#supposed to be a bit overweight

[sinsmockingbird]

I've been seeing the edits of buff Feixiao, and I'm internally going savage while salivating. I love buff women. Plus, Fei is literally buff. Her one emote shows that. Fuck her character model (even though I'm trying to pull for her) and Hoyo for not having the balls to give characters melanin and different body types.

[ace-with--a-mace]

i have been watching american housewife

[vxsellie]

KINDLY, DARLIN' - 𝐸.𝑊

summary. after seemingly endless days on the road, you find yourself at a random country bar in the middle of nowhere. entering with the sole goal of getting your hands on come kind of alcohol, your attention is soon drawn elsewhere. to a girl and her guitar. notes. ok funny story! this idea came to me from a 5 sec interaction i had with a complete stranger. i went out to a bar, gave ten bucks to the singer, & he said the line that the title is based off of , which the prompted my brain to conjure up an entire love story (he's prob double my age lets be so fr) Also! idk if any of u will like this comparison (if not, just ignore this). but, as i wrote this, i imagined ellie's voice like lucy gray's from the hunger game's. like the slight country drawl, strong vocals, yes yes yes yes Also x2! anyone who follows me should know that im absolute SHITTT at writing smut. but, for some reason, that doesn't seem to stop me from creating works of garbage for my own amusement. anyway, if you reach the smut & realize that it's literal trash, i won't blame u for clicking off of this. just a warning! warnings. brief mention of creepy old men at the bar, depictions of alcohol, public flirting ???, eventual smut, drunk sex in a bathroom LMAO, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r!receiving) wc. 5.1k

𝓕uck your back hurts. Well, if you're being honest, everything hurts. Your neck, back, stomach, legs, hands. Everything that's capable of aching, does.

However, rather unfortunately, you suppose that's to be expected after driving for nigh two days straight in your shitty truck. It's a 90s pickup, the white paint peeling and the tires in desperate need of care. The beige seats are worn and stained, evidence of age having taken its toll on your poor vehicle.

In spite of your truck's needs, you're far more interested in your own ⎯ getting a damn drink.

You're currently coasting through the backroads of some small western town, streets made of dirt and buildings all decrepit. You've never heard of this place before, the name having already slipped your mind due to how utterly foreign it'd been to your mind.

Your headlights cast a yellow glow onto the dirt before you, your tires crunching against fallen leaves and loose rocks. You pass gas stations, wooden homes, dollar stores, an immeasurable amount of churches, and no liquor store. Most shop signs are staked into the dirt, the few billboards all dilapidated in some way ⎯ broken letters, flickering lights, or completely torn from the ground somehow.

Then, by either the grace of God or a wondrous turn of fate, your eyes stutter on a certain sign. A broken wooden one advertising a bar. Your interest is instantly piqued, wheel turning toward the building without hesitation.

You don't give yourself the chance to even think before you're hopping out of your truck and walking into the bar.

The moment you push open the wooden double doors, the sound of boisterous laughter and heavy cowboy boots meet your ears. Perfect.

You stand in place for a moment, craning your neck with narrowed eyes are you examine the atmosphere. To the left, there's a bar with almost every stool occupied by an overweight old man. To the right, there's a pair of barn doors with the word 'restrooms' carved into the wood. In the center of the space, there's bucking machine ⎯ a drunk teenage boy holding on for dear life while his group of friends cackle at him from the sidelines.

Then, on the side of the building opposite you, there's a small stage. It's only elevated a foot or so, wood rotting a bit on the edges. But you hardly care for the conditions of the stage itself. What you find yourself drawn to is the person on it.

In the center is a stool, an auburn haired woman perched atop it with an old guitar situated on her lap. She strums the instrument in an upbeat tempo, leaned forward slightly as she sings into the microphone before her. There's a small crowd in front of the stage, girls admiring and boys whistling.

Considering how run-down this town is, you hadn't expected to stumble across a bar that's so fucking packed. There's barely any open stools at the bar, the bathroom doors are rarely sitting still as people continue to pass through them, the mechanical bull being gifted coins non-stop. But you can't complain.

After so long alone on the road, it's nice to be in such an active atmosphere. It's not calming, of course, but you welcome it lovingly nonetheless.

Watching the auburn for a few moments longer, you then turn on your heel and saunter over to the bar. You're forced to sit beside someone as the lack of stools forbids you from not having a neighbor.

"What can I get'cha, hon'?" The bartender asks you with a tip of his cowboy hat. In his other hand, he wipes the outside of an octagonal glass cup.

"Got any whiskey?" You inquire, leaning your elbows on the sticky countertop.

"Mhm," He hums, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelves behind the bar. He sets the glass onto the counter with a light clink, popping the bottle open. "'N' how would ya like it?"

"Neat."

He nods once more, pouring the liquid into the glass with a flourish before sliding it across the wood toward you. The moment you grab it, he's turning away to tend to another patron. You drink it quickly, downing the glass in one large swig.

As you place the glass back onto the counter, you feel eyes boring into you. Hoping it's someone of interest to you, you turn only to find a duo of old men chuckling at you. Their cheeks are rosy, bellies full ⎯ therefore likely drunk. You roll your eyes as the bartender refills your glass without a word.

Now with an entirely new bit of determination, you down that glass even faster. Another refill. Another singular gulp. Another refill. Another gulp. Another. Another. Another.

You're now swaying a bit atop your stool, feeling pretty good all things considered. The men continue to gossip among themselves, pointing at your ass. You feel disgusted ⎯ not at yourself, but at them for their fucking audacity. Part of you wants to knock their teeth out. But you're not that drunk.

So, instead, you take the mature approach and simply pick up your glass and exit the scene. As you walk away, you hear their chuckles increase and you suddenly regret not punching them.

Your heavy boots thud against the wooden flooring as you walk aimlessly around the bar. You push through an amass of bodies, everyone too drunk to care for your harsh shoving. Then, before you know it, you find yourself situated in the very front of the stage, glass of whiskey in hand.

The woman's voice is laced with a slight country drawl, her boot tapping against the leg of her stool to count the beats of the song. She nods her head as she sings, a small grin lighting her features.

The dim lighting of the bar doesn't do her justice. But you still manage to notice the freckles that dot her face, the cupids bow to her upper lip, the small scar on her right eyebrow. Or maybe you're just drunk and enamored by her. God, what if she finds you creepy? What if she thinks you're some fucking creep? What if she⎯

She looks at you and you swear your heart gives out right then and there. And, if that weren't enough, she winks. You feel your cheeks heat up and you blame it on the alcohol. You down the rest of your whiskey, suddenly feeling very hot. A light chuckle shakes her chest, ringing throughout the space. Nobody else thinks anything of it, of course, all too drunk and preoccupied to give a shit. But you find yourself fantasizing about all the other ways you could make this woman laugh like that again. Oh fuck you are a creep.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the residual bits of dignity you have left, you pull twenty bucks from your back pocket and step forward to drop it into her open guitar case.

She raises a brow, tipping her cowgirl hat in your direction with a smirk. "Thank ya kindly, darlin'."

Somehow, she'd managed to thank you in tune with the song, keeping the beat going without missing a second. It's almost impressive. Okay, it's super impressive. In fact, you feel your heart speeding up again, mind playing on loop the sound of her addressing you. Her country drawl, her smirk, her long fingers grabbing the bridge of her hat. Fuck.

Impulsively, you end up turning on your heel and heading right back to that damn bar. The bartender just grins as he pours you another serving, likely having noticed the flush to your cheeks and the desperation of which you placed the glass down.

"Mind if I give y' some advice?" He asks, leaning forward a bit.

In an act of self pity, you don't have the energy to deny him. "Why the hell not?"

"I ain't gotta clue who you're blushin' over, but my advice is that." He nods toward something behind you. You cast a glance over your shoulder, eyes landing on the bucking machine. You almost laugh, turning back to him with an unimpressed expression. "Listen, y' ain't gotta be good. Y' jus' gotta move your hips right n' I swear he's all yours. Trust me. I've seen it work hundreds of times."

You don't dare to correct him on the gender of your current infatuation, instead deciding to take a few more drinks for a bit of liquid courage. I mean, seriously. How else will you get this woman's attention? Plus, what do you have to lose? You'll never see her again after tonight. The least you could do is try.

After another few drinks, you're staggering over to the mechanical bull with a few coins clutched tight in the palm of your hand. The wait for the stupid thing is way longer than necessary, everyone competing for the longest time lasted on the machine.

You lean your empty hand on the frame of the wooden fence that encircles the rider, watching with reddened eyes as yet another person is flung onto the ground with a heavy thud. He rubs his head with a groan, though his sounds of pain quickly fade into laughter as he brushes off his jeans and stands upright, returning to his boisterous friends with a crooked grin.

Unease begins to lick up your spine, the logical part of your brain wondering why the fuck you're doing this for some country chick you don't even know the name of. You're strong, sure, but your luck would lead you to breaking your neck.

You look over your shoulder casting a glance in the direction of the bar. The bartender gives you two thumbs up, flashing you a grin with missing teeth. As encouraging as that is, what really pushes you to continue is seeing those two old men. They're sitting side-by-side, lustrous smirks on their face as they stare at you, leaning over every few seconds to mutter something in the other's ear. Yeah. Fuck them. You're doing this.

As you make it to the front of the line, you're overcome with naught but confidence. Whether that be due to the sound of the woman's singing growing nearer or the sight of the gross old men, you don't know. Though, honestly, it's likely because of the sheer amount of whiskey you've downed in the past hour.

"Coins." The blonde woman demands, palm of her hand facing you like a bill you've been avoiding. You place the coins into her hand and she opens the gate, hinges squealing as the prior rider stumbles out with a streak of dirt under her eye.

You walk into the ring, feet staggering a bit already from your drunkenness. You hoist yourself onto the bull, situating yourself until you feel a bit less awkward atop the back of the metal animal.

It begins rocking slowly back and forth. You find it easy at first, not really needing to use your hands. You still do, though, not much trusting the machine to not throw you off the moment you let your guard down. It picks up the speed, more. More. More. More. And, before you know it, it's thrashing back and forth. You hold onto the saddle, a dazed smile spreading across your face as you find yourself having fun.

It spins in a circle, your eyes suddenly catching on the woman on stage. She has the perfect view of you from her pedestal, her stool bringing her higher than the crowd just as the bull brings you.

She's still singing into the mic, her voice drowned out by the sound of chatter and cheers ⎯ though you're not sure if they're directed toward you or her at this point.

You've stayed on longer than you anticipated, the ache in your back returning as the bull yanks and dives under you. But you hold on, suddenly remembering the bartender's advice. You don't want to switch up whatever tactic you accidentally built into habit, but the point of this is to get the woman's attention.

So you wait until it spins back around. Then, while her eyes are pinned to yours, you shift a bit, back moving more fluidly as you roll your hips against it. Nobody else would think anything of it, the act so subtle that you simply appear to have altered your position. But she noticed. You know she did. Because her voice caught in her throat, causing her to have to take a sip from her water and apologize into the mic before resuming.

Your confidence spikes at this, suddenly feeling much more egoistical than you did when she was a complete stranger you made eye contact with once. Now you know you have an effect on her.

So you do it again, maintaining eye contact as you roll your hips against the bull suggestively.

Just as before, nobody else pays any mind, far too focused on the fact that you're stayed on for so long to give a fuck about technique. Honestly, if anyone were to notice, it'd be those creepy old men. And, hopefully, they're aware that it's pointed at this woman and now them. Though you doubt they'd care. Creeps like them rarely do.

The singer, with her eyes now pinned to you ⎯ though, everyone's now are ⎯ switches her tone a bit. Her song alters from an upbeat bar tempo with little meaning to having more directed lyrics to a girl with mesmerizing eyes. Again, nobody else picks up on this. She sings about a random girl with stunning eyes, never digressing past that.

But you know; and she knows. And that's all that matters.

She sings a certain line, something more lustful about the way you look at her. Something suggestive about the way she's imagining you. You instantly falter, your grip slipping.

You fall to the ground with a thud, the entire bar making a sound of disappointment and empathy. You don't care, though, not giving a single damn about the bull riding. All you care for is that fucking singer.

You hit the ground, breath knocked from your lungs. You cough, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. Your head spins, the alcohol finally catching up to you. Another cough is yanked from your heaving chest as you groan.

The blonde coin-collecting woman allows the next person into the ring, not waiting for you to give your say. As the next man enters, he offers you his hand. You, desperate for assistance, take it with a grateful smile. He hauls you to your feet, muttering quick compliments on your performance on the bull. You thank him before brushing past him and exiting the ring with staggering steps.

A few people from the crowd compliment you, offering words of encouragement for the 'next time you go up'. You give them half-hearted smiles, chest still aching slightly from your fall.

You shove through the crowd, nearing the restrooms you'd seen at the entrance. You push the doors open and head into the women's side.

You brace your hands on the edge of the sink, glancing in the mirror for a brief moment ⎯ examining the small cut on your cheekbone and the bruises that are beginning to form on your shoulder and hip. You then lean down, positioning your mouth under the faucet before turning on the water. You drink it, relishing in the taste of cool liquid rather than burning alcohol.

"Mm, look who it is."

You smack your head on the faucet with how quickly you straighten. You groan, rubbing your temple as you turn to face the person standing behind you. The singer. Well fuck, that makes the head smack twenty times more embarrassing.

Somehow, she's even more alluring up close. Her pale green eyes bore into you, lashes lidding them slightly. Her skin is lightly tanned, freckles likely produced from a life spent under the sun. Her forearm has a tattoo covering the rippled skin there, lean muscles adorning the rest of said arm.

You play off your staring by narrowing your eyes at her, "Followin' me, are ya?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, stepping forward to wash her hands in the sink beside yours. She tips her head down, looking at her hands as she scrubs, hat coming to block her face from your view. Unfortunate. "Jus' comin' t' wash the filth off my hands. I wouldn't worry, though, darlin', I'm sure that Smilton boy'll check up on ya."

Your brows furrow at this. "Smillin boy?"

"Smilton." She corrects you rather harshly, looking up to meet your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "Farmer's boy. Rich. Brunette. Helped y' up after the bull."

Realization hits you like a brick. She's jealous. This woman that you've never met, this woman that you stressed over impressing, this woman that you bruised yourself to get the attention of. She's jealous because some farmer's boy helped you stand up. A smirk tugs at your lips, an idea lighting your mind.

"Hmm," You hum lowly, brushing past her to dry your hands on one of the scratchy white towelettes. "He is quite handsome, ain't he?"

"Suppose." She replies shortly.

Your smirk only deepens, drying your hands achingly slow. Because you know she's aware that she has no right to be jealous. And that only serves to make her more pissed off. How interesting.

"What's his first name, if y' don't mind me askin'?" You speak casually, talking with her as though everything that passed between you two prior to this hadn't happened at all. It's driving her insane and you can tell.

"I dunno." She says, turning the faucet off to dry her hands beside you. "Somethin' with a J?"

"Oh, c'mon," you coo, turning to her with those eyes you know she adores. "I know y' know more than jus' his last name."

She looks away, clearing her throat with a set jaw, "you're right. Know his first initial too. It's a J."

You chuckle lightly, releasing the towelette to trace your fingertips along the soft skin of her bicep. "Yeah? And what's your first initial?"

Her entire body seems to tense, breath hitching in reaction to your touch. She looks at you from under the bridge of her hat, green eyes glinting with something informal. Something unfit for a casual conversation between two strangers in the women's rest room. You feel your heart stutter at the sight, having to make an effort not to fall to your knees before her in this very moment.

"E," is all she whispers.

"Last name?" You whisper back, matching her for quietude.

"Williams." She manages.

You hum, eyes following the movements of your hand. Had you not been so drunk, you'd likely never have the balls to be so flirty to her. But, as it turns out, your intoxication is good for something. Well, something aside from staying on some metal bull.

"How pretty," you whisper, leaning forward so your mouth is now right beside her ear. Your breath fans across her skin as you continue. "Now tell me your full name, will ya?"

Her eyes are pinned to your face, pupils tracing your features as your hand traces her arm. She finds herself mesmerized by you, entranced by your every detail ⎯ the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the height of your cheekbones, the line of your jaw. She imagines running her tongue along each of these points, imagines committing your to memory using naught but her mouth.

"Ellie." She replies finally, watching closely as your eyes raise to meet hers. Her heart stutters in her chest at that, as it always does when you make eye contact.

Your gaze flicks between her eyes and lips, hand slowly inching up her arm. "Ellie?"

The sound of her name rolling off your tongue is enough to send a spark of heat to her core. That paired with the way your fingers are lightly tracing up, up, up. You move your hand over her shoulder, along her collarbone, up the side of her neck, and finally rests to cup her cheek in your palm. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering.

"You're such a fuckin' tease," she mutters, voice low as it's weighed down by desire and a deep need to feel your skin on hers.

You ignore her words and move to lean in close enough that your noses brush. Then, with your breath fanning across her skin, you ask, "this okay?"

She doesn't say anything, instead abandoning the towelette completely and grabbing your face in both her hands. With a sudden sense of ferocity, she presses her lips to yours, pulling your body flush against hers.

"I'll take that as a yes," you chuckle between kisses.

"Quiet," she murmurs, too needy for your touch to have time for conversation. As much as she loves hearing you talk, shed much rather talk via action rather than actual words.

You giggle against her lips, your arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She hums, hat falling to the tiled floor with a light brush. With each passing second, her actions become more and more desirous, suddenly pushing your back against the nearest wall. You let out a huff of air from the impact, your lips quirking up to form a small smile, regaled by Ellie's sudden desperation for you.

She tilts her head, peppering kisses down your chin and along your jaw. They're harsh and hungry, nipping your skin in some places purely to see your brow furrow at the feel of her teeth.

As she trails down to your neck, you tip your head back against the wall and open your eyes to blink up at the wooden ceiling. Your hands fist Ellie's hair as she leaves bruises down the column of your throat.

Still well and drunk, the room swirls around you. The lights seem to shift with each blink, making this all so much more intoxicating. Your nerves are already on edge due to the alcohol, so the feel of Ellie kissing them is absolutely maddening.

You feel as she presses kisses along your collarbone, tongue grazing the taut skin there. You shift, legs pressing together as she grows more sensual in her act of quick intimacy. This movement doesn't go unnoticed by her, however, her lips quirking into a small smile against your skin as she feels rather proud of how quick she's turned you to putty under her.

She moves across the bare skin of your chest, plump lips taking time to memorize each detail that adorns you. You move again, the heat between your legs growing harder to ignore.

"Patience, darlin'." She instructs. "I'll get there when I get there."

You frown at this, "well get there faster."

Her kisses suddenly cease, looking up at you through her lashes. She tilts her head at you innocently, blinking as she waits for you to correct yourself. To reword your restive demand. "Don't be rude, now."

You can feel your dignity push at the back of your throat, pride yearning for a moment to speak. Seeing as you're normally the one making orders, this feels quite stranger. But, after the long journey you've taken, you suppose you've earned a bit of time to sit back and let someone else take the lead.

Ellie draws a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, kneeling before you as her head comes to situate itself in front of your waistband. You can't help but admire how she looks from here, hair in your hands as her eyes are pinned to your denim jeans as though it's a buffet and she's a man starved. After a moment, she lifts her head to look at you.

Eye contact. Sparks shoot through your body. Somehow, something as simplistic as meeting Ellie's gaze can make you feel indescribably nervous. Pale green irises bore into you, waiting for you to utter words of consent. You do so, giving her the go-ahead.

As soon as you do, Ellie wastes no time hooking her fingers through your belt loops and pulling your jeans to your knees. She leans forward, eyes lidded.

"Wait." You pant, tugging on her hair to halt her movements. She seems rather annoyed by your sudden interruption, but looks up at you kindly despite her own irritation. You rolls your eyes at her evident pique. "What if someone walks in?"

She sighs heavily at that. "I locked the door."

"Oh, okay." You nod. Though, just as she's about to lean forward again, you stop her once more. "Wait. How did you know to lock it? You were all pissy when you first came in here."

"I didn't know." She explains hastily. "I simply hoped."

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head fondly at her admittance. Then, finally, you don't stop her when she leans forward.

She traces her tongue along the outside of your underwear, the fabric between you only adding to the pulsing in your pussy. A shiver wracks through you, causing Ellie to grab you by the hips to hold you still. She traces circles into your hips with her thumbs, a gentle motion when compared to the needy movements of her tongue as she draws small circles into your clit.

You tighten your grip on her hair, drawing a grunt from the back of her throat. The vibrations from her mouth against your pussy makes it hard to keep back your own noises.

When she finally shifts your panties to the side, you nearly collapse at the feel of her mouth against you. She licks a long stripe up your vulva, a shaky breath yanking from you. The sound only urges her further, taking one hand and drags her middle finger up your center. You shift, leaning heavily against the wooden walls as standing upright suddenly seems impossible. Then, without warning, two fingers shove right into your hole.

Your hips jolt, moving far more than initially seeing as Ellie is now only holding on with one hand. Whilst thrusting her fingers in and out of your needy pussy, her tongue circles your clit with that same neediness, mirroring you for desperation.

Your head falls back, thudding lightly against then wall. At the sound, Ellie ceases. You almost whine at her sudden stopping.

"My eyes are down here, darlin'." She says lowly. "Let me see you."

Begrudgingly, you oblige, lowering your head to make eye contact with Ellie. She's on her knees, legs folded against tiled flooring as she resumes her lapping. You huff out an airy moan as you have to actively stop yourself from tipping your head back again. She holds your gaze the entire time, adding to the intensity of the feel. Her eyes are lidded, shoulder moving as her fingers recommence.

This all paired with your dizzy head and swimming vision makes for quite the climax, core knotting progressively as Ellie doesn't dare to stop. "Fuck," you pant as you buck your hips against her face, forced to watch as you do so. With another heavy breath and an arching back, you utter, "I'm⎯"

She seems exponentially proud as she hears you say this, regardless of if you finish your sentence or not. She pauses only for a moment to say, "yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, though it comes out more of a moan than anything.

"Do it, darlin'."

And you do, coming undone right atop her face. She, admittedly, relishes in it, hydrated only by what you're able to provide her with. You see stars and they're swimming too, circling your head in a celestial body of pleasure. And Ellie watches, for once allowing your head to fall back as she deems this a one time exception. Because there will be a next time.

You're panting as you lower your head to face her once more, her gaze never having left your expression. She makes out with your pussy sensually as to bring you down from your high. Then, as gently as she can, she situates your panties back on correctly and pulls your jeans to rest as your hips, remaining knelt in front of you as she zips and buttons them just as she'd found them.

You watch with a twinkle of fondness behind your irises, unable to look away from the expression of adoring concentration she wears. She then uses your hips as a support system to haul herself back to her feet, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. You can nigh taste yourself on her.

"Not bad for a stranger at a sketchy bar." You muse, picking her hat from the floor and situating it atop her auburn tufts of hair. She watches you, analyzing your every move.

"I'm not just a stranger." She reminds you as your eyes find hers, your hands coming to drape around her shoulders. "I'm a stranger who wrote a song about you."

"Mm," you hum, "so you're a stalkers stranger?"

"I prefer the term passionate." She says, shooting you a playful scowl.

You chuckle, "passionate for what? Stalking and preying on drunken women?"

"Pfft-" She scoffs. "You're not drunk."

For a moment, you consider agreeing with her. To save her the pain of realizing you hadn't been sober for this. But you know better than to lie to her. So, through lidded eyes ⎯ ones that should have been a rather telltale sign of your intoxication ⎯ you give her a look, not even needing to voice the truth aloud for her to understand.

"Well fuck." She groans, taking a step backward and causing your arms to fall to your sides.

Frankly, you'd expected her to be much more angered than that. Because you know you would be. After writing a song, chasing down, then tongue-fucking someone in the bathroom, the worst news to receive would be that they'd been wasted the entire time.

"I'm sorry," you're quick to apologize, for some reason feeling the need to earn her forgiveness.

"How're you planning to get home?" She asks.

"I hadn't thought about that." You admit.

"How about this," she suggests, "I give you a place to stay to apologize for fucking you while drunk and you let me take you to dinner tomorrow to apologize for not telling me beforehand. Deal?"

A smirk works its way to your mouth, "deal."

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[wonuuism]

puppy love - 심재윤

in which jake makes the most if his (expensive) visit to the vet.

tags: fluff, vet!reader, layla’s not overweight irl but for the sake of the plot let’s say she’s been eating a little too well;;

author’s note: idk i wrote this in like an hour bc of a sudden burst of motivation. no proofreading bc it’s 3am LOL. first fic woo!! enjoy!!!

—

jake’s worried. panicking, even.

layla’s laying down next to him in the back of the taxi, her eyes shifting around nervously. jake’s leg is bouncing up and down as anxiety courses through his veins. layla had slipped and fallen down the stairs while he was home and her sharp whining whenever she walked afterwards made him uneasy. so, he was quick to call up the nearest vet clinic and book the soonest appointment for a consultation.

he’s really, really worried though. layla’s never had any bad scares like this one, so he’s not sure what to expect. what if it’s worse than he thinks? what if they tell him layla’s broken a bone? what if layla has to go through surgery? oh god - jake thinks he might throw up.

he’s interrupted from his thoughts as the taxi driver stops the car and announces they’ve arrived. thanking the driver, jake exits the car and gulps nervously as he surveys the exterior of the clinic. it feels ominous.

a bell rings as he pushes open the door, and the girl at the front desk looks up from the computer screen. “welcome in! how may i help you?”

“uh… i have an appointment at 11:30. for layla.” jake responds.

“awesome, i see you in our calendar. please hold tight while i let the vet know you’re here.” she smiles kindly, but it does little to ease jake’s nerves. still, he manages a tight-lipped smile and curt nod in response.

—

jake watches as someone emerge from the back, looking at a clipboard in their hands. “layla?”

he stands up right away, prompting layla who had been laying by his feet to do the same. “yes, that’s us.”

you look up at the source of the voice and send him a pleasant smile. walking towards him, you reach out your hand and he shakes it, but not before quickly swiping his palm on his jeans. “nice to meet you. i’m dr. l/n, and i’ll be taking a look at layla today. how about we head inside so i can take a better look at her?”

jake nods earnestly and gently tugs on layla’s leash to have her follow him into the consultation room in the back. once inside, you ask if he could kindly place layla on the table - a request he readily complies to. you’re impressed at how little he struggled given the fact that layla is a fairly big dog. clearly, he was strong. and maybe kind of cute, too.

“so,” you begin, “what seems to be the issue?”

“she had a bit of a bad fall and she’s been limping and whining a lot since then… i’m worried she might’ve broken a bone or something like that?” jake explains as he runs his hand comfortingly through layla’s fur.

you nod as he speaks, reaching over to assess any damage. after checking her heartbeat with your stethoscope, you flex her hips, gently press on her legs, and check on her paws.

as you do so, layla’s continuously making noises of discontent. initially, you had believed that her right front leg was causing her discomfort since she’d barked sharply when you touched it. however, she’d done the same thing for every other limb you’d touched as well. smiling, you turn your attention to her owner.

“i don’t see anything wrong with layla. her legs are fine, i’d say the shock of the fall is probably what made her respond like that. us people tend to coddle our pets a lot when they get injured, and dogs especially like that attention so they exaggerate it to make it seem worse than it is.”

jake is dumbfounded. “so you’re saying layla was just being dramatic?”

you smile apologetically. “yes… i know it’s not the news you were expecting, but that’s a good thing! means she’s not injured.”

you’re right, jake supposes. but that means i brought her all the way here because she’s a drama queen?!

you note the way jake sighs heavily, and it makes you want to try and console him by making his trip to the clinic seem somewhat worthwhile with basic medical advice.

“however, i would recommend putting her on a bit of a diet. she seems to be just a little bit over the ideal weight, and that can cause unnecessary strain on her joints.” you explain and jake nods, hanging on to every word coming out of your mouth. “after all, we want layla to live a long and healthy life, don’t we?” you coo, reaching out to ruffle her neck.

jake smiles. cute.

wait, what?

he takes this chance to finally look at you. he’d been too occupied previously with worry that he hadn’t been able to actually register what you looked like. now, he can see that you are, in fact, cute. you look around his age, and he’s impressed that you’re a vet this young. you suit the scrubs, but he wonders what you’d wear outside of work.

you pull away from layla and jake snaps back to reality. he’s glad layla’s okay. still, he sternly faces her and points his index finger toward her snout. “alright missy, you’re going on a diet starting today. consider it punishment for scaring me like that.”

chuckling, you turn to face him and he mirrors your action. there’s not much left to say, so he thanks you quickly and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. you stay since you have to log layla’s information in your computer. as you’re wrapping up, you add one more thing in layla’s “additional information” section.

additional information: super cute, looks exactly like owner

—

jake silently mourns on his way back home. again, he’s glad layla’s okay. he really is. but he had to pay an extraordinarily large amount of money just to be told that she’s fine. and a little fat.

he glares at layla, who looks back at him with sparkling eyes. his heart melts at the sight, and he sighs as he pets her. jake thinks of you and the fondness in your eyes as you petted the same fur moments prior. maybe something good did come out of his visit to the vet.

suddenly, he gets an idea. he paid a lot of money for this consultation, so he could be a little greedy. as a client, he could ask for your number, right? after all, what if something truly serious happened next time? he’d rather skip the formality of booking an appointment through the website and speak directly with you instead.

so, he pulls up the clinic’s information and calls the number on their website. a girl — likely the same one who welcomed him in — answers and asks what she could do for him.

“hey, i was just at the clinic for an appointment with my dog layla. i hope this doesn’t sound weird, but do you think it would be possible to get the number of the vet who saw layla today? just in case anything happens to layla again. you know?”

jake physically cringes as he speaks. way to not sound weird.

“uhm… one moment please.” the girl responds. jake hears whispering on the other side of the call.

what he didn’t know was that you were right next to the girl on call, sorting through some paperwork before you saw your next patient.

“doctor! layla’s owner is calling and asking if he can get your number..?” your secretary whispers.

you whip your head towards her, not believing what you heard. layla’s owner? the cute, fluffy hair guy?

she looks as giddy as you feel, giggling as she raises her eyebrows suggestively. laughing at her, you give her a thumbs up and she’s quick to bring the phone to her ear again.

“hello? yes, the doctor said there’s no problem. do you have something to write with? okay. her number is…”

you smile to yourself as she recites your personal number. a bell rings throughout the clinic, notifying you of your next patient’s arrival. you greet them and lead them to your consultation room and as you close the door your phone buzzes.

unknown number: hi, this is jake. layla’s dad. thanks again for the help today. if you don’t mind, i’d like to take you out sometime?

you bite your lip to suppress your grin. quickly, you reply.

you: i’d love that. date and time?

[lawofangie]

Girl how did you manifest weight loss? Do you have any tips or something?

to manifest losing weight, i assumed i was losing weight quickly and that i had a really fast metabolism.

before that, i had a very slow metabolism. i also had the body/body shape of a person with a slow metabolism, very curvy and bottom heavy (because of genetics too obviously). i hated it, i wanted to get rid of it so badly. i hated not being able to wear what i wanted because it was too "vulgar", i hated being approached by the guys i attracted, and i hated being overweight.

exercising and tracking meals helped, but i lost weight very slowly (hence the slow metabolism). fasting didn't help much at all, the fat on my body just seemed like it was being stubborn.

eventually i got sick of it and decided to manifest having a very fast metabolism and assumed i lose weight at a rapid rate. it was really that simple, but having a fast metabolism was more work than i thought it would be, i ate a lot and i was always super hungry.. there were some obvious downsides other than constant hunger that are a bit of a tmi (lol), but i eventually got rid of it and decided i just don't gain weight.

i guess a tip would be to assume you lose weight gradually? idk that's what i did, it just felt weird to me assuming that i'd lose 30-40 pounds overnight. it took me 2 weeks to a month to lose the weight (i don't remember). it felt "realistic" and natural enough for me to be comfortable manifesting it.

you're supposed to do whatever/ manifest whatever feels comfortable for you, not what you think you should want or what you think you should do.

[rafechubbygf]

rafe cameron x plus size!baddie!chubby!reader

you were the baddie one, but surely, the revenge one. you were the most praised kook ever, because of your daddy’s money. nobody made the most unforgettable, dirtiest, and craziest parties, weirdest as project x ones than you. at first, you were mocked and humiliated, always the center of attention but not for the right reasons and now, you were putting the bullies at your own feet, and you were surely making them hard in your expensive clothes that exposed your curves. some kooks denied the attraction they had for you, others only lived for that.

one day, you were sunbathing on your pool chair, an iced cocktail in your hands, sunglasses on your eyes, luxury hat on your head with a pretty black elbow, the life of a girl who was rich and who had the possibility to use her time as she wanted. you thought you were alone, you wanted to be alone, but someone had burst in front of you.

you knew this face. who didn't know him? it was rafe cameron. the one and only son of ward cameron. one of your father's very close friends.

without shame, he stared at your nice huge boobs which overflowed from your tiny bikini, looking down at your chubby belly. there was no disgust in his eyes. you could even tell he loved it, because he discreetly bit his bottom lip.

“ do you want me to help you daydream about my tits by taking off my top? “

“ so confident about your body. “

“ yes, i love making boys shy. “

he cleared his throat, looking up without being embarrassed.

“ i can bet you’ve never seen one this big.”

“ because you're so aware about my sex routine, yea ? “

“ i know, i'm right. anyway, tell me why are you here, country boy ?”

“ i want to sell drugs at your parties by now. you have all kooks in your house, let me help you make bigger parties. it's a win for the two of us.”

“ i don't need an acolyte. but thanks, sweet proposal, cameron.“

“ but you need a big man. “

you took off your sunglasses.

"you're wrong if you think i need a man. boys like you always humiliated me, thinking i wasn't pretty enough to be respected. so why would i do that for you? what if i say no, rafe ?”

“ absolutly nothing, sweetheart because i will take this for a yes. “

“ do you think i'm scared of you, do you think i can't stand up against you ? “

“ such a big girl, it's supposed to impress me ? do better and harder, you want to show off ? then, perform. “

you rolled your eyes, annoyed by his attitude, while crossing your arms, pressing them against your boobs.

“ also, you're wrong. “

“ about what ? “

“ i like chubby girls. “

“ you're not good at making jokes, rafe cameron. and you just love the curvy sexy side. not the overweight one. “

“ again, you're fucking wrong. “

his look had changed, and his voice tone had become firmer. he was serious. you were starting to doubt.

you always saw boys looking at other girls that you also found pretty, but the way men looked at you made you feel terribly self-conscious before. now you felt better in your body.

“bunny, i can swear i love that plump belly and those fat thighs, and i can go to hell for them.”

“ bunny ? “

“ yes, and trust me, i will make you bounce like them, sweetheart. “

“ what do you mean ? you’re not disgusted by my body?”

“the way your body turns me on, you have no idea, i’m so hard right now. be confident, because my cock is really going to fuck you like you are the most beautiful girl on this earth.”

and then, rafe fucking cameron kneeled at your feet, his hands on your waist, pressing with his fingers your tubby curvy waist, while he kissed your chubby tummy, putting soft kissies on your skin. you can felt the tenderness and warmth covering your pretty belly.

" don't try to fool me, country boy. don't be gentle, when you want nothing that being rough and make me cry.”

“i think your pussy is already crying” he had looking at your dripping fanny and pressed his nose into the fold.

with his fingers, he traced the shape of your fat cunt, pressing on both swollen parts, his thumb against your clit.

“ you're so hot. “

“ and you're so damn hard. “

he pulled your string bikini down to your feet, and you lay down on the pool chair.

"open those legs wide. bunny. i said wider. “

you pushed them aside, revealing your wet pussy. he slipped between your legs, pinning them under his biceps.

“ do you think you can make me cum ? “

“ i will do better than that. what about multiple orgasms, needy girl ? “

he spat on his fingers, before starting to fingering you. you could tell he was good, and it wasn’t the first time he’d done it. his movements were fast, all of your wetness stuck to his fingers as he moved hard into your walls, stretching them. he made your chubby legs tremble on his arms, and your cries became more and more desperate.

"acting like a big girl and now crying like a child, such a pathetic slut."

you didn't respond, your eyes rolling all over the place, while you felt your hole open and clench on his fingers.

he was amused by your noises.

"having fun? you wanted to cry so much? keep dropping those tears, ruin your own dollface, crybaby.”

you were so turned on, your hole was dilated, completely open and his tongue had started to play with your clit, a trickle of saliva slipping to his glistening lips from your arousal fluids at your little button. he had licked it, sucking the pearl harder.

your walls were wrapped around his fingers, the sound steamy and hot of him thrusting inside. you were just a whining mess.

"rafe!...rafe...more!" you cried out.

he moved his digits in and out, you could see his lustrous tongue tucked in your clit, his nose against your pubic. his fingers went deep, covered by your wetness. he had speeded, and started to wreck your count with his big fingers.

“ save your tears, chubby bun, it's the beginning. you think my fingers are big ? fear better of my cock. “

he took off his shorts, tossing it to the side. he was painfully hard. your slobbering lips opened,

he had kissed you, crushing his muscular body against your larger one. you could feel his abs against your belly.

he was an aggressive kisser, kissing your lips violently, possessively.

“ don't kiss me like we are something. “

“ then don't get your pussy soaked like you wanted this more than me. enough talking. “

he made you close your mouth with his tongue, his saliva sliding into yours. you wanted it and you couldn’t deny it anymore. and he understood that.

he had positioned himself between your legs, pressing your thighs against his waist before pushing his cock into your pussy. he gave the first hard thrust, letting out a grunt as he felt how tight and wet you were. you could feel him inside you. his cock was hard to take, but you wanted to make him proud.

your mouth curved into a perfect circle-form, drool falling from your swollen lips. he had started to fuck you deeply, you could feel his hips slapping against your ass, his big balls hitting your thick body. they were full.

you were beautiful, a goddamn plus size hottie kook girl. and you made his heavy fat dick getting monstruous inside you, everytime his tip bumped into your spot. the way your ass jiggles as his deep thrusting, the way all your curves swing harder.

your vision was blurry, because he was fucking you too good. he was sweating. as he filled you, pushing his cock loudly and pounding into your inners so hard that you always ended up letting out a desperate cry. he also touched your curves, tracing their shapes with his fingers, emphasizing how perfect he found them. he also said that from now on, it was his.

"this body belongs to me. and you should really be careful not to forget it, you don't want this to end badly right, bunny?”

your pussy gripped him tighter and tighter, while you held your tits in your hands.

you turned your head quickly to say no. you didn’t want this to end badly but he had grabbed your jaw, gripping it tightly in his hand, forcing your mouth to open and curve, a trickle of saliva slipping from your lip.

“i want a clear answer. i want to hear yes.”

the pleasure was intense, your sensations amplified, the desire became more and more terrible.

your slopping pussy was leaking, and hungry. you could feel every inch of his hard cock, especially when he pushed all the way in.

“ i want to cum…let me cum ! “

“ beg for it and i will see. “

he wanted to continue his thrusts in your pussy. he loved seeing you cry. his sweat ran down his face, a drop glistening on the tip of his nose. his hair was messy, and stuck to his forehead.

“ please…! please…! i'm begging you ! i really need to cum…daddy ?” you tried.

and he had exploded in your walls at the mention of "daddy", making your squirts around his fat dick. your cunt was creamy, mixed with his cum dripping from your slit.

“ what was that ? “

“ what…” you played dumb. “ you mean the daddy thing ? “

“ call me that again and i make your pretty chubby tummy bigger by putting babies inside. “

“ i think you want a next round. “

“ you're right. time to make you pregnant.”

[ros3ybabes]

Fall 24' Workout Split 🎀

So my friend and I got a gym membership together BUT have been overworked by our jobs and are tired pretty often, so I've created a workout split (for myself) that takes into account what days her and I are going to the gym and then some at home workouts! The days her and I are supposed to go to the gym, IF we don't, there's a fitness center at my apartment that would be perfect to utilize as a backup!

A bit about my fitness/aesthetic goals ( I will be discussing body image, so please DON'T READ if that info would hurt or upset you at all <3 take care of yourselves)

I want a mix of a pilates princess/muscle mommy physique. I'd love full, round glutes and juicy quads and hamstrings, but a slimmer, more lean, and toned top and arms. I am currently overweight (honestly, obese, if I'm being truthful with myself. I'm 5'3, btw) with a large chest and thick ish upper arms. I want to lose weight, tone up, and grow my glutes. Definitely doable with some nutrition fixes and work in the gym!

My Weekly Workout Split:

Monday - Gym - Glutes + Hamstrings

Tuesday - At Home - Full Body Pilates

Wednesday - Gym - Glutes + Quads

Thursday - At Home - Arms + Core Pilates

Friday - Gym - Full Lower Body Glutes

Saturday - At Home Yoga + Cardio

Sunday - At Home Yoga (Optional Cardio)

Daily Things:

8,ooo+ steps a day

5mg creatine daily

track macros (90g+ protein goal daily)

90oz+ water intake daily!!! (super important for the creatine)

(attempt) 15-30+ minutes of walking outside or treadmill a day

I am so excited for this split and really hope it helps me set a nice routine! I've found it difficult to get into routine lately, but I am confident I can figure it out soon. Journaling, skincare, self care, and physical movement are all things I'm incorporating back into my life, and I can't wait to feel like myself again! <3

til next time lovelies 🩷

[alphajocklover]

I'm a cosplayer, as you can see on my profile picture. It's a mix-match of everything I like from the wolf-bone mask, the balaclava, and the snazzy blazer and slacks with gold pins. Added latex gloves to really feel eldritch for Halloween.

But of course, under that blazer still needs a layer of fabric to absorb my sweat, so I got this tank top from a nearby bundle I wear.

I'd like to know what tricks you can put up my sleeves.

You were never one to pat yourself on the back, but you couldn't help yourself. This had to be your best cosplay yet! You didn’t have a specific character in mind like for some of your past cosplays, but you were loving how this one was turning out. You had known this was going to be a great cosplay since the moment you saw that wolf bone mask in that store, and you were right. After all your work, all you needed was one last thing: a tank top.

You were honestly a little embarrassed you hadn’t thought of it earlier. As an experienced cosplayer, you probably should have guessed that the heavy blazer would need something under it to absorb sweat, but it hadn’t crossed your mind until you had tried on the costume the day before you were supposed to show it off at the convention! Now you were scrambling to find a well fitting, absorbent tank top that wouldn’t make the sweating worse. That wouldn’t be so hard… if you hadn’t had this realization around one in the morning, when most shops were closed. You had been in a bit of a panic at first, but in a stroke of luck you had found a small second hand clothing store nearby. You were a bit surprised at first, since you thought you knew most of the thrift stores in the area, but you were too relieved to properly question it. You grabbed the tank top, a classic white wife beater, and went into the changing room.

You did you best to ignore the mirror in the room as you stripped off your regular shirt. You never talked about it, but you were fairly insecure about your body. There wasn’t anything wrong with your body. You weren’t overweight or even particularly scrawny, you were just… average. But whenever you looked at yourself in the mirror all you could focus on is what you weren’t. You looked at your body and saw a body that was too small, too lithe, too awkward and just… not enough, in any way. That was one of the reasons you never cosplayed athletic characters. You always worried people would make the comparison. You pushed these thoughts to the back of your head as you slid on the wifebeater. The second it settled on your body, you felt like everything changed.

You stared at yourself in the mirror in shock as muscles began to pack onto your body. Your shoulders widened, giving your body a manly v shape as your pecs shoved out into a beefy shelf. You felt your stomach cramp as abs popped into existence, and almost drooled as your biceps grew absolutely huge, flexing them experimentally as you felt a smattering of hair grow across your body and on your face. You couldn’t believe it. It was like your body had been completely inverted. Everything you used to hate about yourself was gone, replaced by pure masculine sexiness. You even felt your mind change, memories of sports and confidence mixing in with those of cosplaying and creativity. You were still you, just… idealized. You were perfect, absolutely perfect. You swaggered out of the changing room, paying for the wife beater with a generous tip and a flirty wink, before heading out to the gym. You had to see how well this thing absorbed sweat, and how hot your muscles looked with a nice pump.

The bad news is that you’re going to have to make some emergency alterations to your cosplay so that it will fit your new, beefy body. The good news is that you're so hot that you could wear anything and still look good. Maybe you’ll just go to the party shirtless. It’d definitely be a good way to pick up chicks!

[sunonwaxyleaves]

After hanging out with Sirius’ little brother for a few months now - sometimes the three of them but more and more just the two of them - James first realizes he’s in love with Regulus on a summer night with cheeks warm from sunburn and sweet red wine. They’re on an old leather couch at a party Sirius is throwing at the Potter’s beach house, and Regulus rests his head on James’ shoulder with a deep, heavy sigh. Absolutely plastered, he mutters in defeat, “I think I’m now ready to admit that I’ve probably missed my chance at becoming a mermaid.” James wants to laugh until his stomach cramps, wants to kiss him on his peeling lips and point out that Regulus turns 21 in just one week, what does he mean he’s willing to admit this now, but instead he shrugs lightly and rests his head on Regulus’. He says in that cocky voice of his that makes far too many people swoon, “You’d be the prettiest mermaid of them all” and Regulus would roll his eyes even though James couldn’t see, he’d bury his head further into James’ neck, and tell him “Yeah, James, obviously”.

And then a week would pass, the morning of Regulus’ 21st birthday, and he’d wake up before anyone else and sneak out of the house for his morning run. Sometimes on the really hot days, like the day of his 21st birthday, he’d cool off in the ocean before walking back to the house, the walk long enough to let the sun dry him a bit.

Except this time was different.

Regulus runs and jumps into the ocean, does a few slow strokes atop the rolling waves, then promptly begins to scream bloody murder in the blink of an eye; his legs have become so heavy it’s as if an overweight adult man is clinging to him. He twists and turns his body, lifts his cement legs up to see what the fuck is going on, freezes, starts drowning, then screams even as his mouth fills with saltwater.

Where his legs are supposed to be - where they used to be - there is now a beautiful emerald mermaid tail with scales that glitter tiny rainbows like the polish on his finger nails.

A mile away, the split second Regulus screams the first time, James wakes from a deep slumber with a gasp so sharp it throws him into a coughing fit. He drinks from the glass of water on his bedside table and grabs his phone before leaning back onto the fluffy pillows, pulling up his messages to text the birthday boy.

(7:02am) Happy birthday Reggie!!!! 21 WOOHOO!!!!!

(7:03am) Are u back from ur run?? Do u want blueberry or chocolate chip pancakes?

(7:04am) Had the craziest dream last night. Need to tell u all about it over some Potter Pancakes(;

(7:26am) Reggie??

(7:38am) Sirius said u never came back from ur run is everything okay???

(7:41am) Ur freaking me out Reg can u pls respond

(7:55am) Wherever u are: STAY THERE

(7:55am) I’m coming to find u. Call me when u see these, pls pls please

(8:06am) Where the fuck are you, Regulus?????

[girl-failure]

Transwoman needs answers

this isnt an easy post to write and it's going to be full of info about me that's personal and embarassing but I am desperate for answers and assitance so please bear with me. Long story short, im almost 3 years hrt (may 19th will be exact) and it's like nothing has changed. More info under the cut.

I'm going to try and explain everything to the best of my memory, but exact dosages and stuff might be fuzzy and inexact. I began HRT on May 19th 2021, when I was 22. I took one and a half 2mg pills, twice (morning and night) daily. I took them sublingually. I was also prescribed Spironolactone, though the exact dose escapes me (i remember it was 1 pill nightly). I had only come out as trans in the December the previous year, so i considered myself unfathomably lucky to get to start so soon. I had done this through informed consent at a planned parenthood and was excited by the possibility of a future where my own body didn't make me want to die. The idea of changing my body gave me a feeling of control in my life that had been entirely absent until that point. I knew I wanted all the help I could get with breast development (the women in my immediate family are well endowed) and I had read & heard from other trans women that prog could help, but I'd have to wait to ask for it.

I think it was on December 15, 2021, I was officially prescribed 100 progesterone nightly. At this point I had began to notice softer skin, lighter hair, the few bits of acne left over from high school had gone entirely, and the inklings of breasts beginning to form. My libido had all but dissipated entirely at that point, but I was told (mostly by other trans women) it would come back, especially after starting prog, and that my body would likely experience pleasure differently, and that my orgasm would be very different. The fat from my stomach (i wasn't overweight or underweight, i was pretty average for a man my height, but I did have a masculine stomach I despised) hadn't relocated at all, but I knew HRT wasn't a sprint, but a marathon, and I had a long way to go. This continued for a long time, eventually i would be bumped up to two 2mg of E (sublingual pill) twice daily (8mg total), and my Spiro would change to 200mg a day EDIT: My Spiro dosages did fluctuate, though again I don't recall the exact dosages, (I initially got it confused with my prog dosage, sorry), though there was the occasional few week period where I'd be bumped back down to one and a half E pills because I had timed my blood-work poorly. It had been a while since starting HRT and I was starting to worry. My libido never came back, I was unable to feel the sensation of pleasure entirely, my breasts & nipples never became sensitive or had growth pains, and my breasts really hadn't grown at all. My stomach still made me feel awful and masculine because fat continued to pile up there instead of in the feminine places I was told and led to believe it should!!! I was scared and frightened and upset. I'd say I developed an eating disorder but my eating was already disordered. I was afraid of food. Afraid it'd just make me look manly, instead of going to my hips/waist/whatever and breasts like it was supposed to. I began to feel like the hrt that was supposed to save my life was just making me feel worse.

On October 23rd, 2023, I finally started seeing a doctor again after 9 years of not being able to afford it, and only then because a parent got insurance through their work. I was officially prescribed Estradiol Valerate (.3mL intramuscular, and the bottle itself is 20mg/mL) , and quit Spiro outright. Now that I was talking to a doc, especially one who had been working with trans people in my area for years, I was starting to have hope again that maybe injections would solve my problems. After all, they're supposed to be more powerful right? Well after some blood-work revealing that my T levels were so low they were undetectable, we started fiddling with my injection dosages. I went down to .25mL. Nothing changed. I went down to .2ml. Nothing changed. I stayed at .2mL and was prescribed a med called EstraTest (.625mg E and 1.25mg T), a single pill which has both E and T in it, to try and raise my T levels back to measurable levels and hopefully find that golden ratio of E and T where maybe my body will start working again and start changing. But that brings us today. I still don't feel any sensation of pleasure (masturbating is pointless, intimacy just feels like I'm disappointing my partner), let alone a female orgasm (which as embarrassing as it is to admit, I was really looking forward to), my nipples still don't get sensitive and my chest doesn't get sore or get growing pains. My breasts look the same way they did 4 months into hrt. I've still had practically no fat redistribution, though I've gotten better about eating and not being afraid of food. I'm even beginning to notice my acne slowing starting to come back. I feel like I'm losing my mind. Why has nothing worked? Why does it feel like I'm regressing? I lost my health insurance earlier this week, and I can't afford to see my doctor again with my dumb pizza delivery job, so I haven't been able to ask to try anything more drastic to try and fix these issues. My current theories are that maybe my body is just more resistant to E? Which would be awful, but might be handled by just tripling my dose or something? Or

that my receptors are fried, and that the only solution would be to stop taking my HRT for a while (maybe even a long while). I pray that isn't the case, because I'd sooner off myself then let my body regress any further.

So this is a call for help. If anyone has any idea what could be causing these problems for me, or knows how I might be able to fix them, PLEASE let me know. I've lost hope in having a future as a woman, or even just feeling apathy towards my body (instead of intense self-loathing) at this point.

Here's my ca$happ if anyone wants to throw some money my way and maybe I'll be able to see the doctor again. cash.app/$occultChloe

[juju-or-anya]

A character I deeply hate in *Game of Thrones* and *A Song of Ice and Fire* isn’t Daenerys, nor Cersei, nor even Sansa (and that’s saying something, as she annoys me quite a bit). No, the character I truly despise is Robert Baratheon.

Robert embodies all the traits that make me think: "I hate men" or "Men disgust me." His entire personality revolves around being a womaniser, a drunk, an overweight man obsessed with the ghost of a dead woman. Lyanna Stark has been in her grave for nearly twenty years, and she still can’t rest in peace because of his sick fixation.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. While Robert wasn’t the mastermind of the Rebellion, he was certainly the one who fuelled it. He didn’t do it for the good of the realm or out of any sense of justice; he did it because he couldn’t accept that maybe Lyanna didn’t want to marry him. She preferred to be another man’s lover rather than his wife, and instead of accepting that, he unleashed a war. Lyanna, though raised as a noble lady of the North, had a will of iron and wouldn’t have allowed herself to be kidnapped without a fight (not that she really had a chance to avoid it—after all, she was a fifteen or sixteen-year-old girl facing Rhaegar, a twenty-four-year-old trained warrior—but I think you get my point).

And let’s not even talk about his reaction to the murder and rape of Elia Martell and her children. Robert laughed cruelly when he heard that innocent children, some barely toddlers, had been brutally killed and celebrated that a helpless woman had been raped and murdered. He was happy about it.

Of course, I’m not idealising characters like Lyanna, Elia, or Rhaegar. We can’t sanctify or demonise them because we don’t truly know them. Everything we know about them is filtered through the perspectives of others, some positive, some negative. They’re “told” characters, like Lily and James Potter in Harry Potter, whose backstories depend entirely on others’ memories. But who do we actually know enough about? Robert Baratheon. We know he’s the kind of man who would order the murder of a pregnant girl across the sea—a girl who’d already lost her family and home because of his rebellion. Robert did all this, not because Aerys was a tyrant, but because he was obsessed with the memory of a woman who never loved him.

As for his supposed "love" for Lyanna, he never showed any intention of respecting her, being faithful to her, or actually loving her. He was only in love with the idea of having a beautiful, strong, wild wife he could mould and subdue to his will. Before he was even engaged to Lyanna, he’d already fathered a bastard daughter; and only a few weeks after her death, he had Gendry. So much for his “great” love for Lyanna—he was already fathering children with other women within weeks.

What’s worse is that half the story seems determined to paint him as "the good guy." Give me a break. The realm didn’t entirely collapse during his reign only because of Tywin Lannister’s ambition and the competence of the royal council, who worked tirelessly to maintain stability. None of this was thanks to Robert Baratheon, who barely managed his responsibilities while the realm barely kept itself afloat despite him.

For all these reasons and more, I deeply hate Robert Baratheon.

Edit: I'll stand corrected, because a comment corrected me and they's right. The real hero who kept King Landing stable enough for there to still be a King Landing was Jon Arryn, that man deserved a raise and the biggest statue in the world, as well as putting up with his idiot king.

Edit 2: Re-reading my post, I realized that I made a somewhat fatphobic comment when I talked about Robert's physique and if anyone feels hurt, I truly apologize. I will not delete it, because it will be evident and give me a reason to improve, we are in constant deconstruction and I do not want to delete something bad that I could have said and pretend it never happened, how will I learn if I do that?

[tteessiiee]

Feedism health - Diabetes Mellitus

TW: feederism, feedism reality, medical issues, explicitly explained medical conditions

Hi! This post gonna be long, it is a bit more medical again. We are feedists, right. Many of us are overweight or obese, some also have high blood pressure and many other comorbidities. We overeat a lot, stuffing so much sugar and fat into our bellis or bellies of our feedees so that we gain as much as we want. Therefore we are at HIGH risk of developing diabetes.

I am a student of physical therapy, NOT A DOCTOR. But I kinda feel the need to educate our community a bit 📚. So there are some facts (from medical literature which i study for my exames) about diabetes that I think should be commonly known. It may scare you, it may make you horny (we are weird, especially death feedists, hi guys 🖤), I just want you to know this, if you feel strong enough:

What it is and important vocabulary:

It is a disease caused by malfunction of insulin secretion from pancreas, or by insulin resistence of target tissue (such as muscles) or combination -> in every case you have a problem with insulin and glucose in your body.

There are two types, type I (DMI) that is caused by autoimunne reactions and you can not prevent it. And type II (DMII) which is hella important for our community because you can literally eat yourself into it. The more you over eat, the more you weight, the less you move, the higher the probability of developing that disease. This post is mainly about DMII.

Glycaemia = how much glucose (form of sugar) is in your blood

Norm is 3,9-5,5 mmol/l. After eating usually max 7,8 mmol/l

Hypoglycemia = less than 3,3 mmol/l

Hyperglycemia = over 11 mmol/l

Insulin causes that glucose goes from blood to your cells so it can become part of your metabolism. On the other hand there are hormones that causes the opposite - more sugar in your blood (by various mechanisms) and those are adrenaline, kortisol, growth hormone and glukagon.

How to get diagnosis of diabetes mellitus type II:

Doctor takes a sample of your blood plasma and tests its glycaemia:

If it is done in two different days and in both cases your glycaemia is over 11 mmol/l

OR if it is over 7 mmol/l after not eating for at least 8 hours*

OR if you undergo oral glucose tolerancy test and it is positive (you drink 75 g of glucose in 200 ml of water, wait for 2 hours and your glycaemia is over 11 mmol/l)

...in any of these cases they probably give you a diagnosis of Diabetes Mellitus. This apllies for my country in the middle of Europe, idk about your countries but it could be very similiar.

OR! I know that in USA they are also supposed to measure glucated hemoglobin (HbA1c) and diagnose you with DM if it is over 48 mmol/l.

*if your results are between 5,6 to 6,9 mmol/l, you are prediabetic which means that your body already suffers but you can stop it and go back to full health by changing your lifestyle (read more bellow).

Smyptoms of DMII:

I gonna explain them in "normal" language. You may have just some or all of them:

you are thirsty a lot, you drink a lot, you pee a lot, you are still thirsty though

there is glucose in your urine which definitely should not (you will not notice it, lab will)

you lose weight, you feel tired

your vission is blurred

you have some of acute or chronical complications (more bellow)

Complications of diabetes AKA what may happen to you:

They are usually devided into two groups - acute that actually can kill you pretty quickly and chronic that deteriorate your quality of life. (In the worst hypothetical case you can become blind, with neurological pain, amputated leg and close to a stroke that may kill your ability to move and speak. Nice, isnt it? 🤢) So lets get a closer look into that. These things happen when you do not treat your diabetes well or ignore it at all (for example continue in overeating and gaining even after being diagnosed):

Acute complications:

Hypoglycemia - may occur in patients that are treated with insulin (or glinids or derivates of sulfonylurey), also after drinking alcohol (even when you eat with it or dink juice etc). You do not have enough glucose in your blood so your brain cells become to die and in the worst case you will fall "asleep" (into coma) in the evening at party and will not wake up in the morning because you simply die. Your body fights hypoglycemie by making more glucose from storages in your liver, muscle and fat mass. Symptoms are anxiety, blurred vision, inability to concentrate but also seizure and coma.

Diabetic ketoacidosis - occurs in patients with DMI, very dangerous, also can lead to death. If you dont aplicate insulin when you should, you become hyperglycemic, dehydrated and your body catabolise fat into ketone bodies.

If you overdo it with your stuffing session while you are diabetic you may hypothetically cause yourself a hyperglycemic hyperosmolar coma. You are dehydrated, pee a lot, your blood pressure is very low, so low that it can reach hypovolemic shock and you faint. Also you kinda damage your kidneys.

Cronic complications:

Instability between insulin and glucose causes damage to your blood vessels and nerves which may result in

Retinopathy - you slowly lose your vision or even become completely blind

Nephropathy - if you ignore that you have diabetes, you damage your kidneys, it is asymptomatic for a long time but may result in need of dialysis or even transplantation if not treated.

Neuropathies - very common and very annoying. Harms your nerves - all kinds of nerves which means motor (problems with movement), sensoric (problems with feeling anything - touch, pressure, pain, cold, warmth, vibrations etc. and "problems" means you feel it less, more or differently so for example contant pain tha cannot be stopped) and autonomus (causes erectile dysfunction and decrease of libido, slows down motility in your stomach and gut, makes you feel sick, causes vomiting, constipation and diarrhoea and many more)

Diabetic foot - tissues in your leg are so damaged that it may literally start to rot and in the worst cases leads to amputations. This complication is related to many things from little injuries to ulcerations to gangrenes with bacterias that kinda eats your fat, muscles and bones.

Aterosclerosis - higher risk for ischemic heart disease (angina pectoris, heart attack), lower limb ischemia (may cause pulmonary embolism) and stroke.

Other problems such as: inflamation of thyroid gland, celiac disease (you can not eat anything with wheat, barley and others), diseases of skin, mycotic infections, urological infections etc.

Treatment:

I hope you are at least a bit frightened now... So what can we do when we are prediabetic or even diabetic? Three things!

Diet - if you are overweight or obese then it is weight-loss diet plus diet counting how many carbohydrates and fat you eat. Losing weight really works honestly.

Physical activity - helps so much!!! In general you should walk at least 10k steps per day and do some aerobic exercise for at least 30 minutes 3-4 times per week. And it should be on 75 % of your maximal heart rate (how to count that at home: "220 - your age = ideal load") plus ofc any sport you like. If you do have diabetes, be very careful about any injuries because it can lead to the diabetic foot.

Meds - DMI insulin for sure. DMII usually gets first oral antidiabetics and only in some cases insulin. But over all meds are only part of the treatment, it reallly does not work well without taking care of your food or exercising. You need to change your lifestyle if you wanna get better (I know that some of you don't).

______________________________________

I hope this post gave you something, tought you something new and you know the risks of our kink better now. I do not want to tell you not to do it - I have that kink too and love it, gonna continue gaining. Just be aware about the consequences 💕

Uffff... that was long and complicated, I actually did my research for that and spent few hours making that post 😂. But it is still possible that i did some mistakes, did not understand something well etc - I am NOT a doctor, please believe more your health proffesionals than me, thank you. Im sorry if anything does not make sense or if I use some words in a strange way - english is not my native language and I do not know many medical terms and phrases, know them only in czech and latin so I translate it somehow based on that XD

Enjoy the candy that our kink brings to our life and stay as healthy as you wish 💕💕💕

~ Your Tessie

[changingplumbob]

Foster Household: Chapter 9, part 14

CW: Mental Health Struggles - Guide to content warnings

Friday. It should be the best day of the week with school winding down but instead someone decided to make Fridays exam days. First up was the exam for English class, testing reading comprehension and writing skills.

Darwin: Why didn’t you guys tell me it was exam day

Carson, William, Onyx: EVERY Friday is exam day

Darwin: Yeesh, calm down. You’d think I asked who killed Father Winter

Mrs T: 10 minutes to go!

Carson panicked. He still had another paragraph he wanted to do, could he fit it in and triple check his multi question answers? Pushing his doubts aside he began a breathing exercise and started on the paragraph. He needn’t have worried. He managed to do it and recheck the first two pages before Mrs T announced it was time for pencils down. As she collected the papers he rhythmically tapped his foot to make sure she wouldn't laugh at his first paper.

Onyx: I feel like I did okay, how about you?

Carson: I probably failed but if I didn’t maybe a solid B+

Onyx: You’ll be fine. All your family head home then?

Carson: Yeah they’ll be off by now. I didn’t kill Reece so I suppose it went well

Onyx: He might have killed you with a slow acting poison in your breakfast

Carson: Oh my- Nyx could you not!

Onyx: Right, anxiety, sorry, bad joke. I’m just trying to improve my comedy

When they got to the cafeteria they split with Onyx heading for food and Carson looking for Ariadne.

Ariadne: Hey! I didn’t think I’d get to see you at lunch

Carson: I’m going to go study in a minute but I wanted to check you’re still okay with me getting you home?

Ariadne: I’d love some company on the trains

Carson: Good. Well, see ya

He turned to go but hesitated. The hug had been good, maybe... Carson turned back to face Ariadne, leaned down and kissed her on the cheek and sped off to the sounds of her friends oh’s and ah’s. Well that hadn’t been bad. He still didn’t feel an urge to woohoo but it felt comforting to be close to her, that he was letting her know how he felt. Seeing her smile after, knowing he’d made her smile like that, it felt satisfying enough for him.

The after exams were the STEM subjects. Carson felt reasonably confident about his knowledge. He may have been distracted thinking of Ariadne but he’d completed all his homework, and done the extra study. He finished double checking everything five minutes early and started thinking about after school. It was just one question he was worried about. Flirting was one thing but would she actually want to be his girlfriend?

The train ride was easier than he thought. Carson and Ariadne talked about the various things they could spot out the windows and were together when their exam results came through. They’d both done pretty well and Carson was happy with getting the top score in the art section of the exam. When they got to Ariadne’s house she didn’t want to go right in, preferring to sit outside and admire the lake for a bit.

Ariadne: It’s so beautiful when it’s all covered in a blanket of white

Carson: Well you’re beautiful full stop

Ariadne: *smiling* Thank you

Ariadne: Thanks for bringing me home, it was fun. I should probably get inside before I turn into ice. Unless... you want to come in?

Carson: Oh no that’s okay, I do have to get back to Sulani. I’ve got planning to do before scouts tomorrow. But um... I’ve really liked hanging out with you more

Ariadne: *smiling* Me to

Carson: So I wanted to ask, and you can totally say no, if you would maybe... be my girlfriend?

Ariadne: You want me to be your girlfriend?

Carson: Yes. I... I would like if you’d consider it

Ariadne: So you’d be my boyfriend?

Carson: Yeah that’s... that’s kind of how it works

Ariadne: If I say yes do you promise to take me to our next prom?

Carson: *laughs* Of course I’d take you to prom

Ariadne: Yes. Yes!

Carson: Are you sure? I mean I like how I look but I worry you’d be embarrassed to be dating a four eyed overweight guy. I don't want you to die of embarrassment

Ariadne: *sighs* You worry a lot huh

Carson: Yeah. I ah.... I have OCD actually

Ariadne: Listen Carson, I like you. I think your glasses are cute. Anyone makes fun of you for being overweight and I’ll show them you have a girlfriend that’s not to be messed with

Carson: *laughs* You’re like ant height

Ariadne: But you like me regardless, and I like you regardless

Carson: I do

Ariadne: Can you wait five minutes before heading off? I just want to grab something for you

Carson: Okay. If you come back and I’m not here tell them to dredge the lake

Ariadne: *laughs* I’ll just be a minute, no one’s going to murder you in a minute

She races inside and Carson can’t stop himself grinning. He’s glad for the falling snow to cool the blush in his cheeks. It’s longer than a minute but Ariadne comes back outside with a rose.

Carson: What’s this

Ariadne: My dads got me some pots and seeds and not much has grown yet but this rose bloomed a few days ago and it just made me think of you

Carson: Watcher you’re so cute

That’s the Foster’s for now! Harvey is still chomping at the bit for grandkids while Kayleigh is making a habit of painting masterpieces. Carson may have a lot going on in his head but hopefully making his relationship official will take care of some of his worries.

Rotation Wrap Up will be out tomorrow morning.

Previous ... Next

[fayamn-moonlit]

mid-20s tgirl here, all my life i was never “in shape” but always skinny. other than brief flirtations with stuffing when i was fresh out of high school, i have also always been a feeder, i never thought the feedee life would be for me… until i put on 25 pounds this year without even meaning to. i didn’t think it was such a big deal, but once i realized i was formally “overweight”, it was like a switch flipped…

i’ve spent the last 5 days in a row recklessly stuffing myself with thousands of excess calories a day, feeling my poor overfed gut form new stretch marks, overflowing my clothes just a bit more every day, unable to hide my arousal when i feel my belly wobble from basic movements. i look chubby when i haven’t eaten and borderline pregnant when i have, since every meal is a challenge to add another thousand calories. in just a few days i went from thinking i was perfectly average, even if maybe i thought i could stand to drop some weight, to suddenly being desperate to be fed and teased for what i’m doing to myself.

i still am nervous about getting too far into this lifestyle, i think about how so many things about my life and interactions with others will change if i keep going… but a part of my brain says it’s already too late and it’s time to embrace what i was supposed to be all along... what do you think?

Nice one. You absolutely know what you wanna hear and want more excuses to give in. I'm not gonna deny you that, give in. You're already rolling down the hill of depravity, and you're only making yourself more orb-like to roll down faster. You're explaining to a teasy feeder just how shameful your year has been as if you're expecting anything except what you truly crave for: hot berating that turns you on and make you want to grow more into the fatass you're destined to be.

It's always been too late sweetie, you had it in you, congrats. Why do you think you gained in the first place? The mind is truly a fascinating thing, you won't admit to yourself you were already on your way to feedeehood.

Now, cutie, you're gonna be a big adorable feedee~ Put on some nice curves and then some more ;3

[800milesisadrive]

Meet Cute

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at playing around with AI co-authoring, with maybe 75% either being my own work or a heavy rewrite of the suggestions. It's a very crude and ugly little bit smut, but felt good enough to share it. Any stories I do share in the future that use AI for more than editing and brainstorming will be noted as such!

Sarah was so deeply focused on her homework, she didn't notice the man sitting across from her until he started talking.

"You know, girls as cute as you shouldn't need to study so hard," his voice cracked as he wheezed out the words.

Sarah could feel her whole body tense up. This guy had been bugging her all week, pestering her with inane chatter about anime and hentai. She just wanted to be left alone. She looked up at him, glaring at the overweight and unbathed lump sitting at seat on the other side of the table. Her almond eyes narrowing into slits, barely able to keep herself from screaming at him.

"I suggest you focus on your own life, buddy," she snapped back, her tone sharper than a knife.

The weeb recoiled slightly, but only for a pause. After a moment of stuttering, he seemed to regain his undeserved confidence. With a slightly unhinged smile, he launched into another speech about some obscure anime series.

"Like in Duko-Duko Magica?" he continued, completely ignoring Sarah's protest. "The One-Chan; doesn't have to worry about school, her master just puts a replica of her in class so no one suspects she's off having adventures!"

His tone was that of a father trying to explain a storybook to a toddler. This man wasn't talking to Sarah, but down to her. Even without his hunched posture, Sarah suspected she'd still be taller than this dork.

Was he wearing the same, sweat-stained anime t-shirt from yesterday, when he first tried to corner her in the library? Sarah was nearly sure of it, but wouldn't put it past this loser to have multiple outfits that were plastered with girls making faces with their tongues out...

"It's an 'Ahegao' pattern," the man said leaning forward. Sarah had unexpectedly zoned out, staring at him. " Though you know that already, being Japanese! It's actually the 'Mind-Break Ahegao' edition," he continued pointing at his chest. "Limited drop!"

Sarah felt lightheaded and frustrated. She couldn't believe how persistent and presumptive this guy was. While her family was from Japan, she'd never been herself and had never watched anime.

"Listen, I don't want to talk about this anymore," Sarah finally said, her voice trembling with impatience. "Can you just leave me alone?"

The man's face contorted into a mask of disbelief. "But we're having such a fun conversation!" he whined.

Sarah was done with this loser and his racist shit. She started to collect her things, packing them up to escape this annoying prick.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed the man shifting in his chair, looking around nervously. His nerves coming back.

"It's not supposed to take this long..." he muttered to himself. "'Instant changes' is what the site said..."

Sarah paused, confused and oddly concerned by his change in demeanor. She hated this guy from the moment she set eyes on him, yet now she felt some irrational empathy.

He seemed like a pathetic loner, desperate for human connection that he would cling onto anything within reach. That desperation reminded her of her own loneliness, amplified by being a minority in an overwhelmingly white campus.

As he mumbled under his breath, she found herself glancing at his shirt again. The lewd drawings were unsettling, especially since they appeared to be moving - pulsing faintly with each heartbeat. Suddenly, a wave of vertigo washed over her. She struggled to sit upright, feeling dizzy and disoriented. Was it the late hour? Or perhaps something in the air?

Maybe it was too close to the radiator and there was something wrong with the heating system, because she suddenly felt incredibly warm and light-headed. Her hands, which moments ago held tightly onto her books, loosened their grip. She stared blankly at the book covers sprawled before her on the table. In that hazy state, she realized that they depicted scenes from Japanese folklore, images that once alien to her were now strangely familiar. It was like she remembered childhood memories of hearing these stories told by her grandmother during bedtime.

Sarah closed her eyes with surprise at the vivid imagery she saw in her mind.

"Hey, are you ok?" The man leaned toward her, concern etched into his previously obnoxious expression. "Maybe you should get some rest."

"No, I'm fine," Sarah assured him, opening her eyes wide. "Just tired, I guess."

The man nodded sympathetically. "You've been working too hard. Exchange students have it the toughest."

"I'm not..." Sarah began to protest and stopped herself. She wasn't an exchange student, was she?

Sarah thought to herself, her grip tightening around her textbooks. But then why do I feel this strange sense of familiarity? She wondered if she had simply forgotten her heritage due to spending her entire life in America. Maybe her mother spoke tales of Japanese myths during her childhood, stories that somehow lodged themselves deep enough inside her brain to surface now.

"Are you sure you're doing alright?" He asked, peering at her intently. Sarah was taken aback by her sudden attraction to his soft brown eyes. They were full of genuine concern, a stark contrast to his previous arrogant attitude.

For a brief moment, Sarah considered sharing her confusion with him. Yet, she hesitated, fearing that he might exploit her vulnerability. Instead, she simply replied, "Yeah, I'm good. Just need to take a break." She stood up abruptly, hoping to end the conversation. However, as she did, a sharp pain coursed through her legs, causing her to stumble. Mark caught her quickly, his firm grip steadying her. Sarah blinked, surprised by his unexpected gentleness.

"Maybe you should sit down. You look exhausted," he suggested softly.

Sarah looked up at him. Just a few moments ago she'd assumed he was about her height but now he towered over her, looking almost manly in spite of his flabby shape.

Something was happening to her. Sarah didn't fully understand it, but if felt like gravity itself had shifted. The whole world seemed a bit taller, and this man's touch felt like a life preserver she needed to cling to.

"This is... This is all wrong." Sarah breathed out, trying to keep from fainting.

A hungry smirk crawled over the man's face, once that filled Sarah with strong revulsion. She yanked herself back.

"What... what are you doing to me?" she stumbled, catching herself on the table. Sarah felt a strange sensation in her head, this was beyond exhaustion. Sarah managed to ask, her voice trembling.

Mark maintained a deceptively calm composure, though beneath his outwardly collected exterior, he felt ecstatic. He had finally found someone who understood his passion for anime and accepted him.

"Nothing much," Mark responded nonchalantly. "Just trying to help you relax, that's all." "Relax?" Sarah scoffed incredulously.

" Relax? What kind of sick game are you playing with me?"

His face fell, his eyes widening innocently. "Sick game? No way, Sarah. You know me, I'm Mark. We bonded over our love for anime..."

"Oh yeah?" Sarah retorted sarcastically. "And what makes you think I'd enjoy something so... so ridiculous?"

Mark faltered for a moment, looking hurt. "Well, you seem pretty stressed out..." Mark trailed off quietly, swallowing the last of his words.

Anger boiled up inside Sarah, threatening to overwhelm her resolve. "Stressed?" she spat, unable to contain her fury. "How dare you insinuate that you can read my mind? That you can even begin to comprehend my feelings?"

Her voice shook with anger, and she took a step backward, away from him. Mark's gaze followed her every movement, his eyes flickering between sadness and determination.

"I-I'm serious..." she couldn't focus on his face. As much as she wanted to scream, looking at him seemed to diffuse the anger. She didn't want to hurt him, she wanted him to be happy. It was her place to make him happy... "You're just becoming more _you_" he comforted her, and Sarah couldn't help but nod in agreement. This tall, sweet man was just trying to help a confused exchange student. How could she ever have been so rude to him?

Sarah felt ashamed and guilty, wishing she could turn back time and apologize. Instead, she stood frozen on the spot, her heart pounding against her chest. "Mark, please forgive me," she whispered, her voice cracking in despair. "I didn't mean to lash out at you. I'm just scared and confused right now..."

Mark gazed at her with tender compassion, silently acknowledging her apology. "Don't worry about it, Sarah," he reassured her gently. "I understand that you're going through a lot right now..." Mark spoke in a soothing voice, reaching out to lightly touch

Sarah's arm. Sarah felt a shockwave of pleasure ripple through her body. "But I promise you, everything will be okay. We'll find a way to make things better."

Sarah swallowed hard, her throat parched and dry. "I just don't... I don't feel like myself anymore," she confessed, her voice breaking. "I feel like I'm losing control. My thoughts are jumbled, and I can't remember..." Sarah said weakly, feeling increasingly vulnerable.

"You're just remembering who you truly are, deep down," Mark murmured, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her arm. "You're not just a diligent student, Sari-chan."

Sarah tried to resist, but his gentle touch felt too inviting. "What are you talking about?" she whispered hoarsely. "I'm Sarah. I-I don't know you at all. You're doing something to me. You drugged me or something..."

Sarah winced thinking of what he said. "Sari-chan", the nickname feeling alien and foreign on her tongue. Still, she couldn't deny the strange sense of comfort it brought her. It made her want to lean closer to Mark, basking in his warmth and safety.

"Let's just sit here for a moment, shall we?" Mark coaxed, leading Sarah to sit with him on the cold stone floor. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, offering her a comforting embrace.

"Mark-san." Sarah said, her voice seeming oddly light and girly. "What did you do to me?"

Mark's arm wrapped around her, slyly cupping her breast as he comforted her.

"You're just remembering who you truly are, deep down," he murmured, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on her arm.

Sarah gasped, her body jolting involuntarily. "What are you doing?" she cried out, instinctively attempting to push his hand away.

"Shh, Sari-chan," Mark hushed her, tightening his grasp around her waist. "There's nothing to be afraid of." Mark whispered into Sarah's ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps down her spine. "I'm only trying to help you. To bring back your true self."

"My true self?" Sarah repeated, feeling a strange mixture of apprehension and excitement welling up inside her. "Who am I really, Mark?"

With a soft chuckle, Mark pulled Sarah closer, pressing her body against his. "You're Sari-Chan. You're the beautiful Japanese girl who's too in love with me to ever say anything." Mark said, his voice sounding confident and dominant.

Sarah felt a surge of arousal course through her veins. The idea of being a submissive Asian woman enthralled her. She'd spent years suppressing her true desires—the longing for a powerful, protective man to guide her every move. Now, it was like the floodgates had opened, uncovering buried fantasies she'd never allowed herself to explore.

"Why...? Why you want girl like Sari-chan?" Sarah asked, her voice quivering uncontrollably. "Mark-san is big and handsome American..."

Sarah's own brain betrayed her, her memories of home being replaced with fuzzy memories of cherry blossoms and Japanese villages. Images that weren't hers but now seemed to be part of her deepest self swam in her mind.

"Sari-chan, you're ready to show yourself to everyone, aren't you?" Mark whispered seductively, his hot breath tickling Sarah's neck.

"Oh yes, Mark-san," Sarah whimpered, feeling an odd sense of liberation. "I'm ready to be yours forever."

Mark smiled triumphantly, stroking Sarah's silky hair. "That's my girl," he murmured approvingly.

"I knew you could do it. I could see it in your eyes."

[popcat69]

Heloow! may i request a youngest sibling! reader x rottmnt turtles(platonic) where the reader feels like shes fat cause someone in their class made fun of them and then they started starving themselves, then the turtles finally found out like after 2 days cause they arent hyper active per usual , then they start venting to their brothers about this and they try their best to show reader that shes perfect and she dosent need to starve their selves, Thank you!

❤️❤️

Warning: eating disorder, starvation 

Notes: if anyone ever feels like this my messages are always open to anyone <3 please please don't ever try to starve yourself. You will never feel happier, you won't know when to stop. don't do it, it's not worth risking your happiness and freedom.

You would scroll through your socials always looking at others. How their life is more fun and how happy they look but they look better than you, skinnier than you. You like the way you look… well liked the way you look. You can't stand looking at yourself in the mirror anymore. You feel sick everytime. You're not overweight, you're perfectly average but it doest feel like that. You start saying up later watching makeup tutorials on how to do the perfect winged eyeliner or how to make your skin glow, as well as waking up hours earlier just to do your hair and make yourself look over the top. If you don't try enough you stand out but if you try hard you stand out. You keep getting called out on it at school and it's draining you at this point.

Your alarm goes off as you groan slowly, opening your eyes. 5 am… you sigh, grabbing your phone and scrolling through your socials looking at stalking every gorgeous, skinner, better looking girl from your year. Without noticing you realise half an hour has passed. You groan as you get out of your bed making your way to your bathroom and taking a shower before brushing your teeth. You pick out a mediocre outfit. Just some jeans and a hoodie. You can't help but stare at the mirror. Why can't I look like them? What am I doing wrong? You spend around an hour putting on makeup covering up every small thing you viewed as imperfect. You’ve got around 15 minutes left before you leave. You make your way to the kitchen seeing your brothers. Donnie is helping Mikey cook as Leo sleepy looks at the kitchen counter and Raph tries to wake him up.

Mikey perks up hearing your footsteps. You notice this. Am I that heavy to make such loud steps?

“Morning! I’ve made you your favourite! Pancakes with strawberries!” he says with a smile looking proudly at you. Your stomach drops hearing this. You can't eat that. You're supposed to be on a diet. Supposed to try to look better but you keep a smile on your face.

“I'm so sorry Mikey but I'm not really hungry” you say rubbing your arm hoping he would just brush it off. Donnie however looks at you confused and Leo slowly lifts his head up to Raph giving him a look.

“Dear sister, you must eat. How will you pay attention in class?”

“Really, i'm not hungry” 

“ok , just make sure you eat some lunch ok?” 

“I will Raph, don't worry” you give him a smile before leo looks at you squinting his eyes

“Hermana! Are you wearing makeup?” you freeze a bit. you didn't put a lot.

“Umm ya” leo looking suspiciously at you

“Not trying impress someone are you?” he grins mischievously and Donnie proceeds to fake a gag. Mikey thought he was actually going to puke and pushed him out the kitchen. You laugh.

“What? No! Just… wanting to try something different. Why? Does it look bad?”

“Of course not! If you start wanting to wear it more often you can ask April for some tips. That might be a good idea”

“Ok ya i will. I’ve got to go now or else i'll be late”

“See you later!”

You nod before making your way out the lair with your lunch that mikey had handed to you before you left. 

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Shit. That's how you would describe your day, absolutely shit. You didn't eat your lunch because some of the girls decided to be asses today.

“Are you sure you want to eat today?”

“You know, if you lose a bit of wight you might be noticed”

You cried to yourself in the bathroom stall at lunch. What did I do? You're walking home and pass by a dumpster. You look at it for a few seconds before taking your lunch out the bag and throwing it in the bin without hesitation. You don't need mikey asking why you haven't eaten. It's not important. 

You make your way back to the lair and as you enter you see. No one. They must be out on patrol, you thought. You make your way to your room and you see a note on your door.

Hey sis! Your amazing brothers are out on patrol right now but there is some leftover lunch in the fridge. Help yourself!

You laugh to yourself and ignore it before walking into your room and closing your door. You feel so tired, so drained you just pass out on your bed.

Next day is the same but this time you had a bit of breakfast and counted the calories making sure to burn them after. You had also weighed yourself wondering what's the perfect weight. When you came home that day your brothers were out on patrol again. You sigh seeing the same note on your door but probably by Leo because you don't know how in hell you read that. The handwriting was interesting to say the least. This becomes a routine now until You start to feel dizzy all the time. Maybe just sleep it off. You do your nightly routine and pass out.

The door slowly opens. You whine covering your eyes from the light that seeps into your room.

“Raph?”

“Hey ___”

You just close your eyes and sigh as Raph walks closer to your bed.

“You feeling ok? You’ve been falling asleep earlier than usual. School taking a toll on you?”

You just nod your head not knowing what to say

“Thought so, just rest up and we’ll make a good breakfast for you” your eyes shoot open at these words. Your stomach cramps up as you cry

“____! You ok?”

You run to the bathroom as Raph calls for donnie. You crouch over the toilet before throwing up. Your vision is blurry before looking up to see Donnie and Leo. your purple brother visibly cringes at the sight as Leo runs up next to you holding your hair up. You cry as you look up to see Mikey and Raph enter with worried eyes on you. Leo helps you up before Mikey helps you wash your face at the sink.

“What's wrong with her? Does she have food poisoning?” Mikey looks at his brothers as if he was about to cry

“No, she only vomited bile, her stomach is empty, it's not food poisoning” Leo said. You grip onto Mikey finding it hard to stand up by yourself.

“____? It's ok” Raph rubbed your back trying to calm you down.

“Only bile? ___ when was the last time you ate?” you freeze looking up at Donnie

“Answer! When was the last time you ate a full meal? A proper meal?” you burst into tears again

“I dont know!” you shout making mikey and leo flinch

‘I dont know…I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didnt think” you breath hitches as it speeds up. Your brother sighs as he crouches in front of you

“Breathe” you take a deep breath slowly calming down. Your brothers look at each other

“Raph will take you back to bed”

“I’ll get you some water”

Raph carries you back to bed as Leo comes back with a glass of water in his hand. He gives it to you as you accept it with shaking hands. You don't like this, you don't like the way they stare at you. You feel so helpless and so lost.

“____… what happened?” mikey starts

“I don't know..”

“Why haven't you eaten?”

“I…i don't know!”

“____.. Answer”

“I don't know! I just feel like shit! I hate the way I look, the way I talk, the way I act, the way I walk. I hate this body! I wanna be better, look better, look prettier! I don't know”

“W-what?” Mikey looks up at you with glossy eyes as you glance back at him with your own

“Hermana..you are absolutely perfect the way you are, ok?”

“Exactly, you don't need to change the way you are. We think you're perfect!”

“Ok but others Dont!”

“Stop thinking about what others think. And starving yourself isn't the right way to go about this! You can die!”

You don't know what to say, you just look at them helplessly.

“You can't keep doing this.”

“You need to get better. Promise us you’ll get better”

You hesitate you’ve grown to kind of like the feeling of being hungry now you crave it

“I…i”

“We will help you ok?”

“O-ok”

“We will help you get better, feel better about yourself”

Before you know it your surrounded by your favourite people in the world hugging you tightly scared to let you go as if you’ll break