umnitsa

[umnitsa]

[umnitsa]

I MEAN, REALLY? REALLY?

THE BOYS AND THIS UNIVERSE'S ABILITY TO GIVE ME AN ERECTION.

[umnitsa]

18+ ONLY, warnings: feedy, chubby!harry, hand job, office sex, belly grinding, sex.

- - - -

Ok but. Harry Castillo? THE Harry Castillo? The one whos got a nutrionist and dietician and physical trainer, to make sure he keeps the strictest physical health possible to perform his best? And all of it adds more stress to his mind.

So when you start gifting him little treats, just a little kind gesture to make his day, he doesnt record those on his intake tracking sheet. It starts with adding a little bowl of choclates to your desk, holding one out for him as he passes by on his way to his office. Always with a warm smile. Its the best first thing in his morning: a little bit of sweetness to unravel like a tiny treasure and kick off his day. He hums and savors the taste in his mouth. It had been years since he had something unfiltered like this: everything he eats is stripped of sugar and processed gooeyness. It excites him to enjoy this one little secret.

But then, youre offering him one every time he leaves for a lunch, comes back from a meeting, shaking hands out in the lobby. You always seem to be perfectly in stock too: when one disappears, another is replenished within the hour. It heats your cheeks every time he gives you a kind smile when snatching one off your desk.

You started taking on his lunch orders too. Of course, everything was perfectly curated by his personal chef. He hadn't order takeout in a long time. So while he eats his bland meal, you also bring him a little extra bite: a burger or plate of fries. Perhaps a milkshake when a deal closes or a few cookies and slices of cake when he's there past 5.

You always leave it on his desk. He' usually busy on a call, but when he swivels to see you standing there clearing room on the table for his tray of goodies, his face lights up, licking his lips as he mumbles an excited "ah huh" into the receiver. You watch as he rushes to end the call before diving in. Whereas before, he'd take nibbles while entirely focused on work, now he slams his laptop shut and dedicates his entire attention to his treats. He lets out happy groans and hums with each bite. Wipes the cream or crumbs from his eager lips and sucks his fingers clean. Always after cleaning the whole plate, he'd sit back and sigh, smiling gently to himself.

You're clearing out the tray when he heaves himself up and trying to change for a new meeting. Harry lets out a grunt, undoing his belt and latching it to the widest hole possible. He frowns in the mirror, staring back as he shifts.

"You look wonderful, Mr Castillo," you tell him softly. He grins and nods, ignoring the new weight settling in stomach and thighs.

His doctor had questioned how his weight had increased so quickly. Harry assures him its temporary stress but hes keeping up with his routines. He doesnt bother to hide the fact that the food has made him less stress than ever before. In fact, his mood had improved tenfold. He was indulging and enjoying food again, and it made him more motivated to keep going.

He was embarassed to ask you to schedule him a tailor appointment for new suits. His clothes feeling tighter must all be in his head. A couple extra treats here and there surely wouldn't have made a noticeable difference on the outside? No, it was just bloating from having foods he'd repressed for decades.

He stops telling himself that when he finds himself cupping your ass in your pencil skirt, seated across his spread lap as you dip another choclate covered strawberry into his mouth. This had become a weekly to nightly occurance. Late hours resulted in late hour munchies. He felt bad keeping you after hours but you insisted if you could parttake, you wouldnt mind all. He thought that meant getting a bite to eat along with his orders, not... this.

He finishes chewing and swallows, humming as you rub his large belly. You had helped unbutton his shirt and pants to help let his gut fall out more natutally. There was no reason to be strung up in uncomfortable clothes when no one was here, you told him. A few glasses of wine didnt hurt either. It felt nice to have the heat of your body against his chest and thigh. He pet your smooth legs curled up against his knee. Your body felt fantastic, especially your thighs. When drunk he had fewer pretense to worry of how it might look, having your boss run his palm up your thigh, above your skirt line. It felt nice for both of you.

You held a cup of chocolate, dipping various snacks layed out on the table, and feeding him one by one. You leaned against his chest and kissed his cheek and neck, listening to his struggled breath trying to keep his arousal at bay. The food piling in his stomach only added pressure to his already hard cock.

You could sense his discomfort. He whined slightly when you sat up. His disappointment is replaces by raised, excited eyes as you unclasp your blouse, revealing your push up bra that accentuated your breasts and cleavage. "Thats better," you hum. "Now you."

He nods as you take over to pulling his hardened length out. It sprung free, slapping the curve of his stomach. "My my, Mr Castillo. I knew those rumors were true."

He blushes. Yanking you back to his lap, you begin to jerk him off with one hand, proceeding to feed him again with the other. Harry is enamoured, his eyes lidded and lust filled, panting as you encourage another bite. You had made a mess of chocolate over his dress shirt, not that he minded one bit. His member throbbed violently in your hand. Your craddled his head to your chest, pumping his length faster. He dipped his finger in the chocolately mess and pressed it to your lips. Your moan sang with praize as you sucked his finger off, enough to make him cum with a yelp all over your hand.

Harry proceeded to have breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the office. You were rarely at your desk those hours, instead grinding on his belly beneath you atop his lounger, or getting fucked against the closet wall, or sucking his cock and licking the sticky mess left all over his chest and stomach under his desk. He fired his irrate physician and dieticians. He'd never felt more alive and healthier than he has with your invaluable assistance.

[umnitsa]

So I watched Eddington.

I love Ted Garcia, he's just a bit of an asshole, just right for me.

Larry Kline x Reader x Ted Garcia, sleazy mayors of past and future Eiffel tower anyone?

I seem to have a type.

[umnitsa]

I wanna press my face against his belly

[umnitsa]

I am completely fascinated by fandoms that hate the thing they're fans of.

[umnitsa]

Alexei is hot as fuck 🔥 🥵 🔥 🥵 🔥 🥵

Lately, i've been lusting over this big hunk of a man right here 😍🥵

Don't worry, I think it's just a phase 😉 or nahh 🥵

[umnitsa]

I think rough, nasty sex in haunted locations is a severely underrated activity, and I'm not afraid to say it.

[umnitsa]

[umnitsa]

Bunny: Alexei Shostakov x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989

Summary: It's been a long time since Alexei's been with a woman.

Glossary:

зайка - in Russian translates to "bunny" or "little rabbit" and is used as a term of endearment, similar to "honey" or "sweetheart". 

It’s been eons since anyone has touched Alexei with intention. These days it’s nothing more than the brush of a hand as he hands over his change, a stranger bumping into him in the street. A fleeting brief second of contact before it’s gone and he’s alone all over again.

A man can’t survive like that but he tries.

Or at least he did until tonight, until you.

Your lips brush over his as he sits in the front seat of his limo, your thumb ghosting over his grizzled cheek as you kiss him with a tenderness he hasn’t known in decades. You taste like cherries, like the ones from the orchards back home in Russia. The flavour bursts on his tongue as he deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into the confines of your mouth. You moan at the sensation, your body pressing eagerly against his over the console as his fingertips trace along the hem of the little black dress you wore for your date tonight, pushing it up.

“We could take this into the back of the limo.” He mumbles against the corner of your mouth as your fingertips trail over the buttons of his shirt, unfastening the first one. “There isn’t a lot of space in the front seat for the things I have in my head.”

“And what things are they?” You whisper, parting your thighs as his hand creeps higher, his forefinger stroking lightly over the damp black lace between your legs.

“My mouth right here.” He says, tapping his fingertip against your clit and the noise you make, it makes his dick strain against his zipper. “I want to know how sweet you taste зайка.”

You exhale as his mouth ghosts along the curve of your throat, the delicious scrape of his beard across your skin as he nips that naughty little spot just underneath the hinge of your jaw.

“Jesus…” You whisper as his fingers continue to stroke you, the ecstasy building in your core with every gentle caress.

“Oh no, зайка.” He tuts, his voice like velvet in your ear. “My name is the only one you’re going to be screaming tonight.”

Love Alexei? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[umnitsa]

everybody’s always on writing prompts like “what if there was a world where everyone had a timer ticking down to their death… but you met someone whose timer said infinity!” or “what if everyone had their cause of death tattooed across their forehead… but you met someone whose forehead said THE CREATURE!” Enough -

enough. stop with the shock value. there is no need to insert THE CREATURE; the benign concept of such a world is horrifying enough. not even in urgency, but just in banal, everyday interaction. imagine you meet someone and their timer says two years. not tomorrow, not urgently soon, but two years. enough to do quite a lot. they could fall in love in that time - could they get engaged? have a baby? you might otherwise get to know them, befriend them, but perhaps you opt not to, make a conscious choice not to invest in your own grief. what balancing act would every individual person have to participate in - I have ten years, is that long enough to be a good mother to children? is that long enough to secure a caretaker for my own mother? my wife will die a few months before me. my newborn’s timer reads nineteen years.

and cause of death. you interview for a job and emblazoned across the healthy, smiling face of the HR lady is MALNUTRITION. your country is prospering, safe, but every person you meet on the street from the babies to the old women read BOMB. BOMB. what kind of havoc would fate wreak on the world? what about the loss of privacy? how would that shape our notions of hope? idk man I think a lot of those ancient poems were right, and the fates are monsters. I’m interested by the framing of these ideas as trite horror tales when the premises themselves are so much more disturbing if simply taken to their logical ends

[umnitsa]

pervert hitchhiker!soap

you weren’t dumb. you’ve seen enough horror movies to know not to pick up the seemingly harmless man on the side of the road. especially in the middle of nowhere. population : 74.

but you had no clue where you were. phone dead, not like it would’ve helped anyway with the lack of cell reception. you suddenly wished you would have paid more attention to your father when he was trying to explain how to read a road map.

needless to say, you were out of options. maybe he knew where the hell you were.

you slow the car down to where the fella sat on the dirt road. locking the doors for extra precaution.

“uh. . . hey.” your lips press into a thin line. you hesitate a bit with your next words, going over the potential ways this interaction could go wrong.

a. he pulls a knife out on you and forces you to get out your car, leaving you stranded with no idea where you are.

b. you let him in your car and you end up chopped into pieces.

c. missing person posters with your face on them end up around your hometown.

you feel a bit warm not just from the weather when he stands up, dusting off his jeans before walking over to the passenger side window which you already rolled down.

“yee don’t know happy i am to see ya, lass.” his grin is wide and slightly relieved to finally find other human being. “been out ere all day.”

you look him over. no noticeable weapons that could leave you with your limbs no longer attached to your body. his body is sweating, shirt hung over his broad shoulder. he’s wearing camo pants that he’s basically busting out of, sweat staining his inner thighs and crotch area.

“it’s hot out here, ain’t it?” you swallow. he has a thick happy trail that thins out once it reaches his midsection. you pull your eyes up from his nether regions and back up to his face. “i’m surprised you haven’t passed out in this heat.”

he wipes his forehead, grease and specks of dirt covering his face and arms, which were covered in a layer of corse hair. “aye almost did, lass.” he leans against your car. “got any water?”

instead of drinking the bit of water you gave him, he wastes it by dumping it over his head in attempt to cool himself down. he shakes his head like a wet mutt.

“where you headed?”

“few miles up thee road.”

he dips his head in through the window, letting the air condition cool his hot to the touch skin. eyes low and intense. “gonne give me a ride, bonnie?”

𓍼

your fingers drum against the steering wheel, biting the insides of your cheeks as you listen to his babbling about his various trips he’s been on. the song, looking for love plays lightly in the background. you learn his name is johnny, and learn even more about his family back home. he also tells you there’s a town up ahead, which gives you some peace of mind. he seemed friendly enough, though you were still on edge.

the smell of thick musk and harsh sweat accumulates throughout the air, and despite yourself, you don’t mind it one bit.

he pauses his story telling for a moment, head turning to face you directly. “i ain’t gonne hurt ye if thas whot your worried about.” johnny grinned, amusement seen in the creases near his eyes.

you let out a light scoff and shake your head, still focused on the never ending road ahead. “can’t be too sure.” you mutter, the corner of your lip curled up. “you’re lucky i even let you in my car. i was gonna leave your ass on the side of the road.”

johnny let’s out a hearty laugh that makes your chest flutter with something unknown. “i’m no serial killer, lass.” you can hear the smile in his tone. “and i’d never put aye hand on a woman, unless she wonted me to of course.” you caught his smirk out of the corner of your eye.

“unless she wanted you too.” you repeat under your breath with a small nod. you take your eyes off the road for just a moment to look at Johnny, who’s hand was conveniently covering the slight bulge in his pants. a slight panic ran through you but you tell yourself not to worry about it.

“eyes on the road.” he murmured, nodding his chin once to the road ahead. and for some reason you listen almost immediately, eyes now connected to the road with a passion.

his smirk grew wider at your cooperation. johnnys hand started up again with his ministrations, rubbing his aching cock through his pants. he lifts his hips up to adjust his pants, which were growing increasingly uncomfortable.

“thas it.” his voice his hoarse and slightly needy. “keep ‘em there, bonnie.”

and you listen. a small breath escapes your lips, his words making you feel a familiar warmth spread in your belly. “. . . alright.” you murmur.

he just loves your compliance. johnny allows his head to tilt back, lips parting as he touches himself. eyes glued to your side profile.

he writhes in his seat, thick, meaty thighs manspreading as if to show off his cock. “f—fuck.” he huffs under his breath, barely audible. “yee look so pretty sittin’ there, actin’ so, so good for mae.” his praise almost makes you bellow over. you clench your jaw.

“you’re more of a creep than a serial killer.” you grumble. you grip the steering wheel like a lifeline, attempting to ground yourself. “seriously, i can see what you’re doing.”

“‘n you’re not stopping me, love.” he retorts. you roll your eyes before glancing over at him. you’re met with his calloused hand tracing the outline of the noticeably larger hard-on he had going on. “can’t resist takin’ a peek, can ye?”

you huff, mixture of annoyance and arousal. but when you hear the sound of him unbuckling his belt, the panic returns. you pull over, realizing you have to put a stop to this before it gets out of hand. “you can get out my car now—“

your heart thumps faster.

johnny’s leaking cock rests heavy out his boxers. your throat closes, stopping the sane decision from leaving your lips. his hand moves slowly, running from the base to the glistening tip.

“ye were sayin’?” god, he looks so smug, knowing he has you right where he wants. he’s leaned back like he’s right at home, comfy. johnny rolls his hips, hand jerking faster.

you open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out. the warmth in your gut spreads to your sticky heat, thighs finding each other to get some sort of relief. it only leaves a throbbing need echoing from your pussy. all rational thoughts have left your brain. all of a sudden, the idea of him being some sort of murderer wasn’t even present in mind anymore.

his cock is all sticky with pre, thick and hard with a need. “you’re such a pervert.” you scoff in disbelief. your words don’t offend him, it only ignites excitement in him. johnny’s cock twitches at your words.

“go on,” he nods. “throw mae out. say thee word ‘n i’m gone, love.” his hand goes faster, eyes never leaving your flushed face; cheeks harshly warm and rosy. “come on, tell me yee don’t wonna watch.” he smirks.

you put the car in park.

warning : you did not kick him out your car lol

don't copy or translate.

[umnitsa]

Stoopid stuff based on a meme I saw on Pinterest I wanted to draw!!

[umnitsa]

Summary: Alexei saves you.

A/N: Sorry guys. My writer's block is killing me, I'm super frustrated, work is killing me, but I saw that save both in Thunderbolts and Superman (except that's with kids). I'm horny and I couldn't stop sexualizing strong men, etc etc etc. This is short and sweet and dirty in all the wrong ways. There are other notes on the end.

Banner from @cafekitsune

Pairing: Alexei Shostakov x fem!Reader (It's a 'happily retired' kind of fic).

CW: There is a hard cock, everybody is horny. No pussies were harmed during this fanfic.

The house was a complete mess. You had bought it recently; you and Alexei were searching for a place where you could have some peace. The downside was realizing that the cheap, beautiful place you luckily got was falling apart.

You had to admit the house had its charms, and it would probably be perfect when you finished renovations, but right now it was a death trap.

Alexei wanted to live there and work on the house full time. You thought it was dangerous to leave him alone; only God knew the kind of adventures he could find himself in, and while he was strong and very resilient, you worried he wouldn't be that resilient to electricity.

It became almost romantic. You two sleeping in a makeshift bed in the living room, with cute lamps around, badly illuminated, chuckling over delivery food. Watching cartoons together on a tablet. Making love whenever you wanted (and you wanted a lot, Alexei was always hungry).

***

The kitchen was somewhat functional, mostly water and electricity. An old fridge hummed, and you fried eggs on the portable electric stove as you chuckled at the old toaster. Everything looked so cute, even in that state of decay.

You sighed, turning the coffee pot on, wondering how you could convince Alexei that you could both stay at a cheap motel or rent a place while contractors worked, at least until the house was safe. Inhabitable.

"Birdie!" Alexei shouted, and before you could register the urgency in his voice, you felt his thick arm wrapping around your middle.

Your body was tugged in a circle and forced down, as his other arm wrapped around your side, the big palm cradling the back of your head, pushing it forward and down.

Alexei's chest glued to your back, he folded forward, covering your body with his, a protective cocoon. You heard a loud thud and felt Alexei's body tensing around yours, the hair escaping from his lungs; a small 'oof' escaping from his lips.

You saw the debris falling around him, hitting the floor, raising a dust of powdered concrete and bits of paint.

Plaster. You closed your eyes, realizing what had happened. From Alexei's noise, it was a big piece; it could have hurt you.

"Are you ok, birdie?" He said, low, against your ear, then he looked up and around to survey the damage and check for danger, keeping you protected, his body immobilized under his.

You moaned.

It escaped from your chest, clawing its way through your chest and your mouth, followed by a full-body shudder. You stood very still, surprised by your own reaction.

The whole world stopped for a moment.

Then you felt his beard and his lips against your ear.

"Birdie..." He said, his voice low. You could feel he was smiling from the way he said it. You could feel the warmth between your legs, Alexei's cock stirring against you. "Dirty birdie, hot for hero."

He chuckled and kissed right under your ear, making you whine. He stood up and held your shoulders, making you turn to him. With a soft, gentle smile, he checked you for injuries.

You felt out of breath as he looked over your body, thoroughly, carefully.

"Sorry, birdie. Will need to find other place to stay."

"There. Ok." He says softly and smacks your ass playfully, pushing you out of the kitchen. You turn at the door, trying to see exactly what happened.

Alexei stood in the middle of the kitchen, hands on his hips, looking up at the massive hole in the ceiling. Half his body was covered in dust, debris all around him... His grey sweatpants tented with the volume of his heavy, half-hard cock. Alexei hummed; one hand moved to hold the shaft over the pants, gently massaging himself.

"Good. I was having fun, but this place isn't safe." You sigh, relieved, nodding. "We go now? Breakfast on the way?" Alexei looked into your eyes and opened a bright, predatory smile.

"After sex, yes. Don't want you smearing the car seat." He moved toward you in broad steps. You shrieked his name, laughing and running to the makeshift bed. "You get the seats wet. I smell you all day, stay hard all day. Can't even wait in the car; the car is the issue. Groceries get uncomfortable."

You laugh, stumbling into the pillows.

"Am already stressed, can't deal with this traitor." He looked down at his cock. With a smirk Alexei climbs over your body.

***

A/N 2: I don't know why, but I'm sure this is an older version of this Alexei. RedRocket!Alexei? Oh god.

[umnitsa]

tfw "popular" fanon becomes so embedded in a fandom & discussions within fandom spaces that people just start treating it as the default and all interactions with others are coloured by this interpretation. have you considered that I actually don't subscribe to this take, which is nowhere in the source material? wait nvm, clearly not.

[umnitsa]

I love that Jimmy Olsen is exactly the type of photographer Peter Parker pretends to be. Just bat-shit insane.

Whenever someone asks Peter how he took a picture he's like "Oh! I uh-, climmed a flagpole. Totally"

And very mortal, normal-human Jimmy is like "See, Clark, is not that weird"

I mean, look at this nutjob.

The world could be ending, lava on the streets and Jimmy would be out there photographing away. No powers, no sense of self preservation. Just khakis, a camera and a dream.

I like to imagine Peter meeting Jimmy and immediately being mortified about it.

Jimmy: –and so luckily I was able to take the picture before the building collapsed on me... Superman was super pissed at me but, photographer to photographer, it was totally worth it.

Peter: Right, no– See, this is actually my first time hearing how fucking insane that sounds. No wonder people at work look at me weird.

[umnitsa]

delicacy

Joel Miller x f!reader

tags: pussy eating, pussy worship, pussy fingering, pussy pronouns, pussy everything; 650 words read and leave kudos on ao3

“Fuck, I missed eating pussy.” He was growling in you, the eyes half closed like he wanted to fully give into the taste, but also couldn’t miss a moment of your body trembling under him. The sweat slicked skin of your belly rising and falling erratically as he sucked on your clit, and teased the slick bud with the tip of his tongue.

Sweat dripped down your face, the salty evidence of your tension stinging your eye as you tried to make eye contact with the man. He had that same hungry look on him in the bar. He tipped the glass of whiskey down his throat without breaking eye contact with you and you knew you’d be taking him home before you even knew his name. ‘Joel,’ he introduced himself, ‘what do I have to do to make you leave with me?’

Less that forty minutes and a car ride with his massive hand in your panties later, he was spread eagle-ing you on your bed. His knees dug into the plush of your carpet and you hoped he didn’t notice the pair of socks you threw under the bed yesterday. He dove right into you, being so impatient with ripping your thighs apart it almost hurt. His death grip didn’t let you budge, and he tore your panties off before you could yelp a single objection. 

Never had a man been so desperate to give you head. You could swear you had seen his wet tongue peeking out before he even made contact with your skin. His nostrils flared as he inhaled your smell, grazing his teeth over the tender spot where your inner thigh met your pussy. 

“Fuck,” Joel sounded as if he was shaking, his voice rippling against your swollen folds. His thumbs spread you apart, opening every slick part of you to his greedy eyes. “The prettiest sight a man’s eyes can see. So soft,” his tongue licked up from your hole and he placed a little kiss on your clit, “so delicious.”

Honesty in Joel’s voice drove you to the edge faster than his tongue did. Gently, he pushed two fingers in your hole and curled them, rubbing against the sweet spot. He wanted to keep telling you how much he wanted that unique taste running down his throat, how the twitches of your clit against his tongue got him painfully hard in his jeans. But he was too busy rubbing your sensitive nub with all the loyalty he had for a sweet pussy like yours. 

“I– I’m close,” you stuttered, your hands finding Joel’s hair and pressing him firmer into you. He just moaned, allowing you this power over him, letting you all but rut your pussy over his face. The coarse bristles of his beard felt like needles on your raw flesh but you couldn’t stop. He stuck his tongue out, letting you slide your clit over it while still having his fingers deep in your pussy. Joel softly guided you with those two fingers, feeling your walls flutter as you came. He took his fingers out replacing them with his tongue to get the most of your taste. When the man looked up from between your thighs, his lips were glistening wet and your legs were shaking. 

“Good God,” you breathed out with a jittery laugh, “you gotta give me a minute if you want me to ride you, big boy.”

Joel smiled, wiping the remnants of your wetness off his chin and licking his finger.  “I’m not moving until I drink you up whole, baby, so don’t rush to sit up. The most you can do is turn around so I can eat her from behind.”

A loud wet clap made your breath hitch and you felt a nice sting where he slapped your thigh. It was going to be a deliciously long night.