the monsters in my tummy

Keep your arms above your head.

I’ve been a little brat.
You know damn well that I know I have been.
I’m doing it on purpose, silly.
I know it drives you insane.
I know it makes you want to pounce. Why wouldn’t I be a brat?

I see the look in your eye. I pretend I don’t, but I can see that sparkle, that “You’re screwed, little girl” look.

I finally stretch just a liiiiiittle too far, revealing my tummy and underarms, and the inner monster is released.

You pounce.

I scream.

You know just as well as I do that this is what I hoped for all along. To release the big, bad Ler in you. Your mouth curls up into a sadistic smile.

“We’re going to play a game, little girl.”

My eyes are wide and my face is flushing red.

“You’re going to listen really close, understand? I’m going to destroy you, and the entire time, you have to keep your arms above your head. No bondage. No restraints. Just keep them up. If you don’t, you’ll get it a thousand times worse. Understood?”

The inner monster really has been released. This is a game that will destroy someone as sensitive as me.

I can’t keep my arms up. It’s involuntary. I’ll squeal at the first touch and throw them down. You know this is well as I do.

You’ll give me another chance, just because you love to tease me so horribly.

“Aww is someone ticklish??”

This will destroy me.

Because not only will I get the first little pokes and prods as I pretend to be tough, but the second I lose cognitive control from the butterflies in my tummy and the joyous, uncontrolled laughter falling from my lips, those arms will be down, feebly trying to protect myself.

And that’s when the punishment begins. The flurry of scribbles and squeezes and pokes and prods. This is when I’ll beg and plead, at first for you to stop, but then, when I am thoroughly broken from fingers and feathers and brushes attacking every square inch of my body, all I’ll be able to say is one simple word.


That’s the point of this game. You know it. I know it.

It’s not to see who can win or lose, because we both know I’m about to be wrecked.

No, it’s about that point, where I can’t get enough. Where I can’t control smiling and giggling, even when you aren’t touching me. Where I crave for more. Where my walls are completely broken down, and you can see me. The real me. No acting. Just pure, blissful laughter.

And that moment starts with a simple, blush-inducing sentence.

“Keep your arms above your head.”

(Okay this is my first writing ever so if it’s horrible I’m so sorry. Tell me what you think???)

anonymous asked:

IMO; Vore is alright, but where it's REALLY at is the stomach grumbles!! Just hungry preds with growling tummies! <3 (~Monster Anon)

Anon, that is literally like…my fAVORITE aspect of vore–

Like I genuinely love vore so much, but what got me into it was stomach grumbles! Honestly, that’s like my absolute FAVORITE part of ANY vore situation…the noises of the hungry stomach beforehand, and after the prey is consumed as it gurgles happily! <3

literally that’s my favorite oh my god…especially when a pred is either super embarrassed about their hungry, growly, noisy tummy and attempts to hide it in their bashfulness, or whether they’re playful and smush the prey to their hungrily-awaiting belly, telling them that their tummy will be their new home and gushing about how full and happy their tum will be afterwards…>////////////< god i just want a pred to press me against their hungry growly belly and tease me about how much of a delicious meal I’m going to be and how hungry their stomach is for me and gWAH–


Originally posted by sophialovon18

Go follow @adriannahobrien09 because her writing is bomb af <3 

Stiles takes care of you while you’re sick…

Chairlift- Crying in Public

The second I opened my eyes, I realized I had made the worst decision in my life. A wave of nausea washed over me, causing me to thrash out of the sheets and sprint to the toilet. I heard my husband fall off of the bed, following me to see what was wrong. 

“Y/N?” his rasped, peeking his head through the door. “You okay?” 

“Fi-” I paused, clearing my throat. 

Coming into the bathroom, he gathered my hair into a ponytail, pulling it away from my face. Standing up slowly with the help of Stiles, I groaned lightly as I washed up. 

“Come on,” he guided. Helping me back to the bed, Stiles tucked me under the covers. 

“She’s a little monster, isn’t she?” he smiled, rubbing my tummy while trying to lighten up the mood. 

I chuckled lightly; I was currently 6 months pregnant with a baby girl. Stiles was more worried that I was, constantly asking me if I was okay, needed anything, or wanted more ice cream. I definitely got married to the best worry wart in the world. 

“I’ll get you some breakfast,” he comforted, pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

Before he could leave, I grasped his wrist, giving him puppy eyes to ask if I could come with him. 

“No no no, it’s not working on me this time,” he shook his head. 

Pouting my lips further, he gave in to my pleas and lifted me up from the bed, carrying the pair of us to the kitchen. Setting me down on the counter, I quickly jumped off as he gathered stuff from the fridge. 

I’m sure there are weirder things than having soup for breakfast. Right? 

He shot me a small smirk, cutting up vegetables as I heated water on the stove.

“Do you think she’ll be like me or you?” he murmured into my ear, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing kisses down my neck.

“I hope she’s like the both of us,” I giggled lightly as I tossed the ingredients into the pot.   

“Why?” he asked, rubbing circles on my stomach. 

I felt the edges of my lips tug into a grin. 

“Well,” I turned around. “If she has my sense of humor then we’ll both have stomach aches every single day, but if she has your driving skills then you’d best hope that we have really good car insurance…” 

Stiles pinched my cheeks in retaliation. 

“And if she’s as ticklish as you-” he paused, making me widen my eyes in horror. 

“Stiles-” I warned just before placing the lid onto the pot. 

He didn’t give me time to react before we were running around the house like children. 

“Exercise plus pregnant lady equals no bueno!” I huffed, surrendering into his arms. 

Chuckling with his velvety deep voice, I gazed into his brown eyes, seeing them glint with pure happiness. 

“I love you…” he said. 

“600,” I replied with a smile. 

He grinned again, looking down at our hands which were laced together. 

Ever since we started dating during freshman year of high school, we kept track of how many times we’d exchanged I love you’s. I decided to start a new record when we got married a year ago partially due to the fact that it got tiresome having to count from 2,000. It was actually because I forgot what number we were on, but shh-

“I love you,” I replied, holding his hand tighter. 

“Happy 601,” he teased. 

“You’re so lame,” I giggled as I wrapped my arms around his neck. 

“But you-” he paused with a kiss on my cheek.

“Love,” Kiss. 

“Me,” Stiles enunciated the last kiss, making a loud ‘muah’ noise at the end. 

“Yes-” I repeated. 

“I,” my laughter peeked through. 

“Do,” I finally kissed his lips. “But I’m still want soup…” 

Stiles laughed out loud and picked me up, taking me back to the night of our honeymoon. 

“What do you think about twins?” he blurted out randomly. 

“Don’t even think about it Stilinski…” 

You could imagine my defeat when I looked at him to see puppy eyes and pouty face. 

10 years later (AU-Part 22)




I had been away from my girls for just over a week and was so excited to see them again. Adding to the fact I got to see them, it was also my birthday today. It seemed like a common thing in our household that we all loved birthdays. This meant that I was likely to get home to a birthday lunch fit for royalty and my adorable little girl and gorgeous fiancé singing to me.

I called home as soon as I got off the plane and through security to let them know when I might be there.

“Hello?” Lottie answered the phone.

“Hey baby!” I replied

“DADDY! Are you almost home? Happy Birthday!” She said in quick succession.

“I’ll be home in about 30 minutes….Can I talk to Taylor, hun?” I asked.

“Ummmmm……she’s busy?” Lottie replied, with a small amount of questioning in her voice.

“Ok? Well….can you tell her I’ll be there in 30 minutes?” I asked, quite confused about what was going on.

“Yup! See you soon daddy! Love you!” She replied, hanging up the phone before I could say goodbye.

This was starting off as a rather odd morning.

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doodled some monster!au cas aw yeahhhhh i have lots of pain drugs in my system rn so idk if these actually look good or not or if its just my inflated pain-induced ego. i looked at items in my asos wishlist for insp for his clothes lmao. that isn’t cas’s blood on his head lol cas bleeds black like the leviathan blob he is.