#collection fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

milla-frenchy · 2 months

Text

7 AM

0k8 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 Summary: Joel fucks you by the window, some guy watches you Warnings: 18+ mdni. Exhibitionism, rough sex, dirty talk, piv, creampie. Mention of somnophilia. Reader’s hair can be pulled. No age specified, no outbreak a/n: same couple: 5 days collection, but can be read alone @aurorawritestoescape thank you for beta reading 💕🫶 Gif in the mood board by @pedropascalsx 🙏 Series masterlist | Masterlist

**************

The sun's rays woke you up early, too early for a Sunday. You contemplated going back to sleep, before glancing at Joel. He was snoring softly, lying on his stomach, one leg slightly bent, his face turned towards you. You looked over him, from his tousled curls to his bare back. His arm was hugging the pillow, the sheets were tangled just below his ass. He’d gone out with friends the night before, and had fallen asleep wearing his gray sweatpants.

It was one of the rare nights when he didn’t fuck you before you two went to bed or while you were asleep.

You smiled looking at him and decided to let him rest. You got up and left the bedroom, closing the door behind you. After making yourself some coffee you went to the living room. It was bathed in light. You walked to the window and saw a few people who were already jogging outside. You put your coffee on the windowsill, waiting for it to cool off.

You felt Joel behind you before you heard him, right before he placed his hands on your hips.

“What are you doin’ here, sweetheart?” he asked, his mustache brushing against your ear.

He pressed his crotch against you before you even had time to respond. His morning wood found its place against the crease of your ass, leaving you breathless.

“Mmm?”, he insisted, leaning more against you.

“I…didn’t wanna wake you up.”

“Is that right?”

You felt him pull down his sweatpants, just below his balls. His hard cock sprang free towards the ceiling before he slid it between your thighs with a firm hand on his shaft. He pushed your panties to the side, and grabbed your breasts under his large t-shirt.

“Mmmm…you smell like me”, he murmured.

“Joel…people could see us.”

“Yeah? Shoulda think about it earlier, sweetheart.”

He pressed on your back to bend you further towards the window, and nestled his cock at your entrance. You held your breath. You always loved it when he fucked you without preparation, whether with his fingers or his tongue. The painful second when he thrust in always gave way to long minutes of pleasure when you forgot about everything, except for his shaft ruining your pussy.

When he pushed in, you let out a soft “fuck” biting your lip.

“Yeah, take it, just like that. Good girl.”

He bottomed out, growling, his hands tight on your hips and his gaze down on your ass.

“Shit, this pussy’s barely wet. Poor baby...must be harsh to take this big cock without me spreading you first.”

His pace was slow, but so powerful, that your forehead hit the window each time his cock sank between your folds. He grabbed your hair when you didn’t respond, pulling your head back.

“So cockdumb, when I fuck you raw like that. That’s what you wanted, when you woke up?”

He kissed your neck before nibbling on it, pulling you back against his chest. His hand left your hair to grab a breast and he picked up the pace, thrusting in faster. Then he bent you forward again, making your forehead hit the window, one hand firmly gripping your shoulder for leverage. A jogger passing the house glanced up at your window and slowed down when he saw you.

“Joel!!”

But he neither stopped nor slowed down. He pressed down on the back of your neck, holding you against the window, chasing his orgasm. The stranger was almost walking at that point, watching you two. You slipped your hand into your panties, desperately twirling your clit under your finger.

“Fuck…you’re gonna get off while some guy’s watching you being pounded? Oh, baby…didn’t know you were such a bad girl.”

You couldn’t help but look at the man, now standing in front of the house. There was a smile on your face when the orgasm hit you, your pussy clenching on Joel’s cock. He stopped, buried deep inside your core as his cum spurted over your walls. His eyes were fixed on the man, still watching you.

“Damn it, Joel…”

Once your pussy stopped milking his cock, he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him, tucking his member back into his sweatpants with the other hand.

“What are you doing?”

“You’re gonna ride my face, right now, in bed. And this time you're gonna cum without looking at a damn stranger. Bet he’s gonna jack off when he’ll get home, thinking about this pussy he can’t have.”

You looked out the window one last time. The man readjusted himself before continuing his run.

****************

Same couple: 5 days collection

***************

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring

1K notes · View notes

acourtofchaos · 1 month

Text

MARAUDERS ERA FIC RECS

REMUS LUPIN

BY TIRED HANDS by @luveline

CALM AFTER THE STORM by @angelfic

HIS GIRL by @opalesquegirl

IT'S TIME TO GO | PART TWO | PART THREE by @godlessandwrecked

TAKE A BITE OUT OF MY HEART* by @upsidedownwithsteve

JAMES POTTER

IF I KISS YOU, I'M SORRY

TIME WARP

by @astonishment

IS IT CHILL THAT YOU'RE IN MY HEAD by @boneblushed

WILDEST DREAMS by @pretty-little-mind33

YOU DON'T REALLY LIKE ME, YOU JUST THINK YOU DO by @perpetuallydaydreaming

SIRIUS BLACK

GORGEOUS by @cassiopeiasdaughter

LITTLE LIES* by @amiableness

'CAUSE I DON'T WANT YOU LIKE A BEST FRIEND by @evermoreal

AREN'T PROMISES MEANT TO BE BROKEN by @perpetuallydaydreaming

RIGHT WHERE I WANT TO BE by @appocalipse

REGULUS BLACK

DARLING, YOU LOOK DIVINE* by @theostrophywife

SECOND SON by @cherryslyce

HOW EMBARRASSING by @ellecdc

POSSESSIVE

INFATUATION

by @r0mantic-f00l

TENSION* | PART TWO* by @mysticmoaning

*indicates smut

#fic recs #just a little collection of my faves #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #regulus black x reader #remus lupin #james potter #sirius black #regulus black #marauders era fic recs

2K notes · View notes

florallvr · 1 month

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

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.

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks smut #obx smut #i just got reminded i had this old fic collecting dust that i thought hmm that would fit rafe tbh

1K notes · View notes

chahnniesroom · 4 months

Text

for richer, for poorer

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: gift giving has always been something you've agonised over. for chan, just having you in his life is enough.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: insecurities (especially related to finances), feeling anxious, hurt/comfort

a/n: i know it’s still a long time until october, but i didn't write it in time to fit as like a holiday related fic. formatted this on my phone bc i'm lazy so please let me know if anything looks weird!

bonus: minho's reaction to his gift (included as a reblog of this post)

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

Gift giving has always been something that you agonised over. You wanted so desperately to get something meaningful and special that nothing you ended up getting seemed special enough.

So when Felix had proposed throwing both Chan and Minho a party for their birthdays, you were more than happy to help plan. You could see that Chan had hesitated when Felix had told them about it, but he had ultimately agreed when he saw the way Minho had seemed to perk up at the idea.

It wouldn’t be anything too big, Felix promised, just inviting some close friends to have dinner and hang out. It slowly balloons into more than a simple dinner, but the opportunities for the members to have their friends gather are so rare that you swallow your concerns.

The night of, you can’t help feeling a bit nervous. You recognise almost everyone, but that's the part that scares you - you've only seen most of these people through your phone screen before. You know Chan and Minho have a lot of idol friends, but you didn't realise there would be so many at the party. You had discussed the guest list with Felix briefly, but your concern had been about the number of guests and not who they actually were. Now you’re starting to regret it, you aren’t mentally prepared to be face to face with so many celebrities.

The time passes surprisingly quickly with people trickling in as the night goes on. Dinner is casual, you’ve helped to cook a number of dishes and takeout was ordered to fill the rest of the counter. There isn’t enough proper seating so everyone is spread throughout the kitchen and living room.

You spend most of the time just wandering through and making sure that there’s no shortage of drinks, appetizers, and that the empty dishes or cups are cleared away. Of course, you greet everybody as they arrive and thank them for coming, but it’s hard not to be intimidated by all the famous faces.

Eventually Changbin drags the birthday boys to the living room, standing them in front of the TV to open gifts. Everyone else either crams themselves onto the couches, sits on the floor, or loiters closer to the doors.

Chan insists that he open presents at the same time as Minho instead of one at a time like Jisung suggests. Someone pushes a couple of matching boxes into their hands and steps away.

It's almost comical how different they open them. Chan takes his time, carefully pulling apart the ribbon that's wrapped around the box, sliding the lid off and putting it to the side, then slowly peeling aside the tissue paper. Minho on the other hand, manages to pull the ribbon off the box without untying it and flips the box to shake off the lid and reveal the contents.

They're complementary hoodies in the casual and oversized fit that the boys usually go for. You recognize the brand, have seen the members wear it on more than one occasion, and know that they most likely cost the same as your monthly salary.

The next gifts seem fairly innocuous, a beanie for Chan and a baseball cap for Minho, but you know their pieces often go for over a million won, more than you’ve ever spent on a single clothing item.

It continues on like this, the boys receiving items like music equipment, alcohol, and sunglasses. It makes you swallow hard when you think of your own, mostly handmade gift.

Maybe the worst part is that nobody else at the party even blinks an eye at it. You can’t blame them, it’s the nature of their occupation that has gotten them desensitised to being surrounded by luxury and it’s not like they can’t afford to indulge in getting more expensive things.

When you look down, wanting to stop staring at the pile of opened gifts, you see that you've partially crushed the packaging of your own gift. It already looked shabby enough, it was obvious you had wrapped it yourself and the paper you used was from the supermarket, but now it was even worse.

When you try to smooth out the crinkles, your shaky fingers somehow make it ruin it more. You bite your lip, hard, then stop, self conscious about your appearance around all these idols.

It suddenly feels cramped and too warm, sweat starting to gather on your forehead and back. The room starts to spin slightly and you become overly aware of your heart beating in your chest.

A burst of laughter from the crowd spooks you, pulling you out of your head. You use the opportunity to get to your feet and excuse yourself. You slip away as quietly as you can and breathe a sigh of relief when you make it into Chan's room without anyone following you.

You don’t bother to turn on the lights, not wanting anyone to check up on you, and sit on the ground with your back against Chan’s bed. With the door closed, the noise from the party is muffled and it’s significantly colder in this area of the dorm. You press your hands to your face and take a few deep breaths to try and calm your heart rate.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you because you know you shouldn’t feel like his. You had been looking forward to watching Chan and Minho open their gifts, you had spent a lot of time preparing them and you had felt confident that they would enjoy them.

Well, until you saw everything else that they received.

Now your ideas just seemed silly. You feel humiliated at the thought of everybody seeing the obviously cheap gifts and even worse when you consider how ashamed Chan might be for others to know that you were his partner.

Although you were working full-time at the moment, you had only graduated from university last year and your student debt was an ever present weight on your shoulders that you tried your best to hide. Everything you had went to paying it back and checking in bi-weekly to see the number get smaller and smaller was the only thing that made you feel better.

Chan knew that you often worried about money. You had been mortified the first time that he had walked in on you trying to organise your finances for the next few months. He had glanced over your shoulder before you had even realised he was in the room and all the red cells showing where you were in a deficit were hard to miss.

It had been early on in your relationship and the dates that the two of you had been on as well as a couple unforeseen events had meant that you had been spending way more than what you had anticipated. Of course, Chan had treated you on a number of occasions, but you refused sometimes because you felt guilty every time he offered to pay, especially since it had been only a couple years after his debut.

He had been more than understanding, but you had been so embarrassed and caught off guard that you couldn't stop the tears from streaking down your face. Since then, Chan and the members had never done anything to make you feel like they pitied you or thought any less of you for your financial situation, in fact they did the opposite.

When you had first started visiting the dorms, opening the food delivery apps was like a reflex for all of the boys once it was dinnertime. You were always hesitant to choose anything and felt even worse by the nonchalant way that they covered the costs each time. Even though you knew they didn’t think anything of it, you couldn’t help but feel like you were taking advantage of their hospitality.

Somehow they caught on to your reluctance to buy food and now it's tradition that you cook for them when you come over, enough so that they keep the kitchen stocked with more than ramen, chicken breasts, and protein powder.

In particular, Minho absolutely loved your cooking and had needled you many times on sharing how you made it. You had always denied him though, saying that you didn't use exact measurements and came up with things on the fly. That’s why for his gift, you had taken the time to create a recipe book, complete with pictures for each step and modifications that he could make based on the ingredients he had.

You had spent a few months thinking about what to give Chan. He was harder to shop for since you knew he wasn't overly fond of celebrating his birthday and didn’t want you to spend money on him, but was always touched when you got him something. Usually, you tried to do something he was more likely to accept.

Last year, you had organised with the company to give Chan a day off and had taken him out to a movie. It was a pretty standard date, but the two of you rarely had the opportunity to go out together and you knew Chan had resigned himself to watching the movie when it was released online instead of going to the theatres like he had hoped to. Having to spend a few days trying to sort out all the logistics of secretly rearranging Chan’s schedule had been more than worth it with the way that his face had lit up when you had told him about what you had planned.

You don't know how long you sit alone, but every time that you tell yourself to get up and rejoin the party, it feels impossible to move.

“Hey,” Chan's voice is cautious, but you startle anyway, scrambling to stand up. Stuck in your thoughts, you hadn’t even noticed him entering the room. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Just needed some air, it was getting kind of stuffy in there,” you explain. “I didn't think you'd notice.”

“Of course I noticed. You were there one second and gone the next, I didn't know what happened.”

“It’s nothing.” You avoid Chan’s gaze, not wanting to see the concern that shines in his eyes.

Chan steps closer, then reaches out and tangles your fingers together, using your connection to pull the two of you to sit on the bed.

“Y/n, baby,” he says softly. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in here.” He leans forward until the side of his head bumps into yours.

“It’s-”

“Don’t say it’s not important,” he warns. “It’s important to you and that makes it important to me, okay?”

“Uhm,” you pause for a moment, unsure of how you want to word your thoughts. You trust Chan, but it still feels scary being vulnerable. “I guess, I was just feeling… Insecure.”

“Insecure?” Chan tilts his head slightly. “About what?”

“Everyone-” you laugh slightly, embarrassed. “Everyone gave you guys such nice gifts, I feel like mine don’t even compare.”

“Y/n, you know I don’t care about that kind of thing. If I had the choice, nobody would be giving me gifts at all. Just having you in my life is enough.” Chan’s voice is painfully sincere.

“I know you don't mind. It just- It feels bad that I can't give you something nice like they can. It's dumb, I know, but I can't help it.”

“I can open it here, away from everyone else if you want,” Chan offers. “Or you don't even have to give it to me today, you can save it until you feel better. Or don't give it to me at all, it's all okay.”

“No no, I want you to have it,” you say immediately. Before you can think better of it, you reach down and retrieve the gift from where you left it on the floor.

“Whatever makes you feel comfortable,” Chan reassures you.

“This is fine,” you decide. “Just the two of us."

“Okay.”

“It’s not designer,” you say suddenly, fiddling with the ribbon that keeps the two packages together. Both of you ignore the fact that you’re just stalling at this point.

“I don’t need any more clothes, I barely wear everything I own now,” Chan jokes.

“Really, you might not like it,” you warn.

“Baby, when have I ever disliked anything that you’ve gotten for me?” Chan drops the teasing tone. You think for a moment.

“When you asked me to order noodles for you and I accidentally got you the spicy version and it made you cry?”

“Did I say that I didn’t like them?”

“No, you ate it all even though I warned you that it would make your stomach hurt for the next couple of days,” you say, smiling faintly at the memory.

You had gotten yourself the same dish and had found it to be bearable, while Chan’s face had turned bright red after the first bite. You had offered a few times to get him a non-spicy version so that he could enjoy himself, but he had been determined to finish, soaking his shirt and beanie with how much he had sweated. He hadn’t even been able to continue carrying a conversation with you, too busy trying to suck in air to cool his mouth.

It had been even funnier for you the next day, receiving multiple texts from Chan about his stomach hurting and having to continually pause dance practice to go to the bathroom.

“The pain was worth it,” Chan insists. “I'm actually convinced that I'll like anything you give me. Now come on, let me open my gifts!”

You hand over the gift and watch as he pulls away the ribbon to separate the boxes and peels away the tape on the first package. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he tries not to rip the wrapping paper.

This gift was more neutral, a set that contained a wallet and cardholder, both in black. Although Chan hadn’t complained at all, the wallet he had been using was from years ago and the synthetic material was starting to crack and flake away at the edges.

He looks delighted, examining it briefly before pulling out his old wallet and transferring all his cards and cash into this new one. Although it’s not a name brand, you had purchased it at a small shop specialising in handcrafted genuine leather goods at a surprisingly affordable price. It was good quality and suited the simplicity that Chan preferred.

“It's just what I needed,” he says, sounding pleased. “You pay so much attention.”

“I'm glad you like it,” you say, feeling relieved even though you had been pretty sure that he would be happy with it.

The unease comes back when he turns his attention to the second gift. Once again, he puts in effort to gently unwrap it, revealing an old chocolate box that you had repurposed from one of your dates.

You’ve always been on the more sentimental side and had saved it, wanting to remember the evening that Chan had taken you out and the two of you had spent 20 minutes in the shop, meticulously picking out the flavours that you wanted to try. The box is made of a surprisingly durable material and is the perfect size for this gift. You’ve painted over it too, concealing the original design.

Chan turns it around in his hands curiously, before sliding the lid up. You turn away to stare at your hands, overwhelmed by nervousness.

You already know what’s inside. It’s a deck of cards that you’ve transformed, with 52 things I love about you inscribed on one of the jokers. On the flip side, you’ve painted a picture of you and Chan smiling widely with your cheeks pressed together. It’s his favourite, one he always tells you would be permanently on his lock screen if he wasn’t an idol.

The rest of the cards are decorated similarly, a small drawing or painting on one side with the things, people, and places that Chan loves on one side, and something that you love about Chan on the other. The last joker is the only one that's different, you've treated it as a card and have a small message written on.

You had been so excited when you had thought of the idea, even though it was almost embarrassingly cheesy. Chan was often hard on himself, overly critical, and sometimes insecure. You tried your best to reassure him that he was doing well, both in his career and personal life, but you weren’t always able to be with him to do it in person.

As time goes by, your dread just continues to build, but you don't dare look up, not wanting to see Chan's reaction. Based on the silence, he’s clearly not thrilled with the silly idea that you had gone with. You can almost imagine his expression, jaw clenched and lips pressed together as he tries to think of what he can say to let you down easy.

Finally, you can't take it any longer and you lean forward, reaching out to grab at the cards that he's still reading though.

“I'm sorry, it's stupid, I know,” you say quickly. “You can tell me that you hate it, it's okay. I don't know what I was thinking, but just- give me more time, I'll get you something else, something nicer-”

It catches Chan off guard, and instead of successfully taking the cards away, you grapple with them for a second before they slip between both of your hands, scattering across the floor like confetti.

You instantly drop to your knees, scrabbling to scoop them up like the most awful game of 52 pick up that you've ever played in your life. To your horror, the task gets even more difficult as tears start to well up in your eyes.

“Y/n-” Chan says gently, reaching out and taking your wrists in his hands to stop your frantic movements. “Come here.”

You resist for a moment, but he pulls you into his arms, cradling your head so your face is resting on his shoulder. The tears leaking from your eyes soak into the fabric and you sniffle softly.

“I'm sorry,” you say, voice partially muffled. “I'm a mess.”

In response, Chan pulls back slightly and when you don't turn towards him, he taps a finger against your cheek until you face him. Your eyes widen when you notice that he also has tear tracks streaking down his face.

“What-”

“It's okay, I'm a mess too. I should have said it sooner,” he says, voice low and gravelly. Still in his embrace, you can feel the rumble of it in his chest. “I love it. I was overwhelmed, I wanted to say something but you left me speechless.”

“Don't just say it-”

“I've never had a gift so thoughtful, Y/n,” Chan says earnestly. “How could you think this was stupid? You must have spent hours and hours on it and I really appreciate it. It’s just- is this really what you think of me?”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Do you really love that-” Chan picks up the closest card to him and flips it so that he can read the message. “That I snore? Y/n, why do you even have this in the list?”

“Yes, snoring was one thing and it's because with everything, there’s always a reason to love it. It's not that I love that you snore, but with your insomnia, hearing you snore is a relief because it means you're sleeping, that you're resting. Even with your insomnia, I know you're busy thinking of every little way you can make things just right for you and the members. It's because you care so much, how could I not love these parts of you?”

“You- you really love all these little things?”

“Of course I do,” you say in a hushed voice. “Of course. When I was making these, I couldn't fit it all. I love everything about you, Chan.”

This time, it's Chan that breaks eye contact, shaking his head as if in disbelief.

“I don't know what I did to deserve you.”

“It's not about deserving. You didn't have to do anything, that's the whole point. I love you just as you are.”

“You know that's how I feel about you, right?”

“Chan-”

“Even if you never got me anything ever again, I wouldn't love you any less. You being in my life, by my side, that's the greatest gift you could ever give.”

till death do us part collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

2K notes · View notes

corroded-hellfire · 4 months

Note

no bc cockwarming with older!eddie is soooooooo

Oh I agree 100%. It’s something I need in my life but I guess I’ll have to settle for only having it in writing. Older!eddie my beloved 😍

Warnings: older!eddie, smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m receiving, cockwarming, brat and brat tamer

Words: 3.3k

Eddie was never a sports fan. Never interested him, never played nor watched. His needing to be home to watch a game had never been an issue you’d had to deal with in your relationship. So, when the day comes that Eddie is more focused on something that’s on the television than you, you’re not having it.

It’s a Saturday night and the two of you had finished off the pizza that you’d ordered, and you’d gone to take a shower. Halfway through your time spent in the steam, you start to feel a little lonely and wish your boyfriend would join you. Calling his name a few times doesn’t seem to work, even though the walls are thin in his trailer. With a pout, you step out of the shower and wrap a fuzzy towel around your body. Still dripping little droplets of water on the carpet, you pad down the hallway to see where your man is. Nothing Else Matters is coming from the television, and you find Eddie sitting on the couch with a beer in his hand. You’ve heard enough Metallica through him to know that’s what’s on the tv, but you’re not sure what he’s so transfixed on.

“Whatcha watching, baby?” you ask.

His eyes flit briefly over to you before returning to the screen. “Metallica documentary.”

“Oh.” You take a few steps closer to the couch and cock your head to the side. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you?”

“Hmm? Oh, no. You okay?” Eddie’s words are very monotone. You don’t doubt that there’s real concern for you there, but he couldn’t sound less enthusiastic if he tried.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted some company,” you say coyly. There’s no reaction from your boyfriend. Figuring you’ll make it plain as day for him, you drop your towel, leaving your naked body on full display. He turns his head towards you, his eyes staying on the television until the last moment, then flickering your way as well. Arching an eyebrow, Eddie pats his jean-clad thigh and looks back to the television. It’s not exactly the reaction you were looking for, but you’ll take it.

You stroll over to him and perch yourself in his lap. His hands rest on your hips, but he tries to look around you at the television. Your gaze is trained on him, not quite a glare but only a skosh softer. Eddie either doesn’t notice the way you’re looking at him or he doesn’t care. So, you rest your hands on his shoulders and gently press your nails into his t-shirt covered skin, adding pressure bit by bit until he frowns and meets your eye.

“Ow, babe,” he says. “What was that for?”

“You haven’t looked at me once since I sat in your lap. Am I bothering you?” It’s hard to keep the snark out of your voice, even though you’re aware you sound like a petulant child.

“No,” Eddie says with a soft sigh. “I just want to watch this documentary. I haven’t seen it, and you know Metallica is my favorite.”

A groan tumbles from your lips as you drop your head forward and rest it on his shoulder. Cold water drips from your hair onto his neck, sending a shiver throughout his body.

“You want a blanket?” he asks.

His words have you jolting upright and, this time, full-out glaring at him.

“You want me to cover up?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Eddie says, suppressing an eye roll – he knows it will only make it worse. “You just got out of the shower, aren’t you cold?”

“A little,” you say. “So warm me up.”

“Babe, this is over in an hour, can we just–”

“Fine.” You move to get off his lap, but his large hands keep you pinned in place. The overly cheerful voice of a woman trying to sell some new workout video comes from behind you and it makes you huff. “So now that there’s a commercial you’ll pay attention to me?”

“You’re being a real brat, you know that?”

Your eyebrows pull together as you frown at him. “I just want to get some lovin’ from my boyfriend.”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie says with a sigh. “So desperate for my cock, huh? Be a good girl then, get on your knees.”

With how fast and hard your knees hit the threadbare carpet in the living room, Eddie suspects you’ll either have bruised knees or rug burn. But you don’t seem to mind one bit as you stare up at him with wide, eager eyes. Your hands immediately fly to Eddie’s belt, and you’ve undone that and his zipper in the short few seconds it took Eddie to lift his hips so you could slide his jeans and boxers down.

It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen it—or stroked it, licked it, sucked it, had it inside of you, etc—the sight of Eddie’s cock still gets you immediately wet. The promise of the pleasure that he’s going to bring you.

Being eye level with Eddie’s semi-hard cock has you licking your lips in greedy anticipation. Not able to wait one moment more, you lean forward and wrap your hand around the base of Eddie’s cock. His pubic hair brushes against the side of your hand with every stroke.

You push yourself up on your knees so you can let some saliva drip down onto Eddie’s cock, making it easier for you to work your hand over it. A groan slips from your lips as you eye the bead of precum gathering on the tip.

As if based purely on primal instinct, you lean in and run your tongue flat over the head. Eddie’s thighs tense around your head as you savor the salty tang that coats your tongue.

You’re tempted to tease Eddie but with him already accusing you of acting like a brat, he might not let you suck him off. It’s been the toughest torture you’ve ever had to bear when Eddie makes you watch him get off all on his own.

Not willing to take that risk, you engulf the head of his cock in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. One of Eddie’s hands rests on the back of your hair, not pushing, just lying there. It puts enough weight on your head to make you sink a little further down on his cock.

“Good girl,” Eddie drawls out.

The praise does nothing to help the wetness that feels as if it will drool down your legs any second. You bob your head, taking a little more of him in each time you go down. Tears annoyingly pool in your eyes and you blink a few times to get them to roll down your cheeks; nothing is going to distract you from giving Eddie the best head you can. Just as you’re about to take him into your throat, Eddie’s fingers dig into your hair, rings lightly scraping against your scalp, and he pulls you off of him.

A whine of protest reflexively flies out of your mouth at the loss. Your brain hardly has time to wonder why your boyfriend pulled you off of him before he tugs your head backwards so you’re looking up at him. His attention is not on you though, it’s back on the television that you hear once again playing music you recognize as Metallica’s. Eddie is looking straight ahead, not sparing you a glance as you pout up at him.

“Get up here,” he orders as he drops your hair.

“What?” you ask. Using the back of your hands you wipe the tear streaks from your cheeks and the saliva that managed to leak out of your mouth.

“Get. Up.”

You push yourself up on unsteady legs and Eddie groans in irritation as you block his view of the television. A strong hand grips your naked waist and pulls you forward until you’re tumbling into his lap.

“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Eddie’s voice is low and husky, the dominance in it sending a shiver down your spine. “You’re going to sit on my cock and keep quiet until this show is over. If you’re good, maybe you’ll get rewarded. If you’re a brat, you can get yourself off tonight. Understood?”

“Yes, Eddie,” you reply, hardly above a whisper.

Making sure to lean your torso to the side to keep out of his way, you straddle Eddie’s hips and reach behind you to line his cock up with your entrance. Slowly, you start to sink down on him, the initial stretch leading you to let out a low moan.

“Shhh,” Eddie chastises, never taking his eyes from the flickering screen behind you.

Teeth gnash into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood to keep yourself from making any other noises. Tense fingers dig into Eddie’s black t-shirt clad shoulders as you fully seat yourself on his lap. After you’ve given yourself a moment to adjust, you start to lift yourself up again, but Eddie immediately slams you back down.

A sharp whine is forced out of you, and you grip the cotton material of Eddie’s shirt in your fists.

“Wha—” you start to ask but Eddie cuts you off.

“You’re going to sit here, completely still. You’re not going to move around or make a sound.”

You drop your head forward and rest your forehead on Eddie’s shoulder as you let out a small whimper. This is pure torture. Being so close to everything you want, but not allowed to rock your hips to make the dream a reality.

Metallica music continues to play behind you and when you glance up at the older man, he has his entire focus on the show. You almost slip up and let out an irritated groan, but you know you’ll regret it if you do.

A few minutes pass by but it feels like an eternity as you just sit there, half listening to the loud metal music coming from behind you as you slump against Eddie’s body. Just as a song comes to an end and yet another journalist begins to talk on camera, Eddie’s hips shift, causing him to move inside of you. The unexpected jolt has you gasping and burying your face into Eddie’s neck.

“Relax, I’m just making myself comfortable,” he says.

You highly doubt that but keep your thoughts to yourself as you try to calm your body down again. Eddie’s a little shit and you’d put money on this being only the first time he messes with you, looking to see how far he can push before you push back. Sure enough, just as you’ve let your guard down and let your mind wander, there’s a sharp smack to your ass. The sting makes you jump, and Eddie’s hands instinctively move to your waist to steady you.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “My hand slipped.”

He’s full of shit and you both know it. Eddie’s playing dirty now and you have to think of a counterattack. Anything too obvious and he’ll make both of you get yourselves off tonight, so it has to be subtle.

Moving slowly so as to not interrupt his television time, you curl against his chest so he can feel it when you expand your lungs and let out a silent yawn against his neck. As you yawned though, there may have been clenching of your walls around his dick. You feel more than hear the growl that reverberates through his chest. Now when you bite your lip it’s to keep the smile off your face.

You peer over at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall and see that this documentary should be over in about fifteen minutes. So close yet so far. The chill from your still wet skin is starting to settle in as well, which is going to make this quarter of an hour tick by even slower.

Thankfully, the end of the show has some of the Metallica songs you’re more familiar with, so it gives you something to listen to while you wait for this test of wills to be over. With five minutes left you feel yourself getting antsy. Eddie just said until the documentary was over, right? Does that mean the second it’s done he’s going to start fucking you like you’ve been craving for what feels like hours now? Or will he be a prick some more and pretend like he doesn’t know what you’ve been waiting for this whole time. You’d place your bets on the second option. Eddie never turned down an opportunity to be a pain in the ass.

The last song fades out and the show is over. You immediately sit up and look at Eddie with wide eyes. You did it. You had done what he asked of you and now you get your reward, right? Right?

As nonchalantly as you’ve ever seen him, he raises his arms up over his head to stretch out his back and abdominal muscles. Usually, you’d take the opportunity to stare at his tummy when his shirt rode up, but with his cock literally inside of you it feels like a moot point.

“Eddie,” you say. It’s not quite a whine, more like a poke—a nudge.

“Yes?”

He was going to drive you insane one of these days.

“It’s over, right?”

“It is.”

“So…?” you trail off.

“So, it was pretty good. Wish they had more metal documentaries like that.”

You’re two seconds away from putting your hands around Eddie’s throat—and not in the way he sometimes likes.

“And I was good too, right?” You’re practically batting your eyelashes at him, and it takes Eddie a moment to compose himself enough not to laugh.

“I guess you were.”

“So…” you drawl as you lean in to press soft kisses against the side of his neck. “Do I get my reward then?”

“What is it that you wanted, baby? Was it this?” Eddie rolls his hips up against yours and your eyes flutter closed at the feeling.

“Y-Yes,” you manage. “Need you, Eddie.”

“God, I love when you get all needy for my cock. Should I make you beg for it?”

He knows you will if he demands it. Eddie enjoys moments like this when he’s in full control, knowing you’ll do whatever he wants. That his cock drives you so wild that you become putty in his hands. It makes a nice change since in every other aspect of your relationship you have him wrapped around your little finger.

“Please, please, Eddie,” you whine, fingers grasping at the front of his t-shirt.

Eddie takes in your pouted lips and your widened eyes. He can’t help but smile at how utterly adorable you are; but somehow still the sexiest woman he’s ever met.

“Alright, baby,” Eddie finally acquiesces. He reaches up and cups your cheek in his hand. Slowly and delicately, Eddie swipes his thumb right below your bottom eyelid. “Take what you want.”

The permission unlocks an energy reservoir you weren’t aware you had as you place your hands on Eddie’s shoulders for balance and push yourself up, almost letting his cock slip out. But at the last moment you lower yourself back down, the two of you moaning in tandem as he bottoms out again. You set a relentless pace as you begin to bounce on his cock. Eddie’s eyes hungrily watch your tits as they bounce along with you, providing your boyfriend with double the pleasure.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans and drops his head back against the couch. Teasing you was definitely worth it with the way you’re taking his cock for all its worth.

Your hands move up Eddie’s shoulder and slide around to tangle your fingers at the dark curls at the base of his skull.

“This what you wanted, huh?” Eddie asks and pauses to catch his labored breath. He can feel how wet you are and that tells him this is exactly what your goal was. “Needed to have me deep inside of you.”

“So deep,” you mutter with a nod.

“Mm, what would you do without me, baby?” Eddie taunts, lifting his hands to massage your breasts.

“God, I would die.”

Eddie chuckles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Nobody could make you feel as good as I do. I know.”

��Uh huh,” you pant.

Eddie notices your movements becoming slower, the strength draining from your body. Persistent woman that you are, you keep going, moving up and down to take what you want. One of Eddie’s arms snakes around the small of your back and the other comes up to cup your cheek.

“Hey, I’ve got you,” he says softly. Eddie turns to lay you down on the weathered couch and slides an old throw pillow beneath your hips. A loud whine of protest comes from deep in your chest when Eddie slips out of you as your positions change. “Love how desperate you get for me. Only me who gets to see you wrecked like this. So fuckin’ hot.”

As Eddie pushes himself back into your soaked, throbbing pussy your whines turn much more pleasurable. Your boyfriend holds onto the arm of the couch behind your head and uses the leverage to piston his hips.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you cry.

“Too much?” Eddie teases, slowing his hips. “Should I stop?”

“Fuck, no.”

A cocky smirk grows on the older man’s face, a breathy chuckle coming from him at your vociferous reply. His hips pick up speed again, just as eager to please you as you are to be pleased. The arm that isn’t holding him steady against the couch runs over your tits, up your neck, and his fingers meet your lips.

“Open.”

You let your jaw drop, letting Eddie slip his middle and forefinger into your mouth. Just as you did to his cock before, you swirl your tongue around the digits, the feeling of something in your mouth only making you feel that much fuller. Reluctantly, you let Eddie move his hand when he starts to pull away, but not before letting your bottom teeth gently graze against the pads of his fingers.

Eddie’s hand dips down between your bodies and rubs tight circles over your clit. The added stimulation has your muscles tightening, that familiar buildup soaring in you. Your right hand clutches Eddie’s arm, the grip hard enough to leave bruises that will linger for the next few days.

“Eddie, fuck.”

“That’s right. Cum for me, princess.”

“W-Wanna cum with you.”

He dips down and trails hot kisses from your chin, all the way down your throat.

“You’ve been naked for the past hour,” he mumbles against your sweat covered skin. “Never mind how long I’ve been inside of you. You really think I’m gonna be able to last much longer? Come on, baby. Cum for me.”

The urging is all you need before letting your orgasm wash over you, back arching off the couch, and pressing your tits against Eddie’s shirt. The clenching and fluttering of your walls around him has Eddie following right after you, spilling into you and filling you up. Wanting to make sure you take every single drop, Eddie fucks his cum into you even after his orgasm begins to wane.

The weight of Eddie’s body pressing on top of yours is exactly what you need in the moments as your bliss fades away. Contentment fills the both of you as you breathe together, both sweaty and satiated. Eddie uses the last of the energy he has left to lift his head and press a few kisses to your shoulder.

“I love you,” you whisper, reaching up to move some of the hair that’s sticking to his face. “I’d apologize for being a brat, but it turned out to work pretty damn well.”

“You are a brat but I’m good at handling it,” Eddie says with a soft smile. “And I love you too.”

“I feel like I need another shower,” you say, your sticky skin feeling attached to Eddie’s.

He looks up at you with those doe eyes and a cocky smile.

“Want some company?”

#eddie munson #older!eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #request #roses collection

1K notes · View notes

bamsara · 6 months

Note

Hey

is solar lunacy discontinued?

Nah I just stopped sharing the chapters publicly because people were being weirdly hostile about my update schedule, so rn the only people who's seen the updates is myself plus one other person. I'll prob continue to wait to share the writing tbh until I feel like its chilled out more

#so same thing that happened with ceatpeotw and the j/eremike collection and my old fnaf au if anyone remembers that #i still have the chapters just sitting there #i think my dst aus and fics were the only ones that i didnt recieve weird messages for updates for #and i think back on those series fondly #still would like to continue it #also its perfectly 100% okay to send me asks about iz or sl or dst stuff btw just because i am not updating the fic #does not mean i dont still have a love for it sdhgsldg

3K notes · View notes

destinationtoast · 1 year

Text

Toastystats: Goncharov on AO3

The fandom for this 1973 film has seen a surprising resurgence as we near the movie's 50th anniversary. While the Tumblr fandom is especially active, I thought I'd take a quick peek at activity over on AO3. Keep in mind, of course, that because this was an older film, many more fanworks may have been posted shared in zines, or in early internet websites or mailing lists. I don't know how many of those have migrated over to AO3.

(Note: I grabbed this data just over 2 hours ago, and in the meantime, 18 new fanworks have been posted! These stats are based only on the first 40 works.)

Also viewable as Google Slides. Data is here; thanks to Flamebyrd's AO3 Work Stats bookmarklet for the fast data scrape.

(P.S. If you're confused by this, see here, or here -- where I made my original threat (in the tags) to do fandom stats.)

#goncharov #fandom stats #toastystats #ao3 #unreality #i am a goof #but really #fandom is collectively a goof #50 #100 #500 #1K #btw the fic and stats are real!#only tagged unreality for the movie #5K

10K notes · View notes

iamanoccasionaldoodler · 1 year

Text

I think the thing that feels really revolutionary about Gideon Nav's lesbianism is that she's not a lesbian in opposition to anything. She doesn't like women instead of men. It's just that her entire sexual world is female.

A lot of time having a gay character seems to necessitate a scene in which they confirm emphatically that they do not like the opposite gender. Gideon doesn't need to do that. She just talks about women all the time (and, lesbian character who is openly and unashamedly horny and actively pursuing women in general outside of once-in-a-lifetime romance, that's its own post entirely) and the absence of any mention of men makes it obvious that she's not interested in them.

And, as a queer person constantly having to explain WHY I don't want this or that, it's really refreshing to see a queer character who is so totally focused on what they DO want and not what they don't.

#gideon nav #gideon the ninth #the locked tomb #also p.s. pyrrha is also a lesbian she's literally exactly as lesbian-coded as gideon we all just collectively misread that part of htn #and by part i mean literally there is only one line which ever suggests they were together and several which imply strongly they weren't #L #the pyrrha/gideon/wake fics were spicier when we thought pyrrha and gideon had been in love i admit #but it was a simple case of lesbian/himbo symbiosis #and pyrrha and gideon having the exact same taste in women is actually extremely funny

4K notes · View notes

wandasaura · 2 months

Text

GOLD THATS IN YOUR EYES

summary — you’ve known natasha romanoff since she first defected to shield, but it’s taken you years to realize that you’ve loved her since then too

warning(s) — fluff, mentions of the ohio mission, hurt/comfort

prompt — finding excuses to be alone with each other x noticing their individual quirks

song — mood ring by kira kosarin

🌞⊹ ˚ . 18+, men/minors dni ⁺ 𓈒 ꒰🧺꒱ 🌷 ･ mommy maximoff ✧

Natasha Romanoff was not a very sociable person, in fact, she was quite the opposite. Most people would be surprised to learn that the infamous ex assassin was admittedly somewhat of an introverted homebody, preferring the chosen silence of isolation over bustling crowds where judgment ran wild. For a woman with such a bold way about her, she was admittedly rather soft. She was soft in the way she moved around the kitchen when nobody was around to watch her frolic through cabinets on the balls of her feet, arches deep and perfect, and heels exquisitely raised above the floorboards. She was soft in the way she spoke, too. Her words were always calculated, always direct, and blunt enough to be chalked up to dry humor, but if you listened closely, if you closed your eyes and let the weight of her spoken sentence weigh on your heart in the way she’d never intended for anybody to actually do, you’d notice the soft hitch to her tone that was endearingly Russian, and the way her nose twitched whenever she wasn’t sure how a comment would be received by the masses. Natasha Romanoff was a lot of things, but an arrogant agent was not one of them; not that she’d ever admit that.

You supposed that she felt a crippling need to assert herself as if she were in a position of calculated authority. Some could say that she was in a stance of power, having been deemed not only a level six agent but also an Avenger by time she was twenty-nine, yet even with the moniker of being the only reformed Black Widow to escape Dreykov’s grasp, Natasha was never the authoritarian she prided herself on being when others were around. Granted, you were never one to challenge the way she raised her chin when she was at the center of a room full of men, and you were never one to comment on how her shoulders squared defensively whenever someone took a step to close for comfort. She radiated confidence and certainty, but beneath all of the hurt that she had turned into defensiveness, she was merely a woman that had been wronged and burned by every bridge she’d ever dared to build. You saw her as such, she knew that you did, so maybe that was why she never tried to act that way with you. It was an unspoken mutual understanding that all bets were off when fate brought you two together.

Natasha Romanoff played a lot of games. She liked the challenge of breaking down her opponent before they had the chance to break her down themselves, but the second anyone got too close she pulled a mask over her features and her bleeding heart became a loaded gun. You’d never met someone so guarded in your life, and yet she placed all cards face up on the table whenever she got you alone. Natasha Romanoff was not the sick and twisted woman she allowed the general public to believe she was. She woke up screaming from nightmares bi-weekly, the rasp in her gravely tone not natural but consequential. She closed her eyes whenever she washed her hands in fear of the clear water becoming red with the blood of her innocent victims. She stepped only on the tiles that she knew were silent, scared to make ripples in the water and alert attention. People who didn’t know Natasha Romanoff would say she was something similar to the atrocities that occurred beneath the midnight sky, but you would say she was the shadow of sweet flowers that disappeared after sunset.

You noticed every miniscule detail there was to know about Natasha Romanoff, but you know that she noticed every detail about you as well. She noticed the way you avoid going out in the rain when it’s cold, and how none of your socks ever seem to match even on missions. She noticed how you migrate down to the kitchen in the ungodly hours of the morning just to bake pastries for the team to eat at breakfast, usually cinnamon rolls or blueberry muffins with a crumb coating that Wanda particularly is a fan of, but eventually, she’d unraveled that your little habit wasn’t merely because you wanted to be hospitable toward the people you fought alongside with when extraterrestrial disasters fell to earth, but rather because your mind needed something to focus on when the nightmares of human travesties became too paralyzing and suffocating to handle alone in the dark. The first time her attention to detail became apart was a gloomy day in November, the leaves not all fallen from trees but the air frigid enough to belong in a barren January day. At that point, you’d fallen into a routine of going out for a run through central park each morning, always returning with not only a coffee for yourself, but one for her as well, but with the downpour of raindrops the size of nickels, you’d chosen the lower level gym as your route that day. Natasha wasn’t much a fan of the rain, but she never minded freezing temperatures. She found you in the debriefing room that early afternoon, her hair sodden and crimped from pallets of rain that fell overhead, but in her hands were two cuts of still steaming coffee from your favorite little cafe. She’d tried to say that she was just in the area, but you knew that she had gone out of her way to assure that at least part of your morning remained unchanged throughout the storm.

Your relationship with Natasha had been an unspoken arrangement for as many months and years as you could remember, but recently things had changed. You’d always found yourself alone in a room, two friends existing within the same space naturally, but lately even that hadn’t felt so innocently charged, and you were as much at fault as Natasha was. The Russian lingered in the kitchen just to watch as you mixed together batter for muffins that Tony would eat half of, but you hung around in the lower level gym just to hand off a water bottle when she completed her workout. Any excuse either of you could grasp onto just to spend a few uninterrupted minutes together had been abused and properly overused, but there was no admission of feelings anywhere close to the tip of your tongue.

There were some days that passed, even now years later, where when you looked at her beneath the kitchen lights, or against the punching bags, you only ever saw the broken woman that Clint had brought in from the KGB. She’d been merely a shell of herself at that time, fiery red hair matted with knots and the blood of her targets, face smeared with dirt and gunpowder. You hadn’t been on base when she’d been dragged in wearing heavy metal shackles and dehumanizing cuffs, but Maria had filled you in on everything prevalent regarding Fury’s newest asset. It had taken you three weeks to run into her when you returned, traumatized from the loss of your team and spiraling into shallow thoughts of death and finality, but from the very first moment you’d never seen her as a threat, and she’d never seen you as the lucky survivor that walked away from a raid. Her eyes were soft, softer than the wings of a newly hatched butterfly, and when she stood beneath the sunlight on the deck of the helicarrier, accent thick and sweet like the spring breeze that carried pollen beneath its current, you’d seen the daintiest twinge of gold within the green of her eyes. Maybe it was at that moment that you’d known you wanted to spend your entire life at her side, or maybe that had come much later, but what you’d definitely realized in that first month of knowing her, was that she wasn’t as complete as she wanted everyone to assume she was. There was so much despair and longing beneath her mask of confidence and casualty, so many agonizing emotions that she’d never fully overcome. There were times where you wondered what could be missing from her life that even now, deemed a hero and residing amongst people that just wanted to do good by the world, but you always circled back to the heavy acknowledgement that aside from you and Clint, nobody truly knew Natasha Romanoff. She’d spent her entire life beneath the thumb of power hungry generals, and when she’d gotten a taste of freedom and self identification, she’d conformed to be the woman that everyone else wanted her to be.

Some days however, you saw someone entirely different beneath her eyes that still held specks of gold when the sun fell upon her the right way. You saw a woman that was confident albeit flawed, painfully witty although reserved enough to hide within the walls when she didn’t want to be seen fully. But sometimes when you looked at her, you saw a woman yearning to love in the fullest sense of the word, and that broke your heart the most. She had never been shown unconditional love, never been held softly yet tightly, never been allowed to love back. Natasha Romanoff had been taught that love was the greatest weakness any woman could surrender herself to, and yet she was finally at a point where she wanted to experience the tragedy of loving something temporary. Death was unavoidable, she’d learned that young, but love transpired through isolation even if it never felt entirely complete again. For the first time since you’d met Natasha, she wasn’t scared to submit herself to the experience of loving someone to a fault, even though it meant she could very well lose it all tomorrow. Even if it didn’t seem like it to others, you noticed the subtle ways that she made progress as the years progressed, and each time you looked at her and saw a willingness to explore emotions rather than suppress them, you wanted nothing more than to squeeze her tight and be the one to teach her how to love.

“Hi.” Your voice was soft, delicate as it filled the otherwise silent kitchen. You’d heard her sneak up behind you minutes ago, but only now did it feel like the right time to greet her. She was close, but too far, pressed against the island in the middle of the kitchen whilst you stood beside the sink, hands full of strawberries that Tony had asked you to turn into something delicious. You’d rolled your eyes at the billionaire who had made a habit of soliciting you for pastries, but here you found yourself in the kitchen anyways, trading hours of sleep for muffins that would be gone by the early afternoon. “Wanna help me?” You laid the freshly washed strawberries on a clean kitchen rag, falling into the process of patting them dry without much thought or intention. All of this came so naturally now; she came so naturally now.

“I, um, I could actually just go for a hug. If it’s not too much trouble for the busy, Chef.” Her voice was hoarse, scratchy and thick as it fell onto your ears. Without the running tap, you could hear the quiet hitch in her breathing, wheezing exhales falling out into the space between your warm and yearning bodies. Your eyebrows furrowed, hands abandoning the strawberries in an instance. In all the years that you had known Natasha Romanoff, in all the years that you had seen her in the aftermath of a nightmare, she had never asked for a hug. You could count on one hand the amount of times you’d ever hugged her, and they’d all been for your own selfish reasons. You spun around to face her, palms dragging across your pajama bottoms and riding the water that clung to your palms so you could embrace her fully.

You hadn’t spared her a single glance when she’d first entered, wanting to give her the chance and time to make herself known by her own judgment and comfortability, but now that your eyes traced the delicate shadows across her face, you could make out the unbridled tears brimming in her eyes. She was ghastly pale, a fitful sleep indicative by the deep bruising beneath her eyes. You’d never seen her so distressed, but for a single second you thought about how she’d chosen to seek you out instead of trailing down to the gym and bullying a punching bag like she’d gotten into the routine of doing.

“Can I touch you?” You asked carefully, not wanting to make any sudden movements and spook her back into her shell of isolation. This was progress, and selfishly you wanted any excuse to pull her in close and hold her tight. When she nodded, a weak and fragile incline of her head, you closed the gap between your bodies and melted into her chest. She held you protectively, like she’d needed to feel you to ensure that you were safe and real. A single hand reached up to cradle the back of your head, and her lips found a home on the crown of your head as she inhaled your scent deeply. “You know you can always ask for hugs. Not just because you had a nightmare, but whenever. I mean that.”

Natasha cleared her throat, though she simultaneously tightened her grip around your waist as if whatever she wanted to say would be enough to make you either run away or disappear entirely. You didn’t comment on it, letting her have the time she needed to get her thoughts in order. You grabbed onto her sleep shirt, tight fists bunching up the material and holding it possessively. Natasha felt the motions, felt the way the cotton shirt hugged her belly tighter now that most of the slack was taken up by your grip, and you smiled softly against her chest when you felt her breath out evenly. “Today’s the day we left Ohio.” She started, and immediately your head shot up to search her blue eyes. You’d heard little about Ohio, even littler about the little blonde haired sidekick Natasha found herself protecting for three years, but you knew that what had happened had ruined her. You knew that something as little as moving away was never as simple as it sounded for her. “It was spring break. I left without being able to tell anyone I wouldn’t be coming back. They- They ripped Yelena out of my arms. I– I will always come back for you. You’re the first place that has ever felt like home outside of Ohio. I just– I needed to tell you that I’ll always come back to you.”

“I will always come back for you.” You meant every word that you said, but you could see a cloud of disbelief hanging over Natasha’s gaze as she let your eyes meet again. There was something different about ehr now, something softer and smaller than you’d ever seen. It wasn’t unpleasant, but you couldn’t bear the thought of her so distraught, you especially couldn’t bear the thought of what she had looked like at only eleven. She’d been so young and the world had been so cruel, you just wanted her to know that she was loved, and she was cherished now. She wasn’t just another soldier anymore. “Nat, can I kiss you?”

She froze for a minute, arms slackening around your waist as she stared deep into your eyes, an onset of fresh tears threatening to fall from her own, but before you could withdraw your question, before you could backtrack and excuse your vulnerability as simply being exhaustion, she was pulling you impossibly close, settling both of her hands on your cheeks as she cupped your face and settled her forehead against yours. Her touch was familiar and foreign at the same time, a coming of age to all the daydreams you’d fallen into with her at the center of them all. You’d thought about this moment for months, thought about how her calloused palms would feel against every inch of your skin, her she was always cold but not uncomfortably so. Now, beneath the kitchen lights and her greenish-gold gaze, you realized that you’ve wanted her since the very first moment you met her. “I thought you’d never ask.” Her lips, still impressionable with sadness, curled upward into a smirk, but you didn’t waste a second to kiss it away and show her the truth about love and connection.

Natasha Romanoff had kissed more people then she could keep track of, but never had any of those intimate encounters come voluntarily. For so many years her life had been a means to the mission, but she was free now. Finally, she was entirely free. In so many ways, more than you could even contemplate, you were her first, and desperately you hoped that you would each be each other's last.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x avenger!reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff oneshot #collection: spring fling

624 notes · View notes

kestisvrse · 3 days

Text

headcanon collection: meeting & dating hockey player!frat!luke castellan

♫ - espresso by sabrina carpenter

· definitely had a meet-cute type situation

· at a frat party that silena had ditched you at, he wasn’t watching as he walked and your drink went flying all over yourself.

· he apologized profusely which you furrowed your brows at, expecting a frat boy to be an asshole.

“holy shit! i am so sorry, oh my god that is such a nice shirt too.”

· led you to his room as he turned around and you threw on one of his shirts

· you hung out in different groups so you never really saw him, to return his shirt

· one day though, out of pure luck he decided to try studying at the library, running into you as you were about to leave.

· which led to him admiring your room as you dug around in your clean clothes basket for his shirt.

“you cleaned it?” “well… yeah i just threw it in i didn’t… really think about it… sorry.” you mumble, “it’s okay.” he says, smiling.

· ever since then, you noticed him studying in public more often.

· airpods in as he hunches over a table, gaze flickering between his laptop and his paper, squinting every so often.

“what’s with the sudden public appearances?” “oh! i- uh, wanted to try something new?”

· it led to you both seeking each other out at the library, all you knew about each other were your names and the classes you studied for, you had no contact or attachments but you always sat together

· eventually he finally asked for your number and you started seeing each other outside of the library and actually getting to know each other

“hey do you maybe want to come to my game on friday?” a text from him reads out, to which you quickly reply “of course :)”

· it became regular, if one of you needed to study you both found yourselves at the library, and if he had a game you were sat front row wearing his colours

· your friends noticed your feelings before you did, you were always bringing up a story about him, or asking someone to accompany you to his game

· it was sickening

“i’m out with luke right now, i’m so sorry.” “that’s okay!”

· luke wasn’t much better

· except his friends didn’t know who you were

· at first they thought he was hooking up with someone, to which he quickly shut down (he didn’t want you to think that’s what he was telling people, because he wasn’t)

· but hearing them say this made it click in his head that even if you were hooking up, he’d want more with you.

“can i come over?” “always, why?” “i really need to talk to you.”

“he’s going to tell you he likes you!” silena predicted, jumping around your dorm, “no he won’t!”

· he did

· he was a mess at your doorstep, he wasn’t used to relationships, usually sticking to situationships but with you, he felt something entirely different

· he was breathing heavily as he spoke, taking his sweet time to say “i like you” and instead just blabbering out compliments and how he doesn’t want to ruin things.

· but when he stops for a breath to watch your confusion, he shuts up and spits it out.

“i really like you, i want to be able to bring you flowers, and kiss you when you get a good grade on something you thought you’d fail, i want to fall asleep with you in my arms watching movies.”

· silena who hid in the bathroom squealed, causing luke’s cheeks to turn pink.

“ignore her! i, um, i really like you too.”

· and his confession was right

· as soon as he finally asked you out for real (after he took you out to dinner.) he was all over you

· hands had to be brushing each other if he couldn’t hold it, or didn’t have his arm around your waist

· he sported a grin of awe when he watched you get excited over things

· picking you up and spinning you around when you said you aced a test

· you still studied together all the time, sometimes if its in your dorm you get a bit sidetracked (ykwim.)

· he couldn’t help but take every chance to kiss you, your lips slotted together so perfectly he cursed all the time he spent hanging out with you and admiring your lips instead of actually acting on his thoughts

“is that my cherry chapstick?” you ask after pecking his lips, “ummmm no?” he scoffs (it is)

· you still went to every game, wearing his jersey now instead of just the teams colours

· kissing him passionately everytime he ran off the ice, didn’t matter if he won or not, he was an incredible player and that’s basically what your kisses said to him, how proud you were.

“I LOVE YOU!”

it was your four months as you watched him run around his room frantically.

“oh my god i swear it’s here somewhere!”

“luke it’s fine, just come lie down with me again.” you ask in a soothing tone, it was like your voice had a spell in it that made it work, forgetting his worries and his legs dragging himself to the bed.

“aha!” he suddenly yelled, causing you to jump. he ran to one of his shelves and pulled out a small box hiding behind his books, “see! i told you i had a gift.”

“you’re ridiculous.” you giggled, sitting up as he handed you the box, urging you to open it.

the cover snapped off as your jaw dropped in awe. a necklace with the initial “L” laid in the box, “oh it’s beautiful luke.”

“hey and look.” you look up at his eyes, looking down at his neck as he pulls something out from under his sweater. a matching necklace with your initial.

“oh my god you’re so cute.” you giggled, taking the necklace out of the box, “put it on for me?”

you quickly shimmed so your back faced his chest, holding your hair out the way as he snapped it around your neck, he admired you in the mirror, his hands coming to rest on your waist and the back of you head rested on his shoulder.

he said your name softly to which you hummed in response, making eye contact with him through the mirror, fiddling with the new necklace.

“i love you.” your eyebrows raised in a soft shocked expression at the unfamiliar words, turning to look back at him.

“i love you too.”

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #sienna’s fics #pjo x reader #luke castellan headcanons #luke castellan x you #luke castellan hockey au #luke castellan frat au #frat au #pjo headcanon #pjo au #headcanon collection #headcanons

404 notes · View notes

chinelacanta · 9 months

Text

i just know he’d be a really awkward but supportive dad (< delusional)

#they’re so <:( i need to see them interact #there’s not enough fic content w them 😔😔 i weep #monkey d dragon #op luffy #not necessarily an au but just a scenario where luffy lives w his dad for 5 years before going to dawn #absolutely nothing changes in canon but i just want them to spend some time together </3 #also dragon wouldnt mind co parenting w shanks but shanks would def be a little jealous #because he’s just like that </3 goofy manchild #luffy doesnt even want dragon to marry he just wants to collect father figures #dragon: thumbs up in aroace #one piece #my art!!

2K notes · View notes

milla-frenchy · 7 days

Text

10 mg

1k0 | Joel Miller x fem reader | ao3 Warnings: 18+ mdni. consensual somnophilia, dirty talk, piv, creampie

a/n: same couple: 5 days collection, but can be read alone Thank you @aurorawritestoescape for beta reading 💕😘

Masterlist

***********

Joel woke up in the middle of the night, feeling warmth against his torso and lower stomach. Your back was against his chest, your bare ass nestled against his crotch, your breathing slow. Deep asleep, he thought.

You both fell asleep while his soft and soothed cock was still inside you, his cum dripping from your pussy to the sheets. He always hoped to wake up still buried in you, and to feel his length growing inside your core. Then his hips would resume their thrusts as if the night didn’t pass by.

But not today. Today, his cock was against your ass, out of you. Hard, already weeping. He was so fucking stiff that it was almost painful. He needed to plunge his shaft into your warmth, to feel it wrapped by your walls and squeezed by them. To be inside what was his.

“I need to fuck her, baby”, he said in your ear, his voice so low that even if you had been awake you probably wouldn't have heard him. He jerked his cock, still covered in your wetness and his cum, and nestled it at your still seeping hole. When his tip brushed against all that dampness, he grunted. God, you were so fucking hot.

“Shit, sweetheart, I can already stuff you with my cock.”

His other hand slipped under the sheets, in front of your pussy up to your folds, and his fingers helped him enter gently. “Oh fuck”, he grumbled, feeling your warmth surrounding him. He kept thrusting and didn’t stop, pressing the tips of his fingers against his shaft until your pussy swallowed him whole. You softly moaned. Over your head, he looked at the nightstand, the glass of water, the bottle of sleeping pills. His hand slid up to your breast and cupped it. How he wished he could have taken it in his mouth, and sucked your hard nipple. Fuck, just thinking about it made him even harder.

“ ’m gonna fuck you slow at first, don't wanna wake you up yet.”

He moved his hand down to your hip. Leaving the sheet on you, forcing himself to imagine every curve of your body under the fabric.

Your pussy was taking his cock perfectly, as always. Made for him. He brushed his nose against your collarbone then the back of your neck, breathing in your scent, letting his soft mustache and beard brush against your skin, and you moaned again.

“Ya like it, uh? Letting me use ya whenever I want? Even while you’re sleeping, jesus…”, he whispered in your ear, even though you couldn’t hear him, and that turned him on even more. Your body was warm against his, and finally he removed the sheet that was covering you and the moon let him see the curves of your body.

“Fuck. You’re so hot, baby”, he murmured, caressing the skin on your hip. This time you moaned louder and he slowed down, whispering softly, his forehead against the back of your head "don't wake up sweetheart, please. Not yet. Let me use you a little more."

He moved his torso slightly away from your back, looking down at your ass, only being able to see the shadow of his cock sinking into you.

“Fully stuffed with my cock, shit. I like fucking you like that. Slowly. Feeling her.”

Every time he was pulling back, he wanted to thrust in roughly, cling to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin. Each time he stopped himself, wanting to keep you a little more for himself. Enjoying this moment when you let him fully use your body. Unaware of what he was doing, how he was doing it.

“She’s always ready to take this cock, mmm, baby? Always ready to get fuckin’ ruined.”

His breathing was speeding up, and he wondered how he was going to wake you up. Would he dive in suddenly like he was thinking about it for several minutes? Covering your mouth with his hand to prevent you from waking up the neighbors.

Or would he thrust just a little harder, gripping your hip with more pressure. Lightly nibbling your shoulder.

“Fuck…taking it so good…”

He took your hand in his and pinned them to the sheets, intertwining his fingers with yours and leaned forward slightly. Diving his hips in yours again. “I love to fuck you when you’re asleep. Miss your mouth in these moments, but fuck…”

He felt his cock twitch, and grunted to himself “don’t you fucking dare. Not yet.” He slowed the pace trying to calm down. “Fuck, this pussy is not even clenching me yet and I wanna shoot my load, damn.”

He slid his hand between your body and the bed, and rubbed your clit. “You’re gonna come in your sleep baby? Bet ya can do that for me.” He kissed your shoulder, burying himself ever so gently into you. “Come on, sweetheart, give it to me.” Your clit throbbed under his finger and your pussy clenched. “Yeah, just like that, baby. Squeeze me.” His cock twitched, ready to give in. “Just a little bit more….” He stroked your clit as patiently as ever, waiting for your release, then his own. He felt you flinch, and you barely had the time to stammer, “J…Joel? Oh fuck, I’m gonna…oh fuck!”

You came right after waking up, your pussy squeezing his shaft. He fucked you through your orgasm, praising you with his “good girl, soaking my cock,” until you felt him pulse, squirting his spurts of cum against your walls.

“Oh shit, Joel…” Your body was trembling in his arms as he was holding you tight against him, his orgasm exploding after all those whispers and slow thrusts. He held you against his sweaty body, unable to move.

“Sweetheart…”, he finally mumbled against the crook of your neck.

“I love when you’re using me”, you said, kissing his hand.

“I love it too, baby. She was still dripping, you know…ruining the sheets. Begging for me to fuck her.”

“I bet she was. That little slut”, you laughed and pinched him. You tried to turn around but he held you tighter.

“Can't leave this warmth baby. Let me fall asleep like this. I'll fuck you again in a couple of hours. Ok?”

He kissed your neck.

You nodded, but thought that you’d love to fuck yourself slowly on his shaft while he was asleep, and feel him grow inside you.

****************

Same couple: 5 days collection

***************

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

@pascalsanctuary @littlemisspascal @survivingandenduring

776 notes · View notes