#belly stuffing smut

[scoops-aboy86]

This kink has really unlocked something in me, because I don't write a lot of smut but this is the smuttiest stuffing I've ever written. Still unbeta'd, we die like Barb. 🫣🫣🫣

There's still a little bit more left to post after this, so stay tuned. I'll probably get antsy and put it up tomorrow.

🔞 Seven Christmases pt. 7

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Home pt. i (2790 words)

rated: T | cw: none | tags: chubby eddie, established relationship, weight gain, belly kink, stuffing, fluff, they’re in love, sugar cream pie, coming untouched

When Joyce offers to let them stay the night so they don’t have to drive home, Steve politely declines. 

When Robbin offers her parents’ guest room, Steve shakes his head and says, “Nah, Eddie’s too loud.”

“Oh my god, dingus, I don’t need to know that!”

“Wha—Robbie, no,” he chokes out. “He snores, Jesus!”

Never mind that they are going to get up to things tonight that Eddie will be very loud about, but that genuinely wasn’t what he’d meant. There are still some things his platonic soulmate doesn’t need to know about, for all that he’s told her enough in the past that she can probably guess. (And the only thing she’d ever said on the subject was, “Well, at least with that EMT training you’ll know what to do if it’s ever really too far,” which. True.)

Jonathan helps him load their haul of presents into the car, because Eddie is still stuffed to capacity and laid out on the couch like a beached whale, oblivious to the party still going on around him. Not asleep yet, though it’s only a matter of time. He focuses blearily through the haze of the approaching food coma when Steve comes to get him, movements sluggish but willing, and between his efforts and Steve’s muscles they get him up and out and in and buckled. 

Steve helps him crank the seat back so he still has room to breathe instead of being squashed by both the seat belt and his round gut, and takes a moment to admire the sight before him. Shallow breaths, interspersed with little groans and hiccups and burps, whining when anything jostles him even a little, Eddie is magnificent. With the apron slipped off and run quickly back into the house, the entire underside of his swollen belly is on display in a hard arc, both tight and soft as Steve, briefly, allows himself to touch. 

Just to provide some relief! He doesn’t cup where Eddie’s underbelly covers his lap. Doesn’t trace his fingers over the red lines still lingering from where Eddie’s pants had cut into him all day, right up until just before the final feast, or where the bottom of his undershirt has ridden up to cling near the apex of his domed stomach, or where the sweater has rucked up even further to escape the swell. Doesn’t lean down to bite, like he wants to. No, he’s good, just offering a quick belly rub to help ease some of the pressure before they hit the road so that any bumps along the way won’t jar this precious cargo.

“Stevieee,” Eddie moans, low and quiet, arching into his hands. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he murmurs back, distracted by the way his fingers don’t sink into his boyfriend’s fat like they usually can. Rubbing, feeling, massaging, not groping, not… not really. 

“Wanna—hic—go home,” Eddie whines, and Steve relents with one final caress over stretch-mark littered skin. He can’t wait to count how many more there are with his tongue. 

Eddie is asleep by the end of the driveway, oblivious to their assembled family all waving them a warm goodbye from the porch. 

The thing is, while Steve hasn’t been stuffing himself like his (indeed loudly snoring) boyfriend, he’s still been to six holiday get-togethers today. He’s been eating light portions, not going back for seconds… But it was two heavy breakfasts, one heavy lunch, one bowl of leek soup with a limp side salad, and two dinners with two rounds of dessert. Not to mention cookies and candies in between, some peanut brittle, some fudge, some of those apple slices with caramel dip that Mrs. Buckley had sent over with them…

He gives in and unbuttons his own pants while sitting at the last red light out of Hawkins. It feels nice; he can only imagine what it feels like when Eddie does it, that little embodiment of a sigh of relief. After all they’ve been through he just loves that Eddie can have that. 

The button from Eddie’s pants still burns a hole in his pocket all through the long drive, the gift tag off his Christmas present, signed to Steve with love. 

A hand on Eddie’s (which has drifted to rest on the shelf of his stomach as he slept) rouses him to a sleep-stale taste on his tongue. He rolls it around in his mouth, smacks his lips, trying to clear the funk before he’s even gotten around to opening his eyes. 

“Eds, baby, wake up. We’re home.”

Then something bumps against his bottom lip. And because he recognizes Steve’s voice and would trust him with his life (has, in fact, more than once), he opens. Smiles when he recognizes the texture of a sugar cookie from one of the mostly empty tins, and flutters his eyes open. His sweetheart knows that he likes to wake up to something sweet. 

“There he is,” Steve murmurs from where he’s leaning into the passenger side, a small grin widening across his handsome face. What a dork, Eddie thinks fondly. He finishes guiding the cookie into Eddie’s mouth and cups his cheek, thumb brushing away some stray crumbs while he chews. “Think you can get up for me?”

Eddie chews and hums an affirmative. For Steve, he can make anything happen. 

There’s just… one more thing he wants though, tonight. 

He swallows, clears his throat. Lets his hands drift over himself slowly, sensually, testing, and notices Steve’s eyes follow them up and down. “Mm. The thing is, Steve, I’ve gotten pretty full today, just not all the way. Not quite. But it wouldn’t take much.” He draws a slow circle around his half-exposed navel. “Do you have anything else I could eat?”

The words are barely out of his mouth when Steve blurts, red faced, “Yeah, I have something.”

“Of course you do, sweetheart,” Eddie coos happily, patting his belly. His eyes dip down, and there’s an additional flare of heat through his core to see that Steve’s pants are undone as well and, hmm… He hasn’t given much thought to it before, but a little softness suits Steve too. Doesn’t have to be as much as he’s packed on himself, but it’s nice. “Okay then, big boy—help me up?”

Steve practically trips over his own feet getting out of the car and around to Eddie’s side to get the door for him. 

What Steve has waiting for him almost makes Eddie tear up, it’s so thoughtful. 

Twice a year (Christmas and for Eddie’s birthday), Wayne always made him a sugar cream pie. Eddie knows it’s because the recipe is easy and the ingredients are pretty simple—but he also knows it’s the only thing Wayne ever baked, and he did that for him. Everything else he’d eaten today had been great, but this… this is meaningful. 

“I asked Wayne what your favorite dessert is,” Steve explains shyly. “I, uh. I hope I made it right.”

Eddie is already comfortable on the bed, except for the straining clothes he’s still wearing. He leans forward in anticipation with his eyes fixed on the first slice pie and his mouth watering. “Steve, it’s perfect. You’re perfect, my fucking… baking Adonis. Wanna taste it.”

So Steve hands him the plate. 

And the first bite is heaven. The familiar flavor, the familiar texture, spreading over his tongue and down his throat and into his already packed stomach. He actually moans at how good it all is, and Steve settles reverently next to him on the mattress, unable to tear his eyes away. 

Throughout the first slice, Steve just watches and offers him sips from a cold glass of milk. Eddie pauses here and there to tell him how it tastes, how he used just the right amount of cinnamon sugar on top, how he would happily smear the filling over Steve’s body and greedily lick it all off again. He squirms as he says the last one, trying halfheartedly to get out of his pants without needing to free up his hands, or at least get some friction on his dick. It doesn’t really work, only makes him more desperate, which drives him to scoop bigger bites into his mouth at a time. If he can’t wiggle out, he can settle for bursting some seams. 

The second slice goes much the same, only Steve settles a palm on the near side of Eddie’s belly a few bites in. Eddie just hums, accepts another drink of milk, and keeps going, so Steve keeps touching. Follows the curve of it across the tight, churning top, hand slowly alternating between big circles and long ones, until he’s reaching fully across Eddie’s widened frame. The first tentative touch of fingertips against hot bare skin makes Eddie groan with his mouth full. The first full press, Steve’s entire hand on his exposed belly, kneading where he still manages to be soft, elicits a much more lewd, extended moan that ends in a belch. 

“Oooh yeah, there baby…”

During the third, Steve moves to kneel before him on the bed and give both sides the same treatment. Eddie sits there, eyes sliding closed as he burps his way through. He just basks in it, concentrating too hard on eating to bother stretching out like a lazy cat the way he kind of wants to under Steve’s touch, feels so loved and worshiped. The piece of pie goes down faster in the face of that devotion (and the space it frees up). 

Partway into the fourth, Steve slides the tips of his fingers under Eddie’s stretched-out undershirt. Inches it up slowly, leaning forward to kiss pale, scarred, tatted up skin as it’s revealed, until both sweater and shirt are bunched up almost to his armpits. It gets Eddie to open his eyes and look down at himself with a hiccuping groan, at the way there is so much of him now. 

God, he’d been skinny his entire life all the way through high school, all six fucking years of it, living off cheap shit and not much of it. Whenever he’d gone over to a friend’s house for dinner he’d eaten everything he could without being outright rude, shoveled it in like it was a matter of survival because it was. 

It’s not anymore. His appetite has grown into a beast of a thing, one he never really bothers to rein in, but today he’s left even that in the dust. His stomach feels so tight and his entire world has narrowed to just this, just Steve rubbing his belly and the next mouthful, the bite sliding between his plump lips. 

Before he knows it, the fourth slice is gone and he’s on to the fifth. 

As Eddie starts to slow down, to truly and definitely fill up, he tries to squirm and resettle only to find himself pinned. His belly grumbles and aches and completely covers the throbbing hard-on trapped in his pants, hiding the way his zipper still splays open long-hidden under his own bulk. He has never been this full, never pushed himself this hard, but it’s been all day and he’s so close, almost there…

“You’re doing so good, Eds,” Steve murmurs when prompted with a whine. He’s still touching, pressing, kneading, holding the soft underside of Eddie’s belly in both hands and hefting experimentally before carefully easing it back to his lap, careful not to let it bounce just now. “What do you need, babe? Tell me what you need.”

The question, and how full he is, makes Eddie’s breath hitch. It’s all he can do to keep chewing, the ache in his belly taking up more and more of his attention and he’s so close, Jesus H. Christ, if he could just—

“Feed me,” he gasps. “F-finish it, St—hic—Steve, I—”

The plate is already out of his hands. Steve doesn’t even bother putting another slice on it, just takes the fork and grabs the pie pan. Sweet filling smears across Eddie’s lips as he accepts a bite, and there’s another right there and waiting before he’s even swallowed. He can’t resist (doesn’t want to), taking that too and feeling his cheeks bulge until he manages to swallow it all with a moan. All the while he’s doing what company has prevented him from doing all day: rub at his belly as he eats, soothing and massaging to try and make just a little bit more room. 

Steve nudges the next bite against his mouth, biting his own lip when Eddie’s wrap around the fork and he drags slowly back with the offering on it now missing. “I can’t believe you’re still eating, Eds,” Steve whispers in awe. “You’re so…” His hips are starting to rock, Eddie can feel the motion against his gut and padded thigh. Just a little, like he can’t help it. 

Mouth too full to respond, Eddie reaches down to paw at his own buried waistband and try to shove it down, at least wriggle his ass out to give his cock more room to breathe, still can’t—

He remembers being in the bathroom a few hours ago, thinking that he could come in these pants and no one would be able to see the sticky wetness he’d be left sitting in because of his belly. Accepting yet another mouthful, his eyes roll back briefly in his head but he doesn’t come, just moans and drools and gets more pre-come on the inside of his boxers. 

There’s pie filling on his chest and he mourns each fleck of it that escapes, but it’s so hard to swallow and he can’t budge these pants. 

“Eddie?” Steve pauses, putting the pie down even though Eddie whimpers at the loss. “Here, let me…”

And, okay, letting Steve eases him back and just about peel the pants and underwear off his lower half gives Eddie time to clear his mouth and gasp for breath. “Ohfuck, Stevie—” as Steve plants open-mouthed kisses on his belly, on his splayed thighs, on the insides of his dimpled fucking knees as he pulls the clothes off over his still-socked feet “—don’t stop, keep, I can’t—urp—if I stop I won’t be able to finish.”

Steve nods, but gets him another drink of milk first and presses gently against his tender stomach until another series of wet, hiccupy burps come out, and then soothes a hand over the taut skin. “There,” he murmurs, eyes almost unfocused as his gaze roves in a way that makes Eddie feel not just seen but memorized. Another soft pat. “More room.” Then he reaches for the pie again. 

And now it’s not even the fork anymore. Steve delivers bites to Eddie’s eager mouth with his fingers, whimpering whenever Eddie sucks on them. He starts kissing Eddie between bites, licking up the food that his desperate maw missed and feeding them back to him on his own tongue. 

And Eddie is begging for it, broken little pleas and whines and burps and helpless hiccups that escape through his perpetually full mouth, the most common words being “Steve” and “please” and “more” and “more” and “more.” He keeps accepting more almost faster than he can swallow it all but whimpers whenever Steve tries to slow down. Chewing and swallowing and working his fingers against a cramp because he’s so fucking close—

“Last bite,” Steve whispers, awed, and Eddie opens his eyes a sliver. (When had he closed them?) He can’t do more than that, can barely move from where he’s sitting bare-assed on the bed with his belly hanging out, cock throbbing like a brand against his underbelly. So close, so close… 

The last morsel breaches his sticky lips and his eyes roll back in his head knowing that he’d already eaten himself to sleep once before and yet just finished an entire pie all by himself. And it’s perfect, because the last bite feels heavy and slow traveling down his throat, but it goes, and it squeezes just as heavily into his abused stomach and that’s it. No more room, absolute maximum capacity. Anything else, even a single drop more milk, and he’ll burst. 

The little voice in the back of his head whispering more more MORE finally is drowned out by another moaning full full FULL. His eyes roll back in his head while his teeth are still clamped wantonly around Steve’s fingers, and he comes so hard his vision whites out and the all-consuming ache of his fullness turns to fizzing hot pleasure that reaches every extremity and nerve. He comes with the entirety of his overflowing body, clutching at himself, wholly consumed by the pleasure and the excess and the fact that it is Steve feeding him, loving him, to completion.

Part 8

[chunkubis-xxx]

So I’m pretty sure I have tonsillitis :( but the good news is ice cream is great for helping my throat. I brought a pint in and mindlessly lapped it up watching a show on my laptop, before I knew it the pint was gone but it tasted so yummy I had to have another. I waddled out of the tub to my freezer and grabbed another pint since my loving feeder @bigwhiteguy12-blog bought me a bunch of my favorites yesterday. He takes such good care of this swollen belly. Anywaayyy I may or may not have taken a few trips to the freezer because now I’m floating in this tub like a beached whale 🐋

Wish someone were here to get them for me so I didn’t have to get out of the tub anymore

[stretchoutforme]

latest mood: stuffing someone to the point they have pant to breathe only to suck them off/eat them out to the point they genuinely risk passing out because their body can't handle the over-stimulation

I'm greedy, I need you to focus me as well as all that digestion.

Your body can churn away but I'm the cause and the benefactor my work, plaything. You can breathe once I claim my reward.

[ianarovoices]

She has you wrapped in her tentacles, stimulating you with some of them & stuffing your mouth full of food with others.

Fattening you up while making you come, over & over.

What will come of you, her preyslut, by the end of this?

(Art by BigBurrBailey)

A Prey POV Vore Audio

This is a mini-teaser! Longer preview is here, w/ all 7 minutes on Patreon here!

[skymeres]

Delicious Deception

"Perhaps Your Highness might enjoy a special treat," he mused lowly aloud, a dangerous glint in his eye. "A few rare delicacies to tempt the palate." His heart hammered against his rib cage with the thrill of his scheme, even as guilt gnawed at its edges. He could do it. He could turn Leander's voracious appetite against him, exacting his own form of justice while potentially humiliating the prince before the entire court. It was petty, of course, but hadn't Leander's cruelty warranted some sort of retribution? When Prince Leander—handsome, charismatic, and voracious—grievously insults his loyal valet and best friend, Jenkin, the latter plans a delicious revenge for the prince: a fifteen-course birthday banquet featuring all the prince's favorite foods, designed to both humiliate him and keep him firmly rooted to his chair until his pride is thoroughly consumed.

Chapter One

With practiced preciseness, Jenkin flung open the tall windows of Crown Prince Leander's lavish bedchambers, allowing fresh air and sunlight to stream in. The valet—Prince Leander's long-serving (and long-suffering) servant—leaned his head out the window to water the flower displays with a garden hose that hooked from the ground floor all the way to the top.

Below, the familiar, playful cries of Lady Herringbone's horrible children caused him to grit his teeth. "Let's play 'Princey and Valet Sitting in a Tree' again!" squealed one, the younger one, he thought, while the older one eagerly agreed before they began climbing the handsome hawthorn in the middle of the royal garden. Hearing a toilet flush behind him, Jenkin carefully adjusted the spray nozzle, took aim, and jet-blasted them before the prince could hear. He fastened the windows back just as Leander emerged from the washrooms, closing them against the children's indignant shrieking.

"Terrorizing the nobility's offspring again, are you, Jenkin?" Leander grinned as he headed toward his mirror, the curls falling across his forehead making him look even more devastatingly debonair than usual. The valet maintained a facade of stoic professionalism, folding his hands behind him and suppressing the familiar flutter in his chest at the sight of his childhood friend.

"Simply maintaining the garden premises, Your Highness."

"Ah, good, good," Leander said in the way Jenkin recognized meant he wasn't listening. "I trust you slept well?" He extended his arms for assistance with his garments.

"Indeed, Your Highness," Jenkin replied. He caught a whiff of light, fresh lavender from the crisply laundered shirt that he smoothed flat over the prince's broad shoulders. It mingled alluringly with the prince's preferred cologne and a subtle hint of his sweat, since showers were meant for after Leander's morning workout. As he fastened the buttons across Leander's trim frame, Jenkin couldn't help but admire the sinewy muscles beneath the fabric, a result of Leander's dedicated exercise regimen.

"Excellent, excellent. I slept well enough, I suppose." The prince gave a shrug, his eyes distant for a moment before brightening again. "Now, about my upcoming birthday banquet clothes, I've given it a lot of thought, and..." Jenkin braced himself, knowing what was coming. He schooled his features into a mask of polite attentiveness, hiding his frustration as best he could. "...I've mulled it over, turned it this way and that in my head, as it were..." he waved his hands vaguely, as if to push away the nonsensical words streaming out of his mouth, "deeply considered both your insightful protestations as well as Mother's, and, well, I've decided to wear Viktor's emerald-green double-breasted frock coat," Leander announced, his voice tinged with the kind of determination one has been working up to in the midst of morning toilet use. "The one with the epaulets and gold buttons inlaid with diamonds that make them look like friendly faces."

"Your Highness," Jenkin hesitated as he weighed his words carefully, "as I said before, not only would it be considered quite gauche for a prince to wear something that once belonged to another royal as if it were a common person's hand-me-down, but that particular coat is five years out of fashion, if I may be so bold as to say." And it had certainly been quite gaudy to begin with.

Leander glanced over his shoulder as Jenkin tied his ascot in the mirror. "I'm aware, Jenkin. But it belonged to my brother, and I wish to honor him." He paused, swallowing hard. "Besides, it will show those stuffy nobles that I can fill my brother's role as their new crown prince."

Jenkin sighed inwardly, understanding the sentiment but wishing his dear friend would choose a less ostentatious way to assert himself. As he helped the prince continue his morning ministrations, Jenkin couldn't help but reflect that the loss of Prince Viktor had forced Leander to mature into a role he'd never been meant to fill, especially in the eyes of a court that had fawned fanatically over Leander's older brother.

"Viktor always did have a penchant for striking clothes," Leander continued while Jenkin expertly concealed a grimace. "I can still remember the day he first showed me that coat." Leander wandered back into the washroom and started vigorously brushing his teeth while speaking through a mouthful of toothpaste, always forgetting to brush before he was dressed. "How he twirled around the room like an emerald peacock, proud and confident. It didn't fit me back then, but he promised me I could wear it any time I wanted." He paused, eyes suddenly bright. "I just never thought it would be like this."

"I am...sure he is watching over you now, and is proud of you," Jenkin said as he brushed carefully over Leander's collar, removing toothpaste residue. He did feel for the prince quite deeply, even though it was unseemly to show such a thing. "But we don't know if the coat will fit even now."

"It will fit," Leander said defensively. "I've been able to wear his other clothes quite well."

"That's not...that's not what I meant, Your Highness," Jenkin said, the barest hint of stress catching his words. "I apologize if I worded myself poorly."

This sudden defensiveness was not out of nowhere, after all. Leander had been quite a rotund child. Before his older brother Viktor died, this had not been a problem with Queen Irida, who had barely paid her second son any mind, allowing him full run of the castle (and pantries.) After Viktor had fallen in battle, however, all her attention had shifted to him as the new crown prince, and appearance was everything. Gone were the days of idle play and eating himself sick on cream pastries. She had her son put on a strict diet and exercise program, often forcing Jenkin to obligate Leander’s workout schedule and nutritional regimen himself, which Jenkin, as fond as he was of Leander, did as gently as possible.

Only allowed the occasional indulgence on special occasions, Leander had just the bare amount of puppy fat left when he entered the army for his mandated two-year stint. By the time he came back home not even a year ago, he was a regular musclebound knockout, as cheerily adept and athletic as a professional rugby player, along with an unhealthy dose of melancholial shell shock.

"Yes, well," Leander said, "like I said, I would like very much to wear it. Seeing me in Viktor's old clothes will surely bring back fond memories for everyone." He paused, his handsome face contorting into an expression of vulnerability.

Jenkin swallowed a lump in his throat before replying. "If it means so much to you, Your Highness, then by all means, wear the coat. Forget what anyone else might think. Honor your brother as you see fit." Memories of the late Crown Prince Viktor flashed through Jenkin's thoughts—Viktor's easy confidence, his commanding presence, the way he inspired both loyalty and affection in all who knew him. The young Leander had always worshipped his older brother, bouncing after him with the boundless energy of a cheerful beach ball. Of course Leander would want to wear Viktor's coat on his birthday, and of course Jenkin would support him.

"Thank you, Jenkin," Leander clasped the hand still holding a toothbrush to his shoulder, and Jenkin smiled in spite of himself before carefully scraping off more errant drops of toothpaste. Mounted above the pair gleamed Viktor's war medals along with Leander's own, including a very prestigious medal of valor that would attach to Leander's military-style frock coat the day of the banquet. All princes were expected to serve in the army for two years during war, and all served the same way as any other called up for duty. Sadly, that meant not all of them made it home, as had happened with Viktor.

They stepped out of the prince's bedchambers and into the castle's opulent hallway where the scent of a lemony wood polish filled the air. Intricate tapestries from the royal family's centuries of rule adorned the walls while marble floors echoed their footsteps as they moved seamlessly through the corridor. Gilded mouldings lined the walls and priceless oil paintings of Osring's past rulers gazed sternly down at them. Jenkin noticed Leander squaring his shoulders as if bracing himself against the weight of his ancestors' judgment.

Rounding a corner, they came across Shang, the imposing head butler of Osring Castle, attending to his duties. The older muscular man was checking the work of a nervous pair of underservants by slowly dragging a white-gloved finger down the side of a banister, his stern expression unchanging as he then examined his glove, turned to the beleaguered servants, and gave them a nod of acquiescence. They let out a collective breath of relief, mustered up the proper greetings for Prince Leander with noticeably less anxiety than any servant ever did for Shang, and quickly made their exit.

"Good morning, Shang," Leander greeted him jovially.

"Your Highness," Shang replied somberly, bowing in return. "I trust you are well this morning?"

"Quite well, thank you," Leander answered, before flouncing ahead.

"Jenkin," Shang said, inclining his head in acknowledgment.

"Mr. Shang," Jenkin said, easing his way around his large frame before hurrying after his prince, feeling the butler's eyes boring into his back.

Despite Jenkin living most of his life in the castle and knowing that Shang had served the royal family for much longer than that, and always with the utmost decorum and loyalty, the butler had always unnerved him. Jenkin's mind wandered to the many rumors that circulated about Shang's past. Some said he was a spy, only present at the castle during his decades of service to pass along information to the enemy. Others said that he had once been an assassin, hired by a foreign nation to murder Prince Consort Briar, Viktor and Leander's late father, before their famously charismatic father had convinced him of the folly of this path. These tales were whispered in hushed tones amongst castle staff and the court alike, but no one could deny the air of mystery that surrounded the butler.

It wasn't only Shang's mysterious past that piqued curiosity, but also his uncanny knack for being aware of all happenings within the castle walls and appearing at just the right—or wrong—time. It was as if he had eyes and ears everywhere, leading Jenkin to wonder if there was anything Shang wasn't privy to. It was uncanny, and more than a little unsettling.

Jenkin quickened his pace until he very nearly matched Leander's.

***

The gymnasium, a sanctum of gleaming brass, stood as a testament to the era's affinity for physical prowess. As always, Leander marveled at the collection of exercise devices that adorned the walls and floor—rowing machines, club-like meels, and dumbbells of varying weights. The air smelled faintly of sweat and leather, a scent that numerous scrubbings by castle servants could never fully eradicate.

"Your Highness, shall we begin?" Jenkin asked, hands clasped neatly behind his back.

"Indeed, let us proceed," Leander replied with a smile, having already changed into exercise clothing.

As Leander moved through the prescribed exercises, Jenkin kept a watchful eye on both the prince and his stopwatch, offering encouraging words and counting down the remaining seconds for each repetition. Internally, Jenkin reflected on how much Queen Irida's influence had shaped Leander's current life after a childhood of being ignored. Jenkin knew all too well the pressure that weighed upon Leander, a burden made heavier by the memory of his late brother, Viktor. And yet, for all the queen's exacting standards on her son's body, there was something about Leander that remained utterly captivating to Jenkin. He found himself entranced by the fluid grace of the prince's movements, the way his muscles tensed beneath glistening skin before uncoiling like springs before he shot into action, the beads of perspiration glistening on his brow. In these moments, it seemed to Jenkin that Leander was more than just the dashing figurehead propped up by a kingdom and generations of tradition—he was human, vulnerable, and achingly beautiful.

"Excellent, Your Highness," Jenkin praised as Leander completed a particularly challenging set on a rowing machine. "You are making great progress."

"Thank you, Jenkin," Leander panted, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand before scowling at the chart behind him, checking the records from previous years. "Though it seems like I'll never get close to Viktor's skill."

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Your Highness," Jenkin said, his voice gentle as he carefully adjusted the wooden slats on a nearby treadmill. The newfangled things were always coming loose and tripping people up. "Comparing yourself to someone who isn't here anymore will only leave you feeling inadequate. You are your own person, with your own unique strengths and abilities."

Leander let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "I know, Jenkin. It's just...Viktor was everything I aspire to be. The epitome of nobility and grace. I often wonder if I'll ever live up to his memory." His face pulled downward as he once again studied the chart. "Seems like I'll always be that fat little dough ball trotting in his shadow, eh, Jenkin?" He tried to make his voice lighthearted, but after pushing himself during the workout, he seemed on the verge of tears. Jenkin felt a pang for the young prince, whose shoulders should not have to bear the weight of a dead older brother's legacy along with the grief that came with it.

"My prince, your charisma and charm are completely one-of-a-kind," Jenkin said, more forcefully than he meant. Leander looked toward him in surprise. Heart hammering, Jenkin continued, despite knowing he shouldn't. "And if anyone fails to see that, it is their own fault, and they are missing out on witnessing someone extraordinary. Because I believe that you are extraordinary—truly extraordinary—just as you are." His breath caught in his throat then. He hoped against hope he hadn't said too much and given himself and his real feelings away. It hadn't even been everything he wanted to say. Jenkin wished he could tell Leander the full truth—that he was beautiful and kind, no matter his size. But for now, he could only offer the unwavering, stoic support befitting of a servant as Leander navigated the narrow path set out for him. Their stations kept them apart, but Jenkin had long ago decided his loyalty would remain unwavering.

Leander's gaze lingered on Jenkin, surprise and gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you, my friend," he said, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. In that moment, for not the first time, there was a connection between them, an unspoken understanding that went beyond words. But then Jenkin broke their eye contact and cleared his throat, causing Leander to abruptly cough.

Jenkin gave a nervous laugh, his head lowered. "Yes, let us return to our duties," he replied softly, barely audible above the surrounding sounds. Both men resumed their tasks, but the charged energy between them lingered, suspended in the air like a fleeting moment of missed opportunity.

***

The final exertions of the morning workout routine concluded, and Jenkin carefully stowed the stopwatch in his waistcoat pocket, noting the sheen of perspiration on the prince's brow and the flush that colored his cheeks.

"Your Highness, you have performed admirably this morning," he said. "Shall we proceed to breakfast?"

"Of course, Jenkin," Leander replied, wiping his face with a towel before showering and changing back into his morning suit.

As they entered the dining hall, Leander took in the sight before him. An array of whole grains and lean proteins were artfully arranged on gleaming silver platters. Even so, despite being well aware that he lived in splendor, the prince still found himself longing for some chocolate chip pancakes or fried sugary toast once in a while. However, he offered a grateful smile to the attendants and asked, as always, for his compliments to be given to the chef.

Leander picked at his food, his naturally voracious appetite dulled by the strict diet his mother had imposed. He caught Jenkin's eye and the valet offered a small, reassuring smile that quickly schooled itself into an expression of formality as the dining hall doors swung open with a grand flourish, revealing Queen Irida in all her royal glory.

Her dress was just as ornate and costly as those of past queens, yet it had been tailored to reflect the current fashion trends. It hung straight from her shoulders and left no room for curves, creating a flattering and modish androgynous silhouette. She completed the look with a string of pearls and a sleek bobbed hairstyle.

"Leander," she said curtly, "I trust you are enjoying your breakfast?"

"Mother," he replied, standing out of respect and struggling to keep his voice steady, "your presence is always a pleasure."

"Indeed." Her gaze narrowed as she scrutinized the plates before him. "I see you are adhering to your diet. That is commendable. Remember, a strong and healthy heir is essential for our kingdom's future."

"Of course, Mother," Leander agreed, his knuckles turning white as he gripped them behind him. Internally, he couldn't help but feel the cold sting of her words—a constant reminder that he would always be second-best in her eyes, a poor substitute for his late brother. Leander seemed to shrink inward, and Jenkin had noticed years ago that the normally charismatic, assertive prince's head always lowered when the queen was present.

"And quit that slouching! I swear, that doctor who said you don't have scoliosis was a liar and a fraud."

"Yes, Mother." Leander immediately straightened.

"Ah, before I forget," Queen Irida announced, clapping her hands to get the attention of the rest of the servants as well as the chef's. "I regret to inform you that I won't be able to attend your birthday banquet next week, Leander."

The prince's surprise was evident as he looked up from his shoes, from which his eyes had naturally begun to gravitate towards once again. "Why not, Mother?"

"An urgent diplomatic matter has arisen in Kordevia," she explained tersely. "As the ruling monarch of Osring, it is my duty to attend to such matters personally. I'm sure you don't mind."

"Of course not," Leander nodded, a strange mixture of disappointment and relief vying in his chest. "Your duties must come first."

"Indeed," Irida agreed, her gaze sharp. "And don't forget, Leander—although I will not be there to oversee it, I expect you to maintain decorum and uphold our family's reputation during the festivities."

"Understood, Mother," he replied solemnly.

She gave him a prim smile before turning away on her heel. "Do keep an eye on him, won't you, Jenkin, dear?" The queen asked Jenkin with considerably more warmth than she gave to her own son, briefly cupping his jaw in a motherly fashion as she swooped by toward the door. "He can be quite a handful at times."

"I will do my utmost, Your Majesty," Jenkin said, bowing deeply toward her and feeling cold where her hand had touched him. With a nod, Queen Irida strode out of the room, leaving Leander to finish his breakfast in silence. Jenkin watched the other servants clear the table and tidy up the room, ensuring everything was in its proper place, a few of them throwing him jealous or suspicious glances.

Despite serving the prince for the better part of both their lives, he had but a few friends within the castle staff and faced constant prejudice from others within the castle. As the orphaned son of diplomats who had hailed from Blienau, a country with long-standing tensions with Osring and with which Osring was currently at war, he often felt the sting of their derision. The other servants mocked his accent and questioned his motivations, especially since the queen and her now-deceased husband had taken a shine to him and allowed him to stay on all those years ago.

Jenkin remembered when he'd first met Leander outside of official greetings, right after he'd endured a particularly violent spate of bullying. He'd hidden down a remote corridor, nursing black eyes and sobbing into his arms.

"Hello," the curious voice of a child had called to him, and Jenkin had looked up to see the round figure of the second-born prince, someone he'd never spoken to before. Leander's eyes had held a mix of emotions—compassion and something Jenkin would only understand later as a profound loneliness mingling with a glimmer of hope, probably the same expression Jenkin had worn himself while giving the prince a low bow, face still dripping the most embarrassing of fluids.

Leander had been the first person his age to show him kindness after he was orphaned, and afterward, he defended him against anyone who cast suspicion on Jenkin or mocked him out of simple prejudiced hate. The prince might have been, as he himself put it, a "dough ball" back then, but his station commanded respect, and in the rare instances that didn't work, or he wasn't recognized...well, he'd always been strong.

Shaking off these thoughts, Jenkin turned his attention back to his duties. He knew that he could not change the opinions of others, nor did he require their approval. His unwavering dedication to Prince Leander was what truly mattered.

"Jenkin," Leander called softly, drawing the valet from his reverie. "I know you are loyal to Osring, and to me," Leander said earnestly, having watched his interactions with the other servants and knowing what was likely on his mind. "Thank you for that, and for...well, for everything."

"Of course, Your Highness," Jenkin replied, a fondness not at all befitting of a servant creeping into his voice. "It is my honor and privilege to serve you."

***

Upon re-entering Leander's sumptuous chambers, as per usual, some of the rigid decorum that defined their interactions was set aside. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and the two old friends could speak without the weight of expectations or protocol bearing down upon them.

"Jenkin," Leander began, pacing back and forth, "you know as well as I that Mother will be departing for Kordevia next week."

"Indeed, Your Highness, as we just heard," Jenkin replied, suppressing a smile. "I have been well informed of her impending journey."

"Yes, well," Leander fluttered a hand absently, "as she said, I am expected to uphold the highest standards of decorum and etiquette as is befitting of the Crown Prince of Osring—particularly given the current state of relations between the nations."

"Of course, Your Highness," Jenkin said with a small bow. "It is only natural that you should wish to present yourself in the best possible light," he added, wondering where this was going.

"And of course I will! But, Jenkin," he paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "do you think it would be terribly inappropriate if we were to...add a few extra treats to the banquet menu?"

"Your Highness," Jenkin replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully, entirely a pretense meant to amuse the both of them. Inwardly, his most embarrassing self was jumping with glee. "While I understand your desire to celebrate this occasion with a touch of extravagance, I must remind you that Her Majesty expects us to maintain her rules."

"Ah, but surely she wouldn't begrudge me a few additional morsels on my own birthday?" Leander said with a grin, and this was true: the queen always allowed Leander a bit more indulgences on holidays, and it was something of a fun game for Jenkin to sneak him even more treats afterward. This time, they wouldn't even have to sneak.

"Indeed, Your Highness," Jenkin conceded, his lips quirking upward in a subtle smile. "In light of the circumstances, I believe we can make some small exceptions to the usual protocol."

"Oh, thank God." Leander whumped backward onto his bed, beaming in anticipation of a feast far too distant in the future for either of their liking.

Despite Leander's large frame having shrunk away, his prodigious appetite had persisted. He had even told Jenkin after a party the past year that his army training against enemy emissions had made him more adept at consuming large quantities of food without becoming ill. This was something Jenkin had happily (for he had always found such a strange pleasure in watching his prince overindulge,) witnessed on that odd holiday in which the queen allowed Leander something other than the boring salads, lean meats, and raw fruit “desserts” that encompassed his meals these days, and after Jenkin had brought the extra treats from the kitchen back to Leander's bedchambers. Even better for Jenkin than watching Leander enjoy himself on these occasions was the groaning, pitiful aftermath of an overly replete prince. It was a sight he secretly longed to witness more often, though he knew that such desires were unbecoming of a servant in his position.

Truthfully, Jenkin felt terrible for the excitement he felt over these rare instances—he didn’t want Leander harmed; truly, he didn’t—but he couldn’t deny how much he wanted to get his hands on that taut, grumbling belly and soothe the prince’s pain, offering him relief that could only ever exist in Jenkin's wildest fantasies.

"I shall make the necessary arrangements."

"Thank you, Jenkin." The dimples around Leander's smile deepened, his eyes sparkling with gratitude as he looked up at him from where he lay, guileless in their adoration. "You truly are a marvel." Jenkin cleared his throat and turned away as he felt his cheeks heat up, not for the first time wondering what he'd done to deserve to have anyone—not to mention a prince—look at him that way, even if it was only because he offered Leander treats as if he were a puppy. Still, it was intoxicating, and he had to constantly remind himself not to let his imagination run wild. Any other reason was out of the question.

Oblivious to Jenkin's inner anguish, Leander sat up cross-legged on his bed (still wearing his boots, to Jenkin's consternation,) and began chattering animatedly about the upcoming feast, his plans for the day, and the gossip he'd heard over the week, Jenkin nodding along absently, not particularly interested in castle gossip but happy that Leander was so exuberant about something. His arrival back home from war had created an oft-deadened emotion in his dearest friend, adoring expressions and dimples notwithstanding.

"Jenkin, you wouldn't believe what I overheard Sirs Kensington and Herringbone plotting yesterday," Leander continued excitedly with his story, starfishing his arms in his exuberance to emphasize his point. In doing so, however, his hand took a wild detour into a delicate lighting fixture hanging above his bed stand.

Wham! The fixture's descent was swift and brutal onto the polished hardwood floor, where it promptly exploded in a shower of glass and sparks, scattering across the room in a chaotic display.

Face suddenly switching from enthusiastic delight to the blank visage of a shell-shocked soldier, Leander instinctively threw himself forward, covering Jenkin's body with his own in a desperate attempt to shield him from perceived danger. Beneath him, Jenkin tensed, momentarily confused by Leander's actions but quick to shut off any emotional outcry from himself, recognizing this as the battle fatigue his prince had come home from war with not a year past.

As they lay there on the floor, their faces mere centimeters apart, Jenkin purposefully matched his breathing rate to Leander's as he watched his face. Once synced, he carefully slowed his breaths down, Leander unconsciously matching him until he blinked, shaking some of the frightening blankness from his face. Jenkin could still feel Leander's heart pounding through his clothes, and he reached up and placed a cautious hand on Leander's shoulder.

Because of Jenkin's status as a native of Blienau, he of course had not been allowed to go with Leander to the battlefields like other valets would have been. Jenkin had no personal bloodlust in his heart, especially not toward his own people, but whenever something of this sort happened, he wished he had been allowed. He would do anything, even sacrifice his own innocence, to shield his prince from whatever horrors occupied his mind and marred that once-bright spirit at times like this.

"Your Highness, are you quite alright?" Jenkin asked softly, concern etched upon his face as he gazed into Leander's eyes.

"Y-yes," stammered Leander, suddenly quite hot all over. "I'm sorry, Jenkin. I just...I heard the crash and thought...I thought..."

"Perfectly understandable, Your Highness," Jenkin replied soothingly, trying to offer comfort while maintaining his professional demeanor, which was becoming more difficult now that the initial shock was over and their closeness was realized. "A natural response to the situation," he added, even though it was most certainly not.

"Thank you," Leander muttered. Slowly, they extricated themselves from their tangled embrace, moving to stand apart from one another. "Well, then," Leander said, dusting off his clothes and looking away. "I suppose we ought to continue our conversation as if nothing has happened." He offered a shaky smile, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Of course, Your Highness," Jenkin replied, his voice steady despite the emotions warring inside him. As they spoke, Leander attempting to resume his story where it had stopped, Jenkin's mind wandered back to that fleeting moment of closeness, and he found himself stealing glances at Leander's lithe form.

"Is...is everything all right, Jenkin?" Leander asked, catching the valet's lingering gaze. "You seem a bit distracted."

"Apologies, Your Highness," Jenkin stammered, quickly averting his eyes. "I assure you, I am fully attentive to our conversation." He busied himself with straightening an already-straight stack of political texts, trying to regain his composure.

"Very well," Leander replied, giving him a thoughtful expression, his own thoughts filled with the memory of just how warm Jenkin had felt beneath him.

[naughtynoodle056]

Some doodles in the spirit of the season

[kinki-sloot]

Intro Post

Hi World!

I was raised with a healthy respect for the fae, I don't give anyone my name. However, you can call me Djaq! I'm a 27 year old nonbinary/genderfluid, queer, neurodivergent, chubby, belly lover! I enjoy roleplaying and writing, and once in a while I may post my own belly!

If you don't have an age in your bio or pinned post, you will be blocked!

Kink is not an appropriate topic for underage folks to interact with adults regarding, and this is 100% a kink blog

I do not give consent for any of my original work, whether written or pictures, to be reposted anywhere.

Anything I write will be tagged "Djaqwrites"

Any pics or videos I post will be tagged "Djaqpics"

Any asks I answer will be tagged "Djaqanswers"

Likes:

Bellies (soft ones, bloated ones, stuffed ones, taut ones, achy ones, jiggly ones)

Burping/moaning

Belly rubs

Stuffing/bloating of others

Taking care of others

Teasing/praising/encouraging

Pregnancy

Labor

Eggpreg

Monsterpreg

Lactation

Dislikes:

Vore

Vomiting

Scat

Gore

Force feeding

Degradation

Humiliation

I'm pretty new to this whole Tumblr thing, so bear with me while I figure it all out!

[sanguinaryviper]

Asks are empty so feel free to send some in!

[hungryvampire]

Only 3 votes? I’m so… disappointed 😔

3 more days to vote! I mayor may not be wanting to write a short story based on the results😏…

[chunkubis-xxx]

Just admiring all my stretch marks 💕🥵

[fairy-angel222]

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐀𝐖 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

—telling the jjk men to forget about the condom.

ft. 𝗀𝗈𝗃𝗈, 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗈, 𝗍𝗈𝗃𝗂, 𝗇𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂, 𝗌ukun𝖺, 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗈

content. smut, choking, praise, breeding, spit, unprotected sex, dirty talk, squirting, finger sucking, passing out, belly bulge, slight cervix fucking

requested by: anon

͙͘͡★ 𝑮𝑶𝑱𝑶

Grins when you moan out the words. Feeling his teeth against your skin as he kissed up your neck, stopping just below your ear with a breathy chuckle.

"Yeah? Wan' feel my veins sliding against those walls when i fuck you baby?" He cooed, watching as you nodded with a whimper, tugging at the rubber material stretched over his cock.

"P-please, wan’ it so bad." you choked out a mewl, greedy cunt aching to feel him deep inside you.

He hummed, slender finger pushing back the hair on your forehead, his head tilting as he ran it across your bottom lip instead. “What do you wanna feel, hmm? Tell me how you want it.”

"Raw.. wanna feel you raw." Your face burned as Gojo continued to rub his cock teasingly between sopping folds. “My pleasure baby.”

Your boyfriend tugged off the only form of barrier between you two. Your lips parted in a loud moan when Gojo thrusted into you. Back arching off of the bed as he found a pace, rocking you back and forth each time his cock prodded your gummy spot.

“Satoruu, so good— haah. Can feel all of you. So, so deep— fuck.” You cried out, arms reaching up to scratch at his back as your legs wrapped around his waist. The man slamming his hips down roughly onto your pelvis.

He was right. You could feel every inch of his cock rubbing against your gummy walls. His full length taking its time to kiss your spot before bottoming deep, your head falling back with a series of loud mewls.

“Satoru.”

“You like feelin’ me like this baby?” He rasped, breathing getting heavier when you clenched down on him. “Fuck- can feel all of you too. Slutty pussy’s squeezing me so tight.”

It was so much more intimate than usual, being able to feel all of each other was sending you over the edge. Your noises only became louder and as you neared your high. Eyes rolling back and brain turning to mush with every roll of his hips. A high pitched mewl falling past your lips when he reached down to rub your sensitive clit.

“Should just pump ya full of my cum while we’re at it. Fill you real good.” He grunted, thrusts hard and bruising as he bullied your pussy stuffed. An incoherent babble falling past your lips when his lips brushed over yours. Blue eyes darkening as he grinned, “Gonna do just that baby. You want that? Want my cum leaking out of your perfect pussy?”

You nodded with a shaky whimper, body trembling as you dumbly cried out his name, squirting messily onto him and his cock. Gojo letting out a deep groan as his thrusts became sloppy, hammering even deeper into you until he stilled with tensed abs. Pumping your stomach round and full with his cum.

“There we go, fuck. Take it nice and s-shit— deep. Good girl.” Pressing a kiss to your lips and pulling out of you, letting his cum seep out of you in thick spurts as you shivered from the loss of contact. He’d been waiting for that for way too long.

͙͘͡★ 𝑮𝑬𝑻𝑶

Raises an eyebrow when you stop him from sliding on the condom. A smirk eventually gracing his face making your cheeks heat up. “Oh? My girl wants to get dirty tonight hmm?”

You let out a small whine, your hands over your face pulling out a hum from your boyfriend. You sure about this baby?”

“Mhm.. wanna feel you raw.”

“Whatever you want princess.” He wasted no time before he was behind you. A deep arch in your back with your ass in the air and face buried in a pillow. Your grip tight on the sheets as Geto’s thick veiny cock pushed into you.

You let out a mewl, his length grazing your walls while pressing into your g spot.

“Fuck. Didn’t think this pussy could get any better.” He groaned, a hand on the back of your neck with the other on your hip. A loud cry escaping your throat when he began fucking into you relentlessly.

“Suguru, oh f-fuckk. Nngh— so good.” you moaned, eyes teary as he continuously slammed into you, rocking your body with each of his mean thrusts.

You could feel him so deep inside you, practically kissing at your cervix every time his hips landed onto your ass. There was so much more contact, being able to feel every inch of his curved length as it pummeled your gummy spot. Your cries of his name muffled as you drooled onto the sheets beneath you.

“You feel that princess?” He grunted, lifting one of his legs so that he could roll his hips into you. A loud moan leaving your mouth as you nodded, clearly able to feel any change in his movements. “Feel good ain’t it?” Keeping up his pace until you were falling apart under him.

Brain turning to mush as your eyes rolled back, Geto pressing down harder into the back of your neck to support his high thrusts. Almost bouncing himself off of the flesh of your ads just so you could feel his deep.

“S-suguru. So good Suguru. So— haah,” you could barely process your own words. Mind filled with nothing but how good he felt inside you. Stretching your cunt so good as you clenched around him, wetness trailing his cock with your slick.

“Pretty pussy’s so greedy f’ me. Look at how much she’s sucking me in.” He rasped, breathing speeding up as he let out a series of groans and grunts. “Fuck, gonna cum for me baby? Cum for me nice and hard while i fill you up?”

You nodded shakily, body trembling as a choked scream echoed through the room. “F-fuck.” Letting out cries of his name as you fell off the edge. Making a mess on his cock while his thrusts became sloppy.

“Shit, can i cum in you princess?” He breathed, your dumbed down hum of confirmation being enough for him as he stilled. Coating your insides with ropes after ropes of his sticky cum.

͙͘͡★ 𝑻𝑶𝑱𝑰

Is elated when you utter the words. Immediately stopping whatever he was doing and practically carrying you to your bedroom. “Fucking finally. I hate the feeling of that shit on my dick.” He smirked, towering over you until you fell back onto the bed.

The large man on top of you with a groan as he buried his face into your neck. “Gonna break that little pussy tonight. You’re on the pill right baby?”

“Yes.” You whimpered, Toji’s hand snaking around your throat with a hum, “Good.”

It wasn’t long before you were naked, your knees pressed into your chest as your loud moans and mewls filled the room. Toji’s broad hips slamming roughly into yours as he fucked you deep.

Thick girth hitting your g spot with each speedy thrust. You let out a whiny cry, your lips parted in short mewls that matched his harsh movements. Body being rocked into the bed at an inhuman pace as your sopping pussy was bullied.

“T-tojii— nngh, so g-ood.” You whimpered, Toji’s grip on your neck tightening as he leaned further onto you. “Yeah? Feel me deep in ya?” Grinning darkly when you nodded, “Let’s see how much deeper i can go hmm?” You let out a tiny sob when he forced his cock even deeper, stretching you open to take all of him as he bottom out.

You couldn’t help your loud noises as you felt every part of your boyfriend’s dick inside you. Feeling every vein and every curve rubbing against your slippery walls as his hips rammed forward.

“Needed to feel this bare pussy f’ so long now, fuck.” He grunted deeply, “She’s so fucking greedy.”

You mewled shakily, “O-oh fuck- Toji, ‘m close. Can feel you so deep.” Your boyfriend keeping up his pace with a groan. “Open f’ me baby.” Letting a glob of his spit fall onto your tongue, a twitch running through his cock when you swallowed tearily.

He was fucking you stupid, brain fuzzy and your vision blurred as you were brought closer and closer to orgasm. Chest heaving heavily when your eyes met Toji’s. “Look so fucking pretty under me.” Your pussy spasming at the gruff undertone of his voice.

You let out a string of cries of his name, your eyes rolling back as your legs quivered. Toji’s hand threatening to tighten as he growled lowly. “Look at me when you cum baby.”

Your eyes met his, the man’s thrusts sending pleasurable shivers through your body as you reached your high. Trying your hardest to keep your eyes open as you came. A slap on your clit forcing them back on his as you made a mess.

“That’s it. My messy fucking girl. ‘M gon’ fill you up so good.” He breathed, sloppy movements coming to a halt as he buried himself deep inside you. Pumping you full with his hot cum while pressing his lips to yours. It was about time you let him do that.

͙͘͡★ 𝑵𝑨𝑵𝑨𝑴𝑰

He was pleasantly surprised to hear you utter the words, chin still glistening with your juices as he pulled away from your wet pussy. “You sure you don’t want me to use one sweetheart?”

“Nuh uh, wanna feel you raw.” You assure, tugging the man closer to you to sit him down. Nanami pulling you onto his lap with a small smile when you whimpered, your sensitive clit accidentally bumping into his thigh.

“Whatever you want sweetheart.” Pressing his lips onto yours for a kiss, allowing you to taste your sweetness as he ran his cock between your folds, collecting your wetness before lining himself up.

You moaned when the large hands on your hips guided you to sink down. His thick cock stuffing you full as you struggled to take all of him, already feeling him deep inside you.

You could feel all of him, pale colored cock grazing your walls perfectly as he reached further and further into you. The outline of his tip visible on your belly when the underside of your thighs touched his lap.

Nanami groaned, hands on your hips helping you to move up and down while you rolled your hips back and forth. Loud mewls falling past your lips as your arms draped over his shoulders, nails digging into his muscular back when he sped up the pace.

“Kento— so good. So deep.” You cried, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your g spot was pressed into over and over again. The feeling of him kissing your walls so sweetly making your mind grow foggy.

“Look you beautiful when you ride me. Feels so amazing, sweet pussy was made to take my cock like this.” He grunted, watching as your head fell back with a high pitched moan, feeling another orgasm swirling in you.

Nanami’s breaths sped, guiding you to move even faster on his length as his name fell off your tongue. “Kentoo— ‘m so close. Want you to cum in me.”

Nanami groaned, mouth latching onto one of your breasts as you clenched down on him, your hands finding their way to tangle in blonde strands as your back arched.

“Kento, oh f-fuck.” Your toes curled as your eyes closed. Body trembling lightly when you messily gushed onto his thighs. The man feeling his cock twitch as he used your cunt to milk him dry. Allowing his cum to paint your insides a sticky white.

His hands never stopped moving you, whiny mewls leaving your lips at the slight overstimulation as he kissed up your neck. “Don’t know how i’ll ever be able to go back sweetheart. All i wanna feel is your bare pussy like this.” He breathed, letting his hips do all the work in fucking you to yet another orgasm.

͙͘͡★ 𝑺𝑼𝑲𝑼𝑵𝑨

Sukuna would never tell you, but he sometimes never used condoms anyway. He only made you think that he did. He just needed to feel you. So he’d fuck you till you passed out, giving you no chance of finding out.

When you tell him you finally want to not use one he grins with a head tilt, fingers under your chin as he backed you up onto a wall. “Hmm? Why’s that?” Eyeing you hungrily making you whimper under his gaze.

“Just.. wanna feel you raw.”

Your boyfriend licked his lips with a hum, “I can definitely make that happen.” Not giving you a chance to so much as blink before his arms were hooked under your thighs, lifting you up against the wall with a deep inhale. “Wet f’ me already huh? I love that.”

He didn’t bother taking off your underwear, ripping your panties right down the middle while your legs secured their place around his hips.

You moaned loudly when he stuffed his full length into you. Able to feel every part and every inch of his cock against your walls when he began fucking up into you. Slamming his hips up at a toe curling speed that had your back arching against the wall.

“K-unaa,” you mewled, your boyfriend’s cock forcing its way in all the way. Leaving a painful stretch as his tip threatened to push past your cervix.

You let out a string of cries, arms holding onto him tight as you were moved up and down at an inhuman pace. “Fucking pussy’s so perfect.” He groaned, his movements remaining unaltered as he brought a finger to run across your swollen bottom lip. Shoving it into your mouth to sit at the back of your tongue. “Taking me so well.”

You moaned, eyes clouding with tears as your spot was relentlessly slammed into. Turning you to putty in his hands while your brain went dumb. “Kunaa— feels- nngh.. feels s’ g-good.”

“Yeah? Like when i turn you into my little brain dead doll?” He grunted, watching as you nodded with a whiny cry. “Mhm, can feel you so deep.” His single hand on your hips allowing him to fuck you to his liking.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, your legs beginning to tremble as your noises got louder. Eyes rolling back with an incoherent babble of his name, letting out a short scream when his spit coating finger reached down to rub at your clit. Circling the small bud with a wide smirk.

“Gonna make mess f’ me yeah? Let that pussy spray me like it always does?”

His words went unprocessed in your head, feeling yourself slowly slip in and out of consciousness as you were moved up and down his thick cock like a ragdoll. His cock leaving a visible bulge in your stomach as he neared his own orgasm.

You came with a choked sob, head resting against the wall with an opened mouth. Body quivering uncontrollably in your boyfriend’s arms as you squirted harshly. Coating his cock and legs in your wetness.

Sharp teeth bit at your neck as Sukuna’s thrusts became sloppier. Finally coming to a stop so he could pump you to the brim with his cum. Something that he’d wanted to do for a very long time. “It’s about time i got to fill you up like this.” He breathed, glancing up to see you yet again passed out.

Sukuna chuckled. His size and his speed put together was just too much for you.

͙͘͡★ 𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑺𝑶

His dick hardened the second you said it. Pouncing on you with widened eyes, “Really?”

You giggled, The boy looking at you with pure need in his puppy like eyes. Hoping that you were being serious about it.

“Yes baby, really.” You smiled, feeling your boyfriend’s erect cock pressing into you. “You sure?” He mumbled, “I won’t be able to pull out.” You pressed a short kiss to his lips, “I don’t want you to pull out, wanna feel you raw.”

That was all he needed to hear. Handling you on your knees with your back pressed against his chest. His hips rutting roughly into you as he basked in the feeling of your warm cunt around his bare cock.

“So good.” He moaned, “You’re so snug.” Hands on your waist as your head fell back against his shoulder, giving the boy the perfect view of your lewdly bouncing breasts.

You mewled, Choso’s cock rolling into your g spot at a pace that drove you insane. Your moans competing to be just as loud as his as you too got lost in the feeling of his bare cock. You could feel both his distinct veins grazing your walls when his pace sped up.

“Nngh— feels so perfect. Wanna fuck you like this forever.” He whimpered, burying his face into your neck as his legs weakened. Finding yourself lying on the bed with Choso hovering over you from behind, slamming his hips down onto you sloppily. Loud squelching joining skin slapping in the air.

“C-choso. Haah, so good baby.” You cried, back arching as he shoved himself even deeper at the praise. Chasing his high while bringing you to yours.

He let out a string of whiny cries, the snapping of his hips losing their rhythm as his cock twitched. Not allowing himself to cum until you did.

It was just so hard, you felt so good. Gripping his cock tightly every time you clenched down on him. The boy unable to help the way he fucked into you with desperation.

You and Choso let out matching mewls, your hands gripping the sheets as your spot was hammered at a merciless pace. Your moans turning into choked sobs as your body shook along with the bed. Toes curling and eyes rolling back as you neared your orgasm.

“Choso— nngh, cummin’ baby.”

“Please, cum f’ me. Need you to cum so i can too.” he breathed with a tremble, voice going up a pitch when you began squirting. Drenching his cock in your juices as your pussy spasmed.

Choso moaned in content, hips eventually halting their movement as he buried himself in you. Spurting all of the thick substance into you with a sigh. He kept himself in that position, his cock preventing any of his cum from escaping as he began to roll his hips once more. Addicted to how amazing your pussy felt.

[ozarkthedog]

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞

summary: you warm Logan’s cock while he smokes.

pairing: Logan Howlett x afab!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni. smut. cock warming. grinding. Logan smoking. unbeta'd. w.c: 637

an: just a little something to clear my mind. i’m a whore for Logan and his cigars 🙃

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Give me a light, Sugar." Logan murmurs, placing the fresh, unlit cigar between his lips.

He leans against the headboard of his bed with a ragged sigh and wraps his hands around your waist, balancing you on his lap. "Careful now," he hisses as your cunt swirls around his cock. Logan always insisted on keeping you stuffed full of his cock after sex, something about making it stick, even though you both knew it was impossible to conceive. "Don' wanna spill and make a mess now, do ya?"

You roll your eyes and reach for the silver lighter he chucked on the bedside table before he took you to bed. His warm, brute hands keep you steady as you grasp the silver rectangle and right yourself on his lap. You drink down his playful gaze; his dark eyes glint with mischief as he tongues the cigar side to side.

You flick the wheel, igniting a luminous golden flame. Logan's features look sinister under the dancing tint as the earthy tobacco cracks and sizzles while you light the head. He takes a slow drag; smoke fills his lungs before spilling between his lips and swirling up toward the ceiling.

The searing red ember mocks you like your cunt isn't burning just as hot as it's stretched around Logan's girth while he enjoys a cigar after fucking you into his mattress.

He curses on the second drag when your body trembles in his lap. The tight rim of your cunt clutches the thick base of his cock; slick drooling down and coating his heavy sac.

"Y'sure like watchin' me smoke, huh, bub." he rumbles, rolling the cigar to the corner of his mouth. Wisps of smoke rise and swirl as you slowly grind your hips and demurely nod. "That'a girl."

You rest your hands on his burly shoulders, fingers digging into the dense muscle as you indulge in the scorching ache that's settled between your thighs. The dark, wiry hairs that litter the base of his cock rub roughly against your swollen clit, the extra pressure heightening your bliss as the bulbous head cruelly kisses the deepest part of you.

"Yeah, that's it. Take what you need." Logan praises, hands tightening around your waist, moving in tandem with your frantic grinds as you chase the overwhelming pleasure blossoming in your belly once again.

Logan weaves a hand around the back of your neck and presses your forehead to his. His fiery eyes, all-consuming, bore into your own. It's close, too close. So, intimate and intoxicating, but so is Logan.

The smoke from his cigar makes your eyes water and suffocates your airways, but he doesn't grant you solace. "You're stayin' right here. You ain't leavin' 'til you come."

Your pitiful sob does nothing but spur him on.

He callously digs his fingers into your curves, forcing you to keep the steady grind of back and forth, back and forth, until you gasp his name and cry out into the dimly lit room for him.

A deep growl rumbles his chest, his own pleasure racing to the forefront of his mind as your cunt quivers around his length. Your orgasm ripples through you, swirling and milking Logan's cock, as his hips rise off the bed and he spills inside you for the second time that evening.

You collapse with a tired sigh against his chest, his cock still nestled in your warmth as your heartbeat slows to its natural rhythm. He lazily drags his fingers up the column of your spine while puffing on his cigar. "Looks like I'll always have to keep a pack'a cigars on me." He teasingly chuckles.

"When don't you have a pack of cigars on you?" you quip, yanking on his chest hair.

He quirks his brow, agreeing with a sly grin. "You're right."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[bunnis-monsters]

Do Queens from different hives interact and share tips for mating?

Also, pregnant sex please, imagine being so full of eggs a big strong bee hybrid holds you by your armpits to alleviate the weight while below you another pretty bee lifts your hips and slides you up and down their cocks.

I’d say no, they usually really dislike each other. You are probably the only queen willing to be kind, the others view you as a potential rival and target for assassination. The only reason the other queen: haven’t killed you yet is because your hive is very strong and some of your sons have joined their hives to diversify their numbers.

Now onto the smut!

The bee hybrids absolutely love pregnant sex. Seeing you waddle down the halls and play with the children while you’re barely able to move gets them going. It’s not long before they’re taking you into a spare room, one lifting you up and the other pushing their fat cock into that pretty cunt of yours.

Your belly is already distended and heavy with eggs, but they hold you up anyways, finding pleasure in taking turns pushing your womb to its limits.

Your tits spurt warm milk as your pussy takes the final egg, and you’re finally filled to the brink. They lick up your milk happily, giving your clit some gently rubs to make you clench around their eggs!

By the time they’re done, you’re so heavy you can’t walk anymore, and they have to carry you back to your room… a little guilty that they’ve stuffed you a bit too full. They’ll snuggle you and give you tons of kisses and fluffy hugs to make you feel better though!

The urge to fill you with more eggs is always on every bee hybrid’s mind, even when you’re so stuffed full of eggs that you’re barely able to get around.

How are they supposed to control themselves when their queen is so cute and plump, so breedable? It’s a mystery on why this hasn’t happened yet.

Of course, the two are reprimanded for mating with you and skipping ahead in the line(each bee gets their turn to mate with you in your quarters) but it’s hard to blame them.

You don’t really mind either, now you get pampered and spoiled even more!

[prettycoolgirl]

juno

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader.

summary: logan can't resist the urge to breed you

a/n: one small prompt just for now, thought about this while listening to juno by sabrina carpenter literally so so good but also(i need to have this man's kids). feel free to send me concepts! & requests are open. also please lemme know if i made any errors i hateee proofreading enjoy <33

warnings: 18+, smut, age gap once again (reader is in her 20s). just pure breeding kink. p in v. teeny bit daddy kink? definitely more warnings…

word count: 444

logan knew he shouldn't be imagining you with your belly rounding with his child, and breasts growing heavy with milk, especially at a family event. it felt so wrong.

that was how you and logan ended up leaving the party so early. he'd been eyeing you the whole night as you tended to your newborn nephew with such affection. it had sent him straight to the edge. he'd decided to make it his mission tonight to pump you full of his seed.

as soon as you both were through the door, he pinned you against it, pressing his soft pink lips against yours. whilst his hands started to roam your body.

"you know how fucking hard you made me seeing you play momma"

"yeah and why's that" you smiled and leaned in for more kisses. he began to lift you up and wrap your legs around his waist. carrying you to the bedroom, tossing you down on the bed. "makes me wanna get you pregnant, and i shouldn't be wanting that, you're young and have so much ahead of you, but fuck i can't help but want to have you all swollen walking around with my kid." he unbuckled his belt, eyes locked onto yours with his hard length out.

"don't hold back lo just because i’m young, i’m old enough to know what i want. lemme make you a daddy"

"yeah? you want me to make you a momma? have you stuffed with my seed all fucking year long."

"please, daddy i want a baby," you whispered, "please, i wanna have your babies." your words trailed off as he settled between your thighs, the thick head of his erection pushing against your entrance.

logan’s pace had quickened, going in and out of you, with his balls slapping your clit. "fuck you feel so good, angel. you’re so fucking warm&tight. yeah, that’s it squeeze me like that. not leaving you till you're pregnant with my baby.” he rasped.

“lo-logan. please come inside of me. i need it soo bad. fu-fuck daddy give me your cum-“

logan was pounding into you, reaching between you two, rubbing your folds. "that’s it, baby. pussy was practically made for me. c'mon angel squeeze around my cock while i knock you up." his words pushed you over the edge, as you came hard.

the final thrust, logan buried himself deep inside of you groaning. leaving his hot&warm seed inside of you, that painted your womb. he ended up collapsing on top of you gently, both of you trying to come down from your high. when he finally spoke, "better do a round two, just to make sure i did a good job." 

[lokisgoodgirl]

loki stuffing your panties into ur mouth to keep u quiet while fucking u in the empty throne room !!!

Don't mind if I do. 😎🩲 Ps. I HC that Asgardians don't really do underwear, so we have something else instead.🧤

Throne

Warnings: Smut/ Soft dom! King! Loki/ Gagging/ Breeding kink elements. I've been off work this afternoon so rattled this out, apols for any snaffoos - I'm in a bubbly mood today so fancied some filth. w/c 750 A link to my masterlist is here

Loki’s angular face is all sharpness and shadows in the gloom of a hundred torches lining the wall.

“Closer,” he orders, and you obey. Your eyes flicker penitently from the floor, pinning on his as you climb the steps. His leather-gloved fingers toy leisurely with the strap around his hips; the pop of metal buttons echoing. Everyone else is at the feast, and the throne room has never looked more beautiful: like a glittering, golden tomb. This isn’t what you expected when the king slipped you a note in the great hall – but now you’re here, you can’t imagine it being anything else.

“Closer,” he says again.

One corner of his mouth curls. You gasp as he reaches out, pulling you to his lap in one harsh movement and the iron meat of his bound cock slams against your clit. Loki’s hands run covetously up your thighs, pushing the chiffon dress around your hips. “Ore and blood,” he breathes, slipping a finger between your folds and thrumming against your clit. "I've wanted you all night. Hel's fire, you have no conception of how much." A strangled moan scrapes from your throat, and immediately the free hand not making lazy circles on your cunt is pressed to your mouth. “Quiet,” he warns gruffly. The god’s hair is glossy in torchlight; tangled with a sheen like magpie wings. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “Use your hands. Quickly.” You grasp against his crotch, sliding a hand inside his leathers and curling around what lies within. Your eyes widen, and Loki’s amused expression twists to pleasure as your grip tightens. He's as hard as the marble pillars. “Gods, how I’ve wanted this,” he says breathlessly as you shift up and hover over the tip. “Say it?” you beg, brushing the head of his legendary cock against your slit. “Please…”

Pearls of sweat glisten on Loki’s forehead, and he looks up beneath those dark lashes, his bottom teeth jutting forward as he tries to restrain himself from thrusting into you like the sexual beast he is. “I command you to fuck the king, as you were born to do,” he drawls with all the regal arrogance you’d requested. Your slippery pussy edges down the god’s length, meeting the root with a filthy growl from his throat. Loki’s hands fly to the arms of the throne, and you’re sure his knuckles are whitening beneath those slutty leather gloves as you begin to rock against him. Your groans sound like music in the empty hall; bouncing between pillars of marble like mockingjay song. “Quiet,” he grits, brows peaking. “You’ll alert…a-alert the guards.” You tighten around his cock in response and give an insolent, echoing whine of pleasure. Without another word Loki brings his hands together and peels one tight, leather glove in front of your face. You follow his movements as he plucks the tips of his fingers: one, by one, by one. “Don’t…fucking…stop,” he enunciates slowly – and a thrill of dangerous desire swells in your lower belly. His face is clouded with manufactured disdain as you moan again, squeezing around the fat, sensitive tip before sinking to the base with a rattle of his name.

It’s interrupted by Loki’s fingers flying to your jaw; stuffing the leather glove inside your open mouth. You choke on nothing, eyes wide and cunt throbbing.

“There. The perfect angle for me to fuck you full of myself: here where you belong…me on my throne, and you on yours.” Loki’s eyes blaze as his grip moves to your ass, pulling you flush to his chest; buried against your cleavage and thrusting so deep you think you might shatter. “When the king tells you to keep your voice down, he means it,” Loki whispers hot in your ear. He releases a disgustingly gravelled rasp of pleasure as his one gloveless hand tangles in your hair. It pulls gently while the other guides your hips: leather sticking to the sweat misting your skin.

A muffled moan of understand is all you can muster as Loki’s cock stretches you; his pubic hair tugging your clit; an orgasm so powerful welling between your thighs you could swear the throne was trembling. The leather stuffed between your lips tastes warm; oak-birch undertones of his natural scent making you dizzy. Even if you both screamed your orgasms to the old gods, the guards won’t come, they know better than that. And he knows it, too.

“Where better for my glorious wife to conceive a future king than on my throne,” Loki growls, his voice beginning to break as it comes undone. His mind, too. And as he does, unhinged and bucking everything he has inside your heat – so do you.

The glove isn’t enough to stifle the cry of his name in your throat - it never is.

-----

👑❤️x Tags in comments as per.

[ttsukiimi]

This is my first time requesting something but HEAR ME OUT, "Slow Cuddle-fucking with og Sukuna while he is holding (and caressing) Reader (His wife) tightly and praising her (with him having size(difference) and breeding kink) oneshot please please please PLEASESSS😭

୨୧⋆ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 ⎯ trueform!sukuna x reader, smut (mdni), unprotected sx, brèeding ķink, softdom!sukuna, established relationship, implied size difference,

୨୧⋆ 𝐚/𝐧 ⎯ ANONN?? THIS IS SO GOOD. I js fell to my knees in the middle of Walmart.

Sukuna was not a soft man—that was obvious. He was often rude, harsh, and did anything that would bring him even the slightest amusement, even if that caused someone else pain.

Well, that was expected for the king of curses.

But it seemed however harsh he was, you seemed to always shift his demeanor. Even know he’s frowning as you wrap your arms so sweetly around him, pushing your smaller form flush to his. Surely this would tarnish his reputation if he was caught like this, all soft, but he just couldn’t say no to you.

“‘Kuna,” you smile, a bit mischievously, pressing your ass against him. “I want you.”

And again, Sukuna Ryomen found himself unable to say no—unable to resist that addictive urge to fulfill every wish you bestow upon him.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth as he instantly bottomed out, pressing a peck to your neck. This was so unlike him.

His Four hands roamed your body, caressing every part with attentiveness and admiration. Hips ramming into you, cock kissing every sweet spot inside you, he found the slight bulge in your lower stomach where he could feel himself moving. And—god, Sukuna never wanted to stuff a baby into you more in his life.

His pace quickened, though he was still soft, and his arms wrapped around your body to take ahold of your tits, fondling with them. “You feel..good,” he sighed in your ear, his body shivering at the moans that slipped from your lips. “Want you to bear my child,”

The only things that went through his mind at that moment were the thoughts of stuffing his wife with his child, finally able to show off to other men how you’re already taken with how swelled your belly was.

You mewled and rocked your hips back on his, opening your legs wider to give him more access—you wanted that too.

There had always been a size difference between you two, with Sukuna being freakishly tall and all—but now was your chance to finally show that you could take it, no matter how huge your husband was.

“Stuff me, ‘kuna, give me your children,”