GIMME GIMME GIMME!!!!!

GIMME GIMME GIMME!!!!!

✌️currently working on Live a Little, Give a Little - Part 2 so here's a little sneak peak:

18+ ONLY (Spoilers under cut)

----

“That’s it baby, come on, Come for Daddy,” Joel groans.  He doesn't care that he’s jerking off in a dark room by himself like some horny teen to a brightly lit screen of his baby momma that doesn’t even know him. Yet. 

You moan directly into the camera, mouth agape as you thrust the dildo in and out, hitting that sweet spot that has your eyes rolling. You spread your legs over the chair, and the skin strewn across your swollen belly tightens before a gush of liquid squirts out of your pussy.

“Fuck Daddy, making my pussy squirt so fuckin good! M so full my cunt can’t hold all my naughty juices, too full with your cock and your cum and your baby!!”

Haggard groans rumble in his throat as his cock erupts into jets of white ribbons, shooting along the computer screen and covering your face as you smile and lick the dildo clean. He milks his sack of the last little spurts of cum before sighing and leaning back against the chair, dreaming about painting your womb white again with his next load. 

When you come down from your high, and the last of the generous tips come flowing in, you usually rub along your swollen tummy. Sometimes it’s subconscious, like you’re comforting your child, other times it’s for the show, twirling around and pushing it out to show everyone how big you’ve gotten. Your voice centers him back to reality.

“And before I forget, I have one final announcement: After our little baby is born, I will be retiring.” You smile softly, but there’s a sense of gratitude mixed with sadness. “I know! It’s been such a great journey, and I’ve never felt soooo good about something as amazing as this, and to share it all with you is more than I could have ever hoped. So as a final send off, I’m doing one last exhibition piece.”

Joel leans, ignoring the stain of his cum drying along his shirt and smudged into his laptop.

 “If you’re out there, Daddio, I want to meet you. Catch me in the same area, around the same time—and no I’m not going to tell you all exactly where on here! ! If you’re there, you’ll know—and if not, I will be streaming the whole thing live this time so don’t miss out! Even if I can’t find my blessing baby daddy, I will certainly still be putting on a show for however many lucky bastards get to grope a pregnant, single slut like me!”

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Tagging those that expressed interest in pt 2... its coming!

@princesatracionera @mellowcakiesworld @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @survivingandenduring @dovesgirl lixaftermidnight @puduvallee @ghostslillady @joeldjarin @theoraekenslover @pascalscoffin @fairytale07 @missladym1981 @bitchesuntitled @brittmb115 @zliteraturehoe @sheepdogchick3 @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @lostfleurs @shadowsaz @supernaturalstilinski @batsodapants @pasta-emulsion @pedroisghosties @fairlyang @poeticpascal @pedroshotwifey @amyispxnk @ghostlovesbaguettes @itsokbbygrl @lovehappyloki

Thanks for reblogging @gangrelispunk ❤️

Paper Rings

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader

Warnings: MDNI blog in general is 18+ go on now, get. Fluff, innuendos, panicked Marcus, cussing, think that's it?

Summary: Marcus wants to ask you an important question.

Mood board made by the amazing @jay-zzle, divider made by @saradika-graphics

Prompt by: @swiftispunk, let me know what ya think!

thank you @notjustjavierpena for taking a look at this and helping me with it! ❤️

Masterlist

Tonight’s the night, Marcus thinks on his drive home. He’s going to ask her to marry him. After their first date, he knew deep down she was the one. Three years later and the feeling hasn’t changed. He’s asked her dad’s permission, the ring has been sitting in his dresser for months now, the reservations have been made at Mastro’s Steakhouse. He clicks the remote for the garage as he pulls into the driveway, taking a deep breath in and out before getting out of the car and going into the house.

You hear the door open downstairs; Marcus must be home. Just in time too; he had told you earlier this morning about making reservations somewhere and to dress pretty like you always do. Working on the finishing touches of your makeup, you see his reflection in the bathroom mirror smiling at you, leaning against the doorway.

“Hey babe,” you greet him with a warm smile, “I am almost done. Is there anything you need to do to get ready?”

“Not much,” Marcus responds, walking away from the doorway to the dresser, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you’re still in the bathroom, and slowly opening the drawer he knows the ring is in, “Need to use the bathroom before we go and might change my suit jacket.” His hand creeps to the very back of the dresser, feeling for that velvet box he knows all too well is there. His fingers touch it, grasping it in his hand, quickly pulling it out, and shoving it into his jacket pocket just as you’re leaving the bathroom. He shuts the drawer quickly and turns to look at you.

“What are you doing?” You ask, giving him a suspicious look.

“Nothing,” he replies, raising his eyebrows, noticing the lone pair of socks on the floor that escaped the drawer as he was pulling the ring out, “Was going to change my socks. My feet feel gross.”

“Okay?” You giggle, shaking your head, getting your shoes on, “Weirdo.”

“Shush, you love me and wouldn’t have it any other way.” He grins at you, picking up the socks and going to sit on the bed.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” You grin, “Will you help me with the back of my dress?”

He helps zip your dress up, giving the back of your neck a light kiss, shucking off his suit jacket, and laying it on the bed on his way to the bathroom.

“I’ll meet you downstairs.”

__

“Where are we going?” You ask, looking over at Marcus, waiting for the red light to change.

“Now what’s the fun in telling you when it is supposed to be a surprise?” He says, squeezing your thigh, “Patience.”

You roll your eyes and scoff. The car starts moving again when the light turns green. Marcus is so meticulous in everything he does. Always has a plan, a certain way of doing things, likes to be spontaneous to an extent but usually always a set schedule. You love those things about him, he’s the comfort in the chaos that life can sometimes be. He pulls  into one of the fanciest restaurants in Washington D.C.

“Oh my god, Marcus,” you whisper, “How on earth did you get a reservation?”

“I was able to make some calls,” he says, stepping out of the vehicle, making his way to your door. “Had some people who owed me some favors.” He explains, opening your door for you and offering his hand. You take his hand and let him lead you. Handing off his keys to the valet. Walking into the restaurant you are greeted by the hostess.

“Good evening, sir,” she says with a bright smile, “Name?”

“Should be under Pike.”

“Ah yes, right this way.” She says, marking in the book and grabbing a couple menus before leading the way.

You cannot believe your eyes looking around at this place. There is a bar, a live jazz band playing, and plenty of couples sitting at the other tables.

“Is this table okay, Mr. Pike?” The hostess asks when she stops at an empty table.

“It’s perfect, thank you.” Marcus smiles, stepping over to the chair closest to you and sliding it out for you.

“Your waiter will be right with you.” She says, giving a small nod setting the menus down on the table.

You sit in the chair, grabbing the menu, watching Marcus move to the other side of the table to sit down across from you.

“So, Mr. Pike,” you smirk, “What on earth is the special occasion?”

“Just wanted to take you somewhere nice,” he replies, cocking an eyebrow, “Is that not allowed?”

“You’re up to something.”

“I am not,” Marcus grins, opening his menu, “What do you think you’ll have?”

“I’m thinking the salmon, although those crab cakes would be a good start, don’t you think?”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

“Good evening and welcome to Mastro’s Steakhouse, I’m Jared and I’ll be your waiter this evening.” A young man who approaches the table says, “Can I get you two something to drink?”

“I want whatever wine pairs the best with the New York strip, sweetheart?”

“You know, I’ll think I’ll do the same thing he’s doing, Mr. Wine Connoisseur over there,” you laugh, “Whatever pairs well with the salmon dish.”

“Alright, I will ask the chef what he thinks would be the best.”

“Oh!” You say as Jared starts to leave the table, “Crab cakes! We want the crab cakes as our appetizer.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

—

It’s now or never, Marcus thinks. The evening went exactly how he wanted it to, the meal was fantastic, the wine amazing, the dessert ordered to go will be arriving soon. This is the perfect moment to ask her.

“You know,” Marcus says, grabbing your hands, rubbing them softly, “You were right, I do have something special planned for us.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Marcus takes a deep breath in and lets it out, “Babe, I knew from the moment that I met you I wanted to be with you.”

He pulls your hands to his lips and gives them a soft kiss.

“After our first date, I knew you were the one I wanted to be with for the rest of my life.”

He stands up and gets down on one knee. You can hear people begin to whisper around you, watching the scene before you unfold.

“Oh my god” You say holding his hand tighter, “Marcus?”

“Baby, I love you so very much and I—” he says, patting the pocket of his suit jacket. “Fuck.”

“Babe?”

“No, no, no,” Marcus says, frantically searching his suit jacket and pants. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

“Marcus,” you say, holding his face, “Look at me.”

He looks up at you with those big brown eyes you love. “I swear there’s a ring. I changed my jacket not even think—"

“Babe, I don’t care.” You smile, interrupting his panicked ramblings, “Ask me.”

“But the ring?”

“Don’t care, ask me.”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck slotting your mouth against his. You can hear several of the other patrons clapping.

“Congratulations!” Jared says, returning to your table with your dessert.

“Thank you!” You say, beaming with joy.

—

On the drive home you can’t stop smiling like an idiot while holding Marcus’ hand. This is everything you dreamed about as a little girl; finding the perfect person to spend your life with and that is Marcus through and through.

“I still can’t believe I forgot the fucking ring!” Marcus says, shaking his head.

“Babe, you could’ve asked me with a ring made of paper and I would’ve said yes,” you laugh, “That’s the last thing I care about.”

“Well, a paper ring would be better than nothing!”

Approaching a gas station on the side of the road, an idea popped into your head.

“Stop!” You yelp, “Stop at that gas station!”

Marcus gives you a sideways look but pulls in regardless. Never one to refuse your requests.

“Cash?” You ask with your sweetest smile.

“Why’d we stop here?” He asks, rolling his eyes while getting his wallet out and handing you a twenty. You just give him a mischievous grin while getting out of the car. The door dings when you step into the gas station, making a beeline to the candy aisle and finding exactly what you were looking for: A bag of ring pops. Unable to contain your excitement, you let out a little squeal while grabbing them and head to the front.

“That’ll be $4.98.” The cashier says after ringing up your candy. You slap the twenty down on the counter and grab the bag running out.

“Thank you! Keep the change!” You shout behind you.

Getting back to the car, you see Marcus shaking his head trying to hold in his laughter. You make quick work of opening the bag, getting one singular ring pop out, and opening that as well, tapping on his window quickly, telling him to get out of the car.

“What on earth are you doing, honey?” Marcus laughs, opening the car door.

“You said something would be better than nothing,” you laugh, “Here’s something!”

You hand him the ring pop. He shakes his head looking at it.

“Baby,” Marcus starts looking up at you. “A ring pop? Really?”

“Marcus!” You huff, crossing your arms, “Are you gonna ask me?”

“Here?!” Marcus looks at you with surprise, looking at the ground, “Babe, this is a gas station parking lot!”

“And?”

“Babe, my pants—“

“Marcus Vincent Pike,” You scold, giving him a look that he knows means business.

“Okay, okay,” He says laughing, grabbing your hand, sliding out of the seat of the car with one knee on the ground, “Baby, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

“Duh!” You say, jumping up and down as he slides the ring pop onto your finger. “It’s beautiful!”

Marcus bursts into laughter as you shove the ring pop into your mouth. “Tasty too!” You say after popping it out of your mouth.

Marcus grabs your hand, lifting it to his mouth, pushing the ring pop in, hollowing his cheeks a little, letting out a soft sigh. You can feel your mouth getting dry while you watch him suck on the ring pop. The makeshift engagement ring makes a soft pop as he lets it leave his mouth.

“I can think of something that’s sweeter,” he says with a sly smile and wink, letting go of your hand.

YES! YES TO ALL OF THIS! Chefs fucking kiss! 😍

Dieter Measures Up feat. Dieter Bravo & Cookie (f!reader)

a HeftyThrowaway one shot drabble | Rated: 18+ | word count: 834 warnings: weight gain, grinding, Dieter being a needy mess A/N: thank you @toxicanonymity for celebrating 900 friendos in the bistro! and yes... this is a bit more than a drabble.

Dieter groaned. He looked over the email from his manager, suggesting in the firmest way possible that wouldn’t compromise their job, that he needed to wear an actual suit to the premier. To add to his grief, they put in bold right at the end before signing off: YOU ARE NOT WEARING ANYTHING REMOTELY RESEMBLING SOMETHING YOU COULD SLEEP IN.

Included in the message was also the requirement to get fitted for the suit because they knew he hadn’t lost any of the weight he’d gained for the role. Rolling his eyes, he flipped the bird at his phone, tossed it into the pocket of his robe, and pulled the tube of raw cookie dough from the fridge. He forwent the spoon, taking a big bite of the dough, and leaned over the counter thinking.

An idea hit him: he could just send the measurements that were taken when he arrived on set to shoot ten months ago. He smiled as he pulled out his phone and scrolled through his notes before it dawned on him that he had to be measured and then remeasured a few times over the course of the shoot because his costumes kept shrinking. As he wondered who he needed his assistant to contact to track down the measurements, another email arrived from his management team: DON’T ASK FOR PRIOR MEASUREMENTS. THEY WON’T BE ACCURATE ANYMORE.

He scowled at his screen. “Mother fucker.”

*****

It had been a while since he’d been to a tailor, normally opting for off the rack because prior to this role, he was within the sample size range. He was pretty sure he still was. Sure, he had less of the iconic ‘slutty little waist’ and sure, his belly had stuck out when he wasn’t close to being full, but there was no way he was that much bigger.

At least he thought that until the seamstress, an older European woman, came out and began to measure him. Every time he felt the measuring tape pull tight against his body followed by the older woman calling out a number much higher than he anticipated, his body reacted. Not negatively – no, quite the opposite. He was getting hard.

Even after the project wrapped, he kept you on as his private cook, telling you that now he’d had a bite of his ‘Cookie’, there was no way he could have any other. And while nothing was official between you, he hadn’t fucked around with anyone else, and even cleared out his extensive vintage clown pornography collection from the guesthouse and set you up in there so you could live on sight. He loved the praise you gave when he finished his meals and he craved the look you gave when he sat back, belly heavy and sitting on his lap.

He needed to get home. Now.

****

You stood at the door to the pantry, debating on whether to make burritos or chicken korma for dinner that evening when you heard the door from the garage open and slam loudly. Before you could ask if everything was okay, Dieter was behind you, shoving you against the wall, his front to your back.

“Fuck, you do your job so good.”, he grunted, biting softly into your neck. His whole thick body pinned you and he bucked his hips, seeking friction.

“Most bosses offer a raise… not a full body slam.”, you breathed back with a smile.

“Most bosses…”, he panted, “aren’t grateful… enough.”

“Dieter… we can go to the bedro-“

“No… right… oh fuck… right here’s fine…”, he grunted with a whine. He ground his hips, and his painfully hard erection finally found the right angle against your left ass cheek.

“Dee! The couch! Not here!”

His breathing picked up and he bit the crux of your neck and shoulder with a whine. “Just… almost… need this…”

 You pushed your body from the wall with all your strength, but it was no use; Dieter’s additional weight had made his physical self just as stubborn as his personality.

“Got me so… fuckin’ big… Olga… measured me… no idea… who I was… said I was a… a fat man…”, he whimpered in grunts, breath panting over the skin he’s made wet on your neck and shoulder.

You couldn’t help but moan in response, and his arm snaked around to your front, cupping your legging clad mound, and pulling your ass against him harder. It was almost painful, but also euphoric. Dieter’s breaths became faster and carried high pitch whines with them.

“I promise… I’ll fuck… I’ll fuck you later… after dinner… just need… to cum n-oh fuck!”

You felt a warmth through your leggings on your ass cheek and his whines hit heights that only dogs could hear. When he finally stilled, his body relaxed enough that you could turn around and face him. He gave you a goofy half grin with heavy lidded eyes.

“Now that we got that out of the way, I’m starved. What’s for dinner?”

This is just fucking gross.

I would prefer to message you one on one @ayadrafts but you have me blocked, so I am posting this publicly to ask that you take this fic down. This is a verbatim ripoff of my fic “Phone a Friend”.

I don’t know how to explain how unbelievably shitty that is of you to do to me. Seeing my work blatantly copied without any credit or acknowledgment is not only disrespectful but downright infuriating. And then you block me to cover your tracks? I pour my heart and soul into every fic that I create, as does every writer. And I think you know that.

Maybe I inspired you, I don’t know. Whatever the case, this is outright theft. You’re demonstrating a complete disregard for intellectual property and artistic integrity. It's unacceptable.

Plagiarism, what you did, undermines the hard work and dedication that goes into crafting a piece of work. It’s brainstorming, outlining, writing, editing, making moodboards, bouncing ideas off friends, that all goes into how I create a fic from scratch, something that you’re attempting to benefit from. Your decision to plagiarize my work not only disrespects me as a writer but also diminishes the value of your own work, if you even write anything of your own.

Please take this down. You hurt me and I don’t deserve this.

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Helping A Friend (18+)

Eddie Munson x roommate!fem reader Summary: Eddie is sick of you keeping him up late at night with your hand between your thighs) Warnings

This most certainly helps! Makes me feel like I’m on the right track as well ❤️ Thank you so much for always trying to help me and others!!!! You’re the best 🤩

Congrats on 500! 🥳🎉 I’m not surprised at all that you have that many followers cause you are a badass and have amazing work 😘

💌-What is your process for writing? Do you do outlines? Do you have certain things you do to prepare yourself to write?

Thank you so much DD!!!

It's been so fun getting to know you and I'm so glad to be able to share this wonderful fandom with you.

Thank you for asking about my writing process! I hope my answer is a little helpful for you (if not a little bit long-winded).

I actually always start my fics by making a moodboard. While I'm making it, I'm thinking about details I want to include (besides the main ideas) and that helps my moodboard take shape and gets me in the right frame of mind. The moodboard can always be edited down the road if details end up getting changed, but that's how I start.

Then I start taking notes. I did an outline once but I prefer to go less formal now because I add details and the outline format was not conducive to that. I write major notes down as I've thought of them and then as I go through it a second and third time, I add in details.

I often think about certain parts of the story like scenes from a movie, and I like to think about them in detail, with specific dialogue. So I will write those things out too (roughly) and then I can go back later to fine-tune that whole scene. I will build my story around these scenes - them being the major plot points - and the rest gets filled in as I go along. I also get to know my characters more as I go along.

As an example - This scene (from chapter 6 of Devotion) - the highlighted dialogue was on my mind from the VERY beginning of this series conception back in December. I wrote it one of the very first days I was making notes on this story. The first picture (in green) is the raw stuff I put into my notes and below it (highlighted with yellow) is the final posted scene.

So yeah... I just take notes and add in details each time I go through, focus on main plot points (or scenes), and then write around them. I hope that helps!

Ohhh!!! How did you know I’d wanna see something from Frankie and Mouse?! 😍🫠😍🫠

Beeeeef!!!!! I’m so proud of you for reaching 900 followers! You deserve it so much ❤️ You are so talented with the way you can word things, write the best chubby!Pboy, and I’m so glad that I’m getting know you better! 😍

Now! Show me something you’re working on!!! 🍳

I love how you meet my feral-ness and push for more. So glad we met, Deedle!

You wanna WIP? Lemme see what I have in in the ol' Test Kitchen... Ah yes! From deep in the cellar, we have a sample from something called: FM - WIP #15 - Vacay - CF&M... [i know.. i need to work on the title... but that's future kiki's problem]

Yours in sin,

Beefro👌🥩💜

When you and Frankie had agreed to completely letting him go wild on your all-inclusive two-week cruise, you couldn’t have imagined this. Not in your wildest dreams. It was the end of day two and Frankie was currently sitting back, leaning against the headboard of your king-sized bed, belly completely distended. For two days straight, he’d done nothing but eat at the buffet and bask in the sun, and it showed. His skin was a beautiful bronze, and his stomach was round and taut. “Mouse, baby… can you grab me a beer? I’m thirsty…”, he asked with a sheepish smile. You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms in mock-irritation. “Oh? Can’t get it yourself?” He chuckled, his tummy bouncing a bit as he did, then he winced and rubbed his hands tenderly along his sides. “Baby… please…”, he whined. You smiled and grabbed a beer from the mini-fridge, walked over to the bed, and crawled onto what was available of his lap. You popped the lid off the beer and handed it to him, your hands then gently rubbing his very full tummy. “Feeling pretty full…”, you cooed as you applied gentle pressure to his tummy, under his belly button, and gave it a bit of a bounce. It didn’t move all that much.  “You sure you got room for a beer, Frankie? Belly’s feeling tight…” He took a drink and nodded with a grin. “Yeah… I got room. Didn’t eat that much.”