jollytacocandy

[jollytacocandy]

Thank you for making this for me! I love it so much!!!

When your art skills are put on the test, yet you're also limited to a certain art style. This is a drawing I made for @jollytacocandy for their profile, and they specifically requested an art piece where Thomas is surrounded by cats, and although I knew it had been done before, I tried to make it as unique as possible. I do not take art commissions. This was an exception because I wanted to aid a fellow mutual out. That cat on the right knew I struggled with Thomas's left hand, I can feel its judgemental derpy face...

[jollytacocandy]

Idk just posting more stuff from discord

[jollytacocandy]

Here is part two of the story I posted a few days ago.

NSFW, Minors do not interact, 16+, Smut, dark romance, non-con

Marked by the Butcher Pt. 2

The past few days felt confusing. You were sure that you were going to die, but you didn't.

The same old lady you saw at the gas station is now having you call her "mama". Everything feels like a daze, like a bad dream that you want to wake up from but it's your life now. The family has already decided your fate, you are to be his wife.

You weren't sure how to react to this, for sure you didn't like it here but then again no one has ever asked you to be their wife better yet even their girlfriend. You've been out on a date, guys wouldn't even blink twice at you. You're a big girl, always have been and the world was not kind to you. You never thought you were pretty, especially not like the other girls Tommy has encountered.

In a sense you were flattered but you didn't want this. You want to go home but yet you submit to him.

The wedding was short and simple. You got married by the broken down church with Hoyt solemnizing the marriage. Your dress was old and outdated, passed down from Mama's family but the ring was beautiful.

You are a part of the family , you belong to Tommy now. You knew what was coming next, you knew what you had to brace for. Mama and Hoyt have been talking up a storm about the "wedding night".

"You think she can handle the task mama?" Hoyt deviously smirks.

"She ain't small. She can take Tommy. She will have to, it's a wife's duty to take what her husband gives her." Mama already gave you a stern talking about what to expect. You knew what sex was but haven't personally experienced sex yet.

"It's going to burn child. You'll feel like you're being torn and you'll bleed. It will hurt but if you relax and give yourself to him, over time it can be good. " That is what Mama told you.

You take a deep breath as Tommy lifts you and carries you to his room. You clench your jaw and your heart races as you know what's to come.

Tommy places you on his bed.

You clutched the lace of your dress, knuckles white, unsure if you should recoil or stay still. The anxiety and suspension was killing you, you just wanted this night to be over with.

You swallowed hard, throat dry. "Just get it over with." The words slipped out before you could stop them. Thomas gazed at you and quickly grabbed your wrist. You whimper as he comes closer to your face smelling your hair and nips the side of your cheek.

You squeak and look at him confused, he presses against you and you feel his excitement.

He's ready. He's been wanting this since you got here but he resisted. Tommy is a good boy, he wanted to do it right, he wanted to make his mama proud being an honest Christian man that waited for his bride.

Thomas grabs the zipper from the back of your dress and rips the dress off of you roughly.

He's getting impatient, he needs to be inside of you. He admires your flesh. Your large breasts that slightly sag make his mouth water. Your big tummy, so soft, so fucking squishy. God he's going feral. So much flesh, so much warmth,so so so fucking soft. He pushes down on the bed and rips off the only piece of clothing left, your panties. His cock twitches seeing the sight of your beautifully fat and juicy pussy. He's never seen anything so beautiful, so delicious to him. He wanted it and fuck did he need it.

Just one taste, Thomas opens your thick legs and starts licking the outer lips. He opens up your fat pussy and starts nibbling and clicking at your clit. These feelings are overwhelming. He licks faster and faster and you try not to moan too loud as you feel your face burning up.

You felt shameful but you were enjoying the feelings that the butcher was providing you.

He pushes his face to tongue deeper into your cunt, he sounded like a wild animal feasting on his prey. Thomas is leaking with precum, he's too excited. He needs to be inside you.

He takes off his pants and underwear quickly and grabs your legs placing them on his shoulders. He positions himself into your entrance. You bite your lip and brace yourself and he starts pushing his thick head into your cunt.

Tears roll down your cheeks as he pushes more of his thick cock into your hole.

Fuck it burns! You clench your jaw as he stretched you out. He felt fucking massive.

Thomas sees your face wince in pain, he knows it hurts. He feels a little bad that it hurts but a darker side of him feels the rush of you wincing in pain from his cock. You're a big girl. That's why he picked you. You're strong but obedient. You're a good girl. You can take it.

He looks down at you and starts giving you soft but deep thrusts. You grunt from your pussy aching and burning. Thomas gently strokes your cheek while pressing down on your abdomen. It didn't feel as painful anymore, you almost felt comforted by him.

The pain started to die down and strains of pleasure caused you to moan softly. Thomas loved hearing it and he wanted to hear more. He started to pick up the pace going faster, pressing himself against your legs and deeper into your cunt. You moan louder as your pussy tightens around him. You feel your stomach tense and your core tighten as Thomas thrusts. You're about to cum and Thomas seems close too. His thrusts get sloppier with his balls still slapping against your ass. You hear Thomas panting and groaning as he nuzzles himself into the crook of your neck while pounding your pussy. He slams himself as deep as he can and you feel his thick hot cum fill your pussy as you cum hard around his cock.

Thomas collapses on you with both of you breathing hard. He pulls you close to him to hold you, the both of you covered in sweat and cum.

Thomas has never seen anything more beautiful. Thomas never dated or had a wife but he feels so lucky to finally have you.

Edit: This is my first smut story in a while so I'm sorry if it's ass! 😭 Let me know your thoughts!

[jollytacocandy]

Marked by the Butcher:

Thomas Hewitt X Plus sized female reader

TW: Kidnapping, violence, typically TCM stuff

Enjoy and let me know your thoughts as this is my first TCM fanfic!

You woke up to the smell of rust and rot.

Your head pounded, throbbing with every slow, disoriented breath you took. The world around you was dim, shadows stretching over warped wooden walls. The air was the ick, stale, and each inhale burned your throat.

Panic clawed its way into your chest as reality settled in.

The gas station. The van breaking down. The old woman at the gas station smiling so sweetly as she offered help.

Not long after, chaos followed.

Hands grabbing. Screaming. The cracking sounds of your friend's skull. The blood. The sharp sting of something slamming against your skull. Total darkness.

And now… this.

Your breathing quickened as you tried to move, wrists aching from the rough rope binding them. Your legs weren’t tied, but they felt weak, like you’d been out for hours. Your eyes darted around the room—an old storage space, maybe a basement. Dim light seeped through the cracks of a door across from you, casting long, jagged shadows.

You want to cry, you want to scream, but you are too tired, too weak with no water or food for the past day awaiting for your deadly fate to come.

You jump as you hear the door swung open and the heavy footsteps that follow. You hold your breath as you see a large man, his massive frame nearly swallowing the entire room. You see his gortesque mask made from human flesh and the smell nearly makes you want to vomit.

Thomas stood at the edge of the table.

Looming. Watching.

Your breath came in short, shallow gasps as you stared at the ceiling, refusing to meet his gaze.

You couldn’t.

If you did, you weren’t sure what you’d see.

Or worse—what he would see in you.

A sharp noise scraped through the tense silence—the sound of a knife dragged across the wooden table. Your body tensed, wrists twisting against the bindings. The more you struggled, the deeper the rope bit into your skin, but panic made you pull anyway.

A heavy exhale came from behind the mask.

Then, slowly, a large, calloused hand reached out.

Your stomach twisted as rough fingers gripped your chin—not cruel, not bruising, but firm. Unyielding.

You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to twist away.

Thomas inhaled sharply. His fingers tightened just a little, just enough to still your movement.

Gentle but deliberate—he tilted your head.

Your breath hitched.

His grip didn’t hurt, but there was no mistaking the strength behind it. He wasn’t asking. He was making you.

Slowly, your eyes fluttered open.

And you saw him.

Up close, his mask was even more terrifying. The seams were uneven, rough stitches holding the grotesque patchwork together. His dark eyes—intense, unreadable—were the only thing visible beneath it.

They bore into you. Searching.

What does he want?

You swallowed hard, body trembling as he studied your face. His fingers twitched slightly against your jaw, like he wasn’t used to touching this way. Like he was testing something.

Your breath stuttered as his grip softened, his thumb barely grazing your cheek. The touch sent a shiver down your spine.

Thomas is excited. He's never seen anyone like you. You're different, not like the other outsiders. His gaze dragged over her body, slow and deliberate. She was soft.

Not like the others who came through here, all sharp angles and hollow frames. No, she had fullness. Thick thighs pressing together, hips wide enough to fill out the worn denim she wore. The curve of her stomach rose and fell with each unsteady breath, plush and warm, not taut with starvation or rigid with fear.

His fingers twitched at his sides.

She wasn’t small. She wouldn’t break too easily.

He felt himself stiffen at the thought.

She wasn't like the others.

She was perfect.

She was his.

[jollytacocandy]

I've noticed that your blog is kind of bland (not in a bad way, I'm just saying), and since I don't have much to do lately besides shiny hunting. I was wondering if you wanted me to do a profile picture for you, for free that is. I'm not that skilled in traditional art, but I do consider myself an artist, so if you are interested. I'm happy to help.

Sure! I am new to Tumblr so that's why my page is kinda bland because I don't know what to do with it honestly .🧍🏼

[jollytacocandy]

My cats never appreciate my cheesecakes 😔

[jollytacocandy]

radio silence will be like, "is anyone gonna cover this bad bitch in blood?" and then not wait for an answer

ready or not (2019) / scream (2022) / abigail (2024)

[jollytacocandy]

How would Thomas be with a male partner?

I've given some thought about this for awhile and I know a lot of people ship Eric and Thomas but I don't like the ship honestly.. I also don't think that it's likely Thomas would have a male partner.

** I know I know this isn't what you want to hear but I'm sorry 😭**

And no I'm not ruling out the possibility of Thomas being bisexual or queer in general!!

Given the environment Thomas Hewitt grew up in (an abusive, hyper-masculine, and extremely isolated household.) It's unlikely that he would have been allowed to explore or express attraction to a male partner, even if he had those feelings. His family, particularly Hoyt and Monty, are deeply rooted in toxic masculinity and violent, old-fashioned values, making it hard for Thomas to deviate from their expectations.

BUT!!!

If Thomas did have an s/o, he would be extremely private with affection of any kind to avoid any bullying from Monty and Hoyt.

Luda would need some time to accept it but she will try especially because she loves and cares for Thomas deeply.

You would definitely have to help with the hunting and other "masculine" duties.

Thomas would admire his s/o, especially if his partner was a convenientally attractive but may also envy him because of Thomas's own insecurities.

Overtime the family will accept the male s/o but it will take A LOT of time and patience!

I'm sorry this isn't the best but it's kinda difficult to write this out due to the misogynistic nature of the family 😭😭😭

[jollytacocandy]

PSA:

STOP TRYING TO SLIM DOWN THOMAS!

Yes he has strong arms but he's FAT! He is a big man with a tummy, no he does not have hard pectorals or abs. Leave that man alone!! Let fat characters exist!!!

Also no, he's not baby girl. He is a grown ass man with severe mental issues and trauma. He is complicated. I'm sure over time that Thomas would be more affectionate towards his partner but that would easily take 6 months to YEARS to develop. I know big, bad mask men can be hot but it's also important to acknowledge the character and what they represent! 😭

Justice for Thomas and Bubba!

[jollytacocandy]

Character Analysis

Luda May's perspective on a plus size wife:

Fem presenting/female

I think Luda Mae would actually approve of Thomas having a plus-size spouse, possibly even prefer it. In her eyes, a woman with a sturdier, fuller figure would seem *healthier* and more suited to taking care of a household, especially in their old-fashioned, survivalist lifestyle.

Luda Mae is very protective of Thomas, and she’d want him to have someone who wouldn’t break easily—physically or emotionally. A frail or overly delicate woman might seem weak to her, someone who couldn’t handle the harsh reality of their life. A bigger woman, on the other hand, could be seen as strong, resilient, and well-equipped to handle the demands of their world.

She might even see it as a sign that this woman is more "real" and down-to-earth, rather than someone superficial or overly concerned with appearance. If the woman also carries herself with humility and doesn’t try to act above their way of life, Luda Mae would likely take her under her wing, especially if she proves to be useful around the house.

I could also see Luda Mae being a bit *testing* at first—watching closely to make sure this woman isn’t just trying to manipulate Thomas or isn’t secretly disgusted by him. But if she shows genuine care for Thomas and respects the family, Luda Mae might even become *fond* of her, seeing her as a natural addition to the household.

Let me know your thoughts!

[jollytacocandy]

Unpopular opinion:

If Thomas wanted an s/o, they would be plus size or someone considered "unconventionally attractive."

Think about it, he's a big man himself and his mother and the tea lady are all plus size. I feel like he would definitely find more comfort in a person that is plus size. They could also relate to Thomas's past bullying as someone being plus size during that time period was hard and considered "undesirable".

Thomas and his s/o would be able to relate with each other in regards to being unattractive to the public eye.

Thomas also resents and envies beautiful people and that is shown throughout the films.

Just a thought.

[jollytacocandy]

Yap yap yap yap blah blah blah blah more Thomas Hewitt emotional stuff

My favorite GIF of him oml so handsome

_____

Just saw a post talking about how Thomas probably never had any friends {hit very close to home}, which got me thinking about just how intensely that affected him. Humans require connections, it's essential to our survival and overall wellbeing. Thomas' main influence is his family; And let's be honest, his family isn't all that great at fostering a healthy environment. I don't blame them, I doubt they were raised any better.

Thomas already seems like a closed-off, reserved, and anxious person. His anxiety seems to manifest in small fidgets, excessive staring, zoning out{?}, aggression, and isolation. This paired with his skin condition, facial deformity, and difficulty speaking would make socializing extremely difficult for him. I doubt many people attempted to socialize with Thomas. He was probably that one kid in class who sat by themselves and never spoke up. {I used to be that kid, totally not projecting or anything..} It's fair to assume this stunted some social growth for him, and I doubt being seen as an outcast is any good for your confidence. Confidence isn't just necessary for presenting yourself comfortably, it's also essential for expressing your thoughts, emotions, and boundaries. Putting yourself out there, achieving goals and milestones.

This would most definitely bleed into his relationships {of any kind really, romantic, sexual, platonic, family.} He would not express his emotions to you. Not easily anyway. Want a man who communicates properly despite language / ability barriers? Not gonna happen. Thomas would most likely shut you out. Shut anyone out just to protect himself from further emotional pain. I doubt the Hewitt family puts any emphasis on healthy communication anyway. And Thomas doesn't have experience to model a healthy partner. I'm sure he's an affectionate person, just not by default. ESPECIALLY not during the 2003 timeline. His confidence has grown, sure, but his family has gotten even more socially isolated, making social cues less likely to be processed properly. Another thing, {which connects to the previous statement,} Thomas doesn't fully understand social cues. Not much anyway. {I've discussed this so much, I apologize for the repetition.} He's an observant, quick learner, but that doesn't mean his brain computes certain things {am I projecting? Maybe}. I don't think he'd understand that staring at someone whilst they eat isn't appropriate {to most people}; He'd probably stare into people's car windows from afar, watch people from other rooms/windows/doorways, ect. Now, that doesn't mean Thomas is a nosey guy; Because I don't think he is. He knows not to eavesdrop, and he knows when to mind his business. I think it's more of "I'm zoned out / I'm confused and trying to figure you out" type of staring.

I'm sure Thomas understands boundaries.....the family’s boundaries that is. Hoyt disrespects boundaries all the time; But Luda Mae puts him in his place when {she feels} need be. Monty just flat-out refuses to acknowledge boundaries. That guy is arguably worse than Hoyt; He'd be offending like Hoyt does if he still had legs, I'm sure of it. He's just not as vocally aggressive as Hoyt, but I'm getting off-track here. It seems like Thomas has to respect the family's boundaries, but they don't have to respect his. Nor do I think he understands how to set up boundaries. It's kind of an unspoken rule in the Hewitt household that the basement is Thomas' space. No one goes down there without reason. That's probably the only boundary they respect. {I'm sure Luda Mae gives him space and patience though.} Combining his lack of knowledge / experience with boundaries, his excruciatingly-low confidence, and his social alienation, Thomas would be very, very hesitant towards intimacy. Having to not only be physically exposed {which is such a sore subject for him,} but emotionally?? Mentally?? That's not something he's used to nor ever been encouraged to embrace. I doubt Thomas even understands sex on an emotional level. {What seems to be} His only experience with sex is through his uncles; And maybe Luda Mae's "no intimacy before marriage" lectures. And you KNOW how Monty and Hoyt view sex. There's no intimacy there; It's just the primal, selfish urges. Now, I'm sure deep down those two want genuine intimacy and emotional connection; They've just buried it so deep down to resist being seen as 'weak'. Thomas most likely picked up on this, at least some of it, which has influenced his views on intimacy. He'd really have to trust someone on EVERY level; He also might cry after, idk. OR feel very uncomfortable. Probably have a moment of existentialism and some serious rethinking to do. Not necessarily about the act itself, but how he views it and what he's been taught. To add onto his hesitance: I see a lot of fan fiction involving him and the reader getting married within 1-5 months, which just..doesn't seem too realistic to me. Thomas most definitely has a lot of self-doubt, and the family wouldn't adjust to someone that quickly. I'd say AT LEAST a year before they {the family} consider it. Anyway..this is long enough but I'm fully willing to do pt. 2 on anything I've covered before :)

TLDR: Thomas would definitely need some guidance, the whole Atlantic Ocean's worth of reassurance, and some lessons on boundaries.

____

Anyway, yada-yada, Thomas needs some guidance and emotional regulation tools, what's new - 🫀

[jollytacocandy]

The Stitch

PAIR: THOMAS HEWITT X READER

WORD COUNT: 3.6k | THE SPREAD UNIVERSE one shot

SUMMARY: A stranger tries to get into the shed. You help Tommy when he's hurt and... hungry, then sit in his lap.

WARNINGS: 18+ Smut*, stockholm syndrome, violence off screen, blood, giving stitches, hand kink, light angst & dark fluff. *oral, squirting, captivity dubcon, unsafe cockwarming-adjacent piv, creampie. Feral/soft Tommy, leather muzzle.

SIZE KINK: Tommy is a strong, hefty 6'5", reader much smaller.

Ty for your enthusiasm for this fic! Ty @dark-scape for title help and @gasolinerainbowpuddles for the ⛓️ divider. 🖤

It was dusk when you spotted a man prowling around, then you ducked away from the shed’s clouded window and pretended not to see. Time crawled by–-you didn’t know how much–-as you sat frozen, afraid of making any noise at all. The wind howled, and twigs snapped in the woods behind the shed. You would’ve felt safer with Tommy nearby, but he must have been dead asleep after his family worked him hard all day.

You finally let yourself relax enough to fall asleep, only for chains to rattle on the outside of the shed. 

“C’mon,” the stranger pleaded to himself, then whisper-shouted into the distance, “hurry up, Ronnie!” followed by a startled “oh shit.”

You recognized Tommy's footsteps as he lumbered across the yard.

Huddled in the corner of the shed, you held your breath and listened to the ruckus just outside. You were pulling for your captor. He had committed violent acts, but he didn't seem like a violent man at heart. You felt sure he wouldn’t hurt you… even though he already had. 

Arms wrapped around your knees, you pulled your hands into your oversized sleeves and gripped the fabric with your fists.

“Get outta here, freak!” the man yelled. 

Tommy grunted. 

“Ronnie!” the man pleaded to his friend who was nowhere in sight. Then he warned Tommy, “Don’t do it man. My buddy’s got a gun.” 

Tommy’s grunt sounded almost like a laugh. 

“There’s more of us too,” the trespasser claimed, then muttered, “shit.” 

Shoes scraped against dirt. The shed door shook with an impact, and chains rattled. The man coughed and tried to vocalize. His shoes thumped and slid against the wood, with his feet unable to reach the ground. Tommy held him by the neck with just one hand. The struggle continued. 

The man went quiet, and Tommy grumbled indistinctly. 

Dead weight hit the ground. 

There was shuffling, dragging, and a few seconds later, the wet thwack of sharp metal through bone.  

-

Tommy caught his breath, then came around toward your window. His massive shadow was just visible enough in the dark to make his presence known. He tapped the glass with one knuckle, then you approached and lifted the curtain. 

He had an ax slung over his shoulder.

He braced his other hand on the shed, to the side of the window. Then, he stopped down to rest his forehead gently against the glass. Below his half-muzzle, his breath fogged the window and his chest heaved. The glass was cloudy, but you still felt his eye contact. You looked at each other, then he pulled back, leaving a smear high on the glass where his forehead had been. He gave you a nod that felt like a promise—he’d come back.

When you peeked out the window again, Tommy was walking toward the main house with the man’s body slung over his shoulder. The head and arms hung limply over Tommy’s back. The guy’s head was dripping into the dirt. In Tommy’s other hand, he held his ax, letting it hang by his side in a loose grip. He was unbothered by the prospect of another man to fight. 

You sat in the corner, wrapped in a blanket, trying to calm yourself enough to get to sleep. Eventually, you heard Tommy on his way back. 

After unlocking the shed and ducking inside, he lit a lantern. The warm light flickered on, just bright enough to see dark splatter on his shirt and neck. His hair was matted dark. A thick path of blood oozed down the side of his face. He looked you over and took a seat against the adjacent wall.

For a minute, he simply breathed and watched you. 

You watched him, too. “Are you okay?” 

He nodded. The trickle down his face hadn’t stopped. It must have been his own blood. 

“You’re bleeding,” you observed.

You started to move toward him, but he lunged forward before you could get up. Even on his knees, he was a looming presence.

“Can I see?” You asked, and brought a hand out of the blanket, squinting to find the source of the blood. 

Before you could touch him, he scooped you up in his arms for a swift exit, shaking the shed with each step. After ducking through the door, you expected him to put you in the wheelbarrow. Instead, he stood up and adjusted your weight so you were held flush against him, hugging his apron. He made sure you were covered by the blanket. You couldn't wrap your legs around him–he was too big, but you trusted him not to drop you. The soft padding of his torso was warm and comforting as he took long strides toward the house.

Tommy’s footsteps clopped under you in the garage. He slowed down, then stopped in front of a piece of furniture and leaned forward. He took a hand off your back. You tightened your limbs around him as best you could while he pushed some things out of the way, clearing a space for you. Then he sat you down on a smooth wood surface and uncovered your head. He reached up toward the ceiling and pulled a chain. A dim light buzzed on. You were seated on a desk, with all sorts of scraps and junk scattered around. 

Tommy took off his apron and he sat down in a chair, facing you. He reached across the desk and slid a tin box toward himself.  When he opened the tin, it looked like sewing supplies. His fingers were so enormous, you couldn't imagine how he sewed anything, but he handled the box with care and familiarity. 

It was his. This was his place. His craft. 

He turned the tin toward you so you could get what you needed. Meanwhile, he reached for an old glass bottle with an inch of clear liquid in it, and he used every drop to wet a rag. He held the cloth to his head. 

Okay, not his first time. 

You held up a needle. “It’s dirty.”

Tommy shook his head no. Okay, it didn’t look dirty, but it sure wasn’t sterile, and for some reason, you wanted him to be okay. 

“It could get infected.” 

His eyes shifted around in thought, then he looked back to you for the answer. 

“Do you have any matches? Fire?”

He placed his thick, wide hands on your thighs as he stood up. He squeezed them lightly and checked your face for whether you might run. Then he went over to a workbench that was against the wall. 

As he rummaged around, your eyes wandered. The space was cluttered and stuck in another era. There were doll parts strewn around. A softball-sized, hollow head with no hair and  a painted-on face chipping off.  There were tools. So many tools. Cleavers and saws hanging from the ceiling by chains. Too high for anyone but Tommy to reach them. 

He returned with a rusted zippo lighter and flicked it open as he sat down. You held the needle to the flame and he held the lighter steady for you, with the casual intimacy of a stranger lighting your cigarette. In the glow of the flame, he watched your face. 

When the needle was ready, you looked at the thread. You unwound the spool long enough to reach some unexposed thread.

Tommy watched patiently, never making you feel rushed or scrutinized. 

With the needle threaded, you announced, “okay. It’ll hurt, but not too bad.” 

He gave a short nod with a squint that bore the hint of a smile. 

-

"Little closer," you whispered, never speaking at full volume with him. 

He spread your knees, making your heart skip a beat. He settled in between them, leaned forward, and his elbows bracketed your thighs.

His face was close. His eyes were blue with lines of gray darting out from the pupils. His eyelashes were dark and thick.  Your heart skipped a beat as his face moved closer, thinking for a split second that he might kiss you, but he dipped his head to offer you his injury. 

"Good," you encouraged him.   

His sweat wafted into your nostrils, and just as you felt heat rising to your face, his hands curved around your bottom. Arousal buzzed in your gut, so loud you had to pause and compose yourself. “Ready?”

He nodded his head forward. 

You needed to adjust the angle of his head so you could comfortably work on it, and when your fingers grazed the side of his muzzle he flinched. 

Your hand pulled back, but then he held it. As he placed your hand back on his cheek, the sight of his giant paw holding yours made a butterfly float through your chest. 

You wet your lips, then bit your lip and saw him glance toward your mouth.  

Bracing one palm to the side of the wound, you held the skin shut. You rested the needle point against his skin, then pushed and dragged the thread through it. He didn’t react. He watched your face in silence as you patched him up, thread by thread. Not a single puncture made him move his head.

You could feel his appreciation in the way his hands gently cradled you. He looked at you with a soft fascination.

Was this the first time someone helped him like this? It was easy to imagine why, but somewhere in this monster, there was a little boy. Did anyone ever take care of that boy? Tuck him in? Walk him to the bus stop for school? No, surely not. He hadn’t ever said a word to you, but he told you so much. His eyes told you. The way he moved. The way he never spoke, and hung his head as the others barked orders at him.

—

When you were about halfway done stitching him up, he began to sniff the air, and it made you realize how turned on you were. With your legs spread and no panties under the shirt-dress, you had to be leaking onto the desk. 

Tommy sniffed and growled, and maybe his primal sounds shouldn't have hit the way they always did, but your core tingled. You felt exposed with your legs spread around him. He sniffed again, and your face was hot with why. 

–

You tied off the threas and whispered, “Good, Tommy." You blotted the area with the wet rag.

Tommy reached for his face to touch the stitches, and your hand stopped his: “no."

Your hand lingered, with your fingers wrapped around the heel of his palm. You wanted to hug him, have your body against his again, which made your mind jump back to the way he carried you there. In that moment, something clicked, and your throat tightened. No one but him had ever handled you in that particular way—big arms wrapped around you like you were too precious to lose. He did his best to make you comfortable. So what if you were his possession? It felt like you were his world. Maybe no one ever cared as much as Tommy Hewitt cared about keeping you. 

Your vision got cloudy, and Tommy’s eyes narrowed. Once you blinked, a fat tear pushed through your lashes. Before it could run down your cheek, his thumb was there to collect it. Then he put your tear just below his eye. It slid down to his muzzle in a tiny trickle that left a clean path through the grime. 

You smiled and whispered, “It’s okay.” 

His gaze fell down your body, and his eyes darkened. The corners of his mouth glistened in the shadow of his muzzle. He took your chin in his hand and took a deep breath. 

-

Tommy reached behind you and urgently cleared the whole desk. Then he put his hand on your chest and pushed you down flat on your back.  Your feet dangled off the edge, but not for long. He bent forward, lifted your knees, and soon had your legs over his shoulders with your ass in the air, held up by his massive hands. With your sex exposed so close to his face, Tommy growled. Your upper back remained flat on the surface. 

With his elbows braced on the desk, he held you with your cunt at his mouth. His breath was warm. With his mouth ever closer, he began to drool. His breath was heavy and full of desire.  

You let out a little moan, and with that, he attacked you like his first meal in ages. Holding you like a juicy burger, he fed himself your cunt. There was no ceremony in the first touch, he simply dug in, licking right up the center, then sucking at the apex. He ate you with a hunger that was felt in every push of his lips and heard in every breath through his nose. He used his face to spread your lower lips apart, wedging his mouth into your heat like it belonged there. 

He ate with abandon, licking and planting his lips and sucking. Collecting every drop he could from each secret little ruffle of your body, scavenging each surface for more to consume. The firmness of his lips, the rhythmic suction, and the strong lap of his tongue had pleasure building in your gut.  His hands continued to hold up your hips, thumbs digging into your asscheeks. His grip kept you firmly at his mouth with your thighs hugging his cheeks. With his mouth latched fully onto you, it was a vision you could never forget. God, it felt good. 

He couldn’t have known it, but he’d found the perfect angle, bridging your hips for you, with his elbows planted on the desk. He feasted selfishly, and his ravenous work had your body churning out more and more arousal for him to slurp up. 

He refused to come up for air, his nose instead taking ragged breaths. He paused only to adjust the muzzle, nudging it against you thigh. Then, the smooth leather nudged your slick clit as his tongue plunged into you. His eyes closed as he licked upward, massaging your front wall with his hunger. Your eyes fluttered closed. His tongue was so strong and thick, he really fucked you with it, filled your wet little hole with it.

Each slide of his tongue against your spongy spot made you lose a little more control. Soon, it felt like you were going to pee. 

“Tommy,” you warned him. 

He only fucked you harder with his tongue. 

“Tommy,” you whined, “I’m gonna—please—I—Ohhh” 

Tommy’s response was to growl and pull you closer, harder against his mouth.

At least there were no bedsheets, no decorum, and no expectations from him. He nudged that spot again, you let go. Your release began, pulsing through you, and he moaned as it filled his mouth. His mouth was so large, and he was so thirsty, there was barely any overflow. You rode that high and he drank every drop. You sighed when you were finished. His pace slowed, and his eyelids drooped. 

-

Satisfied with his meal, he let your ass back down on the table and ducked out from under your legs. He turned his head to fix his muzzle in case his feeding frenzy had exposed the center of his face. When he turned toward you again, you sat up on your elbows. 

Tommy's eyes panned over you as he palmed himself under the desk. His muzzle was shiny with you, and so were his lips. His pupils were dilated. He caught you watching the motion of his arm, and his face blotched pinker.

"It's normal," you reassured him. "It's normal to get hard from doing that." 

What were you saying?

What were you asking for?

A swell of shame washed through your chest, but it didn’t change what you wanted. 

Tommy looked at you, unsure. 

You nodded. “It’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.”

–

He grabbed you by your (his) shirt and pulled you upright. Then he ripped the shirt open, sending two buttons flying. 

When you looked down, your chest expanded with desire at the sight of the massive log straining his pants. He squeezed the outline and you nodded reassuringly. A wet spot was growing.

Your mouth hung slightly open as you looked at the gift in his pants. Your thighs were still spread wide. Tommy looked between your legs, then down at himself. Then in a flurry he unbuttoned and shoved his pants down, reaching into his underwear at the same time to help free his massive cock. Your knees twitched with the urge to sit on it. 

And sure enough, he grabbed your ass, pulling you off the edge of the desk and into his lap in one swift motion, which made his stiff cock slap heavily against your pussy. He quickly jostled it into place at your entrance and moaned when your wet heat covered the tip of his cock. Between his precum, your slick, and his slobber all over your cunt, the stiff log prodding at your hole was well-lubed. 

Tommy wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down, making his girth divide your soft, warm walls. His cock claimed every inch of your cunt and then more, as your body relaxed and opened with arousal. He was impossibly stiff. It must have been painfully hard in his pants. Slowed by his girth and stopped by his length, you came to a rest as far down his shaft as you could, far enough to meet the cushion of his bush.  His swollen shaft throbbed, and he let out a contented sigh.

He held your waist, and you were prepared to be used as a fucksleeve, but he hesitated. Instead of jerking himself off with you, his hands loosened and slid under your open dress shirt. His two palms rested warmly on your back, together covering a significant portion of your skin. You closed your eyes and bent forward, curving your torso snugly against the swell of his midsection. As you laid your head on his chest, your hips shifted and his throat rumbled with a twitch of his dick.  His heart thumped against your cheek. 

You moved your hips again, and his chest expanded with a deep breath. Another twitch of his cock made your walls spasm, and you let out a little moan. He pulled you closer and inhaled the scent of your hair, then lifted you ever so slightly against him before  sinking fully into your tight, wet cunt again. 

He shifted you in small motions, letting out lazy grunts and shuddering when you squeezed him in just the right way. This was perfect for how tired he was. 

You rolled your hips cautiously, curious how long he could wait before ravishing you.  He seemed to enjoy this new way of experiencing you. And God did you love it, too — stuffed full of his cock, with your tits and tummy pressed against him. 

“This is nice,” you whispered.

His lap lifted, and you sighed, “God, Tommy.” 

His breathing stuttered. His fingers twitched, pressing against your back. His dick throbbed and seemed to occupy even more of you.

His breathing sped up. You just barely rocked yourself, and observed his quiet loss of control until he groaned and throbbed so powerfully it made your whole body tighten. He held his breath as his balls spasmed, then he sighed with his hot load throbbing into you. With his seed pumping into you, he used a hand on your ass to pull you even tighter against him.

The pressure of his heft against your front sent you to the stars. You turned your head with your mouth against his chest and whined into his shirt as you came on his cock, making him shudder. While you came, he held your head to his chest. His stomach heaved under you, as you both finished your release.  

–-

You stayed impaled on him, and after a minute, you felt him tense. You lifted your head to look at him, and could see he was self-conscious. 

With his hands on your waist, he lifted you off his dick. Your pussy tried to hang on, but the last of his dick slid out, leaving you empty as he put you down on the desk, leaking his cum onto the wood. 

He stood up and turned away for a moment to put his dick back in his pants. 

He looked you over, and held both sides of your unbuttoned shirt-dress. He ran a thumb over the threads where he had ripped the buttons, and he grumbled quietly in dissatisfaction. He retrieved the sewing tin, scooting it closer again, then he pushed the shirt off your shoulders. He wrapped you in the blanket, then sat back down. 

He pulled you into his lap, having you sit on his thigh to make space on the desk. You sat in his lap while he went to work. He got out a needle and thread, and began to select a button, then paused. He looked at you, then back at the buttons, and slid the tin toward you with a nod. You picked out two different shades of blue. 

He reached his arms around you to work on the shirt, and you watched his hands as he sewed them on. It was amazing to see how nimble his fat fingers could be. How studious he was with his work, and how well he sewed them on. 

When he was finished, he scooted the chair back and you stood up off his lap. He gently took the blanket off you and dressed you in the shirt again. He admired the way you looked in his shirt, then picked you up to carry you back to the shed. Before he covered you with the blanket, you looked at his wound. 

“You have to keep that clean, okay?” 

He nodded once. 

“Do you have a shower? Bath?” you asked.

He grunted with a nod. You thought you’d smelled soap on him before and wondered what he'd look like fresh and clean.

-

Back in the shed, he tucked you in and sat next to you as you grew sleepier. It was easier to fall asleep with him by your side. 

-

-

-

-----------------------

Thank you for reading, and I really appreciate all your comments and reblogs on the first two. 🖤 Your enthusiasm goes a long way.

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[jollytacocandy]

he’s so handsome

[jollytacocandy]

Thomas Hewitt Medical Analysis / Headcanons?? Because I love him

TW: Self-mutilation, Hoyt mention {very very brief}, typical canon activities, self-harm?, skin conditions,

Very poor editing, my apologies -

Speech:

I’ve seen many people assume that Thomas either A.) Doesn’t speak by choice; B.) Can’t speak from vocal {cord} issues; Or C.) A combination of the two / his facial deformity. I agree with everyone else but I’d also like to add a potential reason: I’m pretty sure Thomas was diagnosed with ‘metal deterioration’ of some sort in the introduction scene {2006/The Beginning}, and considering this was the mid-late 1900’s, knowledge on mental health was very little compared to now, especially in such a small town. Thomas could possibly be neurodivergent, maybe high-function autism but even then, Thomas could simply have a condition called Speech Apraxia/Apraxia of Speech/AOS/CAS. “In CAS, the brain has trouble planning for speech movement. The brain isn't able to properly direct the movements needed for speech. The speech muscles aren't weak, but the muscles don't form words the right way.” - Mayo Clinic. This could’ve been amplified by his facial deformity. I don’t think it’s irrational to think Thomas can speak, or speaks scarcely, but it’s also not irrational to think Thomas just doesn’t speak. I don’t think it’s a vocal cord issue as Thomas can make sounds pretty well {Considering he screams/yells/yelps at times in the 2003 remake, and even ‘howls’ in the 2006 version after he gets stabbed by Chrissie.} This is just a thought though, I could be wrong.

Skin Condition:

In a behind-the-scenes video {which can be found on youtube}, one of the crew members said Thomas had an extreme form of skin cancer. Now, this could very well be true, but if it was a real-world condition, Thomas would either be bed-ridden, hooked to a machine constantly, or dead. This condition could be made up, but I’ve found two possible real-world conditions which Thomas may have. 

Cutaneous Lupus {CLE}. “Cutaneous lupus is one type of lupus — an autoimmune disease that causes inflammation in different body tissues. “Cutaneous lupus,” which means skin lupus, affects your skin. Inflammation in your skin causes a variety of symptoms — most often a red, scaly rash. These symptoms are triggered by sunlight exposure.” - Cleveland Clinic. This, as most skin conditions, can be localized, meaning they’re only in one area. In Thomas’ case, this is his face. This could also occur in his scalp, neck, and ears for all we know. CLE is also not contagious.

___

What is CLE? 

“Cutaneous lupus, or skin lupus, is an autoimmune disease that affects your skin, causing skin rashes. Autoimmune diseases happen when your immune system mistakenly attacks your own body tissues. In cutaneous lupus, your immune system attacks your skin cells, causing chronic inflammation in your skin. This manifests as a recognizable rash, often with related symptoms like itching, irritation or swelling.” - Cleveland Clinic

2. Pustular Psoriasis. Now, this diagnosis doesn’t make the most sense until you see the actual ‘photo’ of Thomas’ face. A photo {Which is shown below} is from the 2006/The Beginning behind-the-scenes’ on youtube. This looks A LOT like Pustular Psoriasis to me; Though I could be very wrong. “Symptoms of pustular psoriasis include pustules (white or yellow, pus-filled, painful bumps) that may be surrounded by inflamed or reddened/discolored skin. The pus in pustules is caused by inflammation and is not contagious. People with plaque psoriasis or other types of psoriasis may also develop pustular psoriasis” - The National Psoriasis Foundation. Common placement of Pustular Psoriasis includes the hands, feet, scalp, and face. It usually affects the hands and feet {Palmoplantar pustulosis}, but not in all patients.

___

What’s the Difference?

“Pustular psoriasis is a type of psoriasis that causes skin plaques with pustules or blisters anywhere on your body. Palmoplantar pustulosis, which is also known as palmoplantar pustular psoriasis, is pustular psoriasis that affects only your hands and feet.” - Cleveland Clinic

___

What is Pustular Psoriasis?

Psoriasis is an auto-immune disease, as is CLE: “Your immune system keeps your body healthy by defending itself against foreign invaders like bacteria. These invaders can make you sick. If you have psoriasis, your skin immune system becomes overactive and releases inflammatory molecules that cause healthy skin cells to divide and replicate too quickly, which causes dead skin cells to form on the surface of your skin as scales or flakes. This state of immunologic over-activity also causes certain cells from the immune system called neutrophils to collect in the most superficial layers of the skin, which causes pustules.” - Cleveland Clinic

Photo for Reference:

I’m not joking, this is an actual screenshot from the Behind-The-Scenes at around 32:17. Now, I don’t think Thomas’ condition AS SEEN IN THE FILMS is as extreme, but this might be what a flare-up looks like for him. That being said, there’s a significant feature Thomas has that we haven’t addressed yet,

How Did Thomas Lose His Nose?

In The Beginning {2006}, we can see Thomas’ nose cartilage rotting off from multiple open wounds. Just based on this information, it’s safe to assume it just rotten off, right? Not necessarily. Looking at Thomas’ face reveal in the 2003 remake, we notice the nose is cleanly cut off right where the ‘rot’/wound was in the 2006 version. Combine this with his tendency of self-mutilation, this leads me to assume he {or someone in the family} cut it off. Now, I’ve researched this a bit {hyperfixation running rampant rn} and cutting off your nose doesn’t hit any major arteries and isn’t life-threatening on its own. However, your nose is part of what’s called the ‘Triangle of Death.’ The Triangle of Death is a part of the face featuring the nose all the way down to the corners of the mouth. Because this area is so close to your brain as well as openings in your face, infections can be deadly. So cutting off your own nose could kill you from infection, not the act itself. Obviously, Thomas didn’t die from this as he’s in the damn movies with a fully-healed 'nose'. Anyway, going back to observing his face, we can also see the nasal bone. Finally answering the question: It’s safe to assume Thomas picks at his skin alot. Combine this with poor hygiene and wearing his {very dirty} mask all the time, his wounds most likely got infected. This caused him to literally rot from the inside out, which caused necrosis. Thomas most likely cut his nose off because of an infection that had the potential to be fatal. Lord knows Luda Mae was probably horrified and I’m sure Hoyt wasn’t too thrilled either..{Monty’s snoozin’ 100%}

Anyway, apologies for the poorly-edited and non-coherent rant. I see so many theories and get a bit intimidated to comment under most of them so I decided to post this instead. :)

[jollytacocandy]

comfort character who hasn’t had a day of comfort in his life