and general daily vibe cannot be ignored. I resent this truth, yet here we are. 

Exercise has not “fixed” me or suddenly cured my lifelong depression. I’ve been more depressed in the last few months than I have since I started transition, but exercise was actually the one thing that kept me going. I almost had no choice on whether I went to the gym. It happened at times against my will, but it always improved my mood, even if I did just go right back to a RuneScape-induced fugue afterwards. 

7. Setting the vibe

For whatever reason, gyms love to play Radio 1. I can only assume this is because whoever is in charge of the music was hired by Satan to ruin my day with inane chat and the musical equivalent of liquid diarrhoea. Before you call me a boomer, I was born hating all things popular and despite my best efforts I really can’t find a way to feel any differently about it. 

So if you’re like me, which is to say very cool and refined, you need headphones to blast some raw punk for those weight sessions. I’m talking about Soft Play, Lambrini Girls, Be Your Own Pet, Amyl and the Sniffers. If you’re on the treadmill or elliptical you want an audiobook; something compelling, uncomplicated, and full of action. No mournful dyke lit. I’m sorry fans of Julia Armfield, but Our Wives Under the Sea isn’t going to cut it when you’re only 15 minutes into cardio and already want to die. For my money though, the best cardio option is to hop on a bike, get your Switch out and play Legend of Zelda. “Oh, but what if someone judges me for playing my Switch at the gym?” That person can eat shit. Also, they won't because as highlighted earlier, no one cares! 

8. Leisure centres are your friends

Leisure centres, unlike private gyms, are funded with your taxes. They are the public libraries of getting jacked. Make use of those spaces. They are usually cheaper than the alternative and yes, they might be a bit grottier but they’re still pretty good. Don’t be afraid of the staff, they are there to help you.

Make sure to get an induction too. It should be free and will help familiarise you with the space and how the machines work. Do not wing it unless you wanna show up, cause a scene by hurting yourself and then get taken out on a stretcher. Most leisure centres will also offer to put together a workout plan, and some of the fancier ones will give you a full fitness MOT where you can learn about your bone density and shit. Not my gym, because it’s small and crap. But you probably have better facilities on your doorstep than I do within 20 miles. 

9. The changing room question

You have the legal right to use the changing rooms that align with gender identity. Labour even recently dropped plans to rewrite the equality act, which would have removed that right.  So for now, it's yours — use it. That said, if you’re really nervous about the changing rooms, contact the gym beforehand and ask what their facilities are like. Do they have changing booths? Or gender neutral spaces? 

I rarely if ever change at the gym. I either get ready at home, or even change in my car sometimes like the lil gremlin I am. If that’s not an option, put on your gym clothes under your outfit for the day, and wear something simple like a jumpsuit so you can get changed with minmal fuss. If you absolutely need to change at the gym and aren’t comfortable or don’t feel safe using the changing rooms, use a disabled toilet. That might be controversial, but your safety and comfort matters. If people are going to give you shit, or if you don’t have access to the facilities you need to feel safe, claim space where you can. As long as you are respectful of others who need that space too. 

10. Don’t get in your own way

This is where I will do the most projecting, but as someone who is both trans and autistic, I really thought going to the gym would be too fraught an experience for me to handle. I worried that I was going to get clocked, or ridiculed or harassed or merely perceived against my will. 

But let me remind you: No one else cares. You are allowed to be there. You are entitled to these spaces. If someone gives you shit, whether that staff or users, report them to management. File a formal complaint. Make it clear what actions they take to make it right. Advocate for yourself. If that’s too overwhelming, ask a friend to help. Hell, drop me a line and I’ll put those bitches in their place for you. 

Yes, it’s fucking exhausting having to fight for every inch of space, every moment of safety, but fuck the rest of the world. If they can’t handle our presence, that’s their problem. Soon you’ll be jacked as hell and able to throw them down a well if they give you any trouble. 

[julsbillionthaccount]

I honestly think a lot of people want to say college has made them better all around. Like people say they got hotter or more confident. But I saw a tiktok that said if you don't feel like that or your first semester has been shitty, you should tell people, especially your friends, when they ask because the truth is a lot of people feel the same way maybe if its even just one aspect of their college life. Truth is, I think I "peaked" in my summer before college. I had a bf, friends, I was skinny, and had a good life all around. Now that I'm in college, I think I've gained weight and I'm more self conscious now that I broke up with my ex. I feel like when I go out with my college friends I get less male attention, and we all know damn well we shouldn't base our self-worth on how men see us or how much they want us, but lets be fr we all view ourselves in a certain way when we don't have at least one guy feinding after us. But I think what I'm coming to learn is that we're all gonna feel like shit about ourselves and we just gotta go through. I mean, when I look at my mom, she is honest about how she views her flaws but that doesn't make her value herself less. Because in a perfect world we'd all love to say that we've escaped the male gaze but none of have or ever will. So I'm really just gonna try to accept that I'm gonna feel like shit about myself no matter if I'm in my first semester of college, or if I'm out of college.

[forthesakeofthesoul]

the summer i gained consciousness

life became a double-edged sword when it happened. i missed the innocence of the before, and abhorred the weight and proclivity of the after. the simplistic moment by moment mindset of childhood made life feel infinite, but then again, enlightenment made me think. it made me ponder things i'd never even given the chance to lend my mind to. summer gave me time. more of it or less is up to you, i suppose. nothing can compare to the infantile eon. the juvenile century of summer. but nothing can compare to the adolescent spiral either. the brain bending mind fucks you take yourself on. like, is time even real? maybe summer really was a century long. do we even exist rn?

time is unique to everyone so make the most of it. or the least. your choice. it's as short or as long as you want.

summer felt stifling this year. it keeps getting hotter and hotter. i guess that's climate change. global warming.

my mind's on fire. i think i felt it smoking. maybe it's because summer leaves the lights on at night -- the sun is still up by nine o'clock -- but i could never sleep very well. i know why. my thoughts were consumed. sometimes it felt like i was going crazy. i'm not convinced that i wasn't. but i think that's when you gotta start writing about it.

i learned to roll with the punches more. i was too caught up in my mind to care much about what was going on around me anyways. i found god in my thoughts and he wasn't a man. he wasn't anything. he was me. or at least a higher self. someone who understood me better than anyone else i know. and she knew i was kind and sensitive and all the things that i could not change. she knew about them and she accepted me. where else do you find that kind of love? it's all within yourself.

but i was far from the point of loving myself. i knew myself too well. i still do. i'm disillusioned with the girl i got to know. i've memorized my rough edges and sour spots off by heart. i know who i am! i know who i am. is there still more to discover? i want to be a mystery to even myself. because i know her too well.

but how strange is it that we always have a desire for more. and when we're given more we are still unsatisfied. there has to be more. that's all we know. all we know is that which we don't know. i think we thrive on that uncertainty. it sparks that creative passion, and without the unknown, that spark will die.

this summer i found myself pondering a world without the thinkers. at first it sounded scary, but then i realized there's already been one. we're living on it.

prehistoric earth, when the world was run on instinct. opinion had no purpose here. it hadn't even been invented yet. life existed on the basis of gut instinct alone. and there was balance! thoughts were mere urges, self-preservational desires. they were desires that kept creatures alive.

it makes me wonder about the beauty in living life unaware. a callback to that primordial sense of presentness we all experience as children. it made me wonder if we'll ever go back there. but you can never go back there. we can return to a state of balance but it won't be the same. we wouldn't be the same.

prehistoric earth is terrifyingly beautiful, and there's a mysticism in it that holds fast the attention of all those who roam the earth in the present... or perhaps in this context it's the future? we are living in a different time at any rate. we are all allured by the past, fixated on it, obsessively compulsively wishing to go back to it, to rewrite it, to reach in and save someone from it, like grabbing a drowning puppy.

we are slaves to the past, and we're indebted to the future. time is our greatest blessing, and also our heaviest curse. but can we ourseles decide to make it exclusive to one? can we give thanks to the blessing instead of fall victim to the curse? i think that's an individual journey thing. life -- time, is what you make of it. it's all in how you live it.

summer made me stop and smell the roses. it made me panic and realize how fast time flies. it burned me and kissed me and loved me and smoked me out. it made me find the heart of what truly matters. it made me grieve parts of myself i never knew i lost. it made me discover parts of my soul that had been hidden for two decades. it made me fall in love and cry and scream hatred off a cliff only to have compassion thrown back at me. it cleansed my feelings and left me alone to reflect. summer nurtured me and it stripped me of my pride. i have been humbled. i have been loved. i have been reborn. summer washed away the old me. it burned off all the dead skin.

sept. 9. 2024

[shroud-of-empire]

I forgot to even mention this in my review, but another funny thing about So Speaks the Heart is how it repeatedly insists that Leandra is better/smarter/more attractive than Theodora. E.g. Leandra is a virgin and Theodora is not, Leandra knows things that Theodora can’t understand, Theodora is attractive but Leandra is beautiful… you get what I mean. The narrative specifies at one point that Theodora has gained weight, while Leandra is still youthful and slim. Alexander even sleeps with Theodora just so he can compare her to Leandra later (and he obviously concludes that Leandra is better). I guess it’s just part of the fantasy—Leandra is prettier than the most famous courtesan in the world, because she’s written for escapism, not accuracy—but a lot of books do this. Generally, if a book is set in the sixth-century Byzantine Empire and the main character is anyone other than Theodora, the narrative will repeatedly emphasize that Theodora isn’t that attractive/powerful/intelligent. If the protagonist is a woman, the author will establish early on that the protagonist is the more beautiful of the two; if the protagonist is a man, the author will establish that he’s smarter and his wife is prettier. And you see this everywhere in Byzantine speculative fiction.

Like, okay, The John the Eunuch books don’t really focus on Justinian and Theodora anyway, but every time Theodora does show up, the narrator has to comment on how unattractive she is (especially compared to John’s love interest). In the earlier books, she’s described as mediocre-looking and generally underwhelming, and in the later books, she’s described as having aged poorly (again, the narrator comments on her weight). A Flame in Byzantium describes her as an aging matron with a receding chin, wearing gaudy, tasteless outfits to disguise her fading looks. Every Belisarius book makes a point of mentioning that Antonina is more desirable than Theodora, either because Theodora is sluttier, less attractive, or somehow “broken” (a lot of books give her exaggerated trauma or mental illnesses, so she can be dismissed as a crazy shrew that no normal man would ever want). And it’s not like I’m personally invested in defending Theodora’s looks—I don’t really care if some vampire novel describes her as less attractive than the idealized protagonist—but I do think it’s a weird pattern. I mean, we know what Theodora looked like. We know how her contemporaries viewed her. We know that she had a successful career as an actress and a courtesan, and that she married the heir to the Roman Empire. And yet so many books present her as an overrated, overweight, middle-aged has-been with bad taste in jewelry and tacky barbarian clothes.

I don’t know. I’m probably overanalyzing this, but I think it speaks to a number of different things. A lot of it is clearly rooted in sexism, but it’s like a fusion of a hundred different sexist tropes. You have the “evil queen” trope, where a powerful woman is depicted as an old hag envious of other girls’ youth and beauty—in Theodora books, the old hag is Euphemia, and in other books, the old hag is Theodora. And some authors have a tendency to portray adult women as uniformly petty and cliquey regardless, so then you get these weird stories where empresses compete over who’s prettiest like they’re sixteen-year-old pageant queens. (Granted, you see that more in older books, but it does pop up in more recent stories.) But that doesn’t entirely account for the “my wife is way hotter than that crazy bitch, Theodora” stories, which almost feel more sinister to me. That specific sentiment feels so rooted in such a complex web of sexist stereotypes—linking women’s worth to their looks, linking men’s worth to their assets (and presenting a pretty, young wife as an asset who increases her husband’s value as a man), depicting any women who aren’t stock “cool girl” characters as “crazy bitches,” etc. A lot of writers clearly do this to make Belisarius seem cooler and more enviable—they can’t give Justinian a normal, loving marriage, because then Justinian would have something that Belisarius doesn’t, so they have to make Theodora ugly or crazy so Belisarius still seems like he “won.” It’s more subtle with the other male-character-centric stories, but I think that motivation is present at least some of the time.

Anyway, this rant kind of got away from me, and again, I’m probably thinking too hard about this (most of these speculative fiction books aren’t exactly great literature, anyway, for reasons independent of Theodora). But I still think the tendency to compare Theodora unfavorably to other, more prominent female characters, often in ways that don’t make a lot of sense (like describing Theodora as overweight, unattractive, or somehow “broken” or “crazy”) is a phenomenon worth remarking on.

[obsidiancreates]

And I'm only getting Hotter as I continue to gain weight, I'mma break 145 here soon and the world won't be ready

Sometimes I wear nothing but my work clothes and ratty pajamas for over a week straight and I don't forget I'm sexy, exactly, just forget in what way I am, and then I get to wear something fun and cute that I like again and go "Oooooh right xey serve cunt"

[thickest-slimiest-malware]

GUYSSSS i need to live in a little truck please its importamt for my mental health. i dont a want to see my family

[watchmegetobsessed]

SNACKS AND SEX

A/N: a little something, because i thought i would be done with the single dadrry fic by now... but im not so i just wrote this quickly bc i felt bad hahahah

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

WARNING: a bit of body issues

SUMMARY: You're three months pregnant, but the world doesn't know. Seeing some pictures of yourself online really get to you.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Social media has been a weird hole in your life ever since you started dating Harry. You weren’t an obsessive user before, but you spent your fair share of time scrolling on Twitter and Instagram, checking out funny posts.

But then they were about you.

Five years into dating Harry, one year of that spent as husband and wife, you still can’t stop yourself from wandering online and hurting yourself by seeing something mean about a photo or a nasty gossip. You promised yourself a million times before that you wouldn’t even check what complete strangers have to say about you, but it’s hard to keep away from the internet.

It’s a random Thursday evening when you break your promise again and it brings you to tears. Harry is out to get your Sour Patch Kids, because that was your pregnancy craving of the day and you tried to ignore it, but then ended up asking Harry to run to the store and get them for you without a word or complain. He’s been your hero not just since you’ve found out you’re pregnant three months ago, but probably since you met him.

So while you’re waiting for him, you’re munching on some chips, scrolling on Twitter aimlessly.

And then you find a thread about yourself.

Two days ago you went for a walk around the neighborhood, the weather was nice, you felt like you needed to get out of the house so you and Harry walked to your favorite bakery, got some donuts and took a stroll. Paparazzi keep away from the neighborhood where you live, Harry has had a long but successful fight with them in the past so now they keep their distance, so you weren’t worried about getting papped. But you can’t have normal people away every time you’re out on the streets. He has fans everywhere and love taking pictures of him doing literally anything, whether it’s just crossing the street, being on a run or walking around with her pregnant wife eating donuts.

Well, people don’t know you’re pregnant and hopefully they won’t find out for months.

You kind of saw a few girls get worked up when they spotted the two of you, but you were hoping they would be respectful and not take pictures. You were wrong. And now you’re met with a series of photos of you, your face stuffed with donuts like you never ate any before. They caught you in a bad moment, for sure. You haven’t washed your hair in days, you were wearing baggy clothes because one, they hide your growing belly amazingly and two, those are what you feel the most comfortable in. Your body is going through some major changes, comfort is your number one priority these days.

But now you’re watching people tear you apart for looking so slobby and practically just the shadow of yourself compared to what you used to look like five years ago.

She definitely shouldn’t be eating donuts, lol.

Wow, she put on so much weight!

Harry is just getting hotter, while she is turning into… that.

She is twice the size like she was at the Grammy’s omg!

You just can’t stop reading the nasty messages, they seem to be endless, about your look, your clothes and mostly about the size of your body. You immediately stop eating the chips and toss the pack away as you keep scrolling.

Tears start dwelling in your eyes, feeling like all these comments are being thrown at you relentlessly. There’s no doubt you’ve gained weight, pregnancy has been crazy for you, you’ve been constantly hungry, always eating something because whenever you tried to keep yourself out of the kitchen, your body definitely started rioting against you until you gave it what you wanted. So you’ve been putting on extra weight these past months, but you didn’t think much of it until now.

“Fuck,” you mumble, tears rolling down your cheeks as you lock the phone and toss it to the side, staring ahead of you, the comments playing in your mind on repeat.

It gets you so worked up that you don’t even notice when Harry returns.

“Love? I got everything you’ve been craving!” he sings as he walks down the hallway, smiling to himself thinking about all the treats in his tote bag.

You jump at his voice and try to hide your state, but a moment later he walks in and sees you sitting at the dining table, crying.

“Hey, what happened?” he asks, dropping the bag and rushing over to you, kneeling in front of you. “What happened? Talk to me, baby!”

“Nothing,” you breathe out shakily, but even the blind could see that you’re crying. “But… I don’t want the snacks anymore.”

“What? You’ve been craving them all day, I got all your favorites!”

“I don’t…” you shake your head and even though you’re fighting hard to stop crying, it just gets worse.

“Y/N, don’t tell me nothing happened, something clearly upset you! Please, I want to help!” he begs, feeling helpless seeing you like this.

Instead of answering, you just grab your phone, unlock it and hand it over to him and wait as he reads over some of the mean tweets.

“Baby…” he exhales, putting the phone to the side as he pulls out the chair next to yours and sits beside you, his hands never letting go of yours in your lap. “These idiots don’t matter, they have no idea that you’re pregnant!”

“I’m pregnant, yeah, but I also gained a lot of weight and I’m only entering the second trimester! I look horrible!”

“No, you don’t, you look amazing!”

“Don’t bullshit me, I look like shit on those pictures and I have a feeling I look the same now as well!” you snap at him. Your hormones have been all over the place so you’ve been overreacting a lot lately, but you just can’t help it.

“But that’s not what I see. I see my beautiful wife enjoying some great donuts she deserved because she is growing our baby in her belly. Did you put on some weight? Yes, but that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I loved you before pregnancy, I love you now and I will love you forever.”

“How do you not think I look hideous?” you moan, still not convinced.

“Because I’m in love with you and all I care about is that you’re nourished, loved and cared for so you can care for our baby in there,” he says, placing a hand to your growing belly. “People will always have something to say about us, that doesn’t mean it’s true. I was there with you on our walk, I saw you eat those donuts and wanna know what I thought?”

“What?” you ask in a whisper.

“I was so happy that I saw you eat them with those pleased hums, I loved knowing that you have what you want and need. That’s all that mattered to me.”

Harry can tell you’re still not entirely on the same page as him and he is determined to get your mind to the right place.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Y/N. And you’re going through some extreme changes so we can grow our family. Be nice to your body, because it’s gifting us with a baby. I promise you that even on your worst day, when you feel like you don’t want anyone to look at you, I would still think the same thing about you.”

“Are you sure?” you ask as he wipes your tears off of your cheeks.

“I can’t be more sure, I promise. Now why don’t we get comfortable on the couch, I’ll rub your feet and we can eat the snacks I got and then maybe have sex too,” he adds cheekily and it finally makes you laugh.

“Harry!”

“What?” he grins. “I told you, you’re beautiful. Of course I want to have sex with my amazing wife!”

“You don’t mind the weight I’ve put on?”

“No,” he answers confidently. “I love all of you, I love this wonderful body of yours that’s cooking my baby in there,” he smirks and leaning down he kisses your stomach, making you laugh. Then he wraps you in his arms and pulls you into his embrace. “We good?” he hums.

“Yeah,” you nod, holding onto him tight.

“So, snacks?”

“Yes.”

“And sex?” he adds, his hands wondering down to your butt, giving it a nice squeeze.

“Mm… Maybe. After snacks,” you say, making him laugh this time.

“Deal!”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[isdalinarhot]

Confession (or maybe not confession but Fun Fact but I kept it hidden for many years) I have for a very long time maintained that for a period of time during the washed up dilf era Dalinar binge ate as a way of dealing with grief and I have absolutely no canon proof of this and it’s very unlikely and the only reason this headcanon exists is that’s part of how I deal w/ depression is by eating too much and I wanted to feel connected to Dalinar and how he did things. And it made things really messy because like. I was like in my head like is this fatphobic somehow? To draw Dalinar gaining a significant amount of weight during the washed up dilf era? Because like I feel like that plays into some unsavory tropes. But it’s true to my real life experiences like I started eating a lot because I was depressed and got fat off it and I’m okay with that I think it makes me hotter frankly. But like idk!!!!!! And I guess it gets a little more complicated when I’m like fat dudes = hot and am I sexualizing Dalinar in poor taste? Just because I as a person am okay with my fatness (and to a lesser degree in very specific circumstances my alcoholism) being used for degradation or D/S worship purposes as me a human having sex does not mean that it’s a good idea to produce erotic content for Dalinar centering around these themes and it might be like, putting evil content into the world for me to write fic in which Sadeas is degrading Dalinar being like ohhhh you fat fuck you’re drunk all the time but you take my cock so well 😈 like that could just be in poor taste! So it’s very hard for me to make content that revolves around this theme. Juggling kink, life experiences/coping, and what makes sense in canon is hard sometimes. Idk is this coherent? I am drunk right now disclaimer so idk if what im saying really makes sense

[kaeyas-beloved]

Be You {Leviathan x Reader}

Leviathan x Reader (They/Them) || Obey Me!

Warning(s): None (Well, actually I make Levi bully Mammon for less than a paragraph)

Note: This was a request I received from someone on Wattpad!

-------------------

Finally, Leviathan’s done it. It’s been a long three days, hours upon hours having been poured into this playthrough. 

“Woop woop! Aren’t I the best!” he praised himself, smiling wide. He’s skipped meals, pushed assignments to a later date and avoided any outside interactions to finish this game. His sight may be blurry and his limbs numb but if those were the sacrifices he had to make to go full completionist then it was all worth it. Now, time to celebrate a well deserved win.

“I think this calls for some of Ruri-chan’s celebratory season 3 limited edition candy and-!”

A chorus of knocks on his door immediately snuffed out his joy. Levi scowled, turning to glare at his door from his chair, it’s gotta be Mammon. The third born is absolutely positive that it’s his scummy older brother - it always is - back yet again to mooch more money off him for a trip to the casino. The usual slander he and his brothers would throw at the second born was on the tip of his tongue, ready to fire at will. 

“Hey Levi? You there? It’s me....”

A voice that definitely doesn’t belong to the second born piping up and Levi, halfway through spouting the first syllable, shuts up all together. That’s his normie. A weight presses on his heart: he was just about to yell and insult his Henry… 

Clearing his throat in hopes of gaining some kind of composure (all previous anger having diminished) the usual “What’s the password?” came out in a stutter. The demon was only acutely aware of his heart beat. How it skipped periodically. How it raced like he himself just ran a marathon. Levi waits a moment for the human to finish reciting the TSL excerpt. His hands begin to shake, his palms exuding profuse amounts of sweat. Gah! Why was he so nervous? Yeah, he’s aware that he’s just some gross shut-in otaku but he shouldn’t be this anxious! It’s not like this is the first time the exchange student has hung out in his room... alone... with him…

“Yo Levi?”

“Yes MC?”

“You think you could open the door now? Please?” Snapped back to reality, Levi hastily opened the door, finding himself regretting it soon after.

“I, uh, MC? What do you…?” his voice trailed off, orange gradient eyes locked on their garments. Immediately he sputtered, taking a step back. A bright scarlet coated his pale cheeks. Levi tried to hide it with his hand, though it was proven useless. The sea demon's at a toss up; should he screech? Slam the door shut? Combust all together!? At the rate he’s going, number three is looking pretty probable.

On the other end of this exchange, the human stood almost timidly out in the hall, fingers fiddling with one another while their eyes darted anywhere but at the man in front of them. The words of the fifth born rang in their ears:

“You absolutely have to wear this dear! My brother would surely fall head over heels for you, even more so than he already is!”

Oh whyyyyy did they trust him? Cause he had knowledge in fashion and love? Yeah, that was it. Still, if this turns south Asmo is going to get a lecture worse than any Lucifer could ever give… Damn, they really should’ve never let the lust demon shoo them into his private bathroom and make them change into this girly outfit. 

And it hit them all at once: Levi doesn’t like it, what they’re wearing. What if he never talks to them after this? Maybe if they leave now then there will still be a chance they can forget about this.

Time went on slowly, like people who walk through mud are, and MC just about tuck tail and ran, what they had planned and gained courage for be damned. 

Levi had other plans though. 

Only now registering that the two were standing out in the open for all to see, in a blind and desperate attempt to save himself and the human from embarrassment, the third born latched onto their wrist, yanking them into the safety of his room. Unfortunately, demon strength is a funny thing and Levi had handled them with more force than he meant to, the human crashing into his chest - hard. 

Perhaps it was instinct -- a need to protect the fragile being within his grasp -- but the demon's arm found purchase around their form, pulling them almost impossibly closer as they tipped. The pair, balance long gone, toppled over, landing with a thud.

Somehow, just like in all the romance anime he’s watched, Levi found himself hovering over them, arms propped on either side of their head. Their noses brushed, both staring frozen into each other's eyes. It wasn’t everyday that either of them were this close to one another, the exception being when the duo falls asleep playing video games. God, with this kind of proximity he was sure that the normie could hear how fast his meek heart was pounding. If this went on any longer he might actually die.

“Levi?” They whispered, their voice so quiet that he almost missed the call of his name. He however did catch their whisper and tensed up before coming back to the here and now, catching sight of the ‘what’ that led to their current position. Standing, Levi’s face burned hotter than ever before.

‘It was all because of them,’ he thought, turning away turning away with tense shoulders as he still tries to mask the red that licked all the way up to his ears. ‘It’s always their fault when I start to feel like I do now!’

“S-stupid n-normie! Why are you even wearing that?” he asked, chancing a glance over his shoulder. Levi did have to admit… they looked kinda cute in those clothes… and it looked like something Ruri-chan would wear too… 

Gah! No no no focus Levi!

The ‘normie’ didn’t answer right away, instead raising to their feet and opting to grab a bag from beside the door. That wasn’t there before. 

“Asmo…” they sighed, turning back to face the demon, nervousness swirling within them. Now or never, “Asmo said you’d like it if I wore something like this” So this is Asmo’s doing? Damn him… “Anyway, here, take it.”

“Wha-?” A shimmering gift bag the same colour of the water Henry his goldfish swam in was thrust into his hands, whatever he was about to say dying in his throat. 

A present? For him? Oh why must a no good otaku like him have to go through such an intimate endeavor???? He just can’t take it! 

Then again, this was like that one scene from season 2 ep. 22 of this anime he binged: I Forget Important Dates all the time which causes me to get into really awkward situations. This time I forgot about my Birthday and my Crush handed me a bag before confessing their love for me!

So-! Spurred on by fictional characters and MC’s urging “go on, open it”, Levi tore the tape, presented with his spontaneous gift: a popular multiplayer game from the human world; one near impossible to get in Devildom.

“WHAOOO!” MC couldn’t help but think how much he’s acting like a kid on Christmas, the notion cute in their opinion. The human stood still for a couple minutes, allowing their friend to rant and gush over the game (and how cool they were for even acquiring it).

“But…” the purple haired demon calmed down, “why did you suddenly give me this?” What? Did he not know what today was?

“It’s… it is your birthday isn’t it!?” Don’t tell them Asmo lied to them about Levi’s birthday!

Levi pulled out his phone, his eyes widening to the size of saucers, “No, it is my birthday,” he assured. With all the gaming he was doing he must've failed to noticed, which is strange considering the last time his special day drew near he practically counted down the days. 

“MC.” He got their attention, looking them right in the eye, his words and actions portraying a sureness and sincerity, “Thank you and…” As quick as lightning strikes the ground, the human had themselves pulled flush against Levi once more, his head resting on their shoulder and nose buried in the crook of their neck. His hair, so soft and fluffy, left a ticklish sensation on their skin.

“And about what you said before. With Asmo. I do like what you’re wearing but…” he tightens his hold, “I like you just the way you are. I know you don’t usually dress like this and I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable, like how you make me. If that means dressing tomboy-ish then so be it. I want you to be you: the human only you can be: my Henry.” 

“I’m glad you feel that way…” They smiled, arms wrapping around his torso. They hope their gratitude is able to shine through in the hug, “Now, ya wanna play your new game?”

“Yes!” He smiled, pulling back and raising his hand. They return the grin, suppressing a chuckle seeing as the demon reminded them of the YES demoji. “Oh, but um! Would you like to change first? It’s not that I don’t like seeing you dressed like that or anything but like I said I want you to be comfortable but also I don’t think my heart can take it anymore… wait that’s not what I meant!” That made them chuckle though.

“Do I have to?” They teased, enjoying the reaction they got out of the third born. Levi gulped, ducking his head while whispering a small no. “Then maybe I’ll stay like this a little longer. It is your birthday after all.” Tugging the envy demon towards their usual gaming spot they let Levi set up the game before the two plopped down in their spots.

“Oh and Levi?” He hummed, tilting his head, the light of the screen illuminating the side of his face. They hugged him once more, “Happy Birthday”

-------------------

[Masterlist]

Thank you for reading!

[buckyownsmylife]

de l’amour - tom holland smut

the one where your parents tried to keep you two away, but your biker boyfriend always gets his way (specially when it comes to you)

Warnings: rough sex, like to the point of almost dubcon, pregnancy, oral (f), masturbation (f), doggy style, overstimulation, dirty talk

A/N: requested by @itstaskeen, this is part ii to je veux.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Telling my parents that I was pregnant and that Tom was the father went as great as I thought it would go, meaning that it wasn’t great at all.

To make matters worse, they had tried to ground me and when I reminded them that I was an adult, they opted to simply lock me in my room and steal my fucking cellphone. So that meant that it had been a full week since I had last seen my boyfriend or even heard from him at all.

So when they announced that they head to leave the house for the night to attend one of those fancy dinners they often went to, I thought that would be my way out. I could escape through one of the windows, now that I could leave my room and roam the hallways as “freely” as someone can be when they’re kept inside a house against their will. But of course, they’d thought about everything. And inside my room I was stuck again.

I was huffing for what felt like the millionth time that night when I heard it for the first time. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, the sound of something hitting my window’s glass was gone before I could even properly focus on it. But then it struck again, and I was immediately sitting up on the mattress before I leaped out of it, frantically trying to get the damn thing open.

“Tom!” I exclaimed when I saw him, enthusiastically waving at me from my back garden. He looked so fucking hot, especially now that I’d gone so long without seeing him. With that leather jacket and his slicked-back hair, I just needed him desperately.

“Hey, sugar! Could you step back for a bit, please?” I was confused, but then I finally took notice of the ladder he had placed by my house’s wall, and when I did as he said, he quickly adjusted it so he could climb up and meet me in my room.

“Huh! So this is your bedroom, huh?” I didn’t know if I wanted to shove him for making fun of the pink decorations or climb him like a tree, so I settled for pulling him down to meet my lips.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

Tom chuckled as he struggled not to lose his balance before he managed to hold me still by my hips. “Fuck, baby girl. You really did miss me, huh?” All I could do was huff as I rolled my eyes, but accepted his control over my movements as he pushed me to fall back on my childhood bed.

“You have absolutely no idea.” But he was already distracted, his eyes hypnotized by the curve of my belly. Softly, he grazed it with his knuckles, before simply holding it under his palms.

“You’ve started to show.” It was just a fact, but the sparkle in his eyes let me know that he was cherishing every single second of this moment, trying to memorize what I looked like after spending so long without seeing me. Still, I had to remind him.

“It’s only been a week!”

“I know, but you had to start showing one moment or another, and just my luck, it had to be right when I couldn’t see you.” I knew he had a point there, but I couldn’t yet notice all that difference. I guess, since I saw myself in the mirror every single day, it simply wasn’t obvious to me yet.

“I mean, I wouldn’t have told them if I could still hide it. Mum started asking about my sudden weight gain. It was only a matter of time until they figured it out, especially after they saw me hanging out with you in the city.” He hummed to show that he was still paying attention to what I was saying, but his eyes and hands still never left my belly.

“Well, how do I look?”

“Hm?”

“You’re obviously obsessed with what little changes my body has gone through, so tell me what you think!” Tom inhaled deeply, finally raising his eyes to meet mine after running it across my body, and grinned.

“I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman, princess. I’m the luckiest guy in the world. I feel like you’re only gonna get even hotter as you start to grow.” The amount of desire I saw in his eyes only left me more overwhelmed. God, I loved him. And it had been way too long since I last felt his cock spearing me open.

“Fuck, daddy, I need you,” I moaned, changing our positions so I could be on top before stealing a breathtaking kiss from him. In seconds, my dress was on the floor, as were his jacket and shirt, and his hands were once again rubbing my barely-there belly.

“Fuck, I really want to cum all over your belly.” The comment made me laugh, and I just had to tease my incredibly horny boyfriend.

“Kinky much?” It only served to make him determined to have me screaming under him, and that was exactly my plan.

“You’re making fun of me, sugar? Perhaps I need to remind you of your place, my little cumdumpster.” The filthy nickname had me biting my lips as he managed to throw me back on the bed so he could hover over me. But then he climbed down the bed, leaving me confused as he opted to sit by the headboard before motioning me with a single finger.

“Come here, baby girl.” I crawled to him on all fours, breasts slightly bouncing as I settled between his legs and waited for further instructions, but he easily pulled me by my arm to lie against his chest, so he could spread my legs open with his. 

“Let me remind you who you belong to.” His whisper was pure sin as he tore my underwear and disposed of the fabric before plunging two fingers inside of me, making me cry out in pleasure. Even if it had been a while since I had anything of his inside of me, my wetness was enough to help with the stretch, and by the smirk I could feel against my shoulder, I knew he was damn well aware of it.

Tom’s P.O.V.

Easily locating that spot that had her thighs trembling and legs threatening to close, I focused on it as I immediately began a brutal pace of my fingers inside of her pussy. “You’re mine, princess. Even when you seem to forget that, even when I’m not around to remind you. You’ll always be my girl.”

I felt her melting against me, and the relaxation helped her become more sensitive to my brutal assault to her senses. It took no time to get her to cum around my fingers, and feeling just how tightly she clenched around them had me groaning as I doubled my efforts and continued to fuck her through this first orgasm and into another.

“T-Tommy, t-that’s too much…” She screamed, hands flying to hold my wrist in a feeble effort to pry me away from her, but I could only laugh.

“It’s not too much, sugar. It’s never too much. You were made for me, you can take every single thing I want to do to you, huh? C’mon, I know you want me to keep on playing with this pretty pussy.” Her lower lips gripped my digits tightly, calling out to me even when she couldn’t voice her needs. “Scream, baby girl. You can scream as loud as you want. They’re not here, they won’t hear you.”

I don’t think she would be able to disobey me even if she wanted to. By the time her pussy had stopped clenching and I was able to pull my fingers out of her wet hole and give myself a taste of her juices, she was taking advantage of my distraction to try to close her legs again.

“Oh no, princess. Keep those pretty legs open. I want a taste of you, now.” I managed to slide from behind her, resting her body against the pillows before finding my place between her perfect thighs again.

“I-I don’t know if I can take much more,” she whined, but I knew it was just for show. I knew her like the back of my hand, and I knew just how much she loved to be a little baby in the hopes to catch my sympathy.

“You didn’t seem that opposed to it when you attacked me after I climbed through your window,” I teased, running my bottom lip on the fragile skin of the inside of her thigh. God, she smelled incredible. It made my mouth water.

“Let me suck you for a little while,” she pleaded, trying to negotiate, and it had me chuckling against her navel.

“No, I want to focus on making you feel good tonight. You know I always lose control when I have your pretty lips around my cock. Besides, I missed your taste too fucking much. I’m only stopping when you’re crying.” And that was the only warning she got as I dived into her spread pussy, eagerly licking from hole to clit.

Her screams certainly resonated through the empty mansion, and I was once again more than glad that her parents decided to leave the house for the night. Although maybe if they heard her, they’d finally come to learn that she was fucking mine, and that there was no way in hell they’d be able to keep her away from me.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

Was it one, two, or three consecutive orgasms on Tom’s awaiting mouth? I didn’t know. I lost track of anything that wasn’t the feeling of intense pleasure that was provoked by his tongue on my clit, rubbing and licking and making me lose my mind. It finally reached a point where I felt like I couldn’t even breathe anymore, reaching down to grasp his wrist and try to beg him to stop, but all I got was a fake pout from my boyfriend.

“Aw, you think this is too much?” He mocked, smacking his lips together so I could *hear just how filthy it was, just how wet I was and how he was drenched in me. “C’mon, princess. You know this isn’t nearly enough, not after spending so long without me. Tell me you want this, c’mon.”

Somehow, I was able to gather all of my energy to beg for more, even though I was sure I couldn’t possibly deal with another orgasm or any other kind of stimulation. But I knew Tom, and I knew what would happen if I denied him of this. So a river of pleases and more, and don’t-stop, don’t you ever stop spilled right out of my mouth and it still wasn’t a lie. I always wanted him, now matter how much of him was already mine or what he had already given me.  And Tom knew that, too. 

So when my legs started to shake and a strangled cry escaped my throat, all of my body threatening to break right under his unforgiving mouth, all I got was a “I know, sugar. I know. But you can take this. C’mon, just this one more. Don’t you wanna make daddy happy?”

Tears rolled down my cheek as the boundaries of what I thought my body could physically take were broken and I came right onto Tom’s eager lips. From the depths of my mind, I could feel him slowly withdrawing from me, I felt as his breath stopped warming my abused pussy, but when I opened my eyes, was to find him looking down at me, the reddened tip of his member dripping as he fisted himself slowly, teasingly.

“Are you ready for me?” I didn’t have much of a choice. My body begged for him as much as I did, so I offered absolutely no resistance when he easily manhandled me into my knees and slid right in, the combined moisture of our juices only helping him in his task of ruining me.

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re all mine,” he whispered, seemingly to himself, and I felt a warm hand rub my back as I panted against the crumbled up sheets, wishing for him to move, wishing for him to stop, wishing for everything and all at once.

“All yours,” I managed to confirm, earning a punishing thrust against my cervix that had me moaning both in pain and in pleasure. “Forever yours.”

I knew my night wasn’t over by far, and long before my parents came back from their dinner, I’d be gone, taken by my lover to the edge where lust and love mixed and became a single feeling that possessed me - almost as greatly as he did.