#chub answers

[captainrufflebanger]

Hope it doesn't comes out as a weird ask but thank you for drawing Alci with stomach it's a blessing 🙏 (trying to use beautiful words but it makes me feral in a good way)

I'm so tired of twig skinny anime depictions with nonexistent waist. Sometimes she looks younger than her own daughters

I get two kinds of ask-comments and I love them both equally. Dear anons, allow me to share with you my wisdom which is:

[quandledlngle69]

fawk i always get so shy whenever i comr across fine shyts w good writing (ahem YOU!!) vro your writings make me want to 😻

omg anon don't literally got me like this in my bed:

omg im so happy you like my works, this is also a sign not to be shy w me i promise you i'm literally the weirdest and nicest person ever LMFAO aaa if anything IM SHY AF don't evennnn

hope you have a good day/night luv ya mwuah <3

[samichubs]

Let me get this straight you weigh over 300 pounds, look like your maternity wear is painted on you, and yet you still want to gain another 2/3rds of your already morbidly obese body weight?

Girl you're such a far gone fatass it isn't even funny. All those calories went to your head fattening up your mind way more than just your chubby second chin. There's no way you'll be able to gain any amount of self control in these next few hundred pounds. Odds are you're well past the point of no return and you'll be destined to keep eating ridiculously sized portions reserved for catering orders like the huge fatty you are.

I wonder what they'll think when you waddle back into the store meant for pregnant people only to come out of the dressing room threatening to burst out of their largest of plus sizes, answering the question of whether or not you were knocked up or simply a fat piggy. If their eyes don't pop out of their head then, they probably will when they see you making your way to the food court right after. Completely unable to go as much as an hour or two without gorging yourself. What a fat cow you've become.

I really want to hit 400 pounds so bad, it's my destiny. And then maybe 500.. who knows. Maybe if I hit 400, I'll never go back and just keep eating and eating. No point in turning back now, right..?

[musette22]

The fact that you all think that’s what an erection looks like… He’s not hard in that scene. That’s just what men look like without being aroused. There’s a huge (no pun intended) difference between what an aroused and an unaroused man looks like. Lotta virgins on this app.

[gazspookiebear]

Alright, final ask for the night! Can't wait to talk to you again tomorrow though!

What is your character's favorite physical trait they possess? (Gotta know what they look like! Sorry!)

6. What is something your character is proud to own?

3. What season would your character say they're most similar to?

12. How would your character react to being put in a position of leadership?

12. Is your character more likely to give advice or seek it?

Anyway, have a nice day! See you again tomorrow! ^^

Fav physical trait is their back rolls. They're not exactly fat, they're just built like a rectangle and have a thick layers of skin. There's something so nice to them about seeing the bit of softness of their body in all it's glory.

6) They're proud of their pocket knife. It might seem silly, but they've had it for a long time and it's served them well.

3) Probably spring. The weather can be bitter and brisk, but it holds the promise of beauty and new life.

12) They wouldn't exactly panic, but they wouldn't be too happy about it. They're not much of a leader, and people don't/can't always communicate/listen to them.

12) They're more likely to seek advice. They're always trying to learn more and improve themself, and they're a bit young to be handing out life advice just yet.

[fat-house-cat-vibes]

ok what is your biggest fantasy that you still hope to achive?

Sorry I haven't answered this sooner!!! I'd say given how little fantasies I've actually gotten to do just about every single one! Granted at the moment the thought of being funnel fed or getting stuffed over the course of a date have been rattling around my mind for a good bit these days

[naughtynoodle056]

ngl your art is like. a huge inspiration to me even if i dont rlly have a nsfw blog shejfkgkj. as a fat guy (~250lbs) it feels so great to have someone draw us with realistic body types & not just thicker legs & hips. also as an artist thank you so much for putting double chins on your characters its so good <3

Y'all don't know how much asks like this mean to me wahhhhh 🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖💖

Yes fat kink go brrRRRRrrRRRRRR but I also DO try to draw my silly kink art with lots of love and I'm touched that others seem to feel the same way 🥹

Also double chins are cute and I resent the fact that people leave them out so much xD I know some fat people don't gain much on their face but I hardly think it's like 96.8% of fat folks xDD

[nanamisgirly]

you're bit too possessive toward your nerdྀི

the moment you spot them through the glass wall of the library study room, something primal inside you snaps.

your nerd. your sweet, tall, stuttering nerd.

and some other girl leaning all over him. all giggles and twirls of her stupid hair, looking up at him like he hung the stars. you can practically see the way her fingers brush “innocently” against his forearm. and gojo—this sweet, beautiful idiot gojo. he's just smiling, shyly pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, completely, utterly oblivious of the advances the girl is making.

you see red. not the cute, flirty kind of jealous. no. 

you see murder.

by the time you stomp into the study room, he lights up the second he sees you—like a golden retriever seeing its favorite person. “babyy!” he blurts, half-standing so fast he nearly knocks over the chair. his knees bang the table. his pen scatter. he's flushed pink already, hands fidgeting with the hem of his stupid neat sweater, beaming at you like you're the sun itself.

meanwhile, the girl beside him falters, confused as hell when you swoop in, grab a fistful of his collar and yank him down into a messy kiss—a possessive and mean one, kissing him like you're marking him, like you're making a fucking declaration.

gojo gasps against your mouth, stunned, but immediately melts, tilting his head to give you more. he kisses back with desperate little noises, afraid if he doesn't, you'll change your mind and leave. when you pull back, he's breathless, blinking at you all dazed and drunk, glasses slipping halway down his nose. “i missed you…” he whispers.

you don't answer him, to focusing on the other girl. staring straight at her awkward form peeking up her books, face pale. you tilt your head and smile—sharp, unfriendly, a predator showing teeth. she scurries away without a word.

gojo blinks between you and the empty chair, confusion pinching his brows. “she…left? we didn't end the explanations—”

you grab his jaw in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips squish pouty. “you,” you hiss, leaning so close your breath fans his pink ears, “are so fucking stupid, satoru.” his wide, panicked eyes blink down at you. “i-i am?” he stutters, looking on the verge of tears just because you're mad at him. “i-i didn't even—i mean…i was j-just doing the private lesson…i-i told you about it!” he babbles, desperate. not understanding a thing.

you shake his head a little by the jaw, making his glasses slip down worse. “yeah, yeah. i agreed on a private lesson." you snarl, voice dripping poison-sweet. "not private fucking sex.” you yank his wrist, dragging him out of the little study room, ignoring the curious heads turning to you. 

satoru stumbles after you, tripping over his own feet—over himself just to keep up. “y-you're mad,” he whines, almost breathless, cheeks burning red. “w-what did i…i didn't—”

his voice gets smaller when you spin around, shoving him back hard against the nearest wall. his back thuds against the cold surface, and he freezes up, chest heaving. “you really don't get it, huh?” 

that dumb, pretty face of his—lips pink from your previous kiss and from him nervously chewing them, his glasses crooked, his hair all messed up—god, you could eat him alive. “you let that clingy bitch touch you like that?” you spit. “smile at her like that? let her giggle and bat her lashes like you didn't already have someone who should be the only thing you look at??”

satoru is practically vibrating in place, like a kicked puppy. his Adam's apple bobs hard when he swallows. “i-i didn't notice!” he chokes out. “i swear, angel, i didn't! i-i didn't even l-look at her. .” your nails scrape up his chest through his hoodie, making him whimper. “you're mine, aren't you, 'toru?” he nods so fast you think he might give himself whiplash. “y-yes!! yours! of c-course, only yours!”

your hand snakes lower, palming the half-chub tenting his sweats. poor thing :( so quick to get hard just from yelling at him. “you're lucky you're cute,” you snap, but your heart is hammering at how real the panic was in his voice. 

you squeeze him through the fabric. his hips jolt into your hand with a pathetic little gasp. you watch his pretty white lashes flutter, poor boy was genuinely confused why you're so pissed—poor sweet nerd who only ever wanted you :((

you click your tongue. “my pretty nerd,” you mock sweetly, squeezing his cock harder through his pants, making his knees buckle. “getting hard just ‘cause i’m scolding you? bet you'd cum just from me slapping your face.” 

“i-i could! i would, i-if that's what y-you—ah!—want,” his mouth works uselessly searching for words, his brain short-circuiting because your hand's still lazily stroking him through his sweats. you lean up, biting his jaw hard enough to make him whines. 

"you’re gonna make it up to me," you murmur against his skin, voice syrupy sweet. "gonna let me use you however I want. gonna be a good boy for me, huh, satoru?" he was towering over you but he was so, so submissive.

he nods so fast again his glasses damn near fall off. "a-anything," he breathes. "please. please let me—lemme be good—i'll be so good, promise!"

[lay-z]

Simon Riley, who fucks a pocket pussy for the first time.

On one particularly nerve-racking afternoon, Simon finds a sleek black gift box on his office desk. The little card attached to it is signed by both Johnny and Kyle.

Almost reluctantly, he opens the lid with a deep sigh and immediately feels his heart drop at the sight of the shiny new fleshlight greeting him, a red bow wrapped around it.

And then the Lieutenant bristles as he recalls that brief yet incredibly stupid conversation his Sergeants had during a break on their last op, another chat he didn't even wanted to be involved in.

“Oi, ye own any sex toys, Lt.? Like a pocket pussy? Cock ring?” Johnny had thrown at him bluntly while you and Kyle tilted your heads like a pair of owls, patiently waiting for your fucking superior to answer.

In that moment, Simon had known that every single answer he’d give the bloody Scot would be the wrong one—and the thoughtful gift he just received is a clear sign of that.

Negative, Simon has never owned a bloody sex toy. Never even thought about getting one; the sheer thought of walking into a sex shop, already looking like a bloody creep with his mask and all, is enough to give him high blood pressure and heart palpitations. No, his hand has served him just fine up to this point.

Yet, as he keeps staring down into the box, his cock chubs up in his cargos as he imagines sinking into this perfect mould of a cunt, heart fluttering more violently when he notices the tube of lube that the two numpties have thought of putting in there as well—oh so fucking considerate.

And so what if he ends up fucking himself with the toy while he sits in his office chair? Prick and balls out, manspreading widely, biting his bottom lip so harshly, he’s drawing blood, when he first watches its silicone folds spread as it swallows his throbbing, flushed cock whole.

It squelches obscenely when his hips jerk up and he bottoms out so nicely, his eyes roll back into his bloody skull, blinding him momentarily. His chest heaves with shuddering breaths, balls drawing up painfully as his orgasm builds up pathetically fast at the base of his spine, and his mind is reeling at the feeling of its tight, wet channel gripping his thick shaft so easily.

And so what if he ends up cumming barely a thrust later, when his mind slips him and he imagines it’s your pussy—warm and real and all his—that he’s currently buried inside while you’re riding him?

Well now he sure has a fucking problem.

[bi-writes]

the new baby you take care of is the cutest baby you've ever met. (a lil dubcon, baby trapping, 18+)

he has a big head with a tuff of little blond waves, and he has the brightest brown eyes in the entire world. he smiles at every face you make at him, and he takes a bottle like a champ and will nap for hours as long as you're quiet.

his father has a strict schedule set for him. when you met that big man for the very first time, you were speechless. your teeth had clacked together with how fast you tried to close your gawking mouth, but it was impossible not to with how much he towered over you, nearly touching the top of the doorway.

he is methodical, down to every minute. tacked onto the fridge, he had shown you his son's current schedule, which he emphasized with a dead glare must be followed to a T.

two feedings in the morning followed by a nap. another feeding. a longer nap. another feeding. another nap. all separated in increments of 45 minutes, with instructions on how to use the bottle warmer and how to measure the formula.

his son does not cry. his father had told you, if he cries, y'r doin' somethin' wrong. and he was right. the baby only cried when he was hungry, and he would fall into a dead sleep as soon as you gave him a bottle.

it's odd, to take care of someone else's baby. especially this man's. there's no woman in the house, as far as you can tell. the whole house is decorated very minimally, cozy and in shades of warm greens and cool blues and browns. there are no heeled boots by the door or pretty fur coats, and whenever you pass by his bedroom, only one side of his bed ever looks lived-in. there are no pictures on the walls, no makeup in the bathroom drawers, and no pads or tampons under the sink.

just a big, unfeeling man and his big, adorable baby.

but you think that your actions to get this big, unfeeling man to like you are starting to have the wrong kind of implications.

it starts with dinner. you start to make it, using the ingredients from his fridge to make stews and buttery mashed potatoes and roasted veggies. the image of you stirring a pot with his baby on your hip has not left him, and whenever you don't have some kind of meal cooking when he gets home, you answer to someone curt, annoyed, and cold, even to the touch.

then it's the decorating. you thought his couch was a little bare, so now there's a few throw blankets laying across the back of it. there's a vase of pretty tulips on the coffee table. you're growing herbs on the windowsill, little pots of thyme and rosemary and basil. you leave house shoes by the door now, and even when you're not there, he sees those fuzzy pink slippers in the foyer, and he can't help the way he chubs up just seeing them when you're not around.

you start to bring some extra changes of clothes. after the baby spit up on you more than once in a day, you bring a duffel bag with you once a week with extra changes of clothes. he snarls when he sees your clothes in one of his drawers; pretty black panties and matching bras, all laid out under your lounge wear right next to his fucking socks.

the toothbrush next to his in the bathroom. the multi-colored chapsticks in the drawers. tampons and pads organized in the cabinet, your moisturizer next to his shaving cream. he smacks his fist against the wall when he sees the finished package of your birth control in the trash because wot the fuck are y'doing taking those things when y'know i want another--

he can see you in the baby monitor. swaying in the dark of his son's room, the baby's head on your chest as you rock him softly. you're singing a little, a gentle hum to soothe him enough that his eyes start closing. he groans a little when he sees your eyes shut as you kiss his son on the forehead, cooing at him as you pat his little back and tell him to have sweet dreams.

you're making brownies when he comes home that night. his son is seated in his high chair, clapping his hands, and you're smiling at him and cooing in that baby voice you do as you take the warm brownies out of the oven. when you see him emerge from the darkness of his living room, you smile at him, taking off the oven mitts.

"hi, simon," you say softly, and his pupils dilate when you slip a hand over his son's head to soothe him. "i made some dessert, hope that's okay. thought you might wanna try my new recipe."

simon comes into the kitchen as you take his baby out of his high chair. you hoist him up against your hip, and when simon comes closer, you giggle as tilts his head to the side and stares down at you both. you tilt your head back a little, blinking up at him, and the flutter of your lashes is enough to have him rock hard in his cargos as his hands curl into frustrated fists at his sides.

"i'm gonna put him down for bed, it's a little late," you tell him. you hoist his son up a little higher on your hip, picking up his little chubby arm and waving up at simon. "say goodnight, daddy."

simon grins under his mask at the soft lilt of your voice. you try not to squeak when one of his big hands slides around your waist to hold you at your back, and he bends down to kiss his son's forehead through his mask.

"goodnight, my boy."

you try not to linger on the idea that he may have grabbed your ass as you walked away. no, his arms are just so long, they grazed you while you passed by him.

the baby always goes down nice and easy. one bottle later, with a full stomach, he's rubbing his little eyes and fussing in your arms as he tries to fall asleep. he's a mover, simon's little one--always grasping around with his arms and flopping onto his side in the bed. oftentimes, after a nap, he's facing the opposite direction and on the other end of the crib when you come to get him.

so you shouldn't be surprised when as he's falling asleep, his little grubby hands reach for you and pull.

your eyes widen when you hear the pop of buttons. you look down, gasping, when you see his son has grabbed onto the front of your blouse and pulled the first few buttons out. they clatter onto the floor in a mess, and you're not able to see where they go with it so dark in his room.

"oh, god!"

you try to be gentle as you set the baby down in his crib. he immediately sticks his thumb in his mouth with his head lolling to the side, and you try to pick up anything you step on as you hurry out of the room, trying to hold your shirt together.

it's useless. you're standing there in the hallway, hastily shutting the baby's room closed, tits out at eight in the evening.

"tha' why he so good ta ya, mama?"

your eyes bug out of your head when you see simon there. he's standing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes are focused on your poor open blouse. the bra you're wearing leaves nothing to the imagination--just mesh with underwire, and when simon comes closer, there's virtually nothing separating you when he reaches up with that gloved hand and cups one breast, thumb smoothing over your nipple before he tugs on it gently.

"wha--simon--"

"thinks y'r his mum, pretty tits out like tha'," simon hisses. "'f ya wanted it so bad, why didn't ya just say?"

"simon--"

he tsks, using both hands this time to grip your blouse by the edges and tug it down your arms. it falls around your elbows, and he takes the straps of your bra with it, until it's pooled around your waist and your tits fall free.

"fuckin' hell," he breathes, and your lips part gently as he hikes up his mask and spits on your nipples before sucking them into his mouth. "mmmph..."

you arch your back as he rips the rest of the buttons off with one smooth tug. your blouse falls, and your bra follows it, until you're in nothing but your skirt, backing up into the darkness of his bedroom as he kicks the door shut. you scramble to get him back on top of you when your knees hit the edge of the bed, and you're laying down--grabbing around his shoulders as you try to guide his mouth back to your breasts where he can suckle on them with that filthy mouth of his.

"knew it--" he rasps. "fuck, i knew it--"

your eyes squeeze shut when he ruts his hips against yours. your panties are ruined, slick wet and digging uncomfortably into your folds, but the scratch of simon's jeans have your back bowing at a hard angle, your fingers sliding between your bodies as you reach for his zipper. you gasp when you feel him under your hand, straining against denim, the girth of him tying your stomach in hard knots as you think about what it'll take to get you open enough for him to slip in.

"keepin' me fat," simon murmurs. "holdin' my baby like tha', wot did ya think was goin' ta happen, eh?"

"h-huh?"

"'m gonna make you fat, too, swee'eart," he says, smoothing his hand over your tummy. "saw those little pills in y'r bag. it won't take today, but we'll try again tomorrow, yeah?"

you're drooling as he fucks you. your hips are hiked up, your skirt flipped up as his thighs smack against your ass. you're not privy to the way the fat of you shakes every time he's buried to the hilt, but simon appreciates it, tongue out as he watches you push back against him to try and get yourself filled quicker. he traces your spine with his fingers, leaning over you as he watches your fingers dig into his dark sheets and grip for dear life as he gives it to you fast and deep. it's a mess of wet between you, and you know the bed underneath you will be soaked by the time he's done with you, but you can't think about that when the very thing you've been wanting since the day you met him is so close, so within reach.

you haven't taken a single one of those pills since the first week you met that fat, beautiful baby. maybe simon didn't take too close a look at the dated little pills in your bag and in the bin, the little calendar you used to mark rotting away in a forgotten pocket, gathering dust.

when simon comes, your mouth is filled with saliva, and you gurgle between barely-lucid giggles as your hips sink into the mattress. he's saying something, but you don't hear it. instead you reach down with your fingers and stuff them inside, trying to gather as much of his cum and keep it. when simon tries to cum in your mouth later, you nearly bite his dick off.

how dare he try and waste it?

[samichubs]

cant wait to see the bio get updated to 350… then 400… then 500 ;)

me too, maybe even 600..

[matchingbatbites]

Explicit | 2k words | First time blowjob + Getting together

Found this in my drafts and finished it off. I know this is inspired by a post but I cannot find it.

"Can I blow you?"

Eddie freezes where he's unpacking his bag at the Harrington dining table, the first to arrive for tonight's D&D session. He blinks before turning to look at Steve, who is leaning casually in the doorway like he hadn't just offered Eddie the chance to live out one of his frequent fantasies.

"I'm sorry, can you repeat that? I think my ears stopped working for a second there."

Steve rolls his eyes and crosses his arms, his hip popping out in that bitchy way that makes Eddie want to bite him. "Can I blow you?" he asks again, this time with more emphasis, and yeah, Eddie heard him right the first time.

Eddie says "What's with the sudden interest, Stevie?" which he thinks is a valid question, considering the fact that Steve has never shown any inclination towards any dick, let alone Eddie's. He'd gotten confirmation of such when he came out to Steve a couple months ago and received a prompt "Oh cool. You can talk to me about boys if you want, but I don't know how much help I'll be."

The Steve in front of him exhales sharply, clearly holding back a bitchier response as he replies "Do you want a blowjob or not, man?"

It only takes Eddie half a second to answer yes, because even if this is some fever dream, there's no way he's going to turn down the man he's been crushing on. All the more reason to agree, honestly.

"Here?" Eddie asks, and Steve shakes his head.

"Upstairs, in case one of the kids shows up early."

Right, of course.

Eddie follows Steve up to his room, where the other boy shuts and locks the door behind them before he's pushing Eddie up against the solid surface.

There's no build up, no easing into it; no needy kisses or teasing touches like Eddie would expect from Steve Harrington. Steve just drops to his knees and starts on Eddie's belt, and all Eddie can do is watch as the hottest guy he knows pulls down his pants and boxers just enough to expose him.

Steve's eyebrows shoot up and his face flushes pink as he takes in Eddie's dick for the first time. Eddie's too distracted by how pretty Steve is to ask if he likes what he sees, and Steve doesn't say anything as he wraps his hand around the shaft, seeming to get a feel for it. Eddie is only about half-chubbed, but begins to rapidly approach rock hard as Steve swipes his thumb over the piercing that sits below the head.

"Did that hurt?" Steve asks, voice thick with something, and Eddie shrugs.

"Yeah. Made jacking off pretty tough for a while."

Steve hums in response and finally gives it a proper stroke, and Eddie groans low, even though it's a bit drier than he'd like. The other boy must realize the same thing, because he pulls his hand back and - fuck - spits in it before he's grabbing Eddie's dick and trying again.

It's much better, and Eddie hums encouragingly as Steve jerks him off, his eyes focused on the head that's getting redder and redder as Eddie's dick hardens. Eddie bites his lip as he watches Steve focus on his task, as he speeds up and slows down, trying a few things out.

Eventually Steve leans in and licks over the tip, pulling another groan from Eddie, and it's like Steve suddenly remembers that the dick in his hand is actually attached to a person. He looks up at Eddie, his gaze swirling with wonder and desire as he takes the head into his mouth and sucks.

"Fuuuuck, Stevie," Eddie groans, unable to keep his mouth shut at the sight before him. "Look like a fuckin' dream on your knees for me, baby."

Steve shudders at the praise and pulls back to mouth at the piercing, and Eddie desperately needs to know if Steve has done this before, because if not then he's a fucking natural. He clocks every one of Eddie's reactions and abuses the knowledge, tongue flicking the piercing or lips suckling on the tip. It's not long before he takes more into his mouth, sinking down onto Eddie's cock as far as he can before pulling back with a wet noise.

He quickly finds his rhythm, bobbing on Eddie's dick like he's done it a hundred times, and Eddie gives up on trying to be cool about this whole thing. He pushes his hands into Steve's hair and pulls him closer, forcing more of his dick into Steve's mouth.

"Tap my leg if you need to stop," Eddie says as he gives a shallow thrust into that wet heat. Steve just moans, eyes fluttering as he lets Eddie guide him, his hands grabbing Eddie's jeans and holding on as Eddie fucks into his mouth.

Eddie tries to be careful; he doesn't want to hurt Steve, but the boy is just so beautiful with tears welling up in his eyes and a pink blush staining his skin. He snaps his hips, pushing the head of his dick into Steve's throat just enough to hear him choke, and Steve winces at the intrusion but doesn't tap out.

Eddie croons a soft "That's it, baby. Such a good boy, taking my dick so well," and Steve's reaction is even stronger than before, the way he melts into the encouragement even more obvious. It makes Eddie want to shower Steve in praise, to smother him with it, so he never doubts how perfect he is.

"Look at me, Stevie," he commands, and when Steve's eyes lift to meet Eddie's - glossy with unshed tears and a bit unfocused - it's enough to push Eddie right to the edge.

"Fuck, I'm-"

Eddie yanks Steve off and strips his dick in quick strokes until he's coming, shooting his spend over Steve's beautiful, dazed face. He takes just a second to catch his breath before he drops to the floor and kisses Steve hard, smearing his cum between their lips. Steve whines into it as he kisses back, and Eddie blindly reaches down, searching for the hard line of Steve's dick in his pants.

Instead, his hand meets a damp spot, and Eddie breaks the kiss so he can look down to confirm his suspicion.

"Holy shit, Steve. Did you come in your pants just from sucking me off?"

"I'm, uh- just as surprised as you are," Steve says, his voice a little scratchier than it was before. "I wasn't expecting to enjoy that as much as I did."

Fuck. Eddie forgot about this part. The part where Steve admits that he just wanted to see what it was like and figured Eddie was the perfect candidate for his little experiment. Eddie doesn't mind, really, not when this whole scenario has been kind of a dream come true, but that doesn't mean it's going to hurt any less.

They're interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching, followed by a rapid knocking on the door. "Steve! You in here? Eddie's stuff is here but we can't find him!"

Fucking Dustin.

"Yeah, me and Steve are here!" Eddie replies. "We're talking about something, I'll be down in a sec!"

Dustin gives a "Hurry up, man!" through the door, and Eddie shakes his head as he listens to him walk away. He stands and helps Steve move from the floor to the nearby desk chair.

"I'll, uh. Go grab you a towel," he says, and Steve nods.

Eddie quickly fixes his pants before heading to the bathroom across the hall. He splashes some water on his face to help get rid of the flush, then wets a washcloth while keeping an ear out for any wandering children. The coast seems to keep clear as he goes back, and a shiver runs down his spine at the sight of Steve, who had slipped off his bottoms while Eddie was gone.

Fuck, Eddie would love to get his mouth on that cock.

He passes Steve the cloth and just stands there as he wipes off his face, then his dick, unable to look away.

"So, uh. Where did that come from?" Eddie can't help but ask, his curiosity winning out over his self-preservation. Steve looks up at him and blushes, even the tips of his ears going pink.

"Um. Dustin was ranting to me last week, talking about how you're always so strict with everyone during your games, and he thought— Well, he thought if you got laid you might go easier on them."

Eddie blinks, absorbing the information for a moment. "Did he… ask you? To do this?"

Steve shakes his head and moves to the dresser to grab a clean pair of sweatpants.

"No, that was— that was all me. It just popped into my head, like Hey, I could do that, and it just wouldn't go away. I thought I could at least ask, and if you said no, then it wouldn't be a big deal."

So, it's exactly what Eddie thought. "Right. Yeah. You were just— trying it out with someone you know, got it." Eddie turns and pushes his hands into his hair, tugging on it a bit. Stupid pretty boys and their stupid eyes, making Eddie feel things when all he is is a placeholder, an experiment.

Steve makes a soft noise and grabs Eddie by the arm. Eddie relents as Steve turns him back around so he can look at him. "Eddie, that wasn't— Yeah, okay. I didn't really like, think about it before Dustin brought it up. But I know I like being around you, and I know I liked that, so maybe— If you like me, maybe you'd be willing to give me a shot?"

He looks so earnest, so hopeful, those hazel eyes wide and wanting. There's no world in which Eddie would even want to turn him down. Instead he takes Steve's hand and rubs his thumb over Steve's knuckles. "If I liked that, he says. Like it wasn't a fucking dream come true."

Steve breaks into a beaming smile and steps closer. "Oh yeah? Dream about that often?" he asks, and Eddie rolls his eyes a little even as he sways into Steve's space.

Cocky motherfucker.

"Do I dream about the hottest guy I've ever seen giving me a blowjob like he was made for it? Yeah, might have happened once or twice, baby."

Steve huffs and closes the gap between them, pressing their lips together in a chaste, achingly sweet kiss. Eddie hums into it and moves his free hand to Steve's hip, his fingers just slipping under the hem of his shirt. S

Before they can do anything more, a banging comes from the door behind them, along with an annoyed "Can you two hurry up?! We need to get started if we want to finish on time!"

Eddie makes a mental note to kill Dustin's character tonight as he turns, still holding on to Steve. "Have some fucking patience, Henderson! Go back downstairs before I make you roll with disadvantage all night!"

Dustin squawks a "What?! That's not fair!" and Eddie just rolls his eyes while Steve presses his face to Eddie's shoulder, muffling his laughter.

"Now, Dustin!"

Dustin grumbles but stomps off, and Eddie wraps his arms around Steve's waist. "Something funny, Stevie?"

Steve shakes his head. "I just think it's funny that this whole thing happened because Dustin thought you were being too hard on them, but it's looking like you'll be even worse now."

"Oh yeah," Eddie says with a grin. He gives Steve another quick kiss and says "I'm gonna be a monster now, because instead of being up here kissing you, I have to go listen to them argue for hours."

"You love them," Steve counters, and yeah, Eddie does. "You better go before they decide to break the door down."

Eddie nods and reluctantly pulls away. "We, uh. We can talk more about this later, but for now— Boyfriends? Maybe?"

Steve beams and nods. "Yeah. Boyfriends. Now go have fun."

Edit: Inspiration post found!

[tojisun]

simon grunts, his chest heaving as he palms at his chub, tracing the twitching muscle of his cock and letting out a hiss at the muted pleasure that razes through him. he shivers at the heated look you give him, your pretty eyes awash with desire, scalding as it trails down the lines of his bulk until it settles on his flesh.

“ah,” you whisper and simon nearly moans at the awe in your voice.

“s’right, baby,” he says, feeling the way he pulses underneath his low-hanging sweats. “s’all f’r you.”

there is a whine that drags itself from the base of your throat, so primal in the way it scratches your vocal cords, and simon has to fist his cock to stop himself from rutting against his palm.

“i can’t,” you whine, pouting, your eyes still trained on his groin. “‘m gonna be late for work.”

“please,” he croaks out, breathless himself. “how about jus’ the tip, love? jus’ give daddy a taste of you ‘round me, yeah?”

simon knows it is playing dirty to pull this card on you—to exploit your one weakness—but simon’s guilt is tucked underneath his stretching need, the desire bloating as it leaks past his rationality, leaving him with thinning restraints.

your sharp inhale is all the answer he needs.

he bites the inside of his cheek to tamp down the smirk dancing to the corners of his lips.

“okay,” you reply, tentative and quiet. “but just the tip, you promise?”

“swear,” simon murmurs.

like a goddamn liar.

he relishes in the squeals dripping from your parted lips, only for them to be muffled into your pillow.

he’s got you on your knees, your front all but pressed flat on the bed, your arms having lost the energy to keep yourself up as simon fucks you from the back. he’s got fistfuls of your ass, using them as sweet, sweet leverage as he manhandles your body back to his cock.

“so good f’r daddy, sweet’art,” he rumbles, his voice so deep it even sounds foreign to him. “so, so fuckin’ good, love.”

he punctuates his words with hard thrusts; drawing his cock out slowly, deliberately torturous so he can watch the way your hole grips at his cock, not wanting to let him go, before punching it back in. he doesn’t stop and keeps pushing his cock past the gummy press of your walls until his hips are pressed flush to the fat of your ass.

then, he repeats the process—sharp snaps of his hips leaving you twitching, and simon watches with a crazed giddiness as your hands uselessly scratch at the sheets as though that could tether you.

he bends forward, his bulk covering your trembling body. “such a cute darlin’ for me, lovie.” he ruts his cock along a particular sweet spot. “say ‘thank you’ to daddy?”

he hears a warbled reply from where your head is pressed to your pillow.

“hmm? wha’s ‘at?”

simon cups a hand on your forehead and carefully pulls, tipping your head up just enough that he can hear you.

he hears a hiccuped sob, then, “than’ you, daddy.”

simon giggles and presses a kiss on the back of your head. “what a good doll y’are.”

something about that makes your body tremble, spasming in his hold, and simon watches with awe as your toes curl, before he has to let go of you at the sudden tightening of your walls. his eyes go white, his ears ringing with a sharp static.

he feels so, so overwhelmed at the expanding euphoria that washes over him, lapping at the synapses from the back of his skull to the cavity of his ribs.

“you came,” simon mutters in awe, his voice passing through his teeth like a gritted hiss. “christ, lovie-”

-

[fat-house-cat-vibes]

Hi, this isn't really an ask, more of a confession. I just wanna lick your tummy, do some girls like that?

Please do! Jiggle, rub, bite, kiss, and or lick makes me all squirmy and blushy^^ soooo, yes some of us gals do really want that anon

[naughtynoodle056]

That feeling when you find out your hot friend has an equally hot older brother cousin lol

[luxcuriousao3]

Task Force 141 + The Best They've Ever Had

Just thinking about you being the best fuck the boys have ever had.

warnings: smut (obvi), piv, oral (f and m receiving), unprotected sex, protected sex, fingering, briefly mentioned s/m but no actual s/m, reader is kinda a fuck boy (fuck girl?), slight hint of dacryphillia if you squint maybe, no use of y/n

Gaz

You go for Gaz first—he's the prettiest, and he's incredibly smooth. He charms you easily, makes you comfortable enough to invite him back to your place despite having just met that night. He's all confidence and no arrogance. He knows he looks good and he knows he fucks good. He's sure he's going to blow your mind, leave you aching for more…

Instead, you give him head so good his climax comes early, his come flooding your mouth. A broken moan leaves him when you swallow and look up at him through your lashes, a sweet, innocent smile on your face, but your eyes are sultry enough to get a man hard in seconds. His spent cock twitches valiantly, but his orgasm was so strong that he knows he won’t be able to go again for hours.

He’s incredibly embarrassed, but he tries not to show it, and gets you off twice in apology—once with his fingers and once with his mouth. You see him out at the end of the night. He was hoping to stay longer, perhaps get to fuck you after all, but you’re a busy woman, and you’ve got things to do early tomorrow morning.

Gaz doesn’t tell the rest of the boys about this particular hookup, knowing he’d never hear the end of it from Soap—but he keeps the memory of it close for long, lonely missions.

Price

Perhaps surprisingly, Price is your next victim hookup. He doesn’t get out much, but you manage to catch him on one of his rare nights off.

He takes you back to his place, a small but neat flat not far from the base he’s stationed at. There’s a fine layer of dust on all of the furniture, showing how rarely he’s home, and he’s amused by you jokingly asking if he’s actually breaking you into someone else’s apartment.

He pours you both a glass of wine, and you talk for a while as you drink, continuing to get to know one another. Well, it’s really just him getting to know you—he’s a private man, and he knows how to talk without actually saying much—but he finds that he doesn’t mind that. You’re quite a talented speaker, genuine and animated about every topic that comes to mind. Your little quirks and mannerisms only make you more attractive.

Once both your glasses are empty, and the two of you have drifted close enough to touch, he cups your chin in one hand and leans down to kiss you. He can feel you smile against his lips, and you pull away with a little giggle that makes his brows raise in curiosity.

“Your beard tickles,” you tell him, before sitting up a little more so you can kiss him again. It’s endlessly endearing, and he can’t stop himself from deepening the kiss, his cock chubbing up in his jeans. He’s eager to find out if his beard will tickle your cunt, too.

Not too long later, he gets his answer—a resounding yes—as well as discovers a new addiction. You taste like heaven, like well aged whiskey, like his favorite brand of cigars, and he suddenly realizes he no longer wants to die in the field in some fiery blaze of glory.

He’d much rather you just smother him with your cunt.

Unfortunately, he has a duty to his country, so he reluctantly shifts you off of him so he can breathe. It’s for the best, really, because he’s about to come just from eating you out. You don’t give him a chance to rest, though, moving down his body and sinking down onto his hard cock. You both gasp at the same time—Price from the pleasure, and you from the stretch. Clearly, you hadn’t realized just how thick he was, and now you’re tearing up and pouting while sat on his cock. He shushes you sweetly, stroking your cheek and rubbing your clit, enamored by the adorable picture you make. Soon enough, the sting fades, and you start riding him like your life depends on it. He plays with your tits the whole time, sucking and licking your nipples, his hands on your hips guiding your movements.

When he comes, it’s pure ecstasy. He’s never felt this good before, not even with his ex-wife. He knows then that he wants to keep you—and he can only hope that his seed filling your sweet pussy takes root deep in your womb.

Silly you forgot to put a condom on him, and of course, he didn’t see any reason to remind you. You sigh when you realize, and mutter something about getting the morning after pill. His grip tightens on your hips for a second, but he forces himself to relax. It’s only eighty percent effective, he tells himself. There’s still a chance.

Ghost

You meet Ghost next. You see him at the bar, all broad shoulders, bulky muscles, and towering height. But what makes you throw caution to the wind is the mask. You sidle on up to him, give him your signature sweet smile when he looks you up and down, and don’t let it phase you when he just grunts in reply to your greeting. It takes longer than it usually would to get Ghost back to your apartment—most guys are raring to go once you give them the signal—but after a few gentle touches, one long winded ramble about a topic you’re passionate about, and a couple shots, he gets that familiar look of want in his dark eyes, and you know you’ve got him, hook, line, and sinker.

You don’t expect him to be a gentleman, but he insists on making you come on his fingers before he even takes his clothes off. It’s actually really fucking hot, and you’re even more eager than usual to return the favor. You sink down to your knees to try and suck him off, but he effortlessly hoists you back up and tosses you onto the bed, slowly undoing his belt and pulling it off. You spread your legs wide for him and bite your lip, half hoping he’ll snap the belt against your cunt or bind your wrists with it. Instead, he tosses it aside, opens up his fly, rolls on the condom, and presses inside you. He’s fucking massive, and you grasp one of his hands in yours as you whimper and whine through the stretch. He goes slow, at least until you’re adjusted—and then he’s obeying your demands as you order him to give it to you harder, faster, more, more, more.

Ghost has to keep stopping to just grind into you, because the way your tits bounce as he rails you, the sounds you’re making, and the tight, hot, wet grip of your pussy is too fucking much. He’s never been one for hookups really, hasn’t fucked anyone in ages, but there was something about you. Pretty face, beautiful body, and clearly into him, even with the mask—it’s not something he experiences often. He’s struck with the sudden urge to pull off the mask and kiss your lips, swallow every gorgeous gasp and moan you let out—but he can’t, won’t, so instead he buries his face in your neck, panting harshly as he thrusts into you, hard and fast, just like you’re begging for.

When it’s over, and he’s filled the condom with a frankly concerning amount of come, he stays buried deep in your pussy, with you pinned beneath him, his face still tucked into your neck. He doesn’t want to move, and the fact that you seem content to let him stay like that only makes him want you more.

When you finally shift like you want to get up, he has to fight the overwhelming urge to just ignore you. Instead, he finally pulls out of you and sits up, letting his eyes rove every inch of you as he does up his trousers. That little smile you give him makes his heart stutter, and he's torn between fleeing and begging you to let him stay.

You make the decision for him, thanking him for a great fuck and asking him if he needs you to call him an Uber.

Pride stinging and chest aching, Ghost walks back to the barracks.

Soap

Soap’s a stray dog that just wants a forever home. A handsome, lonely, loveable, eager mutt. So when he’s pounding into you in the back seat of your car because he was too excited to wait till you got back to your place, moaning and grunting and whining like the puppy he is, the words just slip out.

“Want ye, want ye tae be mine, please bonnie, want ye all fer myself.”

You coo at him, finding how pussy drunk he is adorable, and thread your fingers through his mohawk to pull him in for a kiss. He groans into your mouth as he comes, humping you through the aftershocks of his orgasm. You giggle, pulling back to nibble at his stubbled jaw as he pants in your ear.

“So?” He asks, voice wrecked but hopeful, and you feel a little bad when you realize his words weren’t just dirty talk. “What aboot it, lamb? Will ye be mine?”

“My pussy that good?” You tease him, trying to let him down easily. You can tell he realizes, his eyes tightening just a little in disappointment before his expression smooths back over into the cocky one he’d charmed his way into your pants with.

“Best I’ve ever had,” he answers, and you can hear the truth of it in his voice, even as he winks at you, holding up a two fingered salute. “Scot’s honor.”

“Pretty sure it’s scout’s honor,” you correct him, but he just smirks and shakes his head.

“Nah,” he says. “Scot’s honor is better. We’re a loyal bunch.”

And Christ, but he’d be a loyal dog to you, if only you’d keep him.