#anywho yeah

[gatoiberico]

it's montage time!!

(drawn on the xppen artist 16 2nd gen for a collab with xppen!)

[shokupanda]

💤 time to snorkmimi with my blahaj (the last of my finals are done!!!) (ill go back to posting in a bit but for now i will mostly slemb) (made this quick thing bc wow i forget drawing can be fun bc of all the graphic design busywork)

[pistachi0art]

What Do You Headcanon The G-Man's Actual Name As? Growing Up, I Always Assumed It Was Garry's Mod (I Was Six And Someone Told Me It's Called GMod For Short Because The G-Man Made It, I WASN'T VERY SMART-)

Anyways, If You Do Have A Name In Mind For The G-Man, What Do You Think It Would Be?

Lmao good intro ^^ but as for G-Man name hcs? I sometimes playfully call him Garry Mann (as in a G-Mod/TF2 reference ha ha) but sometimes I call him Giovanni bc of general fandom hcs. But yeah- Garry Mann. Or Garry Mann Coolatta if we’re talking about hlvrai :)

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

hey @sunnyinajar, I took your boys for the night, hope you don’t mind

(one of these days I’m gonna learn how to draw foxy so i can make two idiots kiss)

[crazynerdandproud]

Forget a Mistborn movie, where's the Reckoner's movie with Stephen Lang playing Prof

[hinasho]

You ever daydream about a romance or a crush or whatever and afterwards just go “wow what a nice fantasy. Too bad I am in no way emotionally or mentally ready for anything like that”

[starryarles]

gonna daydream in the tags rq if u don't mind

[so-you-read-the-usernames]

Female characters who are the sole voice of reason <<<<<<< Female characters who think of themselves as the sole voice of reason but who are actually just as insane as those around them

[stressed-sock]

song that i got inkwell au's title from :D

[scramboi]

as a gay person whos recently realized that theyre a furry, its so fucking funny how im sorta having problems accepting that when i didnt even have a shred of internalized homophobia when realizing im gay

like teenaged me unabashedly looking up "hot guy shirtless" in images dot google dot com but im sitting here rn shaking and crying and pissing and shitting trying to search "red panda fursona" lmaoo djhdjdbejheje

[bi-writes]

whats wrong with ai?? genuinely curious <3

okay let's break it down. i'm an engineer, so i'm going to come at you from a perspective that may be different than someone else's.

i don't hate ai in every aspect. in theory, there are a lot of instances where, in fact, ai can help us do things a lot better without. here's a few examples:

ai detecting cancer

ai sorting recycling

some practical housekeeping that gemini (google ai) can do

all of the above examples are ways in which ai works with humans to do things in parallel with us. it's not overstepping--it's sorting, using pixels at a micro-level to detect abnormalities that we as humans can not, fixing a list. these are all really small, helpful ways that ai can work with us.

everything else about ai works against us. in general, ai is a huge consumer of natural resources. every prompt that you put into character.ai, chatgpt? this wastes water + energy. it's not free. a machine somewhere in the world has to swallow your prompt, call on a model to feed data into it and process more data, and then has to generate an answer for you all in a relatively short amount of time.

that is crazy expensive. someone is paying for that, and if it isn't you with your own money, it's the strain on the power grid, the water that cools the computers, the A/C that cools the data centers. and you aren't the only person using ai. chatgpt alone gets millions of users every single day, with probably thousands of prompts per second, so multiply your personal consumption by millions, and you can start to see how the picture is becoming overwhelming.

that is energy consumption alone. we haven't even talked about how problematic ai is ethically. there is currently no regulation in the united states about how ai should be developed, deployed, or used.

what does this mean for you?

it means that anything you post online is subject to data mining by an ai model (because why would they need to ask if there's no laws to stop them? wtf does it matter what it means to you to some idiot software engineer in the back room of an office making 3x your salary?). oh, that little fic you posted to wattpad that got a lot of attention? well now it's being used to teach ai how to write. oh, that sketch you made using adobe that you want to sell? adobe didn't tell you that anything you save to the cloud is now subject to being used for their ai models, so now your art is being replicated to generate ai images in photoshop, without crediting you (they have since said they don't do this...but privacy policies were never made to be human-readable, and i can't imagine they are the only company to sneakily try this). oh, your apartment just installed a new system that will use facial recognition to let their residents inside? oh, they didn't train their model with anyone but white people, so now all the black people living in that apartment building can't get into their homes. oh, you want to apply for a new job? the ai model that scans resumes learned from historical data that more men work that role than women (so the model basically thinks men are better than women), so now your resume is getting thrown out because you're a woman.

ai learns from data. and data is flawed. data is human. and as humans, we are racist, homophobic, misogynistic, transphobic, divided. so the ai models we train will learn from this. ai learns from people's creative works--their personal and artistic property. and now it's scrambling them all up to spit out generated images and written works that no one would ever want to read (because it's no longer a labor of love), and they're using that to make money. they're profiting off of people, and there's no one to stop them. they're also using generated images as marketing tools, to trick idiots on facebook, to make it so hard to be media literate that we have to question every single thing we see because now we don't know what's real and what's not.

the problem with ai is that it's doing more harm than good. and we as a society aren't doing our due diligence to understand the unintended consequences of it all. we aren't angry enough. we're too scared of stifling innovation that we're letting it regulate itself (aka letting companies decide), which has never been a good idea. we see it do one cool thing, and somehow that makes up for all the rest of the bullshit?

[brainman1987]

Even more legends of Avantris bullshiticus!

The pile is like… Gideon on the floor, while Frost Kremy and Torbek all lay as close as they can to tThe Heat Source (TM) and Hootsie and Gricko sleep a lil off to the side because they’re a feed back loop of warmth I guess?

[shokupanda]

🎉 silly quick sticker to celebrate a streamer i like getting twitch partnered (@/vanillionshake)

[pistachi0art]

someone get his brown contacts please

[fifthnailinstevesbat]

after the events of season 4, steve just wanting SO BADLY to be friends with eddie. just LOVING the idea of them getting closer and having eddie as a friend because hell yeah! a close male friendship with someone that is actually my age, and who i don’t have a weird history with involving bruised eyes and love triangles? count me IN! and eddie is FUN, he is actually hilarious! the way they share the same glances of understanding when dustin is being an absolute shit head, rambling on and on about some obscure topic, expecting everyone to always be on the exact same page as him. of course. and, although steve suspects that eddie actually probably is keeping up with everything dustin says, much better than he ever could, he knows that above it all eddie can appreciate the antics for what they are, and roll his eyes with steve at dustin, i concur, you dustin henderson, are a total butthead.

steve just about junps RIGHT IN to being friends with eddie. hey man, what’cha up to tonight? wanna watch a movie? get drunk, smoke a bit? hey eddie, how have you been, man? he starts calling eddie up on the phone regularly just to check in, shoot the shit, he loves it! he loves having this new friendship with eddie munson and he loves how much the other boy has surprised him with how much he actually enjoys being around him. he’s not a freak, really, well ok maybe he is a little bit, but only in the best ways. he’s kind, thoughtful, and is always looking out for the people he cares about, which is something steve can really respect in a dude. but he’s also so funny? steve never could’ve anticipated just how much eddie has managed to make him genuinely LAUGH over their short amount of time spent together. and he’s really, out there? with the way he presents himself, the way he takes up space with these big THEATRICAL movements, leaving no room for regret or shame or god forbid embarrassment. steve isn’t even sure munson is capable of feeling it at all.

eddie munson is a good dude, and steve could use a bit more of that kind of person around him. he loves all of his friends, the weird little bonded family he’s found himself apart of, and they are all good people, but it never hurts to have afew more added in here and there. it never hurts to know there are more good people out there to find.

so steve is all over eddie, it seems.

at least, from where eddie is standing. nobody else seems as phased as eddie does at this sudden change in steve’s demeanour, in his interest in what eddie munson spends his time doing these days. it seems like, to everyone else, to steve, it’s just a natural progression in their relationship, after being sort of role model figures to the same group of kids, both being the two single dudes, who fought the same monsters together last spring, it seems nobody questions too much that they’d start casually hanging around eachother more. especially since eddie has found himself to fit into his own special spot as one of the group now after it all, after he unwillingly became tangled in this whole upsidedown-superpowers-supernatural-monsters and demons debacle, and tangled quite dramatically at that, the rest of the group that’s been with this since the beginning seemed to find no trouble in taking him in and seeing him as “one of them” now.

so, steve asking eddie to smoke, to watch movies, to go for a drive with no real end destination, it’s not really something that earns them too many double takes. dustin makes a comment or two in the beginning, because steve since when did you like hanging out with eddie? you guys are like so opposite, you don’t like any of the same stuff he does? and steve barely gives a shrug and a dismissive yeah yeah whatever man in response, with a signature eye roll, and dustin had said it seemingly also not too seriously, poking fun at steve wherever he can, not really meaning anything by it, as he fidgets around and rambles in the backseat of steve’s car, eddie riding up front. after that, though, he’s dropped it. it’s never brought up again. part of eddie thinks, too, that dustin would actually be enjoying that his two older friends are becoming friends themselves.

robin seems to be the only other person to look a bit harder at their situation, lingering stares at their interactions, all squinted eyes and eyebrows raised, though from her all this seems to be almost always and only ever directed at steve. eddie’s not sure what to make of that. isn’t he the weird one? i mean, he’s the one that stands out, right? he’s the odd denominator that makes their friendship strange. why would steve harrington want to hang out with Him? HIM? but robin doesn’t spend her time studying eddie to try and search for what about him could possibly have piqued the interest of cherished steven harrington, no, shes always looking at steve. like she’s seeing him differently, almost. eddie doesn’t even think that steve notices it, either, because he doesn’t seem to be questioning or doubting anything odd or strange or out of the ordinary with their newfound time spent together. and maybe, maybe robin is seeing him differently. eddie knows he definitely has been. seeing him more, intensely. deeply. human. seeing the person that steve is, as just steve, not this idealised version of a boy that eddies starting to question ever really even existed at all, or if everyone around him just needed to believe that he did, and who was steve if not happy to comply to the wants of the people around him for who he should be?

eddie likes having steve as his friend, too. don’t get it twisted. he loves how unexpectedly expressive steve is about everything, even really small things. steve LOVES to raise his voice, rest a hand on his popped hip, scolding the kids for something stupid with no real heat or malice behind it. and steve is, like, kinda bitchy too. eddie knew he had the capacity to be a real asshole when he wanted to be, that’s all he knew steve for back in the day, when he was back in high school, hanging around tommy h and the basketball boys, the jocks. eddie would spend his days hearing only whispers and gossip in the hallways of the parties at king steve’s house and the fights king steve had started and won on the court or out in the fields, only ever getting as close as a shove into a locker with the guy at the time, but eddie knew how it could go. he knew all about what steve had done to jonathan, what he’d said to him, the words he’d used. eddie knew it all. he’d seen enough, and been through enough himself, to know how these guys acted in response to guys like him, like jonathan, people who were lower on the social food chain. so, eddie knew about steve’s “mean streak”, if you will, but this kind of snarky bitchiness was something new to him. harrington was almost, sassy, when he wanted to be. it was less so cruel and more just, just sass. if he’s being completely honest it kind of blew eddie away, at first. he thought steve was one of those dull headed jocks who thought with their fists more than their actual brains, but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. steve’s insults were well thought out, they were FUNNY, he was smart with his words. and silly. oh my god steve harrington could be so fucking silly, real honest to god goofball when the moment called for it, when he felt comfortable enough. eddie had caught on multiple occasions steve mimicking lightsabers to play fight with dustin, or the stupid fucking shit he would do or say just to make robin laugh, singing along to a song playing on the radio with a funny voice.

it was all a little, intoxicating, to watch. eddie didn’t know what gave him the right to be in on this now, to get to see this side of steve and better yet to be at the other end of some of his best qualities. it was fun, all the time they spent together, but there was always something else tugging inside eddie everytime they spent close time together, too. something, he knew steve wasn’t aware of. something he knew steve wasn’t equipped to deal with. something he knew, was him. was him, making things something more than they should be, because, nobody seemed to be questioning that they could become friends, so why ruin that? why disrupt it?

- robin and steve

“Steve.”

“-but then like, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to watch it I just thought, hey, y’know, let’s try something different for a change, but then he- oh my god he honest to god TACKLED ME Robin — I mean, it was so fucking funny and it happened so quick — and all over a fucking Tom Cruise movie-“

“STEVE.” Robin lightly slammed a hand onto the counter. She had been standing behind it for no short of 20 minutes, watching Steve as he paced around, supposed to be stacking tapes onto shelves, but ended up spending the whole time going on and on, and ON, about how movie night went with Eddie last night. She thought she was bad…

Steve jumped, almost running into a shelf and knocking down his hard work, and seemed to snap out of whatever trance he had found himself in after starting to tell Robin a story about something funny Eddie had done last night.

“Shit, sorry. Sorry, what were you saying? Were you- were you saying something?”

To this, Robin just rolls her eyes and let’s out a laugh, “You, sir, are goddamn hopeless.”

“Sorry. How long was I talking for?” Steve wandered his way over to lean his arms onto the counter from the opposite side.

“Oh, I dunno Steve, just about half an HOUR?”

“That is an over exaggeration Robin, it’s only been like-“

“Honestly, man, i’m concerned for you. You are like next level OBSESSED with Eddie. Eddie Munson. You do realise this right??? You are obsessed with him, Steve.”

To this Steve sputters, lazily waving his hands back and forth.

“No, Robin, what the hell are you talking about? I am not OBSESSED. No need to be jealous, alright, Stevie-Boy here can have more than one friend. Your spot in my heart isn’t any less special now that it’s beginning to be shared by another.” He bats his eyelashes up at her, holding both hands over his chest as if to cradle his heart.

“Oh my GOD! You even SOUND LIKE HIM!”, she playfully slaps his shoulder. “Steve. You are obsessed.”

“I am not obsessed! He’s just a really great guy, alright-“

“Blah blah, yep whatever you say, lover boy.” Robin quips, plopping down onto the chair chair infront of their staff computer, turning herself to face it.

“Wha- what? Lover boy? What the hell Robin, that is not- that doesn’t even make any sense!”

She is just smiling at him now, enjoying seeing him spiral like this. Steve let’s out a sigh as he puts his hands on his hips, and shakes his head, looking at her right back.

He opens and closes his mouth afew times, like he’s really thinking about what he wants to say next. Or like he has no idea what to say next, and his brain is not moving fast enough to formulate the next sentence his mouth knows he wants to say. He wasn’t obsessed. That’s not- that’s like- no. No he was not, Robin was just playing around with him, she knew how to get on his nerves. Get him all wound up over little things just to see him react like this.

After a minute or two, Robin realises Steve was not going to reply anytime soon, so she turns fully back toward him. Saving him from his spiral.

“So, what are you’re plans for tonight Steve-O?”

He lets out a chuckle and walks around the counter till he’s behind it with Robin, leaning his back against it so he can stand across from her and face her.

“Well, not really sure. Parents aren’t home, no early shift tomorrow, might drink afew beers, listen to some music, —“

“See what Eddie’s doin?” Robin finishes for him, quirking her eyebrows up and down as she does it.

“Oh shut up!” Steve just laughs and softly throws a tape from the counter at her chest. “As a matter of fact, yeah I will see what he’s up to. Because we are friends now, Robin. Is that a problem? Actually I was also gonna ask you what you were up to after work, too, but you know what after this I’m having second thoughts, I mean, the way you’ve been treating me lately-“

“Oh my god, you are the worst. Yes, I’m free, of course I’ll hang out with you dingus. You and your tweedle dee.”

Steve laughs at this, then tilts his head.

“Wait, does that make me dumb? Tweedle dumb?! That’s how you see me?”

“Yeah it is actually, got a problem?”

“Oh wow, she’s feisty today. Can’t believe you think I’m dumb, Rob’s. When you come knockin’ tonight, do not expect a warm greeting at my front door.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take my chances.”

- later. steve’s house. to be continued?

[fleuraimer]

boxer!carmy and his girl’s first time ❤️

sorry for the wait nonnie :((

wc: 3.3k (still no explanation 🤝)

cw: smut. minors dni. 17+. kinda dubcon (consent is never explicitly given but rather heavily implied). unprotected p in v (wrap it). fingering (f receiving). oral (m&f receiving). messy, like disgusting lots of spitting&fluids. spanking&mild slapping. manhandling. creampie. kinda mean!carm but just like rough dom!carm idk. lmk if i missed anything pls!!

The second the back door to the limousine is slammed shut, Carmen shoots for Y/N. He grapples at any part of her he can as she actively scrambles as far from him as their confined space would allow.

He smirks to himself as his large paw finally fits to her delicate ankle; he doesn’t know what led him to believe she’d give it up without making him work for it, just a little bit, if not like a peasant appeasing his deity.

He prefers a game of cat and mouse, anyway.

She yelps and flops onto her tummy, cheek to the leather bench-seat, when he yanks her back into his kneeling figure.

“Where’re y’runnin’ off to, Cub?” He grunts into the heady atmosphere, not loud but certainly not soft, an inflection that cultivates something burning and nasty in her being, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, buzzing.

They both distantly acknowledge the sound of the partition being raised.

“There’s nowhere t’hide,” he mutters, his large palms gripping at her hips, raising her sprawled lower half into his hard, straining stiffy, ass perked and melded around his pelvis with her cheek still pressed to the scaly leather. His left hand settles on the swell of her pretty ass as his right slides up to the dip in her back, pressing, pushing down so her sternum’s glued to the butt off the seat just like her cute little face, arched pretty and presenting for him. He issues another stinging spank to her sweet ass with his left hand, mumbles beneath his breath, “Not from me, Baby,” as he forces her back into her perfect arch when she chirps from the impact, form hunching and jerking. They shudder against each other as her stuttering hips roll back into him, stiff bulge smearing over her messy, cotton-covered pussy.

His eager fingers scrunch the hem of her baby pink sweater dress up the backs of her thighs, bunched just at the slope of her curved back, dimples on display. He runs his palms up her quivering tummy to her heaving chest and drags those tiny, teasing triangle cups down, her soft breasts spilling over the knitted fabric. They idly come back down and slip through the flimsy strings connecting her fucking flimsier panties together, playing, tugging so the damp gusset stretches taut over her leaking cunt, cutting into her aching pearl.

He watches the elastic snap back into the supple fat of her ass with a satisfied hum.

When he moves her soaking garment to the side, he’s not expecting the strings of slick, bowing between her neglected pussy and confining panties, arousal webbed across her flesh. Curious, Carm slides his calloused thumb through the swamp of slick pooling at her sticky lips, catching in her hole, sinking. He meets little resistance in his endeavors.

“Look at tha’, Cub,” he croons, petting through her mess, “Swallowin’ me right up…” His free fingers smear into her puffy clit while his thumb continues to delve through her, head dizzying with every compression of her pulsing pussy. “Think y’could take m’cock, jus’ like this?”

She shivers against him, “Fuck, Bear—”

“Hmm?” he drones, focused on the curl and claw of her fingers against the leather seats. He pulls his thumb from her opening, wipes her essence on the imprinted palm prints scorching her ass, and fits his middle and ring finger inside instead. He watches her choke on her spit, shriveled, hiccoughed breaths emitted as drool froths in the corner of her gaping mouth. He smirks, predatory—bear-ish. “Think y’could, Cub?”

She nods her head against the seat, fervent, “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmmm,” she whines into the leather.

He tuts softly at her desperation, offers her another spank that echoes in the stagnant air.

“Don’ be greedy, Cub,” he utters, which is, honestly, just ridiculous to say as he gropes and squeezes and smacks up any part of her he so pleases (not as if she has much room to speak, seeing as she literally drooling for it). His hands run up her sides, slithering between the stretchy fabric of her dress so it scrunches up beneath her chin, chest fitting to her back as he forces her to lift that pretty, hollow head so he can strip her down to her underwear. He kisses just behind the shell of her ear and whispers, “I’ll give y’what y’need, Baby.”

Delivers, too. Slips back down her back and slides his burly arms between her spread legs to wrap around her waist and tug her where she needs—his pretty, busted mouth.

He taps his tongue on her clit to hear her whine, suckles light and notches his bumpy nose in her dripping hole.

“Oh, my fuckin—”

He licks up, laves over her button and her hole and farther—up—to her rosebud, fingers dug into her red ass, spreading, like cake on a platter. Rolls his tongue back down to suck on her pearl, firm, weltering between his lips, and fuck his nose, gentle but present, in her soft opening.

“Carm— Carmy, you—” Cuts herself off with huffy gasps and groans, shakes against his pretty, beat up face when he brings his arm from between her legs to spank her—no firmer or meaner than before, yet no less jarring, stinging—and slips it right back through to wrap around her waist and spread her back open for him.

“Wha’s m’name, Cub?” he slurs into her pussy.

“Bear!”

“S’it, Baby, s’a good girl,” he mumbles, smeared across her modesty—sealed at the alter, an orison to his deity.

Carmy eats her messy; it’s not as if she wasn’t leaky before, he just… uses it to his advantage. Takes her arousal—saccharine and heady—and mixes it with his spit so much that webs between her cunt and his face like her slick had to her panties.

If he wipes it up, it’s halfhearted—for the benefit of rubbing a piece of both himself and her into her flesh, soothing her very essence and his liquid greed into the irritated skin of her ass, shimmering when street light seeps through the car windows and catches on his mark.

Otherwise, he lets it drip and fall and stir together so he’s sliding through it, tongue slipping up and down—up and down, up and down—to her sticky hole and clit, up—up—to her teased asshole to slobber and kiss and suckle and make her wriggle and writhe, shivering, shoving herself back into him, his mouth, his tongue; his zeal and the pleasure it affronts her with

(something walking the line of respect and humiliation, tipping—side-to-side, up and down, all around—between a purification and a violation—dizzying to the head and blurring to the eyes; fuzzy to the senses).

“Pleasepleaseplease,” she prays under her shortened breath, hand reaching back to press to Carmy’s curls and let her fingers slot through the swirling tendrils so she can tug him into her, pushing his head back down, urging his lips to return to her slick pearl. “G’na come, please,” she chirps, scratchy in her throat, unused.

He grunts against her—vocals racking through her body—and fits his mouth over her sweet clit again, nosedived in her pussy.

“Shit!” she cries, skittish. “Please, fucking— Ah!”

He draws back with a noisy pop that could make her scream (curl up in a ball and cry and wail and fucking throw up because what the fuck is his issue?).

“Anybody ev’r made y’squirt b’fore, Cub?” he mumbles, nonchalant but not

(so, that’s his issue).

The sound of him slurping up her dripping slick—not a drop gone to waste—muffles her meek reply of, “Mm-hmm, Bear,” head shaking as she nuzzles into the bend of her elbow.

“No?” He tsks. “S’a shame, but I ain’t complainin’; Get t’break y’in.”

He pulls his arms from between her legs to grip her shaky thighs and fix her positioning, her presentation—ass up, face down—sloppy where it was once prestige. Takes two thick ringed fingers and stuffs them up her fluttering, pliant pussy. Slips right inside, so he forces a third without pause, and starts fucking them into her.

His motions are simultaneously precise and fluid. He knows where to stroke and how to stroke it, which ways work best to achieve the desired reaction. The calloused pads of his fingers pet firmly at the soft spot inside her the makes her toes curl beside his legs, the thick of his fingers stretching her sucking, gummy walls around him, blooming, petals unfurling—flower blossoming—for him.

It’s incessant, the brew of arousal at the base of her belly. Bubbling over the surface. Pressing, pushing—

“Fuck! Car— Bear, coming! M’coming, don’t stop, M’— Hmm, don’t fucking stop, Bear!”

She does come—gushes over his three thick fingers and spates when he slips them free and pinches and presses and pats at her tacky clit, firm beneath his plucking finger-pads, puffy and stiff with scorn, discount, oversensitive with anticipation.

“Jesus Christ, Cub,” Carm growls, a bully with his offering of pleasure, selfish. Keeps petting and petting and petting at her button, keeps her coming, shaking, squirting in his open, eager palm. “S’a good fuckin’ girl, Baby—look at that fuckin’ cream. Keep comin’ f’me, Sweetheart.”

He doesn't let up until she's twitching so much she might melt right off the seat and into a puddle on the limo floor. Carmy chuckles, a dark rumble from somewhere buried in his belly, and grips her hunched shoulders, yanking her behind into his front.

"Need a break, Cub?" He asks, sympathetic, condensation coating his lilt, and she's nodding before he can finish speaking. He soothes a kiss into the skin just beside the hinge of her jaw, strictly supple, and moves them together so he's sitting up right in the leather seat (he slips slightly, on all that mess and drool his cub left behind, and he huffs a small laugh because of it).

He flips her to face him with the objective of getting her chest to chest, sat pretty in his straining lap, but when he draws he nearer she pushes at his chest and drops down to the floor, sat pretty on her knees for him.

For someone so incoherent—sluggish in speech, jumbled and only sometimes discernible—she makes damn quick work of the button and zipper of his dress pants, yanking those and his briefs down together in a carnal, oddly endearing display of need, or want or something—deeper; something bigger than words or speaking or thoughts, but feeling, vivid, in sense, in meaning, in something difficult to describe—but it doesn't matter much to Carmy because she's taking his stiff cock in her soft, small hands, warm and contradicting the cool of her rings, and lifting the ruddy, weeping tip to her glossy lips, shimmer and spit-slicked.

She spits on his fat head, and doesn't bother hiding her pleased smile at the resulting groan she's awarded. Her sly, pink tongue peeks out and licks, chaste, around her squeezing fingers, jerking, twisting, working his cock with a mixture of his pre and her spit.

"Shiit," he moans when she settles him between her sticky, glittery lips, still tonguing at his tip even as he stretches her sweet mouth (Carmy wasn't particularly long, average, but not lengthy. His width was an entirely different question, though. The girth of his cock was enough that it makes even his hand seem conventionally sized).

He works his rough fingers through her hair as she sinks lower, steady, calculated, on his cock, soft suction, gentle, pulsing with wet heat. She stops halfway, sucks in her cheeks and pulls back a little but then drops right back down, lower—sinking—until her nose is nestled in his sparse happy trail and he can feel the contraction of her tight little throat around his fat head.

"S'good, Cub," he gasps lowly, chest heaving, pressing wisps of hair, dry and drenched, from her face. He brings one hand down to the base of her neck, thumb rubbing softly, soothing, that urges her down when she lifts. "Nuh," he grunts, hips jerking when she chokes around him. Her small paws skim over his thighs and grip at his sides for leverage, but she doesn't fight it.

Relaxes into it, on the contrary. Arches that back and closes her watering eyes and feels the flutters of her stuffed throat instead of trying to stop them.

"'Atta girl," he grumbles, leaning over her to play with her perked ass—gripping, wiggling, spanking—and then trail his fingers down to her hollow cunt. He stuffs with three fingers, swift.

She mewls around his thick cock, gags and taps his side twice so he'll let up. Does so easily, eagerly, almost, a palm fit to her jaw that tugs her up, up, up to his bitten, busted lips. She's huffy, heaving and stuttering breaths through hiccoughs and whimpers, but she takes his kiss like she craves it. Opens her mouth and let him lick into each corner and crevice, suckles and bites on his cut in the corner of his bottom lip until metallic coats her tastebuds. She lulls, and he keeps her up for him, lips locked and tongues tied, uncoordinated and sloppy but good—sating.

He shoves her back down when a hefty drip of drool hangs between their chins, reaching for his forgotten cock. She takes him down to the root immediately, this time, strokes her tongue across the girth of his cock, running up and down the protruding veins before she pulling back, slurping up the mess she's made to spit it back onto him and do it over again.

And again, and again—again

(Stay, Cub, he coos, nose tucked to his belly, gagging—messy girl, he chastises, but doesn't soften—thumb and forefinger of his right hand pinching her nose and his left at the base of her neck, thumb soothing).

He rips her back up when she tries to take one of his full balls between her sloppy, saccharine lips because if she had he would've busted all over her pretty, ruined face. She whines and protests against his wrangling, but he's far too firm—big and strong and capable—tuts away her greed with a few stinging, lingering pats to her cheek.

"What'd I say, Cub?" he mumbles, scrutinizing, two fingers shoved down her eager throat to satiate her. And yet, he still looks at her for an answer like she's in any position to speak. "Hmm?" he presses, and pats her cheek rosy red, prodding and smearing spit over the irate hue.

"Don't be greedy," she repeats his prior instruction, just quick and clear enough for him to make it out before three fingers are pushing past her lips again.

"S'right," he nods, tilts his head up to press a delicate kiss to her sweaty forehead, paw fit to her flushed cheek. "Lucky y'so pretty—don't be greedy, Cub; G'na listen this time?"

She swallows, bobs her dizzy head up and down and inches foreward in search of his mouth, sighing something soft and darling from the pit of her belly as their tongues touch, silken, velveteen laving and savoring.

He pulls her back by a fist to her scalp before they can get too carried away, twists her around so her back is facing him and pushes her down until her arms shoot out to catch her against the seats lining the opposite side of the limo. He grasps her supple hips and drags her back, leaking pussy slotted to his hot, throbbing cock—moves his right hand over to the small of her back and presses, urges her back into the perfect presentation.

He works his cock through her slick—not necessary, with the way he's soaked in her spit, dripping and webby—clinging—to her flesh, the seam of her full thighs and puffy pussy—his fat tip bumping the head of her clit with every pass.

"Fuck—fuck, Bear—please, put it inside, put it— please—"

He sinks in before she can swallow her fervid tongue, dives through her wet, gummy walls, pushes into her to the hilt, stretched, filled to the brim, cockhead smearing at her cervix. They moan together as he fits himself to her, balls squeezed tight against her sticky clit. His fingers dig into the full of her bruising ass, marked up and cherry red, finger-pads milling craters into her flesh as he shifts back, drags himself out so he can cram himself right back in, exacting—forces his cock out to the tip through her vice grip and stretches his way back inside.

"Oh!" she mewls, head bowing between her bunched shoulders. "Fuck, you're— fucking— y'big; s'big, Bear," she stutters, trips over her leaden tongue, shakes and gasps when he finds a steady pace, sating, to fuck his cock into her; bullying his desire—desperation, greed—into her very being. Her fingers claw at the leather seat, grappling fruitlessly, as he pulls out and strokes back in, contracting over the present grooves and ridges, thick veins, of his swelled cock.

"Look at this little pussy, fuckin' swallowin' m'cock," he mutters, awestruck. He offers her bouncing ass a sharp spank, bearish and blunt, that ripens the imprints formerly singed into her skin. "Bring it back f'me, Baby; work this ass f'my cock."

Her obligation to his request is clumsy, feverish, but what she lacks in fluidity she makes up for in vigor. Swivels her hips up so his cock is only kept snug by the head, and rolls them back down, slow, cherished, veiny girth disappearing inch by delicious inch into her muggy cunt.

"Fuck, Cub!" he moans, debauched, and cants his hips up to meet her half way—uses his hold on her swirling hips to tug her on him how they both need, press in farther, and farther still.

Her right hand slips from the leather and slides down, over her heaving chest and full belly—ignores the obtrusive bulge in her stomach—to her mound, lower, where she finds her tender clit to tweak and twist and knead beneath her fingertips, rubbed to mingled discomfort and gratification.

"Y'playin' with m'pussy, Sweetheart?" he grunts, daunting, but gives no other form of admonishment, doubles down, if anything, on the power and level of leisure to his thrusts. She cries brokenly into the crook of her elbow, pinches harder at her clit, shrivels into his strokes.

"G'na make m'come," she whimpers, feather soft and watery at the base of her throat, head heavy and fuzzy and shaking, enamored and terrified, a heady culmination of sensations.

And Carm's been fending off his impending orgasm for far too long, enough for the ache in his belly to fester into something much keener—more earnest—so: "Go 'head, Cub; come on m'cock so I can fill you up," he coos, fucking her harder, faster, deeper (chasmic, impossible but tangible and maddening). "Give it t'me, Sweetheart; C'mon, Baby, gim'me that sweet fuckin' come—"

Y/N flutters around him, arousal flowing from her cunt in waves, pushed—pressed out from the pressure and stretch of his girth inside her. Her lips part in a silent scream, pooling and brimming with spit, spilling over her plump lips and hanging, dripping, to the carpeted floors.

"Good—shit—good fuckin' girl, t's...S'fuckin' tight, Cub, fuck."

He spills into her, strokes faltering before he gives her one last, sure thrust up to lock him to her, balls taut and pulsing against her slick pearl. They grind into each other as they ride out the tail ends' of their satisfaction, dripping between their slopped, joined parts.

"Fuck," Carm huffs, sagging into her as she does to him, slumping against the butt of the leather seat behind. "All right, Cub?"

"Hmm," she hums in agreement, head lulling back to settle on the bulk of his shoulder and press her nose into the hinge of his jaw, inhaling.

He turns to smack a kiss onto her temple, across her sweat-slicked forehead, eying her tenderly through stumbled breaths. "Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"S'good," he sighs, and sinks into his position—seated on the floor of his limousine after bludgeoning his challenger in his pay-per-view match, stealing his girl—pretty in pink—and fucking her into the carpet and leather. He leans his head back and shuts his heavy eyes, cock still stuffed up her cunt, their essence leaking from her twitching hole and around his softening cock.

It was a good night.

——

a/n: i don't wanna talk abt it...

edit: the way y'all saw a third of the story repeated n js didn't lmk.

loosely edited/proofread!!