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EDDIE MUNSON | 1/?

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may i sit there?

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Me trying to choose one of my fictional crushes for my fake scenarios before falling asleep

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Johnny storm x reader propaganda I will fall for every time:

- reader runs a cafe/bakery or something and Johnny Storm is a regular but doesn’t like coffee or sweets and is visiting for other reasons

- reader is Reed’s assistant and suddenly it’s impossible to get Johnny to leave the lab every day

- Johnny flies past reader’s apartment when on patrol and stops by to say hello.

- Johnny is keeping his relationship/feelings towards the reader a secret but Ben just already knows. Nothing gets past him. Sue eventually figures it out but Reed is in the dark.

- Franklin gives Johnny baby fever, especially when reader is taking care of him. Johnny then admits out loud that he wants a child and reader is like “babe wtf I mean sure but let’s talk about this first”

- reader and Johnny want to take care of Franklin for the night and Reed is blabbering on about the phone number of the restaurant and “call me in an hour” while Sue is like “honey get in the car I want to LEAVE”

- angst where Johnny comes home from a devastating fight where he couldn’t save everyone or gets seriously injured and reader holds him and takes care of him

- Johnny has the funniest one liners in these stories. Genuinely. Yall are hilarious.

- needle drops. Tell me a song or a playlist to listen to with a fic with and I WILL.

- fluff where Johnny and reader are married and simply live domestically. Especially if Johnny is absolutely down bad and weak in the knees the whole time.

[catherinnn]

i need this man

bob needs more

pairing: bob robert reynolds x fem!/afab reader

warnings: bob who likes to fuck up into reader when she rides him, p in v, MDNI 18+, nicknames used

a/n: lowercase intentional, proofread - love u bob <3 i have more bob (n sentry/void) works on my page if you’re interested :3

word count: 576

bob just needs a little extra, a little more, that’s when he fucks up into you from below while you’re on top. it’s not greed or power driving him, simply an aching need to be closer to you. to make you feel as full as he feels wrapped up in you. to make you feel every ounce and pinch of his love when he pounds just that extra inch closer up into your sweet spot or kissing your cervix with his cock. to connect to you completely. the two of you both know bob is big, capital B, so when he’s already splitting you open around him in such a heavenly way that extra little ache that creates those extra little pushes and thrusts of his hips manage to drive you, and him, all the crazier.

bob lays back, shoulders and back against the headboard, brown hair ruffled and splayed like a crown around his head thumping back against the headboard occasionally, eyes rolling back too when he hears a sweet whimper or a breathless moan of his name you let out as you ride him. bob fits so snugly inside of you and you’re always so perfect for him, and he makes sure to let you know that in these intimate moments together. “you’re so perfect, baby, i l-love you,” he groans out, followed soon by a “thank you-thank you, fit so perfectly around me, you were made for me angel.” it’s not longer after that need inside bob to bring you closer, get closer, more connected, starts to drive him a little crazy. he pulls your hips tighter to him, bending at the knees to reposition you up into him further, now with your chests brushing. bob groans when he first feels your pebbled nipples brush his bare chest. one of his hands snakes its way up your side to your breast, palming at it while he uses his other hand to grab your hip tighter and begins to rut up (frantically) into you, helping aid with your slow grinds against him. it feels like he’s physically incapable of keeping his hands off you, enraptured by your form.

bob keeps you there, chests and foreheads touching, as he pistons in and out of you. “feels like heaven, y-you always do,” he manages to groan out. you muster the energy to reply, “you always fill me up so well, bobby, thank you handsome,” you place a kiss to the corner of his lips and he begins to chase your lips with his own, pumping in as deep as he can to bring you both closer to your climaxes. he snakes his hand from your hip to your clit, whimpering when the contact makes you tighten and flutter around him further. it isn’t longer after, the room filled with the sounds of skin against skin, lewd wetness, and your shared moans and groans, that bob moans out, “can feel you getting tighter, pl-please come for me princess, need it.” those words push you over the edge you were already teetering on. you gasp out a broken sob of “robert” and clench and gush around him. your release sends bob right into his own, pushing his hips up into you one more time before stilling all the way in and painting your insides white. he keeps you there selfishly for a few minutes before cleaning you up, still aching to be close to you, connected to you.

[catherinnn]

new fav

roommate!Eddie collection

(*) indicates smut

Fics

morning ritual - 2.3k *

wanna make you feel better - 1.3k *

rooftop conversations - 1.2k *

evening ritual - 1.2k

feels like home - 9.2k *

bathroom at a party - 1.8k *

heart like a hearth - 8.1k *

in the kitchen - 2.7k *

Blurbs

phone sex *

bite me

roommate!Eddie mastertag

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he's so yummy

Now we know why the manspread is so wide 😪

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me staring at the search bar trying to decide which fictional man I’ll read about tonight:

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like please

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I LOVE HIM

Aaaaah hear me out (I got this idea from a friends episode hahaha)

Bob and Reader get into a little fight/disagreement when they’re out on a little trip. When they get back, the others can tell that something’s off and Walker being who he is mutters something to the others like “looks like that’s over…” and Bob overhears. He ends up eating away at himself, thinking it really is over, but just before the void breaks loose, Reader comes in to his room, all confused like

“Bob what’s wrong?”

“I.. I thought you didn’t want to see me again..”

“What makes you think that?”

“Cause- we had a fight. And you’re mad at me?”

“Bob, I’m not mad at you…”

“What? So… this isn’t over?”

“Baby, couples fight sometimes. It’s okay. It’s not a reason to break up. Of course we’re not over, I love you, Bob.”

“But Walker said-“

And then kisses and cuddles ensue hihihi sorry this is long…

-🐮

The drive back was quiet. Too quiet.

You were still a little tense from the stupid fight--something about directions or the hotel check-in or whether you actually needed that extra bottle of wine he teased you about at the store. It wasn’t serious, not really. You were annoyed, sure, and maybe you snapped a little when he kept pushing your buttons in that overly sweet, overly grating way of his.

But now, sitting silently beside him in the van, it wasn’t anger you felt. Just… residual heat. An awkward hum in your chest. The kind that usually passed after an hour or two and a snack.

Bob, though--He was way too quiet. Hell, he didn’t even put on music.

Back at the compound, you dropped your bag and headed straight for the shower, figuring you’d both cool off and talk after. Give it a little space to breathe. Bob, however, disappeared.

And you didn’t notice right away--until you passed through the common room.

“Yikes,” Walker muttered around a mouthful of chips, nodding toward the hallway Bob had slinked down minutes earlier. “Looks like that’s over.”

Ava raised a brow. “Don’t be a dick.”

“I’m just saying--you can smell the tension. Like sour milk and heartbreak.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “They probably had a spat. Happens.”

But the words were already out there. Already sitting heavy. Already replaying themselves in a certain someone’s head on a loop.

Bob sat on the edge of his bed, hunched over, fists clenched on his knees.

Looks like that’s over.

Maybe Walker was right. He knew he could be too much sometimes. Too clingy. Too chatty. Too emotional. He knew you’d gotten quiet in the car. He knew he pushed too far. That little dig about the wine--he thought it was funny. He didn’t mean it like that. But you’d snapped. You never snapped like that.

And now you weren’t talking to him.

He stared at the wall, knuckles white. The air around him started to hum. The lightbulb above his desk flickered.

Something in the corner of the room shifted. A twitch in the shadows.

“It’s not over. It can’t be over. She--she’s the good. The soft. If she goes, if she’s done--”

The flicker turned into a pulse as Bob continued to spiral. A slow, creeping crawl of black reached across the ceiling like it knew he was spiraling.

Until--

“Bob?”

Your voice at the door. Gentle. Confused.

The darkness recoiled like it was slapped. The hum vanished. Bob jerked like he’d been caught doing something wrong, scrambling to sit up straighter.

You stepped inside, brows pinched in concern. “Hey. What’s wrong?” He blinked at you like you weren’t real. Like he’d conjured you by accident. “I… I thought you didn’t want to see me again.”

You frowned, walking closer. “What? Bob, no. What makes you think that?”

“‘Cause--I mean we had a fight,” he said, voice cracking. “And you’re mad at me.” He said it like a death sentence. Like it was the only possible outcome. His hands were twitching in his lap, and he couldn’t even meet your eyes.

Your heart cracked a little. “Bob. I’m not mad at you…” His eyes flicked up to yours, wide and searching. “You’re not?” You shook your head slowly. “No. I was frustrated, yeah. But not mad. And even if I was--baby, couples fight sometimes. It’s okay. It’s normal. It’s not a reason to break up.”

He stared at you like he wanted to believe it but couldn’t quite manage it. You reached up and cupped his cheek, thumbing away the tension in his jaw. “Of course we’re not over. I love you, Bob.”

That’s when it hit him. Really hit him. His shoulders crumpled, and a little sound left his throat--wet and broken and barely there.

“But Walker said—”

You sighed and immediately climbed into his lap, straddling him on the bed, cradling his face in both hands. “Walker also said sweet potato fries are ‘a government scam.’ He doesn’t know anything, baby.”

That startled a watery laugh out of him. “He did say that…”

“Exactly,” you said seriously. “He’s a raccoon in tactical gear. Hell not even a raccoon they're way smarter than him. We do not take emotional advice from him.”

Bob sagged forward, burying his face against your shoulder. His voice was muffled, soft. “I was so scared…” You held him close, kissed the side of his head. “I know, baby. But you don’t have to be. I’m not going anywhere.”

“…Even if I screw up sometimes?”

“Especially then.”

His arms wrapped tight around you like he never wanted to let go again. Like he’d been dangling off the edge and you were the only thing keeping him grounded. Because you were. And for a while, you just sat like that—holding the man who thought love was fragile, reminding him that with you, it wasn’t. Not even close.

After a long stretch of silence and soft touches, he whispered, “You scared me.”

“You scared me,” you said back, lips in his hair. “Next time, come find me. Don’t sit here and spiral. Don’t hide in your head like that.”

He hummed low, almost sheepish. “You won’t leave?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

“I don’t,” he said quickly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “God, I don’t. I never want that.”

You smiled, brushing a thumb under his eye. “Then you’re stuck with me.”

He sniffled again, the first real grin starting to peek out behind his exhaustion.

“…Can I punch Walker?”

You laughed. “Maybe later.”

Thank you for reading (and requesting!) I hope you enjoyed it! If you did please let me know by liking, commenting, and reblogging It's a simple way to show support and keep me motivated <3

Tagging:

@msfirth

@my-name-is-baby

@metalarmsandmanbuns

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@krystalyn7171

@erule

@saucysasha2035

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@staley83

@x-devilsbabygirl-x

@all-by-myself98

[catherinnn]

i love them

Thunderbolts* dir. Jake Schreier | 2025

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pov: standing and talking to yelena but ur bf is wanting to go to bed:

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he could not look better here wtf this is too much

WHAT THE FUCK

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the way i need him is not even funny

Hot Thoughts

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolts!Fem!Reader

Summary: Bob wants to surprise you by refilling your snack drawer with your favourite protein bars, but he ends up finding something that makes him rethink everything.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut, Fluff, A Bit of Angst (like self-doubt, cause the discovery sets off The Void and Sentry, Reader and Bob are in an established relationship.

Smut Warnings: A Sex Toy is mentioned and described, Fingering, Oral Sex (female receiving), Dirty Talk, and Sloppy Kissing/Making Out (drool, spit, stuff like that), Nipple/Breast Play, Mentions of Past Sexual Encounters.

Author’s Note: Loved making this little blurb to go along with my other post today, I enjoyed writing the dialogue between the three amigos, so…Sue me lol. Anyways! Hope you enjoy! :)

Word Count: 3,915

Bob just wanted to surprise you.

He wanted to show he was paying attention that morning when you had leaned on the kitchen counter in his old sweatshirt, with your hair a sleepy mess and your voice muffled by your mug as you said “I’m running low on my secret stash,” while casting him a look beneath your lashes that wasn’t exactly subtle.

Bob knew what that meant. He knew your ‘secret stash’ was hidden in the top drawer of your nightstand under some random receipts and a pair of fuzzy socks…It was your protein bars. The specific kind that was always sold out at every grocery store, the ones you hoarded like they were currency, the ones you treated like sacred offerings when you were busy or stressed or too tired to get up to make yourself something. He had even seen you barter with Bucky once for a fresh box–you gave him your last box of mango-flavoured electrolyte packs and a shoulder massage.

So Bob went out on a mission. He had gone to four grocery stores before he finally found them–tucked away in a corner shelf in the health food aisle like little golden bricks of triumph. He bought five boxes. Nearly wiped the shelf clean–but he didn’t because he felt bad for piling his arms sky high with a bunch of them. He was practically vibrating with glee when he returned to the compound, shaking in the elevator with the bag that was filled to the brim with the boxes.

When he arrived on the 83rd floor, the elevator doors slid open with a quiet ding. He stepped out, with the box-filled bag crinkling in his arms, and was immediately met with the familiar quiet hum of the compound’s upper hall. From your bedroom door that was slightly ajar, he could hear the soft hiss of the shower running from the ensuite bathroom. You were taking a shower, and his timing was impeccable.

Bob’s chest fluttered at the thought of you stepping out, warm and dewy and a little out of breath from the heat, catching sight of your drawer perfectly restocked. You’d be glowing, beaming even. Maybe you’d throw your arms around him in just your towel, and pepper kisses all over his face like you couldn’t help yourself. Maybe you’d even eat one right then and there, happy noises and all, with your feet pattering against the hardwood flooring. The image made him excited to get to the room.

He shuffled past the lounge without fanfare, tossing quick greetings to the team–“Hey, Yelena. Walker. Alexei. What’s up, Buck, hey Ava”–before disappearing into the room you both shared, closing the door quietly behind him. The bag hit the floor beside the bed with a triumphant thump.He was practically humming with excitement as he knelt beside your nightstand, and slid open the top drawer.

And like you said, it was almost empty. There was only one sad, lonely protein bar left in the box, the wrapper a little wrinkled from where it had probably been crushed by the other protein bars. He smiled to himself and pulled out the box–

And then paused.

Because peeking out from beneath the crumpled receipts and that one stray fuzzy sock was something distinctly not a protein bar. His brow furrowed at the sight, and he shifted the sock aside to reveal exactly what he was looking at.

The toy was sleek. Silicone. It was purple in colour, almost the same shade as the love bites you had left on him when you had been writhing beneath him last night after he came back from patrol and needed to distress. There was a faint shimmer that the toy had, like it was brand new or recently cleaned–it was barely noticeable unless you looked closely, and Bob was certainly doing that. The toy curved slightly at the tip, like it knew exactly where it was going and where it needed to be, with subtle ridges along its shaft and a smooth rounded base that was easy to hold. It was elegant, honestly. Discreet. And expensive looking.

Bob froze. Kneeling beside your nightstand with the protein bars now long forgotten on the floor, staring at the toy like it had just whispered his name in a taunting threat. His hand hovered for a moment, then slowly–cautiously–like he was about to disarm a landmine, he reached out and picked it up.

The weight of it threw him off a bit. It was heavier than he expected, almost like it was state of the art technology all encompassed in a sex toy. He turned it in his hand, and he noticed two small gold buttons at the bottom. He stared at them for a moment, and hovered his thumb above the ‘on’, before pressing down on it.

Wzzzzzzzzzzzzz–

It vibrated to life in his palm, thrumming with an intensity that almost startled him. He couldn’t imagine how this truly felt pleasurable, but then again he was feeling this in the palm of his hand, not on…Any sensitive areas.

His mouth dropped open slightly as he watched it twitch and pulse in his grip, the purple silicone trembling against his skin like it had just taken a breath. The curved tip shivered, and the ridges rolled in sequence with the movements. The thing was practically dancing in his hand.

“Jesus Christ,” He muttered, tapping the button above the ‘on’, watching it change its rhythm. Slower pulses, then followed by faster ones. Then a stuttering pattern that made his fingers jolt and his throat dry out. He cycled through a few more settings, growing increasingly more and more baffled. He could practically hear it whispering: You thought you were the only one?

The ridged shaft gave one final cocky shudder before he hit the power button again with a little more force than necessary, before putting it back in the drawer.

Silence.

Except, of course, for the voice in his head.

“How many settings does that thing have?!” Sentry’s voice boomed from the depths of Bob’s subconscious, indignant and unamused, “And why the hell does she even have this? Are we not good enough for her?!” He placed it down like it was radioactive, trying not to look directly at it. Trying not to imagine it. You. That sleek little curve pressing against–

Fuck sake

A slow pulse of heat crawled up the back of his neck as he chewed the inside of his lip, fingers drumming restlessly against the drawer’s edge.

“It seems like that might be the case,” The Void chimed in smoothly, and Bob felt his jaw clench instantly, “But fuck–she’s been real convincing with those orgasms though…All that gasping, and shaking, the way she scratches at our back like she’s gonna rip our muscles off…I was so sure she was–“

“Shut up,” Bob hissed under his breath.

“I can’t believe she was faking it,” The Void continued, faux mournful, as if this were the tragedy of the century, “She even squirted that one time…It was a whole puddle.”

“She wasn’t faking,” Bob whispered back, voice harsh and uncertain.

“You don’t know that.” The Void bit back.

”I do.” Bob replied, running a hand through his hair, frustrated by the conversation happening, “She’s literally soaked the sheets before. Like, multiple times. Now unless she’s peeing the bed, I’m pretty sure she couldn’t fake that.” The silence that followed wasn’t exactly reassuring through. Bob scratched the back of his neck, glancing at the drawer like it had betrayed him. A part of him knew it was irrational–he knew you had every right to own a sex toy, to use it, to keep it tucked away…When you just needed something different…

But Sentry’s voice echoed again, quieter now, “Why didn’t she tell us?” That was the part that gnawed at him. Because you told him everything. About your day, your body, what you liked and wanted and craved. About the exact ways you wanted him to touch you–how slow, how deep, and how hard. You’d begged him with tears in your eyes more than once.

And now he was stuck here, kneeling beside your nightstand, wondering if he had missed something big.

He stared at the toy for another long moment.

Was it better than him?

Did it know your body better than he did?

His heartbeat was loud in his ears as his brain continued to spiral.

And then–he heard the water shut off.

The quiet hiss of the shower faded. A pause. The telltale thump of your towel sliding off the hook. A soft hum from your throat as you dried off, completely unaware of the unraveling man outside your bathroom door.

Bob panicked.

Not enough to flee the room, but enough to scramble to pick up the boxes of protein bars and shove them into the drawer like it was part of the plan all along. He tucked the toy gently back under the receipts, then immediately winced, wondering if that was too obvious. He shifted it again. Tried to fluff the sock. Too much. Shoved the drawer closed.

Fuck.

The door opened behind him.

And there you were–barefoot, in a damp towel and flushed from the heat, little beads of water still dripping from your collarbones. You froze in place at the sight of him crouched beside the bed, cheeks red, drawer shut, and hands twitching uselessly in his lap.

“…Hey,” You said, blinking. “What are you doing?” Bob looked up slowly. His face was unreadable, but his ears were pink. His voice cracked slightly.

”I…Uh…I got your pr-protein bars.” Immediately your lips turned up into a smile, your eyes lighting up like a solar flare.

“No way. No way! Did you actually find them?!” He nodded, lips twitching like he didn’t quite trust himself to smile at your excitement.

”Five boxes,” He muttered, “Nearly wiped the en-entire shelf clean.” You crossed the room, beaming.

“God, you’re an absolute hero! Seriously. I love you so so much.” You leaned down and grabbed his face, still damp from your shower, your towel clinging loosely to your curves. Bob blinked up at you, stunned and a little dazed, as you peppered his face with warm, wet kisses. His cheeks, his forehead, his nose–each kiss landed with a soft little smack that made his ears glow redder and redder. And then, finally, your lips brushed his.

“You’re the best, Bob,” You whispered, grinning against his mouth. Then you plopped down onto the mattress with a happy little bounce, your towel riding dangerously high on your thighs. You turned toward the nightstand and slid the drawer open with a smooth tug.

The sight that greeted you made your face light up all over again.

A whole row of those familiar, impossibly elusive boxes was stacked neatly inside–your sacred stash. You let out a long, dramatic sigh and clutched your chest like it was art.

“My god,” You breathed. “This is beautiful…”

But when you turned back toward Bob, your smile faltered. He wasn’t glowing the way he usually did when you complimented him–when you kissed him, touched him, said his name in that soft voice like he was something precious. Instead, he was shrinking in on himself. Shoulders slightly hunched, fingers twitching nervously against his thigh. His gaze flicked toward the drawer and then away again, and something in your gut twisted.

You squinted at him. “Why do you look so sad?” Bob opened his mouth, then closed it. He glanced at the nightstand again, his brows drawing into the faintest frown.

“What did you find?” You asked gently, already piecing it together from his shame-filled body language and where his gaze lingered. He let out a soft sigh, cheeks pink and voice nearly inaudible.

“I found…Your to-toy.”

You blinked. Then you gave a resigned little exhale, rubbing a hand over your temple. “My sex toy?” He nodded.

You looked at him for a moment, confused. “Why do you seem sad about it?” You reached out and gently hooked two fingers beneath his jaw, tilting his face up toward yours. He resisted at first–just a little, just enough to show that whatever he was holding onto inside was clinging tight–but eventually he let you guide him, his blue eyes blinking slowly until they met yours.

That was when you saw it.

Those little white pinpoints glowing faintly in his pupils. The gold flecks flickering like sunlight through water. The emotion swimming there wasn’t just embarrassment–it was confusion, uncertainty, and something close to pain. You exhaled softly. Brushed your thumb along the soft, fleshy skin under his eye with a gentleness that made him lean in, like he was starving for contact.

“And are you and your other two musketeers,” You asked, voice low, teasing, “Having a conference about it?” Bob’s lashes fluttered.

Then he sighed and closed his eyes, head dipping slightly.

“It’s more like an…Argument,” He muttered, defeated. Your brows lifted, amused and touched all at once. You shifted closer on the mattress, the hem of your towel brushing higher up the tops of your thighs as you leaned forward and tilted your head.

“Anything I can settle?” Your voice was soft, your touch even softer as your thumb traced along his cheek, feeling the slight stubble that hadn’t been there this morning. Bob looked up at you slowly. His expression was unsure, but heartbreakingly open. A man unraveling by inches.

“They’re sa-saying…” He started, then swallowed. “They’re saying we don’t satisfy you well enough.” That made your heart crack. And, okay, you did let out a little laugh–but it wasn’t mean. It was breathy, warm, surprised.

“Oh, sweetheart,” You murmured. You reached down and unraveled the hand that had been holding your towel up, letting the thick fold of cotton droop slightly across your chest. Then you cupped his face between both palms, smoothing your thumbs over his flushed cheeks, grounding him.

“Bob,” You said firmly, “Hun.” He blinked up at you, utterly at your mercy.

“I need to use that when you’re on missions,” You explained, slow and clear, “Because you’ve literally conditioned me to have an orgasm before bed.” His brows twitched.

”I can’t sleep if I don’t have one now…I’m ruined, and that’s on you. That little thing is just…I don’t use it at any other times.” Your smile grew fond, “Especially not when I have you around.” You paused, letting the silence settle into something meaningful.

“Why would I ever reach for a piece of silicone,” You whispered, leaning in until your forehead brushed his, “When I have a literal god who trembles every time I come on his tongue?” Bob let out a sharp, low breath. You felt his hands twitch at his sides. Felt the way his jaw clenched–tight with something desperate and messy and grateful.

“That toy doesn’t talk to me,” You continued, voice soft but devastating, “Doesn’t react when I beg for more. Doesn’t lick me like it’s starving. Doesn’t beg me to ride its face.” Bob whimpered. And when you kissed him–hot and slow and full of intent–he surged forward like he was drowning in you. His mouth met yours with a messiness that had nothing to do with finesse. It was need. Tongue and teeth and breath. A collision of lips and spit and soft, open-mouthed kisses that left both of you gasping.

When he finally broke away, pupils blown, lips wet, voice barely holding steady, he rasped out:

”For my own st-state of mind…Can I go down on you?” He asked, gripping your thighs gently. That pulled a startled giggle out of you, breathless and sweet. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt like you needed something to hold onto.

“If that’s what’ll ease your worries…” You purred, voice soft and teasing, “Sure.” Bob’s eyes darkened. A slow smile tugged at the corners of his lips—not cocky, but grateful. Hungry.

And then he was kissing you again–harder this time.

Sloppier.

There was nothing polished about it. His tongue slid into your mouth with a groan that vibrated all the way down your spine. He tilted his head and deepened it, spit slicking your lips, your chin, the corner of your mouth. He kissed like he was trying to make up for something–like he was trying to replace the memory of that toy with the taste of you, the sound of your moan, the way you whimpered into his kiss and clutched at his shoulders like you were going to melt.

His hands moved down, strong and firm and possessive, gripping your thighs and hauling you higher up the mattress with barely a grunt of effort. The towel slipped even further, hanging on by a whisper.

And then he looked at you.

Took a breath.

And with shaking fingers, he opened the towel fully.

It fell away like a curtain, revealing the curve of your breasts, the slope of your waist, the plush softness of your stomach and thighs–all of you, laid bare before him like a feast. Bob’s mouth dropped open slightly, eyes roving in reverent awe.

”Christ,” He breathed, voice guttural, “You’re so pe-perfect, absolutely unreal.” He bent forward slowly, brushing his nose along the swell of your left breast. Then he groaned, the sound low and sinful, and dragged his tongue over your nipple–slow and wet, then again, rougher. His hand cupped the other breast, fingers squeezing gently, then firmer, kneading the soft flesh until you arched with a gasp.

And then he devoured them.

His mouth was everywhere–licking, sucking, nibbling. His tongue flicked and dragged, then flattened over your nipple as he sucked it hard into his mouth, groaning like he could taste your arousal through your skin. His teeth scraped lightly, just enough to make you cry out, and he groaned in approval when your hips shifted and your thighs squeezed around him instinctively.

“G-God,” You stammered, head falling back against the pillows, “Bob–baby, that feels so–”

“So much better th-than that toy,” He muttered, almost to himself, between kisses. Then he kissed down your body–sloppy and hot and breathless. Your stomach, your navel, the soft flesh just above your pelvis. His tongue left wet trails, his lips parted and panting. And then he reached your thighs, pushing them open with two wide palms and staring like he’d just found the answer to every doubt he’d ever had.

“Jesus Ch-Christ,” He whispered, voice cracking like he was in pain,“You look so fucking good all the time.”

And then he dove in.

No hesitation.

Just mouth and heat and hunger.

His tongue flattened and dragged through your folds like he was trying to taste everything at once. Then he circled your clit, lips latching around it with a soft, wet pop that made your back arch clean off the bed.

“Oh my god–” You gasped, fingers immediately diving into his hair. He groaned against you and the vibration sent your thighs trembling. Bob’s arms looped under them, dragging you closer, locking you down, as he buried himself deeper. He ate like he couldn’t breathe without it–slurping and moaning, licking and sucking, his face slick with you, spit and arousal coating his mouth and chin.

He came up just enough to suck your clit into his mouth again–harder this time–and when you whimpered, he spit on it. A slow, filthy dribble that landed hot and messy before he dove back in, licking it up like a man possessed.

Your entire body jolted.

“Bob–”

“You taste like heaven,” He growled, words muffled against your core. “Better than anything. Better than everything.”

Then one of his hands shifted–fingers curling between your thighs–and he slid two of them inside you in one slow, thick push. You cried out, legs kicking slightly as the stretch hit you all at once.

“Fucking tight,” He muttered, pumping them deep, “Still so go–goddamn tight even after all the times I’ve been in here–”

You were shaking. Gasping. Your thighs quivered and your hips rocked into his mouth, chasing each drag of his tongue, each filthy kiss against your swollen clit.

“Oh fuck, Bob…Don’t stop…Don’t fucking stop–”

“I’m not,” He growled, “You’re mine.”His fingers fucked into you hard, curling just right, while his tongue flicked your clit in fast, slick motions. He moaned into your core. Kissed it. Spit on it again and smeared it in with his tongue like it was holy.

You were close. So close.

And Bob knew it.

He growled and sucked harder, faster, curling his fingers inside you with every pump. You could hear the obscene wet noises, feel the mess building between your thighs.

“Come for me,” He begged, voice rough, desperate, reverent. “Come on, sw-sweetheart.” You shattered.

With a cry that broke on his name, your body seized, your thighs locked around his head, and you came with a tremble that nearly left you boneless. Bob didn’t stop. He licked you through it, fingers still pumping slow and deep, licking and kissing and moaning like your orgasm had saved his fucking life.

When you finally slumped back, breathing hard, chest rising and falling in aftershock, Bob pulled back slowly.

He leaned up, crawling over you slowly like he didn’t want to leave your body–not even for a second. His hands braced on either side of your trembling frame, and when his face hovered just above yours, you caught a full view of the aftermath.

His lips were glossy. His chin glistened. His nose shimmered with the mix of spit and slick he hadn’t even tried to wipe away. His eyes were half-lidded, molten gold and raw with hunger, with awe.

And when he kissed you–tongue first–it was slow, deep, and wet. He didn’t even bother cleaning up. He wanted you to taste it. Wanted to give it to you. His tongue slid into your mouth, heavy and languid, and you moaned against it, arms wrapping lazily around his neck to pull him closer.

You sucked on his tongue, slow and obscene, lips sliding messily against his like you were both drunk on the flavor of each other. A soft, desperate moan escaped from deep in your throat, and you broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against his mouth:

“Does that prove to you how much satisfaction you give me?”

Bob let out a long, shuddering sigh, burying his face in your neck like he couldn’t stand the weight of your answer. His breath was hot against your skin. His voice was low and shaky.

“I may have to make you finish a few more times…”

A beat.

He kissed your neck, licked at your throat, and whispered:

“…For good measure of course.”

[catherinnn]

cw. porn with no plot.

yes, the idea of reader getting used as a fleshlight is fantastic, but what about reader using him as a dildo? not worried about his pleasure. you're only fucking him because he's a loser with a huge cock.

you're stuffing your panties (lacy, soaked through, reeking of your perfect pussy) into his face in a failed attempt to stifle his loud, unabashed moans. he definitely hasn't been fucked before, if so, not like this. due to his inexperience, he's probably came way too many times already inside you, and so you're bouncing on his fat, slimy cock with cum sloshing inside you and leaking with every bounce onto his pelvis.

"oh fuck- shut up, will you? i'm t-trying... mmnh... to focus," you manage out. trying to sound stern is basically an impossibility when you've got his cock smushed inside you to the hilt.

his hands are fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, thighs trembling beneath you as you sink down on him and then rock your hips back and forth while completely stuffed. this method doesn't give him as much pleasure as it does for you, but you don't care. this isn't for his pleasure, or your connection. all you care about is how deep he hits when you sink all the way, how your cunt's clenching so tight he can't stop shaking.

"f-fuck-!" he whines again pathetically through the lace in his mouth, drool soaking the crotch of your panties where they're pressed over his mouth and nose. his eyes are wide, glassy, fixed on the place where you meet him. it's humiliating how desperate he looks.

"you like getting used, huh?" you pant, beginning to bounce again so the overstimulation hits once more. you let his big, drooling cock drag and catch with each rough bounce. it makes that slick, wet sound every time you move.

"ah- ye-yeah, like it soooo much," he moans so loud it vibrates through your soaked panties, tries to say something, but you shove your panties harder into his face so you don't hear what shit he has to say. his cock pulses again and you can feel more warmth spill out of you, overflowing from the tip, dripping down to his balls in glooping heaps. "such a -shit- big fucking cock wasted on a nobody like ngh! you. y-you don't deserve it."

your voice cracks halfway through but you don't stop or pretend this is anything but using him like he's just a toy that happens to twitch and moan and cum without your permission. your hands are braced on his chest for balance, his skin hot and slick under your palms from how hard he's sweating, poor thing.

you push the underwear just enough to see his eyes, which are teary and rolled back. his eyes clamp shut when you drop down especially hard, and his whole body jerks like he's seizing. his stomach tightens under your hands but the second you grind down again deep, slow and mean, he lets out a strangled sob into your panties, soaked through with spit and the sharp scent of your cunt.

"mmnh, fuck, look at you," you breathe out, "you're crying, sweetheart. is it too much?" you coo mockingly, dragging your hips up until just his swollen tip is nestled at the edge of your cunt, nearly pulling out. the area where his cockhead enters you is smeared in cum and slick. he scrabbles at your arms, needing to be back inside you. then, without warning, you slam back down, clamping hard on him.

he screams behind the fabric. legs kicking. you begin grinding down hard as punishment until you feel another twitch inside you, his cock thickening, spurting another weak, creamy load. his fifth? sixth? doesn't matter.

[catherinnn]

So yeah, I just watched Fantastic 4....

[catherinnn]

me : i’m watching f4 for the plot

the plot :