we're not kids anymore.
if i look back, i am lost
Today's Document
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Andulka
Jules of Nature
pixel skylines
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
oozey mess
Cosmic Funnies
NASA
izzy's playlists!
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
h
YOU ARE THE REASON
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
almost home
roma★
sheepfilms
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Argentina
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Netherlands
seen from T1
seen from Germany
seen from Netherlands
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Azerbaijan
seen from United States
@pregnant19
"Before we go in kids, there's some big news we need to share with you. The reason why I didn't fly out to visit you this semester is that... I'm pregnant. We found out after Christmas, but we didn't want to tell you anything until we were sure I could carry. They're twin boys. I'm due in August before you go back. Did you have any questions?"
It was your first quiet moment alone with Mom visiting her new family. Dad had been gone for 6 years now, and she and Brian had only been married since last spring. You remember how she looked the day after the funeral: haggard, tired, already resigned to the life of a bitter old widow, and not yet 50. Leaving her to finish school was one of the hardest decisions you ever made in your life, she was so angry she wouldn't even kiss you goodbye.
Now here she was in her new dining room, bouncy, glowing, and teeming with life, a loving wife, mother to two teenage boys, a baby girl just waiting to burst from her pregnant belly.
You asked how she was doing, really. She threw her head back in laughter and pulled her shirt up with pride.
"Can you believe he knocked me up! Oh my lord! I'm about to pop and I still can't! Your sister's engaged and I could give birth any day now. And the boys have been so mature about it, and oh, what am I saying, go on, did you want to touch?"
You were so happy for her.
"Thanks again kids for talking me into keeping this baby. I admit I was scared to start over again alone at my age, but I couldn't be happier to be pregnant again. I can't wait for you to meet her..."
Girlfriend asks, "What do you think about my outfit? The shorts are a little tight – I may have gained a few – but you always liked them on me. Do they still look cute?" (tinybabymarshmallow.tumblr)
real & ai edited
Just a hot mama getting her and her bump some sun!⛱️
Bumpin' in Europe, 1
Monica wasn’t your aunt, and to be honest, you were never really sure what she was doing in your house.
The few memories you had of her were like a fuzzy dream, disjointed bits with a touch of a few very specific sensations, like the smell of her perfume or the exact shade of tan she always had.
She was Mom’s friend, that was it. You couldn’t remember for how long she was around, and if anything, she probably had been your mom’s friend more than she was your auntie.
The most vivid memories you had of her flourished around your teen years when the way you looked at her started to slowly shift.
She would come around a few times a year, typically around the holidays and it always meant gifts, exotic trinkets and the extremely physical affection that the people from somewhere in Southern Europe always carried around with them. She would always bring good wine with her and that meant that mom would be a little less grumpy and that you were allowed to stay up past your bedtime, sitting in the dark in the backyard with them.
But she wasn’t around that much for you to consider her a constant, an important part of your life as you did with some other of your mom’s friends, who you would actually call aunt.
Monica was just the woman that would get all the horny teens in the neighbourhood to conglomerate in your backyard to watch her sunbathe.
Cause she was pretty hot, too. As you grew older, the less you cared about if she brought you gifts and more if she was going to wear those shorts or tank tops that showed off way more skin than your conservative neighbourhood was used to.
All the fond memories you had of her seemed to remain buried deep into your little box of wonders, until yesterday.
You shook your feet in the air before smacking them gently against the wall, trying to get rid of the sand that got into your sandals, grazing the bare skin and making you groan silently. Something tickled the back of your sweaty neck, and a small blood spot smudged your fingers when you killed the mosquito that landed on your skin.
This far, this part of your journey has been hell on earth.
It had looked nothing like what the influencers on Instagram showed, and yes, you were aware that if there was something this trip wasn’t going to be, that was glamorous.
But, come on! This was too much even for you.
The owner of the hostel you were staying in ended up being a total asshole, to say the least.
The place was nothing like what it advertised on Airbnb, the posted pictures made you think that there was a cozy, safe, friendly and clean place that couldn't be less far from reality in competition with the building that stood in front of you.
And of course, you did expect to share a room with people. Maybe nine, ten at worst. Not fucking 25 other people in the most cramped place you have ever seen, and for the price you were paying might as well pay for a hotel room.
You could hear your mother’s voice saying I told you clear as daylight.
Long short story, there was no way you were getting your money back that day, you were without a single penny in your pockets and waiting for some divine Airbnb intervention to come and rescue you.
But it didn’t happen, and your mom was the godsend creature that served you the solution to all your problems on a silver platter, after the scolding of the year over the phone. It truly is a small world, and Monica, her friend, happened to live in the same hole lost in the middle of nowhere where you ended up.
Another argument with the hostel owner and a few more calls later, you were heading to Monica’s house, who gladly allowed you to spend as much time as needed at her place.
There were a few little details that didn't escape your eyes at first sight, not the most obvious, perhaps. Her hair was shorter—no longer waist long, and a shade lighter, a nice caramel brown instead of black. And God, she looked younger than her actual age. Even when there were new wrinkles around her eyes and there was proof that she smiled too much on the corners of her lips.
Well, she was still a beautiful woman.
As a kid, you were bewitched by how kind and funny she was and what amazing gifts she always gave you. Now your interests were drafted to how fucking hot the woman in front of you was.
She wasn’t exactly like the vivid image you hold in your memory, she surfed the transition from young adult to mature woman smoothly and hot as hell. And you liked it, but as your eyes scanned her from head to toe, taking in every inch and trying to remain as neutral as possible, it wasn't possible to contain the way your eyebrows raised and your lips parted, your face crumpling up in total surprise.
Firstly your gaze shifted front the way the skin that revealed the risky neckline shined against the warm sun to lower, and all the curves were great. But the curves didn’t stop there, because the modest black shirt she was wearing clung tightly to the gravid stomach that protruded in her middle, stretching the fabric dangerously.
Your mind went blank and you weren't sure if you let out an audible gasp, but your eyes seemed to be glued to her heavy, big midsection. Not only she looked— she was pregnant. She was pregnant, and fuck, you were sure she had more than one bun in the oven.
Huge. She was huge. Swollen breasts and round, firm stomach that made you wonder whether she already was in the last trimester.
Lucky the bastard that knocked her up.
It took a moment for your brain to reboot and return to function normally after you almost drooled.
The fabric barely covered the curve of her stomach, leaving a bit of the skin of her underbelly exposed, soft and inviting and you wanted to touch. In an unconscious manner, Monica pulled the shirt down in a useless try, because it lifted again, exposing even more skin.
Her hands moved to your forearms, gripping softly at them before she pulled you closer into a hug, her arms circling your body. You hugged her back automatically, burying your face between her shoulder and her neck and she was wearing the same perfume as always.
“Oh, Y/N! Look at you, dear". Monica laughed quietly.
The weight of the backpack you carried didn’t help you to remain stable, and soon you found yourself almost leaning completely against her in a closeness you didn’t intend. The gravid roundedness of her stomach pressed against your thin middle in comparison, and for a moment all you could feel was your own body getting hotter by the second, not knowing what to do with your hands.
Thank God you already looked flustered and sweaty when you got there.
You knew where you wanted to put your hands, but that would be not respectful at all. You wanted to touch, run your fingers over the bump, to touch and grasp but God, you had basic human decency to not be that much of a creep.
She pressed a kiss to your right cheek, and you shivered at the feeling of her lips against your hot skin and the way her gravid body pressed against yours, then another kiss on your left cheek.
“Please, come inside”.
You didn’t remember it, but she had an accent.
She held the door open for you, and she had to turn sideways facing you to get her belly out of the way and let you fit past her into the house.
The place was surreal, with high ceilings and spacious rooms, floors that conserved old tiles decorated with handmade colorful details you were sure weren't made anymore these days, paintings on the walls and art pieces that reminded you of abstract art pieces you had seen online.
Everything was taken care of, every little decoration carefully placed, every detail double-checked, and your attention should be there, but your eyes couldn't leave Monica’s body.
“Look at you, you’re…” she smiled, walking into the kitchen, “God, you’re so… different. All grown up, now."
Leaning back against the countertop, one of her hands traveled to rest over her growing stomach, and the other one to rest behind her back for support. A drop of sweat rolled down her neck and slid down her collarbone, disappearing between her breasts. You realized she wasn't wearing anything under the shirt, and you got it, being all hot and bothered while being so pregnant didn't seemed like a good idea.
And for a moment your brain flashed with images of her naked on top of you, breasts full of milk bouncing and gravid bellies contracting under your touch. Then you shook your head vigorously, forcing yourself to remember why it was wrong and you shouldn't be looking at Monica in that light.
“Yeah, you’re...” you let out a shaky breath, your hands gesturing first to yourself, then to her before you shrugged. “I mean, you look-”
The words got tangled on your tongue before they could even try to get past your lips; you knew exactly what you wanted to say, but you weren’t sure if you should. You swallowed, taking a deep breath under the attentive gaze of Monica.
“I know, different. Different is good.” you forced out, smiling and waving your hand.
You hoped the blush that painted across your cheeks wasn’t noticeable, that she hadn’t noticed. How to say anything without it coming off the wrong way?
You wanted to compliment her so badly, but there were so many risk factors here, you didn’t even know where to start.
She was hot. More than you remembered and even more than you expected, and pregnancy... suited her so well. Like she was born to be like this, to have a gravid body and carry a huge stomach, with a baby growing inside of her. Full and heavy breasts, glowing from the inside out, soft thick thighs and perfect curves everywhere, meant to be a mommy.
"Y/N?" she asked, cocking her head to the side, her hand rubbing the curve of her abdomen tenderly. "Everything alright?"
You...
Change the topic completely
Speak your mind, but in the most subtle manner you can
Are not a coward, spit exactly what you think out
As you know, the future of this story is up to you ;) so vote, comment, or whaterver you like babe. I hope you enjoyed the start of this journey so far, and I hope we can get even more of this 👀 as always, criticism is always appreciated and likes feed my ego, so feel free to smash that little heart :)
Her: One last Baseball Date before I pop…unless these two little bubs stick around in there until then next homestand…and I want it to be special for us…I’ve been looking forward to this. It’s a beautiful night out…sitting outside in that warm, early-summer evening air with you…the feeling of your hand rubbing my back and my neck as I go to town on a couple of hot dogs with spicy mustard, extra sauerkraut…maybe a couple of jalapeños and pickles…going back for more around the 6th inning…I hear they have a pastrami dog too…that sounds orgasmically good…mmm, enough to make me wonder what I’m looking forward to more…the food…or when we sneak off to the bathroom during the seventh inning stretch…they’re both pretty orgasmic…
Fecund
When your stepmom tells you that you're getting 5 identical sisters for christmas.
Such an aggressive kick...she really felt that.
The first time you called your step mother Mom.
The plot of most stories I'm ever written in my stash.
Hugely pregnant.
She seems like a loving aunt to those girls. In my headcannon.
Imagine being this monstrously huge and full at only 24 weeks, moaning in delicious tortured agony as you feel each member of your litter moving inside you. The babies are so big now that you can feel them all individually inside you, each body and limb distinct inside the colonized space of your body. You haven’t even entered the third trimester yet, and that’s when the babies double in size. You groan pathetically as your distended abdomen bulges and undulates with protruding heads and feet, the entire mass wobbling as the huge amount of fetuses jostle for space inside you.
“Ohhhhh goddddd make them stopppppp, I can feel all of them! They won’t stop MOVING! Ohhhhh god I think that’s a head bulging out of me…”
Her stepson is the one taking the picture.
Have you felt my belly before? I don’t think you have…
Come here…
Don’t worry, I won’t bite… Just lay your hands on my tummy… there… like that! Isn’t that nice? It’s very warm and firm… but it has a little give to it. You can press on it, you won’t hurt anything… my bellybutton is pretty soft, it just pushes right in! Always pops back out though! You can push it in from both sides… you’re very gentle, I trust you!
I’m going to lie down for a little nap. Why don’t you keep feeling my belly while I rest… after all… I can tell you enjoy it.
You're 5 or 6 months pregnant with some ungodly huge litter, and it's already getting difficult to stand up and move around. Do you immediately embrace bedrest and immobility, knowing it will be months before you can move around under your own strength again, gaining weight faster due to your completely sedentary lifestyle -or- do you insist on struggling to maintain your independence for as long as possible, no matter how hard it is or how ridiculous you look waddling around with a huge gut?
I like being able to get around and do stuff, and if there's one thing this whole pandemic has taught me it's that I am 100% capable of going stir crazy, so I'd prefer to stay mobile for as long as possible! Besides, that way I get to go places and show off my tummy! And when people go "wow you must be ready to pop" I can respond "nah I'm only in my second trimester" and watch them wig out.
Hyperpreg monarchs going around the nation looking for the finest materials to decorate their belly with. Citizens hastily going out into the streets to take a look, expecting mothers giving the belly a rub for good luck. Every artisan waiting at the square to present their finest works, nervous of a polite decline. Maybe a festival is held for the arrival for the monarch, decorating her belly with paints, cooks and bakers preparing a feast for her and the children she's carrying, everyone's having a nice time.
😍😍😍 This is SO good! Like the whole town comes out and just... there’s music and dancing. The monarch gets to bask in being the center of attention. They have cooking competitions in addition to the feasts and the winner is picked by one VERY pregnant judge who operates at the whim of their cravings. The artisans come forth trying to show why THEIR piece belongs in the babies’ rooms. The others group around the forward hemisphere of belly and work to paint a panorama cross it. Jewelers being their finest belly button rings for their highness to try on. The diamonds are more expensive, but the rubies are BIGGER! Which will they pick? Just sounds like a fun time.
