#and then re: stretchmarks

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ peanut butter & tears ♡

♡ Pairing: idol!boyfriend!minho! x fem!reader

♡ Summary: A week after Minho goes public with your relationship, a ghost from your past posts a stream of tweets on social media revealing your darkest secrets to millions and, more importantly, your boyfriend.

♡ Genre: angst/fluff

♡ Word Count: 1.1k-ish

♡ Warnings: mention of sex, brief discussion of scars/stretchmarks/self harm/people being assholes on the internet (none of it's graphic but still important to warn you of, my loves)

♡ A/N: I love and appreciate @aprilskillstory not only for submitting this but for being super patient while I wrote it and for trusting me to write it at all. I named this after a DPR Ian song btw. If you haven't heard it, it's magical.

This is a nightmare...

Actually, it’s much worse than that. Nightmares you wake up from. This is real life. No alarm clock will ring to snap you out of it. This is happening. Sinking further down into the lukewarm water of your bubble bath, you look on helplessly as your phone lights up with notifications. Every few seconds the number in the top right corner of a half dozen apps doubles, triples in some cases. 

Minho’s decision to go public with your relationship had initially gone much nicer than you anticipated. A week had passed with minimal backlash and what you did receive had begun to die down before the stream of tweets that have you preferring to prune than to crawl out of this tub and face him.

There's no telling who would have posted them. Tweet after tweet detailing things that you’ve wanted with everything in you to open up to Minho about. You’ve tried a million times and a million times your admissions have gotten caught in your throat, jagged and barbed, refusing to budge.

But someone dragged them out and your soul along with them, putting your secrets on display for a merciless crowd set on tearing you away from their beloved Minho. 

“Trauma like that can’t make her a stable girlfriend.”

“Self harm scars? No wonder she’s always covered up in pics…” 

“Our Lino deserves better.”

“She’s dated girls too? Do you think he knew?”

“If Minho knew he wouldn’t be with her.” 

You scroll through reply after reply until your screen’s too wet for your touch to register. You’re startled by the sound of Minho shouting, his voice muffled through the thick walls of your apartment but his rage is unmistakable. Placing your phone on the chair by the bathtub, you hop out before courage abandons you.

“It’s gonna be okay” you repeat to yourself, wrapping a towel around you to form a lilac safety blanket, “Everything’s gonna be okay. Just breathe.” Footsteps descend down the hall and you breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow breaths full of intent like the pink haired girl in the yoga pants on Youtube instructed you to do.

“You’re the only big brother I have. Just, please, don’t let them come here” Minho begs, standing in the doorway with his phone to his ear, “I’ll come after. I promise. Thank you.” He hangs up, turning to you, his gaze transforming you into stone like one of the foolish men who dared to lay eyes on Medusa. The rise and fall of your chest ceases almost to the point of lifelessness.

“Minho, I can explain…” He folds an arm across his chest, nervously tapping his phone against his temple, “That you hid things from me?” “I didn’t hide anything. At least, not on purpose. I didn't mean to do it.” “Then what did you mean to do? Hmm? You know what I do for work. What were you thinking?” “Fuck, I don’t know” you weep, sitting on the edge of the tub.

You tilt your head back, hoping to send the tears rolling back to where they came from but it’s no use. They only pool in your eyes, clouding your vision so that the only thing you see as Minho approaches is the distorted silhouette of his figure. “I wanted to tell you, I did, but I was afraid it’d be too much at once. That you’d hate me like other guys in the past have.”

You’re rambling, breathing heavily, blindly reaching for tissues. Minho leans your head forward, resting your left cheek on his stomach while he strokes the other side of your face, soothing your anxiousness.  “Hate you? Hate…you?” he asks, more offended by your statement than you expect, “I need you to look at me.” Sniffling, you turn to look up at him and he’s…smiling?

“I love you. Nothing could ever make me hate you. I just wish you’d come to me so I could've protected you. If I had known…” “Wait, you’re not mad?” “At what?” “That I’ve, you know, dated women before.” Minho shrugs, “Jisung’s basically my last resort if we break up so, uh, no.” “But my scars and my stretch marks…” Kissing you on the forehead, he backs away and begins to take his shirt off.

“When you asked me to have sex with the lights out did I ever argue?” For the first time since you met, it sets in that he had, in fact, never questioned why you never wanted the lights on. Come to think of it, you usually didn’t need to ask for them to be off. They already were. Minho tosses his shirt to the ground, running his fingers along the scar that marks his abdomen, “I was afraid you wouldn’t like mine either.”

“Wouldn’t like it?” you scoff, unable to fathom how you’d ever find him anything short of beautiful, “It’s a part of you. I love anything that’s a part of you.” Minho sits down beside you, delighting in seeing you even partially uncovered for the first time, “The feeling’s mutual.” The sound of a vibrating phone grabs your attention. You glance over at the chair. It’s not yours.

Minho digs his phone out of his pocket, groaning as he scrolls through text messages. “Shit, I have to go do damage control” he huffs, jumping up to toss his shirt back on, “But when I come back we have to talk. I have questions about the scars if you’re comfortable? Just to make sure you’re okay.” “Uh, yeah, sure that’s okay. I’ll make us some food for when you get back and you can ask me whatever.” 

His phone vibrates again, this time it’s a call. “What?” he whines, “I’m on my way. No, I really am. I’m in the car right now. Oh no, you’re breaking up. Oh…” Minho’s phone hits the bath water with a splash, sending bubbles cascading down the walls. “Oops,” he gasps, knowing very well it wasn’t an accident.

Minho gives you a dozen more kisses on your lips, on your forehead, on your cheeks, before he’s dashing around the apartment searching for his keys. “And stay off of social media unless you plan to make a list of everyone who says something bad so I can fight them! Love you!” he shouts on the way out the front door. “Love you too!” you shout back before it closes.

Left alone in the silence of the aftermath, you nibble at your bottom lip, nervous at having finally found someone this accepting but beyond happy that he exists. That he’s yours. A phone vibrates again. Your phone. Picking it up you see that it’s a call from someone you haven’t spoken to in a while. No doubt with questions about what’s been going on. You stare at it for a moment, contemplating answering but then...

“Oops” you gasp, letting your phone slip into a watery grave beside Minho’s, “Tragic.”

[ftm2bbw]

Of course, pregnancy is going to be traumatizing for you in the best possible way. Your tits will swell and fill with milk. Your hips will widen and stretch, plumping up your ass along with them. Your belly will become even rounder and more bloated as your womb stretches with child. Your body will be forced to undergo a nine-month re-feminizing until the idea of pretending to be anything other than a woman is laughable. But the worst part isn't the stretchmarks, the red scars that line your ruined skin. It isn't the fact that you know you'll never be able to go back to the "man" you once thought you were.

The worst part is that, now that you've gotten a taste, you crave it all the more.

You know your body was designed to carry a child. You've tasted the unending arousal that comes from your twisted, dysphoric mind and nine months of it has left you hopelessly addicted. You want it. You crave it. You need to be fucked and filled all over again. You haven't had your period in ages and you want to make sure that you never have it again, except this time for entirely different reasons. You want to go back to seeing what pregnancy can do to your body, each one refining you more and more until your role as a woman, your shape as a breeder, cannot be denied.

It’s bad how much my body craves this now, before it’s even had a taste. How much I ache and throb and get wet at the mere thought, how I’m squirming in my seat at the idea of even just taking the risk of getting knocked up. How dysphoric I feel when thinking about how my body would change and feminize, and yet how I get so intensely and sickeningly aroused all the same.

And once I’ve had my first taste? Of feeling my body balloon, my tits swell and ache and fill, of my hips expanding, of my hormones running wild? Fuck, I’d never be anything but a womb and tits ever again…

[picturesofthegoneworlds]

Rating: E

There hadn’t been much time to talk. There is never much time to talk. She had accumulated so many mostly-empty decades with too much time to talk that surely she could re-distribute them now – gut the words from the straw stuffing in Pâté’s taxidermy stomach and grind it between mill stones and bake it in shrapnelled-belly into bread, share that time in Fresh Cut pillowy slices and buttered toast and sandwiches with the Hells, though certainly what would be regurgitated would be of less use than manure, not even bone-meal, and Imogen deserves more than thirty years of grey monologue slop - nutritious as the influence of time-rot isolation on her own accent, acknowledgeable in a short amount of time bloomed further in how Imogen’s diminished within her own company and fleeing home, causing Imogen’s inflection to soften, dull, slowly, over their nearly-three-years, over and under the time Laudna offered, burnt oven loaves and skillet-fried flatbreads -

and Imogen had taken. There could never be enough time when it was willingly shared.

That had been the case from the beginning. Their beginning – it always will remain that, despite- despite later…developments. Names. Formalities. Definitions. Uncertainties. The bed was always theirs - perhaps always made. Destined. What a small corner of the world to find herself in! To find herself with basket underarm – with butter, bacon fat, eggs, and tea. And Imogen, with a loaf of bread! She shared it – tore crusts to dip in market-egg golden yolks and holster-dagger-cut slices folded and mimicking the grab of hands around butter-fried foraged mushrooms. Nutritious. Nourishing. Enriching. She shared it! Saviour. Special. Laudna must Support her. She must support her because Imogen found her, followed her from the market into the forest and shared her loaf of bread and so for their nearly-three-years she followed Imogen.

She follows Imogen. She followed Imogen as she fell into pace behind Ludinus – she must support her because she shared her loaf of bread, she must support her because she is tied to the fate of the Gods, and more importantly by extension, Exandria. She follows Imogen now, back in Zadash, teleportation-messed and mead-warmed, follows Imogen up the tavern stairs varnished with decades of spilt liquor and projected vomit and buffed with the worn leather soles of travellers and drunkards-

and otherwise, she is witness to suppose – to support.

Imogen's boots land out of syncopation with Laudna's short heels (she used to do a much better job of playing her shadow), their steps map the architecture of the building under the hollow staircase, wooden rafter meeting stone wall, perhaps pots and pans for the kitchen or other metal instruments hanging in storage under the stairs, perhaps torture devices, shackles and chains bolted to alabaster stone-

There’s a slight sway to Imogen’s hips - there always is, always was - divine feminine being, (un)holy vessel, muscle and fat and sinew and skin and magic scars intercepted by worldly stretchmarks gate only interrupted by ankles twisted on desert boulders and more-than-earned more thoroughly-deserved rest, sway resumed in sweat and salt and sex arousal rolled intentionally against Laudna’s own and there hasn’t been much time for that

Hadn’t…?

Developments. Definitions. Uncertainties.

She woke up and Imogen was holding her hand-

How many steps are there to the next floor?

Imogen stumbles slightly in the dark bottom-of-the-whisky-bottle amber lighting, no windows facing the stairwell – now hallway, as there had been none in the frozen underground ruins too, and Laudna was following her there, followed the lilac dancing sparks that she has been following for nearly three years now.

Laudna almost crashes into her back, almost crumbles and creases around Imogen like that wagon they saw in ruin, the one that had left tracks veering off of the dirt path of a mountain trail, flora flattened by wheel and chassis footprints to reveal the wagon folded in splinters around the majestic trunk of a red pine at the base of the incline.

Sorry, just gotta wrestle with the key…

the rattling of key to lock – a discernibly different sound to that of Imogen's footsteps causing the unidentified metal assumedly hanging from hooks under the stairs to jostle.

Don’t mind me- Laudna responds, and it is a pretty hilarious statement to make between the two of them-

three of them-

The door groans (four) as if it had been animated and was reacting to her distasteful pun.

Imogen takes Laudna by the hand before she has time to berate it. (you can read the rest here)

[xcelestial]

hi i know that lucy is supposed to be this blonde bombshell with no flaws whatsoever but i don't agree with her having no scars, no flaws, etc. so here we go!

she has stretchmarks. mostly along her hips and buttock area as well as on her thighs and breasts. for the most part you don't get curves with just??? no stretch marks? she has hip dips!! she has freckles littering her body. they're very light with the exception of a few. her most prominent ones are on her shoulder, her neck, and her left thigh but she does have them in multiple places, those re just her darkest ones. her hands are usually calloused from using her whip and her fingers have permanent indentures from where she holds her keys (kind of like the pinky thing with the phones irl)

[jadipose]

Sad. We need to get you more food.

lo+llll as if I need to+ eat mo+re. I wo+ke up still full o+f macaro+ni and decided to+ finish what I started...

Porrim's comfy stripey pajama pants are rolled down to allow her fat, bloated belly to swell free, the snaking tattoos on her sides broken by pale stretchmarks all over her hips. She stifles a burp, and stabs her fork into the macaroni again, nearly finished with the first plate.

[straykats]

tw: body image ; brief sui imply (im okay!! just rambling) ; disordered eating but briefly ment at the end

[fictionalmenmistress]

🌸🍡Taehyung with a chubby darling🍡🌸

In which our best boy reacts to having a bashful girlfriend who happens to be volumptous and curvy... and chubby and soft... and he finds it to be SO SEXY she has no ideaaaa! *Y/N insert story!*

Some NSFW but mostly SFW, some angsty self image views, but soft and fluffy praises. Not requested, but I felt like doing it for a little self-gratification since he'd likely be exactly like this... enjoy lovelies~ 😚

All of my work is labelled under the hashtag #fictionalmenmistress, in the tags 🌸🍡🌸

"Hey baby~" Taehyung devilishly smirks, tucking his head into your shoulder.

"AHH!" You shriek, as your boyfriend squeezes you from behind. You pull out your earbuds and pause your music, spinning around to face him before you. "You SCARED me, Taehyung!"

Taehyung softly chuckled, taking you into his arms. "Awwww my baby... I'm sorry." He cooed, not taking your scolding seriously.

You pull your face away from his gentle hands, as he leaned closer to cup your cheeks... but pouts when he's denied.

"What if a sasaeng broke in and grabbed me or something? Its scary enough to be in such a big house all by myself, you know I'm always looking over my shoulder... because I'm scared of ghosts, and stuff going 'bump' in the night."

"But not us going 'bump' in the night, right?" He mischeviously smirks, taking your hand into his, examining your face with half-closed, lulled eyes.

"Taehyungieeee-" you whine, playfully scolding him to pay attention, as a blush surfaces over your whole face. "You know I scare easily."

"I do too, precious." He quietly assures, before groaning. "OKAYYYY, I won't suprise you off guard anymore... no matter how cute or amusing your reaction may be-" he murmured in submission, letting out a long sigh. "Can't I just... hold you now?"

You blush, as he guides your hand to his lips, pressing a delicate kiss against the back of your hand. "I missed you all day... you're usually with me at the studio, or waiting with those yummy muffins after dance practice."

You giggle. "You mean the ones I lie to PD-nim about? Saying they're faux muffins, that are really veggie-based, to enhance protein and carb burning?" You ask, lifting your eyebrows in an amused way.

"Yeah, those ones..." Taehyung sighs with a pout. "All the guys love them... even Mister Bang now."

"He does, doesn't he?" You grimace, remembering the tray you made their boss recently, per-request. "I feel bad about lying, now that he thinks they're okay to eat all the time..."

"NOOO we can't lose our muffins!!" Taehyung playfully whines, clinging onto your arm. "He'll make us diet if he knowssss!"

"It sounds like you miss my muffins more than me." You smirk.

Taehyung scoffs, shaking his head, before planting several, slow kisses, up your arm.

"No, there's nothing I wouldn't give to have you by my side. Every day... muffins or no muffins." He giggles, towering over you and gazing into your eyes. "I missed you today."

"I missed you too, Tiger. I had been needing to do some artwork for my webtoon panels." You smile, booping his nose. "I'm trying to build an audience for my own work!"

Taehyung gently groans, pulling you in close by your waist. "You know... I can reccomend it to army on weverse or twitter. You've always been the best story teller I know... so its not like I'd be making up any praises about how amazing it is..."

You run your fingers through his soft hair, as he nuzzles into your neck. You can feel his breath slowing, huffing against your skin to breathe you in. He sends a shiver down your spine, slowly squeezing his hands over your hips, almost like... he's kneeding dough.

"Tae... y-you know I want to make something for myself..." you blush, as his hands sensually explore their way up your back. "I want to have self-made sucsess, doing what I love. It means a lot to me, to say that I did it, without anyone's help."

"Mmmm... my pretty little buisness CEO... I love it when you're ambitious and driven."

You scoff, wriggling in his hold. "Oh please, Tae... I'm not little, c'mon." You blush, this time out of embarrasement.

He can feel your body grow stiffened in his arms.

"Why can't I just praise you?" He whispers, almost saddened that you won't accept the admiration.

He leans back and stares into your eyes, with a small childish pout of dissapointment on his lips. His eyes are big and glossy as they penetrate your soul... like that of a puppy.

Its so wonderfully strange how he can look so intimidating and sexy sometimes... then all of a sudden so soft and baby-ish.

And right when he had you where he wanted you, softening your attention to be on him and distracted... of COURSE he would try to snag a move on you again. There went his large, manly hands... gently gripping and easing into a subtle squeeze on your waist skin... before sliding so slowly and delicately down to your bubbly buttcheeks.

Ah those thick buns and 'thicc' thighs. You love them then you hate them... they jiggle when you move, they always have. And... they have those small dimples in them. You always felt hesitant to let your boyfriend touch the soft spots, worried he may be turned off by the texture of your squishy skin, or how your body isn't tight like his own body. And yet... his gaze and hands always wandered there most... he was so needy for those areas, always trying to weasel his way into exploring them.

You were pretty confident about your big breasts, however. Those didn't make you feel like 'too much' for him. Well... besides the faded stretchmarks from them growing so quickly during middle school. Puberty... it just kinda hit you like a truck. You went from looking like a scrawny child to looking like a shapely woman with a baby doll face.

Parents would get mad at you trick or treating, assuming you were a college student dressing up and requesting candy. And those pervy older men were always such a pesty, creepy problem. All this to say, you became very aware of your body, very fast. Your other classmates were still skinny and shapeless, with more boxy frames than curvy frames, and none of the boys in your class ever seemed to be attracted to you, over the girls like them.

As Taehyung has said once before though... a young boy wants to knaw on bones, while a grown man hungers for the meat.

"Did you just compare me to meat?" You asked him after the fact.

"No! No... that's not what I..." He giggled, shaking his head. "Its just an old saying, that I only really understood when I grew up. Basically, women with shape are the sexiest to men... but teenage boys are attracted to a more child-like, thinner look." he quietly said.

His words echoed through your head, before you attention re-gathered in the moment happening now.

"You're little to me..." he innocently cooed.

Yes, I suppose height-wise you were shorter than your tall boyfriend. But you always wondered if you looked too... big... standing next to him. He was so lean... with practically no fat on his firm, toned body. But you were soft all over. And seeing Taehyung at award shows... surrounded by all of those dainty, tiny girlgroup idols... they looked like they could fit in his hands. But you... you felt so big sometimes, with your foreign genetics.

Taehyung never seemed to care, and he never said anything but praises, but you still wondered in the back of your mind. Did he think you were too much for him?

Taehyung liked a challenge. The more you shyed away, the more he pressed into you, cradling you in his grasp. (He knew the difference between you being shy versus being non-consenting, and NEVER went against your limits or desires. He read people quite well, especially you...)

"Taehyung..." you gulped, feeling your lips trembling to get the words out. "D-do you think I'm... f-fat?" You stammer. The look on his face is almost appalled, angered. Who would make you have such a false impression?

"What?" He repeated. "Fat? Absolutely NOT." He corrected, tilting up his chin confidently.

"B-but... according to Korean standards..." you muttered, beginning to ramble now that pandora's box had been opened. "I'm-"

"Don't say it." He coldly ordered. "Korean beauty standards are unrealistic and drive even the skinniest and prettiest of Korean women to get surgeries that promise an 'ideal image'. But, everyone is perfect exactly as they are. I know you know that, and you know I know that too. So, screw what advertising comanies call the 'ideal image' in my country or yours. Ideal image, my ass."

"Taehyung!" You gasp, suprised that he swore. Your boyfriend wasn't one to swear... it was a rare quality about him.

The way he worded it made you chuckle at a realization.

"Well, your butt is indeed the ideal image..." you murmured, making Taehyung smirk to see you amused and feeling a little better.

"I'm glad you think so, Jagiya~" he cooed, guiding you to the couch without his arms leaving your waist. You trusted him wholly, to guide you backwards, or anywhere.

Taehyung suddenly slipped his arm under one of your knees, making you yelp as he pulled your thigh up against the side of his body. He confidently smiles all the while, his intimate gaze never leaving your eyes. You feel his hand squeeze the thigh, and you could tell he was doing it less for support to lift you onto the couch, and moreso to feel your volumptuous form in his grasp. Ohhh he loved your thighs... your soft, lovely thighs...

He slowly leaned into you, guiding you to recline back onto the expensive, large, comfy couch.

You giggled, as he leaned all of his body onto you, squishing you playfully under him.

"Taehyung!" You laughed. "You're squishing me!"

"I want all of my body to be against your perfect body." He sweetly grinned. "There's not an inch of me that doesn't belong to you."

"Well, you're suprisingly heavy..." you playfully pout, succumbing to the comortable pressure his body was pressing into you. It was arousing, actually...

"And you're suprisingly light." He gently remarked, flipping you both so you were on top of him. You knew he didn't mean that in a bad way.

"Or you're just strong..." you sighed.

"Maybe I'm strong... but your body is perfect to me. The way you FEEL..." he began, greedily squeezing his palms over the softest parts of your thighs. "The way you LOOK..." he hungrily growled, almost an octive deeper... sending a shiver through your core as he drank in the image before him. His eyes widened as they scanned over your bouncing large breasts in his view, as he watched you sit up, straddling him as he lied there. The smile on his face was pleasured, pleased. He was a happy man to have you on top of him, no matter how light or heavy you were... he WANTED you to press your lovely form into him. "The way you walk... so bouncy and sexy... I feel jealous about how the hyungs check you out when your back is turned." His voice turned devilishly lower... deeper... as if wrathful for revenge. "Its a crime that any man gets to see your godess-like form standing before them, besided me."

"Th-they do that?" You blush, not realizing the rest of the boys saw you in that way.

"Mhmm... all of them do. Its soooo not fairrr..." he grumbled under his breath, almost purring as he took in the sight of your squishy tummy against his chest, and your juicy thighs around him. "Kitten~" he desperately sighed. "I get so HARD, just IMAGINING how you look IN clothes that cover you completely... let alone the f-fantasies of you naked~" he humms, with a hitch in his breathy whispers.

"Hh-huhh..." he sighs, his breath hitching again, as his eyes lazily roll into the back of his head, before re-drifting back down onto you. Just the remembrance gets him THAT hot and bothered??

"For realsies?" You coyly, bashfully ask.

"Of course, kitten. Would I lie to you?" He asks, raising his eyebrows with a confident smirk.

"Maybe... if it would make me feel better..." you dissapointedly assume.

He sits up, supporting himself on one of his arms, making his chest press against your breasts through your shirt. You were face to face now... just staring into one another's eyes.

"NEVER." He assured. "I would never lie to you. There's no reason for me to lie to make you feel better, Jagi. You're literally a goddess."

You feel your cheeks flume red. "G-goddess?"

"Yes! Renaissance masters didn't sculpt ideal greek godess statues with soft curves for nothing..." he grumbled, blushing at the sight of your innocent face.

"Ohh Taehyungie..." you dreamily sighed, leaning fully against his chest as he slowly lowered you both down, to lie against one another horizontally.

"The way our bodies are so different... the way yours is so soft comared to how hard and stiff mine is... its perfect." He gently cooed. "I'm surpised that you're so comfy in my arms."

"Oh Tae, you're my safe place. I love how you feel... I love how you hold me." You intimately whispered.

He stared deeply into your eyes, as a gentle smile rested on his admiring, sculpted, handsome face.

"Didn't you find me during our Love Yourself era?" He asked, cocking a brow.

"Mhmm." You responded, rapidly nodding your head up and down in such a soft, innocent way.

Taehyung giggled, endeared at your cuteness. "Okay then. I want you to love yourself... because I love you. All of you."

He gently lifted your loose shirt up enough to grab onto your waist, running his hands slowly down the sides of you, to squeeze your soft tummy in his hands, his eyes practically glistening with desire.

"Ever inch of you... every hair, every patch of skin, every tint and shade, every texture. You belong to me, and you're the sexiest being in existance. And all of me belongs to you, only you, forever. Alright?" He romantically assured, gazing hopelessly into your eyes.

The soft smile that pulled into his lips, let you know the fullest sincerity of his tone. "Okay." You smile, leaning into his lips to kiss him.

Slowly, passionately you kissed, deepening the intimate act with every second. Soon enough, your hands were running all over one another, tilting your heads to reach your tongues into the deepest parts of your mouth. Body to body... you both were perfect, together and apart, exactly as you are... he loved you.

🌸 the end 🌸 (for more, visit my hashtag: #fictionalmenmistress in the tags 🥰 requests and headcannons are also open!)

[greatbigbellies]

could you please tell us about that character you commission people with

Sure! There's, in truth, not thaaaaat much to tell? She's like a self-insert character with a lot of my qualities that I pay people to draw super pregnant because... well, I'm a trans woman who wants to see herself pregnant for kink purposes.

How pregnant is she? How many is she carrying? How overdue is she? Are they even human? How much of it is food? I don't really know! I have yet to use her in a proper writing project to solidify her lore, so she's just... there, big and round and heavy and in need of foot and belly rubs and maybe some snacks and would like to be called a snack too and I love her. She's always got stretchmarks and she's always bare bellied because how are you supposed to cover all that? Why would you want to? It's hot as hell.

I want to get some more comms of her someday, like of her in a bikini, or of her playing wii fit, or trying to put on thigh high socks past her tummy, silly, sexy things like that. But money has been very tight and life has kept me from comms which sucks, but I hope to re-engage with kink stuff soon, both creatively and monetarily.

But yeah that's like my 1 original kink OC besides the Julie the Mango Deer who hasn't had content in years. She's cute and makes me happy, especially when she's pushing the boundaries of physics and biology with that overfilled belly of hers.

[lacefuneral]

i think my main issue re: self esteem is like. there’s a lot of things that i wouldn’t care about when it came to loving another person (skin blemishes, stretchmarks, weight, cellulite, etc.) but for some reason, I don’t expect people to accept those things about me 

which is silly because, like, if someone cared about me, those things shouldn’t matter to them anyway. and it’s pointless for me to fixate on these “flaws” and berate myself for having them, because i’d never do that to another person.

i should be kinder to myself, and if you’re struggling with this, you should be kinder to yourself too.

[nuclearnerves]

might as well post these! Heres what I think Marlborough Chin looks like without his Helmet+armor. Also what he would wear if he didn’t have his helmet+armor. I like to think he’s all TYPES of fucked up from not only combat but being a fuckin human experiment so like.... most of his scars are surgical or stretchmarks from unnatural growth. I still don’t know a lot about Halo and this is probably going to be subjected to re-design as soon as I find out more about him but I am a fan of masked characters...I think John not having a face he wants to show people would be a fun thing to explore. We shall see when I get more into the series!

[kaastargaming]

Nina Caliente (Townie Makeover)

CC usage list: Skin: Kaastar Amber Skin Overlay,PralineSims Cleavage Overlay, Simbience Sunkiss'd Freckles, Srxanxious Moodlet Ratazana Heavy Butt Stretchmarks + Lovehandlestretchmarks, PralineSims Aphrodite skin overlay Tattoos: - Eyes: DFJ Whisper Eyes Eyebrows: GPME Gold F Eyebrows G10 Make-up: RemusSirion Eyeliner 30, RemusSirion Lipstick 233 Proteomics, Seleng Eyeshadow N50, Grimcookies Charli Eyeshadow Hair: Nucrests Hair Yoona Hair V1 Beard: - Bodyhair: - Extra: HFO TS4 Shoulder Sliders, HFO TS4 Torso Hips Height, LUUMIA mod Hip Shape, SimTone Pearl Teeth, Obscurus Eye Presets 1, Obscurus F Body Preset 2, Obscurus Lips Slider N2+N5, Extra ?: Tanlines and breastveins from WildGuy (Loverslab) used in pictures.

Everyday: Shirt: Ridgeport Seychelles Top Shorts: SimpleSimmer TLM Denim Shorts Shoes: Mauvemorn Amber Sandals Nails: PS Nails N24

Formal: Dress: Sul Sul Hun Florence Dress Shoes: Base Game

Athletic: Top: ImpressoEspresso 400meters top Shorts: KchanSims SpaDay Shorts Recolor Shoes: Darte77 Vans Old School

Sleep: Bra: PH SIMS bathing suit Panties: Darte77 Thong Pantie

Party: Turtleneck: Savvy X Grim Clothing ribbed crop top Skirt: Grimcookies EP09 Denim Skirt Shoes: Mauvemorn Amber Sandals Bracelet: Base Game

Swimwear: Swimsuit: SLL Body Oceane Swimsuit Shoes: Mauvemorn Amber Sandals Hat: Marigold F Acc Back Ribbon Wide Floppy Hat

Hot Weather: Top: Laupipi Haizea Skirt: Island Living Shoes: Nolan Sims Wedges Redux Rings / Watch: Base Game

Cold Weather: Jacket: Sentate AW20 Margot Jacket No Top Turtleneck: Cubersims Alejandro Turtleneck Pants: GrennLlamas Brats Kool Kat Pants Boots: Saurus Nougat Boots

Note: Tray file does NOT include custom content unless I made it myself. That would be illegal distribution. Some content links might change/disappear over time. Try googling for the name if that happens. Please do not re-upload. Thanks for your support! <3

Dowload Tray File on Patreon (CAS+VIP patreon only)

Buy me coffee <3

[kojinnie]

the fact that i'm on my period rn and my dysmenorrhoea was so bad yesterday 💀 (you know what happened yesterday 😂) my boobs was itching so i gotta scratch it but it hurts so BAD 😭

[RE:] Period/hormones talk

iane how are you feeling today? better? was quite worried bc i have a friend with dysmenorrhoea and one time she passed out in her room due to the pain but everyone thought she was just napping :( i hope you're feeling better!

anyway urgh yes, the itch too. but for me it's the itch on the butt. used to scratch it and my mum said it's the reason for my stretchmarks lmao 😅😅😅

[fantasmalforces]

Delphine Headcanons

// She deserves it-

One of Delphine’s most prized possessions is a weighted bear she made out of Todd’s old baby blanket. It brings her a lot of comfort to hold when she finds herself in distress.

Fox Delphine curls up into a tight little ball when she sleeps and uses her tail as a pillow.

Delphine’s elemental tie to fire means she doesn’t like the water. Rain unnerves her, she’s averse to traveling on boats, likes to avoid rivers, lakes, and oceans, and dislikes being wet.

On the contrary, she loves air travel or simply walking to destinations.

Delphine’s fire and earth elemental ties mean bending metal is easy. She can navigate terrain easily and stop fire from burning things or spreading. She can also gain a little extra airtime when jumping, gliding, or falling. Additionally, she doesn’t suffer any injuries or harm from falling.

Delphine has a tendency to wrap her tail around herself for comfort. She holds onto it when she feels he needs grounding. She’ll also wrap it around others when she’s feeling intimate or protective of them.

Delphine loves Frank Sinatra and she will shamelessly sing and dance to him.

Delphine can play violin, ukulele, piano, and flute. Violin is definitely her favorite instrument though. She has a custom made one for herself that she sometimes uses to re-enact the band scene from Titanic when she thinks she’s alone plays.

Delphine loves playing with hair. She loves styling her hair, trying new things, and in a relationship, she adores being able to take care of her partner’s hair and make it look and feel nice for them.

Delphine is heavy on shoulder, neck, and jaw kisses. It’s a species thing. She loves kissing upwards along a partner’s shoulder, up their neck, and along their jaw, chin, and cheeks.

Delphine frequently does yoga. It’s a way to help her exercise, remain calm and vigilant, and it just feels like a nice thing to do to relax in her mind.

She has a more active regiment that involves running, climbing, gymnastics, and weightlifting.

Delphine has stretchmarks along her waist and thighs, as well as a couple of old scars from her time in the service. She’s gotten some comments about them from time to time, but she doesn’t really pay them any mind. On occasion, she will get self-conscious about them but for the most part, she’s accepted the way she looks.

Delphine really likes the taste of honey. She puts it on everything: toast, ham, donuts, cookies, fried fish.

She also really likes dairy products like milk and cheese.

Delphine is a bit of a collector. She collects anything that really catches her eye. Anything. She’ll browse old antique stores, yard sales, and knick-knack shops looking for anything she thinks is cute, unique, funny, or worth keeping for the sake of joy. She can be a bit of an impulse buyer, but she thankfully very responsible financially. 

Delphine’s role in the service was a combat medic. During her service, she was hoping to study to become a doctor. Unfortunately, she was discharged before she could ever get a formal degree. Still, she has exceptional medical prowess and will put it to good use wherever she can.

[kanerboo]

I’m re reading the fic while I wait for a new chapter and just got to the part where patrick is all “I LOVE WHEN JONNY RUBS MY BUMP W STRETCHMARK CREAM AS MUCH AS HE LOVES IT BUT THIS IS JUST BUDDIES. WERE NOT IN LOVE” and i wanna shake him so badly!!! you absolute FOOL. buddies don’t just do that sort of thing for each other. ugh i love these idiots

he is SUCH A FOOL, anon! he really, genuinely believes that jonny's good to him and takes care of him and treats him well only bcos he's carrying jonny's babies and jonny wants the twins born healthy and well. CAN YOU IMAGINE. patrick’s brain is only big when it comes to hockey, clearly!

[sapphos-darlings]

Tips for the women out there who wish they were more GNC but are afraid to live the dream:

Giving up the feminine routines that exhaust you and which you don’t want to carry on with essentially only stings once. Let’s talk about shaving: few of us enjoy shaving. The feel of smooth skin can be enjoyable, but I’ve rarely met a woman who thinks it’s worth the effort it takes to stay smooth and hairless every day of your lives. Face it: this is not the natural state of your body, and the expectation that you meet this unnatural and frankly pedophilic standard is ridiculous. But you can’t just drop it, can you? People will stare at your hairy legs. You can’t go out with your legs exposed anymore if you stop shaving them. And even if you cover your legs, people will notice your arm hair. You might be WOC, and your hair is not only judged for being there in the first place, but being there so obviously, and you’re not only going against the current as a woman but as someone whose worth is already questioned in our society even when you do everything they ask of you. You’re already told that you’re never quite good enough, and more than just your own reputation hangs on you. Doesn’t it? The truth is, the vast majority of the people you pass by in this life will not care about you, hairy or otherwise. And the people who do are either not worth your time to begin with, for example the men who demand that you bow to their desires, or they need to mind their own business and cannot dictate how you exist in your own body, such as your friends, coworkers or other women in your family. Maybe you can’t shut them out, but you can resist, you can and you should question them. How are you bad for being how you were meant to be as a human being? What material, spiritual benefit does a beauty routine and the constant outside eye on yourself to judge whether you’re performing properly bring you, as opposed to all the other things you could be focusing on instead? They might call you ugly or say that you’re letting yourself go. This is social conditioning talking, and is not the truth of it. Your body was made to be a certain way - letting yourself exist as you naturally are is neither ugly nor lazy. It’s not a crime. In fact, demanding that someone alters herself for aesthetics every single day of her life is a horrible thing to ask of somebody: you are essentially told that you’re not good enough as a person, only as an object. Your worth is not tied to how desirable you are to the male gaze. Especially as a wlw, the best thing you can do for yourself is reject the male desire and the male standards such as hairlessness and the expensive, often painful, beauty routines. Re-evaluate everything you do for your looks, figure out which things you’re really doing for yourself, why you’re doing them, and how they help you - if they do - in your everyday life. Choose convenience and comfort and real confidence over the safety of conforming. Your womanhood and your personhood are not dependent on how well you perform the role of a sex object, a decoration. You are human.

Now, you’ve done something that seems radical: maybe you stopped shaving, or you shaved your entire head. Maybe you wore something you wanted to instead of something that makes you look beautiful. You expect repercussions. They might come, and they might sting hard the first few times, but you’ll learn quickly that you do not die. There are no cosmic consequences for unshaved legs or a makeupless face, or for cropped hair, or for wearing a pair of comfortable shoes that don’t make your feet ache and sting. God herself will not descend from the skies and smite you for your disobedience. The world is, in fact, quite silent - and you may feel more comfortable in your own skin already, even if you face consequences. After all, words are just words, but what you feel and how you carry yourself are your material reality, your whole perspective to this world. This is your point of view. You’ve made it more comfortable for you. You’ve made the vessel for all that you experience here better for yourself. Who else matters? Or maybe you’re actually just itchy, because regrowing your hair might irritate your skin for a while, much like breaking it open with microcuts with the razor would. The ends of your body hair are sharp, and the stubble doesn’t bend with your body. It’s like a thousand needles digging into your skin. Use lotion or oil on it - body safe, of course, especially if we’re talking about the genital area - or take a bath every now and then to soften the hairs, but remember not to dry your skin needlessly. The itchiness will go away with time. You may notice you smell less, too. Battling against your body odours gets easier with more fluff here and there to regulate your skin’s bacteria. The rewards aren’t instant, but they’re there... other than for the relief you’ll feel for not having to wake up early or spend time you’d rather be watching Netflix by performing a routine that demands your obedience every single day, or else. That one comes for free and it comes the second you decide to desist. Else what, you’ve asked it. And nothing happened. You’ll get less comments about your changes over time. People are very resistant to change and nonconformity scares them; stepping out of line will always make others nervous around you. But they’ll learn, as you do, that what you’ve done is in fact quite harmless. Your body will feel more comfortable. Your confidence will grow once you realise that you are good the way you are, and that the world will not collapse around you if you stop adhering to rules written for somebody else’s pleasure.

But surely, no one will love a woman who’s not beautiful - and you can’t be beautiful without makeup, without long and well-maintained hair, without manicured nails, heels and a thin body. Right? Look around you. Look at real women, women who haven’t been rendered mere Barbie lookalikes by the powers of Photoshop and extensive cosmetic surgery. She’s fat, and she still has a boyfriend. She’s got bags under her eyes, she’s got wrinkles, and she’s engaged to marry her wife-to-be this coming June. It’s like those around her don’t care she’s “let herself go”. And she’s muscular, mannish, everything you were taught was wrong or unattainable for women - and she’s adored by women all over the internet. People share her pictures with that emoji with the heart eyes, all over. “I want to be like her.” “I wish I was that brave.” Maybe you said the same thing when you saw her before, before you did what you’ve done now, before you decided to become like her. Who’s in the wrong here? These women who have committed the cardinal sins of breaking against the laws of objectification, or maybe the laws themselves, this expectation that you change yourself to be desired? Desired by who? Who is this invisible spectator in your life you so desperately wish to please? Do you love him? Does he love you? Do you want him? Question him; change him to her. What does she want from you? When I ask the trapped girl within me what she wants, she answers “freedom”. To be herself, to do what she wants, to wear what she wants, to be comfortable and safe. She wants to be seen for the human person she is, to be respected for what she can do, not for a plastic body detached from our mammalian reality of stretchmarks, curves, wrinkles, layers of fat and the little fur that keeps her clean and dry and regulates her temperature. So your mother or your sister or the man you work with told you that you look sick today, or that people will feel ashamed by you because you’ve let your leg hair get out of control. Ask them why does it matter - who is the audience for your performance? Maybe they reply: “it’s basic hygiene.” If it’s basic hygiene, why is it only expected from women?

You can prioritize your comfort and your needs over this commercialized idea of “beauty”. There is no wrong way to be a woman. Love your body. Wear what you want. Perform for yourself only. If someone won’t love you for what you don’t provide, find someone whose love is worth your time and not dependent on your performance in a full-time reality show. Someone will love you for who you are, because you are a human being in a human body, and anyone who demands you to be something else is out of their mind. The cardinal sins of womanhood and attractiveness are a lie imposed onto you to sell you products and beat you down every day so that you won’t question whether the pain and shame you endure is justified or realistic. Fat women, thin women, women of colour, hairy women, petite women, “masculine” women, “feminine” women, non-conforming women are all women, we’re all proper women, we’re all good enough, and we were all made to be jiggly, we were made to be fuzzy, we were made to be rough around the edges, to have smells, to have desires, to mature and show the signs of our maturity. There is nothing wrong with the way nature created you.

[purposology-blog]

Scars. Stretchmarks. Birthmarks. Acne. They don't determine your self-worth. Stop being so hard on yourself. Your kindness. Your gentle spirit. Your brilliance. Your talents. These are the things that make you unique. These are the things that last forever. These are the things that people really treasure. Love those traits about yourself. You need to re-fall in love with yourself. When that happens, you will appreciate the masterpiece that you are.

@purposology