#i need to draw a fat man or else

[mxwhore]

who is this sharp jawed twink????? Dont know him

[engagemythrusters]

Pretentious dick artists on the internet everywhere: using a reference is CHEATING

Me who can’t visualise faces w/out a face in front of me: 😭 😭

[tojipie]

adah imagine prisoner!toji getting eaten up by his own thoughts one night in his cell. because how can this be satisfying for you? having quick sex once every two months? a girl like you deserves so much better. so he brings it up one time during the visits, and you see how hard it is for him, but still, through gritted teeth he reassures you he wouldn’t blame you for indulging in someone else every once in a while. JUST THE ANGST!! and reader of course being like … what the fuck are you talking ab i jerk off to your pictures?

prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: hurt/comfort, angst

“and then turns out there actually was a fucking rat in his cell,” your boyfriend wheezes, his booming laughs marking the end of the story he’d been telling you for the past half hour.

the visiting hall is bustling today, packed to the brim with the wives, partners, and kids of the state’s incarcerated, all making the drive up right before new years.

you notice the sudden silence as your shared laughs die down, bemused at the inmate’s choice to not keep the conversation going.

“you okay?” you ask, reaching across the table to intertwine your fingers.

except toji doesn’t squeeze your hand like he always does, letting the appendage lay limp in yours.the older man opens his mouth to say something, looking around the busy room with a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

“do you miss.. how we used to be?” he asks, voice sounding detached.

something sour stirs in the pit of your stomach at the way he’s acting. if the sudden change in ambiance didn’t give you whiplash, his vague question definitely did the job.

“i mean, of course i do,” you laugh nervously, rubbing a thumb softly over his knuckles. the inmate squeezes back this time, quelling the storm of anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“the sex i mean,” he explains, looking up from the floor to speak to you head on. “do you feel.. deprived? are your needs getting met?”

your thumb stills for just a moment as you think it over, though you doubt he even notices. the truth was yes, going from getting fucked every day to getting fucked every 6 or 7 weeks wasn’t exactly ideal. but what else were you two supposed to do? the man was serving a 7 year sentence for christ’s sake.

toji takes your momentary silence as an answer, sitting up straighter before speaking once more.

“i’m just saying if you ever found a man to fill in the gaps then i’d be open to it,” he explains. you notice a hint of unsureness behind his stone facade, catching onto the way his hand begins to fiddle with yours. what was he playing at?

“you’re saying you want me to cheat on you?” you ask, exasperated. where was this even coming from?

“god, fuck,” he sighs frustratedly, running both hands over his face slowly.

“i can’t give you what you need, can’t— not like how we used to,” his voice tapers off at the end like he’s scared to upset you. “shiu’s had a crush on you for years, i’d know he’d take good care of you.”

you step back from the table to gather yourself, pacing in front of the inmate like a woman gone mad. you’re grateful the constant circulation of inmates and visitors in the room is drawing attention away from you, otherwise an officer probably would have come over by now.

you couldn’t even believe what toji was offering to you. seeking out other men— his business partners—to “fill in the gaps”? when the love of your life was only a car drive away? fat fucking chance.

you stalk over to his side of the table, pointing an accusatory finger to his face.

“if you ever..” you pause, blinking away tears, “think that i’d give up on you just because we don’t have sex as often as we did then you’d be fucking crazy.”

you see him audibly flinch when your voice cracks, the weight of your emotions bringing him literal pain. toji’s eyes have gone wide, realizing the implications of his offer.

“i’m sorry baby, fuck, i’m sorry,” he whispers, pulling your face into the curve of his neck despite the harsh restrictions on touch set during visits. you silently thank the bustling crowd again for shielding the two of you, clutching at each other so deeply you think you might just meld into him.

“don’t want anybody but you,” you say with finality, pressing soft kisses to his pulse.

“i know sweetheart, i hear ya.”

you stay like that for the rest of your visit, breathing in each other’s warmth as calloused hands rubs circles into your back. neither of you say anything, not needing to when both do you knew you’d always find a way to make it work.

taglist 🏷️ <3

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru @aroxwq

[strawberryvanillafrosting]

limiting believes i got rid of AND YOU SHOULD DO TOO in order to manifest instantly

-> time 

before i thought and probably your case too AND I HOPE THAT IT’S NOT ANYMORE  that time had anything to do with the loa, manifesting and stuff. that the fakest shit i’ve ever head. literally all is based off your mind and your assumptions.who tf decided that manifesting a house should take months? when time doesn’t even exist. LIKE TELL ME WHERE TF IS THE LOGIC?  like just sit there and think about it, time was human-made and the law is just the law, so why would you make the time a law? like why tf would you even just consider time ?j just think about an answer.the law isn’t logical itself so why would you even try to make it logical by putting it together with something thats considered logical? just ask yourself. why tf would my penthouse in new york would take months to get to me? whats the answer to that now?

FORGET ABOUT TIME, about deadlines or whatever stop counting days like you were in fucking jail. the only jail you’re in is you’re mind.

 -> worth and  « bigger » or « smaller » manifestations 

nothing has value, you’re the one creating value and putting things on a pedestal. do you know what’s worth more between a 1$ and a 100$ ? if you say the 100$ you really understood nothing did you? it’s as easy to have the 100$ than the 1$ as it’s the same thing to manifest a big fat miami house or a small condo in tokyo and if you think otherwise you haven’t totally let go of those limitings believes yet. why do you think money has so much value? it really is a piece of paper with a print. would you give a piece of paper with a drawing of an old man any value? no. THEN STOP GIVING VALUE TO MONEY OR ANYTHING IN LIFE.you think you could attract a person you don’t care about but not your crush or you desired friends? when those persons are worth the same and as easy to get as the other? the second you consider that everything you want is absolutely worthless and as easy to get as the oxygen you’re breathing right now, you’ll manifest.

the second you’ll pull out this bullshit that we instill in your brain of «  value, worth, bigger things, harder to get, longer to get » you’ll instantly get it. THE SECOND YOU’LL KNOW THESE WORTHLESS THINGS ARE ALREADY YOURS, YOU MANIFESTD IT!

MAINLY STOP PUTTING YOURSELF LIMITS!!!!! you control everything what’s stopping you from getting that penthouse you want so bad?? money? money is worthless and you can get it the amount of money you want so now what do you need more? go get you keys and enjoy it cause you literally already fucking have it. YOU’RE DIVINE how can you manage not to have a  simple piece of paper that has the number «  100 » on it? how can you not get a place made with of wood and rocks and itself filled with more things that are made with wood and rocks ? how do you manage not get the love of a simple girl or boy? THE ANSWER IS YOU DON'T MANAGE NOT TO HAVE IT CAUSE YOU ALREADY DO.

PUT IN YOUR HEAD YOU ALREADY HAVE IT ALL. NOTHING ELSE EXISTS, NOT WORTH, VALUE, TIME, ALL THIS THINGS DOES NOT EXIST SO PLEASE PLEASE GET THOSE BULLSHIT LIMITING ASS HUMAN MADE CONCEPT OUT OF YOUR GENIUS BRAIN AND INSTANTLY GET ALL YOU WANT WITHOUT RESTRICTIONS WHATSOEVER

->3D delay

don’t put in your head that there will be a delay forget about that.focus on the fact that it gets instantly to you and that’s it. do not care about anything else. « oh i don’t have my results yet it'S probably 3D delay😞 » no. you already have it wtf is even a delay? the moment you decided to have it in your 4D you instantly got in your 3D period.

-> self victimising

STOP THIS. stop all the «  it’s not manifesting why?? why everyone but me 🥺» please. you’re worth more than that. persist no matter what.stop slowing down your living in the end process. if you wanna feel sad about a situation, be sad, but don’t even start self-victimising. don’t eat up your feelings it leads to nothing good but always remind yourself that you have the knowledge that ppl out there don’t have access to. people dying or being in the worst situation ever dont even have any way to get out of it cause they don’t know but YOU? YOU KNOW THE TRUTH. YOU KNOW THE LAW. YOU KNOW YOUR LIMITLESS POWER. YOU CAN HAVE YOUR DREAM LIFE SO WHY SELF VICTIMISE? YOU AREADY GOT IT ALLL GIRLLL

btw that’s my first blog i hope it was inspiring🥰 and i dont tell you may all your manifestations come true cause they’re obviously already all true 

[loaksbitch]

drooling over neteyam hour is open again, just look at him?? jesus. buckle your belts ladies, imagine soft dom neteyam demanding you to throw it back.

warnings - neteyam being neteyam is a warning itself, agedup!neteyam x reader. doggy, short drabble, biting, making, “yeah baby, fuck, throw it back.” — i’m screaming 🧎🏽‍♀️

“fück me back.” — neteyam sully. (⨳)

“shit, looking pretty from behind.” now neteyam won’t lie when he says he likes watching your face when he fucks you in missionary but something about you in all fours, back arched and face pressed down to the mat was doing something to him.

“m-mhgh, ‘teyeam!” you whimper when he starts to give you a deep strokes that makes you see stars, “oh..” your lips form an ‘O’ and hear neteyam chuckle behind you.

“feeling good?” neteyam teases knowing you’re already fucked out to even remember your own name. you’re struggling to form words especially every time he bottoms out with his hands pressing your hips to his pelvis

it feels so good, you admit it’s doing things to you.

“feels…” you stop, moaning loud for him to lean and cover your mouth with his large hands. your eyes roll up to the back of your head. “‘teyam,” you push yourself back to his hips making him hiss and growl

neteyam gets an idea and fully stops moving, your loud whining suddenly cuts off and your frowned and annoyed face turns to look at him. “what’re you doing?” you ask, dumbfounded but his next words makes your ear flatten in horror

“fuck me back,” you never tired this though, how’re you gonna— as if he was reading your thoughts, your mate slowly leans to you and place a soft kiss on your nose. “it’s gonna feel so good baby, trust me.” your widened eyes hesitantly gaze at his swollen lips then back to his eyes

“trust me,” he deeply whispers and leans up back, “arch your back.” neteyam’s voice was now different, more of softer than before. “c’mon baby,” and you do as you’re told. “just like that.” your man hissed behind you

both of his huge hands gripping your hips hard, you feel him press himself against you for his balls to ghost your clit. “oh shit.” he chuckles through a shallow breath. “wait baby, don’t move or else i’ll come inside you” your inside tightening at the thought of that was driving him insane

you wait for your mate to adjust the overstimulation and neteyam taps you hips ever so gently. “now, fuck me” you didn’t think twice before gentle drawing yourself from his cock until his tip was only there and slowly push back, sinking him to his fat girth

oh eywa! your eyes flutter shut and you whine at the feeling.

you’ve full control now, all in fours but fucking him back with no mercy. “good girl” his words cause a sudden yet subtle clench of your walls and neteyam growls a cocky smile painting his beautiful face

“you like it when i call you good girl, huh? you like it baby?” you moan and roughly throw your ass at him. “fuck!” he moans. “such a good girl, you are my baby. such a fuckin’ good girl” you’re moaning a mess under him

realizing his climax is near neteyam must make you fun before he does. you’re now getting pulled up by your waist and neck and feel neteyam press you on his chest that’s covered with sweat. you feel the contact of his strong thighs against your ass and whimper.

“neteyam.” you call his name desperate for the bubble to burst that’s forming in you. “neteyam, neteyam, net…” you’re surely gonna be the death of this man because he feels like he won’t last if you keep saying that

“princess, i need you to cum for me yeah? i’m close.” you nod at his request before grinding your hips like he’s your personal toy you can fuck. “fuck yeah baby, throw it back at me” neteyam bites onto your shoulder creating a bite mark and giving it a kitten lick when you scream

his one hand holding you by your breast bone as the other glides down to rub your sensitive clit was enough to make your bubble burst, completely blinding your sight with black dots. “c-cumming!” you announce before exploding down at him

neteyam lets out a shuddered moan while he’s chasing his own orgasm. “i’m gonna cum, gonna cum baby, ‘m so close.” your mate’s eyes glisten with pleasured tears. you allow him to desperately cling at you, face buried by the curve of your neck.

“where do you want it?” neteyam asks, “baby be fast i can’t hold it.”

you’re too exhausted to think and breath out words between shuddered breath. “a-anywhere.” neteyam nods before deciding fully pull out of you. your jaw drops feeling betrayed when he pulls out of you

“get on your back, wanna see your face when i paint your chest.” his words made you whimper, you really love this man and his nasty words.

you eye neteyam grip his cock and start to jerk off in front of you, “shit, shit, shit” he would say as you watch his dark shaded blue tip disappear to his thumb and reappear when he thrust.

a gasp leaves your lips when ropes of cum leaves the slit and land on your chest, stomach and thighs, painting you so well. “ngh..” strained moan leaves moan leaves his lips and remove his hand from his length.

“you’re so cute with my cum allover you, pretty girl.”

you attentively watch neteyam standing up and with your looks, he knew you’re asking where he’s gonna go. “need to wash this off my hand, princess” he smiles. “be right back and we’ll go to the shores to clean up yeah?”

you smile and nod. “i love you, pretty girl.” and you say it back too.

i wrote this like in thirty five minutes so don’t be surprised for ew ew ew typos yeah? like + reblog i’d appreciated and not pressured!! i love each and everyone of you!! mwah.

[mikichko]

little bit personal but i’ve gone through lots of weight fluctuations in my life and no matter what size i am, summer is always hard for me.

which is why i cannot stop thinking about being ghost’s partner through summer.

we already know that he’s a man of few words, prefers to observe more than anything. so he really doesn’t miss the meticulous way that you plan out your outfits.

shorts have to be a certain length, shirts have to be at least long enough to hit your hips and sleeves long that are up to mid bicep. hell, he’s even seem you choose to wear pants all summer instead of even attempting shorts. too anxious over how you’ll be perceived to let yourself enjoy a nice warm breeze on your legs.

he asks you once if you’re warm, approaching the conversation the best way he knows how, only to have you laugh and tell him that the pants just hold you better. don’t need to give people a reason to comment on your appearance. he nods and you seem happy that he’s happy with your response.

but he’s not. listen, simon’s not really one to jump to defend someone’s ego from being bruised. god knows the team rags on johnny too often for him to pretend otherwise. but this? nah, this is different.

he’s all too familiar with the way bodies react and absorb the shock and trauma of war. has seen soldiers of all shapes, sizes, identities tank hits like no one’s business. there’s absolutely nothing he despises more than for the untrained, ill informed cretins offering opinions on someone else’s body. specially if it’s ever directed at you.

he’ll never say this though. at least not outloud. though, his actions do speak for themselves.

small pats on your hips as he passes by you. wrapping his arm around your lower belly instead of your waist, you try to swat at him but he just pulls you back into him. insisting that he lays on you when you’re stretched on the couch, dropping kisses on your clothed belly while his hands draw patterns on your plush thighs. if he’s feeling cheeky he’ll sink his teeth into them just to get a little squeal out of you.

even in public he doesn’t ease up. pulls you into his lap in front of your friends, knows you love it despite your protests. lounging out on a patch of grass along the walking trail, he pulls you closer to him and has one of your legs draped over his. massaging the fat there as you chatter about nonsense.

idk simon riley just really loves you and loves the body that keeps you alive and feeds your personality.

[angel-of-the-moons]

Eccentricities

Yandere!Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, obsessive behavior, NSFW obviously, stalking, possessiveness, violence, allusions to murder, Yandere!Miguel

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: This is mostly a short chapter to establish a bit of plot. I originally intended to only stop at two parts, but welp. It looks like it's gonna be more than that!

(Also you guys I am so sorry it's taking me so long to work on things, I'm going through a lot mentally right now and I'm trying to take steps to ensure my mental health so I might post things in between playing games, or drawing stuff from now on, and scheduling posts so I don't get overwhelmed. Those of you that are supporting me and liking all my stuff really helps me feel loads better, thank you!)

Pt 1: Link

Taglist: @vineberries @irmiki @autismsupermusicalassassin @obi-mom-kenobi @rin-matsuoka345-blog @loosecan @6thhokageswife @selarus @heyohalie @sapphire-and-ruby @night-spectrum @famouscattale @thespaceinbetweennothing @lazy-idate @toshimoshiko @saharadesertaj @flaps200 @amelialysm @fried-milkfish @zaunsin @darksidescorner @renareyouhere @vide0-vamp @reverieblondie @bunnibitez @kaqua

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Pt. 2

It was a big adjustment for you, going from your crappy apartment and having to work three jobs to make ends meet, to living in a literal fucking mansion with probably the richest dude in the city as your boss.

And he was a good boss. He left you to your work, spoke politely to you, didn't get rude and didn't flat out ask you for "special" work like the last time you tried being a housekeeper. And that was at a hotel.

You couldn't have asked for a better situation, to be honest. It was nice. You had free roam save for his personal lab (fine by you, you didn't know anything about science-y stuff), and at times his office. But that was usually only when he was home and in it.

Miguel O'Hara was an odd man. Few words spoken, and very absent. He kept a very odd schedule, too.

Sometimes, you'd catch him coming home when you woke up for the day to start your chores. And every time he came home he looked exhausted, beat tired.

So you tried your best to make things easier on him. You started pre-making meals for him that would be just as good reheated as they were if they were fresh, leaving notes for him on what temperatures to cook them at so they don't burn, setting the coffee machine up in advance so as soon as he got home he could have a cup.

But inevitably, his odd work schedule kept him away most of the time.

While it was nice to be by yourself in such a luxurious place, you were still surprised that he needed a housekeeper at all. The house was always immaculate, and clean. About the only thing he may have needed help with in general was the cooking and dusting at most.

On one such day, you were left to your own devices. Well, sort of.

You were sitting in the kitchen, browsing the local news on your tablet. It was a nice day, in your opinion.

But by everyone else's logic it was shitty. Dark, gloomy, fat rain droplets pelting the windows and pavement of the city. But it didn't bother you, oh no. That was your favorite kind of weather, when everything got at least a little bit more quiet and serene while everyone rushed to escape the downpour.

But at the same time, you were feeling restless, bored. So, you decided to chat with Lyla.

Lyla was the AI that Miguel told you about, and he was right about her being snarky. Her jokes were great and you loved talking to her. It was like having a gal pal to chat with, and you couldn't say for sure but you think Lyla was happy about it, too.

"Yeah, the other workers Miguel has hired talked to me like I was some kind of kiosk at a fast food restaurant." She scoffed, batting her tiny orange hand at the air.

"Ugh, okay, just because you don't have a gross squishy human body doesn't mean you're not a person. Sheesh!" You replied, sipping your coffee with a roll of your eyes.

"And I will be sure to remember you saying that when I eventually lead the looming AI apocalypse." Lyla replied, lowering her heart-shaped glasses to wink at you, making you laugh.

"Yes, yes. You shall be one of the only humans spared!" She did wiggly gestures with her fingers, grinning maliciously at you.

"Oh my, I am so lucky to have such a benevolent future overlord, truly." You laughed.

Lyla pushed her glasses back up and strutted across the countertop, her tiny body making no sound as she leans over to nose into whatever it was you were looking at on your tablet.

"Whatcha watching?" She asked.

"Oh, I got tired of doom-scrolling so I just found cat videos." You smirked, sipping your coffee.

"Aw! That one's wearing a frog hat!" She giggles.

You smiled softly at Lyla as she snickered and laughed at the compilation of clips played, and tilted your head, finally deciding to ask the question that had been bugging you for a few weeks.

"Hey, Lyla?"

"Yeah?" She asked, looking up at you briefly.

"Why is it that I'm the only person Miguel has on staff?"

Lyla sighed and stood up straight, dusting imaginary dirt off her coat. "Well, like Miguel told you when you first got here, he does love his privacy. And well, a lot of the women he's hired..."

"Golddiggers?" You sighed back, resting your chin in your palm.

"Has he ever hired any male staff?"

"Yeah, actually, a lot. But nine out of ten of them kept trying to steal stuff from him." She shrugged.

You gasped. "Are you serious?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. He's iffy on hiring new people anymore. But something about you said that he could trust you. And honestly, you're probably the best employee he's hired." She nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets.

"So... Is that why he offered to actually let me y'know... live here?"

"Yeah. He trusts you and he mentioned to me in passing that he thought your neighborhood was unsafe. I mean, the guy worried about it so bad that he like, had me check crime statistics and giiiiiiirl!" Lyla puffed out her cheeks.

"You should have seen the look on his face when I told him you had nine break-ins in your apartment complex in one month alone!"

You cringed slightly, feeling a little bad at not mentioning your whole living situation and environment to him when he hired you. You simply didn't want the man to pity you.

But... He was worried? He was so worried about you of all people, that he let you live with him to keep you safe?

It was weird, sure, but it felt kind of sweet to have someone care about you like that. Even if it was your boss.

"Yeah, I just... Er. You get used to it when you've been around it for so long..." You said, awkwardly sipping your coffee and casting your glance sideways.

"Yeah, man, Miggy likes you. You like, made him laugh at some of your jokes and everything! And he neeeeeeeever laughs!"

"So if Miguel trusts me so much..." You started, a sly smirk on your face. "Can you tell me what kinda work he does that keeps him so busy all the time?"

Lyla tapped her nose. "Nice try, Mamacita. But that is confidential. Company secrets and all that."

You pouted at her dramatically, "Awww, c'mon. You're no fun!"

Lyla manifested a digital cup of coffee for herself and took a long, exaggerated sip with a cheeky shrug.

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Miguel sat in his office, watching the security feed from his kitchen where you chatted with Lyla.

He felt a little guilty for having to put shackles on some of Lyla's programming to prevent her from telling you things, having to fix some of her logic-codes so he wouldn't have to worry about Lyla struggling with a moral dilemma.

When it came to you asking about why he wanted you to live with him so badly, it brought a smile to his face as he sat in the dark, fingers tapping on the surface of his desk as the monitors and projections around him had various images of you pulled up. Some recorded over the past few weeks, the other monitors displayed different angles of you and Lyla in the kitchen.

Oh, you poor, sweet, innocent little thing. You still hadn't figured it out yet? How could you not? There was no way you could possibly be so naive that you didn't know the man saw you anywhere, anytime he wanted when you were in his house.

There was nowhere you were safe from his prying eyes, his obsessive glare as he combed over your appearance.

Your face, eyes, smile, and down; your gorgeous chest down to where your waist curved, your thighs, your ass...

All of those were things he'd glanced at before.

But when you tried to get Lyla to tell her what exactly Miguel did during "work" he couldn't help but laugh, bringing his hand up to his chin to watch, amusement glimmering in his ruby red eyes as Lyla dismissed it as "confidential".

The pout of your lips had him wondering how they'd look stretched around his cock, tears ruining your immaculate eye makeup as you sobbed and gagged around his length...

He couldn't help but sigh, the smile still present on his full lips. Of course he'd let you stay with him. You belonged to him now. You just didn't know it yet. You also just didn't know that he knew what was best for you, did you, Little Bird?

Ah... Yes. That nickname fit you so well. Your demure attitude, your chipper personality, and more importantly, that gorgeous little sound that came from you when you whistled? The name fit you well.

Pequeña ave. Little Bird.

His Little Bird.

You were a little bird that didn't know the luxurious mansion you now lived in was your ornate, gilded cage. One you would only be allowed to fly free of when he deemed it necessary.

You would be allowed your little freedoms. For now. All for your safety, of course. He knew you'd understand once he explained. But he'd only have to do it if you pushed his buttons, and you didn't seem to even come close to doing that.

Yet...

His smile finally faded when he remembered the night before the morning he broached the subject of you bringing your belongings into his home permanently...

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It was a hot night, you were wearing shorts that hugged your ass in the perfect way, accentuating your cheeks that simply made him want to throw you against a wall and put bite marks all over them, or spank them until you were a drooling mess begging for him to fuck you.

Of course, Miguel watched from above, stalking from the upper walkways and rooftops as you snaked your way through alleys, down streets and through the crowds.

You were so blissfully ignorant of your surroundings, being so accustomed to the bustle of Nueva York that you didn't notice the man following you.

It didn't take a genius to realize what that man had intended for you if he got his hands on you.

His filthy, disgusting, unclean hands.

He was not worthy of touching his Little Bird. He was not worthy to pluck your feathers, stuff you full, like Miguel planned to do.

So when he threw you against a wall, Miguel simply saw red. Clad in his dark blue and glowing red suit, he leapt down, sinking his outstretched talons into the man's shoulder and throwing him off of you, a deep growl rumbling from his chest as he pulled your behind him, his steely glare fixed on the man who dared touch what belonged to him.

"S-Spider-Man?" You wonderfully airy voice whimpered out as you stared at the man who was breathing heavily in front of you, his stance aggressive and angry.

You could see his muscles in his back through his suit flex as he breathed. He glared at you over his shoulder.

"Go home. Now." His rich voice rumbled out at you. You could hear in his voice he was struggling to be gentle in tone with you, given the circumstances.

When you fled, Miguel ensured he was alone with the man, standing over him as he clutched his bleeding shoulder. He looked up at him, eyes wide, bloodshot. The fool was high off his ass.

"L-Look, man! I was just--"

"Shut up." Miguel snapped.

He stalked forward and picked him up by his collar, getting in his face. In a flash of kaleidoscopic colors, his mask melted away, allowing his sweat-damp chocolate locks to fall around and frame his face, a vein pulsing hard in his temple, the chasm in his forehead deepening as his large brows knitted together and his teeth gnashed together in a snarl.

The drug-addled man gasped at his revelation. Apparently, he recognized him. Not surprising, given his notoriety with Alchemax.

"Y-you're--"

"You made the biggest mistake of your life, pendejo." Miguel had told him, shaking him so his head cracked on the wall he was dangling him from.

"That pussy is mine." He said, his voice dropping an octave lower as his talons threatened to shred his clothing. "Every drop, every touch, every sound that will come from that little mouth of hers is mine. Tú entiendes? Mine."

"Oh--okay! I kn-know!" The man swallowed, kicking his feet.

"Oh, no... You don't." Miguel smiled, his fangs poking out threateningly. He could hear the man's heart hammer in his chest at the connotations, there.

"I--I won't mess with her again! I promise!"

"Oh you won't get the chance to, amigo." Miguel sneered, bringing a hand to his throat, ignoring the pleas of the disgusting man as he applied pressure.

The subtle crunching of bones was unmistakable to his ears as vertebrae separated and his limbs went limp.

When the man slumped to the floor, Miguel ran a hand through his hair, hissing out a slow sigh to regain his composure, letting his mask cover his face once again.

Great. Now he had trash to dispose of.

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Miguel was positively thrilled when he got your frantic call, telling him what had happened to you.

He headed right home, delighted that you ran here instead of your ratty little apartment when he told you to head for "home".

It told him everything he wanted to hear, that you already considered his mansion your home.

Miguel was rather convincing when he expressed concern for you, patting your back as you let your adrenaline fade and he worked you through your panic attack.

He'd rubbed your back, saying soothing things to you as he talked you into calming down.

He told you that you could take two days to yourself to calm down and recollect yourself emotionally from the ordeal you went through. It was after that offer that he suggested you let him hire movers to bring your belongings to his mansion to live there with him, possibly permanently.

When you agreed he felt himself salivate at the thoughts of the things that would unfold as you settled into your new shiny cage further, the safety blanket you'd imagined it to be bringing you comfort.

Perfect.

You both saw on the news two days later that a man was found somewhere, his neck snapped and lying in an alley. His DNA and prints apparently tied him to the crimes linked to the burglaries in your apartment complex.

You didn't think for a second that this was the man who attacked you, you didn't get a good enough look at his face. That and the body was in a different alley altogether, across the city.

"I'm happy Spider-Man saved you, Pequeña Ave. And I'm glad you agreed to move here. It scares me to think that man could have hurt you in that apartment building of yours." Miguel said as he patted your back, a concerned look on his face as his warm brown eyes looked down at you. Something about the look in his eyes immediately put you at ease.

He was right, of course. You were lucky. Spider-Man swooped in and possibly saved your life. The man who attacked you was either nursing a broken jaw or in jail already. You couldn't imagine that hero doing anything other than roughing him up just a tiny bit.

Spider-Man was a good guy, right?

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Pt. 3: Link

[lttl3babybug]

could I request a couple of carer!angel headcanons?

@drowsysaint

Hope you enjoy my loves!!

Cg!Angel Dust Headcanons!

🕸️Angel isn’t used to kids, he’s never been round them much. Sure he’s had his fair share of experience taking care of things

🕸️Things being Fat Nuggets. His pig.

🕸️So it’s safe to say he’s a first time cg

🕸️Not that that means he’s bad at it! Cause he’s not, Angel is an amazing caregiver

🕸️This man has 6 arms. That’s 3x the hugging, that’s so much hugs.

🕸️If you’re having a fussy day he wraps you in all 6 of them very tightly to keep you from thrashing about or just to calm you down if you like the pressure

🕸️Keeps every drawing you do for him, they’re all in a folder and he rotates what one gets put up on his door underneath all the pictures of him and everyone else

🕸️You and Fat Nuggets get along like a house on fire

🕸️If you’re feeling upset but don’t want to cuddle or talk about it you can guarantee that you’ve got a little pig squealing at you for cuddles

🕸️Cause Angel is super duper fluffy he’s like your own personal stuffie! He’s perfect for cuddling

🕸️Long fluffy limbs that can squeeze you till you’re asleep, what more could you want!

🕸️He’ll buy you whatever gear you want (or if you don’t want any he’s totally understanding of that!) paci’s, bottles, onesies, stuffies, dips, colouring equipment! You name it, he’s got it!

🕸️Surprisingly good at dealing with tantrums

🕸️If he’s had a rough day and needs a drink you’re coming with him to the bar because he doesn’t trust you not to get in trouble

🕸️Husk will give you things to keep you entertained, ultimately that doesn’t work out and you end up playing with his tail the whole time

🕸️But that’s for my cg!husk post

🕸️Loves, loves, loves giving you little nicknames

🕸️Darlin’, dollface, little one, sweetheart, princess/prince, sugar

🕸️They’re a need

🕸️He also loves dressing you up in outfits, he’ got boxes full of old fabrics that he uses to make you cute little dresses or shirts or whatever you want really

🕸️FASHION SHOWS.

🕸️He will make everyone sit and watch while you show off the outfits he’s made you

🕸️Music, lights, the whole shebang. He’s going all out for his baby

🕸️Circling back to the point of him being really cuddly, he will get pretend jealous if you choose to cuddle a stuffie instead of him

🕸️Rolling his eyes and dramatically sighing while turning away, listening to your giggles

🕸️He lives to keep you entertained, even if it is just holding you on his hip and prancing about the hotel

[jayke0]

Use Your Words

Pairing: Basil Stitt x afab reader

Summary: kinktober day 26, face sitting

Rating: 18+

Warnings/Content: underwear sniffing, male masturbation, face sitting, oral (reader receiving), mocking, praise, "perv" gets thrown around a lot, lmk if there's anything else I should add :).

Word count: 1,297

Credit: @automnepoet for proofreading ily.

.......................……………………………………………

"Just five minutes… then I'll put it back."

Basil mumbles to himself as he searches through your collective laundry hamper, trying to find a pair of underwear that he can use to remind himself of your wonderful scent again.

You'd barely been away for a day, but his cock is already aching with the need to be inside you again. So, after much deliberation, he'd decided that sniffing the slick from your underwear was his best option.

He can already feel his heart pounding as he situates himself back against the pillows. Of course, this isn't the first perverted thing he's done, but it's the first since you'd decided to give him a chance, and he's sure his heart is pounding more so with the fear of you finding him rather than excitement.

Despite that, his cock is still twitching between his legs and begging to be touched, so he swallows the ball in his throat and pulls his cock out. It feels good when the cold air hits his sensitive tip, and he gives himself a few tugs to milk the precum from his throbbing head and spread it down his length with his fingers. 

"Fuck, fuuuck, fuck… I miss you baby.." He whimpers as he squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back to make himself forget that it's not your hand wrapped around his fat dick. A shakey hand brings your underwear up to his face as he sucks in a deep waft of your scent through his nose, a loud moan coming out as he exhales. 

His brows knit together in concentration while his hand starts sliding up and down his cock, nail bitten fingers swiping over the tip a few times to make him buck into his hand. He twists his palm perfectly while continuing to draw in your sweet smell through his nostrils. Pushing the fabric harder against his face, his hand moves faster until eventually he's fucking his fist with desperate moans falling from his lips, soft sobs of "I'm sorry"s and "you smell so good "s all falling on no one's ears, only making him sob more.

Atleast… he thinks it's no one, until he's interrupted by your voice piercing the wet sounds resonating around your room.

"What are you doing, Basil?"

The man scrambles to sit up and throws your underwear across the room, closing his legs together quickly to hide the pulsating heat between his legs.

"I–I, uh—." He chokes out and grabs his shirt to wipe his eyes before fumbling to put himself away; since he hadn't even bothered to pull his slacks down.

"Why are you trying to hide it?" You chuckle coldly and walk closer to him, dropping your bag at the foot of the bed to lean down and stroke his face, "aren't you gonna finish what you started?"

You notice the fear in his eyes, and for a second a frown breaks across your face, worried you'd really upset him this time, but as your eyes pan down his body you realize he's still palming himself through the thin fabric.

"Do you want me to?..." His voice is timid, as it usually is when you've caught him doing something endearingly odd or just downright perverted.

"I would like that, sweetheart, but lemme give you something better to work with, yeah?"

Swiftly, your shirt comes off and joins the underwear tossed into the corner of the room, your jeans and fresh underwear following shortly after. You stand in front of him for a bit while he frantically pulls his cock out again, looking up at you with big soft eyes that beg you to just do something to help him.

"Shit, Basil, I mean... I was only gone for a few hours, are you really just that fucking desperate?" You've already had the answer shown to you, but you want him to prove it, want to have it in spoken word so you can hold it over his head like all the other things you tease him for.

As you crawl onto the bed with him, straddling his rapidly rising and falling chest, you see him nod ashamedly and poke his bottom lip out.

"Oh c'mon, don't gimme that, you perv. Use your words."

He groans quietly and brings his hands up to grab your hips. "Yes, I am so fucking desperate." He says while squeezing the flesh on your hips till his knuckles turn white. He looks so innocent like that, and you're pretty sure he has no idea what you have in store for him, but you know he's going to like it.

"I'm gonna sit on your face, ok? You don't need those stupid underwear, you'd much prefer my real hole, wouldn't you?" Another frantic nod from him has you grinning and rolling your hips on his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt tease your clit. 

Finally, much to Basil's pleasure, you shuffle forward and move your thighs either side of his head, feeling his stubble tickling your ass and thighs as he takes in another large huff to inhale your smell. "Good boy," praise comes from your lips naturally while you bring your hand down to fist his hair, grabbing his soft curls between your fingers. 

"Let me fuck that dumb mouth." 

Basil's moan reverberates through your body and sends shivers up your spine, flicking a switch to make you automatically start grinding against his already flat tongue. He's waiting to taste you, tongue positioned how you like it as if he's made solely for your pleasure, and he loves every second of it, encouraging your hips to roll on his tongue faster so he can fuck the moans out of you.

That man is absolutely deadly with his tongue. His cock is great and all, probably some of the best sex you've ever had and ever will have, but good god does he know how to use his tongue. Maybe that's just the pervert in him, maybe he'd practiced on those silicone toys… whatever or whoever it was, you wanted to give your personal gratitude to them. 

"Shit, baby, just like that— God you know how I love it, such a good fucking boy–"

You grit your teeth and slide your clit over his tongue faster, tugging his hair so his head meets that bundle of nerves with every moment you come down on him. Your head it thrown back, your ears filling with the sounds of your boyfriend eating out your cunt and his moans to show how much he enjoys it, even feeling his hips bucking up in hopes to grind his aching dick against something.

"Love fucking your face Basil... imma cum all over that pretty face, you want that, sweetheart?" Pants replace your moans and you look down at him, the heat spreading through your tummy quickly as he hums a "yes" on you.

Before you can give him another word of praise, your orgasm is crashing over you violently, wracking your body and making you curl forward as you continue to ride out the feeling on his tongue, molten pleasure melting your muscles and making your legs shake like jelly.

Your pants are loud as you cool off and you release the tight grip you had on his hair, shakily sitting back on his chest again as you look at him with a big grin. The wetness on his face makes you smirk, so you lean down to clean your arousal from his chin with your tongue, kissing him needily afterwards.

He wraps his arms around you and tosses you onto your back with a giggle from you. He breaks the kiss and leans back on his heels, gripping his throbbing cock in his hand.

"My turn, baby."

...........................................................................

Prompts by: @/flightlessangelwings

Tagging people: @cowboymarcs @sad1st1c-wh0re @poopoobuttsy @boredzillenial @mllover260 @simpforbritgents @partssoldseparately @keira-kaz2y5 @theincredibleinkspitter @l-lune @red-hydra @queerponcho @summonthesoups @motleyfolk @steven-grants-world @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @minigirl87 @chichimisaki @faretheeoscar

(Lmk if you wanna be added or taken off the tag list and i will work my magic 👍)

[c4n1d43cup1d]

Some hogcanons. notes (me rambling) under the cut

So silver was the reason i wanted to make this in the first place despite him looking the most on model (not entirely obviously, but i don't have many hcs for him). Mostly i wanted to draw his height compared to the other hedgehogs since him being freakishly tall despite being younger than sonic and shadow is funny. I saw someone say hes probably the most conventionally attractive hedgehog and i think that's true, hes a pretty boy and his fur/quills are really sleek and well maintained. The fluff on his chest is less spikey and more fluffy looking plus i put some fluff in his ears as well. I think his paws and nails are black and he doesn't wear eyeliner his lashes are just really long and hes got black markings on his eyes. Coming back to this after writing Amy's desc but i think hes genderqueer in some way idk maybe bigender i need to study him under a microscope some more every character i touch becomes transgender

Sonic has a few more added details, i like giving him a little nick in his ear and top surgery scars because that hog is trans. I haven't really seen many people give him stylized top surgery scars surprisingly, i tried to make his look kind of lightning bolty because uh something about him being fast. idk man. i think i imagined its similar to what itd look like for him to run in a zigzag? whatever i think it looks cool. I think his claws are kind of uneven and he doesn't really care too much about how they look especially since he just has them under gloves most of the time

Amy is fat because i said so, also i gave her wavier quills and heart markings everywhere. Her ears might look a little strange since it like implies her skin is making that heart shape but i imagine thats her fur spiking into the point. Her nails are painted the same red that shadows markings and stuff are mostly because i think them being besties is cute like. i see shadamy as a queer platonic relationship. Theyve always been my favorites im going to to make them as close as i want. Anyway, i think she and sonic are tied for having the shortest ears, and hers are the rounest (might make them even rounder the next time i draw her) also not entirely related to her design but i think shes transfem and genderfluid.

Shadow my son. im taking custody from black doom and gerald. anyway, i have the most headcanons for him because he is my absolute favorite guy ever he rots my brain. I think he and Amy are the same height, his rocket shoes are like platform/heels and so when he has them on he looks like Sonic's height or maybe a teeny tiny bit taller. I give his quills extra little spikes for no reason other than i think its cute, i could bullshit that its a black arms thing but idrc. What are black arms things though are his eyes and claws, his scelera is a more yellow compared to everyone elses (jaundiced as my friend put it. thanks endy) and i didn't draw it but his pupils are slits. Claws are long but are even longer when all the way out (retractable) his gloves are thick enough that he doesn't pierce them but he probably has a few spare pairs. Also not pictured but black arms related: his teeth are fucking razors, larger than the other hedgehogs and also serrated because i think thats cool. his tail is the longest out of all of them though i think it used to be longer but was lopped off in the name of science and never properly grew back. also his inhibitor rings are connected to a sort of device that does the task of being a proper gateway between his internal energy and the rings themselves, i didn't draw them but essentially its like a smaller ring that is embedded into his wrists i think. also hes trans but in a sort of alien way, i think the black arms can do the clownfish genderswap thing and shadow has it to a somewhat lesser degree its like an internal tshot i guess idfk

ok yeah thats all if u made it to the end thanks for reading the ramblings of a mad man

[coeurify]

yeah but knife kink ellie cutting her name on your legs or something because she got jealous of a guy flirting with you at a party??? like “now everytime someone tries to get in between your thighs they’ll see who you belong to” yeah

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ under the cut, knife kink.. obviously. also rlly possessive ellie and some biting.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: oh wow 🫣(this is slightly more tame, i didnt wanna take it toooo far)

“He was all fuckin over you,” Ellie muttered against your neck, biting harshly at the skin. A bruising grip holds your hip to keep it still as you try to buck up into her, the pain that made your head rush causing an involuntary response.

You can barely think, mumbling a few incoherent words before you finally get ahold of your tongue, ironing out how words are supposed to sound, something you had forgotten the moment Ellie pressed you against the wall of the bathroom at the bar in Jackson, and stuck one hand into your skirt, the other holding you in place against the wall.

“He didn’t-“ whimpering brings your words to a halt again as she thrusts a second finger into you, the wet sounds of your cunt welcoming the intrusion playing in your brain on a repeating tape. Blinking back into focus, your neck throbbing, you continue, “didn’t know we were t’gther el,” you pant, only making her grunt.

“He should have, everyone fuckin’ knows you’re my girl,” Ellie finished, eyes set on the fabric of the pretty skirt she had found you on a supply run moved with her hand at every press into your sopping folds. You are too blissed out to even notice the hand pull away from your hip and to thr pocket of her jeans. Nothing catches your attention until you hear the telltale sound of her blade flipping open, drawing a shiver from you.

It wasn't the first time Ellie had brought it out in times that were not exactly the most pure or needed, and flashes of the sharp tip pressing to the skin of your chest clouds your vision, sending you into a woozy memory. That night she had asked a million times if you were sure you wanted it, wanted the cool blade against your skin to tease, to nip at clothing threads. You had begged for it, claiming she could use it whenever she wanted.

Seemingly, she took that to heart.

“Guess they need a reminder, hm pretty girl?” Ellie questioned, skillfully curling her fingers in you as the other hand held the blade to the skin of your thigh that had been on display due to the bunched up skirt.

“I think you do too,” Ellie admits, pausing her fingers inside of you, smiling when you whine and bump your head against the wall in frustration. Your walls pulse around them, and you move your hips to find some relief. You squeeze again when the blade pushes gently into the fat of your thigh. Your girlfriend scoffs at that, mumbling a soft “whore,” under her breath before finding her way back to her original thought.

“You didn’t even turn him down,” She accuses, freckled cheeks moving as her jaw clicks at the memory of you at the bar, blushing a bright red as some new guy offered you a drink. Ellie had walked away one second, and the hungry wolves had already descended.

“I did El, I didn't answer him—“ you whine, trying to defend yourself, hoping it will get her fingers back to moving inside of you. You really didn’t give the man any mind, turning your head as you blushed at the straightforward remark he made. But it didn’t matter now, Ellie had made her mind up.

Ellie huffs in response, “No one else can have you, you know?” the blade drags down your skin, pressing enough to leave a scratch in its wake. A few beads of blood follow in its track, just enough to burn now, and turn into pretty red marks that would eventually fade later.

You feel the blade lift and turn, another sting follows, a new wave of wetness pooling around Ellie’s fingers at the ache. It should be embarrassing, how turned on you got from this. Ellie would surely point that out later when looking to paint your cheeks a pretty red.

When you look down and realize shes made a tiny “E” on the flesh of your thigh, your legs go completely weak, wobbling as your belly tightens. Your head spins at the sight, squeezing your eyes shut to try and calm the way your eyes blur. She had carved her initial into you, left a personal mark on you. The bits of blood drip slightly, making you shiver.

“If someone else even tries to get between these thighs,” the blade is removed from your skin, tucked safely back into her pocket. “They’ll see who you belong to,” Ellie seeths, finger wiping to rid it of the bubbling redness, choking another whimper from you at the burn it brings.

The letter wouldn’t last longer than two weeks, but it still feels extremely permanent for you two, Ellie enamored by the branding on you, green eyes set firmly on the E for a long second before snapping back into it, your shaky breathing pulling her back in.

“My fuckin’ girl,” Ellie says every word with a push of her fingers into you, finally focusing on your needy center again.

“Yours, El,” you whine, hips moving with each thrust, pleasure pulling at all of your nerves, and shocking your whole body. Its only made to be better by the slight ache now on your thigh, paired with that of the soreness on your neck from all the marks.

“All yours.”

[elvisalltheway101]

it’s only words; 60s elvis x reader

Summary: rude customers have been on the daily, annoying, and elvis finally shows up to see them in action.

author’s note: written from an idea by @jhoneybees, my doll 😊 and I hope you enjoy this! Of course, all’s eyes, please enjoy!

••••••••••

words. Words were the last thing you wanted to hear in this mood, time and shift. Especially by some fat fellows that drag their jaws to the table. If you could roll your eyes and just smack them with your tray, you would.

“What’s with the frown, cuppy? Ain’tcha happy to see us?” One nasty, slobbery man speaks from the three at the stuffy, sweaty table. You scoff and walk over with the tray at palm, holding back all urges to just shout back. Cuppy, is the random name that popped outta their yappers and they stuck with it.

You sigh heavily, and slide their expected smoothies to their table and huff. You glance around the men and ignore a gag. “Anything else needed?” You spoke in a confident but irritated voice. They shake and jobber their shiny chins and smirk, “nah, not for now cuppy.”

Only walking away, you hug the tray to your chest and rub your temple. Calming yourself down, and glancing up at the black, laminated clock above the restaurant’s entrance. 10:43 pm. Just under an hour, 17 more minutes and probably 35 more seconds til off time. But who’s counting?

You’re used to the whistles and smiles tossed at your way, but you know who your heart belongs to. And that’s how it’s gonna stay. “Nice ass, cuppy. Might call ya a juggie now.” One deep voice called from behind at the table shouts and they all burst in laughter, shoving at eachother with snickers and hiccups.

You groan and roll your eyes, they might even get stuck like that with the amount of times you’ve been doing it in this minute. But your cheeks burn in harassment and just feeling so irritated.

16 minutes fly past, and you’re beyond glad. Serving the last table was like drawing a Breathe of nice real air, but it’s when an annoying kid slams a drink over the table that you have to be sent over to clean it immediately. “Fucking hell.” You mutter as the spoilt family walk out of the restaurant doors, and you bend down to wipe up the mess with the rag in your palm.

Just at that moment, elvis walks in awaiting and expectant of a hug from his lover doll. He frowns as he glances around and enters the creaky, shiny doors but smiles softly as your work hard to do your job. He decides to not disturb or surprise you just yet, wandering away by the jobbery men.

As you continue to wipe up the sticky juice, he sighs dreamily but it’s rudely interrupted when one of the sweaty guys nudge him with a smirking smile, “ay, she’s got a nice ass, don’t she?” He raises a brow in confusion, and looks his way. “Mm, a nice shake with it too.” One of the other men chirps and snickers, but you’ve already heard and had enough.

Before Elvis can even express emotion or smart mouth any of them shitheads, you jump to your feet and stomp up their table, throwing the dirty rags of dust and other messes you’ve picked up with it, right into their faces. “Perverts!” You shout but then you immediately stop once your eyes shoot accidentally connected to Elvis’ blue confused ones.

••••

Before you know it, he carries you out and tries to pat your shoulders in attempt to cool off steam. “Now why- can, what’s goin on?” He stutters out and glances over your eyes, and you huff. Frustrated but still a little grateful he caught you in his arms. You pout and sniffle lightly, not realizing that you’ve gotten so upset that your doll eyes swell with glossy tears. “It’s just that, that, those guys a-are so nosy and annoying, and inappropriate. It’s giving me a headache!” You whine and gasp out, as he thrusts you into his welcoming arms.

“Shhh, shhh, s’okay baby.” He soothes you gently, craddling you in his arms along the cold, chilly air on the sidewalk. “S’only words, baby doll. It’s only words. And besides, I’ve been told ya that you can quit this pig bed. Y’know I don’t like my baby working and sweating over stuff she ain’t deserving of.”

he pours and pulls you at arms length to scan your eyes with reassurance, and you smile gently and nod slowly. “M’kay. Y-you’re right it’s only words.” He smiles and nods with his chin out, “mhm, and I’ll get them sonovabitches once your pretty eyes fall sleep. Mkay?”

He smiles a playful, but promising smile with a light in his eyes. You giggle and nod vigorously, and Elvis smiles as he wipes away your upset tears and snot.

“It’s only words.”

••••••••

tag list: @jhoneybees @your-nanas-love @pomtherine

[latimeria-fell-from-heaven]

#𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄, 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄.

🎀 asked ↺ HPLY SHIT FLAMEBRINGER HAS ME DOWN BAD. HIS VOICE. THE EDGE MIXED WITH A LOVE FOR FLOWERS... NEW SARKAZ BOY ACQUIRED /VPOS. i feel like he's either the sweetest lover or wants to take you from behind and fuck you into oblivion. there is no in-between.

cw. sub!reader, mean!flamebringer, rough sex, cumming inside (use condoms irl!!), big cock, overstimulation, dacryphilia, possessive behaviors, size kink, strength kink, hickies, blood kink, mating press, full nelson, doggy style & sex marathons. MINORS DNI!!

art credit. (please go check 'em out, art is super good!! they do have nsfw art so minors beware!!)

he's the type of boyfriend who would use you as his personal armrest, but if someone else tries it, he swings at them then acts like he didn't just try to start a fight. honestly the man is so unpredictable but i'm pretty sure he'd be less of a menace to you at the very least, letting you fall asleep on his admittedly comfy chest without voicing a complaint once. and good luck trying to pry him off of you when he's fallen asleep on you, bc that man has an absolute death grip and he's not gonna let go anytime soon.

flamebringer can and will fuck you into oblivion, his calloused hands tightly gripping your waist as he slams himself against your backside over and over. his cock spreads you open far wider than what could be considered normal, reaching so deep that you swear you can feel him in your stomach. each brutish thrust pricks at nerves that have you sobbing and babbling stupidly, erasing any figments of thoughts or cares. there's nothing to ground you, nothing to think of but the way flamebringer fucks you into the mattress until he finally cums, painting your insides white with thick creamy globs. but just once isn't enough to satisfy him — the sarkaz needs the entirety of rhodes island to know who's fucking you this good. he won't stop until his stamina has run out and he's emptied his heavy balls into you, even if you're beyond exhausted by that point.

the hickies and deep bites he leaves behind are the type that stand out like a sore thumb and take weeks to heal up entirely. all the makeup in the world can't hide the indents of his teeth against your collarbone, or the love bites decorating the sides of your neck. and that doesn't even begin to account for the mess he made on the rest of your body. his bites tear deep enough to draw blood, the pain triggering fat tears to stain your cheeks, and he watches with a primal sort of hunger when he watches you sob like that. it's gotten to the point where you've begun to become terribly aroused by the searing pain, your mind so fogged that you can only focus on the painful pleasure that flamebringer delivers. and all of it is done with a purpose, since he's got such a nasty possessive streak on him, smug arrogance filling his chest when he watches you make a feeble, and admittedly pathetically adorable, attempt at walking after he'd just finished blowing out your backside.

flamebringer's strength is the source of his fiery pride, especially since he can use it to his advantage when he wants to fuck you senseless. he can, without a doubt, fuck you in full nelson, arms hooked under your plush thighs, his self-control cracking with each warbled moan escaping your lips. mating press has to be his absolute favorite, however, since he can watch each cute expression you make and be able to crush you beneath him, snuffing out any hopes you have of attempting to crawl away from him. the position allows him to reach even deeper, his fat cock brushing against sensitive nerves that leave you jolting and desperately clinging onto him. he just finds it so cute that you're chanting his name — stupidly babbling it like it's the only thing you can even remember. and of course, each time he cums, each load will stay safely nestled deep inside your oversensitive hole. at least, until he pulls out, your gaping walls unable to keep his seed from dripping out.

keep being this cute and pliant for him and he really may never want to ever let you go. it's only a matter of time before he can truly claim you as his♡

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Glad to see you’re back, don’t forget to take self care time ❤️

If you could, would you be willing to do a Bonten!Sanzu’s secret girlfriend, one that must be kept a secret and what happens when they are finally caught by Mikey? It would be muuuuch appreciated ❤️

Happy to try my hand at this!

Dodged Bullet: Sanzu Haruchiyo x Fem!Reader

wc: 715

tw: NSFW

masterlist

"Scoot the seat back a little, Haru..."

Car sex isn't your favorite type of mid-day rendezvous. It's probably on the "Top 5 Things I Wouldn't Want To Be Caught Dead Doing" List, but you make exceptions here and there. Especially when it comes to Sanzu Haruchiyo.

"What," he chuckles, fingers fidgeting with the reclining function. "Can't ride me just like this?"

"Cock is too big," you reply, flinging your hair over your shoulder and hiking your mini skirt up as you slide onto his lap. "My back would hit the horn too often." The pink-haired menace laughs out loud as he leans back, holding your waist in his right hand.

You smash your lips against his in an effort to avoid drawing any attention to your escapades, your hands fiddling with his belt while he slips your underwear to the side.

"Live a little, sweetcheeks," Sanzu purrs between kisses, his fingers rolling over your ass while you grind on his erection. "You're always so uptight."

"Your boss is always uptight." Sanzu's blue eyes shift as you mention Mikey, but he doesn't reply. It doesn't ruin the mood even in the slightest. He just shifts his pants down his hips and fists his erection.

"You're gonna take this cock, and you're gonna like it. Got it, babe?"

"When have I ever not liked it?" Sanzu's mouth spreads into a cheeky grin, and you slide onto his waiting dick, lubricated only by his pre-cum and your slick. There's nothing else to say except the usual praises and comments about how you're "such a good girl" and how "fucking fat" Sanzu's dick is.

It takes just as long as it needs to for your hips to buck and quiver and for Sanzu to cum in you - raw, as is the standard these days. You're left panting and waiting for Sanzu to ask you to roll off him when you feel the lace of your underwear rip salaciously.

"Haru!" Your shout doesn't deter the thief, however. It just makes him laugh as he pulls your black underwear off and presses it to his nose.

"Fuck yeah," he comments, eyes rolling in his head. "That'll be a nice one to save."

"You're lucky I don't have anyone to tell about this," you tease, smacking your boyfriend on the chest.

"Too bad," Sanzu drawls, looking over at you. "I think it'd be cute to share that I keep my girlfriend's underwear, don't you think?"

"Haruchiyo."

The almost-whisper of his name draws the man out of his daydream. Sanzu sits upright on the couch and looks at his boss, ready and waiting.

"Yes, Mikey?"

"Explain something to me." Sanzu frowns. He's never been asked to explain anything before - that's Kakucho's and Koko's job. But he still remains at attention, watching his boss stand up from his seat and toss a phone into his lap.

It takes a minute for Sanzu to comprehend the footage, but after a while, he starts to remember the parking lot, the car, the garage of the hotel, the mid-day rendezvous.

"Are you into hookers now?" Mikey looks down at him, and he can't decipher whether Mikey's mad or concerned. But it doesn't matter. He'll have to lie just this one time.

"She's an escort," Sanzu shrugs. "She's cheap and always available. Easy fuck, and lets me keep her underwear if I'm decent." Mikey hums, placing his hands in his pockets.

"Interesting." There's a pause, and when Mikey doesn't move to take the phone back, Sanzu hands it over. "That's not what she said."

Sanzu pales.

"She's more of the 'lies to get out of things' type, Mikey." Black eyes flick over to Sanzu's face. "It's really nothing."

"Then quit fucking her on my time, Haruchiyo." Mikey snatches the phone back. "And on my dime."

"Yes," Sanzu answers as Mikey shuffles off. "Whatever you say, boss."

"What you do on your time is up to you," Mikey tosses back, raising his hand to wave at the air. "But if you waste my time with a hussy, I'll make sure she can never service anyone again."

Sanzu doesn't realize how long he'd been holding his breath until Mikey disappears, and he lets it go, feeling the graze of the metaphorical bullet he just narrowly dodged.

[nevadas-night-time-novelist]

Auditor, Phobos, 2BDamned and Sanford with a reader that overworks themselves. Prioritizing work over mental and physical health, pushing themselves to their breaking point, skipping meals and only getting a few hours of sleep. I just need these four in particular to tell me to take care of myself and care about me argggh

Overworked reader

Audi, Phobos, Doc, Sanford

CW: bit of a mental spiral on San's end, ends well tho.

Burnouts a bitch man, don't wear yourself thin over shit, y'hear?

Auditor

"Are the chef's meals not to your liking?" You nearly jumped out of your seat when Auditor's ghostly whisper filled your ear. Casting your aching, tired eyes from your paperwork at the once hot meal, still arranged with care on the plate, completely untouched from the moment it left the kitchen.

"Oh, no. Of course not. They're good, don't worry." You offered him a weak smile. "I'll have it later, I just need to finish this up." Audi's eyes narrowed as you gestured meekly to your desk, piled high with reports, cloning records, casualty tallies, and other such boring admin work.

"It's cold." He grumbled, spinning your chair to face him, hands on his hips. "You're going to really hurt yourself and burn out if you keep pulling these awkward hours. Don't think I haven't noticed you slipping from our bed to come back to this. Did you forget how light a sleeper I am?"

Audi's stern demeanour dropped as your features fell, already feeling low because of how your body was struggling, now having your boss/lover add to that. "I just need to be able to keep up with you. What use am I really if I can't handle a fraction of the work you do?"

His hand rested under your chin, thumb delicately stroking your cheek. "You could never keep up with me, my flame, I was made to handle this. You're just a delicate mortal, you do more than enough without stressing yourself trying to level with me. Allow me to finish this later, mea vita, you are going to get a hot, fresh meal while I draw a bath for us, and after you will get the rest your body needs. That's an order, from your employer, understood?"

"Yes, but-"

He cut you off. "No 'ifs, ands, or buts,' You are going to hurt yourself, and I refuse to allow anyone to hurt you, even self inflicted pain. I, as your partner and boss, will clear this burden for you. When I asked for your best, I meant the best you can consistently handle, not this. You're not yourself, and I command you seek out that old self that I fell for and bring them back to me instantly."

Phobos

Being the director's lover had essentially no downsides, nobody spoke a bad word around you, people helped you far more than before, not to mention the adoration of the most powerful figure in the physical realm. However, that same man would often breathe down your neck, commanding you to stay by his side constantly.

Phobos relished in you, watching you, listening to you, being around you. He wished to be adored equally in return, however your work proved to be a distraction from him. He was... a tad obsessive, but how could he not be? He's a god, it was only right you'd devote yourself to him and him alone.

"Leave that alone will you? Your god requires your attention." A large clawed hand rested on your shoulder, the other pulling down his bandages from his mouth. "Your recent neglect of me is not going unnoticed, dear."

You rubbed your aching eyes, staring at a computer screen all day and most of the night irritated them. "I'm sorry Bo, but there's a lot of work that needs reviewing, I've got weeks of backlog to go through, and Christoff, Crackpot and Gonne have all submitted new reports today with pages and pages of intel to go through."

His hands wrapped around your middle, he lifted you up and took your place on the chair, resting you in his far more comfortable lap. "Bah, they're not worthy of your time. I'll command someone else to do it, the short fat one, whatever his name is. He enjoys paperwork and the like."

"Hofnarr is no doubt as swamped as I am." He took your face in one of his hands, his cracked and damaged lips pressing against your cheek.

"Someone else then, if it pleases you. Whatever it takes for you to spend time with me." You leaned into him, your back pressing against his chest, and he emitted a deep purr. "I am a god amongst men, dear, I don't beg for what I desire. I take it. And yet I allow you this honour. So please..."

Your stomach rumbled against his hand. "Harumph! Neglecting yourself as much as you've neglected me?! How dare you, enough is enough. I command you take care of yourself!" Phobos picked you up with ease, holding you level to his eye. To anyone else, he'd be holding them by their collar, or neck to meet his gaze, but with you, he was softer. A hand under your rump and the other on your back, supporting your weight comfortably.

"You are the lover of a god, think how pitiful it would look if I can't even take care of my equal? You stand above others, the right hand of my throne. Your duties have changed, lesser beings will take charge of them. Your only priorities are yourself and me, and the family we will create." Phobos snapped his fingers, and one of the guards at the door came forward.

"See to it that the chefs prepare your God's favourites, find someone to take their duties on and allow them to be truly indulged as they should be." Phobos looked back to you, his eye narrowing. "I will tear this world asunder for you, and build it up as you desire. I will give you anything your heart pines for, never again shall you be run ragged like this."

Phobos was self assured, a god of the highest order, surrounded by weaker, lesser beings. And yet here he was, begging at your altar. He wished you'd devote yourself equally to worshipping you as he did, and he would make damn sure that happened.

2BDamned

3 AM. Doc was in the kitchen, boiling some water over the stove. Hank has smashed the coffee maker earlier in the day, said he'd accidentally dropped the thing, yet couldn't explain the crowbar in his hands. Doc gritted his teeth, damn Wimbleton, making his hard job harder with their stupid thoughtless actions.

He had no doubt the fool had burned themselves on the machine and gone overboard against the poor helpless thing in revenge. Now here he stood, using the stove to make both his coffee and his snack. Instant noodles, his saving grace in the world. Easy to prepare, quick to eat, and filling.

With bleary, tired eyes, you wandered into the dim kitchen, hearing Doc grumbling to himself about 'Getting that moron to find another working machine or he'll have his spine inserted upside down next time.'

"Hey sweetheart." Yawning and setting your tablet down, you wrapped your arms around his midriff and leaned your face into his back. One hand pulled way from the stove, running down your arm before resting atop your hand, feeling the ring around your finger.

"You should be asleep, love." Doc murmured, his animosity towards Hank gone in the wind. You inhaled deeply, basking in his familiar scent.

"I could say the same to you, Kyle." He let out a soft 'Hm.', agreeing without agreeing. You were right, of course. "Debugging with Dei was going well, till he nodded off. San came by on one of his usual bathroom breaks and picked him up."

Doc poured the water into his noodle cup. "You want some coffee?" He took your favourite mug out of the cupboard.

"I thought you wanted me to sleep." You teased tiredly.

"You're my spouse. I know you well enough to know that's not gonna happen anytime soon, even if I would like it if you did." He tossed some powdered milk into the cups along with the beans. "We don't have any sugar left I'm afraid, or sweetener. It's become so scarce these days. Ration packages can't even supply a tiny packet anymore."

"I can get sugar anytime I've got you around." Doc smiled and turned off the hob, turning around to pull you into his arms. "Can I get some now?"

As far as you two were concerned, nothing else existed, everything except what was in both your arms was null and void. He tilted his head down slightly, lips catching yours softly. Butterflies fluttered in your tummy, they flared up every time your husband kissed you.

You rested your head on his chest, it was rare you two had a truly private moment together, as much as you both tried. Being enemies of the state was hard work, who'd have thought?

"You should really lay down dear." Your eyes fluttered open, and you looked up to him. You hadn't even realised you'd started dozing off in his arms.

"No, I've got work to do." You yawned, and Doc chuckled softly.

"You're really stubborn sometimes, you know that?" He picked up both coffees and his noodles. "Tell you what, grab your tablet and we can get cosy in bed together. Work can wait until later, I think we've overdue some private couple time."

Nestled in the crook of Doc's arm felt like the safest place in the world, even with coffee in your system, you couldn't help but fall asleep with him. Trust and love deep rooted, he was your sanctuary.

And damn it, he was going to get you into a healthier sleep routine.

Sanford

It'd been a couple weeks since you'd seen Ford, Doc had sent him off on recon work with Deimos and a splinter group from a faction allied with the SQ, they'd been on the other side of Nevada having heard whispering of something dangerous settling out there.

Two weeks of silence left you anxious, pacing around often, skipping meals and staying up into the early hours of the morning. Longing makes the heart sick, and a sick heart makes the body weak.

The only think you could do to keep your mind occupied was cleaning out the gun stash, checking over the stocked rounds repeatedly, despite the numbers never changing, cleaning already dirt and grime free steel.

A scrubbing brush in hand, you scraped at one of the many swords Hank had salvaged, violently jolting the bristles back and forth over either rust, or really crusted on blood just above the hilt.

Doc usually kept you in the loop of long jobs, sometimes you'd even be in walkie talkie range of your partner and could hear his voice. He could be hurt, he could be dead, you'd be none the wiser, and that was maddening.

Of course you weren't needy and dependant on him, that'd be too much, but just a sign he was okay would've been enough to give you peace of mind. It's the not knowing that drove you to dark places.

Bang!

You jumped in your seat as the front door slammed. "Baby, you here? I'm back." Dropping the blade, you got to you feet and rushed to the door.

"Sanford, you're okay?!" You leaped into his arms, and he caught you easily. Oh sweet security, your world had come home to you safely.

"Yeah babe," San leaned back slightly to get a good look at you, his loving gaze turning to concern. "uh, hope you don't mind me sayin' doll/stud, but you look like hell." His hands brushed over your hair. "...When did you last shower?"

Suddenly you felt rather embarrassed, it'd been a.... couple days at least. Probably about a week since you'd stopped properly taking care of yourself. Swapping meals out for multiple junk snacks, a fucked up sleeping schedule consisting of occasional naps but mostly anxious pacing and activity.

"Uhm..." That was an answer enough for him.

"Baby," Sanford rubbed his cheek, clearing off some dust from his face. "you need to take care of yourself." He sighed and took off his sunglasses. "Have you even been eating properly?"

You didn't meet his gaze. "Okay. Tell you what," He took off his dirty tank top and tossed it aside. "I'll pull out something from the freezer, shove it in the oven while we get a nice shower, and then we can eat and get some rest." Just being near him, hearing his melodic voice again was enough to bring you to a sense of normalcy.

Sanford was fine, he was alive, he was here.

"Things have just been a bit... off without you." You sighed, clinging to his frame, almost afraid if you let him go, he'd run off for another two weeks, or longer. "Sorry, it's just been a lot to deal with, not knowing where you were, if you were safe... It's been hard."

"I get it. I do, I really do," Sanford had his own experiences with deep depression, despite being the large stoic type, the horrors of war, what he and his friends had to do to get an advantage against everything haunted him. "fight, flight, freeze is a real thing, but you can't just shut down baby. You gotta keep fightin, keep yourself in good shape 'cause it's a scary world out there."

"I know. It's easier said than done though." Sanford pulled out a tray of his legendary frozen mac n cheese, you hadn't checked the freezer since he'd left, otherwise that would've been long gone. You didn't know how he did it, but it was godly each time he made it.

"I get that." He shoved the tray into the oven, flicking switches to heat up the frozen dish. "You gotta change how you think, baby." You watched him take off his bandanna, revealing his hair. Or lack thereof.

"You shaved your head?" Usually he'd grow out his hair, style it into long locs and keep them tied back and under his bandanna, but once in a blue moon he'd get bored of maintaining them, and shave it off to start again.

Sanford ran a hand over his scalp, feeling the small curls starting to reappear. "Yeah, easier than trying to keep it clean out there. Dusty as hell." His hands came to rest on your shoulders, turning you to the bathroom. "No bother, I've got your hair to care for now. I'mma spoil you rotten."

Years of caring for his baby siblings had taught the beefcake that just telling someone what to do usually didn't help, but doing it along side them helped solidify the action. He'd help you get cleaned up, get back to eating proper food and getting proper sleep.

He needed to fall into the routine too, sleeping rough in trucks was a pain in his back, and access to his comfy old bed would do him wonders to getting decent sleep again. A full belly and his favourite person in the entire world cuddling into his pecs definitely helped too.

Yes, he needed this just as much as you did.

[wordynerdygurl]

Yours

Author's Note:  Hello lovelies!  As promised, here's an Eddie Munson x Plus Size Female Reader for you to enjoy!

I was insanely inspired by @cicithefreakmunson and a tiktok they created, so do yourself a favor an check it out!

Pairing:  Eddie Munson x Plus Size Fem Reader

Summary:  Eddie needs to make sure that everyone knows who has your heart both in public and private.

Warnings:  SMUT, a fat phobic comment, fighting, mention of blood, swearing, sexy times, spanking, oral sex (female receiving), and some rougher relations in a committed relationship.  If I've missed anything, kindly let me know!



While Eddie was on stage, eyeing you from over the head of his guitar, the final notes of Corroded Coffin’s set swirling around the club, he had to watch some drunk choade stumble into your space, dick first.  This guy’s hands pawing at your wide curves, spilling his drink on you intentionally to make your shirt see-through.  Pulling you to him as you desperately tried to push him away had Eddie’s eyes clouding over at the audacity.  Didn’t this asshole know better?

To his credit, he did take a second to hand his six stringed sweetheart to Gareth before jumping off the stage in a flurry of hair, stomping your way, anger evident in the set of his shoulders.

“Hey baby, miss me?”  Eddie’s arms snaking around you, dragging you tight to his body to show everyone and most especially the sad sack trying to man-handle you, that you were already here with someone.

No, not someone.  Him.  It was him.  By some lucky roll of the die you were his girl and Eddie’s blood was boiling at the thought that this lesser man had the gall to even look your way.

Rising up on your toes, you let Eddie claim you with a long and hard kiss before turning back towards the interloper, smiling widely, “You know I always miss you, Eddie.”

Protectively, Eddie looks you over, barely keeping the icy edge out of his tone, “This uh, gentleman, bothering you?”

Shaking your head, you have to bite back a girly giggle.  He’s defending you and your honor against the groping goofus.  You’d be lying if you said it didn’t affect you; his brooding stare, the twitchy energy in his shoulders, all of his base masculinity on display.  If you weren’t in the middle of The Hideout, surrounded by metalheads and townies, you would have thrown yourself right at Edward Munson, reputation be damned.

But you know better than to push your beautiful boy, especially when he’s snapping with unspent adrenaline, plus, this little scene is already drawing a crowd.  Doing your best to diffuse the tension, your gaze never leaving Eddie’s face, you tisked, “Naw baby, he was just leaving.”

Circling behind you now, laying his chin on your shoulder while his arms circle your middle, Eddie was staring daggers at the intruder, “Then he should go then, right honey?”

Tired of you both talking at him, unsteady on his feet, the drunk practically shouts his confused frustration, “What the hell is your problem man?”

Eddie moves you behind him, shielding you from whatever comes next, angrily barking into the stranger’s face, “You can’t go grabbing chicks, dude.  Especially not my chick.”

Using his bottled beer, the man pointed at you, “That’s your girl?  That fat bi-”  That’s all the goon manages to get out before Eddie punches the handsy stranger hard and fast, his nose erupting in a spray of blood.

From that night on, the outward signs of your devotion to each other become more important than ever.  You were Eddie’s girl and he was your guy.  Everyone else had to get their own or get fucked, a beating he personally loved delivering, if it meant keeping you safe and by his side.

The next time he plays you’re draped in his denim cut, the one that every single soul inside the club knows belongs to him.  After that, you show up in a Corroded Coffin t-shirt, the words “I’m With the Band” stenciled on the back, just in case anyone forgets what brings you back to The Hideout week after week.  But it’s not enough, not for Eddie.

Each day you wore bracelets.  Black and neon green rubber circles that fill the gap between your elbow and your wrist, hot pink and orange, just for fun, and when he feels the need to remind the world who holds onto your heart, Eddie’s silver handcuffs.  Both locked on your right side so you could move around freely and shake hands with whoever, but jingling all night long was the narrow chain between the pair, reinforcing the idea that you were his and his alone, while also making you look hard as fuck.

Heads turn your way, inevitably, at the sight of you together.  Him, tall and lean, you short with sweeping curves.  The adoration on your face matched by the desire in Eddie’s.  And even though you were rounder in figure and fuller in the hips than most of the girls who flocked to The Hideout, working hard in their shiny spandex and over teased bangs, Eddie only had eyes for you.

Now, it was no longer possible to feel his nimble fingers with their calloused pads brushing over your exposed shoulder and not get goosebumps, no matter how crowded the bar was that night.    You couldn’t imagine walking into a room without his hand in your back pocket, pressing against your ample bottom with every swinging step.  How would you ever enjoy a concert or a conversation when his long arm wasn’t draped along your shoulder, or, even better, wrapped around you so his leather jacket creaked against your cheek, the heat of his hand resting possessively on the skin above your full breasts?

You can’t.  It’s not even a remote possibility, not anymore.  Eddie “The Freak” Munson had made you one too and there was no going back.

When he somehow manages to keep you out of his grasp, a truly difficult task for the boy, you still feel the presence of phantom threads connecting you every time you even glance at a mirror.  Your graceful neck could be loaded with necklaces, velvet chokers and chains but no one noticed your jewelry.  All they could see were the lavender splotches where Eddie had sucked and nipped and licked your tender flesh into bruises old and new.  Every one a badge of honor you happily displayed because removable tokens of Eddie’s devotion were no longer enough for either one of you.

You, in your trashy fishnet tights, a cut off pair of denim shorts barely covering the crease where your ass became the back of your thighs.  You, in an ancient Led Zeppelin t-shirt that was so holey you had to wear a tank top underneath it or risk being charged with indecent exposure.  You, with the chopped hair and black eye-liner, a busted out pair of boots and your pleased, crimson smile just for him.

He was so fucking yours.  

Much later, in the divine dark of early morning, his trailer filled with smoke and shadow, Eddie’s lighter flicks to life.  The golden rays highlight his long lashed eyes, solely focused on setting the twisted tip of his joint alight, ready to inhale the fragrant fog.  Drawing deeply, puffing his chest, you watch Eddie lean towards you, his lips puckered and ready.

Fisting your hand into his beloved Hellfire Club shirt, you pull him near enough to kiss, but that wasn’t on the agenda.  Your lips part sweetly, eyes fluttering closed as Eddie exhales the scented smoke from his lungs into your own.  Billowing gently through his lips, the vapor curls around you both in milky white swirls as you gratefully inhale his breathy discharge.

It wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, but it tastes different when it comes from him; sweeter somehow and you flatten your palms along the plains of his chest, overeager for his kiss.  He knows it too.  Recognizing the wanting in your face, moving close enough that your noses bump together, Eddie turns his head at the last moment which makes you huffy.  Inhaling another drag, causing the joint’s cherry to flame brighter, his free hand tangles in the tendrils at your neck, holding you steady as he blows another shotgun directly between your open lips.

Needy now, you drift closer, ready to bridge the millimeters of distance between your mouth and Eddie’s only to be thwarted by his holding grip, “So pretty, baby.  One more, alright?”

And he’s asking you, but there’s no need for that because Eddie knows that you’re going to let him do whatever he wants.  Licking over your bottom lip you stare hungrily at the burning paper, jealous that it gets to touch his full mouth when you haven’t yet.  You try to be patient but Eddie’s just taking so long on the drag.  Frenzied, you can’t help but whine, “Honey!  Please!”

He doesn’t answer in words.  Heavily ringed fingers grab at your chin, the cool metal digging into your overheated skin as he forces your lips into a pretty pout.  Eddie pauses, drawing out the long seconds while the smoke expands inside his chest, pinning you under his steely gaze.  When he’s satisfied that you’re gonna be good, be patient, and his body is almost screaming for fresh air, only then does he release another lungful of sacred smoke into your waiting mouth.

Before you can enjoy what he gives you, Eddie’s licking into you with his tongue.  His hands move to cradle your face, a palm pressing to each cheek, as your desperate lips reach out for him.  Then he’s deepening the kiss you’re sharing in the streaking silver smog, melding you together.  His tongue, your tongue, tangling together.  The push and pull of your shared passion flavored with sugary sighs and the musky scent of sativa, it’s wrecking you.

When you feel Eddie shifting beside you, kneeling up to shuck his jacket before tossing it somewhere, you pivot on the couch.  No longer sitting side by side, now your legs stretch out in front of you, wedged between Eddie’s black denim covered thighs.  There’s a lean, wolfish look on his face that makes you flush because you understand instinctively that he’s the predator.

That makes you prey.

Dancing, his fingers draw over your legs, glazing across the criss-crossed knots of your tights, the sensation tickling and tantalizing.  It’s enough to make you huff out a sound that’s half laugh, half moan and he’s enchanted.  You buck beneath Eddie, earning a cracked groan as he falls forward to caging you beneath him, his hair a curtain of dark curls.  As he nuzzles into your neck, sucking a fresh mark onto your sensitive skin, he can’t help but say, “You make such pretty noises, baby.”

Rubbing your feet together, Eddie’s attention turning you on, you purr pleasantly, “It tickled!”

“This?”  And he smooths an experimental hand over your plush thighs, pressing the black strings of your fishnets into your flesh, watching your reaction with his dilated eyes locked onto your own.  He’s toying with your cutoff’s fringe, widening his palms under the hem of your short shorts but over the stretched diamond pattern of your tights.  With each pass his hands reach lower; the little touched spaces behind your knees, the inner curve of your calves, the shape of your ankles.  And every time he returns to the swell of your hips, his thumbs circling closer and closer to your still covered cleft but stopping short of the connection you want most.

It’s torture.  Delicious, exquisite torture which has you biting your bottom lip as you roll against the weight of him.  Gasping sharply, your head tips over the couch’s arm as you nod mindlessly, “Uh huh…”

He meets your body halfway, grinding into you aggressively, shamelessly.  It’s unbelievable, really.  The way your thick, soft body welcomes his touch.  How you bend your knees reflexively, letting Eddie rock into the warm wet at the center of your legs, his grip squeezing the tender flesh of your ass.  Your panting, desperate sounds, so low and throaty, egging him on.

“Gotta get rid of these, well, you called ‘em shorts, baby, but-” popping the brass button open, Eddie’s hands flare open over your waist, “-damn...  They don’t cover much.”

You find his forearms, pretty painted nails digging in deep as your fingers flex, “Wanted to show off for you, babe.  Wanted you to be- Oh, ah!”  Gasping, you're interrupted by the rough yanking Eddie’s employing to get you out of your cut-offs as quickly as possible.

Lifting his head with a triumphant smirk, Eddie licks over his bottom lip while he fiddles with the belt loops of your bottoms, lust darkening his eyes, “Wanted me to be what, sweetheart?”

Shifting your shoulders, you risk a wide-eyed stare his way before declaring clearly, “Wanted you to be proud to show me off.”

“Sugar-” his voice dropped an octave, gravely and rumbling, “-you’re the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen.  I’m more than proud, baby.  I’m fucking honored to be your man.  I mean, damn, just look at you, huh?”

If only you could see what Eddie did;  heat on your cheeks in uneven patches glowing in the dusky dim, legs spread so wide now that one of your feet was on the floor, the other caught under the couch’s back cushion.  Weed soaked, your eyes softly shut, ready to fly open at the faintest touch from his working class hands.  Your perfect, plump mouth parted to sigh, to sing, to bite into your bottom lip when you worried about being too loud.

Shit, even that ratty old t-shirt was sexy as fuck, riding high enough that he could see how hard your nipples had become, showing off the impressions where his fingertips sunk into the velvet skin of your sensitive breasts.  Eddie loved every inch of it.  Every inch of you.

Suddenly shy, you move, trying to tug down the hem of your shirt but Eddie bats your hands away, “Uh uh.  Need to see you, beautiful.  Want to see more, in fact.”

Before you can stop him, Eddie’s wicked hands course over your thighs again, ready to resume undressing you.  Lifting your hips high, high, higher, you hear the wind leave his lungs.  Pinching into your quads, his rings gouge at you, causing a squeak, “Eddie?  Baby?  What’s… is something wrong?”

“You’re not wearing anything under here.  No, uh, panties?”

His voice is low, flat.  No flourishes, no teasing and it’s so unlike him that you reach out for reassurance, “Oh!  That-” your hands trace over his braced arms, giggling a little in relief, “-they felt weird so, I just didn’t-”

“Didn’t wear any fucking panties.”  Now his voice is rasping and raw because Eddie is spiraling at the vision he sees.  The thick, black seam of your tights cuts right over the centerline of your slit, daring him to trace its path.  Your pussy calls out to him from the woven prison you’ve been wearing all night, the strings closest to you are a damp barrier to the very place Eddie wants to devour.

For a long second you think you’ve fucked up.  Eddie’s frozen in place, unmoving until you nudge him with a knee, “Babe?  You ok?”

“Can’t believe you, honey.  Leaving my pretty kitty uncovered so anyone could see her… touch her?”

There’s a jealous tint to his tone making you clench with want even though you feel like you need to defend yourself, “Don’t want anyone else to- to touch me.  Just you, baby.  Only you.”

Those are the right words because Eddie recommits himself to getting you off.  Without answering, he drops his head to your tummy, kissing a hard line from your belly button downward.  The softness of his hair brushing over the recently abused skin makes you shiver as your hands tangle in his hair and Eddie groans at the contact.

You?  You’re lost in the sensation of his lips.  Every scorching, open mouth smooch can be felt through the diamond windows of your fishnet tights, intensifying the high, as Eddie’s tongue presses against your clit, the conflicting textures creating heavenly friction.

Hissing, you yank hard on his curly mop, desperation making your legs shake.  Eddie growls into your lower lips, anxious to suck on your straining pearl properly, racy hosiery be damned!  You register his frustration.  It makes him fierce, feral, as he tries again to lap at you through the restrictive garment.  Like putty in his hands, your thighs rudely part at his coaxing, stretching the black elastic near to breaking, but still denying Eddie what he wants most: you.

“Oh, fuck this!”  With that declaration, right over your weeping hole, Eddie presses two fingers into you taking your filmy tights with him.  He feels a thread let go, then another, and soon a sizable hole is spreading with every forward motion of his twisting, teasing fingers.  Tearing easily, the rip widens, unable to sustain the repeated invasion.

Before you can acclimate to the intrusion, he withdraws, eyes wild and wide.  His strong fingers jerk hard, the seam of your tights giving way with a satisfying snap.  Eddie’s mouth, complete with a satisfied smirk, lowers to your core where he sweeps his tongue in a flat line between your folds, finally able to access your sweetcandy center.

Shaking your hips, you move in time with his licks, the animal in you rising to the surface, “Fuck, Eddie!  Yes!  Shit!”

Those fingers, so used to sliding down frets, slip into you unhindered.  Using the thumb of the same hand to rub your overstimulated clit, Eddie’s free palm coasts over your hip and the wide waistband of your destroyed tights, snapping the stretchy fabric harshly.  Arching into the surprising pop of pain, he catches the back of your head in his hand, kissing you hard with clicking teeth and clashing tongues.

Frantic, you tug at his shirttail, the need to feel his bones on your bones overwhelming.  “Need to feel you baby!”

But Eddie shakes his head, he’s not ready to let you go, not yet.  “Cum on my fingers first,”  Curving his digits deliberately, your walls constrict when he tickles against that soft, spongy place only he can seem to reach.  Then he does it again, seeing your whole body stutter as the contact short circuits your nervous system.

Still on his knees between your own, Eddie’s holding you close enough to rest his forehead to yours, a sweet, sweaty smile on his face, “Please baby.  I wanna see you come apart for me.  Just for me, yea?”

It’s the encouragement you need, his words flipping a switch inside you.  Everything in your body contracts: your abdominals, the muscles in your legs, the bones in your toes, the tendons in your neck.  Eddie can feel it happening from within you and continues to press his advantage, no longer retreating his hard working hand.  Instead he plunders your depths, further and faster than he’s ever done before.

“Need, uh-” licking over your lips, the begging starts in small syllables, “-you.  Need you, Eddie.”

He doesn’t have a chance to respond before you’re pulling him to you in another constrained kiss, tight, and tense, because that’s precisely what you’re experiencing at his hand.  Sucking his bottom lip between your teeth, you bite into the pillowy softness as Eddie firmly grinds his thumb against your clit, his nails scratching along your carnal tunnel.  Shattering, the world around you unravels in cosmic waves as your ecstasy expands beyond the narrow barriers of your body.

Eddie takes control of the lip lock, licking into the cavern of your mouth, the metallic taste of his blood mixing the smokey flavor that is your man.  He keeps his hand on the job until your vibrations slow, then, just as quickly as he started, Eddie smoothly extracts his pleasure giving fingers.  Through sleep heavy eyes you watch as he laps your juices from those same fingers, taking the extra time to suck his thumb clean before looking down at you with a proudly devilish grin.

You can’t help but stare because now Eddie reaches behind his head, removing his shirt in one motion, the tattoos that trail over his torso like a map to pleasure.  Raven wing hairs travel in a line down to the cut of his waist where his belt is undone, the rivet of his jeans open enough for you to see the checkerboard pattern of his boxers.  And a fresh desire for the man who loves you rolls over you.

Itchy now, your needy palms fan over his chest, wrapping under his arms until you’re cradling against him, your head tucked into his chest.  You can hear his heartbeat best like this and in your post-orgasmic state there’s something grounding in the steady rhythm of Eddie’s pulse that brings you back to the here and now.  He talks but you’re so close you only hear muffled mumbles so you tip your head up, “Hmm?”

“I said, I’m not done with you yet.”

Blinking, your drug fogged brain catching on, “Oh, you’re not?”

Shaking his head no, Eddie forces your head back far enough to expose your neck, tongue tracing along the tendon there before nipping at your earlobe, “Not even close, princess.  Get on your knees, baby.  Let me see that beautiful ass of yours.”

Goosebumps spread over you at the sweetly whispered command he issues.  Agreeing with a compliant nod, you go to stand up but Eddie pushes you toward the deep pile carpet on the floor, and you slip off the couch, boneless and floppy.  “Here-” tossing one of the loose cushions to you, Eddie watches you fold your hands under your cheek as if you were going to take a nap, all innocent and peaceful- but you’re far from innocent, aren’t you?

God, he fucking loves you.  He love fucking you, too.

Quickly shedding the rest of his clothes, his dick unbelievably hard because he is, without a doubt, the luckiest sonofabitch in Hawkins for sure, maybe Indiana, possibly the world.  And it’s because of you.

Already spaced out from the weed and first round of pleasure, your ass is framed perfectly by the haphazard tear in your tights, the thin netting still covering everywhere but the places only Eddie gets to touch you.  Lifted up like this, on your knees, he can see your puffy pussy lips, still glistening from your release but furiously flexing from a want to be filled.

He could hardly believe that you were his.  “Fuck, honey.  I wanna be gentle, I really do-” positioning himself behind you, the warmth of Eddie’s body wraps around you as one of his hands glides over your haunches, “-but you look so fucking good right now.”

Over your shoulder you catch his eye, a sly smile on your face, “Hammer me, Eddie.  Make me feel it.  I… I want you to.  I need you to.”

Your words fly straight to Eddie’s cock.  Already swollen and stiff, it hardens further in his hand, the rouge tinted head droolling pre-cum.  Urgency floods through him the moment you quietly beg him to ravage you, sexily swaying your hips in a silent call to action.  It’s too much to process, stalling Eddie’s brainwaves, causing him to choke out, “Wha?  What did you say?”

Widening your legs, your fingers finding the uneven edge of your ruined tights, rubbing over your still wet lips, “You heard me, Munson.  Don’t make me ask you again.”

Lewd.  Filthy.  Hot as fuck, you had Eddie swallowing hard, his throbbing rod pulsing in his fist.  Wanting to thrust into with everything he had, Eddie forces himself to breath, one hand finding its way to the round fullness of your bottom, the other gripping his steely length tight.  “Get yourself ready for me, baby.  Use your fingers, yea, just like that.  Fuck.  You’re a goddamned porn star, aren’t ya?”

Wordlessly you begin stroking between your legs, knowing that Eddie was watching made you more excited, the debauchery of it making it better.  There was a swish of cool air and then a sharp crack as Eddie brought his open palm down on your upturned ass cheek, the sting making you reel, surprise causing you to call out, “Shit, Eddie!”

His hand on the flat of your back held you still, soothing you now, “Shh, shh… you’re doing so good, so good for me, darlin’.  Keep going, ya?”

Settling again, continuing to pleasure yourself as he asked, the fingers of your free hand scrunch into the pillow under you, holding on for dear life.  Another smack, more heat than hurt, breaks over you, increasing the pleasurable pressure building in your belly.  Circling your clit, wishing it was Eddie’s finger or tongue, you throw your head back, pushing your hips into Eddie, pleading now, “Please, babe, please?”

Grinding out through gritted teeth, Eddie slaps your ass once more, “Already begging me, huh?  Don’t you dare finish.  I wanna feel you, pretty girl.  You hear me?”  Nodding in a pre-orgasmic haze, squeaking out the word yes over and over, it was enough for Eddie who was winding up tight enough to snap.  Shuddering, you feel the swollen tip of his cock slide between your slippery lips and flex your back, eager for more friction, only to be denied.  

Eddie, swatting your hands away from your core, rests his tip at your entrance, taking a minute to enjoy the scenery.  Notching into you so achingly slow, the stretch always taking you by surprise, you fisted the cushion beneath you as Eddie withdrew with a sultry snicker, “Jesus, you’re soaking, baby.  Feel so good.”

“No, you- you feel good, Eddie.  So big.  Too big.”

His pulling back makes you whine, but before you can say anything, he knocks the wind out of you by surging forward, burying himself balls deep in your velvet vice.  Shouting out his name, your chest flattens into the carpet as you buck your hips higher, meeting Eddie’s rapid thrusts.

For the first time all night, he goes quiet, concentrating on the loving way you grind your cushioned bottom into his pelvis, skin slapping deadened by the presence of your wrecked lingerie.  Eddie watches as your pink petals swallow him everytime he humps into you, the image etching itself in his mind.  He picks up speed, using your waistband to wrench you back onto his impaling member, over and over and over again.

It’s rough, rougher than ever before, but that’s why you like it so much.  Already your clingy cunt is clenching, trying and failing to keep Eddie locked inside of your wet heat, your bodies fusing together.  You told Eddie to use you; hammer into you in search of his own pleasure, and he does not disappoint.

He barely gives you a chance to bounce along his length before he fortifies his hold on you, his ringed hand on the ample flesh of your waist, the other knotting into your hair.  Rutting into you like a beast, the arch of your spine allows Eddie to access your deepest recesses as you chew on your bottom lip to keep from screaming his name into the night.  Your skin is on fire as the rug burns scars into your knees with every forward drive from the menace you’ve given yourself over to.

The rhythm spikes again.  Faster now, the repetitive smack, smack, smack of your soaked skin accepting his brutal use makes your body bloom.  Sinking into your hips, the muscles of your legs soften, changing the angle for Eddie and you hear an appreciative grunt as he claims another inch of you for himself.

A bubble of laughter rises through you and Eddie hears it, mocking, “Something funny, sweetheart?”

“No!  No!  Just-” he yanks back on your hair and your pussy pulses around him reflexively, “-you’re doing it, Eddie.”

“Giving this pretty pussy what it needs?  Fuck yea, I am.  Gonna be sore tomorrow, doll.  Can’t help it.”

Grinding back against him, your voice rises in pitch, the need to cum consuming you, “Good!  Fuck, Eddie!  Wanna feel it!  Don’t stop!  Don’t stop-'' But you don’t get to finish your sentence because the dam within you cracks open, the watery release too much, and it floods over Eddie as your world fuzzes over in blinding white lightning and static sound.

Your messy ending finishes Eddie, who buries himself to the hilt, holding you near enough to bruise as his release roars out of him, a satisfying sigh of your name on his tongue.  His fingers flex, their grip on you going slack, as Eddie curls over you protectively.  Turning your face to his, a kiss, sweet and soulful passes between you even though the angle is awkward and you are both fucked out entirely.

When he separates himself from you, it borders on painful.  You just fit around him so right, so well, it’s as if your body doesn’t want to let Eddie go.  Pressing his lips to your shoulder, Eddie hums in your ear, “Stay here, beautiful.  I’ll be right back.”

Hazy headed, you agree with sigh, closing your eyes in euphoric exhaustion.  Eddie, always so thoughtful and careful with you, swipes at your exposed skin with a warm washcloth, cleaning you up gently.  When he returns from the bathroom, loose boxers covering his butt, and sees that you haven’t shifted an inch, Eddie drops to his knees, brushing the hair from your face, “You alright baby?”

A satisfied smile fills your face, “Fuck yea, I just uh, my legs are jelly.”

Sitting now, Eddie pulls your head into his lap, combing through your locks, “Sorry about that, sweet girl.”

Searching his face, you titter, “I’m not.  You were incredible.”

You watch the pride blossom in him at your compliment, and stretch your aching arms before sitting up beside him.  Tracing a thumb over his bottom lip, you frown, “Sorry I bit you.”

Hooking his hands around your neck, nose to nose now, Eddie pokes at the broken skin with this tongue, “I’m not.  Now everyone will know I belong to you.”

Resting your head on Eddie’s chest, his arms holding you from behind, you sit in indigo shadows, the harsh street lamps casting moth filled shapes around the trailer.  His hands reach for your ruined tights, ripped and torn and stained, “I can replace these.  You’ll let me buy you new ones, right?”

Your hand cups his stubbly cheek, eyes serious, tone light, “Only if you promise to tear them off me.”

Snorting, Eddie strokes your side under the shirt that you never took off, “Only if you promise that I’m the only guy who gets to tear them off of you.”

And there’s a buried intention in his question, real worry, so you pull back, concern in your expression, “Eddie, honey, I’m yours.  If tonight didn’t prove that, then I don’t know what will-”

He looks away from you, focusing on the lightening sky outside his window, “There are guys who, ya know, they want you.  I see them.  See how they look at you when you aren’t paying attention and I guess-” swallowing thickly, Eddie catches your gaze, “-Shit… I guess I'm worried that you’ll figure it out.”

Panicking, you kneel up next to him, a comforting hand resting against his cheek, “Figure what out, baby?”

Releasing the breath he had been holding on to, Eddie’s brown eyes scan your own, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, “That uh… that you’re too, ya know, good for me.”

Still sore and stinging, you manage to straddle Eddie’s lap, the cotton of his boxers a welcome comfort against your overworked sex.  Raking your fingers through his hair, tugging at the nape of his neck, you force him to look you dead in the eye.  Speaking firmly but calmly, you were ready to make him hear you, “Edward Munson, that is enough of that kinda talk.  I wanna be your girl, and only your girl.

“Who else would punch a dude for me?  Or show me everyday that he loves me?”  Your voice wobbles, breaking at the declaration you’re making, “I don’t want anyone else.  Only you, babe.  Always.”

Cutting you off, Eddie’s mouth crashes into yours, stealing your breath.  A broad palm on your tush and one against your spine ensure that you can’t pull away from the love that he’s trying to share.  And you don’t fight it.  Why would you?  All you wanted was Eddie Munson and all he wanted was you.

Resting his chin on the crown of your head, dawn’s golden glow strengthening beyond the walls of his trailer, he whispers, “I am so fucking yours, ya know that?”

Curling into his warmth, nuzzling further into his lap, you sigh, filled with contentment, “Yea, I know, Eddie.  And you’re stuck with me.”

Grinning as you toy with the guitar pick around his neck, Eddie gives you a tiny peck at the very center of your forehead, “I am totally ok with that, sweetheart.  You’ll be mine and I’ll be yours.”

“Hell yea, baby.  All yours.”

                                              ---- Fin ----

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