#wheeze's blender
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I just remembered I didn’t post this here uhhh
Bobby Jr render. :3
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I was messing around in blender after a long time not using it so I made a meme.
#fluffytimearts#blender#tf2 sniper#sniper tf2#memes#wheeze--#I know it's bad xD#WHEEZ--#my art 2024#tf2 fandom#sniper
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Dipaolo goin thru it👊😔
#call of duty#modern warfare#call of duty modern warfare#oc: jax#Phillip graves#ship: high places#blender renders#this did make me wheeze tho#for a lot of things#little morbid joke on my part cause 4 is an unlucky number in Chinese#cause it sounds like die/dead#so shadow 4-4#shadow dead dead#:’)#jackie ramirez
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one small problem...
I dont know how to make them dab
LIKE... MOVE THEIR ARM BONES AROUND... WITH THE ROTATE TOOL...
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Obsessed with how WWDITS will be sillyass shenanigans right up until it's suddenly not. With no warning. Like hahaha jokes jokes HOLY SHIT NADJA IS ACTUALLY TERRIFYINGLY POWERFUL. Giggle smirk laugh WOW NANDOR AND GUILLERMO EMOTIONALLY CHARGED FACEOFF. Chuckle chortle wheeze LASZLO CARES SO MUCH ABOUT EVERYONE. Cackle cackle cackle COLIN ROBINSON IS SUCH A GOOD FRIEND AND HE LOVES HIS FAMILY.
Okay fine. Put my tender heart in a fucking blender I guess.
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The cake incident
A little story, I thought up involving me and my partners
Everyone is nonbinary so can apply to anyone!
cw for: mean nicknames, teasing and force-feeding
I whimper quietly feeling my belly slosh as I roll onto my fatty hip. my eyes flutter open as I hear my round belly gurgle there’s no way I could still be hungry, but I was. Even after the two whole pizzas, wings and sodas, you both forced down my gullet. I look over at you both as I slowly push my fat body off the bed. I creep as quietly as my wobbling body would allow towards the door. By the time I got down the stairs, I was huffing. “Oof…” I rest a hand on the bottom of my flabby belly as I brace myself up against the wall, trying to catch my breath. I wheeze as I finally finished the trek to the kitchen and grab a chair, plopping myself down in front of the fridge hearing it creak under my weight.
I reach into the fridge, trying to find something anything I felt empty I need to fill my belly. My chubby and lands on the cake we had made for a friend gathering the next day. I bite my lip I know I shouldn’t, but I needed it. “just a bite…” I look around for a knife or something close, but there was nothing and I felt too heavy to get up again so I can’t really lifted the cake up to my mouth and took a bite my face getting covered in creamy icing. I moan at the taste we had a really hard on ourselves. The flavor burst in my mouth and it made me want more so I took another bite this one bigger than the last.
I as I scarfed down, bite after bite I failed to notice someone was behind me, until I feel a large hand grip the bottom of my belly “ahh!” my face goes red as I look up, embarrassed, noticing the face of my partner E smirking down at me. “what do we have here? A disobedient piggy?” They squeeze the bottom of my belly enough to leave nail marks as they hiss in my ear. “what have I told you about getting up without permission?” they growl, grabbing my face with their other hand, making me look at them as I tried to turn away. “and what did I tell you about that cake?” they hold my chubby cheeks, making my lips pucker “that I wasn’t supposed to touch it” I whimper, feeling they’re hot breath on the tip of my nose “then why are you down here and covered in chocolate?” I tear up looking at them “b-because I got hungry…” without warning I feel a slap on my plump ass and hear the snicker of my other partner A.
I whine as it dawned on me what’s about to happen. I guess as A takes my hands and ties them behind my back. I watch them laying down in front of me pulling my night shirt down over my belly, fastening it with a belt that was so tired I could hardly breathe. I start whimper and squirm. As I hear start the blender filling it the cake he took from my hands. I start to drool A slaps my belly, making me moan and open my mouth, allowing them to slip a funnel into it. I look into their eyes seeing their sadistic pleasure. “oh, come on, sweetheart you know the rules you knew what was going to happen~” I squeal against the funnel weakly, trying to pull away despite how much I wanted it.
I feel E lean up against the back of the chair, letting me rest my head on their own growing belly. They carefully start to pour the cake shake down my throat. I could hear them hissing in my ear “drink it all down fatty” E purrs as they pour it at a steady pace. “come on honey I know you want to stretch that fat belly” A whispered in my ear as they robbed the top part of my belly, which was beginning to push up against the belt.
I grunt against the tube sickly sweet shake, dribbling onto my plump lips I was only a third of the way down, and I was already getting full. I look at them both with pleading eyes. The hem of my shirts started to roll revealing the bottom of my chubby belly. It was littered with stretch marks and hickeys. As soon as A saw it they were on their knees in front of me sucking fresh ones onto my over inflated gut. They both noticed it is starting to slow down.
E still leaned up against me gently pats the top of my belly “come on baby you can do it don’t you wanna be good? Just a little bit more and then will take you back to bed.” They carefully undo the belt, giving me some more room to breathe. I guess for air as I chug down the last bit of the shake. I hear them both giggle as E pulls out from between my lips “oh my goodness you did so good~” they kiss my chubby red cheek stroking my belly. I looked down, feeling A’s smile on the on bottom my fatty apron, as they untie me the rest of the way.
I burp loudly as they both work together to get me standing. My hands instantly shoot towards my belly as I whine quietly as they slowly help me waddle back upstairs to our bed. I lay down on my back huffing softly. They both lay on each side of me, effectively, trapping me in between them and start to rub my overfed belly, whispering praises into my ear. I slowly drift off to sleep smiling at the feeling of feeling my stomach churning as it tries to digest all of the calories that will make me even bigger.
#feedee feeder#feedee belly#feedee encouragement#feed me#fatty#feeding kink#fat piggy#feedist#dark feederism#fat rolls#feedism kink#feedee story#feederism writing#two feeders#poly feedee#feederism couple#funnel feeding#getting fatter
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(#feedist vignettes. Reblog if you're a feedee with ambitious goals who likes to be encouraged. CW: Mild mention of fatphobia / social stigma.)
When the outside world sees you, they don't see "self-discipline."
They see, or think they see, a person who's let themselves go. A person who can't control their impulses. A person who doesn't care about their body.
They don't see what you see -- and what we see. We know the truth.
We know that it took effort for you to get this fat. It took effort to research calorie counts and plan meals. Everyday gluttony comes easy, but pushing your limits the way you do? That takes effort. To stuff yourself until you're so full you feel like you're going to burst, not just on an occasional binge, but at every meal? That takes effort.
Every night before bed, even when you're so full you feel like you can't take another bite, you stand there at the blender, mixing up a shake. Every night you force yourself to drink every last drop. To fill yourself past capacity, to go beyond maintaining and continue to gain even as the numbers on the scale get higher and higher. It's work. It's effort. Who says you don't have self-discipline?
Just look at yourself. You've built the body you always dreamed of, calorie by calorie, over six hundred pounds of wheezing, wobbling, waddling fat. You've got a lot to be proud of.
Here in our world, here in your real world, that's self-discipline.
And knowing we can't take our eyes off you makes the results that much sweeter.
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Oh boy, my model and rig for Xeon are finally done! I've got a lot of info in this post, because dang it's been a journey haha.
Over the past month and a half I've built this lad, rigged him, put him into VRChat, made a 2D background to showcase him, and shot him out of a rocket in spite. Well, not really, but oh man sometimes I wish I could have. *wheeze*
The Xeon rig and model features a new rigging system, a better model, better organization, and a whole host of improvements over my last model of Medea. And dang, I'm excited to dive into em!
First up is the lil fun showcase. Using the new rigging system, I did lots of fun poses! And I'm super happy with how the toon shader looks too. For his model, I focused on refining the topology and making the weight painting better. Noodle arms also helps a ton too! These improvements really helped get it looking as not 3D as possible hahaha.
Keep reading for more of the behind the scenes stuff!
Yes, this is a 2D background! Way back in the day I used to make backgrounds to showcase my finished models... but I kind of strayed away from that. With Xeon though, I decided to get back into making backgrounds, and instead of doing it in Blender- I drew it!
This is the first ever one I've publicly published, and only one of 3 I've ever done. I first laid out the perspective in Blender and the lined/colored it in Clip Studio Paint. The model of Xeon was rendered in Blender on a separate layer, then I dropped him in the CSP background.
There's defintiely some wrong things with my 2D background, but for the first colored one I've done, I'm pretty happy with it. Its all about practice, and as I gain more experience I hope to better refine the Blender perspective to 2D pipeline.
This time for Xeon, I wanted to massively push my rigging skills. So with the help of Rigify, I've done just that. The rig for Xeon features a very advanced and customizable rigging system that allows me to pose him in so many different ways.
Oh and also, noodle arms and legs! That was a thing I've been meaning to add to my characters for so long, I just haven't known how to. But now with the new rig I can do just that!
As you can see below, the rig is also very user friendly. It's definitely complex, but it should be a lot more standard and a lot more user friendly.
I can't wait to add this rig to all my future models as well!
That's all I have for ya'lls today, I hope you all enjoy him!
#invader zim#invader zim oc#irken oc#blender#blender model#blender stuff#irken#irken empire#bluecolty's art#blue's character: xeon#toon shaded#invader zim blender#3d character#invader zim fanart#invader zim fandom#invader zim original character#iz oc
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What a Mess
There was nothing except stunned silence and the sound of droppings.
On the counter, on the floor, across the kitchen, beyond the lid to a blender, and most of all on you.
With eyes closed, you could still hear him.
“Matthew–” You began slowly.
Wheezing and the compression of couch leather began.
“Don’t you dare.”
“Well honey what can I say? I thought I was–”
“MATTHEW MICHAEL–!”
“The Avocado at law!” With a bark the man without fear doubled over, laughing until he had to take his red lenses off and wipe away his tears of mirth.
Until a glob of guacamole not even he could have stopped landed splat on the back of his head.
#matt murdock#fanfic#mine#avocadoletters#fanfiction#blurb#daredevil#cute#happy#wholesome#avocado#matt murdock x reader
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Dew makes a "milk" shake (it's cum)
i hate you people (affectionate)
"Oh fuck, Dew," Swiss gasps, shoulders hunched, hands buried in Dew's hair, "unholy shit."
He hadn't expected this when Dewdrop had knelt, slapped away his book and demanded to make him cum. Dew is working him fast and hard, twisting his wrist and bobbing his head. Swiss chokes on his tongue as Dew sucks harshly at the tip. His head is spinning, his stomach clenching. Dew hasn't been at this long enough for Swiss to be this close.
"Fuck, you- you - Lucifer, Dew, you're gonna make me cum." It's spoken between gritted teeth, Swiss melting into his chair. His book falls to the floor with a loud thud, and it serves as a reminder that they're in the common room. And in full view of the doorway. In the middle of the day. The level of exposure sends a frission of excitement down his spine and he throbs against Dew's skilled tongue. Dew pulls off with a wet pop, stroking fast.
"Tell me when," he says, seeming distracted. Swiss doesn't have time to think about how hot that is before Dew's mouth is back on him, licking at the slit. Swiss pants and gasps at every swipe of his tongue over the sensitive spot on the underside. In no time at all pressure coils in his gut.
"Shit, shit, fuck" he wheezes, "cumming, Dew fuck-"
Dew pulls back immediately and changes his angle, aiming Swiss's dick downward as he shoots in thick spurts. He chokes out a moan, swearing under his breath. Everything is gray around the edges. Dew stands, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
"Thanks," he says conversationally, holding up the glass in his hand. "Should be enough." He heads to the kitchen and Swiss watches him dumbly. Dew flits about the kitchen as Swiss's cock softens, leaving a wet spot on his thigh.
"What?" Swiss feels like he's missed something. Dew gathers the blender and sets it on the counter before padding to the fridge, rummaging. "What are you doing?" He tucks himself back into his pants as Dew returns to the counter with vanilla ice cream and milk. He grabs a banana from the fruit bowl and Swiss raises an eyebrow.
"Making a snack," Dew informs him, adding things to the blender - a few scoops of ice cream, a splash of milk, the broken up banana, Swiss's cum-
Wait.
"Dew, what the fuck?" Swiss sputters, eyes wide. Dew pays him no mind, turning the blender on and putting away his ingredients. He gathers a big glass, a spoon and a straw, peering into the blender carafe after a minute.
"You heard me," he says, way too casual for what Swiss has just witnessed. Dew nods and turns the blender off, pouring its creamy contents into his glass. He shakes the can of whipped cream he'd grabbed on the way back, spraying a huge mound of it on top of his creation. He licks a splash of cream from his finger before shoving the spoon and straw into the treat, strutting over to Swiss.
"I don't -" Dew cuts him off by shoving the shake in his face, wiggling it.
"Try it," Dew says, sitting heavy in Swiss's lap. "Before you judge me."
Swiss doesn't know what to do, head still fuzzy. Not like he hasn't eaten cum, his own included, but something about this feels...different.
"It's good, I promise," Dew insists, holding a spoonful to his lips. Swiss opens his mouth in spite of himself, and Dew feeds it to him with crinkled eyes, kicking his little feet with joy. Swiss gives himself a moment to taste it, waiting for the inevitable cringe.
It never happens. It tastes...good. Really good. Sweet and fresh, lots of banana, a little hit of salty depth at the end. Almost like salted caramel. He licks the remnants off his lips with a surprised huh.
"It's a banana cream pie!" Dew says with childlike enthusiasm.
Swiss laughs until he cries.
#miasma's work#the band ghost ficlet#dewdrop ghoul#swiss ghoul#dew/swiss#what the fuck lmfao#the is the most unhinged one i got i think
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Spotify Wrapped Challenge
29: Who By Fire – Pj Harvey, Tim Phillips
Reader x Jack Daniels
NSFW 18+ minors DNI. Warnings: canon-divergence, grief, angst with a happy ending, fluff, unprotected PiV, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, teasing, emotional baggage. Let me know if I missed anything!
29: Who By Fire – Pj Harvey, Tim Phillips
And who by fire, who by water
Who in the sunshine, who in the night time
Who by high ordeal, who by common trial
Who in your merry merry month of may
Who by very slow decay
And who shall I say is calling?
- Thank you @noxturnalpascal and @beefrobeefcal for betaing this!
[AO3]
Wordcount: 3.5k oops
You slump down into the pleather booth with a sigh, your bones ache. You just want to go home, forget about this wild goose chase, but there’s something boring into the back of your brain about it all. A nagging, errant anxiety worrying away at your mind.
You’ve been on Jack’s tail for months, unsatisfied by the account that he simply fell into an automatic meat grinder and met his fate. You’d heard it first hand and read every word of the after-action report, but you’re still not convinced.
First it was a sighting of a handsome man carrying an electrified whip, bloodied and broken at an ER in Dallas, then it was the CCTV footage at an ATM in Swindon, UK. You’d started to connect the dots; Jack Daniels is alive. Eggsy and Hart are convinced, devout even, that they saw him turn to mush in a blender. But there’s something in the back of your mind that gives you pause.
It’s all too convenient.
And that’s why you’re here, in a dive bar in Michigan, following one last lead before you finally throw in the towel. Your phone vibrates and you snatch it from your pocket, your stomach drops as you see the message on the screen.
Statesman HQ: Agent Whiskey, where are you?
You turn your phone off, ignoring your organisation’s check-in. This mission is off books. Personal. You nurse your scotch and wait. But it’s been two years, and the trail is running cold. It’s been weeks since the last tip, months since the last blurry photo sighting. But this was your last-ditch effort, intel from an old CI of yours.
Maybe I should just give up.
You think to yourself as you glance around the bar, your eyes flicking from patron to patron, desperately trying to find a ghost amongst the living.
“Y’always were a stubborn son of a bitch,” Jack’s voice slices through your mind like a blade cutting through paper. Loud, distracting, palpable.
You look up to see a grizzled, broken echo of the man you once loved. A patchy beard, unkept and scruffy peppering his jaw. His eyes are watery, broken as he looks down at you with despair.
“Jack?”
“In the flesh,” he wheezes as he settles down on the other side of the booth, his denim shirt and trouser combo stirring nostalgic desire in your gut. He always did manage to subvert expectations.
You sit there, a broiling tempest of emotions burning through you as you try to figure out what to say to him. You want to throw yourself at him, lose yourself in his familiar, strong arms. You want him to devour you like nothing happened.
But it had happened. So much has changed since you last laid eyes on him. You want to hate him, turn him in and let him suffer for his indiscretions. You want to claw at his face, gouge out his eyes and spit on his remains.
But you can’t.
“I’ve missed you,” you wheeze as you study his broken façade. You want to take him back to your motel, look after him. Anything to confirm this isn’t some sick joke.
“Not as much as I’ve missed you.”
The words hang in the air like a promise, a challenge.
“Bullshit, if you’d really missed me, you’d have let me know, given me something to tell me that you were alive!” you spit with a venom arcing from your tongue. Your eyes shedding tears unbidden as you try and reconcile almost two years of abandonment.
“You know why I couldn’t do that Sugar,” he sighs as he leans forward to take your trembling hands in his. Your gut twists at the nickname, something you’d lost along with him. Your sweetness, your joy.
You flinch at his touch, almost pulling away, almost keeping your dignity. But you don’t. You let him thread his thick fingers through your own. You let yourself feel at home in his touch. At home under his skin.
“Jack, we have to talk about it,” you breathe as you smooth your thumbs over the heel of his palms his well worn callouses are non-existent now. Yet, despite feeling so very different, he’s the same Jack, the same man you’ve mourned for two whole years.
“If we do, it needs to be somewhere private, gotta prove you’re not wearing a wire, Sugar.”
You frown at him, pulling your hands from his, anger slighting your ego as you begin to unbutton your shirt, willing to strip bare here to prove to him you weren’t. Your fingers tremble as you worry at the buttons, your gaze downturned as you concentrate.
“Sugar,” Jack warns as he leans over the table, grasping your wrists gently, pulling them away from your blouse, “Let’s take this back to my place.”
You look back up into those soft, chocolate brown eyes that glisten with desire after so long apart. You watch as his lips twist up into a smirk, the grin of a predator cornering his prey.
~*~
You watch Jack disappear inside his apartment building, waiting for the agreed amount of time before following him inside.
Your stomach flips as you watch the minutes tick by on your car stereo. After two long years, waiting five minutes should be simple, easy even. But your body vibrates with unease, it thrums with nervous energy as the seconds slip by slower than you could ever imagine possible. You tap your fingers on the top of the steering wheel, trying to disperse some of the kinetic energy tumbling through you on a loop as the time crawls by.
Four minutes fifty seconds go by, and you see a twitch of a curtain on the second floor, you know it’s him. You’ve waited long enough.
You dash across the empty street and bound straight up to the top step. The moment your foot connects with the concrete, you hear the sound of Jack buzzing you in before you’ve even lifted your arm to press the call button.
Your heart is racing as you ascend the stairs two at a time, heading for apartment 2B. You barely have time to register the clean, almost modern refit of the apartment building, your mind is focused on one thing and one thing alone.
Jack.
You reach the apartment door and knock firmly, bouncing from one foot to the other as you wait for Jack to answer. But you’re met with silence as you pound the door with your fist. Your heart sinks at the lack of response and your mind races as you fear the worst.
He’s gone. Again.
But before you could manifest your anger into anything physical, you hear it.
“Ain’t no grave, can hold my body down,” the sound of singing you’d thought long lost floats through the door, and you can’t help but laugh at his choice of song.
You push open the door, locking it behind you as you take in the well lived-in apartment. Two brown leather sofas angled just right at a TV hung on the wall. A coffee table strewn with ranching magazines and gun catalogs. A small kitchen-diner at the far end of the open-plan room.
You pause in your analytical scan of the room as you see the door at the far end ajar. You move on instinct, no longer thinking about danger nor consequences. You can only think about him, the man singing a dirge to himself in the shower. Waiting for you.
You push into the bedroom and smile at the open door to the ensuite bathroom, steam billowing into the dark room from the illuminated doorway.
“I see a single angel, and she’s coming after me.”
You shake your head at the modified lyrics as you shed your clothes in a pile at the end of the bed. You’re supposed to bring him in, that was your plan, you’re supposed to cuff him and take him back to HQ to prove everyone wrong.
But you didn’t really expect him to be alive, not really. You’ve been chasing ghosts just so you don’t have to admit to the desperate truth that he was really gone.
You lean against the doorframe and let yourself admire the view. On the sink sits a pile of prosthetics, skin and hair that you now realise formed the beard he was sporting in the bar. Then your eyes fall to the steamed-up shower door.
The glass is fogged up, leaving a view of his silhouette as he stands turned away from you. But you can see him without seeing him, you know every curve of muscle in his back, the swell of his ass, the scars and freckles that pepper his tan skin.
“You gonna stay out there starin’ like a pervert,” Jack calls through the barrier, “Or are ya gonna hop in and join me?”
You answer by sliding the warm glass door open, stepping in behind him as you trap yourself inside the modest steamy space. The door seals with a thud and Jack looks over his shoulder at you. Water cascades down the planes of his muscled form and it’s like seeing him anew, for the first time all over again.
You gasp despite yourself as you take in the strong curve of his nose. Then, the plush, pouty lips framed with his thick, dark moustache. His eyes glimmer as creases form at the corners, his lips curving up into a rapturous smile.
“Hey there sugar, you miss me?”
You grab Jack by the waist and spin him around, hands sliding up his slick, muscular body to tangle in the soft curls at the nape of his neck. You pull him down, lips crashing up into his as you press yourself against him.
It’s like a dam bursts, every pent-up moment of self-imposed isolation exploding into a rush of tears, arousal, and desperate moans. Your tongues clash and you whimper as he cups your cheeks with his broad hands. He nips on your bottom lip as he comes up for air, his strong nose bumping against yours as water flows between you.
His strong hands paw at your body, fingertips trailing over the swell of your breasts, tweaking at your nipples before shifting lower. His thick fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he rolls his painfully hard erection against your stomach.
“Didn’t let me finish my song,” he breathes as he presses his forehead to yours, panting wildly as water streams down both your faces.
“You can sing later cowboy, dry off and meet me in bed.”
You growl as you grasp the base of his cock, giving him a gentle, barely-there tug before slipping back out of the shower. You hear him snarl behind you and you smirk to yourself as you grab a towel to dry yourself off as you practically dive onto the bed.
There’s a nagging in the back of your mind, telling you to stop before you get hurt.
But the voice is getting quieter and quieter with each passing moment. You finally have Jack back, your Jack. And for the first time in two years, you don’t feel alone, empty, broken. It’s like breaking through the surface of a lake you’ve been slowly drowning in, and breathing fresh, nourishing air into your deprived lungs.
The shadow in the doorway draws your attention and you gasp at the sight of Jack, leaning against the frame. His body is bathed in shadow but you can feel his eyes on you, predatory as his gaze roves over you.
“Jack, please.”
You hold your arms out as you spread your legs for him, no doubt putting on a show with how wet you are.
“Missed you, Sugar,” he says as he saunters over to the end of the bed, kneeling down on the edge as you feel his thick fingers ghost along your calves, “Should’a known you’d be the one to find me.”
“Just knew you were alive, couldn’t give up on you.”
“Stubborn as ever,” he chuckles as you feel his fingers lock around your ankles, you yelp as he yanks you down the bed. He spreads your legs wide as he settles his head between your thighs, moustache tickling against the sensitive skin there.
“Jack, fuck need your cock, please!” you whine, you’re already wet, you just want him inside you, fucking you until neither of you have anything left to give.
“No way,” he purrs as he nips at the soft flesh of your inner thigh, hands hooking under your knees to manoeuvre your legs over his shoulders, “Haven’t tasted you in too long Sugar, gotta remind myself how sweet you are.”
You prepare a witty retort, but it dies in your throat as he mouths at your clit. His tongue darts forward, teasing your swollen bud as he groans against your folds. He wastes no time, bringing a finger to your core, pressing slowly into you as he flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit.
“Taste better than I remember,” he mumbles as he devours you, “Come for me Sugar and I’ll let you have my dick.”
You whine in frustration as you lock your fingers in his hair, pulling him in closer as he adds a second finger to your desperate cunt.
“Fuck, Jack. Missed you so much,” you wail as he curls his fingers up inside you, pressing into your g-spot with ease. You arch up off the bed as he licks broad, wet strokes over your clit, pressuring it just right as you feel your core tense. Pleasure burns under your skin as your spine tightens at the base.
“Missed you too,” he breathes as he looks up at you, admiring the way your face contorts in pleasure as you reach your peak, “Now come for me, show me how much you missed me.”
You come undone at his command, clenching hard around the fingers fucking into you at speed. Jack rolls his tongue over your clit again and again as you see stars behind your eyelids. You cry his name again and again as you come hard, pulling roughly at his scalp to bring him impossibly close as you grind your cunt up into his eager mouth. His moustache scrapes against your swollen folds and you whimper as overstimulation rocks through you.
“Such a good girl,” he groans as he places one last sloppy kiss to your clit before easing his fingers out of you. You whine at the lack of sensation, “You doin’ ok Sugar?”
“More than ok, c’mere,” you cup Jack’s cheeks with your hands and rub your thumbs over his cheekbones as you tug gently to guide him up to you.
He crawls up the bed, pushing your thighs further apart as he settles his pelvis between them. He leans down, the heft of his cock pressed between your bodies as he leans in. He rests his forearms either side of your head.
“I love you Sugar,” he croons as he places a soft kiss to your lips, barely there, tender, “Never stopped loving you.”
You kiss him back, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth as you savour the way his moustache tickles your skin. You commit to memory the way his strong body weighs on you, pinning you to the bed as you try – and fail – to arch up into his body. The corner of his mouth quirks up and his dick twitches as he feels you move under him.
“Love you too Jack, always have, always will.”
“You ready for me?” he asks with a final nudge of his nose against yours as he shifts backwards, lining his tip against your core. You feel his silken foreskin glide through your folds as he nudges your oversensitive clit.
“Please, Jack. Please.”
You cry out as he presses slowly into you. Every ridge and vein pressing against your fluttering walls as you adjust around his girth. You wrap your ankles around his waist as you pull him down by the shoulders. Your lips crash together as you press your tongue into his mouth, desperate to feel him, all of him, as he bottoms out inside you.
You both gasp at the sensation as you come up for air, foreheads pressed together as you pant into the air together breath intermingling as you smile up at him. He grins back down at you as he strokes the side of your face with one hand, the other palming your breast.
“So fucking beautiful Sugar.”
“Right back at you cowboy.”
You roll your hips up as you drop one hand to your clit, the other planted on Jack’s shoulder, anchoring you to him.
“Fuck me Jack, make me scream.”
Jack growls, the vibration coming from deep in his chest as he pulls almost all the way out. He snaps back into you without warning as he fucks you hard and fast. You rub desperately at your clit as every snap of his hips sends shockwaves through your body.
“Always so fucking good for me,” Jack pants as he fucks down into you frantically, rolling his hips at the end of every thrust. You whine at every press of his cock against your g-spot, at every circle of your fingertip on your swollen bud.
It’s like no time has been lost between you, both of you working in perfect rhythm as you use each other to chase your high. You cant your hips up to meet his thrusts, pushing him deeper, pressing him harder inside you.
Jack grunts above you as he feels your cunt spasm around him, his own release painfully close as you feel your second orgasm cresting with him. He snarls your name over and over with every staggering thrust as his rhythm gets sloppy.
“Come inside me Jack, fill me up,” you whine as you feel the hot burn in your core, pleasure streaking through you as you cry out, coming hard around his cock. Jack hisses as he feels your pussy clamping around him as he tries to hold on a little longer.
“Such a good girl for me, fuck!”
Jack buries himself in your wet heat, pressed to the hilt as he comes hard. You feel him pulse inside you as he paints your walls with his spend. Rope after rope fills you up as he falls forwards, catching himself on his forearms just in time to stop your heads clashing together.
You lie there for some time, shuddering through aftershocks together as you trade sloppy kisses. You come up for air every now and again as you giggle together, elated energy buzzing between you as you both come down.
“Need to clean up,” You whisper into the dark room as you trace swirls and patterns against Jack’s shoulder with your fingertips.
He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your nose before pulling out, immediately your combined spend drips from your cunt and you shiver at the sensation. Jack takes you by the hand and you fall into a familiar routine. Both of you pee, both of you clean up with a hot towel. Then Jack goes to get you both a bottle of water and some snacks.
“You ok there, Sugar?”
He asks as you feel the bed dip under his weight, your eyes fluttering open to look up into his concerned face.
“Better than ok, baby,” you sigh as you take the water bottle from his hand, snuggling into his side once you take a big gulp before setting the bottle on the nightstand.
“Good, good.”
You lie there together, unspeaking as you allow yourself to forget the anguish of the last two years. You forget about the pain and the hardship. You remember the good, the love, the promise that you once shared.
You begin to drift off but something in your chest aches for validation, for security.
“Don’t leave me again.”
You whisper into his chest as you cling to him, desperation getting the better of you.
“This is my house, Sugar.”
“You know what I mean,” you grumble, and he turns over to drape his strong thigh over your hips, pulling you against him with a strong hand cradling the back of your head. He cages you in fully, wrapping you in his embrace.
“I do, and I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”
You grunt your assent to his promise and allow yourself to smile, unburdened for the first time in a very long time.
“Love you, Jack.”
“Love you too,” he whispers your name into your hair and the two of you sleep soundly for the first time since you were parted two years ago.
Fuck the consequences, you would leave everything behind for him. And you know that he will too.
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one last dance, before the show ends.
#toontown#toontown corporate clash#ttcc#duck shuffler#dave brubot#major player#buck ruffler#wow thats a lot of tags sorry about that#brubuck#Wheeze's blender
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See, this is why ya'll shouldn't trust me with blender, tf2, and lighting because I slip and make shit like this on rare occasions--
#fluffytimearts#artists on tumblr#my artwork#my art#my art 2023#wheeze--#tf2 medic#tf2 sfm#medic tf2#blender#MY BABY BOY--#suggestive
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A moment to ourselves
#modern warfare#call of duty#sebastian krueger#hans blaustein#my shit#blender renders#i feel like the pose could be a but better but i started this at 1am JSHFJEHC#i didnt have my lights fully set up and i just kept wheezing because theyre just two blobs on my screen#but the way one of the lights highlights kruegers lips#<:'•)#let me live in my fantasy where theyre both alive and happy and they worked out their differences#theyd be all 🥺🥺 after one or two near death experiences
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How about some sad sam and tara hcs?
anon you have NO idea how much i love putting them on the pain blender. i love them though. they're just so much angst material.
tara had a bad episode when their father left. a panic attack mixed with her asthma taking her breath away, lungs inflammated, throat closing. sam and their mom are having a screaming match as their father walks out the door, and tara's so scared; sam is quick to rush to her side, searching for her emergency inhaler as tara is clawing at her throat, wheezing, struggling to breathe. their mom is simply watching, eyes distant, unmoving.
when they were little and tara had to go to the hospital, sam was the only one that'd stay with her in the hospital room. imagine how it must've been when they started to grow apart; at first, sam would still go, no matter her state. after a while, though, she just wouldn't appear.
sam used to pick her up every day so they would walk home from school together, right? imagine how tara must've felt the first time sam didn't come. she waited for hours on her school's sidewalk. waited until the sun set. when the faculty were exiting the building after a late teacher's meeting and they find little tara still there, eyes tracing the parking lot with expectancy, they're the ones who offer to walk her home.
(i'm waiting for my sister, she'd say. she told me she'd be here. she's always here. and tara's looking up at them with tears in her eyes, leg bouncing, hands always fidgeting and playing with the necklace sam gave her on her eighth birthday.)
when sam is back, tara is always wary. she's watching her every move, her breath always hitching when sam tells her she's going out for groceries or to pick up their dinner. she's just always afraid that sam is gonna leave. she promised me she wouldn't. she knows. she still did.
it's a little complicated, at first, dealing with each other's feelings. sam has pretty bad days where she doesn't want to get out of bed, and can't even take care of tara, who's still recovering from her wounds. tara sometimes feels so overwhelmed she doesn't want to be touched, to be fed, to be taken care of. sometimes she's so angry at sam she screams on her face, and then she's sobbing on her chest and apologizing, holding her tight. please don't leave me, i'm sorry, this is all my fault.
sam also apologizes for everything constantly. for leaving tara when they were young, even though they both knew she had no choice, and that tara doesn't really blame her. she apologizes for richie, and for what happened in the legacy murders. tara always reassures her that these were things she couldn't control, that it's not her fault, that all that matters is that they're together and will get through this.
tara starts skipping therapy/physical therapy and, of course, doesn't tell sam. she's so afraid her sister will be mad at her and leave.
when sam discovers? she isn't mad. she doesn't yell nor hits tara, and she doesn't leave, like tara feared she would. she only looks... sad. disappointed. upset that her sister lied. tara soon discovers making sam sad hurts even more than infuriating her.
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13, 3, and 7 with luke???
Thank you for requesting🖤
If there’s one thing you’ve learned since you started dating Luke Hughes three years ago it’s that you don’t let young hockey players inside a kitchen. The only exception is a bowl of cereal or a sandwich but anything other than that is off limits.
A rule Luke decided to break this morning as you were sleeping.
You didn’t think much of how Luke’s side of the bed was cold when you woke up this morning. Keeping track of his practices and training schedule is something that’s just muscle memory at this point so it’s not surprising to wake up and find him gone.
Climbing out of bed you grab Luke’s discarded sweatshirt from the desk chair pulling it over your head. Warm fuzzy slippers on your feet as you pad down the hallway and over to the kitchen. Craving your morning smoothie bowl and juice.
What greets you inside the kitchen is comical. Luke is standing in the middle of it all, pink smoothie in his hair, on his clothes and the kitchen island. It’s even on the ceiling.
It takes you a millisecond to come back to earth but when you do a howling laughter fills the silence. Hands clutching your stomach from how hard you’re laughing and tears slipping from your eyes. Your boyfriend fumbles with his words until he starts laughing along. “Stop laughing at me!” He tries to sound mad but he’s giggling as he says it.
“What happened in here?” You wheeze out as you calm down from your laughing fit. Eyes scanning over Luke’s appearance once again, reaching for a kitchen towel throwing it over at him. Luke catches it with ease. Wiping his hair and clothes down.
“Listen that!-“ his hands waving in the air to signify the current mess. “Wasn’t supposed to happen. I just wanted to make you your breakfast but I forgot to put the lid on top of the blender..” He mumbles the last part. A pink rings on his cheeks.
You giggle at that, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing each of his cheeks until you plant one on his lips. “You’re adorable, it’s the thought that counts Moose but maybe we can just make breakfast together from now on? So we don’t get smoothie all over the place again.” Looking sheepish he nods at your words.
Your sweet moment is ruined by the sound of a splat on the floor. Looking down you notice that it’s a pink glob that’s fallen from the ceiling. This making both of you start laughing again before grabbing cleaning supplies to clean up the mess before the other guys wake up and chirp Luke for the rest of his life.
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