#sweet nonnie

[navybrat817]

I opened up Tumblr to see Seb Stan, trending and thought “ why is he trending?” Then I realized people are horny 

That sounds about right, nonnie! A lot of thirsty people here.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[mystra-midnight]

i’d like to order a caramel macchiatooo!

how do you think rockstar!eddie would react to you suggesting an ffm threesome…except he gets to sit back and watch?

Thank you so much for sending in an order, sweet nonnie, and I hope you enjoy your tasty drink! ily <3 <3

Just a little fyi, I'm basing this off rockstar!eddie from 'Call Me Little Sunshine' even though I haven’t released the next part yet, I hope that’s okay. I also got a little carried away, but sorry not sorry. <3 <3

Boy, oh boy, let me tell you.

You being the one to suggest a threesome leaves him floored; basically speechless, but damn if he isn't so turned on by the idea!

His sweet girl who can hardly look him in the eye when he's flirting and telling you how pretty you are.

His sweet girl who was a virgin until a few months ago.

If you suggested inviting some gangbanger or roadie in, he might not be interested; he's possessive, after all.

But if it was with someone you both knew? Maybe Chrissy or Robin? He would be all over that, like bees to honey. 

Everyone probably assumes he'd be an eager beaver, maybe dominating and controlling the moment. He thought that about himself, to be fair.

Except.

When it actually happens, he is just entranced.

He'd just watch the two of you kiss, the way your lips move so slowly, so softly, so fucking sinfully. The way you sigh into her mouth and the way she swallows the sound.

It's different from how you are with him.

With him, sure, you're soft, submissive to his dominance and the possessiveness he exudes, giving him all your firsts like a good girl.

But with her, you're soft in a different way, so pliant, and it's so fucking intense seeing her kiss you that he just watches and listens to those pretty sighs spilling from your lips.

Eddie would be in the corner of the room or at the end of the bed with his cock in his hand, stroking it slowly, grunting softly. He'd be so fucking hard: his cock would be aching as much as his heart.

"Fuck, baby", he'd groan when you cum for the first time, thighs shaking, chest heaving. It would be the hottest thing he's ever seen, and he could only imagine how wet you are now, and maybe he's just a little envious and a little jealous.

And when it’s your turn to be in control? His sweet girl who hadn’t even touched a cock before him, let alone a pussy? You bet he’d be there to help you.

You’d look at him with those wide eyes, so fucking eager but so unsure.

So he’d tell you what to do.

“Kiss her neck, baby, that’s it, she likes that.” He’d tell you, fisting his cock faster as you moved down her neck, watching as you kissed between the valley of her tits, leaving her skin shining in the low lights of the bedroom.

You’d close your lips around one of her nipples, and she’d arch into you, and you’d hear Eddie groan from across the room because fuck if you aren’t the hottest he’s ever seen you. Nervous and skittish, but coming out of your shell and into your element.

There would be a line of spit connecting her nipple to your lips as you switched breasts, giving the other one the same treatment until both stood hard and erect. 

“Touch her,” Eddie would encourage softly, not wanting to pull you out of the moment but so desperate to see more. And like a good fucking girl, you’d oblige.

Your hand moving between your bodies, fingertips moving between her pussy lips, coming away wet and shiny because she’s just as turned on as you, just as turned on as him.

He wouldn’t have to tell you to put them in your mouth; you know what he likes. You’d lick them clean, moaning the entire time, never once breaking eye contact with him from across the room.

And when you finally, fucking finally, moved down her body, you’d find her dripping. You would be pleasantly smug about how Eddie had nothing to say. He’d be caught up in the moment, transfixed by the way you nibbled on her inner thighs before moving to the apex of her.

You’d give her exactly what she’d given you — one of the best orgasms of her life.

Two fingers in her tight hole, your tongue on her clit, fucking her, stretching her, all the while, he’d be groaning from across the room until he came with a guttural groan.

But the second time it happens? The third? You can bet your bottom dollar he's doing more than watching.

He'd be like a druggie, addicted to the soft and sweet way you are with her, but how you crave his touch, his taste, him, even when she's got her head between your legs, lapping your arousal from your pussy with gentle licks.

He'd love everything about it, but he'd have to remind you, and her, who you belong to.

So he'd put you on your knees, his body shadowed over yours, nose at your cheek as you go down on her. 

Eddie would be rocking his hips in a lazy rhythm, barely easing out of your pussy before surging into you; the control gets him off, the way he overwhelms you until he consumes your thoughts.

And each time you stop to moan, the other woman momentarily forgotten, he'd lean down to growl in your ear, his voice condescending and mocking, but fuck if that doesn't just make you squeeze his cock like a desperate whore. 

"Keep going", he'd say, fingers threading in your hair so he could push your face between her legs again and press your mouth against her wet slit. And he wouldn't let you escape, would hold you there. "You're the one who doesn't want to share my cock, sweetness. You gotta make her feel good too."

And even though you'd whine, you know it's true. The thought of him fucking her instead of you is distressing, so you work her over with your mouth, your tongue, and your fingers while he consumes every piece of your innocence.

So you'd do what you're told because you're his good girl.

And he’d reward you by snapping his hips against your ass, skin-hitting skin, a repeated slap, slap, slap. 

You would be boneless. Your eyes would be glossy, cock-drunk, and fucked out. You’d have no words, nothing else to give him except needy whimpering as you eat her out, fingering her, lapping the juice from her pussy like it was ambrosia, the drink of the gods.

Eddie would love every fucking second of it.

Every thrust of his cock would make a pornographic sound because you’d be so fucking wet. Every swipe of your tongue would make her sing. It would be filthy, and indecent, and so fucking hot.

And when you're all finished, worn out, sweaty and exhausted, he’d already be thinking about the next time.

—interested in joining? check out the menu and send in your order!

[foreverdolly]

hey I just wanted to ask if you are still writing the savage bonds fic or not! haha I keep checking and I wanted to know if it's been discontinued or something maybe :))

i’m still working on savage bonds! i’m currently planning on quitting my second job because i’m genuinely just too tired to do it anymore. it will give me so much more time to write, that way you aren’t getting monthly updates anymore. i know it’s tiresome waiting for updates and i hate that for you- truly! i just have almost no time to myself these days.

it’s definitely not discontinued! i just have a very busy life and am currently working my 8-5 day job and then bartending as well on thursday, friday and some saturday nights. its exhausting 🥹

much love to you, baby!

[awesomefringey]

I'm having so much fun on twitter 🤣

https://twitter.com/solevol6/status/1812606563989025186?t=WRpODsTCp8NAGPiXsKndTw&s=19

I’m so glad you’re sharing these with me hahahaha

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

Hi! Do you have any good abo ot8 skz fic recommendations? Thank you!

I have quite a few great skz!abo recs, but not a whole lot of ot8.

Here's a few I absolutely loved though and reread often!

And they called it puppy love by kyunteez

Throw me to the wolves by sunstorms

Skz omegaverse by 8bitskeleton

Terms and Conditions Apply by hwangism

Hoodie Season, Adopt don't shop by catsonthewindowsill

[total-dxmure]

ngl im lowkey excited for cult ellie there’s nothing that i love more than unhinged characters like yes please baby kill all those people in my honor while you sing my name like a prayer 🧎‍♀️🤰

i’m super super excited to post! my plan is to have “marley and me” chipped down to the final few chapters before i finally post the first chapter of “sanguinarian”. i don’t want to have too many series going at the same time. i excel when it comes to dark romance or anything relatively “gore-esque” or spooky, so i’m super excited for you all to read it!

and yes! you get itttttt. morally grey characters have always been and always will be my kryptonite. there’s just something super sexy about a woman that isn’t afraid to kill, maim, or ruin others in your honor. plus ellie is going to be super possessive and territorial in this fic, and it’s great.

one bed trope, ellie has never been shown kindness in her entire life- girl is as tight as a rubber band and ready to snap. the sexual tension (and she doesn’t even quite understand what that really means) is going to be out the roof.

[writercole]

Alright since you are a Scott girlie (hello sister), give us some headcanons on Dad!Scott. You can specify it further if you wish.

Bestie. You just made my night. You don't understand. (Also, the aforementioned quartet features Dad!Scott!!!!)

Scott never dreamed he'd be a dad. Sure his parents wanted him to be but he never thought he would.

Until he met his wife.

Then he could envision an entire future, an entire lifetime with her and kids.

Little boys with baseball gloves.

Little girls in leotards.

Of course, his wife ensured that he could envision little girls with baseball gloves and little boys in leotards, too. Because she will not with this misogyny bullshit.

The first thing he ever buys for a child, the day of the first pregnancy test, is an MIT onesie.

His wife is not amused.

As the pregnancy progresses, he spends less time on the road.

After the newborn stage, things go back as they were. It is storm season, after all.

He really has a thing for his pregnant wife. Cannot keep his hands off of her. And when she's holding the baby or playing with the kid? Oof.

She's knocked up every other year for six years.

For the rest, you'll have to have a little patience! I've got some deep dives coming soon!!!

I will tag @a-reader-and-a-writer, @ryebecca, and @hederasgarden because they're gaga for Dad characters.

[couldawouldashoulda50]

How William react to Loren getting attention from guys in Sweden? I mean he got lots of love and attention during the summer so she needs some love too and get his ass in gear and make it official lol make him work

Nonnie - I like way you think.

Please don't get me wrong - I love William but I love the idea of someone turning the tables on him a little bit. Not maliciously - Loren is not an attention seeker…but William starts to notice that, whether she wants it or not, she’s an attention getter wherever she goes. I have mentioned before about reading about Taurus traits - they apparently can be a bit possessive and that's sort of how I picture William to be after he's spent more time with Loren.

This is what I imagined:

It was 3:22 AM and William was in a snit. In a mood. Pissy.

Beside him, Loren slept soundly and peacefully. She deserved it—she was completely fucked out. Loren often matched, or even exceeded William's sex drive, but tonight, his appetite for Loren was insatiable. After her last orgasm—where she spasmed so hard on top of him that she flopped over and clung to the mattress like it was her only saving grace—blissful exhaustion swooped in. She had almost passed out in that very spot but she willed herself to go to the bathroom first. The minute she returned, she kissed William appreciatively and fell asleep straight away.

William was tired but sleep wasn't finding him easily. A slew of thoughts began to weigh on his mind. Despite what most people assumed about William's cool and unbothered persona, sometimes things got to him, much like in moments like this.

The time Loren had spent in Stockholm was nothing short of perfect. Her presence was like a breath of fresh air—whether it was a family get-together, or a post-nap fika with friends, or even just the two of them out for a walk or lazing in bed—she just radiated goodness wherever she went. However, the one thing William noticed early on was that Loren stuck out in Sweden like a sore thumb. Her eyes were the colour of dark chocolate and her dark olive skin was that of a Mediterranean goddess. William saw it every single time they walked into a packed bar or club. He may be the reason they were escorted past the line-ups, but all eyes seemed to bypass William and fell upon Loren once they entered.

On one hand, the pride he felt knowing she was there with him… it wasn't just about her beauty. It was the way she carried herself. Her friendliness and kindness towards others. She could be reserved or be exuberant. Display her biting wit or be totally serious. How she could mouthed the words to Eminem and then gush about her love of Tchaikovsky in the same breath.

On the other hand, men, and in many cases women too, fixated on Loren. Women would approach her asking about her hair—her long, wavy mane that naturally gave off a sexy, freshly-fucked look.

But the men eye-fucked her over and over. Loren was slender with curves—seemingly a lethally magnetic combination that they could not avoid. William could mostly handle the gawking and the muttering under their breath about her tits and ass.

But it was when they approached her that he really got his back up.

It's not that he didn't trust her—he did implicitly and without any reservation. It revolved around his own hesitation about making things more official between them. He was still trying to navigate his meteoric stardom and worried about all the temptations that went along with it. So perhaps it was more that he didn't trust himself.

He didn't know what he was waiting for. Until he figured it out, she was very much fair game for other interested parties.

Which led to him sitting in bed in that moment, avoiding the hundreds of DMs and text messages that he received from the myriad friends, past hook-ups, and ones that hoped to be a future option.

Instead, he scrolled through the comments from one of Loren's segments that was edited for Instagram and TikTok. Her videos were picking up traction. Some of the comments were from her target audience, expressing appreciation for her love of languages and her easy-to-follow methods of learning conversational French.

But more and more, there were heart-on-fire emojis, fire emojis, and so on. There were offers to whisk her away for some "private lessons," some guy flaunting his yacht and asking "would she be his personal translator in Monaco," a smattering of marriage proposals, and a good number comments about her looks.

The thoughts of her being with someone else freaked him the fuck out.

William rubbed his eyes and set his phone down. He looked at Loren—she was stretched out on her back with one arm bent above her head. The sheet that covered her had slipped off, exposing her upper half to the cool air in the room.

William, who always ran a little hot, slid his hand along her midriff and then over her breasts. When she stirred from the warmth of his hands, he crawled on top of her, brushing his lips across her skin. Loren smiled and let out a soft moan as she wrapped her arms and eventually her legs around William's body.

She murmured responses to some of his lingering questions. Mainly "Do you actually know—or see—how men look at you?"

Her response was simple. "I don't care if men look at me like I'm this or that. I only care if you look at me that way."

He smiled against her skin.

Fuck, she really is a keeper, he thought.

[whoskimii]

venus ily my glorious writing queen pls notice me 🤗🤗

awww i don't know who you are sweet nonnie but i definitely noticed you 🫂 love ya baby!! (btw call me that again :3)

take care of you please, stay safe. mwah!! <33

[navybrat817]

Hi, Navy

I don't know how you knew, but they treat me very badly at work and I can't even leave because they had me sign a paper that said that if I wanted to leave I'll have to pay a specific amount of money that I have nothing of, so I'm stuck and forced to be there every day 5 days a week. Almost my whole staff is composed of assholes and I wish someone would avenge me for having them treat me so terribly. You writing Bucky headbutting the mean guy felt like a pat on my shoulder from the universe. Thank you for your time and art.

Much love from a very exhausted, crying reader

Oh, nonnie, I'm so sorry to hear this. I've dealt with toxic work environments before and it's terrible. It weighs to heavily on you. Is there any sort of way to get out of that without having to pay?

Writing Bucky headbutting that guy is very much a love letter to all of my readers. One of the reasons I love writing these fictional men enamored with the reader is because we deserve someone who will put us first, care for us, fight for us. That's what I want for everyone.

My heart goes out to you and I hope things look up. Love and thanks. ❤️

[mystra-midnight]

hi there, i’d like to order one lamington please!

i’m a short, curvy, blue eyed girl who loves wearing jeans, listening to music and painting :) i’d love a boyfriend who’d take care of me but also make me laugh

and also absolutely rail me in the bedroom

sweet nonnie, thank you so much for sending in an order! ily and hope you enjoy your sweet treat, which I also got carried away with! <3 <3

I ship you with . . . Astarion!

Astarion is a man of eclectic taste and is a many faceted individual.

He is a man who can appreciate your love of music, whether it is classical or more modern. He enjoys those quiet moments when you are in his lap, watching him strum at his lute, watching him as though transfixed.

He also enjoys the nuances of art; if you wanted him to post among the flowers, he would. If you wanted him to pose nude on the settee while you draw him — like one of your French girls — he would.

“Don’t move,” you said again, your voice soft yet commanding. Your eyes flicked up over the canvas to where he was draped over the settee, his pale skin bathed in the soft glow of the candlelight. The blanket, haphazardly thrown over his hips and thighs, left just enough to the imagination yet teased with the promise of what lay beneath. His chest rose and fell slowly with the illusion of breath, each movement accentuating the curve of his muscles, the lines of his collarbones casting shadows across his alabaster skin.

The roses you’d placed beside him matched the colour of his eyes: a deep vermillion, dark and hypnotic, like the first spill of blood on fresh snow. His gaze was steady and unwavering as he watched you, an intensity in his eyes that made your pulse quicken. There was something predatory in how he studied you as if he were less the subject of your painting and more of a hunter waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. 

“You seem to be enjoying this, petal,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing. His lips curled into a faint smirk, though his eyes never left yours.

“Maybe I am,” you answered, dipping the brush into the paint again, refusing to let him distract you. Yet, there was no denying the warmth spreading through your blood or how your breath hitched when his gaze lingered too long. Astarion shifted, a subtle movement that drew your attention back to him.

The blanket slipped just a little, exposing more of his skin, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was intentional. He was a picture of temptation, perfectly poised and posed, but there was something else, too — a vulnerability that only you could see, hidden beneath the surface. For a moment, your hand faltered, your brush moving in the wrong direction as you looked at him.

“Stay still,” you murmured, but the words came out softer than you intended, almost like a plea.

He loves seeing his partners comfortable in their own skin. It’s something that he craves, having spent so long at war with himself — hating every scar, every flaw, and using his body as a weapon rather than something worthy of love.

He would never complain or judge you because of the way you look or the way you dress, whether dressed up in something that clings to your curves or lounging in oversized clothes that feel like a second skin. You’re always gorgeous to him, and he never hesitates to let you know.

On the days when doubt creeps in — those quiet, insidious moments when you can’t see yourself the way he does — he’ll be there to remind you.

He cupped your cheeks in his palms, cold and steady, tilting your face so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His vermillion hues, dark and rich like wine, crashed against your ocean eyes, a collision of elements—fire and water, passion and calm. His touch was grounding, his fingers firm but gentle, and at that moment, the world outside faded into nothing. It was just the two of you, the heat of his palms against your skin, the steady rhythm of your breath filling the silence.

“You see yourself through such a narrow lens, petal,” he said softly, his voice low, almost reverent. He brushed his thumbs along the curve of your cheekbones, tracing the delicate lines of your face as if memorising every detail. “But I see all of you. Every part of you. And I wish you could see what I see.”

His words were quiet, but they sank deep, settling in the pit of your stomach and spreading warmth through your chest. There was no judgement in his eyes, no hesitation — only an unwavering certainty that made it impossible for you to look away. Astarion searched your gaze as if he were looking for something beyond the surface, something only he could understand. And maybe he found it.

Your heartbeats quickened, the weight of his hands anchoring you in the moment, steadying you against the swirling thoughts that had held you captive for much too long. The insecurities, the doubts — they suddenly seemed so small, so insignificant as he looked at you like that, with such intensity, as though you were the only thing in his world.

“Let me show you,” he whispered, his lips curving into the faintest smile. His hand shifted, one thumb brushing across your lower lip, a touch so soft that it sent a shiver down your spine. “Every time you forget, I’ll remind you.” There was a promise in his voice, unspoken but certain, as if he was pledging to chase away every shadow that haunted your reflection.

And as his thumb lingered on your lip, his eyes darkening ever so slightly, you knew he meant it.

And yet, for all his old-world charm and silver tongue, Astarion is a devil underneath. He knows that he is a flame and that others are moths that flock to him.

He has learned how to read people: the subtle changes in their expression and body language. He can hear the wild thundering of your heart when you’re thinking about him, and he can smell the arousal between your thighs. He’s a vampire, after all. And it leaves his head in the clouds each and every time.

In your eyes, Astarion is kind and gentle yet somewhat wild. He can give you precisely what you need: soft love and affection in those moments of doubt or rough dominance when you need to glimpse the Celestial Heavens. And you would not have him any other way.

You felt boneless, like your legs would give out at any moment. Except his hands on your hips kept you from collapsing, their grip the only thing tethering you to reality. His fingers pressed into your skin, grounding you in the moment, reminding you that you weren’t falling — not really — but sinking into something deeper, something undeniable.

His hands tightened ever so slightly, pulling you closer until he was buried within your slick, warm walls. The feeling of him filling you made your breath hitch, the heat between your thighs almost unbearable. His chest pressed firmly against your back, skin-to-skin, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, the way his body moulded to yours, the way every subtle movement seemed to ripple through your core.

The soft bristle of his chin brushed against your shoulder as he leaned in closer, lips barely grazing the sensitive skin of your ear. His breath on your skin made your pulse race, and each inhale was filled with the heady scent of him. It was intoxicating and overwhelming, as though you could lose yourself in the rhythm of his hollow breathing, in the slow and deliberate way he moved within you.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his lips brushing your earlobe. The soft, teasing kiss that followed sent a shiver down your spine, a full-body tremor he felt as much as you did. His voice dropped lower, becoming a sultry hum reverberating through your body, making every nerve alight with sensation. “Are you close, petal?”

You nodded, the words lodged somewhere in your throat, your breath too unsteady to form a coherent response. All you could manage was a whimper, a sound that came from deep in your chest as his grip on your hips tightened. His thumbs traced slow, maddening circles into your skin, grounding you yet driving you closer to the edge, teasing a fine line.

He shifted, his hips pressing forward, deeper, as his lips trailed soft, wet kisses down the curve of your neck, igniting sparks that bloomed across your skin. Each movement, each kiss, was deliberate, as if he knew exactly what you needed, pushing you closer and closer to the brink until you felt like you were unravelling beneath him.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, sending another shockwave through you. His voice was full of raw desire, but there was tenderness there too, a dominance, a possessiveness, a love. “Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

His breath ghosted against your ear as he spoke, his tone coaxing, laced with a dark promise that made your body tense in anticipation. And just like that, the last of your control slipped away, your body tightening around him, every muscle quivering as you gave in to the rising heat, to him.

—interested in joining? check out the menu and send in your order!

[foreverdolly]

psychoticness aside, feyd is so cute in savage bonds pt3 hdhhshdhj protective feyd >>>>

does he have a strong moral compass? no… not at all. does he find murder wrong?…. also no.

but if there’s one thing he does know it’s that: hurt wife = protect until everyone around her is dead.

i’m so glad you guys are liking protective feyd because there’s going to be a lot of this trope in the fic. your man is constantly out for blood.

[awesomefringey]

I've followed you, Gina and Allie for a really long time and you have brought me so much happiness. I always love seeing you guys on my feed, just wanted you to know how important you are 🤍

@twopoppies and @skepticalarrie SEEEEE?! People love & miss you! 💋💋💋

And thank you, sweetheart. We’re all in need of a bit of love, kindness and comfort at the moment for so many different reasons. It is wonderful to see that someone would take the time to tell someone else online that they’re appreciated. It means so much. 🩵

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

I know we’re all sort of concentrated on Minsung as like the big skz ship (as we should) but I really love that you have Seungbin too bc they’re my second fav ship and I honestly don’t see them as much as I should (especially with the way they’ve been acting lately👀)

I fucking LOVE SEUNGBIN.

Like. Soooo underrated.

Two quiet, more reserved guys who don’t outwardly show affection as easily but love each other deeply in their own special way?

Absofuckinglutely. Give them to me.

[total-dxmure]

watch you disappear again😶‍🌫️(no shade)

. . . my mental stability is pretty solid rn, but i'll keep you updated.

i'll be updating fics soon! just need to get back into the swing of writing.

[writercole]

Reading your fic has made me think nonstop of Scott with a breeding kink… I just know that man has fucked you in his office enough times that everyone is afraid to go there if they know you’re at the office too. Telling him you’re ready for a baby is the best news and he will fuck you all day every day until you’re pregnant. Even then it doesn’t really slow down, he gets so turned on by seeing your belly growing that he has to fuck you constantly to get through it.

😈 That is the goal, bestie. That...is the goal.

And we've got at least one more part of that to come, no pun intended.