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#relationship thinspo
sk1nn1sblog · 29 days
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Emo/grunge/dark/whatever thinspo
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vintagelooks31 · 10 months
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Here’s some relationships thinspo
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Notice how all of them are skinny? Yeah, cause no one loves a fat ass.
Get up and move.
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whyme-anamayi · 5 months
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I made mood boards, but with thinspo.
But remember, all bodies are perfect and goregous
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ahola-witch · 2 years
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He’d love you if you were skinny
He’d love you if you were pretty
He’d love you if you weren’t a fat bitch
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shutitillbeskinny · 9 months
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I'll get pretty and then he'll love me and brag about me. I'll be the girl he deserves.
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yikesspike · 9 months
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thinsp0 that's got a chokehold on me atm
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bipolar-beech · 2 years
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AUGUST 27TH.
I weigh 245 pounds.
I NEED weigh at least 235 lbs by the 3rd of September.
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caloriedense · 2 years
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Relationship Thinspo (WLW)
Imagine the way she'll pick you up by the waist, too strong at first. You almost topple over her as she jokes about how you're lighter than a feather. Cuddling you like a too-small kitten, you sit there on her lap, legs passed over either side of her hips. There is a tinge of worry in her eyes, but only for a moment before you pull her in. Close. You trace her bottom lip with your thumb before lowering your head for a light kiss. Her lips, soft, everything about her is so soft. It contrasts against the rigidness of you, the harsh edges. But your skin is nothing short of porcelain, untouched, perfect, smooth. It looks to stretch over the contours that you used to only dream of.
You sink your head deeper into the crook of her neck, resting under her chin as she strokes your hair. Your heart beats a little quicker now, breathing a little heavier. Her hand makes its way down your head to your back. You can feel her touch the first bone of your spine. You quite like the feeling of how it pokes out like that. Her hand falters for a moment, before wrapping quickly around the side of your ribs.
She rests her head over yours, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. "You really should be eating more, treacle," she says after a moment. You try to pull away, but she doesn't let you, holding you firmly in her arms. All you muster is a quiet "mhm," feeling too love-drunk to say anything else, scared to get defensive in fear of ruining this moment. She doesn't push it, but you know she cares for you, truly cares for you. She sees you. Loves you.
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p-4n4ym1a · 1 month
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Quiero ser esa mujer…
A la que se presume y no se esconde
A la que presenta a su familia
Con la que tenga instinto protector
Que se sienta afortunado de tener
Elegante, delicada y con gracia
Con la que quiera sacarse fotos
Que le vuelva físicamente loco
Que no le cueste coger en brazos
A la que saca a bailar
A la que compra un vestido sin dudar la talla
Con la que quiera ser detallista
Quiero ser la mujer de su vida… 🤍✨🤍✨🤍
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horizonmlm · 1 year
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BMTH twitter scares me so much all i do is lurk but the stuff i hear is so absurd its like good lord you people are unwell in the worst ways
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sk1nn1sblog · 7 months
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Autumn th1nspo
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vintagelooks31 · 10 months
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Black bikini summer thinspiration!!
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girlwithfish · 2 years
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its really scary how i dont even remember how i started shing . ed tw in tags as well..
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ahola-witch · 2 years
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 Why would he want you? He doesn't like girls like you. He likes pretty girls, thin girls. You could get a guy like him if you were skinny, if you were beautiful. 
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bornafter1993 · 2 years
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🧍🏻‍♀️
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venus-haze · 3 days
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Power Play (Soldier Boy x Reader)
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Summary: So, you lost focus and had a consensual workplace relationship. It happens all the time. Maybe not quite like this.
Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Crazy ass 80s Vought debauchery. I might be a little rusty, but it was fun getting back into writing readerfics after two months🖤 Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 1.5k
Warnings: Power imbalance, cheating (Soldier Boy’s with Crimson Countess). Mentions of drug use. Soldier Boy is his own warning. Sexually explicit content involving elements of forced intox, semi-public sex, breeding kink.
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You were dizzy. With Vought’s investor gala rapidly approaching, you spent the better part of your day camped out in your office, flipping back and forth through your rolodex to call and confirm catering, entertainment—you still couldn’t believe the board of directors actually approved Duran Duran’s booking fee—and transportation, off the top of your head. You already told Stan Edgar you were taking the following week off, which he had no qualms about—so long as the gala went off without a hitch.
You nearly jumped out of your skin when you were interrupted by a knock at your office door, which you’d left open in an effort to be available in the lead up to the event.
“Don’t tell me Edgar’s got you working tonight,” Soldier Boy said, walking in when he saw he had your attention.
“The most important night of the year is less than a week away and I still have a to-do list as long as your dick, so, yeah.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Must be pretty busy then.”
“How about you? Where’s Countess?” you asked.
Soldier Boy probably would have sought you out even if Crimson Countess were around, but from what you’d been hearing through Vought’s extensive grapevine, they were in yet another rough patch. Though, it seemed to you like their relationship was one long, extremely rough patch with some calm once in a blue moon. You weren’t afraid to admit to yourself that you ate up the gossip of their relationship like candy, especially when the other members of Payback—including Countess herself—would rant to Edgar about it. Since your office was right next to his, and most supes had little to no sense of subtlety, you could hear just about everything.
“She’s at one of those wildlife charity things, pandas or some bullshit.” He rolled his eyes. “Bitched at me because I wouldn’t go. She won’t be back until Friday.”
“Soldier Boy, I can’t just—“
“Sure you can. I mean, I’m technically your boss too, aren’t I?” he asked. “So, I say there’s no harm in taking a ten, fifteen minute break. Relieve some stress.”
You sighed. It had been a while since you actually got up from your desk. “Alright. Fifteen minutes, tops.”
He grinned. “Now we’re talking. You keep that minibar stocked?”
“Pick your poison.”
“Whiskey?”
“Sure.”
At least, you were pretty sure. The minibar in your office served as a nice gesture for the variety of people who’d come into your office for meetings related to all of the aspects of event planning you were in charge of. Over the past few weeks, though, you’d been reaching for bottles of whatever you could find to relieve the stress. Powdered your nose every so often, but tried not to make that a habit—not that you blamed your coworkers who did. Working at Vought was brutal and demanding, but hell, who else got to work with superheroes? Especially handsome, smarmy assholes who knew just how to fuck the lingering thoughts of any deadline or event planning out of your mind if you played your cards right. 
He handed you a shot glass. “What should we toast to?”
“To taking next week off.”
“Yeah? What’ve you got planned?”
You threw back your shot. “Nothing.”
“That’s no fun. How does a few days in Miami sound?”
You nearly scoffed. Of course he could make something like that happen on such short notice. For forty years running he was America’s superhero and Vought’s cash cow. After a night of schmoozing at the investor gala, he could very well clear out his schedule and fuck off for a week of sun, sand, and sex, too.
“I might need some convincing.”
“Then make yourself comfortable,” he said, walking back to the minibar to pour another shot for each of you. Almost comical, he’d have to drink the whole bottle and then some to feel the same way you did after two shots.
You glanced at the open door. “Someone might see.”
“Are you gonna make me repeat myself?”
Sparing the door one more glance, you worked at unbuttoning your blouse, tossing it aside. You shimmied out of your skirt and let it fall to the floor. 
“Heels stay on,” he said, his back to you. “Everything else off. Everything.”
With a hesitant huff, you unhooked your bra and pulled off your panties, throwing them in his direction when he turned around with the shot glasses. You made yourself comfortable on top of your desk, pushing some of your belongings aside to accommodate you.
He whistled lowly as you quickly finished off the second shot he gave you. “Look at you sitting pretty for me.” His green eyes burned a hole through you, though your gaze was fixed on the prominent bulge in his pants. He brought his shot glass to your lips. “Drink up, sweetheart.”
And you did, forcing the alcohol down as your vision blurred with tears at the unrelenting burning in the back of your throat. Felt some whiskey dripping from the corners of your mouth when you drained the shot glass. He collected the excess from your lips with his thumb, sucking it clean as he kept his eyes locked with yours.
“See how much fun we have together?” he asked, leaning over you until you laid back on top of your desk. “Could do that all next week.”
He kissed you, hard and mean like you needed him to. Perfect teeth that caught your bottom lip between them for a moment before releasing. Whiskey on his tongue that went to your head even though you knew he could hardly feel it. Rough hands feeling up your breasts, giving your nipples a harsh tug that made you moan in his mouth.
“You’re soaked,” he said, his voice husky as he rubbed his fingers between your slick folds with tantalizingly slow strokes. “If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask.”
“Fuck,” you whispered.
“What was that?” 
You groaned in frustration. “Just fuck me already.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” 
His mouth was on yours again, nearly distracting you from the sound of a zipper, the your gut clenching in anticipation as he pulled his cock from his pants.
It’d been a while since you had to brace yourself to take him, but you were wet, and maybe a little more than tipsy, so your body gave little resistance when he slid his cock inside you. Though, if Soldier Boy were anything, it was a guy who took what he wanted anyway, giving you hardly a second to get used to the feeling of how his cock stretched your pussy before he was pounding into you with harsh, unforgiving thrusts that made you grip the edge of your desk. 
Sometimes you forgot how strong he was. Hell, so did he, and there was little else you could do but lay there and take what he gave you. In all honesty, it was nice letting someone else take charge after having to hold it together all day. Let him fuck the stress out of you and replace it with all the aches and bruises that came with having sex with the strongest man on earth. 
“Harder,” you forced out, pushing that damn rolodex onto the floor.
“I go any harder, I’m gonna break you in half, and I don’t wanna do that until I’ve got you locked away in a hotel room for a week.”
“What are you gonna do to me?”
“Whatever the fuck I want. Not like I don’t already.”
You moaned. “Soldier Boy—”
“I’m not pulling out, so you better be on the pill or say your damn prayers,” he growled, his hot breath kissing your skin. You were on the pill, but nevertheless your hips bucked at his words, pussy clenching around his cock. “Oh shit, you want that, don’t you?”
“Yes—oh my god!” you cried out, muscles cramping as your orgasm pulsed through you, pleasure stealing your breath, choking you gently enough to leave you dizzy. “Yesyesyes—fuck!” Your heart was beating so fast you thought it was going to explode in your chest, especially as he kept mercilessly pounding into you, chasing his own release. 
He soon came with a groan, his cock twitching inside you as he bottomed out, practically knocking the wind out of you with a particularly hard thrust. 
You felt empty and sticky when he pulled out, and you didn’t want to think about the poor soul who was gonna be cleaning the mess you and him left behind the following morning, because you sure as hell weren’t in any shape to clean up the cum that was leaking out of you and onto the floor.
You put your hands on your chest, trying to catch your breath as he stood over you. The guy hardly broke a sweat, and you felt like you just ran the New York City Marathon. Super stamina. God fucking bless America.
“Hey,” he said, waving his hand in front of your face. “You good?”
“Sure,” you managed to answer. “Except now I don’t know how I’m gonna walk out of here, let alone get home later.”
“The ride up to the 99th is quicker. And if you need more convincing about Miami—“
You pursed your lips, considering the work you still had left to do before you could reasonably call it a night. But you were tired, and admittedly drunk, and Soldier Boy was already hard again. “I might.”
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