Something about the way that MC flirting with Asmo is actually subtle but them flirting with Mammom might as well be "WOW that's CRAZY. I'll need mouth-to-mouth cpr to recover, HOW TERRIBLE. Mammon, come here." is so funny to me

Okay hear me out:

I rarely do proper headcanons with 0 canon foundation but

HEAR ME OUT:

MC & Mammon play rock paper scissors whenever they have to take care of something they really don't wanna do but one of them really needs to do it

Lucifer's guilt complex is making him spiral and someone needs to talk him down? Rock-Paper-Scissors

Satan blew up the right side of the house and someone needs to deal with that? Rock-Paper-Scissors

Someone needs to carry a message to Mephisto from Lucifer and they both know it's going to become a back-and-forth pissing contest? Rock-Paper-Scissors

BUT MC always wins. No matter what Mammon chooses or how random he makes his choice - they always win

Mammon still hasn't realised that by making it a game of chance, a bet, a gamble he has guaranteed that MC will always win because y'know the actual fucking personification of games of chance, bets, gambling has given them his favour

MC 100% knows what's happening

Asmo: Truth or Dare, MC?

MC: Truth.

Asmo: Tell us who's your most favourite out of all of us!

MC: ...Dare.

Satan: Alright, magically put a candy in the pocket of whoever you like most.

MC: Satan, even you, really?

Mammon: Ya can't back out now, human. Come on just do it.

Lucifer: *Already has his hand in his pocket* Just get it over with, MC, you know how they are.

Levi: Oh my god, I- I got it! Is it me?! *Levi said pulling it out*

Beel: I got one too!

Belphie: *sighs* Relax we all got it.

Diavolo: How wonderful, we are all MC's favourites!

Simeon: MC is being nice as always.

Barbatos: Indeed because any other answer would lead to a lot of violence at once.

Luke: Thank you, MC! This one is my favourite!

Solomon: *smirks in silence as he ate his candy*

Later that night during dinner,

Solomon: *whispers to MC* I noticed you gave me two, MC. Was it a mistake?

MC: *smirks* You really think I'd mess up such a easy spell, Solomon?

Solomon: *blushes* You're getting rather sly, MC.

MC: *winks* I learnt it from my precious master.

An amazing third piece from the same anonymous artist depicting Morgott and Rowa from my fic Of No Renown, this time a beautiful portrait of a future which may yet come to pass...

A bunny breeding his pup

Commissioned by @dumbdoggygirl

Bunny Hybrid x Puppy Hybrid!Reader

warnings: breeding, knotting, pregnancy sex, pheromones, lactation, cervix kiss

summary: Bunny hybrid Momo stands up to a wolf hybrid and walks you home. The two of you become friends then start dating, but when you go into heat you’re afraid he might not be able to keep up with your puppy hybrid stamina. Little did you know, the saying “breeding like rabbits” was very accurate…

Word count: 5k words

You have had trouble trusting people lately. Male hybrids only wanted one thing, and that was mating.

The thought was always in the back of your mind when you went out into town or wandered back home a bit too late at night. If you didn’t keep yourself safe, no one would.

This was all before you met him.

It had been a long day, and all you wanted was to pick up something sweet before going home to your little cottage in the woods. It was always a bit scary coming home from work, especially when the moon wasn’t able to guide your way due to the fluffy clouds blocking it.

You were planning on plopping down on your soft, warm bed and passing out as soon as you walked in your door… but fate had something else in mind.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

To the one beneath the Erdtree

————————————————————————————

Recommended reading sequence Portrait To the one beneath the Erdtree Link（1/3） Link（2/3） Link（3/3）

casts affection on that old man

Messmer 🐍✨

Guns N' Thugs (mafia bucky x reader)

gif sent in by @buckys-wintersoldier a little while ago and the fic itself was an idea coming from this ask between myself and @nana1000night back in 2022.

Summary: Bucky protects a woman from being harassed after he recognises the perpetrators as his enemy's goons.

WC: 1.2K

Warnings: harassment, catcalling, gunfire

Read on Ao3!

--

The streets of Brooklyn had an edge tonight. The autumn air was crisp, the bite of the wind sharp enough to sting your cheeks as you quickened your pace down the dimly lit sidewalk. The sound of distant laughter and blaring car horns echoed around you, but it was the footsteps behind you that held your attention.

They had been following you for a few blocks now, growing bolder with each step. You could hear the low murmurs, the crude comments thrown in your direction, and despite your best efforts to ignore them, your heart raced with every word.

Soft n’ Warm!

there was nothing ghost was more excited for than to be in his own bed after six rough months of deployment. he loved his job, he did, but there was nothing better than being able to sleep in his own bed with the ac blasting as opposed to sleeping in a sand bed in the desert because god forbid he took two extra minutes to take a piss and all the beds were taken. he couldn’t wait to shower by himself, to be able to walk around in his boxers without having to worry about a centipede or something crawl up his dick hole, to be in solitude. just the way he liked it. he was a simple man and enjoyed smile things, like smoking a cigarette on his porch in the dead of the night when the only thing he could hear were the crickets, or reading books while drinking vodka on his couch, or being able to get his dick wet.

when he pulled into the driveway, he could sense something was off with his quiet neighborhood. it was six in the morning and he could hear soft music buzzing from one of the houses, even while sat in his car. when he got out, he noticed the sleek black car in the driveway of the house next to him, which was new. the house had been empty for years. not because it was ugly or anything, but because it was a small neighborhood and most people preferred the louder, busier cities. his town was quiet, and with a population of only 1,000 people, it was rare anyone left or anyone new entered. though ghost wasn’t around much, he had interacted with a few of the other people in the town and they were relatively kind. kids smiled at him, women did little to hide their attraction to him, the usual. the houses were rather small, just simple one stories with one-door garages and intersecting/overlaid hip roofs that covered the garages. Small couples with one to two children were usually the ones who entered the town and didn’t share the secret of the silent town with anyone, which he didn’t mind in the slightest. like he said, he loved solitude.

he chose to mind his business, shutting his car door and grabbing the pack of cigarettes that sat in his pockets before standing on his porch and lighting in, looking out at the grassy field in front of him, looking at the blossoming dandelions. ghost despised mostly everything about summer, the beating sun, the bugs, but he hated the heat most. it didn’t matter what he wore, he just always seemed to be hot. it was six am and yet, it was at least seventy degrees, the only thing keeping him from going inside being the thick storm clouds that were hiding the sun from view, but it didn’t do much for the humidity. ghost could feel himself sweating under his military uniform he hadn’t yet taken off, but he so badly wanted to finish his cigarette, so he stayed outside.

and that’s when he saw you.

when he heard your front door open, he initially ignored it, not wanting to stare or come off as odd to the new neighbor who’d probably thought no one lived in his house due to his car never being there and the house being dark at all times of day. but when he caught a glimpse of pink, he just had to look.

and god, were you a sight for sore eyes.

he watched you intently as you stepped out of your doorway and trotted down the stairs of your porch, humming whatever song to yourself as you walked to your mailbox. his eyes widened as he saw the crimson tint on your chubby and well rounded cheeks, your button nose also being a soft pink. your hair was up and out of your face, revealing more of your delicate and almost angelic features while a pair of black framed glasses sat perfectly on your nose, only helping to accentuate your innocent, doe eyes. you were beautiful, gorgeous, every fucking compliment in the book. you looked young, at least in your early twenties, which almost made ghost feel bad for gawking at you like this. almost.

he didn’t miss the way you were dressed in an oversized an oversized soft pink hoodie that enveloped you, the cuffs of your sleeves down to your cuticles and revealing your fingers that were decorated with white acrylics. the white sweatpants you wore were also rather baggy, which kinda made him upset. call him a perv, but he wanted to see your body. your clothes didn’t give him the slightest idea of your body type and he wanted to pout at the fact, he refrained as you grabbed your mail pieces and slowly walked to your door while reading them before you looked up.

you noticed the car in the driveway of the house you could’ve sworn wasn’t lived in. sure, parcels and mail were still delivered there, but you’d just assumed that they’d moved out and their information hadn’t been changed in the system. you’d moved into the quaint and quiet town about three months ago, wanting to get away from the big city for one single reason. not because you hated it, no, in fact, you loved it. you loved the hustle and bustle of honking horns, the busy and filled streets, the people absolutely everywhere at all times. you were a social person, although it didn’t seem that way at first glance, you were. you enjoyed going out, hanging out with friends, and talking. you could talk and talk for hours about absolutely anything when you were comfortable enough, which was pretty much the only thing you liked about yourself. you were easy to talk to and people loved that. what they didn’t love, was your body.

you’d been a bigger girl since you were a child and growing up in new york didn’t help that at all. you were picked on for the simplest things. your wore short sleeves but a full shirt? ‘ew, why are your arms so fat?’. you wore long sleeves and a full shirt? ‘ew, i can see your rolls.’ you wore a baggy shirt? ‘hiding your body, you pig?’ but kids were mean, so you tried your best to not care. you thought when you got older and entered the big world, people wouldn’t care anymore.

but they did.

god forbid you wanted to wear a dress to a club with your thinner friends. you watched as males flocked to them like hungry birds and you were left to watch. you watched as men and women looked at you and laughed, their eyes saying the harsh words they normally didn’t say, their sneers filling your head with every negative thought you could possibly have in the moment. god forbid you wanted to go to a cafe by yourself. the constant ‘she doesn’t need that sandwich’ or ‘she should be at the gym’ always managed to ruin your appetite and you’d always leave before even getting to eat your food.

what caused your move was a double blind date your friend dragged you to. you had already started hiding in your house at that point, not wanting to deal with the harsh words people who didn’t even know you had to say, but despite that, you put your friend first and went. her date was thrilled, but yours? not so much. upon seeing you, his first words to his friend were ‘why do i always get the fat ones?’

you turned on your heel and left your friend on her dats, returning home and sobbing hysterically as you packed whatever you could fit into your car and left, not bothering to inform anyone. you had no destination, no idea where to go, but you didn’t care. you wanted to get as far away from the city as you could.

luckily, you managed to buy the house you had now and ever since then, it was rare you left the house and when you did, you didn’t dare wear anything that gave people the smallest glimpse of the body you despised. you hated the way your thighs would rub together when you walked, the way your arms would jiggle when you’d raise them, but what you hated most was your stomach. you hated the way it never failed to protrude through any shirt you wore, the way you could feel it folding into rolls whenever you sat down, the way it would cover your cunt and ruin any attempt you made at masturbating because it was always in your way. you despised the fat on your body and how it seemed to define who you were. you didn’t even want to try to meet new people because your body would always be your problem. it would always deter them. it didn’t matter how kind, how thoughtful, how respectful you were, it would always bother everyone.

the house next door that you thought was empty gave you some kind of peace, making you comfortable enough to sometimes wear shorts or tank tops when you got your mail or allow you to on your porch with a salad as you watched the sunset. but now that you knew it wasn’t, you could almost pout at the thought of not being able to do that anymore. and it didn’t help that the man who lived there was attractive. too attractive for you. he was tall—really tall with muscles you could see through his military uniform and eyes so deep and pretty you wanted to get lost in them, but knew better than that. a man who looked that good couldn’t ever and wouldn’t ever be attracted to you. he looked older, but that didn’t deter your attraction that you’d never, ever voice aloud.

you didn’t want to be rude, so you gave an awkward smile. “hi.”

god, your voice was so sweet, almost honey-like, and it didn’t help that you were blushing. well, it could’ve been because it was humid and you were dressed in thick hoodie and sweatpants, but simon wanted to believe it was because of him, so that’s what he would do.

“hi.” he replied back. “when’d you get here?”

you didn’t miss his british accent, his deep voice sending chills down your spine as you turned to him. “i could ask you the same thing.”

“been livin’ here for ten years, dollface.” he chuckled, quirking an eyebrow at you. “how ‘bout you?”

“three months. never seen you before.”

“been on deployment, love.”

you don’t miss the pet names he calls you and you don’t really know why. you didnt mind love because the man was obviously british and that was a common thing, but dollface confused you. it’s a pet name you haven’t heard before, probably because no man was ever attracted to you, so you chalked it up to him just being nice.

“really, where?” your curiosity gets the best of you.

“the desert. if you think it’s hot here, the sand there would feel like fire.” his chuckle sends a deep shiver down your spine as you laugh with him before he licks his lips and looks you up and down, and though his expression is unreadable, it still makes you aware of the pudgy body you’re hiding beneath, and so does his next comment. “speaking of the heat, what’s up with your clothes? ‘s like—“ he pulls out his phone. “eighty degrees.”

he doesn’t miss the way you blush in embarrassment and seem to subconsciously cover your abdomen with your hands, “my house is freezing. my ac is always on blast.”

though he feels like there’s more to it, he takes the answer. “i get it. the heat’s a cunt.”

you smile at him before looking down at your mail. “i should head in. nice to see someone lives here.” it’s nice, really, you just wished he had come back at a later time, when you managed to stop pushing off the gym and managed to lose more weight.

“nice meetin’ you, love.” he hums as you head inside and close the door, your pink curtains hiding you from view as ghost drapes his head and thanks god you hadn’t noticed his growing cock. everything about you seemed so.. sweet. your syrupy, honey laced voice, your crimson cheeks that resembled tomatoes when he’d asked you about your clothes, the way your doe eyes would squint as you smiled. the sound of your laugh echoed in his mind and he made it his mission to hear it to more, to talk to you more, to be more.

𐙚 ⋆˚.⋆

ghost was coming back from the grocery store a few days later, having run out for a frozen pizza, some cigarettes, and a smoothie because the older man had the largest sweet tooth. he entered his house and set the pizza in the oven before heading out to his porch to light a cigarette before seeing a soft pink light radiating from your porch. then he saw you, sat in a porch swing in a large crewneck and pajama pants that once again, hid your body from view. you were just looking at the setting sun while eating a salad that looked absolutely fucking disgusting to him. don’t get him wrong, he didn’t mind salads, but you were practically eating grass. it was a mess of shaved carrots, corn, lettuce, and kale with ranch on top. there was absolutely no way that was satisfying to you and he could see the way you picked at it as if you didn’t really want it. when you noticed him looking at you, your heart dropped upon seeing his stare. he looked as if he was going to say one of the many, many, self deprecating phrases you’d grown used to hearing, whether it be that you needed that salad or that it was good a pig like you was laying off the calories. you were unmoving as you watched his lips curl into a smile, preparing yourself for the worst.

“pink porch lights?”

you went from being scared to confused before remembering the led lightbulb you had bought and smiled. “yeah.” you nod. you were.. surprised he hadn’t made a comment, most men did. but just because he didn’t, it didn’t mean your guard was down. you set your salad aside, not wanting to eat until he went inside.

“it’s cute, love. fits you nice.” he hums. “is it your favorite color?”

“oh my god—yes.” you laugh, not being able to keep yourself from yapping. “love everything to do with it. it’s just so pretty and people say it’s basic—but, like, can you blame me?” as soon as the sentence fell from your lips, you felt stupid. it’s not like he cared or was interested.

but yet again, he surprised you.

“not at all. ‘s a cute color, no matter how basic.” he responds. “let me guess, you got about twenty pink plushies?”

you laugh, “actually it’s forty six.” you like that he’s not shaming you and for a second, you can feel your walls begin to crumble before you build them back up.

“you consider that a lot or a little?” ghost’s question is phrased that way on purpose, trying to figure out what you thought was too old through your amount of stuffed animals. he was forty six and he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t be disappointed if you said you thought forty six was a lot.

“a little. i have forty six that are pink and thirty-two that are other colors.” you chuckled, the sweet sound going right to ghost’s dick.

“that’s funny, i’m forty six.” he wants to laugh, but he’s too busy watching your reaction. wanting to see if you recoiled in disgust or gave him an odd look, but you didn’t. instead, you smiled. “what’s it like being old?” you teased.

“hey,” he feigns hurt as he leans over the banister to look at you. “ ‘m not old.”

“oh, you’re totally old!” you snicker.

“how old are you then?” ghost can’t bite back his smile as he watches you place your hands into your lap, your face almost glistening in the warm glow of the setting sun and the pale light coming from the rising moon. “twenty six.”

“maybe i am old.” he shakes his head and doesn’t miss the way you laugh. you’re so sweet, so perfect, so… pure.

god, he wants ruin you.

he looks over at your salad then back at you. “love, can i say something?”

your heat quickens again and you once again prepare for the worst.

“your salad. it looks like absolute shit. why not get a pizza or somethin’?” was he silently hoping you’d agree so he could “conveniently” say he had one on the oven right now and invite you in? absolutely.

meanwhile, the comment once again left you confused. you didn’t really understand it. you were used to people telling you to eat better, not.. worse. they often told you that you needed salads, not pizza. you didn’t really know how to respond and you couldn’t stop the soft “what?” that slipped past your lips.

“i said, why don’t you get a pizza or somethin’? veggies are good or whatever, but, c’mom, kale?” he repeats.

“are you serious?” you mumble, your expression unreadable. you weren’t mad, you were just..confused. you didn’t understand what he was saying or why he wasn’t acting like everyone else. his words, his kind words almost made you uncomfortable because they weren’t what you were used to.

ghost’s face dropped. “shit, ‘m sorry, love. it doesn’t matter what you eat—i mean—if you want a salad, that’s okay—i was just saying that—“ he cuts himself off, feeling rather stupid for even opening your mouth or commenting on your eating habits. he was a confident man, almost egotistical, but the sight of your face made his heart drop and his lips curl into a frown. he hadn’t meant to hurt you.

“no—no, it’s okay.” you say all too quickly, not liking the way a frown looked on his face. “it’s just—“ you trail off, debating on whether you should open up to the man. he hadn’t said anything but that didn’t mean he was like the others, but at the same time, it would be nice to finally get it out.

however, you couldn’t bring yourself to tear down your walls, so you shook your head and put on your best smile. “it’s nothing. you didn’t upset me.” you confirm, and although ghost doesn’t believe you, he doesn’t question it when you stand up and grab your salad. “i’m gonna head in. have a nice night..” you tail off, not having gotten his name yet.

“simon.” he speaks. “and you too..” he trails off and you smile before giving him your name and heading inside.

𐙚 ⋆˚.⋆

the next morning, you find a large bouquet of different colored tulips along with a strawberry smoothie and a box of chocolate chip cookies. you look down at your them before seeing the note tucked into the bouquet.

‘i’m sorry for commenting on your salad, love. i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or upset you. i hope this doesn’t make things weird between us and i hope you’re okay with strawberries and chocolate chip cookies. - simon.”

the smile that creeps up on your face is one that’s uncontrollable. your body heats up and it’s not because you’re wearing a baggy long sleeve and sweatpants in 80 degree weather. the gesture was kind. the kindest thing anyone had ever done for you and even said to you. though he hadn’t made you uncomfortable, his fear of doing so was.. nice. it had been years since someone was so afraid to upset you. people normally didn’t care how you felt and it showed in their cruel comments on your body. you picked up the bouquet and set them into a soft pink vase before looking at the smoothie and cookies. the guilt that came with eating was one that crippled you, terrified you, but as you sipped on the sugary drink and bit into the soft cookie, you allowed yourself to smile a bit.

when you had your fill, you stepped outside and approached his porch, your hand hesitantly going to knock on the door until it opened to reveal ghost in a black compression shirt with grey sweatpants. the shirt hugged his muscles tightly, showing off his large biceps and his toned abdomen that you were incredibly jealous of. His hair was messy and almost covered his eyes that widened when he saw you. “hey.” he hummed.

you opened your mouth to speak, but it was as if your brain had short circuited. you felt the pulse in your sweatpants as you cleared your throat. “hey.”

ghost didn’t miss the way you blushed and moistened your lips with your pink tongue. “thanks for the flowers and stuff.” your voice sounds like a whisper as you grumble under the man’s gaze, feeling small and not only because you were, but because no matter how badly you wanted him, you knew it wouldn’t happen because of your weight.

“no need to thank me, love. ‘m sorry for what i said about your salad.” he sighs.

“simon, really, it’s not your fault. it’s me.” you speak out, deciding that you won’t let him feel bad for your issues when he hasn’t done anything. he quirks an eyebrow that silently asks you to elaborate, and so you do.

you sigh before speaking. “look, i don’t have the best relationship with my body. people have said mean things and i—i dunno. what you said was probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“me telling you to eat a pizza rather than a salad is the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to you?” he blinks in disbelief before shaking his head. “no. that’s just not true.”

you chuckle a little as he stares down at you. “there is just no way that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said of you.”

“i know, i know. it’s funny.”

“funny?!” he gasps. “love, that is sad. not funny.”

you’re now confused. you’re so used to the negative comments that though they hurt you, you didn’t really see them as negative anymore. “what—“ but he doesn’t let you speak.

“no one’s ever told you how beautiful you are? how pretty? how—“

you cut him off, once again becoming aware of the pudgy stomach hiding beneath your oversized shirt. “no.” you say all too quickly and ghost is genuinely surprised. “that is just wrong, dollface.”

you chuckle, the sound ringing in ghost’s ears as he bites back the urge to reach out for you. you look back towards your house and sigh. “anyways, i just wanted to say thanks. so thanks.” smiling, you turn on your heel and walk away, which makes ghost pout. he wants to talk to you more, to hear you laugh, to see you smile, but all he does is smile back at you as you step into your house and close your door.

𐙚 ⋆˚.⋆

it doesn’t take long before the two of you become close. when you come home from work, he’s outside smoking a cigarette and he waits until you step back out for your normal salad-by-the-sunset dinner and you both talk. when he gets to know you, he can’t help but fall deeper into his obsession with you. you’re so.. talkative. and he loves it. it doesn’t matter what he brings up, you’ll find a way to make it sound like the most interesting thing you’ve heard in years. you’re so much more bubbly than you appear at first glance. you’re fully of smiles, laughs, giggles. he loves the way you get so passionate when talking about one of your interests, whether it be your new car decorations, tim burton movies, your love for music, he wanted to hear it all. there was nothing better than sitting outside with you for hours and talking about absolutely nothing and everything at the same time. he started to leave the curtains to his living room open, waiting for the pink porch light that signaled you were outside.

and you felt the same. of course, ghost was attractive and all, but he was so kind to you. he didn’t seem to get sick of you the way others had. for the first time in a long time, you felt seen, heard, and understood. of course, you still hid your body from him, knowing that no matter how many hours you spent awake talking, how he’d always rush out to his porch when you’d turn on the porch light, how he’d constantly let pet names ranging from angel to my dear slip past his laps, your body would be the thing to drive him away.

it’s six in the morning and you’re dressed in a white tank top that emphasizes the body you hate. your stomach protrudes and your chest is heavy, the flab of your arms visible even when they aren’t resting at your side. the shorts you wear do little to hide your fat thighs that have no gap between them, your flesh rubbing together as you look out of your curtains to look at the driveway to simon’s house. you knew better than to go out dressed like this when he’s home and when you don’t see his car in the driveway, you let out a gentle sigh of relief. it’s reached an all time high of a hundred degrees and the want to not overheat overwhelms the need to cover yourself up. when you know he’s not home, you open your front door and head to the mailbox, humming gently as you grab the letters and subconsciously look up at simon’s house, only to see him standing there with an agape mouth.

he wasn’t supposed to be home.

his car was gone, so why was he here?

you freeze under his gaze, your skin now feeling like a prison you so badly wanted to crawl out of and hide. you know he’s seen you and you can’t help the tears that brims your eyes as you rush inside and shut the door without even saying hi.

simon’s awestruck, but not because he’s disgusted. far from it actually.

he’s in love.

hes fucking sure of it.

he saw the way your plump stomach showed through the tank top that did little to hide just how large your chest was. your thighs were full and plush, jiggling with your every step when you’d so quickly rushed inside. you’re beautiful, so fucking beautiful. he’s almost certain that he’s going to faint, his head and mind fuzzy as he recalls the way your plump curves looked in the tight clothes he’d never seen before. when you’d hid your body from him, he hadn’t understood why and he still didn’t. there was simply no way you could be ashamed of curves as perfect as yours. every stretch mark that lined your chest, every bit of cellulite on your thighs, every dip in your body was perfect. the thought that you could possibly be embarrassed of a body like that doesn’t make any sense to him. he wasn’t a picky man, but he always preferred his women with more meat on their bones, mostly because of his terrible groping habit. he loved feeling their plump flesh in his large hands and he loves it even more when despite how big his hands are, he still can’t manage to grab all of it.

he wants to comfort you, but the older man simply goes inside, shuts his door, and wraps his fingers around his cock while he replays the image in his mind. he knows he should check on you because you were definitely crying when you’d run inside, but right now, all that matters to him is trying to ensure his cock wouldn’t stand at attention when he did go to your door. he wants to squeeze you, to feel your soft skin beneath his fingers and the thought of watching your ass recoil as he fucks into you is what makes him cum in a shamefully quick amount of time. when he’s cleaned himself up, he knocks on your door, but you don’t answer. you pretend to not hear him as you sob into your plushies, thinking you’d just ruined your friendship with the only man who was ever kind to you when in reality, he couldn’t be more obsessed with you.

when he connects the dots that the only reason you felt comfortable enough to collect your mail in that attire was because you thought he wasn’t home, he simply heads back inside. though he cannot wrap his head around why you’re embarrassed, he knows you are and he knows that for right now, you’re entirely too ashamed to face him. so he waits.

it takes an entire week for you to pull yourself together and grab the mail once more, the black hoodie that you’re wearing covers you entirely as well as your sweatpants in the way you’re comfortable with, but you’re still not comfortable. you’re still ashamed, and you’re still embarrassed which makes it so much worse when ghost comes out of his house and calls out to you. when he senses that you’re going to run inside, he steps off of his porch and moves to stand infront of you, the black wifebeater he’s wearing emphasizing his biceps as he looks at you. “wait.” he speaks, his voice gentle as you sigh.

“don’t.” you repeat to him. “don’t—just don’t.”

he quirks an eyebrow.

“dollface—“

“simon, i know what i am, okay? been hearing it my whole life and id rather not right now. i dont want to hear how i need a salad, how im fat, how absolutely disgusting my body is. ive heard it all and i really, really dont want to hear it from you.” you breathe out, trying your best not to cry.

he looks absolutely bewildered.

“people say that?”

“don’t be coy.” you fail at your attempt to not cry, tears slipping down your cheeks. “seriously, simon. i’m fat and i know that’s unattractive to absolutely everyone. i’m a pig, im well aware of it and i know that it’s completely ruined things—“

“love.”

“and i’m sorry that i didn’t tell you soon enough. i know you’d never be romantically interested in me—like, ever—but it was still wrong for me to mislead you like that.” you’re sobbing now, your lower lip trembling.

ghost is pissed.

absolutely fucking fuming for more reasons than one. not only had people made you think you were less, made you think that you weren’t anything short of absolutely perfect, but you thought your weight would upset him. people had gotten in your pretty little head and convinced you that you not revealing your weight to them at the start was misleading when it was truly your choice and when you made the choice to, they shamed you?

and you thought the body he so badly wanted in his arms deterred him?

he was a grown man, not a boy.

the fact that for your entire life, people had been commenting on your weight, on the love handles he wanted to grab, the stomach he wanted to mark and kiss all over, the tits he wanted to grab and suck on until you pushed him away, made him damn near murderous. you truly believed that your weight drove him away when it was what made him all the more attracted to you. you were so kind, so.. bubbly and cheery. everything about you had sucked him in from day one and the longer he heard you talk shit about yourself, the more upset he became. for the entire week you hid yourself away from him, he replayed that memory hour after hour, constantly having to jerk off to keep himself at bay. the pain that came from his constant need to touch himself at the mere thought of you turned into a pleasure that only increased his need for you.

“love.” he says louder, stopping your tear-induced rambles. he so badly wants to tell you how he’s called out your name while touching his cock, but he knows it’s not the time or place, so instead, he places a hand on your shoulder. “your weight doesn’t scare me.” he reassures. “you’re beautiful, dollface. that was the first thing i thought when i saw you. you are absolutely gorgeous and there is absolutely no need to hide from me.”

his reassurance only makes you sob harder. you couldn’t understand why he was being so kind to you. it was so much easier to hear people say mean things about you that coming to terms with him not being at all disgusted by you almost made you lightheaded. “simon—“

“i’m serious, angel. ‘m never going to judge you for your body nor do i think ‘s gross. you’re my friend and your weight does not and will not change that.” he speaks firmly but gently, trying to get his words to stick and he smiles when you nod and wipe your eyes. he looks at the parcel in your hands and smiles, pointing down at it. “that the new pink cutlery you were tellin’ me about?”

“oh my god, yes!”

and just like that, your crying stops and your stood going on and on about how the pink utensils would match perfectly with the white plates and bowls you’d ordered a few months ago. he lets you talk and talk and talk, just smiling like an absolute idiot, your voice a symphony he’d pay any amount of money to hear more of.

over the next month, you no longer hide from him. you have your late night porch talks while wearing tank tops and shorts, the salads still your choice of dinner, but your comparability with him seeing your body growing. each time you come out and he didn’t comment on your body makes your heart swell and despite other girls seeing it as the bare minimum, you adored it. it’d been so long since you were so comfortable and you have ghost for thank for it. of course, your feelings for him only grow but you know better than to act on them. you know he doesn’t mind your body as a friend, but you knew that if he’d ever seen you undressed, it would change his mind.

or so you thought.

𐙚 ⋆˚.⋆

“no, no, no!” you pout at your ac that’s finally given out. it’s early august and it’s been uncomfortably hot. your ac is what keeps you sane and now it wasn’t working. “please!” you beg the object that refuses to turn back on before flopping onto your couch as heat floods in. at first, you think you can withstand it but after twenty minutes, you’re knocking on ghost’s door.

he answers and smiles at you. “hey, love—“

he’s surprised when you push past him upon feeling the cold flow of air coming from his air conditioner and enter his house, letting out a satisfied groan. “my ac is busted and my new one isn’t coming in until tomorrow. sorry for intruding, but i’m hot.”

“yes you are.” he mumbles under his breath as he shuts his door. it’s the first time you’ve been in ghost’s house and you like how overall simplistic it is. it fits him. you sit on his couch and hum. he stares at the way your arms and collarbones are exposed in the short sleeved, off the shoulder shirt that’s a bit baggy, covering the stomach he adores so much. he can see the stretch marks that lead down to your covered chest and he curses himself for thinking such impure thoughts about such a pure person. the white shorts you’re wearing do little to cover the stretch marks and cellulite on your thighs and he has to bite his lip to keep from moaning out at the sight.

you are so fucking beautiful.

“hungry, love?” he asks after clearing his throat.

“a salad would be nice.”

“no.”

you look over at him with a raised eyebrow. “huh?”

he chuckles and opens his fridge, grabbing two water bottles. “i know how much you like your rabbit food, but in my house, you’re eating a meal that doesn’t consist of lettuce and carrots.”

“but—“

“been watching you eat salads all summer, angel. let’s get some real food in you, yeah?”

it’s a simple gesture, another reminder that ghost doesn’t care about your body and he couldn’t care less about your weight and it shouldn’t make your pussy throb the way it does.

you watch as he opens his fridge and grabs some fruits. “know you like eatin’ healthy, so i’ll make you a side of fruits, that okay?”

“that’s okay.” you nod, watching him slice the tops of your strawberries before he cuts them into little hearts and cuts your pineapple into triangles. he’s so.. careful, wanting each shape to be perfect. when he’s done, he tosses the heart shaped strawberries, star shaped pineapples, and kiwi cubes into the bowl. it’s cute that he remembered how cute you think shaped foods are despite telling him about it months ago and you smile as he hands you the bowl and goes back into the kitchen to make you a bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel. it’s still early morning so it’s fitting for the time and when he hands it to you, you don’t feel an ounce of guilt simply at the way it melts on your tongue. it puts your rabbit food, or salads, to absolute shame.

“thank you.”

“no need to thank me.” he sits beside you, some distance between you two so he can keep himself at bay and not touch you the way he wants to. you look so gorgeous when you’re truly enjoying your food and if seeing the way you happily lick your lips and smile at him means he’d have to make your every meal to keep you away from salads, that’s what he would do.

you spend a few hours just talking, like usual, before it gets late and you prepare to head back to your house, which ghost pouts at and stops you.

“where you goin’?” he frowns.

“ghost, i’ve gotta go back home.” you chuckle. “i’ve been here all day and i don’t wanna intrude more than i already have.”

“you’re not intruding.” he speaks as he stands and reaches out to hold your wrists. “your ac isn’t working and it’s 100 degrees outside, just stay the night.”

you raise an eyebrow. “you—you sure?”

“yeah.” he nods. “we can watch a movie and i can order whatever you like for dinner—“ he pauses. “as long as it’s not a salad.”

you laugh and agree, sitting back down as he hands you the remote. “here, you pick a movie and ‘m gonna go take a shower.”

he leaves and you settle on some random romcom, scrolling through your phone as you wait for him to shower, trying to distract your mind from imagining him under the shower head, water trickling down his perfectly sculpted body. before you know it, your hands are circling over your clothed clit as you cover your mouth, your eyes shut. you feel so dirty, so fucking dirty. ghost is none the wiser as you’re sat there, an orgasm building while you imagine the way he looks, the way his cock looks, how big you think he is.

when you hear footsteps, you stop, despite not being able to cum as ghost enters the room in just a towel, his hair wet and clinging to his face while the towel did little to hide his ever so perfect v-line. in those moments, you wished you’d lost all the weight you wanted so he’d actually be attracted to you, but you bite back your thoughts.

ghost, on the other hand, knew exactly what he was doing. and he knew exactly what you were doing. he couldn’t miss it. the imagine of you sat on his couch, your fingers over your shorts and circling your clit burnt into his brain. he wants to comment on it, but he knows that he shouldn’t. so he doesn’t.

you both settle on ordering tacos for dinner and when he’s done getting dressed, he sits beside you in his loose grey sweatpants and white wifebeater. his hair is still slightly wet, but it doesn’t bother him as he grabs a throw blanket and tosses it over the both of you as you press play on the movie, which is incredibly stupid. you spend the entire hour just laughing and making fun of the movie before it ends and your food arrives.

“you okay with horror, gorgeous?” he asks as he sits back down and hands you your tacos. you shrug gently. you weren’t the biggest horror fan because you were easily scared and often had to watch cartoons to ease your mind, but he was nice enough to let you stay the night so you wanted to repay him in any way you could. when he presses play, you notice how he hands you two extra tacos you don’t remember asking him to order. he doesn’t speak, he just sets them down on your plate and acts as if he hadn’t, his eyes on the tv in front of you two. the lights are off, per his insistence to make it ‘scarier’ and you can’t lie, it does increase your fear.

halfway through, you’re both done eating and the movie is reaching it’s climax (like you would be, very, very soon.)

you hadn’t noticed how close you’d scooted to simon until there’s a jump scare that makes you jolt, your hands reaching out to wrap themselves around his large biceps as you hide your face in his skin. when you realize what you’re done, you go to pull away but he shakes his head. “‘s okay, love.”

so you cling to him every single time something scares you and he couldn’t be more thrilled. he knew exactly what he was doing when he’d chosen this movie and he knew exactly how you’d both end up. as you hide your face behind his bicep, pulls it away and instead wraps it around you, pulling you closer.

you don’t mind it and for the first time, you can smell his cologne and the way your cunt throbs is sinful. he was your friend. you may have attracted to him but he wasn’t attracted to you.

when the movie ends, you insist on turning on barbie to calm your racing mind and he agrees. you get to talking and simon takes the chance to try to understand why you’re so insecure.

“love,” he speaks. “if you don’t mind me asking, why does your body bother you so much?”

it’s a sensitive topic and usually it would bother you, but you know simon and you’ve grown so close that you open up rather easily. “i dunno. it didn’t really bother me when i was a kid because i thought it would stop but it didn’t. guys are pretty mean when you’re not their ideal type.” you snort the last part bitterly. “but i can’t blame them. i’m not what anyone wants. i used to blame the guys but, i dunno, i guess i came to terms with me just being fat and i hid myself away to keep anyone from saying anything.”

“really?” he hums.

“yeah. it’s the reason i moved here but it had been happening long before that.” you sigh. “it’s not easy, but i got used to it. my weight drives everyone away. i’m surprised it hasn’t did the same for you.”

ghost was so tired. every single time you talked down on yourself he fought the urge to show you just how fucking gorgeous you were and instead hoped you’d realize it, but you hadn’t, and he knew he now needed to give you that extra push.

“love, do you think i’m not attracted to you?”

you laugh. loudly. fully thinking that he was joking before you see his serious expression. “oh, you’re being serious?” you hum. “of course you’re not, simon. i mean—look at you! you have so many abs and your biceps are huge. you’re fit. there’s absolutely no chance you could ever be attracted to me. i’m a pig.”

“hm.” he hums before hands grab your jaw and he brings his lips to yours, not giving you a single ounce of room to pull away. at first, you’re confused. you don’t understand why he’s kissing you but you quickly become thankful that he is because you think it’ll never happen again, so you lean into it, your lips moving with his as he lets out a moan into your lips. “so tired of hearin’ that shit.” he whispers out as he moves to kiss at your neck.

“what?”

“always sayin’ that you’re fat and ugly and whatever the fuck.” he continues on. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty. don’t know how you don’t see it.” his teeth are on your neck and he’s sucking on your skin as if he was afraid you’d pull away, but he soon did. “stand up.” he instructs, and so you do.

he placed his hands on the underside of your thighs, gesturing you to jump, but you shake your head. “simon, i’m too heavy—“

he groans in pure annoyance before he picks you up, his strong arms not buckling once under your weight as he carries you to his bedroom. “heavy my ass. you’re lighter than a feather, love.” his hands grab at your ass and he absolutely loves how it fails to grab all of the plush flesh.

it shouldn’t make your pussy as wet as it does but it’s so.. hot to see this man carrying you around when you’d worried that no one would ever be able to. he sets you onto his bed gently and sits besides you, his hands going to the end of your shirt before you stop him.

“simon. i—i can’t.” you whisper, your embarrassment overwhelming your need for him. “you won’t like it—“

he wants to tell you he will, that he knows he will, but he knows his words haven’t worked so far, so he instead rips your shirt into two as he mutters a promise of ‘i’ll buy you a new one’. you gasp as your plump stomach is exposed to him, the way the pudge turns into rolls because you’re sat and he can see every bit of your stretch marks. your bra was on, as were your shorts, but you feel so exposed, as if you’re naked. he’s silent, just staring at you and you’re about to start crying when he whispers one single thing.

“perfect.”

it falls from his lips so easily, as if he’s thought it to himself time and time again. he can’t keep himself at bay anymore and he lets every single dirty thought he’s had about you roam through his head as he gently pushes you down and his hands explore the extra fat on your body. “so fucking perfect.” he groans aloud, squeezing your skin. he buries his face in your tummy and kisses at the soft skin. “can’t believe you’ve hid this from me for so long, love. so pretty, my god.”

it’s as if the man is drunk on you. his words are slurred and his eyes are hazy as he babbles out a variety of compliments before looking up at you. “off. off.” he pouts as he moves his hands to your bra, sloppily pulling it off and throwing it somewhere in the room before marveling at your heavy tits, the way they fall out of your bra is downright fucking sinful and he can’t help but marvel at their size. they’re so big, so soft, and so fucking warm. he wastes no time sucking on your puffy pink nipples as you moan beneath him. you don’t understand why he’s so obsessed with your body, why he’s not deterred, why he’s not disgusted with you. it seems that he’s absolutely infatuated with your every roll, your every stretch mark, every bit of cellulite.

his hands are groping your tits and he doesn’t care that they don’t fit into them. you notice how he becomes more.. sloppy. how he’s not trying to stay clean as spit drips down your nipples and his chin and he’s rutting into absolutely nothing before he lets out a low moan. his body is shuddering and you can see his cock twitching in his sweats along with the wet patch that follows suit. he pushes his face into your soft tummy and whimpers into the skin, squirming beneath you in a way that makes your cunt wetter than it had ever been before.

“did you just—“ you stutter out when he pulls away and pants. “simon, did you just cum in your pants?”

“couldn’t help it. ‘m sorry.” he whimpers out before he sits up. “more. more. i need more of you. now.” he’s ravenous as he pulls your shorts and panties off before looking at your pussy. it’s so plump, so pretty. your clit is swollen and your arousal coats the entirety of your ever so perfect cunt. he eats you like a man starved, his tongue lapping up everything you give him without a care in the world. you can’t help it as you close your thighs around his head before pulling away and apologizing, which only makes him eat you with more fervor.

“put ‘em back.” he whispers.

“simon, i don’t—fuck!—i don’t wanna hurt you.”

so he takes it upon himself to grab your thighs and push them around his head, effectively trapping him between them as he eats your pussy like a madman. you’re moaning, your hands are in his hair and you’re tugging at it so hard you’re afraid you might be hurting him, but he doesn’t care. he doesn’t care at all. he wants to make your mind so fucking soupy and mushy that you can’t help but agree to his every compliment, which is why he draws three orgasms out of you. you’re sobbing, your cunt so sensitive that you’re sure you’re going to die until he finally pulls away. you think it’s finally over until he looks up at you. “sit on my face, c’mon love.” it’s a test. he wants to see if he’s dumbed you down enough to make you agree to put your full weight on him without worry that he’ll be disgusted or that you’ll hurt him. and when you mutter through broken sobs that you’ll crush him, he sighs.

“gettin’ real sick of this ‘i’ll crush you’ shit.” he grumbles as he lays on his back and pulls you up before sitting you down on his face, his arms holding you down tightly to keep you from even thinking of pulling away. you yelp out, only getting wetter at the fact that simon is doing absolutely fine despite your weight. you’re not suffocating him, you’re not hurting him. in fact, he’s relishing in the feel of your plump thighs around his face and fat cunt in his mouth.

“simon!” you cry out. “can’t—i can’t! ‘s too much.” it had been so long since you came this much and so hard. your insecurities often stopped you from touching yourself and the jump from rarely having an orgasm once a month to almost four in a single night was melting your mind to absolute mush.

“‘s never too much, baby. you can take it.” he purrs from beneath you, sucking on your clit before his tongue finds its way inside of your hole before he pulls back to moan into your cunt. “jus’ as warm as i thought it would be.”

his words are going in one ear and out the other, the sensitivity and your overstimulation driving you absolutely insane.

“touched myself to you so many times. had to jerk off every hour to keep myself sane.” he whispers and when he notices you’re too wrapped up in your head to respond, he smiles. “cum on my face, baby. i’ve got you.”

and so you do, for the fourth time, your pussy contacts on his tongue and you let out a strangled sob as he cleans you up and rubs small circles onto the sides of your chubby thighs. when he releases your thighs, you sit up a bit and he takes the opportunity to slide two fingers into your cunt while his other hand squeezes your tits. “my girls are so pretty. so plump and full.” he groped you shamelessly as he plunges his fingers in and out of you until you cum on his fingers, your arousal dripping down in a way that drives him mad as he brings them to his lips.

you’re about to tell him you can’t take much more when he looks up at you. “think you can take my cock?”

and your energy has been reinstated.

“on your knees, c’mon love.” he instructs helping you up and pushing an arch into your back as he looks at your ass that’s just so big and so fucking soft, he can’t help himself as he slaps it. he’s about to apologize when he hears the moan that leaves your mouth. “oh?” he quips as he spanks your ass once again. “you like that, love?”

you nod and normally he’d want words, but he’s so close to frying your brain that he doesn’t ask for them. can’t have his pretty, dumb baby thinking now, can he? no, that’d be horrible. she’d start spewing shit about how she wasn’t pretty enough and he would have to start alllllll over again.

when he slides into you, the moan that leaves his lips is loud and absolutely shameless. “my god, you’re so warm.” his hands grab your hips. “so fuckin’ soft.” and with that, he’s pulling you off and on his cock, your wetness coating his shaft as you moan loudly. youre squeezing him so tightly, as if you’re afraid he’d pull away and he loves it so much. when he slows to draw the encounter out, you whine and begin to move yourself, the feel of his cock inside you driving your movements. ghost watches in pure lust as your ass bounces whenever it collides with his lower abdomen and he moans. “fuck yourself back on my cock, baby. that’s it.”

and so you do.

at this point, you’re doing everything he tells you.

when you get tired and your movements slow, he takes over one again, leaning forward and using his bicep to almost choke you as he lifts your head from the sheets you’d been burying your head in. he loves feeling your tears drip onto his arms. he hates when you cry in general but when it’s because of how good you feel, he relishes in it. “let it out, love. sob for me.”

and you do, your cries a mix of moans, whimpers, and strangled sobs as simon moans into your ear and occasionally leans down to bite your neck. “so pretty. so fucking pretty.”

“si—mon.” his name claws its way up your throat as your eyes roll back. “close, close.” you can barely form sentences and simon coos at you. “i know, baby, but not yet. came so many times, you can wait a little.”

“‘s too much! can’t.” your hands are clawing the sheets and your legs are struggling to keep you upright.

“‘s okay, baby. ‘m right here. you’re okay, i’ve got you.” he speaks to you so sweetly, which doesn’t match the roughness of his thrusts. “such a dumb girl to think i couldn’t love a body like this. my silly, dumb, girl.”

“but—“

“shh. don’t think. just feel good, baby.” he hums as his hands move back to grab your hips and pull you back onto his cock. his tip is pressing against your cervix and you love the pain it brings, the way it turns to a pleasure you’re certain only he can bring.

then he pulls away.

“no—no, no, no.” you sob hysterically, needing more, needing to cum, needing him.

“‘m not stopping, baby. jus’ need you to lay on your back.” he whispers as you turn to face him. he kisses away your tears as his hands grab at your pudgy tummy. “see all this?” he looks down at your stomach as you nod. “i love it. never wanna hear you say you think i don’t ever again. love grabbing it, love lookin’ at it, love feelin’ it in my hands.” he chuckles as he grabs at your fat. “see how it doesn’t even fit into my hands? so fuckin’ sexy.”

when you smile and whisper out a soft “really?” he knows he’s finally done it. finally dumbed you down enough to fill your pretty little head with whatever he wanted. and so when he has you lay back and pushes you into a mating press, he gets real close to you, watching the way you pout as you cry and beg for more, but he doesn’t give it to you. he’s deliberately slow for many reasons that become apparent when he speaks. “tell me, love, who’s the prettiest girl in the world?”

“more.” you cry out, but he shakes his head. “not until you answer me, love.”

“me.” you mewl, and he speeds up, smiling down at you. “that’s right, baby. who’s absolutely fucking perfect?”

“me—fuck!”

“that’s it. never wanna hear you talk down on yourself. you’re so sexy, so beautiful. ‘m obsessed with you and your body and ‘m gonna pump you full of my cum so you don’t forget it.”

you moan lowly, your cunt squeezing him tightly and he knows you’re close, so he keeps it up. “silly girl was so sure i wouldn’t like her cause of her weight, as if.” he scoffs before he whimpers and lowers his head. “so much for me to grab, to taste, to love.”

“close.” you breathe out, but you notice how the pressure that builds up in your stomach is more.. intense. your cunt is clenching around him as if trying to stop him from moving, as if trying to lower the intensity of this knot building in you.

“not gonna let you cum until you tell me how pretty you are—nghh—“ he’s cut off by a moan and his thrusts grow sloppy and he’s whimpering out into the air.

“‘m pretty.” you say through broken sobs. “‘m so pretty. fucking perfect the way i am.” and you actually believe the words slipping from your lips. you truly feel pretty.

“yeah you are—fuck!” he cries out. “can’t hold on much longer. too perfect, too pretty.” he buries his face into your tits, licking and sucking at any skin you gave him access to. he’s obsessed with you. absolutely infatuated with you. and he’s gonna make sure you don’t forget it.

suddenly, you jolt and sit up, the scream that slipped from your lips echoing throughout the otherwise quiet house as you cum. hard. harder than you ever fucking have in your life. your mind goes blank and fuzzy and your vision goes hazy as you slump back and yell out different cries of his name. you don’t even realize you’re squirting on him until you re-open your eyes and see the mess you’re currently making. it’s splashing on your thighs, your tummy that he loves so much, the bed, and simon himself.

“oh my fucking god.” he whimpers into your ear. the way he’s rutting into you is shameful and he feels like a virgin who’s eager to get his fill. “fuck, fuck.” he’s whining, he’s whimpering, he’s an utter fucking mess and god, does he love it. “gonna cum in you, is that okay?” his words are rushed because he knows he can’t hold on any longer and though he said he was gonna fill you, he wants to make sure you’re okay with it, so when you nod, he whimpers out your name and he gives you one final thrust as he fills you to the brim, your walls squeezing him so tight you can feel his cum ooze around the spongy spot inside of you that makes you cum and squirt on his cock once again. he doesn’t dare pull out until he’s certain you’re done, not wanting it anywhere but all over him.

when he pulls himself out, he moans softly at the sight of his seed dripping out of you before he takes his thumb and pushes it back in, eliciting a low moan from you.

you’d never felt so beautiful in your fucking life.

“c’mere, gorgeous.” he whispers, capturing you in the softest of kisses as his thumbs wipe away your tears while you sniffle. when he pulls away he strokes your hair and smiles at you. “don’t even ask if this is a one time thing. ‘s not. gonna fuck you until you truly see how pretty you are.”

you aren’t disgusted with yourself for the first time in a long time and when he moves to lay behind you, spooning your body as his hand squeezes your tummy, you smile lazily and lean into the touch, not feeling a single ounce of shame for your weight and simon loves it. you were so soft and warm, how could he possibly not?

thinking about men in business suits. who's tired of their job that makes a more than a living. hardly getting a break from their day to day job and the overtime, it's worst and the only way that relieves them is coming to their chubby spouse who waits for them at home. waiting for their arrival who kisses them by the door and a warm meal waiting for them. their chubby spouse who looks so good in a apron tied around their plush waist and their round tummy poking out.

they can't help but to grab their fat wife while slowly untying the knot of their necktie and just hugs them from behind while peppering kisses all over their face and them your tired husband is burying his face to your neck and then, it's on the bedroom.

dinner forgotten and cold in the table while they feast on your fat cunt. warm and dripping in such wetness that they can't get enough. the taste of your fat pussy is better than the meals they have eaten. they do it as a thank you but mostly they want it. been craving it for the whole day and they can't wait to get their face buried to your pussy with your creamy thighs crushing them.

just been plagued with husband and his chubby wife.

Portrait of a Young Woman, Jean-Etienne Liotard 

Girl with a Pearl Earring, Johannes Vermeer 

#they look like theyve been having a chat about u and u just walked in

I’m on mobile, somebody edit them into this please

Y'all take too long

Same energy

No worries guys, they’re there too

@what-its-rio

Luke: *venting his anger and frustrations*

MC: *listens to him and nods while smiling*

Luke: Next time Mammon makes fun of me like that, I'm going to break his knees!

MC: No, no. Don't do that. That's bad.

Luke: ...

Luke: Yeah, you're right.

MC: I'll put a curse on him instead so you can use the word 'Stay'.

Luke: ...

Luke: *giggles* Really?

MC: *ruffles his hair* But you can only use it twice.

Luke: Okay!