LilyTumBunny

Lily | 25 | she/they | I don't rp | ask box is open

[lilytumbunny]

Hi there! You can call me Lily.

This is an 18+ space.

｡☆✼★ about the blog ★✼☆｡

❌ DNI ❌

minors - If you are under the age of 18 / do not have your age listed, I will block you. This is an 18+ space.

pro-life, terfs, transphobes.

I could list a million things but the basic rule is: don't be a bigot. On here we do not support racists. We support queer rights and feminism, and believe in basic human rights.

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Hi, hello, nice to meet you! I'm Lily. I'm in my mid 20s, use she/they pronouns. I used this picrew for my avatar.

I am aromantic & asexual. I personally do not like anything sexual that's directed at/involves/is about me.

I do not RP but don't be scared to send asks.

Most of my posts come from my queue.

Some clarifications since we live in a rancid political climate: everything on here is fantasy/kink.

Underneath is a list of things I am and am not into.

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⭐things I like⭐

pregnancy (any gender)

labour & birth

a/b/o

big bellies (incl. unrealistic things)

long and hard labour

overdue & multiples pregnancies

pregnancy pains

⭐things I'm okay with⭐

breeding kink

oviposition

bdsm

pregnant sex

consensual non-consent

hyperpregnancy

orgasmic birth

⭐absolute no for me⭐

minors

non-con

vore/bursting/unbirth etc.

beastiality (furry/anthro is alright though)

misgendering/detransitioning

miscarriage/stillbirth/child death/etc. I like difficult births but none of my content will involve harm to the child as a result. Realism? We don't know her.

death in childbirth/serious harm to the parent

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Here's a link if you want to make your own.

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I have a Deviantart @TumBunny where I save stories and art related to pregnancy.

I also have a list of stories from other sites that I like.

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⭐my tag list⭐

#lily recs reading - stories I like

#lily recs listening - audios I like

#lily writes stuff - my writing

#lily drabbles - my shorter posts/drabbles

#about lily - personal posts/things that apply to me

#preg - involves pregnancy

#fpreg - (trans)female pregnancy

#mpreg - (trans)male pregnancy

#nbpreg - nonbinary pregnancy

#hyperpreg

#irl preg - pictures/gifs/videos of real life pregnancy & rp.

#birth kink

#labor kink

#birth denial

#breeding kink

#creature preg - anything involving non-human pregnancy

#egg preg - oviposition

#multiples preg

#omega preg - pregnancy in the omegaverse

#overdue preg

#preg art

#preg prompts - writing prompts or things that inspire me

#preg sex - invovles pregnant sex

#rapid preg

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Abortion is healthcare & I am pro-choice.

Everything I share on here is fantasy.

[chunkowitz]

heaby…

[chunkowitz]

oof

[chunkowitz]

imagine trying to hide a belly that’s 7 months pregnant with twins…

[chunkowitz]

How big do you think you can go? With your self insert and your char's size in general

It really depends. I don’t like starting off super big, but when I do sequences I always want to go bigger and bigger haha

[chunkowitz]

Any chance to see more of decuplets dude?

[chunkowitz]

for anon who requested oblivious preg guy

second pic that got flagged: https://sta.sh/01uskbed2qgj

[chunkowitz]

oof

[imagineyourepregnant]

Requests #470

1. a 28 yr old mother of ten is pregnant again, but this baby isn’t her husband’s

After ten babies, I never bother to even count dates anymore. By the time the six weeks has passed, my husband is impatient to get on with things, and so far, he has yet to fail to put a babe in my belly. 

This year, though, he was away for a fortnight, travelling to buy a new type of seed for our farm, and someone else got to my empty belly before he did. At first, I wasn’t sure, but by now, it’s undeniable to me. Twenty-eight years old, mother of ten, with an eleventh on the way— I should know. 

My husband, Jack, isn’t a big man. He’s ten years or so older than me, chosen by my parents for his large, profitable farm. So large, that he must hire help to farm it, one man all year round with additional men in autumn for harvest. Jack works hard, expects supper on the table when he’s done for the day, and expects me to let him climb on top of me before going to sleep. 

Cal, the hired man, is my age, well over six-feet, and kind, above all else. He works, and then he eats the supper I put on the table with a soft thank you, and plays with the flock of children in the yard. The money we pay him, he saves for the purchase of his own plot of land one day. When Jack went away for the seed, Cal stayed behind to care for the livestock and keep the place up. A few cozy evenings by the stove after the children were put to bed turned into a series of secret trysts. Cal’s seed had taken root in me as eagerly as Jack’s had ever done. 

In the thick of spring planting, my middle was already softening, pushing out between my hipbones. The farm might have been profitable, but Jack never kept the best back for feeding his family, and I was run off my feet cooking and caring for the children. Where some woman might be soft and round after so many babies, I still reed-slim and angular. 

Sliding out of bed one morning, Jack reached over to where I lay on my back, covered only in my nightie. His broad, roughened hand cupped the rising bulge, firm against the pressure he applied. “Another mouth to feed, hm?”

I said nothing, watching him as he stroked the bump. He patted my belly once and then got up, washing and dressing and going down to feed the animals. I rose too, buttoned on my dress, and started the task of feeding everyone. 

At the breakfast table, it was the usual chaos, with children darting around and squabbling, the new baby at my breast as I served each plate. Jack ate first, and then Cal. The children I prodded into chairs and silenced with buttered toast. The oldest few had school in the village and needed to eat, dress, and leave. The two eldest were girls, Alice and Beatrice, and could wrangle their siblings tot he schoolhouse on time most days. 

I sat briefly, unlatching the baby to switch sides, tucking one breast away and pulling out the other. I was taller than Jack, and he never sired large babes on me, though his children were vigorous. After the two girls, we’d had only boys; Charlie, David, Evan, Finn, Gareth, Henry, Isaac, and James. At least their father would have all the help he wanted once they grew up a bit. Plus the babe growing in me, though Jack would never know it wasn’t his. 

Spring came, the planting was done, and I worked the kitchen gardens with an ever-expanding middle. Even with James at my breast, even eating the dredges of last year’s potatoes, dried beans, and jarred preserves, my middle continued to push outward. I’d never looked so pregnant, so early in a pregnancy. 

To help hide it, I started grinding chaste berry up into his food, and he rolled onto me at night less and less frequently, and was actually successful even less often. James started sleeping through the hot summer nights, just as I lost my ability to do so, rising to pee at least once, if not twice. 

If I had conceived the babe at the New Year, when Jack was away, then I was due in September, right in the middle of the harvest. Say I was pregnant again by the end of October, then next year’s babe would be born in July or August— 

I ran right into Cal, out in the yard on my way back from the privy to the house. He caught my elbows, steadying me. I tipped my head back to look up at him, the night balmy around us, alive with the sounds of insects, other night-dwellers. 

His enormous hand smoothed over the dome of my belly over my nightie, the rough callouses catching on the tissue-thin linen. “It’s not his, is it?”

I put my hand over his, guiding it to feel the length of the baby’s back, already head-down. “No. Never has one of his made me so big, so fast.” 

He pressed his hand harder, and the babe stirred, feet paddling under my ribs. I guided his hand to feel that, too. “Only your child could make me swell like this, Cal.”

Putting his other hand to my face, he bent and kissed me, deep but still sweet. Cherishing, fingers drifting over the dome between us. A babe made of love, not duty, and growing abundantly with it. 

I let him have me in the dewy grass, on hands and knees with my nightie flipped up over my back, belly hanging. Cal’s cock split me in half, nearly, so much bigger than Jack. His hand covered the lower half of my face, silencing any gasps or moans as he fucked me hard and thoroughly, wringing an earth-shaking orgasm from me. 

Inside, I washed his seed from between my thighs before I slid back into bed beside a still-sleeping Jack, glad I couldn’t be made more pregnant. 

~

Harvest came, and I was so uselessly huge, my unwed sister came to mind the children and help with the preserving. Jack didn’t trust Cal to get the best price for the grain in town and so took it himself, spending nights away while Cal worked to bring it in with the short-term crew sleeping in the barn. 

The day came when I could take a deep breath again, my belly low and sloped, the baby’s head sunk deep into my pelvis. Not long now, I thought, seated in a chair in the corner of the kitchen, shelling beans or slicing fruit for jarring. 

After ten births, my body was well practiced at giving birth. What it wasn’t used to, though, was the size of Cal’s child. Jack’s children came quickly, almost easily. Even Mary marveled at the size of me. “You’re certain there’s just one?”

“Yes,” I sighed, swaying through a contraction. They’d been coming irregularly for a day now, with Jack leaving only a few hours before with the latest load of grain to sell in town. “Just— large.”

“I’ll say,” she answered me. “Well, walking always help shift a babe. I’ll stay with the children if you want to pace on the porch or in the yard.” 

I paced on the porch, in my nightie again, my long braid loose down my back. Jack had sent the crew away at last, the grain nearly finished, and Cal left to work it. I paced the long porch as the evening came, and then the twilight. Mary put the kids to bed, and I laboured out in the fresh air, the pains coming faster and harder. 

Hanging onto the railing, swaying, sweating, I gasped at the distinct pop! within me, fluids splashing out onto the floorboards between my feet. With the next pain, I groaned, feeling the beginning of the urge to push. 

Mary rubbed my back, grinding her knuckles into the base of my spine. Footsteps on the stairs drew attention. “Oh, it isn’t decent, Cal, for you to see. Go on, go back to the bunkhouse—”

“It’s his,” I panted between pains. “That’s why… God in heaven, it’s huge.”

Mary paused, listened to me struggle through another pain. “I see.”

I had to push, and I struggled to change positions, trying to sink to my knees unsuccessfully. Cal was there in an instant, levering me into a better position without effort. Mary went for the stool. 

I sagged against him, exhausted, letting my head loll on his shoulder. He murmured gently to me, wiping my face with the wet cloth Mary offered him, and settling me in the birthing stool between pains. I reached down, checking my progress, and found the babe was just there, so close and yet the hardest part still lay between now and its birth. 

With Cal and Mary for support, it took an hour just to split my sex most of the way around the head. The child was simply bigger than any babe I had carried and birthed before, and my body struggled as if it was my first. 

Tucking my chin with the next pain, I let out a low, bestial growl as I pushed with everything I had, through the burning agony—

The head pushed past the tightest part of me, and Mary checked for the cord as I panted, letting Cal hold me up. So, so close. Just the shoulders, and then…

It took another hour to turn the shoulders, to push them one at a time out of my body. Usually by then, the babes just sort of dropped out, but I had to push the babe right to the hips before it fell into Mary’s waiting hands. 

“A boy!” she squeaked, toweling as the baby grizzled and cried already. She passed him up to me, easily over ten pounds, nearly as big as James had been at four months. He cried strongly, limbs flailing, skin pinking up with every breath. 

Cal circled his arms around me, helping me hold him in my trembling arms. “He’s stunning.”

I smile tiredly, peering down at the new life in my arms. “He is.” 

-Rambles

Show some love <3

KUDOS!

Fire!

Adored this!

Would love to see more!

Great job!

Voting ended onMar 26

[imagineyourepregnant]

Requests #470

1. a 28 yr old mother of ten is pregnant again, but this baby isn’t her husband’s

After ten babies, I never bother to even count dates anymore. By the time the six weeks has passed, my husband is impatient to get on with things, and so far, he has yet to fail to put a babe in my belly. 

This year, though, he was away for a fortnight, travelling to buy a new type of seed for our farm, and someone else got to my empty belly before he did. At first, I wasn’t sure, but by now, it’s undeniable to me. Twenty-eight years old, mother of ten, with an eleventh on the way— I should know. 

My husband, Jack, isn’t a big man. He’s ten years or so older than me, chosen by my parents for his large, profitable farm. So large, that he must hire help to farm it, one man all year round with additional men in autumn for harvest. Jack works hard, expects supper on the table when he’s done for the day, and expects me to let him climb on top of me before going to sleep. 

Cal, the hired man, is my age, well over six-feet, and kind, above all else. He works, and then he eats the supper I put on the table with a soft thank you, and plays with the flock of children in the yard. The money we pay him, he saves for the purchase of his own plot of land one day. When Jack went away for the seed, Cal stayed behind to care for the livestock and keep the place up. A few cozy evenings by the stove after the children were put to bed turned into a series of secret trysts. Cal’s seed had taken root in me as eagerly as Jack’s had ever done. 

In the thick of spring planting, my middle was already softening, pushing out between my hipbones. The farm might have been profitable, but Jack never kept the best back for feeding his family, and I was run off my feet cooking and caring for the children. Where some woman might be soft and round after so many babies, I still reed-slim and angular. 

Sliding out of bed one morning, Jack reached over to where I lay on my back, covered only in my nightie. His broad, roughened hand cupped the rising bulge, firm against the pressure he applied. “Another mouth to feed, hm?”

I said nothing, watching him as he stroked the bump. He patted my belly once and then got up, washing and dressing and going down to feed the animals. I rose too, buttoned on my dress, and started the task of feeding everyone. 

At the breakfast table, it was the usual chaos, with children darting around and squabbling, the new baby at my breast as I served each plate. Jack ate first, and then Cal. The children I prodded into chairs and silenced with buttered toast. The oldest few had school in the village and needed to eat, dress, and leave. The two eldest were girls, Alice and Beatrice, and could wrangle their siblings tot he schoolhouse on time most days. 

I sat briefly, unlatching the baby to switch sides, tucking one breast away and pulling out the other. I was taller than Jack, and he never sired large babes on me, though his children were vigorous. After the two girls, we’d had only boys; Charlie, David, Evan, Finn, Gareth, Henry, Isaac, and James. At least their father would have all the help he wanted once they grew up a bit. Plus the babe growing in me, though Jack would never know it wasn’t his. 

Spring came, the planting was done, and I worked the kitchen gardens with an ever-expanding middle. Even with James at my breast, even eating the dredges of last year’s potatoes, dried beans, and jarred preserves, my middle continued to push outward. I’d never looked so pregnant, so early in a pregnancy. 

To help hide it, I started grinding chaste berry up into his food, and he rolled onto me at night less and less frequently, and was actually successful even less often. James started sleeping through the hot summer nights, just as I lost my ability to do so, rising to pee at least once, if not twice. 

If I had conceived the babe at the New Year, when Jack was away, then I was due in September, right in the middle of the harvest. Say I was pregnant again by the end of October, then next year’s babe would be born in July or August— 

I ran right into Cal, out in the yard on my way back from the privy to the house. He caught my elbows, steadying me. I tipped my head back to look up at him, the night balmy around us, alive with the sounds of insects, other night-dwellers. 

His enormous hand smoothed over the dome of my belly over my nightie, the rough callouses catching on the tissue-thin linen. “It’s not his, is it?”

I put my hand over his, guiding it to feel the length of the baby’s back, already head-down. “No. Never has one of his made me so big, so fast.” 

He pressed his hand harder, and the babe stirred, feet paddling under my ribs. I guided his hand to feel that, too. “Only your child could make me swell like this, Cal.”

Putting his other hand to my face, he bent and kissed me, deep but still sweet. Cherishing, fingers drifting over the dome between us. A babe made of love, not duty, and growing abundantly with it. 

I let him have me in the dewy grass, on hands and knees with my nightie flipped up over my back, belly hanging. Cal’s cock split me in half, nearly, so much bigger than Jack. His hand covered the lower half of my face, silencing any gasps or moans as he fucked me hard and thoroughly, wringing an earth-shaking orgasm from me. 

Inside, I washed his seed from between my thighs before I slid back into bed beside a still-sleeping Jack, glad I couldn’t be made more pregnant. 

~

Harvest came, and I was so uselessly huge, my unwed sister came to mind the children and help with the preserving. Jack didn’t trust Cal to get the best price for the grain in town and so took it himself, spending nights away while Cal worked to bring it in with the short-term crew sleeping in the barn. 

The day came when I could take a deep breath again, my belly low and sloped, the baby’s head sunk deep into my pelvis. Not long now, I thought, seated in a chair in the corner of the kitchen, shelling beans or slicing fruit for jarring. 

After ten births, my body was well practiced at giving birth. What it wasn’t used to, though, was the size of Cal’s child. Jack’s children came quickly, almost easily. Even Mary marveled at the size of me. “You’re certain there’s just one?”

“Yes,” I sighed, swaying through a contraction. They’d been coming irregularly for a day now, with Jack leaving only a few hours before with the latest load of grain to sell in town. “Just— large.”

“I’ll say,” she answered me. “Well, walking always help shift a babe. I’ll stay with the children if you want to pace on the porch or in the yard.” 

I paced on the porch, in my nightie again, my long braid loose down my back. Jack had sent the crew away at last, the grain nearly finished, and Cal left to work it. I paced the long porch as the evening came, and then the twilight. Mary put the kids to bed, and I laboured out in the fresh air, the pains coming faster and harder. 

Hanging onto the railing, swaying, sweating, I gasped at the distinct pop! within me, fluids splashing out onto the floorboards between my feet. With the next pain, I groaned, feeling the beginning of the urge to push. 

Mary rubbed my back, grinding her knuckles into the base of my spine. Footsteps on the stairs drew attention. “Oh, it isn’t decent, Cal, for you to see. Go on, go back to the bunkhouse—”

“It’s his,” I panted between pains. “That’s why… God in heaven, it’s huge.”

Mary paused, listened to me struggle through another pain. “I see.”

I had to push, and I struggled to change positions, trying to sink to my knees unsuccessfully. Cal was there in an instant, levering me into a better position without effort. Mary went for the stool. 

I sagged against him, exhausted, letting my head loll on his shoulder. He murmured gently to me, wiping my face with the wet cloth Mary offered him, and settling me in the birthing stool between pains. I reached down, checking my progress, and found the babe was just there, so close and yet the hardest part still lay between now and its birth. 

With Cal and Mary for support, it took an hour just to split my sex most of the way around the head. The child was simply bigger than any babe I had carried and birthed before, and my body struggled as if it was my first. 

Tucking my chin with the next pain, I let out a low, bestial growl as I pushed with everything I had, through the burning agony—

The head pushed past the tightest part of me, and Mary checked for the cord as I panted, letting Cal hold me up. So, so close. Just the shoulders, and then…

It took another hour to turn the shoulders, to push them one at a time out of my body. Usually by then, the babes just sort of dropped out, but I had to push the babe right to the hips before it fell into Mary’s waiting hands. 

“A boy!” she squeaked, toweling as the baby grizzled and cried already. She passed him up to me, easily over ten pounds, nearly as big as James had been at four months. He cried strongly, limbs flailing, skin pinking up with every breath. 

Cal circled his arms around me, helping me hold him in my trembling arms. “He’s stunning.”

I smile tiredly, peering down at the new life in my arms. “He is.” 

-Rambles

Show some love <3

KUDOS!

Fire!

Adored this!

Would love to see more!

Great job!

Voting ended onMar 26

[wereknightpreg]

no sight more beautiful than a man clutching his violently contracting belly. no tableau more worthy of an oil painting than a nude man, covered in a fine sheen of sweat, catching his breath between contractions, lounging on a daybed by the open windows. no sound more pleasant than his harsh panting. no feeling more exquisite than his silky taut skin under your fingertips. no image so worth preserving as his flushed face, cheeks burning and tired, hooded eyes looking down at his swollen, gravid belly. no request easier to obey than his breathy plea, mouth and eyes begging you to stop teasingly describing how you want to fuck him until his waters break and do it already

[chunkowitz-too]

are u still taking requests? if so it would be so good to see S overdue with triplets pls!! 🥰

im always open for more S suggestions! i cant get enough of drawing this dude

[pushingboi]

imagine walking around heavily pregnant and just being able to feel the head like a ball joint in your hips wherever you go, heavy and grinding downwards with every move

[fatfemmebear]

The contraction was a force that could not be bargained with, so much pressure distilled into such a small space that suddenly nothing was left within him but a blind, instinctive need to push. He reared back to grab the counter lip with his other hand, dropped his chin to his chest, and finally, finally did what his body had been screaming at him to do: he pushed.

Read the rest of Dave’s twin birth story here!

Gonna try to add the uncensored version in the reblogs 👁️

[fatfemmebear]

>:3

[roundedcomet]

Fuckkk now I just keep thinking of when someone is so pregnant their navel has no choice but to pop out.

They feel whatever's in their womb squirming around a lot recently. They see the ripples through their shirt and even their hoodies, sometimes even swaying or feeling a harsh thump that makes them clutch the sides of their belly. They think they can't take anymore when they feel a pop, and suddenly their shirt is rubbing against this hard nub and it's driving them up a wall.

When they touch it, it nearly makes their legs buckle. They gasp and grunt, forcing themself to hold their belly around it and not touch that nub that keeps twitching with each little thump and press. Yet even when they try to keep the fabric off it, the chill of the air almost makes it worse, a wet patch already soaking their underwear.

Maybe they have a partner that just watches before kneeling in front of them and kissing the taut underside of their belly. The kisses slowly trail to their belly button before they feel a testing lick and then a suck. They try to hold onto their partner by any means necessary as they cry out, not even able to touch themself.

[pregtboy]

convincing a heavily massively pregnant trans boy to go out with his giant belly bared because if his belly wasn't meant to be on display it wouldn't have swollen up so big that no clothes can cover it

[nightecho50]

"'Cause I'll tell you everything about being free" -"Vagabond" by Wolfmother

[nightecho50]

Jin and Ubiquity (owned by @mittysins) being cute and excited for their second baby