Tumgik
#this is such an old fic
noelledeltarune · 7 months
Text
EVERY SINGLE DAY there are MILLIONS of characters in their late 20s who get falsely accused of being father figures to teenagers when in reality the description of "weird older cousin" or "step-sibling that moved out before you were born" is 1000000x more apt
69K notes · View notes
allskywalkerswhine · 7 months
Text
in fics where luke gets plopped into the prequels i want every jedi within ten metres of him to think hes the weirdest jedi theyve ever seen. he has negative lightsaber form. he doesnt know what a kata is. he handstands when he meditates. his solution to sith is to try and have a chat. hes a political radical who keeps suggesting revolution. you ask him what the jedi code is and he says "kindness and compassion and helping those in need :) ". you ask how he used the force like that and he says some shit about how you are a luminous being limited only by your mind. the councils authority is just a suggestion. he is somehow the new favourite of both qui gon and yoda
33K notes · View notes
tadfools · 4 months
Text
You guys are commenting on the fics you read right? You’re at least leaving kudos on the Astarion smut and the pairs that have less than 20 fics for them too? You’re bookmarking stories you really like that are still being updated and ones that haven’t been touched in over a year right?
You know that even the smallest interactions are like cocaine to fic writers right? You understand how important a string of emoji hearts left behind on chapter at three am is right?? Right????
You’re treating AO3 like a community and not a content factory….right?
16K notes · View notes
mearchy · 2 months
Text
7K notes · View notes
dufrau · 1 year
Text
COMMENT ON OLD FICS, I BEG YOU!
I swear to god after like a week people will still be reading but nobody leaves comments anymore and I just want to make it absolutely clear that I would be excited and elated to get a comment on these fics one hundred years after I post them.
A FIC IS NEVER TOO OLD TO LEAVE A NICE COMMENT ON. GO FORTH AND COMMENT!
26K notes · View notes
gutsby · 5 days
Text
Ruined!
Tumblr media
Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader
Summary: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.
Warnings: 18+. Peepaw brainrot + a dash of anorgasmia. Unprotected p-in-v, cockwarming, age gap, daddy kink.
Note: Finals are whooping my ass left & right. This is a quickie.
Word count: 1.2k | Part of the Waiting Game ‘verse
Tumblr media
Surely he was hurting you now.
Joel Miller had a kink for many, many fun activities, but splitting a sweet young thing like you over his cock to the point you were almost in tears was just not one of them.
At the same time your poor, surely-bruised walls pulsed around his hardened length, he felt a pang of guilt. His balls were pressed against your ass like two lead weights, soaked with the remains of your third release, and his mind was at war with itself—keep fucking you like this? Pull out and offer his sincerest apologies for not being able to cum? A boy your age would’ve never had you waiting around like that, aching around his cock, much less begging for something as simple as a cumshot.
He decided to go straight to the source. Leaning over your prone body on the bed before him, he was careful not to rut his hips or jostle his dick around too much.
Joel pressed a hot, stubbled kiss to your cheek, then:
“‘S’it too much, baby? She need a break, maybe?”
Joel thumbed at that space where your body ended and his began and nearly lost his mind to the pearly-white slick that had accumulated with time. Two hours time, he had to remind himself while you moaned and writhed and bucked your ass back. Your cunt was choking him.
Crying, too.
Your eyes flew open the moment his words reached you.
“You kiddin’ me, Miller?! I could do this shit all day.”
Sometimes Joel forgot you were only in your twenties. Really, the thought only occasionally crossed his mind in moments like these—or when your father, his best friend, happened to bring you up—but when it did, it hit him hard. You were young. Lively. Surely far too spry and full of life to be messing around with a man as old as him.
Joel’s guilt ran almost commensurate with his pleasure when he felt you anchor your feet on the bed and start to fuck yourself back and forth over his still-throbbing dick.
Almost.
He planted a hand beside your head and grinned. He let you fuck him. Felt you pull off, crawl up the bed a little, then beckon him back to your body, where your ass was now pointing up and your back was arched in invitation.
Almost.
“You know I can’t sleep without your cum inside me.”
And you made a point to spread your knees and look behind you with a smile as sweet as Milo’s tea, fingers drumming a beat against the bedspread in anticipation.
“You do wanna fill me up, don’t you, daddy?” you teased.
Yeah, no. The guilt was gone. Joel could worry about being a depraved old man when he was done cumming.
Then he was back inside you, driving his hips until every last inch of him was wrapped snug within your wet and velvety embrace, and he sighed. A real protracted one, like the kind he was liable to exhale after climbing two flights of stairs, or else just hoisting himself off the sofa. Or lifting you in his arms and fucking you hard against the hood of his Bronco. Any time. Any place. You were kind enough to oblige him with the best cardio of his life, so the least Joel could do now was make you cum again.
He snatched your hands up in one of his own and placed your wrists at the base of your spine. With his other, free set of fingers he took to rubbing your clit gently.
“SON OF A—”
“—good girl.”
You let out a bloodcurdling scream into your pillow and secretly hoped this man’s dick would never deflate again. Not with the way he was sawing his thing back and forth and dragging you to the edge, circling your clit like you were the single most precious thing in the world to him.
“Oh, sweet pea, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
Like he could feel the tears staining the cushion himself.
“Mmrooonme,” you cried into it, voice garbled by cotton.
“What’s’at, honey? Can’t hear ya.”
Joel then bent at the waist, pretending to be leaning in to hear you better, when really he knew he’d be digging in your guts with that big, bulbous head of his and making you squeal again. Hands still held captive behind you, you inched your chin back on the pillow so your moans could be heard even louder while Joel sped up.
“You— ruined me,” you repeated. Now clear as ever.
Joel tried to hide his smile and glanced down between your body and his. Then, while his ring finger joined the other two to make their tight, light circles, he returned,
“Ruined? Pussy feels just fine t’me.”
You’d kill him if he wasn’t so good at this. You turned your head more to meet his eyes from the corner of yours.
“No. Ruined me. For anyone else.”
Probably forever.
“Good.”
You knew he liked it that way.
You saw it in his eyes. Felt it in his touch. The hefty, broad, and greying Joel Miller had been loafing around on this earth long enough to know how to claim what was his. When his hips knocked yours to lay you flat on the bed, you already knew what was coming next.
First, his arms came to rest on either side of your body.
“Shit,” you whimpered.
Next, his lips went trailing down to your ear.
“Just a little more, sugar—that’s it,” he murmured while his hips sank in, and you felt that big, delicious stretch.
Then he released your hands so they were free to squeeze the sheets, and when they did, his moved over them—lacing his fingers through your own—and his lips pressed a kiss to your jaw. He held you in a tender grasp. His breath was hot on your neck, and the whole of his body was blanketing yours. Joel knew you liked it like that, which is why he made sure not to leave an inch of space in between. He was grunting, rutting, holding you close while his cock drilled a maddening pace inside you.
“You ruined me too, y’know,” he mumbled into your skin.
His nose was flush with the side of your cheek, nudging inward. Begging you to turn your head just a little more so he could kiss you. Weak as you were, you obliged.
And you moaned against that grey, stubbled chin of his when the thrusts above you had your cunt grinding the bed, rubbing that soft and helpless nub on the sheets.
“C’mon— let daddy have it,” he growled, “Let daddy have it and make it his, huh? That okay by you, baby?”
It was.
More than okay, as confirmed by the orgasm that tore through your body moments later while your teeth sank into the flesh of Joel’s lower lip and your cunt clenched and soaked over him whole. Joel wedged his tongue in your mouth and fucked you through it. His broad and callused hands were like iron around your own, holding you tight and keeping you still amidst a maelstrom of pleasure that combed over your every last nerve.
He licked into your mouth. Licked over it. Took the sick and distinct pleasure of knowing no one but him got to see you like this, with your jaw hanging slack and your eyes rolling back and your whines repeating quietly, ‘Daddydaddypleasedaddyfuckohfuckdontstop.’
Maybe ruined wasn’t such a bad thing to be at all.
2K notes · View notes
mrtequilasunset · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media
Unprovoked
5K notes · View notes
fjordline · 10 months
Photo
Tumblr media
since bringing mass murderer of incalculable lives Megatron on board the Lost Light was such a huge success, bringing mentally unstable ancient gladiator Galvatron on board will surely go just as well
6K notes · View notes
serious-goose · 6 months
Text
ed and stede as innkeepers though would be so funny. because they're both insane. so imagine you show up to the inn and ed answers the door in a kiss the cook apron and tells you all about how he's an innkeeper and not a pirate and sometimes a fisherman and an accountant. and that dinner is at 8 and he hopes you like fish because he's cooking fish for dinner ('again' stede adds curtly). and stede shows you to your room and tells you about all the furniture and art in the place and how 'none of it is stolen, if you were wondering'. and there's a lot of erotic merman art in the gift shop. and the place is quaint but you can't sleep because the owners are having fucking buck wild sex downstairs so it makes it hard to make eye contact with them at breakfast.
4K notes · View notes
captorations · 2 years
Text
i wrote a short taz/homestuck crossover back in 2018, just the IPRE crew running into Earth C, and obviously it’s not up to my current standards but i’m still not sure i’ll ever write a joke funnier than this one
right at the beginning:
Tumblr media
and then, lup meeting terezi:
Tumblr media
and finally, right at the end, having had a whole year to investigate:
Tumblr media
25K notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Congratulations to TOS Kirk/Spock shippers, thee original slash fandom that is only getting stronger with time. Let's get this bread in 2024.
Edit: It's annoying the shit out of me that this is circulating with an interpretation I don't think is supported by data (see this), and then I remembered it's my blog and I can be petty if I want to. No more reblogs.
3K notes · View notes
florallvr · 30 days
Text
rafe would have a black L-shaped couch i’m sure of it
warnings / 18+ smut, arm riding, dirty talk, i’m so rusty it’s been so long since i last posted a fic, breeding hinted
Tumblr media
ARQGGWWGWG HES SO FUCKING HOT
“But.. How am I supposed to do that?” you ask, voice a tone higher as Rafe’s request made you a little bit nervous - but curious at the same time.
He relaxed back on the black L-shaped couch, one of his big and strong arms laying relaxed on the arm rest next to him.
“‘S easy baby. Just come up here and straddle my arm, I'll help you.” Rafe smiles - more like a grin though as the filthy pictures of you straddling and riding his arm fills his mind, and he seems too happy for the current nervous situation you’re in. At your shy nod in answer Rafe helps you up with his other big hand on your hip.
He groans deeply at the sight of your wet cunt pressed and pussy lips spreading as you sit down on his veiny arm, your nervous fidgeting causing you to move a little and leaving behind a trail of your wetness. You moan at the sight of it too while looking down, the veins on his arm catching your sensitive clit.
“Look at ya! You’re doin’ amazing babe, just continue grinding your pretty pussy on my arm and you’ll be fine.” he exclaims and you whine, both at what he said and at the good friction your pussy is currently receiving.
“If you carry on bein’ so good you’ll even get to cum.” he begins, “And if you are extra good I’ll even let you have my cock.” Rafe smiles too wide, he even laughs mockingly at your whines that are still bubbling out of you.
He looks down to where you are grinding your cunt down on his arm, moaning quietly when he can quite literally see your little clit pulse.
“Please! Please wan’ your cock now daddy!” you cry, hips stuttering and picking up the pace at the nearing climax that is bubbling in your stomach.
Rafe tuts, hand leaving your hip to come down to give your unprepared ass a few quick slaps, chuckling deeply at the squeals you let out.
“Yeah? Want my cock to fill out your tight cunt? Wanna feel me fill you up with my cock, maybe even breed you?” his dirty questions just keep on coming, causing your mind to become a big mush at just thinking of coming up with an answer for him.
All thoughts leave your mind, however, when his hand settles down on your hip again to help you grind down on his other arm - which he purposely flexes more when he notices the usual hitch in your breath when you are about to cum.
Rafe’s quick to give you the green light, “Cum for me, my dirty girl.”
“Paint my arm in your pretty cum.” As your orgasm comes crashing down on you, painting his arm in your white cream.
1K notes · View notes
sinfullyrosey · 1 month
Text
Y/N, looking at Azul’s baby picture: Oh wow, you were so shaped. So squishy and soft. Full of so much chub to love.
Azul: What are you talking about?? I was a fat, ugly octopus!
Y/N: Fat? Yes. Ugly? No. You were a proper butterball, of whom I would have held and kneaded like dough. Bake you right into an adorable cutiepie.~
Azul: I don’t know what is wrong with your brain and eyes, but I most certainly was not adorable as a kid! Now give me that- *tries to swipe back the picture*
Y/N, dodging him: Nope. You were lovable and round and oh-so baby.~
Azul: I was unlovable! Not like I am now!
Y/N: Oh shut up, that’s just the insecurities and unresolved childhood trauma talking!
Azul: My younger self would ink himself if he saw me now!
Y/N: You peaked in your childhood and will never reach that same level of endearment until you reclaim the chub you so foolishly threw away.
Azul: . . .
Y/N: Your childhood longing is calling, Azul. Answer it.
[Jade and Floyd watching this all go down in the doorway]
Floyd, shoveling popcorn into his mouth: Yeah, Azul, answer it!
Jade: Yes, heed their words, Azul, so that we can partake in your chub too.~
2K notes · View notes
gascreates · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media
^^ infectious
1K notes · View notes
johnwickb1tsch · 1 month
Text
Put your year and your first fandom in the tags!
1K notes · View notes
gutsby · 1 month
Text
Cry, Baby
Tumblr media
Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader
Summary: Joel fucks you to the point of tears. That’s all.
Warnings: 18+. Dacryphilia (kinda). Unprotected p-in-v. Girthy, unspecified age gap. Daddy kink. Jealous Joel.
Notes: Sorry for using pussy pronouns. It will happen again.
Tumblr media
Joel Miller was a man of few words in most every place except the one where he found himself about to beat the brakes off your pussy. Then he never shut the fuck up.
“Uh-huh…just a little more…I know, sweet girl, I know.”
You had your hands at 10 and 2 on the steering wheel of his ‘71 Ford F-100, but rather than driving anywhere, your ass was comfortably parked on the front of his jeans—straddling his lap backwards while you rubbed your half-clad cunt over stonewashed denim. It was hell.
You’d been grinding against the bulge beneath those jeans so hard, and for so long, your white cotton undies had parted to the side, and your pleasure was nearly stretched commensurate with just how pathetic you felt.
Your head dropped between your two hands on the black molded plastic of the wheel, and you let out a whine.
“Joel—”
“Keep goin’.”
“This ain’t fair!”
Without hesitation, the hands that were holding your hips tightened their grip, and now Joel was raking your lower half over his. Rutting your core back and forth.
“You wanna know what ain’t fair?” he seethed.
He didn’t wait for you to answer.
“How much she’s been droolin’ over me all night.”
‘She’ meaning your unfucked cunt, of course.
Joel then punctuated his sentence with a particularly hard press of his palm—forcing you to lay flat on the steering wheel, hips tilted back to him. With just one callused finger of his other hand, he found you soaked between your folds. He dragged it from your clit to your aching hole, and you heard him sigh, as though sad.
“It’s a cryin’ shame,” Joel said. Lamenting.
You were almost lost to the sensation of his finger rubbing you up and down, but somehow, you managed, ‘W-W-What is, Joel?’ in between soft, plaintive sounds.
Sometimes you forgot how much older he was than you. Sometimes you said he was just like the boys your age. Other times he had you pinned like this, breaths calm and cruelly measured while you damn near came apart beneath his hand, and then you remembered everything.
“You just couldn’t wait ‘til we got home,” he grumbled.
Using the same hand he’d been stroking you with, Joel laid a quick slap to your cunt, and you jumped. Your head narrowly missed the roof of his truck; still, you groaned.
“‘M’sorry, Joel,” you keened.
You weren’t. The old man knew you weren’t.
The hand that had been splayed over your back sank in. The force of that push pressed your belly to the chipped Ford logo at the center of the steering wheel, and with the added pressure went the blare of the car’s horn.
The sound might’ve lasted two seconds before you scrambled back, desperate, into Joel’s broad chest. A couple old-timers making their way from the bar to their cars in the parking lot cocked their heads curiously in your direction a couple yards away. Seeing nothing of note, they lost interest just as quick and kept walking.
“Sorry for what?” Joel said.
At the moment, he didn’t seem to notice, or care, that his truck was parked a mere stone’s throw away from the Tipsy Bison, and bar-goers were milling freely between the building and the cars all around you. His belt unbuckled all the same, zip came down in a blink, and his thick, veiny, throbbing, and angry cock came to rest between your cheeks. He started to push you forward.
“Sorry for— for flirtin’ with Tommy,” you stammered, sucking in a breath when you felt him run the head of his cock between your lips. You could hear a soft squelch.
“And Lucien?”
“And Lucien.”
“And—”
“And Dieter, and Frankie, and Javi, and Marcus.”
Rattling off the names of all the men you’d been flirting with at the bar to make Joel jealous and take you back home to fuck you became an embarrassing chant.
“And?”
“…and Mayor Garcia,” you completed, sheepishly.
Back in there, you hadn’t been too proud to stoop to a politician’s level, even. That was how needy you’d been to get attention, and now Joel was giving it to you.
As hard as he could—he didn’t wait for the ‘OK’ before seating you on his cock. You were simply pulled back from the wheel and into his lap, onto his stiff erection, and before you could steady yourself, he started drilling.
“Even through these panties—” Joel tugged at the cream-colored cotton he’d easily slipped past, “—even through that slutty little skirt, I could feel how wet she was.”
Your eyes squeezed shut, and your hands found purchase in the torn-up leather of the seat, fisting strings and patches of fabric in a helpless sort of plea as Joel took over. With the buttons of his dark green flannel searing a stripe down your spine and his grey-speckled chin coming to nudge between your neck and your shoulder as he fucked you, you felt content. Secure.
Spilling more for him, then. Seeping rivers down the length of his shaft as he breached your walls and made you his all over again. And again. Leaving trails of arousal with every thrust, and rolling your head, limply, into his.
“She cryin’ for me?” Joel breathed, “Or somebody else?”
As if on cue, his cock hit the most sensitive ridge inside you, and you felt yourself gush even more. Dripping now.
“You.” Your voice was raw.
“Me?” Joel’s degradingly sweet.
Before you could answer ‘you’ once more, the driver’s door cracked open beside you both. For one panicked, terrifying second, you thought someone from the bar might’ve caught you two—then you were stunned to look over and see it was Joel’s own tough, steel-toed boot that had propped the door open to the cool night air.
The truck was facing the bar’s front door, shielded only by some foliage and a hatchback car about half its size. Other than that, you were exposed to whoever happened to pass by the big, bay window and take a look inside.
Joel felt you tense, and he pressed a kiss to you neck. Then he slid you carefully, almost tenderly, to the left until you were perched over the side of the seat with your legs dangling out of the truck—still filled to the hilt with his cock and pressed tight to the front of his chest.
“Cry a little more,” he urged.
Then, when your pussy gave an involuntary clench and drenched him some more, he slipped a hand around your front and started toying with your clit. Your gaze was wide, almost frightened as you stared ahead at the bar and saw patrons making rounds about the tiny place, fearing one might see you and Joel, but it felt so good. And wrong. And reckless, having this man who was easily decades your senior bouncing you up and down on his cock and letting you soil the front of his Wranglers.
“Pussy’s fuckin’ soakin’ me, pretty girl,” Joel let out a chuckle and gave your shoulder a playful bite when you pulsed around him again, “Squeezin’ me real tight, too.”
It was like your body was beyond your own control. You scarcely even realized your cunt had him gripped with such force, much less made a mess of his old denim. He just held you to him and kept pressing rough, stubbled kisses to your shoulder, reminding you over and over how sweet you were, how well you were taking him, how nice and tight and goddamn pretty that pussy must’ve looked gushing around daddy’s cock—maybe we can fuck in front’a the mirror so we can see it later, huh, baby?
You would’ve said yes to anything he said, you reckoned.
Especially when his arms moved over your front and you felt him grin, and he hugged you while he fucked you—nobody made you feel quite as special while they were splitting you open. Nobody’s balls felt quite as heavy and firm and full while hitting your ass by turns, and certainly no one but Joel could make you cum just as quick when he leaned into your ear and said, ‘Let go for me, darlin’.’
You did, and you felt his warmth follow inside you with the friction of just two more thrusts. Your head fell back on his shoulder, a moan clawed out of your throat, and the warm, euphoric feeling of release washed over your senses in waves, one trembling sensation after the next. Joel’s groans were quick to spill into your own, and, likewise emptying himself, he held your hips to his and made sure every drop stayed right where he wanted it.
His spend was always heavy, but this load felt larger than usual—like he’d been aching to fuck you full of his cum. Just as you both were coming down from your highs, you couldn’t help but key in on that soft, sticky warmth, likely to come oozing as soon as Joel pulled out of you.
In fact, you got to be so focused that you jumped when you felt something press to your cheek a second later.
It took another moment to register it as a kiss from Joel.
Then his tongue, dragging softly up the side of your face.
You started to laugh, about to ask him what the hell he was doing, when you felt a tear slip out of your other eye. With the sudden, sharp influx of pleasure, the moisture had leaked out without you even feeling it. Joel grinned.
He gave your cheek a light squeeze, wiped the other tear with the pad of his thumb, and kissed you again before mumbling in your ear, almost teasing as he said it:
“Crybaby.”
2K notes · View notes