#it’d be so fucking stimulating and gratifying

[galaxostars]

I just know Kingsley would be the type of man to never cut you off mid sentence

[freeuselandonorris]

landoscar vore kink?!?!?!!!!!!?? god oscar could make him fall apart just by talking about the idea huh, telling him how he’s just so tiny, but it’s okay cause oscar will keep him safe and warm and protected in there ugh lando would cry

sorry your asterisk on the foot kink director’s notes smacked me in the face and now i can’t stop thinking about it i love your brain sm

well, anon, the great tradition of landoscar inspiring me to write kinks i previously had only a passing interest in continues.

context: i mentioned in this post that i think lando is the perfect combination of chronically online, obsesed with being tiny and stimulation-seeking to have a vore kink.

cw for non-violent descriptions of vore fantasy, macrophilia, crying, incredibly mushy romantic goop.

“I’ve been doing some research,” Oscar says, and sits down in Lando’s big, comfortable desk chair. “About your thing that you like.”

He pats his thighs, and Lando levels him with a deeply suspicious look before he sits down, primly, perched on Oscar’s knees like he’s readying himself to jump right back up again.

“You think it’s weird,” Lando says accusingly to the darkened computer screen in front of him, not to Oscar.

Oscar tugs him back, sinking into the soft leather cushioning. “Lando Norris in ‘into weird shit’ shocker.”

Lando makes a sulky sound but finally deigns to lean back against him. Oscar spreads his legs a bit so Lando’s settled between them, Oscar’s thighs either side of his, arms snaking around his waist. He leans in to mouth at the back of Lando’s neck briefly before he speaks again, gratified by the little shiver that ripples down Lando’s spine.

“You wanna tell me about it?” he murmurs against the spit-slick skin. “How you’d want me to do it?”

He hears Lando’s breath hitch, feels him stiffen as he tries to work out whether Oscar’s taking the piss or not. Oscar keeps his breathing slow and deliberate, his body heavy. 

Lando swallows audibly. “I’d – not, like, being ripped apart. Just. Taken in.”

Oscar hums, rubs Lando’s obliques. He’d thought Lando was just watching regular old hentai when he’d walked in on him with his hand down his pants a couple of weeks ago – on his laptop, not even on his phone like a normal person. Oscar had just about had enough time to realise that the girl on-screen was swallowing a tiny, wriggling man, her belly distending, before Lando had noticed him and shrieked and slapped his laptop shut.

“Huh,” had been the only thing Oscar could think to say, eyes caught in a loop between Lando’s bright red face, the closed laptop and his tented jeans.

Now, Oscar spiders his fingers across Lando’s waistband and down, cupping him through his sweatpants. He’s already half-hard, tips his head back to Oscar’s shoulder with a shuddery exhale. 

He leans in so his mouth is right next to Lando’s ear. Normally he’s shit at dirty talk, but this is so out of the realms of what he’d consider sexy chat that it’s somehow fine. It’s storytelling. 

“It’d be pretty easy to get you down in one go without chewing,” he says, letting his voice drop to a rumble. Lando’s breath catches again. “You’re so small, you’d slip right down.”

“Fuck,” Lando mumbles. His hips jerk, cock fattening under Oscar’s hand. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Oscar says, rubbing in slow circles. “And you know I’ve been working out loads this year. Need to keep my protein levels high, ‘cause I’m growing.” 

Lando makes a bitten-off sound. “You’re really big now, compared to me,” he mumbles. 

“That’s right,” Oscar says, soothingly. “I’m getting bigger every day. It’d be easy for me to pick you up, wouldn’t it? Swallow you down. Would you want me to start with your head or your feet?”

He squeezes his thighs around Lando’s, pressing in on him. He can just about see over Lando’s head to where he’s got his fingers curled into the meat of his own thighs, knuckles white.

Lando whines and presses his back into Oscar’s chest. “My feet,” he says, hoarse.

“Right,” Oscar agrees. “Start at the feet, so you feel it all. I mean, you’re tiny, but my throat would still squeeze you so tight, right? You’d slide down so slowly, probably barely be able to breathe.”

He lifts his other arm, wrapping it around Lando’s chest, holding him in place. Lando jolts, nearly smashing Oscar’s nose with the back of his head. He’s breathing fast and shallow, high up in his chest like the very few times Oscar’s seen him having an anxiety attack. For a moment, he worries he’s somehow gone too far.

“You good?” he says, very quiet. Presses a kiss to the soft and vulnerable skin behind Lando’s ear.

“Keep going,” Lando grits out. His voice has gone strange, high and choked.

“Okay,” Oscar says, squeezing Lando closer to him, grinding the heel of his palm against the tip of Lando’s dick through his pants. “So just as you think it’s too much, and you’re gonna suffocate in my throat–” Lando moans and Oscar closes his eyes, has to take a breath, because this might not be his thing but the way Lando’s reacting is doing it for him “–finally you’d manage to free yourself, end up in my stomach.” 

“Yeah,” Lando says. He’s trembling. Oscar racks his brains, trying to remember what he’d read about online.

“Yeah,” he says. “You could just – curl up in there, my stomach would be all stretched out around you. Dark and warm, and you’d just be – I’d keep you in there, safe and, and mine, nobody else could get to you.”

Lando makes a choked noise, like Oscar’s just punched him. Oscar’s sweating now, Lando’s body plastered against his. He’s weirdly light-headed, cock half-hard and pressing against the cleft of Lando’s arse. It’s not just a story anymore. To keep Lando inside him, nestled in the achy space just behind his ribcage that Lando seems to inhabit anyway – he wants it, suddenly and desperately.

“You’d be a part of me,” he gets out past his suddenly constricting throat, licks the sweat from the curve of Lando’s neck. 

Lando says his name, a broken rise-and-fall intonation, and wetness floods across Oscar’s hand.

Oscar holds him through it, blinking away the dizziness. His mouth is dry. Lando’s shoulders are shaking rhythmically; when he turns his head, Oscar realises with a jolt of worry that his cheeks are wet, tears streaking the tanned skin, disappearing into the light thatch of his beard.

“Oh God,” Oscar says involuntarily. “Are you alright?”

Lando makes a noise that could be a laugh or a sob. He sniffles, brings one big hand up to scrub at his eyes. “M’fine. It was. That was – thanks.”

Oscar brings a thumb up, brushes the wet from Lando’s matted eyelashes. “You’re fine,” he says, gentle. Lando takes a shuddering breath. “Hey, reckon we’d finally beat Max if I assimilated your racing skill into mine?”

It’s a stupid comment, but it has the desired effect; Lando gives a hiccupy laugh, relaxing against him. “Maybe,” he says. “Not sure we’d pass the FIA weight restrictions.”

Oscar hums. “I’ll ask Zak next time we’re at MTC.” 

Lando turns in his arms, pulling a face that could be in response to Zak or the rapidly cooling mess in his pants.

“I would, you know,” Oscar says quickly, before their lips meet. “If I could. If you wanted.”

Lando smiles, eyes red and hazy, the tender skin beneath still wet with tears. Despite it all, he looks happier than Oscar’s seen him in months. “I know.” 

[raleighcarrera]

this is the first of the kinktober/ns*w requests i received and is for miss @pixelsandkink, who asked for #41 for raleigh x mc ❤️

41. “how ‘bout you come and help me out, huh?”

50 NSFW starters

the apartment was eerily quiet when she stepped inside, making her immediately suspicious as soon as the elevator doors slid shut behind her.

clothes were sprawled across the floor of their living room -- a black jacket discarded next to a hastily dropped duffel bag, a pair of expensive looking shoes askew where they’d been kicked off.

so raleigh had made it home, then. 

maybe it was so quiet because he was sleeping. that was typically the only time raleigh was ever silent, and it had probably been a long flight home, for him, from japan. tour always took a lot out of him. 

when she moved into the kitchen to set down the bag of groceries she had, cadence saw that their bedroom door was closed, increasing the likelihood that raleigh was napping. she took care to be quiet as she put their things away -- staples she’d needed to stock up on with raleigh’s return in mind, like his favorite brand of bottled iced coffee and all his favorite snacks -- toeing off her own shoes to keep her footsteps light.

after six grueling months apart, spending the afternoon in bed with her boyfriend sounded like nothing short of paradise. with how busy she’d been preparing for his return, she could probably use a nap, too. 

cadence slowly inched the door open, as quietly as she could manage. she was practically holding her breath as she tip-toed into the room, all in the interest of not waking up raleigh...

who was, predictably, sprawled in bed, the comforter kicked off to the floor and the sheet slung lazily around his waist, where one hand rested on his chest.

but he was awake, his eyes half-lidded with a self-satisfied grin stretched across his handsome face. 

his other hand was moving slowly beneath the sheets, quite obviously wrapped around his cock.

she stilled, halfway in their bedroom, doorknob still clutched in her hand. cadence felt her face heat, and her eyes went wide as they took him in again.

“hey, beautiful,” raleigh said, the low, raspy tone of his voice confirming he had been asleep until only recently. “s’so good to see you again.”

“i thought you were asleep,” she answered stupidly, eyes fixated on the muscles flexing in his arm, the way his hand was moving under the sheets. her teeth dug into her bottom lip. “i mean -- hi, i missed you, but --”

“cadence...” raleigh paused, exhaling a long, slow sigh. his hips tilted, shifting the sheet on the bed. the way he was looking at her, eyes traveling down her chest to her legs and back up again filthily, made her feel like she was wearing something other than leggings and an old college t-shirt, sparking heat down her spine. “god, babe. you have no idea how many nights i did exactly this, wishing i was looking at you in person instead of a -- fucking photo.”

she pushed away from the door, taking a careful step closer. raleigh’s eyes tracked her movements intently, the expression on his face full of wanting.

six months of nothing but phone sex was sure to have been torture, for him. it hadn’t exactly been a picnic for her, either. her hands played with the hem of her shirt as she directed, “drop the sheet, raleigh.”

his grin returned, a lightness springing into his eyes, which were suddenly playful when they squinted happily at her. he lifted his hips, and the sheet fell away, and then cadence’s eyes were free to follow the line of tattoos down his forearm to his hand, which was as big and strong and captivating as ever -- more so, probably, with the way it was curled so tightly around his cock.

“your turn,” he directed, nodding back at her. she flashed him an answering smile, and pulled her shirt up and off over her head, gratified by the audible sound raleigh made as soon as her bare skin was revealed to him -- a groan of appreciation. “fuck, you’re so sexy.”

something about standing there, knowing that raleigh was touching himself to the sight of her -- that he had been touching himself to the sight of her -- was endlessly stimulating, making her shift back and forth restlessly on her feet. he was such a sight for sore eyes that she almost didn’t know where to look; raleigh’s impressively muscled chest and stomach shifted with each heavily inhaled breath. his strong arms and long fingers and infuriatingly handsome face could captivate her completely on any given day, even when it hadn’t been six months since they’d last been in bed together, and --

“hey -- babe?” raleigh’s voice was strained when it cut through her reverie, but that didn’t stop his obnoxious grin from spreading. “how ‘bout you come over here and help me out, huh?”

she was nodding before he even finished the question, hastily stripping out of her bra and each remaining piece of clothing, scrambling to get over to the bed as quickly as possible.

raleigh reached out for her with both hands as soon as she was on the mattress, welcoming her body on top of his with a moan. “christ, i missed you.”

his hands moved over the curve of her sides, dragging down the dip of her waist to her stomach and ass and back again almost reverently, his voice hushed and awed to match the way he was touching her. he, too, didn’t seem to know exactly where to look, and for a moment there was only the sound of their rough breaths as she settled over him, slotting their hips together.

then, raleigh swore, and finally reached for her chin, pulling her into a feverish kiss.

cadence melted against him immediately, falling against his lips with a groan. it’d been six months since she’d last gotten the chance to feel the soft pressure of his warm mouth on hers, six months where she’d thought of almost nothing else every night. six months of promises and aching and a deep, longing desire to do nothing but this until they were breathless and stupid with it, giggly when they rolled around on the mattress afterwards.

he bit her bottom lip sharply when he pulled away, his fingers digging into the backs of her thighs in an attempt to control the way she was grinding against him. “fuck, cadence,” raleigh muttered, yanking her in roughly. his cock slid through her wetness and, with a gasp, she pushed down to chase the friction, her own fingers twitching where they were braced on his chest. “a thirteen hour flight and i thought about your cunt the entire time. i almost had to rub one out on the plane, babe, i swear.”

“raleigh,” she whined, arching her back to tuck her face into the side of his neck in a futile attempt to hide her burning cheeks, “you have no idea how much i missed you.”

“yes i do.” the words were said lowly, almost under his breath. still, they bounced around in her brain until her stomach felt like it was doing happy backflips, warmth building inside her so steadily that she hardly realized she was rubbing faster against him until he said, “and if you keep that up, i’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

“then fuck me,” cadence gasped, hips stuttering when his fingers dipped between her legs, “fuck me, please, raleigh, now.”

he mumbled something she couldn’t quite catch, a filthy curse of her name following it as the hard line of his cock pressed insistently between her legs. cadence groaned loudly as soon as his hips bucked -- he gave her no time to adjust, pushing forward until his hips were seated fully against hers and her nails were digging into his biceps, scratching his skin. 

“raleigh!” did it matter, how loud she could get, when they lived on the thirty-third floor? did she care, if the suite below them knew she was thrilled to have her boyfriend back home again? 

no, cadence thought deliriously, as raleigh started to bounce his hips quickly, fucking her in short, hard thrusts, muttering, “that’s it, baby, say my name.” she didn’t fucking care at all.

his name became a mindless chant as the rhythm of his hips sent her rocketing to an edge. raleigh only grew more frantic with each repeated exhalation, until her volume was drowning out his own praise and everything had narrowed down to the point of focus where they were connected and the way his fingers finally came to rest on her clit, soaked through from the moment he touched her and sliding easily in quick, overwhelmingly blissful circles.

her body went taut all over, her thighs starting to shake. god, but she loved his fucking hands. “raleigh, i’m --”

“do it,” he commanded breathlessly, “come for me, baby, let me feel you. come on, cadence.”

his thumb pressed in against her and raleigh’s hips tilted to drive his cock in perfectly at just the right moment, sending her toppling over the edge into an almost unbelievable wave of pleasure; her mouth dropped open soundlessly as her hips continued to circle against his, and through the haze of her vision whiting out and everything feeling almost too good, she was distantly aware of raleigh following her with one last thrust and another pained moan of her name.

there was a long moment before she felt like she could breathe again. her eyes cracked open slowly, and as her eyelashes fluttered cadence was surprised to find that raleigh was already staring at her, that awed look of reverence back on his gorgeous face.

his hands rubbed soothing circles against her hips, sliding down to knead gently at her thighs, which were cramped and aching and grateful for his massage. she sighed.

“i know,” raleigh murmured, even though she hadn’t said anything, “come here.”

cadence dropped gently down onto his chest and let him gather her into his arms. his heartbeat thumped familiarly under her ear, pounding rapidly while he still worked to calm down. just the weight and shape of him underneath her, and the safety that came from resting in his grip, was enough to make her emotional -- her breath caught not from the physical activity of what they’d just done, but from how much she’d truly missed him.

“no more world tours,” cadence said, surprised to find that her voice was tight. 

raleigh’s hands slipped gently down her back, rubbing between her shoulder blades. he pushed her hair out of her face and kissed her again: first her forehead, then her cheeks, and finally, her lips. 

“never again,” he promised quietly, serious for only a moment before he let one broad palm drift down to squeeze her ass.

her laughter echoed out almost as loudly as her screams of his name, and then it was like no time had passed at all; it was just another saturday in their penthouse, and everything was perfect. 

[gagmebucky]

because it was my love kat who requested this, i had to make this as intense as i possibly could. :^) also this is my first time tackling loki so please be nice!

[@angel-fire: best friend’s ex!loki. enemies to lovers.] 

“You know when I was with your best friend, I thought about fucking you way too much. You don’t understand the amount of times you opened that smart mouth of yours, and I had to stop myself from shoving my cock between your pretty lips just to shut you up,” he tells you as you regain composure and make languorous movements to crawl backward into the pillows. 

in which loki does the classy thing at his ex’s wedding—and fucks her best friend: you. (includes best-friend’s-ex!loki, loki’s pov, reader’s pov, enemies to lovers, dirty talk, overstimulation, mild choking, mild creampie kink, mild knife kink, unprotected sex.)

do not repost.

—

“You know, when I found out her wedding was here, I wasn’t sure if I’d do something. Maybe start a fire, call in a bomb threat, smash the cake. But, I concluded all of those considerations are classless,” Loki Laufeyson breathes in your ear, surprisingly controlled despite the roughness he uses to wrench you against the wall, pinning you between his front and the hotel’s vertical surface. 

One hand is twisted in your previously up-done hair, harshly reeling your head back onto his shoulder, while the other is releasing his belt buckle with a loud clink and ziiiiiip. Once the heavy steel straining against the metal is freed, he’s shoving your expensive gown up and hooking your panties to the side. 

“Fucking you, however—” With a wicked smirk you can’t see, eyes casted on the ceiling, two fingers split your labias, and he slams in. No preparation, other than a few libertine whispers in the lobby to seduce you into coming back here, he propels his formidable length inside you until he’s practically nudging your cervix; a sword sheathed inside your hilt. “—is not.” 

By an immeasurable amount, you’re the warmest, tightest channel he’s had the pleasure of prising into. 

Upon the abrupt intrusion, your silk-like walls are seizing up around him, sporadically pulsating in a struggle to accept something so thick and far-reaching; every tremble is a shard of electricity stabbing euphorically at his nerves.

A cry breaks free from your lips. “Oh, fuck!” you yelp as you desperately claw at the wall, chipping it in your wake and the shudders overcome your whole body. Subsequently, trapped between his powerful build and the wall, your shivers inadvertently have you bucking back onto his cock. 

He half-expects you to tap out, to concede that you can’t handle him—and he will, of course, obey it. In fact, the competitive side of him would be smug in learning that you were all bark and no bite; that you and him used to go at it like you’re on the same level, and you tapping out would only prove that isn’t the case. 

As it turns out, it might be because you don’t tell him to stop. No, you’re purposely rutting against him, albeit whimpers still slip free. It makes his jaw lock, and a mania like he’s never known flood his veins. A cross between anger and competitiveness fuels his muscles because if you think you can take him like your best friend never could, then he’s gonna give you it all. 

He reaffirms the pressure on your hair, making sure there’s a sting in your scalp, and grips your left hip. Then his hips snap forward, and he pummels your narrow channel with every ounce of immense strength and residual anger in his system, bypassing any resistance your slick heat tries to clench. 

The minute he starts hammering into you, your eyes pinch shut, and you bite down on your bottom lip, teeth peeking out to gnaw on your lower Cupid’s bow. He already knows why, but when your hand slaps around your mouth, it only confirms his assumption. 

His lips twist. “What’s wrong?” he cooes fakely  into your profile, words fanning your cheek. “Don’t want to admit its your best friend’s bastard of an ex fucking you this good? That on the happiest day of your best friend’s life, you're getting stuffed by her ex’s fat cock.” 

“Go fuck yourself, Loki,” you just about snarl, but it’s strangled, on the verge of a cry, curling white paint beneath your nails. 

He chuckles darkly in your ear. “Why do it myself when you’re—already—doing—it—for—me?” With every word, he pounds your sticky folds, full thrusts slapping your bodies together in echoes around the pristine room. “No need to play hard to get anymore when I already have you creaming on my cock, kitten,” he practically purrs, catching your earlobe with his teeth. 

You shake your head, as much as you can, and you look like you’re about to rebuttal—not that there’s anything to say, considering everything he said is true. But instead, you clamp your mouth shut once more when the hand on your hip slides around and under your dress to sink between your thighs. 

“Or, are you trying to make sure no one hears me tearing your little pussy apart? ‘Cause I just can’t have that, kitten.” His fingers easily find your engorged button and use circles to abuse it with stimulation. Instantaneously, he can feel the tremors wracking you, wobbling your knees and tightening your inner walls. “No. You’re gonna scream my fucking name so everyone in this shitty hotel hears you. Sobbing and crying as I make you cum harder than you ever have.” 

You shake your head, again. He doesn’t know whether you’re referring to ‘the everyone hearing you,’ or ‘making you cum harder than you ever have.’ Either way, it’d be a lie. 

His teeth grit as his own orgasm burgeons in his stomach. The lightning lashes out underneath his skin, flames lapping at him as your channel begins spasming around his thickness. In contrast to the dexterous and resilient swirls on your little bundle of nerves, his thrusts are becoming more sloppy at the end of his rope.

He relinquishes your hair, turning your cheek into the wall, and reinforces every ram of his hips with his muscular body weight, fucking your imprint into the wall mercilessly. You’ve abandoned your futile mission of stifling yourself, and the high moans tearing from your throat only have him intensifying his onslaught, swelling bigger within you. 

His forearm is crossed around your left flank with three digits working on your clit, a flexing lump beneath your chiffon attire. With his opposing, he slings it around your neck and his bicep cinches your throat, constricting your airway in the slightest. 

“Now, you’re gonna cum for me, kitten,” he hisses in your ear, accented baritone like gravel. “Your soft little pussy is gonna milk my cock until I blow my load inside you. Until you’re dripping with my seed, you fucking understand that?” 

He can feel the delight that spears through you. A shudder, an elongated moan, and a limited nod; the increased fluttering of your channel, the way your body trembles against him but maintaining a tautness in your muscles. 

His chokehold on your esophagus tightens, and he growls, “I said, cum—”

“You fucking bastard—!”

Like that, you come tumbling. You explode in a keen of quakes and convulsions. A slur of curse words is almost unrecognizable—a hoarse call of “Loki!” amid the insults—as your walls become his own personal heaven: a swathe of clinging warmth and velvet, quivering like a massage around his aching cock, a vice demanding all the contents of balls to be emptied in.

He will never admit it, but you wring the most euphoric orgasm he’s ever experienced out of him.  A gratified snarl rips from his lips, your name angry and pleased at the same time. Spurt after spurt shoots inside you, thickened white swallowed by your soaked valley, residual wet dribbling down his cock. 

His legs almost give out with the force expelled out of him but he braces a wide hand on the wall and manages to remain upright. After a series of seconds, he frees you carefully, exiting you with a still semi-erection. But when he does, the moment you’re on your own, your thighs shake and you hit the ground. 

Face flushed from exertion, a sheen illuminating your breath-taking features, pupils blown wide, you’re panting like a cat in heat. Your maid-of-honor dress is disheveled. Your legs are askew, giving him a peak of your abused sex and the remnants of him leaking onto the wooden floors. 

This is supposed to be it. He should feel satisfied, but instead, he feels an insatiable hunger stiffening in his cock. Considering the feelings he harbored for you during his relationship, and the fact that the chains forbade action on them are broken, he’s going to take advantage of every bit of it. 

You expect him to kick you out, walk off after making some snarky comments. (Which you’d be perfectly fine with. A good fuck is a good fuck, no matter how reprehensible the fucker is.)

Rather than leaving, he stays looming over you in that still-impeccable black suit. His emerald blue eyes darken in a gleam of ravenous as his stare drags over your freshly-fucked form; an expression that has your stomach restricting with concupiscence. The muscles in his jaw clench, and in a glaring instant, he hauls you up by your armpits. 

“Shit,” he hisses, british timbre hot coaled with hostile desire. Effortlessly, he hoists you eye-level, big hands secured underneath your ass. “You’re fucking tiny.” He draws your body in closer, dwarfed in comparison to the mountain of strength clutching you, and adjusts you until your abused and dripping sex is rolling against his growing cock. 

The stimulation has you gasping, bucking as the smarting shocks needle at your nerves, but the reaction only forces you to grind harder against the glistening anatomy between you, his cock gyrating with every stride he makes. “G - goddamn it,” you snap, words cracking, grasping his shoulders for some sort of purchase. “What the fuck are you doing, asshole?!” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” The corner of his sinful mouth curls cruelly. “You.” 

With that one word, he heaves you up then drops you down, letting gravity impale your swollen depths on his somehow already fully erect cock with an audible slush. A douse of ice wracks your system at the blunt penetration, and your eyes squeeze shut while biting sensation ricochets through every cell of your being. 

“Fuck!” you cry in tandem with him slamming you onto a luxurious pallet you obscurely recognize as a made bed. Your spine arcs as he wastes no time plunging in and out, and the painful bliss ravages you in a way no other has before. Your arms fail out, and he takes it upon himself to gather your wrists above your head. “H - holy—fucking—shit—!” 

“I hope you didn’t think this was over, kitten.” Smug enjoyment at your wanton demeanor, he chuckles above you, his hips driving himself inside you relentlessly. “Far from it, actually.” His hand glides underneath your knee and stretches it high over his shoulder so he’s hitting deeper than before—than what you even knew existed. “No. A bendy and infuriating little thing like you, I’m gonna take my time taking you apart.” 

You’re gasping and bucking like a bronco but he maintains his authority over you. “F - fucking bastard—you fucking bastard,” you croak but you don’t want him to stop (if he did, you’d probably beg him not to but luckily he doesn't want to either), tears prickling at the beleaguering tide of pain and pleasure pushing and pulling inside you. “I hate you.” 

“No, but you love my cock.” He smirks. “And, I must admit, I love your tight little pussy.” Snaking his hand under your dress, he locates your aching bud and encircles it with his thumb, forcing these whimpers from your throat that have his eyes blazing. “And the little sounds you make while I’m completely ruining it. If I knew how superior you are to your counterpart, I would’ve had you splayed out for me in a minute.”

“Asshole!” you sob, tossing your head back while your knuckles fists in his clutches. “As if I’d ever give you the time of the day.” 

“Oh, that stings, kitten,” he says but there isn’t an ounce of care in his devilish voice. “But I know how you can make me feel better.” The rough pad of his thumb presses onto your button and spirals ruthlessly, lancing you in a bind of fire. “You’re gonna have your pussy cream around my cock. Or I suppose I’m going to make your little kitty cream around my cock.” 

Your entirety shakes and blurs. Overstimulation overrides you at a pace you can’t keep up with. “C - can’t. Not yet - not yet,” you warble as he cranes down so you’re nose to nose. The tendrils of his long raven locks fall like a curtain on either side of your profile; the wickedness in his eyes makes yours widen. “Loki—!”

“I didn’t phrase that as a question, did I, kitten?” His hips swivel in sync with his quickening digit, and claims your orgasm as his. Like a wave, Loki washes over you and pulls you under. 

The first time, he couldn’t see your face but now he can; and he basks in. Agonizing delirium contours your sweaty features; your eyes flutter to the back of your head, lips parted in a drawn out cry. Your chest juts out and jiggles with the trembles undertaking you, your overworked channel quivering around him.

But as he possesses you, you do likewise to him. With a triumphant groan, he pumps his cum inside you in rivulets of hotness. His gaze follows down to see his veined, tanned girth glistening in white translucent; your sex battered a pretty darkened color and swollen. When he withdraws, his bulbous head remaining at your entrance, a flood of his essence oozes out. 

“Look at that.” His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, somehow still looking as hungry as before. “I always knew your pussy would look so pretty all fucked swollen and leaking cum.” 

The words flare smarting zaps to your nerves, and you only manage a whimper. Your bones are like jelly, and you don’t even think you could ask for a break, but luckily, he takes pity—or pleasure—in seeing you like this: legs spread, breathing heavy, rendered completely speechless. 

“That good, huh?” he teases and lets your wrists go but you don’t have the strength to move them or soothe the prints left by him. For the millionth time, his gaze roams over you, eating it up like you’re a gift he’s been waiting for all his life. But his eyebrow quirks as if saying something’s missing, but in a flash, what that is seems to occur to him. 

He digs something out of slacks, and the silver shimmers in the light as he flicks the clip-point pocket knife open. In a skilled twitch of his wrists, he cuts your halter top down the middle like a hot knife into butter, the tip of the blade kissing your goosebump hackled skin. 

The danger of it, your body’s wild motions at his behest easy for a slip, for some reason burns you hotter. Your heart hurtles in your chest as he hacks away the waistband of your panties and reveals you wholeheartedly. The point traces down your mound and has you subconsciously clenching which has him smirking before tossing it on the nightstand. 

Then he’s undoing his jacket, nonverbally telling you your time together hasn’t even begun to be over, and arousal heightens underneath your skin. And you wish you felt some sort of shame for it, some sort of moral decency advising you to not make your betrayal worse, but there isn’t. 

As of now, you figure there’s no point in it, anyway. On the day your childhood friend tied the knot, you allowed the ex she cheated on—who you absolutely loathed at the time with his silver tongued remarks and sarcastic ripostes—motel room to fuck your brains out. Not once, not twice, but probably an uncountable amount by the time he’s finished. 

“You know when I was with your best friend, I thought about fucking you way too much. You don’t understand the amount of times you opened that smart mouth of yours, and I had to stop myself from shoving my cock between your pretty lips just to shut you up,” he tells you as you regain composure and make languorous movements to crawl backward into the pillows and away from his swelling erection. 

But he catches you by the ankle and reels you back underneath him. Your whole body hums, and your only response is a pitiful whimper as he continues: “Times where I fucked her so hard she couldn't walk in the morning all ‘cause I couldn’t put you in your place like I wanted.” 

Shirt peeled off and pants pooled around his knees, he lifts you up. His strong arms hook underneath your knees to palm your hips until you can feel his tip hovering under your abused sex. “And you want to know where your place is?” he rasps in your ear. “As my personal fucktoy.” Then WHAM! he burrows himself inside you while your pleasure-laden sob bounces off the room’s walls. “Wrapped around my cock, making this sweet little pussy squeeze again and again until you physically can’t. And even then, I’m gonna make you cum again.”

[masterlist / feedback]

[01010010-posts]

abo anon. i saw your response to my rough play ask &... imagine 69ing with omega connor. he's on top, hands bound w rope behind his back, mouth knotted as his alpha continues to eat him outas he writhes, holding his hips tightly & spanking him cuz he's overstimulated & moving his hips a bunch, moaning around his alphas cock. when it's finally over he's still moaning from all the praises as alpha wraps him in a blanket & kisses his bright blue face.

AHHH sorry for the late reply!!!first of all yes, absolutely yes??? how the fuck do you even think these things im crying,,,, i bet you would be super good at writing them!!! you should try it!!connor with his hands behind his back, tied by a rope, squirming, because he both hates and loves being restricted like this, his mouth completely filled, the sensors on his tongue going into override, his body at the mercy of his alpha, who doesn’t wait on his omega to adjust but continues to stimulate him, their tongue moving, their fingers gently caressing connor before striking again and spanking him, leaving a visible mark on his skin. the same that’s weirdly blue on his face, around his nose and under his eyes. he can’t help but be overwhelmed by all these sensations. he might overheat a bit. and by a bit i mean a lot. and by a lot i mean he’d gladly faint from the pleasure. AND the praises dont get me started on the praises. he’s feels drunk whenever you praise him!!! giggly connor that adores being praised, esp during sex!who wouldnt honestly *clap handsx4*i dont have anything to add to this ask bc it’s perfect already if not that im fucking guilty of making omega connor such a sub because im wEAK why cant i peg android boys,,,,!!!!!! :’(((i love this sm mdk.djkdjdkjlj60 would prob have a hard time bc he’s him ok but if he’s feeling more angry/jealous than insecure then gosh,,,, he would *drag* his alpha somewhere close and private and pout. he’d stare at them for a long time, not saying anything, his shoe probably tapping nervously on the ground. they’d have to figure it out themselves. which, they do, because they know 60, they know what’s gotten into that tiny head of his. and so they apologise, kissing, cuddling, pulling him near, hugging him. but that’s just sufficient to calm him down and reassure him. of course it’s not enough. he needs to be teased too. to let him know that his alpha learned a lesson. and he’d probably take control of the situation, kindly, but still control. he’d make his alpha beg. and yes, they would def reek of each other’s scent. everyone needs to know!!connor would repress his jealousy because come on it’s a stupid emotion to feel of everything he could. he shouldn’t even think about it. and yet. yet he’s there, his mind clouded, his eyes roaming the room, looking at you, secretly playing with his coin in the pocket of his jacket…. GOD. he can’t do this anymore. he asks to speak with you in private and as soon as you’re alone he regrets his decision why did he do it oh no no no now you’re gonna laugh at him for being so stupid, for being so jealous, jealousy is bad right? but he cant help it. it’s stronger than him. so he just,,,, lowers his head like a guilty puppy, muttering something inaudible and you coax him into repeating it again and again until it’s actually sounds and then letters and then words you can understand. and you don’t like what you understand. you didnt mean to make him doubt himself. you sigh, sweetly cuddling him, biting his neck, leaving splattered marks here and there, not bothering to stop this ritual that has him gasping ever so slightly, there’s plenty of time to talk about this at home, in the moment there’s just him and only him, his need to be gratified, to be told ‘good boy’ and ‘i love you’, to be reaffirmed as your lover, as enough. he’s so enticing you can’t help yourself either. he looks embarrassed but happy at the same time when he returns to his workplace before you, to not be suspicious, though his and your scents mixed together don’t leave much to the imagination for others.RK900 mhh. he’s possessive allright. but he’s also quick to get annoyed and that’s maybe one of his biggest flaws. not to mention that’s he’s vvvv needy in this AU. he might either not even give the other omega the chance to approach his alpha (have you seen this boy? he’s fucking huge, he’d scare anyone in a heartbeat) or let them do whatever they want just to sulk later, be nervous and have this distressed scent & aura around him. of course he wouldnt tell anything to his alpha. not because he wants them to get it as 60 or something like this. he’s just. a bit sad. he knows he’s an android and it often hits him. and when it does he’s…. really at loss for words and reactions. he’s apathetic. so it’d probably be his alpha having enough of their distressed omega and acting kinda brash, taking him somewhere quiet. he’d get more nervous and with a 100% probability he’d retort in a bad manner at the ‘what’s wrong?’ of his alpha. and he’d try to get away with it. to just wait for the sour mood to pass (though he knows it won’t pass, not like he can forget or anything like humans do). BUT his alpha feels guilty af, they def pushed him and did the wrong thing. so they grab his hands and ask him to stay. at least a little. he doesn’t move, letting you do whatever you want, he’s tired already. he only needs his nest. so you bit your lips and apologise to him, comforting him, not leaving even a doubt in his mind, he’s the one, he’s the only person you want, yes, he’s a person. not an android, not an omega. a person. your person. he’d probably want you to hug him for a solid minute, inhaling your soothing scent, taking deep breathes, ingraining in his wires that you’re there and you’re his. and everything will be this way forever. he’d linger his tongue on the bite mark he did on your skin, wanting to remind both of you that you’re soulmates. partners. mates. doesn’t matter the name, the only thing that matters is you two. it would definitely evolve into something more, needy as always, but this time with him wanting you to feel a bit bitter, a bit like he does whenever someone is too flirty with you. whenever you don’t smell like him in every part of your body. which, after he finishes with you, wouldn’t be possible.AHHH??? thank you baby?? this means a lot bc jdkjdlkjd i hated that thing, i posted it and wanted to forget about it. but maybe re-reading it after some days it’s not super bad. if you like it then that’s the most important thing!! it was thanks to you after all!! tho im a bit sad that i lost the purpose of it halfway through, think it kinda shows. i could def have done better ugh!! or maybe im not cut for writing sexy things who knows!!!! (as i was typing this i lost this whole answer for a moment and started to cry and shake, fortunately i got it back)FUCK?? YES?? MHH??he promised!!!! now he has to obey his alpha n be good and actually get off from his little friend down there. and boy he does. he still has to try 4 out of 4 speed. he’ll,,,, cum sm. dirty. AHAHAH his voice box goes hoarse for a sec, thank god he’s an advanced model and quick to disable it because he was this close to let everyone hear. which, ironically, turns him on like there’s no tomorrow. does anyone even work at the DPD or they just all have sex there?

[preciousrichard-blog]

ST,SC: Bonus Chapter (Sniper/Spy)

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9867137/chapters/22677656

Rating: Explicit (NSFW)

Summary:  Following the events that took place in Spy's car, Sniper comes back to his camper feeling hot and heavy, and a little adventurous.

This bonus chapter takes place at the end of chapter 7.

It wouldn't be fair. Sniper locked the camper door behind him in the dark, but he didn't bother turning on the lights over his head. He wasn't able to shake the heat that fought to consume his entire body since the BLU spy had pounced on him less than twenty minutes ago. It wouldn't be right of him to do this after denying him the way he had. It wouldn't be fair after seeing the way it crushed him; after making Spy wait out of senseless fear of the unknown. But oh God it was too much, his hand was already slinking downward and he hadn't even taken off his hat.

He unbuttoned his pants, the brown fabric coming loose and releasing the gentle bulge that pushed against his y-front briefs. What a mess he was, coming apart at a hungry tongue in his mouth and wet kisses on his tender collarbone. He'd never thought of himself as this easy, but then again he'd never been so passionately attacked by another man.

He cursed, and slipped his tinted sunglasses from his nose, tossing them aside along with his hat and argyle sweater vest. He cursed again while he struggled to slip out of his shoes as he walked toward the bed. He was shaking, he was a battle worn hired killer and he was shaking. It thrilled him, excitement prickling at every nerve, hands trembling as they gripped the ladder, calves shuddering as he climbed into the nook overhead. He sighed, the heat pooling and surging downward the more he realized that this was happening, that he was going to do this.

It wasn't like him to do it this way. When arousal struck him, as it regularly did, he sorted it out mechanically, relying on the sensation alone to bring him to the conclusion. But that's all it had ever been, an unavoidable function that he resolved like he would an aching joint. He had been content never fantasizing. He had forced himself not to when he'd decided he was better off alone in the bush. Sex thereby could never haunt him there. 

But now he was rubbing at his sensitive flesh through his underwear, thinking of the spy and losing himself because of him. It was terrifying, shameless, and so fucking good. He mouthed guilty apologies under his breath to an absent Spy who was made to be alone as Sniper pleasured his own body. He found his mind was beyond his control now, and all the deplorable filthy images from his most carnal inner self were being released with every stroke of his fingers. Every filthy thought of Spy he'd pushed away was at once allowed to live. He tugged at the outline of his rigid cock beneath the fabric as he laid back. He didn't care that his pants were now bunched around his ankles, or that he'd probably end up cumming on his shirt. All he wanted was to push aside his inhibitions for the first time in ages and actually, really, honestly, truly indulge in his masturbation. He'd forgotten how good it could be when he imagined, when those nimble gloveless fingers and prominent joints hotly touched at his cock and balls in his mind. He closed his eyes, feeling at his neck in all the places Spy had lapped and nipped like a pleading beast. He shivered, reliving the feeling of being pinned down by a gentleman who hid the brewing force of an animal in heat under his pompous front.

Sniper likened it to the times he'd seen animals pin each other down to mate, howling and squirming with primal ravenous desires. He bit down hard into his lip and slipped his hand past the waistband. The head of his cock was dripping, and it pulsed under his touch. He gasped, his own body surprising him with the extent of his arousal. This was Spy’s doing. This was what that deplorable, sneaky, handsome, considerate charmer of a gentleman did to him.

“Oh fuck…” He groaned at the slippery feel of excess wetness.

Smearing the precum over his fingers, he slathered it further down his stiff cock to lubricate his grip. This was damning. He now knew he was destined to be ridiculously overstimulated by the Frenchman when the time came. He wouldn't last five minutes like this. He’d probably cum in his pants if Spy was really there. But he reasoned that he didn’t really care if it would always be this gratifying. Even through the subtle embarrassment in coming undone the way he was, he could feel himself twitch, growing ever harder under the lasting memory of Spy's touch on his skin.

Lecherous ideas came and went as he lost control of his fantasies. He pumped his slick shaft to the thought of mounting Spy and pushing inside him, then letting it fade as he realized he was unsure of just how to imagine the feeling. Curiously he rolled to his front, panting as he imagined the role reversed, with Spy's broad lean body overpowering him and pushing him down. Sniper had his reservations about having something as intimidating as Spy’s rock hard dick inside a hole as tight and inexperienced as his own, but his eyes grew blurry as he became courageous enough to venture there with his hand. It was all so much, so good, what was the harm in trying? He pulled his underwear to his knees, ass bare and spread in the air.

He pushed his fingers down the cleft of his ass, wiggling them through curly dark hairs. He moaned at the previously withheld sexual touches to his ring of tight puckered muscles. He pumped his weeping cock harder while shakily pushing a digit inward, but found the intrusion unpleasant and dry. Desperately he shoved his middle finger into his panting mouth, slathering it in sticky saliva until it was dripping with the liquid. He reached back again, cool wetness making him squirm and hum as he made contact. He pushed in, finger slipping into his backside only to the first knuckle before he realized spit was less than adequate for what he sought. 

It had to feel good somehow, he thought, all those fortunate enough to know the experience couldn’t be lying. But with as far as he could reach, it was only a strange intruding feeling, made stimulating in that it was perversely scandalous and excitingly new. He resentfully gave up when he could push no further without the proper lubrication, but despite his failure, the curiosity remained. His fantasies instead filled the space again like a fluid. Spy's hands, Spy's tongue, Spy's teeth and heat all flooded every empty space of his being. He envisioned Spy's well sculpted ass, likely firmed from all their daily running. He imagined gripping it, digging fingers into the flesh as the Frenchman lay back, tasting his cock with his tongue as he did.

Sniper was cumming so suddenly he shocked himself, gasping as his eyes screwed shut. Every muscle tensed as he pushed his face into the pillows and orgasm took hold. He squeezed around his shaft, pulling and tugging as thick semen erupted from the slit of his cock and landed on his sheets. He was too lost to care, his hips jerked into his fist and he moaned louder than he ever remembered moaning before. He thought of Spy watching him, of hearing his vulnerability and witnessing him fall apart and grip at the fabric of his bedding. The electric shooting through his body and dick shook him to the point of collapse, and he dropped to the bed on his stomach, groaning into his pillow.

He felt amazing. He felt liberated and dirty and hot. All he could describe it with was good, so bloody good. He felt so bloody fucking good. When he came back down from his sparkling high the first feeling to dawn on him was the sweat on his shirt under his arms. He quickly remembered he was lying in his own seed. He reeled back making a sound of shocked disgust, but his body was loose and weak, so he merely rolled to his side to escape the inevitable stains. He looked down at the white wet spots pressed into his red shirt and rolled his eyes. He'd have to wash everything now, but it was a small price to pay for the best climax he'd achieved for himself in far too long. He rolled further aside to his back and pressed the bend of his elbow into his eyes, panting quietly and letting the buzz of his body run its course.

Sometime later, the guilt returned to him while he tried to sleep on freshly changed sheets. He really did wish Spy hadn’t been so drunk, maybe the two of them wouldn’t have been in bed alone tonight if that had been the case. He wondered how it must feel to hold Spy’s warm body beside him in the dark. He didn’t think it’d be too bad, and when he bashfully pulled a spare pillow into his arms he admitted it would actually be pretty damn nice. He didn’t know what was happening to him lately, but no number of kills or years of war could keep it from feeling nostalgic and right.

He found a soft confidence growing deep in his chest, that he could learn how to nail this whole relationship thing. He’d man up and face the unknown. He’d bounce back from his mistakes as long as the spy was willing to forgive them. Whatever the task, he’d do his damnedest to satisfy that fussy bugger in bed. If he set his mind to it, he could even be the best bloody lover Spy had ever had… Alright, maybe that one was a stretch.