#I WANT TO LEAVE TEETH MARKS IN HIS BICEPS

[nvuy]

doctor, doctor — veritas ratio

summary. you’re the worst person ever, distract him from his work, beat him at chess, and yet doctor ratio still can’t seem to hate your presence as much as he lets on.

notes. “nvuy please update your fics” NO.

my favourite person ever informed me that when owlbert lists all of ratio’s degrees, chemistry is not one of them, so i thought that was funny. but anyway i always lowkey forget ratio exists but then he appears in game and i go Good Lord and then go about my day. that man’s arms do something to me.

warnings. suggestive content, one intense make out session, you’re a freak LMAO, ratio thinks you’re a freak too, this is lowkey crack, i wrote this tipsy, gn reader but you do wear lipgloss.

“Hi, Doctor.”

Veritas’ fingers slid against the screen like nails on a chalkboard. A headache was already starting to form behind his eyes, and he squeezed them shut for a moment before he unwillingly opened them again.

“Yes. Good evening to you.”

Keep the pleasantries. Don’t yell. Don’t throw a punch. Don’t slam another book on anyone else’s head.

You sat down in the seat beside him with a purple soda can in your hand. “Whatcha doin’?”

Veritas cleared his throat. “I’m working.” He glanced up at the top of his screen. “And, judging by the time, you should be working as well.”

You weren’t even listening, choosing instead to pick up a stray notebook that he’d left on the desk. The page was filled with scribble and stupid math symbols—actually, that was not scribble. That was just his handwriting.

Gross. You grimaced at the page before you turned it. The next page, and the next, creased and scarred with harsh pen markings, looked undoubtedly the same.

“Work is for losers,” was all you remarked. You obnoxiously sipped at your drink.

Ratio scoffed. “How you even landed a position working for Madame Herta is beyond me. You are clearly a liability.”

You snorted. “I got hired because I’m sexy and smart.” You were picking at your nails, painted a deep purple like his hair. “You’re only here because Miss Asta needed help. After her problem is solved, you can go back to moping about how you don’t have a chemistry degree.”

You watched his jaw visibly tighten. His teeth gnashed together, and you swore you could hear them grinding behind his lips.

“It is a work in progress,” was all he said.

“Yap, yap.” You made a talking gesture with your hands. “I’m the professional here. That’s why Miss Asta made me lead chemist.”

Such a shame your ego overshadowed such a pretty face.

“What do you want?” he asked, trying to return to his notebook.

“I want to play chess.”

“I’m busy.”

You blew a raspberry. You punched him playfully in the shoulder. You almost hurt your knuckles bopping his bicep. “You’re just scared you’ll lose.”

His glanced up so quickly you swore you heard his neck crack. He raised an eyebrow in a challenging gesture, as if daring you to repeat yourself.

You only stared at him expectantly.

“One game,” he rushed out, face reddening in frustration. The look he gave you could’ve killed, but you knew him better than that. His strangely jacked physique wasn’t built to maim, and if he wanted to smack you with his tablet, he would’ve done so already. “And if I win, you will leave me alone.”

“Mmm, okay.” You shrugged. “And if I win, I get a kiss.” You tapped your cheek twice.

Veritas reeled back. Then, taken aback, he spluttered, “that’s all?”

You took another sip of your drink.

Then, you blinked. “Yep.”

Ratio, too, reciprocated, blinking wildly as if he hadn’t even processed what had come out of your mouth.

You grinned at him, eyes crinkling below your lashes as he eyed you down like he was viewing a sample through a microscope.

Then, he sighed. “Fine.” He tapped away on his screen. One of his floating gadgets projected a holographic chessboard onto his desk. “I suppose somebody has to dull that ego of yours.”

You leaned back in your seat and waved him off lightly. “You can go first.”

The chessboard flipped, and the white pieces faced him.

*ೃ༄

“Hey, does this thing have speech detection?” You leaned closer to the board. “Knight to B4.”

As expected, the small porcelain knight upon the board moved forward into its newly assigned position.

Ratio scoffed, clearly irritated. His fingers tapped idly against the desk. “You are so frustratingly lazy. It’s a miracle you get your work done, and such a shame it impedes your potential brilliance.”

You only made another talking motion with your hands. As he thought long and hard about his next move, you yawned. He took everything so seriously.

No wonder he was so jacked. He was constantly tense. It probably counted as a workout.

“You think I’m brilliant?” you asked with a smile.

“I think you have selective hearing.” Finally, he moved one of his pieces forward. “But, yes. Miss Asta speaks highly of you.”

“Aww. I’ll give her a smooch later.” That was a relief to hear, actually. Sometimes you worried if she’d boot you out of your position because of your tardiness. It was good that she still wanted you working in the station, despite lagging behind on reports and important meetings.

When you glanced up from the board after telling a pawn to move forward one space, Ratio’s eyes caught yours before he briskly looked down at the hologram once more.

Ratio was trying to read the board. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Just what are you doing?”

“Winning.”

“You are not winning.”

“Sure I am.” You leaned back in the seat once more. “Checkmate.”

Veritas’ eyes snapped up to gawp at you.

“Excuse me?”

“Checkmate,” you repeated. “I know I’m distracting. I have that effect on loser nerds with big egos.”

Veritas was staring at the board again. He was trying to piece together your previous moves, as the holographic board began to play in reverse. He was no cheat, no, never, and you didn’t expect him to do it as you were watching either, but it was clear as day.

He lost.

Your tongue carded along the rim of the soda can. “L-O-L.”

“This doesn’t even make sense,” Veritas mumbled, fingers rubbing circles into his temples. “You didn’t even have a plausible strategy.”

“Yeah, I did.” You placed a defensive hand over your heart. “You just don’t know it, because I have such a great poker face.”

“Chess doesn’t warrant a poker face.”

“Well, then, if you’re not willing to know my genius strategy–”

“No.” Veritas glared at you. “You will tell me.”

“Sure. I’m more worried about my reward, though.”

The look he gave you made you howl with laughter. It was a twist of his lips into something unsavoury as if he’d just swallowed a shot of vinegar. His brows knitted together and those unfairly long dark lashes casted a jagged shadow over his cheeks.

The chess board disappeared with a small noise and the screen returned to normal.

You leaned forward, batting your own lashes at him.

Veritas, after displaying a shaky grimace on his lips, met you halfway and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to your cheek.

You looked offended when he pulled back.

You whined. “What was that?”

“Your reward,” he argued.

“You just brushed your lips on me. Do you kiss everyone like that?” You were quite literally sulking, more so to get on his nerves.

It was working.

You swore you noticed a vein twinge on his temple. “I don’t just kiss anyone, thank you. Especially not over a game of chess.”

“You’re not getting my genius strategy, then.”

“Fine.”

This time, when his lips went for your cheek again, you turned your head.

Veritas let out an embarrassing noise that you’d never forget.

When he tried to pull away, clearly flustered and radiating so hot you were convinced he’d combust right there in his chair, you locked a hand in his hair.

Flustered for a moment, he then returned your enthusiasm ten fold, large hands curling around your waist and keeping the excited jittering of your legs still.

“Somebody will see,” he mumbled against your lips quietly.

To address his concerns, you dipped down lower in your seat behind the wall of his desk. Anyone that was watching would look away if they knew what was good for them.

Pulling away from his lips proved difficult. You caught the taste of his evening coffee, as well as the scent of cashmeran, and something that smelled faintly of chestnut and the smoky smell of a nice warm fireplace.

“You smell nice,” you whispered. Your voice was slightly hoarse. “What’re you wearing?”

The grin you had stretched on your face said it all.

Veritas snarled against your lips. “A physics degree.”

His lips hit your teeth when you grinned. “Can’t taste better than a chemistry degree.”

“You are horrible.”

Your hand crept along the waistband of his pants, feeling along the ribbons and the sleek expensive material. It was like cotton, but somehow even softer against your fingers, as if the thread count was bordering on six-hundred.

He reeled back when he finally processed the feeling of your fingertips slipping below his clothes. “Watch yourself.”

“Blah, blah, blah.” He made no effort to remove your hands, so a finger then hooked beneath the border of the hole over his chest. “Come ‘ere, Doctor.”

The light in your eyes was almost as intimidating as when you pressed your lips back into his, this time firmer, as if you were trying to mould your skin to his.

His skin was surprisingly warm for how cold he behaved. His scent was addicting. Freshly printed books and a warm winter’s night.

It tore a low and pleasant groan from your throat.

Surprisingly, he did not push away when your lips slipped from his mouth and traced the line of his jaw.

Instead, he sighed defeatedly and angled his jaw for you. You hummed, clearly content.

“Enjoying yourself?” he mused.

“Mhm.” You wondered whether he’d let you suck a bruise beneath his ear. “You’re soft. For a man.”

Veritas scoffed at that. He would insist that you were softer, but he instead bit his tongue. Of course he was soft. He took care of his skin, and he didn’t waste his life away drinking that filth you called soda.

He usually hated that artificial grape flavour, but he supposed the taste of your lips helped quell the awful amount of sugar still resting on your tongue.

He stiffened beneath you. He hadn’t even realised you had crawled into his lap. “Are you leaving marks?”

“Yep.” Your lips had dipped down to the base of his neck to stain the thin stretch of skin there.

“Oh, you–!” His eyes squeezed shut when your teeth carded along his jugular in warning.

The poor man looked two seconds away from a heart attack. His pupils almost turned to slits. He couldn’t tell whether he wanted to push you away or draw you closer. It was a mix of heat and blur that made his vision swirl with colour.

He felt unreasonably dizzy. He was grateful he was still sitting at his desk, for he was sure his knees would have given out beneath him otherwise.

Your lips pulled back for a moment. Sticky. He could smell a tinge of kiwi fruit from the gloss smeared over your lips. He was sure it was lathered all over his jaw like thick paste. The remaining hour of his shift would be a mix of rushing the rest of his report, and trying to scrub your makeup from his face.

Part of him wanted the stains to stay there, as unprofessional the thought was.

His silent brooding while your thighs warmed his were interrupted by approaching heels. Black kitten heels, to be exact, with a dark pinkish plum soles. He recognised her footsteps from miles away.

His heart stopped.

“Um… Doctor Ratio? I’m just receiving word that– oh my stars!”

Too late.

Veritas sprang from his seat, shoving you back into your own chair, much to your chagrin. Your hand fell from beneath the material of his shirt.

The damage had already been done, however.

Poor Lead Astronomer Asta stood frozsn, face red, holding a clipboard with way too many pink highlighted paragraphs on the paper.

Veritas awkwardly cleared his throat, and tried to wipe the sticky gloss off his lips. “The report will be with you in an hour.”

Asta merely blinked at him. Her cheeks were brighter than her her.

Her eyes then flitted towards you. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

You waved. “Hey, queen.”

Then, she nodded once in a greeting, squeaked an, “okay, thanks,” to the doctor and then rushed away, still hot in the face.

You could see the uneven rise and fall of Veritas’ chest. You were sure his heart was racing beneath his skin; yours was exactly the same, maybe arguably even quicker.

“Terrific.” Veritas turned his head to ridicule you. Scary for a dude with lipgloss smeared all over his face. “You’ve traumatised the poor girl.”

He heard you sigh. “I was just getting started.” You slouched in your chair, defeated. You checked your watch, noticing the giant seven tick over. “I’m hungry.”

“Eat, then. It’s dinner time.” He sat back down in his chair after he was sure he’d cleaned his face of your makeup.

“I was having dinner.” You finished the last of your soda and tapped at the can absentmindedly with your nails. “And was just getting to dessert.”

“You have an awful tongue.” He waved you off with his hands, fed up. “Now, shoo. I’m busy.”

“You’re so boring. What do you do for fun? Read?” He opened his mouth to answer, but you stopped him before he could embarrass himself even further. “Don’t answer that.”

Veritas rolled his eyes.

Instead, he chose to ignore you and pull the data back up onto his screen. His handwriting is still the most horrific thing you’ve ever seen, but it’s almost fascinating watching him write like that.

It’s just a line that only he can understand. Like his own nerd language.

You found it sort of hot.

Your eyes darted over to the bathroom door. “Hey, Doctor… What about–”

His eyes flared, and his grip on his pen grew tighter. He almost split a hole into the paper. "We are not having a rendezvous in the bathroom, nor will I be coming home with you.”

"Aww."

"But, for what's its worth, I commend your bravery in asking such a bizarre thing."

Ooh, praise. Lovely. "Eh." You clicked your tongue and leaned forward to kiss the side of his hair. “Worth a try.”

When you pull away, he does not look up, but his cheeks are tinged a lovely pink.

[doodle-pops]

Love Language

CEO & Sugar Daddy!Fingolfin x f!reader

Request: Sending you a request for CEO+Sugar Daddy Fingolfin x reader, where reader doesn’t do well on one of her tests at school so he ‘punishes’ her / ‘helps’ her study for the next one? - Anon

A/N: Not gonna lie, it’s such a perfect time to post this fic when lots of you already finished your exams and are awaiting your results. Hehe, enjoy :)

Warnings: female reader, smut, CEO & Sugar Daddy!Fingolfin, dom!Fingolfin, sub!reader, fingering, blindfolding, rough sex, orgasm denial, spanking, daddy & authority kink (used once), punishment, dirty talking

Words: 3k

Synopsis: Failing your exams was one thing, however, lying while keeping it hidden was another, and Fingolfin made sure you remembered that.

Manspreading on the edge of his bed, left arm resting on his knee while the right was busy unfastening his tie, he followed up his actions with the unbuttoning of the first two buttons. A small peak of his chiselled chest as the two buttons became undone, leaving the mouth-watering sight of the neck you so loved covering in hickeys and teeth marks when he took you hard. His sleeves were already rolled to his elbows, veins prominent and delicately wrapping around his arms, leading to his large hands that always gripped you like his life depended on it. A quick shuffle of his arms as he tugged the tie from around his neck, and his biceps curled under his sleeves, looking beefy and sturdy—all his years of hitting the gym paid off wonderfully.

“Do you have any idea how much I invested in your success?” His voice was a low, dangerous murmur, dripping with controlled anger. He slowly rose off the bed and chartered over to his mini bar to pour himself a shot of brandy, something to add heat to the fire already building within his core. The entire time, his eyes never left yours as he tilted the glass to his lips, staring at your meek form across the room. His eyes were filled with disappointment and frustration. “And you dare lie to me, thinking I wouldn’t find out?”

His words cut through the silence, sharp and authoritative. You could barely manage a syllable, much less a guttural sound from the waves of anger rolling off him. You felt the heat in your stomach travelling to regions it shouldn’t, knowing how things were about to escalate. Nevertheless, your panties started soaking as your arousal slowly seeped through your fold and you shifted on your feet, something Fingolfin noticed.

Gently resting the glass down, Fingolfin wiggled out of his dress shoes, followed by his socks and pushed them aside to stand bare feet on the carpet. You weren’t even aware of his presence before you, as he crossed the room with blinding speed to tower above you, intimidatingly. “Strip. Now.” The command was issued with such finality that you didn’t dare hesitate to resist or sass. Your hands trembled slightly as you undressed, feeling the weight of his disapproval heavy in the air.

Once you were completely bare, he circled you slowly, inspecting you as if deciding your fate. Goosebumps appeared in every area his cold eyes fell upon. “You failed me,” he said, his tone cold. “I expected much more from you, and worse, you tried to hide it from me. Such behaviour needs to be rectified, and what better way than to clarify it via my favourite method? Do you not agree?”

“Yes,” you curtly responded, not wanting to bore him with any extra syllables in his current state of dissatisfaction, while further understanding what you had signed up for. Walking for the next few days was out of the question. Thankful, you were on holiday, so you could more than afford to lounge in bed all day and night—just not in the manner he was about to make it.

There was a low grumble in his chest at your reply. His head dipped to lowly his lips to your ear. “Yes, who?”

“Yes, sir,” you corrected your posture immediately at attention.

There was a distinctive clicking of his tongue behind you and the faint whisps of his breath against your neck. Then, very delicately, you felt his fingers pressing against your lower back, guiding you to his pristine sheets and positioning you to kneel with your face pressed into the mattress. Fingolfin’s fingers traced along your spine, a deceptive gentleness in his touch. “You need to understand the consequences of your actions,” he continued, his voice softening just enough to send shivers down your spine and while leaving you anticipating.

Moving behind you stealthy, you missed the sound of his hand slicing through the air yet felt the stinging pain of the contact it made with your ass. The suddenness made you gasp, but there was no reprieve. Another smack followed, then another, each one harder than the last, until your skin was flushed and stinging. His hand placement was strategic as he lowered it with each slap until his fingertips brushed against your wet folds with intensity. Your body naturally recoiled, however, his left hand reached out to entangle your tresses, giving you a slight arch. “No running. Count them,” he commanded with a hint of seduction. “I want to hear you acknowledge every single one.”

Unable to retaliate given the situation and the level it would become should you, your lips parted with a faint whisper that grew into a quiver, under the attempt to not moan. “One…two…three…” Each number was punctuated by another sharp spank, his hand firm and unyielding. Fingolfin’s other hand drifted from your hair to firmly, without aggression, grip the nape of your neck, holding you in place, ensuring that you couldn’t run from your punishment.

After the tenth strike, he paused, his hand resting on your reddened skin, soothingly rubbing the area. There was a moment where he admired the welts of hands left on your ass. You felt the bed dip to your left before the ghosting of his hot breath on the tip of your ear. “Do you think you deserve mercy?” he taunted, kissing the tip of your ear before biting it. “After lying to me, do you think you deserve any kindness?”

In a broken whimper, you managed to stutter out. “P-Please, ‘m sorry.” In return, you missed the way his eyes rolled but felt his heavy exhale before he removed his hand from your ass to dangle the tie before your eyes. You knew what came next.

Not waiting for you to comply, he released his hold on your neck to neatly secure the tie around your eyes, cutting your sight away from the world. The fresh scent of his cologne waffled through your senses and made your head spin. He always smelt delicious—a blend of mint and spices.

Once you were decorated, he pressed his hand against your back, pushing you head first, into the mattress whilst parting your legs to run his fingers through your wet cunt. He wasted no time in executing the second part of your punishment the way his fingers glided through your folds, toying with your clit. Already needy and dripping despite the harsh treatment. “Look at you.” His voice held no form of adoration like it usually did whenever he admired your form. Instead, they were filled with condescension. “Undeserving of what’s being given.”

His words hung over you like threads had woven themselves into each syllable to taunt you further. You felt one of his hands press into your upper shoulder while his other continued working their way through your, avoiding your clit. The sound of his rich laughter ghosted through the air as he mocked the way you squirmed, turned into a hiss as he sunk them deep inside and crooked them directly towards your sweet spot. In no way were you allowed to shift away from his wicked touch as his hand curled around the back of your neck.

“F-Fuck! P–…lease! God I hate you!” you cried out, finally finding your voice to match his tempo. Your fingers curled into the sheets, fisting at it due to your lack of sight and inability to turn your head and glare at him. The immediate trembling of your body as he continued to twist and crook his finger through your slick, releasing a loud and lewd squelching signalled how close you already were.

But Fingolfin was always a mile ahead of you in terms of making a comeback because he wasted no time growling. “That’s a lot of words coming from a smart mouth that was unable to produce a single Valarin lexicon for your orals. Since when did you get so clever?”

Before you could reply, using the grip around your neck, he hoisted you to your knees and pressed the tips of his fingers against your sweet spot, bringing you close to the edge but never allowing you the release you craved. “Go ahead, mumble some more. Be a smart ass for me princess. Show me how skilled your pretty little tongue is!”

As his words left his lips, you didn’t have the chance to respond as his two fingers curled and thrust into you with blinding speed, leaving you trembling. Whining in choked sobs as drool dribbled down your chin as he squeezed the air out your lungs with his actions, you vibrated. There was nowhere for you to escape but his embrace that loomed behind like a menacing figure with purpose. With every torturous rub, your body bowed and buckled like a worm, and he laughed with a deep rumble in his chest, revelling in the pleasure of your reactions. Nevertheless, this was all a walk in the park the more his fingers flexed against your spongey walls, feeling them clamp around him like a vice grip. “‘M sorry, daddy. Won’t…do…again.”

“Sound to me like you would," he scoffed. “Your cunt seems to enjoy my fingers...feel how tight she is around me. Gripping me with absolute want.” Indeed he was right. Your walls clung to him, refusing to let him slip out smoothly and forcefully sucking him back in deeper.

You shook your head as high-pitched squeals slipped out, your hips moving on their own accord, matching the rhythm of his fingers.

“Really? Do you think I should let you cum, hm? After your poor performance that I spent thousands of dollars on for the best results,” he hissed in your ear, nibbling on the lobe and giving it small tugs before dipping his head to bite the junction of your shoulder. “You gave me nothing good in return except a pathetic excuse. Do I not spoil you enough? Answer me!”

Your fingers found a way to dig into his thighs, unfortunately, they were still covered in his pants, reducing your attempts at marking him. However, it provided support for the wicked torment he delivered. You were constantly trapped in purgatory as his fingers provided pleasure while denying you relief. “P-Plea—”

“Pardon? I didn’t hear you,” he reminded in a patronising tone. His eyes fluttered upwards to glance at you through his dark lashes, enjoying the way your face twisted as the waves of pleasure came on harder. “Speak up, loud and clear, or you’ll regret it.”

Choking on a silent scream, your breath came out in pants and broken sighs. “Oh fuck, please! Just let me cum!”

“You don’t deserve to cum,” he taunted, pulling his hand away just as you were about to orgasm. “Not yet.”

Ignoring your pathetic cries, his hand around your neck travelled down your back to position you into a foul arch while he kicked your legs apart. Easily he wasted no time positioning himself behind you, undoing his trousers—erection spring free, heavy with want and anger at the wait—and rubbing the tip of his aching cock through your puffed-up folds, deeply inhaling at the sensation of your wetness coating him. You were dripping wet, just the way he enjoyed having you for every session. All flushed with ache and want, begging him to put out the flames and stuff you till thy kingdom come.

And indeed he loved every second of the torture he took, applying his patience as he rubbed your clit and nudged it with his tip. Your cries went in one ear and escaped the other without care since you didn’t have any regard for the finances you wasted. Then, without warning, he pushed into you roughly, a sharp contrast to the teasing touches from before. “You don’t get to enjoy this,” he growled, not wasting a second to build his tempo, and going directly for the kill. “This is for me, not you. You’re not the one frustrated and in need of relief after your stunt—you could never be.”

It turned out that learning of your failure at the same time one of his clients entered a lawsuit, created a torrent of pent-up frustration. His plan was to spend the entire evening with you—not much had changed, only with a minor adjustment of your orgasmic denial and increase of roughness.

One hand, firm around your neck while the other gripped your hips, you were forced into a profoundly painful arch to take the rough pounding of his hips meeting your ass. Every thrust caused his cock to faintly brush against your sweet spot, tickling your sensitivity and never granting you a reprieve. With great precision, Fingolfin ensured that you felt every vein on his cock and thrust, as he pushed deeper and harder with dominance. You could feel the way his veins rubbed your walls just right, fitting in all the cracks and crevices just the way you were moulded from the start. At the same time, it was disgusting that he hadn’t removed his clothes to grant you the opportunity to let you feel his silky skin on yours.

You wanted to feel the ripple of his muscles as he clenched and flexed his thighs against your body the deeper and harder he went. This materialistic barrier only fuelled your anxiety at the wreck of punishment this was turning out to be.

“Even when being…punished, you’re still wet…and tight. Fuck!” he groaned. “Do you think you deserve to cum?”

“S-Sir, p–…please. ‘M sorry,” you cried out, hands fisting the sheets as you sought after your orgasm. “Won’t…do…again…”

“Of course, you would not perform that same stunt again,” he growled and tightened his grip on your hip. His rapid, deep strokes never stopped as he pressed you into the bed, pinning you under his weight. “You wouldn’t want to miss the feeling of my cock in your pussy, would you? How good it feels to claim you over and over again as mine.”

Squeaking, unable to form a coherent reply, he slowed his pace and pulled all the way out, leaving his tip inside before pushing back in roughly. Your body rattled, the air knocked out of your lungs and the scream lodged in your throat. Soundless sobs were your relief as you prayed he would grant you mercy with each powerful thrust from his cock. And yet, he continued to purposefully miss your sweet spot, aiming to get himself off alone. “Do you understand now? he asked as he leaned down, voice deeply rooted in your ear as he panted. “Do you understand what happens when you lie to me? Failing is one thing, but lying to me…”

You could only nod—or hope that you did—your voice lost in the intensity of the moment. Only the sound of his hips meeting your ass and his cock sliding in and out of your wet cunt echoed. Like music to his ears on a stressful day. His grip was unyielding as he continued to pound into you, slow and deep, relishing in the power he held over you. Each thrust was a reminder of his authority in your life.

The elaborate rolls of his hips and the articulate angle of his cock left you in a frenzy. He did everything to miss your sweet spot, focusing on pleasuring his cock with the softness and warmth you provided. The lewd echoes of his cock penetrating deeper fuelled your pussy to grow wetter, on the verge of squirting, but not quite there. Ever so rarely, he would laugh in your ear as you attempted to squeeze him, wanting him to stay longer. The sweet grips of your lips around him was sinful and made his head spin.

You were going to be the dead of him. No wonder why he picked you at first sight. It was pure instincts telling him how good you would feel wrapped around him even if you were to disappoint. Your pussy had a magic to it that he couldn’t get enough off—the relentless pounding and groans told it all. He’d always choose to fuck you as his life depended on it as a punishment, and who were you to resist.

There was a moment when you could barely keep it together as your head started spinning. Toes curling into the bedsheets, nails fisting the pillows, and head buried into the mattress, you muffled your whines as he finally brushed his tip against you. But you should have known his strategy from the start. Rapid and deep thrusts against it left you fighting for your life as the fire pooled in your abdomen. Your walls clamped harder around him, forcing his pace to stutter and pants to turn into groans.

“You like that...don’t you? You wanna cum all over my cock for free,” he groans, gyrating his hips to rub his tip against your sweet spot. “Maybe I should let you, but not now.”

And with ease, his groans turned into deep grunts before you felt his cock pulsating and his thrusts faltering. The fluid motion of his hips stuttered as he tried to continue the powerful rolls of his hips, wanting the sound of his heavy balls to slap loudly against your wet pussy. Yet soon, with a satisfied groan, Fingolfin’s hips stilled, and his grip tightened around your neck and hips, as he spilled his hot, sticky cum inside you. He was quick and sharp to pull out, dabbing his forehead to remove any beads of sweat while gazing at your trembling, weeping form that held his cum, slowly oozing out.

Straightening his posture and rising to full height, he gave a light tap to your ass and commanded. “Get up. On your knees on the floor, now,” he muttered, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt to discard it, along with his trousers. He observed how clumsy you were as you carefully climbed off the bed and onto the floor to kneel before him. Reaching out to grip your chin, he focused you on his authoritative figure towering above with his rigid cock, pronounced and ready for another round. Even with the blindfold covering your eyes, you could feel the intensity of his gaze burning holes into yours.

“I want you to remember this night carefully because I would hate to repeat this all over again,” he whispered lowly, cupping your chin to tilt your head upwards and running his thumb over your lips. “Now part your pretty lips for me while the night is still young. I have a lesson to teach…”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @aconstructofamind @sakurayaxd @addaigio @elficially-done-with-life @involuntaryspasms @eunoiaastralwings

[cricketnationrise]

Took me forever to send you this because I couldn't decide which Beyoncé lyrics to send (if the ones I picked aren't inspiring, feel free to request different ones, there's so many to pick from!) so I hope i'm not too late 🙃 this is so fun, thank you for organizing this fest!

9:26pm, the brownstone, Alex Claremont-Diaz, "Private show with the music blasting / He like to call me Peaches when we get this nasty", rated E 😈

My Ao3 username is Calou 😊

fitting that you were right under the wire in submitting because it took me almost five months to get to this prompt. i hope its worth the wait!

a big thank you to everyone who submitted and to everyone who's been reading and commenting along the way. i love doing the ficlet fests, the prompts are always a delight and let me get out of any writing funk i find myself in. yall rock.

as a parting gift for Ficlet Fest 500, please enjoy exactly 1000 words of straight gay up filth, as requested in the GC.

read the rest of the ficlets here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

9:26pm, the brownstone

Alex’s brain falls out of his head when Henry comes downstairs. He apparently took Pez’s dress code seriously for once; he’s dressed to fucking impress. (Alex is so far past impressed he’s having heart palpitations.) Henry looks good in everything, from a full suit to sweatpants, but when he lets himself relax, lets himself lean into being one hundred percent himself, he ascends to a whole other level.

His white shorts are going to be the death of Alex. They’re short, showing off strong calves and stacked, polo-playing thighs, and just this side of respectably opaque. But if there’s a strong enough backlight, anyone who isn’t intimately familiar with Henry’s particular topography, will be. The shorts would be enough to cause Alex a factory reset, but then he notices the shirt. It’s halfway unbuttoned, straining to accommodate Henry’s wide shoulders, and short enough in the torso that he’s baring midriff. And it’s one of Alex’s shirts. The novelty ice cream cone print has never looked so fucking good. 

Alex can see the tops of Henry’s hipbones—they’re mouth-wateringly obscene. Henry shouldn’t be allowed out of the house like this; he’s a danger to everyone around him. Drivers will run their cars off the road, pedestrians will walk into poles, et fucking cetera. Really, Alex has a fucking duty toward public safety to tackle Henry onto their couch and take him apart with his teeth. 

So he does.

Henry makes a noise somewhere between a squawk and a whimper and Alex wants to lick it out of his mouth. He captures Henry’s lips in a kiss as they land, barely letting him breathe, let alone put up a token protest because he feels like they should be social. Henry groans and melts into the cushions, letting Alex do whatever he wants. The trust Henry puts in him is heady, and Alex spirals that much higher when Henry throws his arms around Alex’s neck to keep him in place. His own hands are busy mapping every bit of exposed skin on Henry’s chest, slipping beneath Alex’s own fucking shirt to reach the scant inches that are still hidden below fabric. Alex takes advantage of Henry’s gasp of pleasure when Alex scratches lightly at his bicep to slip his tongue inside Henry’s mouth.

Both of them are already breathing hard, the sound of spit and panting filling the air. Alex manages to stop kissing Henry’s mouth, but only to nip down his throat, pausing at the pulse point to bite down. Henry always complains about having to be careful of covering the marks Alex leaves, but he never actually asks Alex to stop. (They were thirty minutes late to meet Nora for brunch last month when Alex caught Henry pressing down on a hickey in the bathroom and Alex had to bend him over the sink about it.) Henry’s moan at the graze of Alex’s teeth against his neck is a siren song; the way he tips his head to the side to give Alex more room, a gift from the gods. 

Henry pushes at his head, directing Alex with a pleading whine. Alex is only too happy to oblige, nipping and licking and sucking down Henry’s sternum, fingers fumbling to open the shirt. He spends a few minutes teasing Henry, alternating kisses with quick bites across his soft belly. Alex noses along his waistband, inhaling the scent of sweat and something uniquely Henry. Alex’s hands tighten on Henry’s thighs involuntarily when Henry’s fingers find a home in his hair and pull tight. Alex can’t wait another minute to get Henry’s cock in his mouth.

Alex liberates his curls from Henry’s hands and rearranges them so that Henry is sort of upright and Alex kneels on the floor between his legs. Alex means to dive in at once, but he has to take a second to fully absorb the fucking daydream of a man in front of him. Henry’s eyes have darkened, pupils blown wide and clouded with arousal. He’s sagging into the couch, relying on the furniture to keep him sitting up, seemingly unable to count on his muscles to do the job. Henry’s flushed from his cheeks to his hips, his hairline starting to darken with sweat. Alex’s gaze keeps snagging on the hickey he left—one fine day he’ll give into the desire to leave a whole goddamn collar of them.

Henry shifts, drawing Alex’s attention to his erection, straining against the white fabric of his shorts. Alex can’t help but to give him a firm stroke to his bulge, delighting in the strangled gasp it pulls from Henry. He can feel Henry twitch beneath his palm, can feel Henry’s racing pulse through the fabric, and then he’s moving—undoing Henry’s fly and pulling down his shorts and briefs in one fell swoop.

Henry actually shouts when Alex takes him to the root in one long smooth motion—he’s never been more glad for his lack of gag reflex. He stays there for a moment, breathing through his nose, the tip of Henry’s cock right at the back of his mouth. He looks up at Henry through his eyelashes. Henry’s practically shaking with the effort of holding himself still. How unnecessarily gentlemanly. Alex pries Henry’s hands out of the couch cushion and back into his hair before moving his own hands to Henry’s hips. He blinks twice, their nonverbal green signal, just to really drive the point home. With a mumbled curse, Henry starts thrusting and Alex closes his eyes, groaning every time Henry’s cock dips into his throat.

Alex’s jaw aches from the stretch, and his own cock is leaking and pressing uncomfortably against his zipper, but he couldn’t care less. He’s got Henry filling his mouth, surrounded by his hands and thighs and noises and taste—

They’re definitely going to be late to Pez’s party, if they even make it out of the house. Alex couldn’t give less of a fuck if they don’t; there’ll be other parties.

[emeraldbabygirl]

I have every intent on being nsfw on my main ion care suck me ass

WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF WOOF BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF ARF WOOF WOOF BARK ARF BARK BARK ARF WOOF ARF WOOF BARO BARK WOOF

[arieslost]

personally since I want to take a nice bite outta oscar (and you do too)

what about an oscar x gf!reader who just constantly bites him, not hard enough to leave a mark (thats only in bed) but just a little chomp

like he has an arm around her shoulder while talking to Lando and she just turns her head and *chomp*

lord knows i wanna give that man a nice little monch. just a little 🤏🏻 little bit

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

chomp | op81

something about oscar unlocked the habit within you. he’s just so… yummy. all the time. so one day you acted on the urge to bite him. you did it gently, just barely sinking your teeth into the skin covering the taunt muscle of his bicep when you were cuddled up together in bed. he liked it; encouraged it even, so you never really looked back.

instead of “pinch me,” he soon adopted the phrase “bite me” in its place. it was just an affectionate thing that you did when your feelings for him became so overwhelming words failed you. it happens more often than not— just looking at him and knowing he’s yours is enough to render you speechless.

his instant enjoyment of your gentle bites had you dismissing the behavior as normal quickly, so it now comes as a surprise to you when other people have a visceral reaction to it.

you never pay much mind to what people say on social media, particularly twitter, but almost every day you’re greeted with the sight of you being caught biting oscar and hundreds of people asking what your problem is. it mostly stemmed from the one time that oscar asked (more like begged) you to leave a mark in the throes of a passion-charged moment that happened the night before qualifying and thus it was clear as day to everyone in the paddock the next morning.

you were usually careful to bite parts of him that were almost always concealed. his thighs, his hips, his shoulders, the junction between his shoulder and neck. but he’d been adamant that you bite his neck and leave a mark, and who were you to tell him no? so the whole world ended up becoming privy to your little habit. but oscar never gave anyone the time of day when asked about it, so it never crossed your mind to stop.

now, lando had been the very first to tease him about that infamous mark on his neck, but he’d never been there to see it happen. until today.

oscar had insisted that you join him while he and lando were waiting to be called in for a race debrief, with the promise that he’d take you out for dinner afterwards. you’re always happy to spend extra time with your boyfriend, of course, so you were more than happy to agree.

except lando has a special talent for boring you out of your mind with extremely technical talk. and he loves to talk. you need something to do in order to not implode from boredom, and oscar’s arm is right there, wrapped around your shoulders, so you turn your head and lightly bite the thin skin of his wrist.

the sudden silence is deafening as lando stops talking in the middle of his sentence.

“i thought that was just a weird rumor. you actually bite him?” lando asks.

“um, yeah,” you reply slowly. “so?”

“got a problem with my girlfriend, mate?” you can feel the muscles of your boyfriend’s arm flexing around you as he tenses up a little.

“nope. no. not at all,” his teammate is quick to respond, hand reaching back to scratch his neck. “carry on. i’ll just act like i’m not here.”

so you do, biting him a little harder as a silent chill out. he just kisses your temple, stifling his laughter.

when it’s finally time for their meeting, you’ve traveled from oscar’s wrist all the way up to the inside of his elbow, grazing your teeth along his skin and inhaling his addictive scent. you’d happily do this for hours, and you pout when he separates himself from you.

as an apology, he leaves you with a parting whisper of, “you’re gonna bite me harder than that tonight, right?” that has your whole body heating up.

word count: 638

masterlist — join my tag list here!

note: hope u enjoyed this <3 definitely not self indulgent for myself and venus at all!!!

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

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[traumatrios]

friends, fwb!ART DONALDSON

josie’s notes! this is kind of a character study & lowkey bad but i got out of the theater 4 hours ago and have been obsessing. new era incoming!

ART DONALDSON was unable to keep his eyes off of you.

They are thirsty to drink in the way your body curves with ease in the bootcut jeans you wear out of Art’s bathroom. He lets his gaze swipe up and down your form, as you twist and turn in search of your straggling belongings. Most importantly, your phone.

“Mornin’,” Art chimed, admiring the curve of your chest in the sculpted tank you sported.

“Good morning,” you returned with an innocent smile, swinging the strap of your backpack on your shoulder. Your hands patted along the front, back and sides of your thighs, coming up empty handed.

Art’s eyes located your phone atop his dresser, spinning over in his desk chair to reach and retrieve it. Weight slid off of your shoulders in the form of a relieved sigh.

The corners of Art’s eyes crinkled in a friendly smile as he held it out for you to take. His arms– most notably his biceps –and the bruised marks that stretched across the skin. You could still see the fresh indents your newly manicured nails left earlier in the morning.

“Here, princess.”

There it was again. That Donaldson smile that has all the ladies swooning. You were a victim of the assault. It took every nerve in your body to speak with how your knees grew wobbly and your thighs began to grow sore.

“Thanks, friend,” you uttered, lifting your fingers to grab the phone. Art pulled his hand away from you, clicking his tongue.

“Ah-ah,” his smile turned into a smirk as he teased you. You were supposed to leave for class five minutes ago, but with his hand ‘accidentally’ prodding at your ass this morning and how he seems to be playing a game now, you began to ponder the possibility of never being able to leave. Your knee was already pressing next to his in his chair, any further and you weren’t ever getting up.

“C’mon, gotta leave,” you attempted to grab the phone again, only for him to pull it further away from you. The tips of your ears began to burn with your growing frustration.

Art raised his eyebrows in suggestion, and you knew exactly what it meant. Tilting your head at the gesture, he rebounded with a different motive.

“Kiss first?” he asked, an attempt at batting his eyelashes following. “Please?” he added.

You roll your eyes at him. You liked how playful he was, you did, but leaving his dorm the morning after another needy fuck was starting to get tiring. What was the next step?

This wasn’t the heavy subject you needed to focus on right now, instead you needed to start thinking about what you’d do if you failed this mornings’ calculus exam.

Before your feet could get moving, your lips were already obliging his request. Art’s hand cupped the back of your scalp to deepen what was meant to be a parting kiss, turning the soft peck into a loving kiss.

With the way his teeth didn’t try to clash with yours, you wondered if this was how he fed the fantasies in his head. It was obvious, Art wanted more than a fuck-buddy, but his passion was way ahead of his heart when it came to pretty girls like you. He always dove in head first, never thinking of the commitment— or lack thereof —when it came to this type of relationship.

You didn’t know what you wanted. It was hard to tell in college; you didn’t even fully know what you wanted to do with your life, how were you supposed to know anything else?

So you’d continue your late-night ventures to his dorm building and totally-not-lunch-dates whenever he had a gap in his weekend tennis schedule and you weren’t swamped with homework. You’d settle with quickies in closets and longing stares if it meant you had a warm body next to you that made you feel wanted.

After what felt like too long, you were the one to break the kiss. Art’s mouth was tinted with a frown to see you snatch your cell phone from his palm and begin to exit his dorm.

“Bye, friend!” You called.

“Bye, friend.”

divider by @benkeibear !

[rafeandonlyrafe]

chew toy

words: 600

warnings: biting/oral fixation? but its not done in a kinky way

rafe is tough. rafe is strong. he’s the one you call for when you can’t open a can, or need something heavy moved. when you think about it, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him in any sort of pain, so its a shock when you’re sitting cuddled against his side and he shouts out in pain.

“what is it?” you ask suddenly, eyes widening when the arm you’re resting against flinches.

“what is it?” rafe mocks you. “baby, you just bit me!”

“oh!” you look at rafes bicep, and sure enough theres bite marks on his skin. “oh my god, i didn’t even notice!” “you didn’t notice biting me?” rafe laughs, the shock of the sudden bite wearing off quickly upon seeing your innocent pout, feeling bad about hurting your boyfriend.

“are you mad?” “no.” rafe shakes his head, placing his thumb under your chin to raise your face up to look at him, pressing a kiss to your nose and then your lips. “just be gentle, baby.”

“mmkay.” you nod, wondering if that means you have permission to bite him again in the future, just not as hard.

--

as soon as you did it, you can’t stop thinking about biting rafe again. you know what its like to feel attracted to your boyfriend, that you find him delicious looking, but you didn’t expect to suddenly feel the urge to sink your teeth into his soft flesh.

“rafey?” you ask, only able to resist about a week.

“mmm, what is it?” rafe asks, eyes moving away from the tv to look at you.

“can i bite you again?” rafe is shocked for a moment, shocked that you clearly aren’t watching the tv show you put on, too distracted about thinking about biting him.

“yeah, of course. just gently, like i said.” rafe turns back to the tv when you grab his arm, pulling your knees into his chest as you place his arm on top of them, smiling at his tanned forearm right in front of you like its your favorite snack.

you lean forward, teeth sinking into his flesh, your tongue flicking over his arm, making sure to keep your bite gentle enough to not cause rafe to flinch.

by the time the episode is over, rafes arms are both covered in light bite marks.

--

“what is it baby?” rafe asks, rubbing his hand over your back.

“tummy hurts so bad.” you whine, the cramping from your period hopefully going to settle now that you’ve taken a midol and curled up in bed.

“what can i do to make you feel better? want me to get your heating pad?” rafe asks, but you shake your head no, your body already overheating.

“just come lay down with me?” you pout, grabby hands reaching for rafe.

“of course.” rafe shuffles your bodies around so you can remain in your scrunched up position but still be close to rafe.

“here, baby.” rafe extends his hand to you, the delicate soft part of skin between his thumb and forefinger looking like the perfect fit for your mouth. you look to rafe to make sure you understand what he means, and when he gives you a gentle nod, you lean forward, immediately letting out a sigh of relief when you have your teeth against his skin.

--

“what is she doing to you, bro?” kelce asks, his eyebrows scrunched together as you sit next to rafe, mouth open on his shoulder, leaving little nips and bites against his tanned skin.

“don’t mind her. she just likes having something in her mouth.” rafe smirks. sure, it’s not the normal kind of oral fixation, but he doesn’t mind it, liking the way it feels when your canines press into him, a reminder, albeit a slightly painful one, that you’re right there next to him.

“you’re like her chew toy.” kelce says, making you frown and pull away, big eyes looking to rafe.

“shh, he’s just being a dick, babygirl. you can keep going.” rafe talks so gently to you, coaxing you back into his side.

taglist: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @folklorsweet @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Katherine’s horny thought has been sent to you: 💌

Bucky Barnes is a feral man when it comes to his girl and seeing her being friendly with Steve…he cannot contain himself anymore. You gotta share something angsty and smutty babe. For all of us. 🤍

Here’s a promt:

“Are you trying to make me jealous doll? Cause it’s fucking working.”

You’re Mine » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bucky makes sure his best girl knows that she’s his and only his when he sees her getting a little to friendly with Steve.

Warnings: Angst, Smut (18+), language, mentions of alcohol, jealousy, kissing, hickeys, fingering, unprotected sex, daddy kink, metal arm kink, praise kink, praise kink, choking, degrading, name calling (slut), use of pet names

A/N: Thank you for requesting @katherineswritingsblog 🩷

Written on my phone. I’m sorry for any mistakes and typos.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!🔞

Bucky watched from across the room as your hand rubbed Steve’s bicep, giving it a squeeze. His right hand was clutching the glass so tight that it could shatter any second. Bucky’s jaw clenched when you kissed Steve on his cheek. That was the last straw for him. Bucky downed the rest of his whiskey and slammed the glass on the table, not caring if he broke it or not.

“Hey doll, we better call it a night. We have that thing to do tomorrow.” Bucky says, grabbing your upper arm.

“What thing?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion.

“You know what I’m talking about.” He says, tightening his grip on your arm, making you wince slightly.

“Oh yea!” You went along with it. “Goodnight, Stevie.” You say, kissing Steve’s cheek again.

Bucky practically drug you out of the room to the elevator and to yours and his shared bedroom. He closed and locked the door the second you two got in the bedroom. He then pinned you against the wall.

“Are you trying to make me jealous, doll? Cause it’s fucking working.” He practically growls.

“Now you know how I feel, James.” You say with sass in your tone.

Bucky chuckles and shook his head.

“So this is what that little stunt was about, huh?” He starts. “You decided to flirt with Steve cause I was talking to that girl at the coffee shop yesterday.” He says.

“More like flirting.” You say with an attitude.

Bucky grasped your jaw, making you look straight at him. His blue eyes were filled with jealousy, anger, and lust.

“How many god damn times do I have to tell you? I told her that I have a girlfriend and wanted nothing to do with her.” He says, almost gritting his teeth.

“That’s not what I saw!” You say.

“What did you think you seen, babydoll?” He asks.

“You were flirting with her! That’s what I seen and heard!” You say.

“And you think that it makes it right to flirt with my best friend?” He says.

“I wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine.” You say.

Bucky scoffs and shakes his head.

“Let me tell you something, babydoll…” His face got closer to yours, his lips inches from yours. “You’re fucking mine. Not Steve’s. Mine.” Bucky growls.

The next thing you know, you hear the sound of fabric tearing. Bucky just ripped off your dress. You didn’t even have time to react to it cause he yanked your panties down your legs and picked you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. Bucky almost immediately latched his lips on your neck, his teeth biting down hard enough to mark you up. A moan left your lips when his metal fingers rubbed your clit. His fingers found their way to your wet entrance, circling it teasingly before unexpectedly sliding two metal fingers inside of you. His fingers fucked you fast while his metal thumb rubbed your clit. You threw your head back against the wall, moans of his name leaving your lips.

“Oh daddy!” You moaned.

His fingers found your sweet spot almost immediately. Your pussy clenched around his fingers every time his fingers hit it.

“You’re such a fucking slut for me.” Bucky almost whispers. “I bet I can get you to cum in seconds just with my metal fingers.” He says.

You couldn’t form any coherent words. Moans and whimpers left your lips the more he degraded you. Honestly, you fucking love it when he degrades you. Bucky knows it turns you on. That’s why he does it.

His fingers were hitting all of the right spots, massaging your wet and warm walls and hitting your sweet spot causing your cunt to squeeze around his fingers. Your orgasm was building up quickly.

“I bet you’re so close, aren’t you, doll?” Bucky taunts. “You want to cum, don’t you?” He says.

“Yes please, daddy!” You whimpered.

“That’s too bad.” He abruptly took his fingers out of your pussy and leaving you frustrated. “You’re not gonna cum for a while.” He says, making you whine in frustration.

Bucky walked you over to the bed, dropping you on it. You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched as Bucky stripped himself out of his clothes. You looked down at his hard cock and licked your lips.

“My eyes are up here, doll face.” Bucky says, snapping his fingers.

“Shut up and fuck me.” You sassed.

Bucky spread your legs and got in between them. A loud moan left your lips when Bucky thrusted his cock inside of you in one thrust. You decided to test him more.

“Is that all you got? I’m sure Steve can give me more.” You say tauntingly.

A growl left Bucky’s lips. His metal hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing a little bit. He put his hand on the headboard above your head and began pounding into you. Your nails left red scratch marks on his back. Loud moans left your lips.

“Say that again. I fucking dare you.” Bucky growls. “Steve doesn’t know your body like I do. He wouldn’t know how to touch you like I do.” He says.

Pleasure took over your body. Bucky’s cock was hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. His fingers on his right hand found their way to your clit and began rubbing to the point where you were sensitive. Your pussy squeezed around his cock.

“Daddy, please!” You whined. “Please let me cum!” You begged. “I’ll be a good girl!” You whined again.

“I don’t think so, babydoll. You’re not gonna cum until I do.” He says.

“But daddy!” You whined.

“Quit your fucking whining.” He says, applying light pressure on your throat.

You tried your best to not cum, but it was so hard. His cock kept hitting your sweet spot, making you want to cum. Bucky pulled you into a rough kiss, his tongue slid past your parted lips and explored every inch of your mouth.

“You want to cum so badly?” Bucky asks. “Prove to me that you deserve to cum.” He says.

“I won’t ever flirt with Steve again. I promise to be a good girl and listen to what daddy says.” You say, followed by a whimper.

“You better be a good girl and do what I say.” He starts. “Cum for daddy, doll.” He whispers.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and a loud moan of his name left your lips as you came hard, soaking the sheets beneath you. Bucky’s thrusts became sloppy and he came inside of you. He thrusted a few more times before pulling out and laid down next to you. Both of you were sweaty and panting.

“Flirt with Steve again and I won’t hesitate to tie you to the bed and edge you.” Bucky says.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[munson-blurbs]

Hi! I absolutely love your work and I hope this week treats you well!💗 I was thinking of this Eddie imagine I don’t know if you’ve done something like this but I haven’t been able to get it out of my head. Ok here it goes: Eddie’s fucking you stupid, it’s raw, it’s passionate, it’s filthy and in the midst of it all he says, "marry me". You think nothing of it, so you say yes obviously cock drunk and Eddie starts to fuck you even harder. Cut to the next morning you wake up stark naked next to the love of your life with a pretty engagement ring on your finger

I'm such a sucker for fluffy smut, and this is no exception 🙃

WC: 717 Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), unprotected p in v, pet names (baby/baby doll)

The night is still, save for the sound of bed springs creaking and panting breaths that you and Eddie exchange into each other’s mouths. Strong hands pin your own wrists to the pillow as he thrusts into you, moaning as he sucks a bruise into the crook of your neck. A bead of sweat trickles down his sparse chest hair and lands between your cleavage, another way your bodies are joined tonight.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he groans just under your earlobe. “How d’you always feel s-so fuckin’ perfect? Jesus Christ!” You can feel him tremble as you clench around him, already indebted to you simply for letting him see you like this. Small, crescent-shaped indents mark his bicep from where your fingernails dug into him earlier, a piece of you left behind. They’d eventually fade, but Eddie would always remember them being there.

He’s deep inside you, his wiry patch of curls brushing against your clit with each piston of his hips. You bite your lip to suppress a moan. 

“Nuh uh.” Eddie briefly lets go of you, bracing his body weight on one forearm as his other thumb peels your lip from between your teeth. “Wanna hear those pretty noises loud and clear, baby doll.”

You nod and whimper, “yes, sir,” which only makes him increase his pace. He lowers his body so that your chests are pressed together, and slips an arm around your waist when you arch your back. 

“This body…this perfect—fuckin’—body,” he grunts, thrusts accompanying each word. “Want this body forever.”

“‘S yours,” you manage, breath hitching in your throat as he grows even harder inside you. “All yours, Eddie. No one else’s.”

He leaves nipping kisses along your shoulders and collarbone. “Marry me,” he murmurs, surprising himself. It’s something he’s wanted for an absurdly long time, but he hadn’t planned on asking you mid-fuck. “Let me worship you for the rest of our lives. Please, baby.”

“Y-Yes, fuck—fuck, Eddie,” you cry out, and your affirmation has him bucking his hips without much precision. Still, he hits your sweet spot over and over again, throaty yeses emanating from your diaphragm. 

Yes, that feels good. 

Yes, I’ll love you forever. 

Yes, I’ll marry you. 

You chant it until you’re both cumming, your release creaming his cock and his release filling you entirely. Harsh breaths make way for giggles as he flops down next to you, falling asleep with his tattooed arm draped over your torso. 

His sleeping form leaves no way to discuss his marriage proposal—if that’s even what it was, and not just something he’d spouted out in the heat of the moment. Exhaustion overtakes you soon after, and you don’t wake until you hear Eddie pattering around the kitchen the next morning. 

It’s not until you wipe the sleep from your eyes that you catch a glimpse of something new: a shiny diamond ring on that finger. It’s beautiful but modest; nothing flashy, but you’ve never been the type for over-the-top jewelry. It’s perfect. 

Eddie comes into the bedroom, a bowl of cereal in each hand. He’s in just his plaid boxers, exposing the soft happy trail below his belly button. Heat blossoms in your core at the sight of him. 

“Hi, fiancée,” he grins, placing your breakfast on the nightstand. A bit of milk sloshes over the side of the plastic bowl, but you don’t care. You’re too busy frantically kissing him, morning breath be damned. “I guess that ‘yes’ of yours still stands?”

“Mhm,” you murmur, fingers dipping below his waistband. He’s always at least half-hard in the morning—he claims it’s because of you, but you know it’s probably just basic biology. Your hand easily finds what it’s looking for, and Eddie chuckles. 

“Don’t you want to eat first?” he teases, but he’s already putting down his bowl and climbing on top of you. He takes your left hand and kisses just above the ring now adorning it. 

“I love it,” you tell him, noticing that you’re wearing matching smiles. “I love you.”

Eddie presses a kiss to your nose. “I love you, too.” He slides a hand up your still-naked body, cupping your breast and gently sucking on a pert nipple. “Y’know what’s better than morning sex with your boyfriend?”

“Hmm?”

He grins wickedly. “Morning sex with your fiancé.”

--

[darklordofthesimp]

Wrath (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Summary: After you risk your life protecting Ghost, the Lieutenant is furious. Angry enough, in fact, to pay you a late-night visit.

Requested by @chippyroh :

#69 Shut up or I'll shut you up.

#71 You’re driving me out of my fucking mind

A/N: Listen here you little shits, I will not be making a part 2 to this and you cannot convince me this time.

Category: Sexual Tension || Angst || Enemies to ? || Hurt/ Comfort

Warnings: Graphic language, Manhandling/Rough-handling, Sexually suggestive themes.

It was meant to be an easy mission but, really, what were you expecting?

You were experienced enough to know that when it was meant to be a breeze, you had to prepare for a fucking hurricane. And as Ghost stormed towards you, his fists clenched and his gaze furious, you knew this was gonna be one hell of a storm.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He didn’t stop until his chest bumped into yours, heaving and hard. His wide shoulders swayed from side to side as the officer sized you up. “Are you fucking stupid?”

You grit your teeth and glared. “I just saved your fucking life, Sir.”

You weren’t much in comparison to the towering figure that Ghost presented, you knew that. Still, you stood as tall as you could manage and set your jaw. You were right to provide him with backup. You were right to have taken out the people on his tail.

You’d done everything right.

So, why was he so fucking angry?

“Don’t start this shit with me, Sunshine,” Ghost hissed, fingers wrapping around your bicep. He pulled you in flush against his body, your armoured plates knocking against his. “That was out of line.”

“Saving your life?” You questioned, bewildered. “Saving your life was out of line, Ghost?”

His eyes narrowed and a deep rumble reverberated in his chest.

“No,” he snapped, leaning back. “Pretending you were anything but a fucking sniper was, though.”

Your breath left your lungs as though you’d been sucker-punched. You searched what little features you could see for an ounce of regret, any softness in his features to show he didn’t mean it- but the kohl on his eyes only highlighted the sharpness of his gaze.  

“This isn’t over, Sunshine,” Ghost warned, snatching his hand from your arm. He imparted a glare that had your throat tightening, before he brushed past you roughly.  For once, you wished you had never made it home.

______

You were angry at yourself for crying.

It was in your own shower and hidden from the rest of your unit, but you were still upset.

Your life was insane and full of enough sorrow to destroy most, and there were more than enough reasons to justify an emotional break. However, crying over a man? You were ashamed. Embarrassment seared red hot across your chest, it made your blood boil- it made you angry.

Who the fuck did he think he was?

You had done everything right. Price had clapped you on your back upon your return, commending your quick thinking. Ghost had scoffed at that, watching the interaction from the darkest corner of the room.

“Leaving your post is not ‘quick-thinking.’” The words had been a snarl from beneath his bloodied mask.

Price raised a brow as you shifted on your feet furiously. “I saved you on the evac, Sir. There was no fucking post.”

Ghost took a step toward you, his finger pointing at your chest as though he were marking you for death. You were thankful Price stepped in, you were angry but you weren’t stupid. You didn’t want to go toe-to-toe with the grim reaper himself but you would to defend your actions.

“How about you both hit the showers and cool off. Good job on today,” he gave the two of you a pointed look, “the both of you.”

You said nothing, only returning Ghost’s glare vehemently before storming off.

Your clothes felt too soft on your freshly scrubbed skin. It always felt like that after a mission; everything smelt too good, felt too good and sounded too quiet. It would take you a couple of hours to adjust, but your blood burned at your surroundings.

You were already overstimulated and now you were uncomfortable.

Fuck you, Simon Riley, you ingrateful twat.

You wanted to find him and shake some sense into him. You wanted a fucking thank you. You wanted his recognition, his approval and you seethed at your desire to feel accepted by him.

You dried your hair roughly with the towel, your frustrations translating into your menial tasks. Angrily shower, angrily dry off, angrily get dressed- you were fucking furious and you couldn’t get past it.

Bang, bang, bang.

You gasped, dropping the towel as someone battered against your door. It shook on the hinges under the pressure, and you stood frozen for a long moment. It was late, there was no reason for anyone to be visiting.

Everybody from the 141 was out and about, you and Ghost had returned a day earlier than expected.

You frowned as they knocked again with the flat part of their fist, the dull thuds picking up in volume. You scooped the towel from the floor, throwing it over the chair in the corner.

“Coming,” you shouted before they could go for a third round. You worried the frame wouldn’t hold up much longer. No sooner than you had twisted the handle, the door swung open. You leapt out of the way, eyes wide as a towering figure stepped through the threshold, slamming the door shut behind them.

The lock engaging behind him sounded like a death knell.

“Sir-“ you rasped, stumbling backward as he approached you.

“Cut that shit out,” Ghost snapped, “you know my fucking name.”

Fuck.

You stared up at him with wide eyes, as you continued back into the room. He was furious, just as heated as he had been when he’d gotten back from the mission. The man had clearly showered and changed, standing before you in a hoodie and balaclava.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” You glared at him, heart leaping into your throat as your back finally hit the wall. Ghost’s eyes slid to each side of you, marking how you were trapped between your own furniture.

“You know what you did today, Sunshine,” he said heatedly, “everyone can congratulate you about it as much as they want but you listen to me. Never do that again.”

You sneered, leaning forward. Ghost inclined his head, meeting you halfway as your noses nearly brushed. “I saved your life within the parameters of the mission and I’ll do it again and again if I fucking have to.”

“You were almost killed!” Ghost’s finger rose to press into your chest harshly. “Almost had a fucking bullet put between your eyes.”

“But I didn’t! Had I not stepped in you would have been a fucking pin cushion, Simon!”

You were forced back into the wall as he smacked an open palm into the plaster beside your head. You jumped at the sound by your ear, your lip trembling beneath his gaze. You could feel the heat emanating from his body in waves, he was fucking burning.

“What?” You whispered, your mouth dry all of a sudden. “You gonna fuckin’ hit me, Riley? You gonna hit me for doing my job?”

“Of course not, you idiot.” He snapped, leaning back. Ghost’s eyes narrowed as his hand slid from the wall by your head, resting at his side.

“Why are you here then? Barging into my room, locking the door behind you, putting me against the wall,” you listed, your voice low and urgent as you glared at him. Your chest heaved against his as you raced to catch your breath. “You’re either here to fuck me or fight me and we both fucking know that you hate my guts, Riley. So, get to it and get the fuck out.”

“Shut the fuck up, Sunshine,” Ghost rasped, shifting on his feet. “You deserve to get your shit rocked for the way you acted out there.”

 You searched his gaze, his eyes the colour of a stormy ocean as he glared right back at you. “You don’t even know what you’re doing here,” you snarled, leaning forward once more. This time, Ghost didn’t challenge you. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved, L.T?”

“Shut up,” he snapped.

“Your life is worth more than mine, Simon,” you growled, poking a finger into his chest. “You’re my superior, it’s my job to protect you.”

“Then fucking listen when I say shut up, or I’ll shut you up.”

“Sniper or not, if it ever came down to me or you- it’s my fucking job to die for you-“

Your back slammed against the wall, breath leaving your body at the impact. You were disoriented for a short moment, vision hazy as you tried to regain your bearings. His body was pressed against yours, his hands gripping your shoulders so tight you knew you’d be bruised.

You couldn’t think, you couldn’t anticipate his next move. Not when he gripped your jaw, half his fingers on your face and the others wrapped against your neck. He leaned down and you flinched, opening your mouth to gasp.

He wasn’t going to hit you.

Instead, Ghost kissed you.

You don’t know when he had rolled his mask upward, but his mouth was hot and urgent against yours, groaning when he swallowed your gasp before it could come to fruition. He tasted sweet on your tongue and poisonous to your mind, drowning all your inhibitions in his touch. You whimpered against him and a wicked smile curved his lips upward.

You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Your hands gripped his shirt tightly as his free hand moved to tangle itself in your damp hair, your dripping strands locked tightly between his fingers.

When he pulled away you were dizzy, your head falling back to rest against the wall. Your chest heaved as your heart pounded against your ribs, demanding to be freed.

There was nothing but silence for a long moment, the space between you both filled with his ragged breathing and your shaky gasps. You were so close you could taste him, his forehead pressed against yours and his eyes squeezed shut.

“You’re driving me out of my fucking mind, Sunshine.” Ghost rasped finally, his voice throaty and strained. “You just don’t fucking listen.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes trained on the beast before you. You’d watched this man tear people apart with his bare hands. You’d seen him take bullets to the chest, seen him snap necks and tear limbs.

But those fingers that had wreaked so much havoc rested on your throat softly, now. So gentle, as though he thought you would crumble beneath him if he squeezed.

But he wanted to grip tighter, and you knew it. You could tell by the twitch of his fingers, by the clench of his jaw.

“I can be taught, Sir,” your voice was barely a whisper but Ghost’s eyes snapped open as though you’d yelled at him. He watched you, like a predator observing its prey. You wondered if he thought he’d misheard you, maybe he was praying that he hadn’t.

When he leaned in close, your body shivered against his as adrenaline spiked your system.

“I’ll fuckin’ teach you to listen, Sunshine,” he murmured finally, fingers tightening against your skin. “Don’t you worry.”

Maybe he didn’t hate you, after all.

[urhoneycombwitch]

eddie who's cynical and grumpy only because he hasn't had proper aftercare. most people just roll over or leave when they're done and those that do stay to cuddle, it's Eddie holding them and never the other way around. He doesn't want to admit that it makes him feel dissatisfied afterwards, like the sex wasn't even worth it, because he got laid, that's the point, why complain? But there's just something... missing (and I figure aftercare wasn't as talked about in the 80s so he isn't really too sure what that something is)

Until a night with reader where they have absolutely mind-blowing sex, parting with heavy breaths and as Eddie's heart rate starts to slow back down to normal again, he's waiting for reader to grab their clothes, roll over on their side, something that breaks the connection and makes his heart drop. But they don't, reaching out a weak hand (because they're sluggish waiting for their soul to return to their body) to rub his arm. A gentle back and forth, which feels nice, but Eddie's suspicious. What is this, why are they doing it, and why does it feel good?

And then, "Can I play with your hair?" (from the muse prompt lol) and he's agreeing with a shrug and when reader starts to card their fingers through his curls and massage his scalp, Eddie melts. It's like a whole brain recalibration. His icy heart getting thawed out just because someone made sure to take care of him too. And if reader wakes up earlier in the morning just to ask how he likes his eggs? Eddie's already decided that he's gotta lock them down.

+18 mdni

cw: p in v sex, cockwarming

It’s you tipping over the edge into orgasm, choking his cock with your velvet walls, soft whine spilling from the back of your throat, that takes Eddie with you.

As he comes, he burrows his face into your neck. Your hands reach for his skull to draw him closer, and he unintentionally bites down a bit too hard on the soft skin of your neck.

You let out a gasp, fingers seizing in his hair, and he’s quick to pull his mouth up, kissing and soothing over the spot he’s left with his teeth.

“Shit, sorry, sweetheart,” he pants, the affection slipping out despite himself.

“It’s’okay,” you mumble out in one word, limbs going to putty, hands extricating themselves from his hair.

Eddie rises to his elbows and moves to gingerly pull out but you stop him, fingers flying up to dig into the meat of his biceps.

“Wait, can you- will you just stay in? For a little bit?”

You’re not kidding, he can tell- you’ve got a wounded puppy look that he’s dying to change. Eddie sinks slowly back into you, rotates his hips a bit so you take less of his weight, and settles his head on your collarbone.

A big, dreamy sigh, from you- like you’re perfectly content because of how close Eddie is.

His eyes flutter shut when you begin tracing light lines with the pads of your fingers over his bare back.

“What’cha doin’?” Eddie murmurs into the skin of your sternum.

Up his spine, circling under the curtain of hair against his neck, down the spine again; looping and rhythmic. Your hands don’t slow as you whisper “Lovin’ on you, weirdo. Hush.”

You can feel the well of his dimples against your skin as he smiles.

“Can I play with your hair?” you ask quietly, and before he’s even finished nodding you’ve got both hands winding into his dark locks.

You start gentle, thumbs at his temples, light touches against his scalp, but when your hands find the roots you give a short but hard tug.

The little flash of pain goes straight to his dick, and he bucks into you with a low groan, half filled-out already.

“You gonna give me another pretty mark to look at?” you purr.

Eddie lifts his head from your chest and grazes his teeth into the opposing side of your neck just below your ear, in tandem with a sharp snap of his hips.

He catches your clit beneath his thumb and grins wicked when you moan, pulling up again to look down at you as he says, “Gimme another one of your pretty orgasms and we’ve got a deal.”

[mochinomnoms]

How do you think the beast-people and the Octavinelle trio will react to a person who's love language is biting them ? (I just want your opinion on the question, have a good day)

I talk about it a little here and here with reader on the receiving end, but in regard to them on the giving…

Mating/pairing marks are fairly common amount beastmen, particularly the predators. The ones best known for their marks are wolf-beastmen, but almost any beastmen with sharp teeth are pleased with the idea of being bitten (aka: claimed) by their partner. So imagine Jack's surprise when you bring his hand, shyly laced with yours, up to your lips for a sweet kiss on his knuckles. Only to be startled, an uncharacteristically high-pitched yelp leaving his lips as you nipped at the tips of his fingers. Your loving gaze is cute, but not disarming in the least, as you take his fingers and teeth at them like a chew toy. It's with a deep, but pleased, flush and expression that Jack explains to you what biting insinuates between partners.

Ruggie, when you were teetering the line of friends and partners, liked to fluster you with soft, coy nips at your ears and neck, purring at your darken cheeks and shy glare. He was a shy flirt, hoping you'd get the hint and make the first move. Why it was such a spine tingling shock when you, at your wits end with him, decided to reciprocate with a bite into his cheek, he'll never know. Nowadays, Ruggie will happily let you drag him away to either of your rooms to cuddle and bite into his neck, leaving wet, red marks all over his neck and collar. Mr. Bucchi is on cloud nine, dazing off as you bicker with Leona at the door over who should most monopolize on Ruggie's precious time. Hint: it's almost always you, until Leona offers a pay bump in exchange that Ruggie finally gets the fuck up and do his Leona's chores.

Speaking of the lazy lion, Leona does so adore your bites. It's the one of the few PDA that he'll let you do, as it lets you two subtly mark you as each other's partners, but it's mostly because you get kinda pissy about it, and it's funny. You're not pissy about the biting itself, rather, you're massively annoyance that he's laughing at your attempts to mark him up as much as he can with his sharp canines. Your teeth are nowhere as sharp as his, yet you randomly decide to dig your teeth in his bicep and forearms, like Cheka when he was teething. The thought of it makes him bark in laughter, which only pushes you to gnaw on him further in spite, rather than affection. It becomes less funny when the thought of a mini-you with deep green eyes, teeny-tiny ears, and a flicking tail teething on his thumb flashes through his mind. Then he's abruptly yanking his arms back and telling you that he's going to take a nap by himself with a confused look and a thousand yard stare.

Between the Octavinelle trio, none of them have the same instinct to bite into their mate as the beastmen, though they know of some merfolk that do. No they, the twins especially, like to softly bite into your soft bits because such forms of affection signify the upmost trust in the deep. Likewise, only their family and closest loved ones can do the same, namely you. The twins are the most fond of your biting affections of the trio, particularly Floyd. He thinks it's soooooooo cute that you like to bite him! He can hardly feel a thing, your teeth are so dull and flat compared to his. You can't leave a matching mark like the one he's left in your thigh…it's still awfully cute that you'll meet his squeezes (soft just for you) with a bite to his chin. He's suddenly flooded with thoughts of shrimpys nomming on morays in the sea and is clenching tighter at your with coos and squeals of having a cute, personal cleaner shrimp. Happily, you'll meet his demands for more bites into his cheeks until his mood changes, and he decides he's bored and tired of letting you nom. Maybe he'll take a turn and nom on you instead!

Despite being more reserved, or pretends to at least, compared to his brother, Jade is also fond of wearing your bite marks around campus. He even dares to wear his pristine, neat uniform untied and unbuttoned, just so he can see your horrified expression as your classmates ask about where in the hell he got all those gnarly looking purple bruises hickies from. You refuse to leave any more marks on him after that, settling for soft nibbles on his cheeks and knuckles. That last for all of a week before Jade's giving you a (fake) teary-eyed pout, wondering why you aren't giving him affection anymore? No, he's not talking about kisses. No not hugs. Noooo not that either, get your mind out of the gutter, he's a respectable eel! No! Why aren't you biting him like you used to, all his bite marks have faded away and are barely visible now! He thought you loved him 😢. Jade only lets you bite him you know, because he trusts his sweet human… no one else other than his brother and parents get to bite him, and only you get the privilege to bite into such intimate parts. Don't you love him anymore? Oh! Woe is he who-oh? You'll bite him again? Yay~ Please do so right here, right at the base of his neck, he's verrry sensitive there, so please be gentle 😊.

Azul is oh so very tame compared to the eels, even compared to the other beastmen. Really, he doesn't get the appeal if he's being honest. The twins used to teeth on his arms when they were children as their baby teeth fell out to be replaced with their adult ones. He's tired of being a chew toy and taken to smacking the twins hard enough to bruise to prevent further chomps. Azul is, unfortunately, weak to you and your big pleading eyes, despite his protests and denial. He's quick, especially after a tiring day after classes and work to let you drag him into bed and curl into his side. He sighs in bliss as you press sweet peeks into his cheek, neck, and hair, up until he feels your teeth tug at his earlobe. A brief shiver and heat pooling in his stomach makes him gasp, before he huffs and rolls his eyes as he realizes that you've taken to just gently nibble on his ear. Azul grumbles, still happy though, as you affectionately pull at his ear, moving down to nip at his neck, then settling on gently biting on the softest part of his cheek. He supposes he can give you an exception, his sweet human. After all, you're so soft and sweet about it with him, no matter how drooly you get it's kinda cute, and he's greedy with all forms of your affection. Azul will let you, as long as you don't bite down too hard.

[emmyrosee]

“It’s too hot for you to lay on top of me.”

Kiyoomi drapes an arm over his face dramatically as you do, in fact, settle on top of him, your eyes boring into him happily with your fingers tracing over his sternum, body draped between his legs. The box fan just a few feet away whirs to try and combat the thickness of Osaka air and why didn’t you invest for an air conditioner in your new apartment-

“You’re too hot for me to not lay on top of you,” you hum back, unbothered by the heat and focused on him. “Rain, sun, heat or snow can’t stop me from bugging you, you know that.”

“I figured once we hit physical stickiness that you’d have some mercy on me.” You quirk a brow at him, and he shrugs, “yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.”

“I don’t know what you think this is, but you’re cute for denying it.”

Kiyoomi does offer you a weak chuckle and tired smirk, and he feels your eyes completely fixated on him as he preforms these completely subconscious acts.

He’d blush if he wasn’t absolutely sweating right now- or not used to it.

Your eyes are always on Kiyoomi, you know he knows, you’re sure to make sure he knows- be it from physically looking at him so focused he feels your pupils shake over him and his body, or telling him ‘hey, you look like I’m gonna bite you later.’

That one, he didn’t believe until you did, leaving him with teeth marks littering his shoulders and biceps.

He does admire your ability to flirt right now. He could die on this bed if you’d let him.

“Hey,” you whisper, nosing at the softness of his tummy. He lifts one of his fingers to peek at you. “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby,” he mumbles, too hot to try and tease. His free hand cups your warm cheek and gently strokes his thumb over it, which you nuzzle into happily, eyes softly closing to relish in the feeling.

He lets his head fall back against the pillow, hand continuing to gently stroke your cheek with his long fingers. You lay your head down on his stomach, ear pressing to the muscle just above his navel. The room is quiet, save for the tired box fan and honking horns outside.

“You hungry?” You ask suddenly. “Your stomach’s making weird noises.”

“I want ice for dinner,” he murmurs. “And snow. And frostbite.”

“Yeah. Then come winter and you’ll be pissed that it’s so cold,” you snort.

“If I had the energy, I’d flick your forehead.”

“Well it’s a good thing you don’t.”

[lnfours]

lando w breeding kink😝

OH ANON i’m going feral. i think about this constantly and i get weak in the knees.

inbox

your head was spinning, breathing erratic as your back arched off the mattress and your chest pushed into his. his curls were sticking to his forehead, body warm to the touch as his fingers dug into your hips. your legs wrapped around him as you tried to find something other than the sheets to grip onto, settling for his bicep instead. nails pressing into his skin as his head dipped down to leave marks on your collarbone.

“fuck,” his breathless moan was all that you needed to, all you really wanted to hear. he moved one of his hands down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit as he rubbed right circles around it. a state of euphoria as he mumbled against your skin, “gonna come for me?”

you whimpered softly into the darkened room, letting out a soft, “mmhm.”

“come for me, baby,” the pet name rolled off his tongue effortlessly, the way he tilted his head back up to look at you almost being enough to send you over the edge right then and there, “c’mon, love.”

you were right there, moaning out his name like prayer. he would kill to have you like this every second of the day, not just when he finally got a break between races. he wished to have you there with him all the time, catching himself wishing it was your hand on his dick every time he got himself off while thinking of you in a completely different country.

“i’m close,” you breathed out, “so close.”

“me too,” his hips were snapping into yours at an ungodly speed, but it felt too good to care about the bruises he’d more than likely leave on your thighs and hips, “missed you so much.”

you grabbed at his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. full of teeth clashing and moaning into the others mouth, “come in me.”

that was more than enough, his head dropping back down to your chest and his hips stuttered. the feeling of his dick twitching inside you and filling you sending you over the edge, his strangled moan filling your senses.

he breathed hard, looking down to where your bodies met before he untangled himself from you, moving down to your aching core as you tried to regain your composure. it was no use, though. watching as he watched his cum leak from you, shaking his head more to himself than anything.

you hissed softly, gasping as he fucked his cum back into you with his fingers. you grabbed at his shoulders, stomach contracting as he tried his best not to overstimulate you.

not that you really minded, anyways.

“can’t wait to for you to walk around, pregnant with my kid,” he said in between kisses on the inside of your thighs, “gonna put a baby in you by the time winter break is over.”

you let out a soft laugh, running a hand between his tangled curls as he gently pulled away from you, “did you catch baby fever all of a sudden?”

he smiled sheepishly, laying his head on your chest, listening to the fast pace of your heart, “maybe,”

[sideblog-ver3]

steddie (18+)

(vampire boobs) (spider webs) (big dick steve) (club bang)

“she takes it like a champ, stevie. look at our girl.”

you whined and squirmed beneath them, the pillow under your stomach sinking under your weight and your face rubbed into the comforter. tight ropes wrapped around your wrist that connected to your thigh and another rope held your ankles to the bed.

“such a good girl. listens to her daddies.”

a finger was pushed into your hole and a silicone vibrator was stimulating your clit. the two boys just talked about you, not bothering to address you, not like you could respond in sentences. you’d only be able to say, “uh- uh huh.” “ah ah ah.” “ple- please.” face pinching in pleasure, drool dripping from the side of your mouth.

“kick it up a notch, eddie. sure she can handle it.” a warm palm caressed at your tensed shoulder blades. sliding bits of wild hair over your shoulders, lingering fingers rubbing at your neck.

“she’s a good pup.” a slight shift in the air and you felt wet lips pressing kisses onto your moistened skin. then pressing in hard, lips parting, teeth toying at your skin and tongue licking at scattered beauty marks.

you shivered and sighed. “yes i am.” responding to steve’s statement about you being their good pup. you were well trained for the two sex fiend boys. knowing to only cum when they say, being their cock slut, allowing them to fill any of your holes to the brim. even just sitting on your knees as steve and eddie pleasured themselves only, leaving you to watch and feel your slick coat your thighs together.

“oh, she can speak? definitely kicking it up. also give her another finger.” eddie commanded steve. you heard a click then felt the toy go from mild to mildly higher. you cooed at the sensation then moaned when a thick finger curled in your tight cunt.

eddie’s musical laugh fluttered your heart. “i can see these lips getting puffy with the second.” then a harsh slap was gifted to your right ass cheek, you yelp and tried to drag your legs up but the ropes restrained you.

“you suck these fingers so good, almost as good as your mouth.” steve grunted as he thrust his two fingers back and forth harshly into your pussy. your fingers curled into the ropes on your wrist, wishing you could hold either boys hand.

“maybe she can have our cocks after, you know, as a treat. how that sound, baby?” eddie’s gruff voice twisted your stomach, the mental image making you salivate. “ye- yes da- daddy.”

“atta girl.” a ringed hand spread your lips further apart, the chill of metal a welcoming touch. you could hear the gentle noise of your wetness growing, the smooth gliding without friction. eddie pressed the toy harder to your sensitive nub, causing your ass to push up further into steve’s fingers.

now steve smacked your left ass cheek, “stay down. be a good pup.” he started to finger you harder, causing your body to slid on the pillow. you squeezed your eyes shut but couldn’t help your open jaw mouth, glops of drool staining the bedding.

the knot in your lower stomach grew tighter by each thrust and electric burst. legs wishing to close together but unable to compile.

“how close?” eddie asked. your brows scrunched as you assessed your body, “eight. al- almost there.”

“another finger.” steve warned and you couldn’t help the throaty moan that followed, feeling full to the brim up wanting even more. you wished to get fucked right now, but that wasn’t on the menu for the night.

“going up.” a click and the silicone went into high mode. a strong pulse stringing you closer and closer as you imagined the muscles in steve’s bicep as he worked his arm.

“daddies….” trying to warn them about your incoming release. needing a verbal confirmation from one of them, not wanting to be edged tonight for punishment.

“it’s okay baby. whenever you’re ready.” steve’s honey laced voice soothed your burning left ear, his tongue licking at the lobe.

three more pumps and a hard pressure of the toy and you were gushing around steve’s fingers, legs trembling and breath choppy. eddie clicked the toy off and steve slid his three fingers out slowly, pussy fluttering at the thick loss.

your tired eyes closed as your heard them work at your restraints then felt as they soothed and kissed at your reddened marks. adoring hands worked over your body, noises of clean up filled the space and you were slowly getting ready for that treat they promised.

“i think i deserve a reward. don’t you agree?” getting a bit of a cocky attitude.

both boys chuckled and started stripping bits of left over clothing. “yeah pup.” “but we’re gonna fuck that bit of brattiness out of you.” and you were happy for that outcome.

[lunamochii]

'thighs or biceps?!' osamu miya x f!reader

cw; slightly suggestive

"Did ya remember when Atsumu's wife, back in our highschool days, said that she likes his thighs?"

You swallowed the fries you were chewing and pause the movie that you are watching. Turning your attention to your boyfriend, who's sitting idly and scrolling through his phone

"What about it Osamu?" You question and he puts down his phone and reach for your face, craddling it with his hand "Well.... what about you? Which do you like my biceps or thighs?"

You swear that you could have pass out just by laughing non-stop at what he said, your boyfriend groans and look away

"Gosh! Never have I ever dreamt of you saying that!"

"It's okay if you won't answer! Geez..."

His sulking base on how he puff his cheeks, arms cross infront of his chest. You giggled one last time before snaking your one arm behind him and the other caressing his biceps

"Haven't I made it obvious?" You said when leaning in closer to his ears, you notice how it got red right away

"M-my biceps?" Osamu couldn't believe himself stuttering just by feeling your hand squeezing his side and caressing his arms

"Hmmm~ wrong."

You smiled and move away from his side, getting down on your knees and positioning yourself in between his legs. You start to caress thighs and smirks. His wearing shorts, perfect, you thought. Slowly, you lift one side of his short and starts to ghost your lips over the skin of his thighs.

"Babe.."

"Hm?"

"Thighs?"

Osamu nearly lost it when you lick his thighs and let your tongue travel upwards. He let out a groan when he felt you bite softly on the fat of his thighs.

"So you like my thighs?" He manages to complete his sentence but you only shook your head and comes up again "Wrong again, babe!" You giggle and leaves a open-mouthed kisses on his neck, earning a soft moan from him.

You took his hand that he was using to hold your waist, moving away from his neck. You rolled up the sleeve of his top and kisses his biceps. Osamu can tell that he has become a blushing mess, god, he can feel his cock throbbing.

"Fuck.."

He moans when he felt your teeth sink on the skin of his arms, you left a bunch of bite marks before kissing it one by one.

"Figured it out yet?" You ask and sat on his lap. Osamu looks at you and grin, he leans in and kisses your lips which you happily return his hot kiss.

"My thighs and biceps huh"

You smiled sheepishly and throw your hands at the back of his neck. It's safe to say that you two ended up in your shared bed, with Osamu whimpering everytime you leave a bite mark on his thighs or biceps. You were practically worshipping him and he loves it. Maybe he discovered a new kink that night, the sight of you rubbing his already cum covered cock and you biting his thighs, just turns him on so much.

••••••

bonus part.☆

"Miya-san aren't you hot?"

One of his workers asks and certainly he is feeling hot but he can't just expose his bite mark covered arms can he, now? Wouldn't want his workers or customers looking at him weirdly.

"Nah, m'fine."

He smiles and continue serving the customers but one customer did notice on why his wearing long sleeves shirt today.

"You freakshow."

"Shut up, Tsumu."