Veralyonn - Fictional Men Do It Better

Here's to another sexy villain that will make me question my morals

“gonna have to stuff your tummy full of cum” I- CANNOT- 😫😫 I feel like reader begging for him to fill her tummy with cum and put a baby in her would drive DBF Crazy. And then she just whines about feeling too full after because he makes her cockwarm him keeping that cum plugged in there- since she begged for it-

Oh this is the most beautiful thought, imagine how he’d use his own dick to keep you plugged full 🤤

Because you’ve begged him for a baby. You’ve begged for a belly stuffed full of his cum and now you’ve got it, he’s not letting you squirm away. He’s made you finish 4 times for good measure, making sure your body sucks his load as deep as possible.

“Bucky please, m’too full. Can’t take it. Y-you came so deep inside me, holy shit.” You groan, still trembling because you got your wish. You’re bound to be knocked up already. You’re ovulating and your partner is a super soldier who’s likely got exceptionally enhanced fertility, there’s not a doubt in your mind that he hasn’t just flooded your womb and made you a mommy.

“Shhh baby, take it. Fuckin’ take it. This is what you asked for. You begged me to fill you. Begged me to fuck a baby into you. So I fuckin did. Gonna look so pretty with a cute baby bump. Can’t wait to fuck you and fill you every damn day until you push that baby out and then I’ll put another one in you as soon as possible.” You feel his dick throbbing inside you again already, hard and aching and ready to give you another thick load to make sure he really bred you the way you begged so desperately for

just finished my mid-term exam and YOU make me cry reading this 😭😭

after all these years.

silence lingers, the kind that could only live between two people who have known each other so intimately.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: soft angst, exes to maybe-lovers. ambiguous ending

writer’s note: the lovely hera {@doll1917} was the first person to send me a prompt for bucky’s birthday, so thank you angel! <3 as always, i’m late but writer’s block has been winning most days. hopefully this isn’t too terrible x

For one fleeting moment, he thinks he’s fallen from the edge.

The sound of your soft, wistful voice is reminiscent of what he assumes to be the euphony of a self-imposed haven. It controls him — so much power you wield, yet remain unaware. How one word has him forgetting the bottle beside him, eyes transfixed on your presence as you move closer.

“You never did like parties.”

Smiling, gentle and kind, the heel of your shoes reverberates the metal; climbing the balcony before your legs hang over.

New York never stops — the infamous city that never sleeps. But Bucky’s tired; his gaze unwavering as he stares, too scared to blink in case you’d disappear like the shouting taxi drivers below.

“You’re here,” he breathes; letting go of the strain in his neck as his shoulders drop.

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” It’s simple. Too casual, and yet, too acquainting.

Bucky’s fingers twitch, itching for the alcohol that’ll burn his throat — maybe it’ll convince him that you’re actually here.

A vulnerable emotion, all too familiar, flickers across your features; eyebrow tense as you pick at the fabric of your shirt. There’s a chill in the air as the season continues to transition, and he watches as goosebumps raise along your exposed skin.

“Here,” his voice is light; devoid of the harsh bite you’d become accustomed to. “Take this.”

Warmth envelops you, the wool of his jacket a comfort as it wraps around your body. The musk of his cologne placates you; bergamot and orange filling your lungs like an oxygen tank — clear and strong as it settles your frayed nerves.

“I have something for you,” you pause. “Well, found something, really.”

As your hands fiddle with a jean pocket, his eyes widen at the appearance of an emerald green box. There’s an overwhelming pounding in his ears; heartbeat racing as he’s confronted.

The implication is heavy in the way your eyes glaze over sadly, holding it toward him as you silently beg for him to take it from you.

He does.

“It didn’t feel right keeping it,” you swallow. “I hadn’t even realise you’d left it.”

Inside, is a silver band; a delicate floral filigree that leads to an understated sapphire — his Mother’s wedding ring.

Bucky knew he hadn’t taken it the night he ended your relationship; convincing himself it was an incentive for a life the two of you could have. If he could get better — be better — because if he did that, then he could return; get down on one knee with the promise of forever.

A pit lodges itself in his stomach, the guilt a calamity as he gazes at you; full of understanding, even as it tries to mask the hurt. “You could’ve,” he murmurs. “I’d have come back for it someday.”

“I know.” The smile you give is rueful; an infinite amount of hidden meanings behind it as you choose your next words carefully. “But I wouldn’t have been there when you did.”

Only, Bucky can’t accept them as they tumble from your mouth, like they upset him more than they ever could you. “What are you saying?”

“I’m moving,” you say; irises suddenly unable to meet his. “To London.”

He swears. “You’re leaving?” And though you nod, he still shakes his head. “Why?”

“Because there’s nothing left for me here.”

Another pause. He’s selfish; palms begging to pull you close, to not make the mistake of letting you go again. “But you love Brooklyn.”

The tilt of your mouth is pensive, a secret on the tip of your tongue waiting to be spilled. “Bucky,” you hesitate. “You were Brooklyn.”

Those three words shatter something inside of him, the last piece of his horribly bandaged heart as it fractures on the floor of his rib cage.

Regret isn’t unknown to him — it’s a sealing wax on his emotions, one that stays no matter how much he tries to burn it away. It seeps into every line and crevice, taking up residency even as he tries to evict it.

Steve had once told him that the things the Winter Soldier had done wasn’t him — wasn’t Bucky — and yet, he held onto the remorse for years to come.

Eventually, he would begin to agree, rationalise and understand. Which was why the guilt came tenfold when he looked at you. Because that had been his decision, one of clear mind as he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek with a murmured goodbye.

“You’re overthinking.” Your hand is warm, affectionate as it touches his thigh and pulls him back from the abyss his mind provides. “Can practically hear those thoughts churning.”

“Do you think you’ll ever come back?” He asks, bright cerulean glimmering at you with tender yearning.

“I’m not sure. Maybe.” You’ve always been honest, almost to a fault. It was one of the reasons that attracted Bucky to you — your tenacity, your wit. The way you were unwilling to compromise when it came to your heart.

It reminded him of someone he once knew.

He knows it must be written across his face, the question — will you stay? If he asked, would you? But he knows the answer from the way you bite your lip, brows furrowed; a line appearing between them.

Before he can stop himself, his hand brushes along your cheekbone; tracing your nose as his thumb erases the worry. The slight movement of a shiver isn’t lost on him, and Bucky presses closer to you; knees bumping as the faintest scent of whiskey greets you.

“What if I came with you?”

It’s a scenario you’ve thought of a thousand times. A wonder you weren’t sure you were allowed to have. The past months have been blurry — days blending together, dates being non-existent.

Life without Bucky had been an unexpected adjustment. Your one constant had suddenly disappeared almost without notice, and you spent the last thought of each night, with the hope that the next morning he’d be at your door.

Except that day had never come. And you relented. Giving up that wayward dream until you’d woken up to a message from Sam — an invitation, your only attempt to offer your own goodbye.

But those cerulean blues have you damned. You’d already accept the lifetime rate — what’s an eternity?

“I couldn’t ask you to give this up, Buck.” You’re shaking your head, unable to meet his stare.

As long as you’d known him — too many years to be exact — the fight was always priority. The need to show himself worthy, to wipe the red in his ledger.

“So don’t,” he reasons; calloused hands resting against your jaw. “Let me prove myself, let me make up for all the time we’ve lost.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you hate the way his voice breaks; emotions unfiltered as his forehead rests against yours. It’s tender, familiar. Calms your rapid breathing as you ground yourself to the moment.

“I’m scared.” 

Fuck, he knows it. Feels it too. But you’d unknowingly opened the possibility of a second chance, and he wasn’t fucking that up.

“Me too,” he assures you, letting you know that he wasn’t pretending it’d be easy. “I thought when I left that I was doing right by you, god, you deserved better. Still do.”

You pull away from him, not looking away as you reach your hands to hold his; intertwining them as you speak, “No one can decide what’s meant for another person. If it did, then I’d have walked away earlier than you.” The disbelieving frown he gives makes you chuckle. “Buck, you’re one of the best people I know. You’re so good, so fucking good that it makes my heart ache that you don’t see it. Most of our relationship was spent with me anxious of the thought that I would never be enough for you.”

“You are,” he interjects; squeezing your fingers in kind. From the warmth that fills his cheeks, he knows he’s flushing pink; waiting as your head tilts slightly at the way his teeth knock together from how quickly he gives you the declaration.

A small smile appears, one that he returns as you agree, “Just like you are, for me.” The sincerity in your tone nearly catches him off-guard, if it wasn’t for the fact he had sounded the same.

Silence lingers, the kind that could only live between two people who have known each other so intimately. The type that sends a pulse through his chest as the illuminating lanterns reflect in your knowing eyes.

“Happy birthday, Bucky.”

His thumb soothes the back of your hand, an alleviating sense of peace lulling his movements as you lean against his side. “Here’s to many more.”

The together goes unheard.

end note: i’m a little rusty considering it’s been a while since i last wrote but hopefully this was okayish lol. thank you so much for reading <3

masterlist ✧ ko-fi ✧ library

How are our chubby and baker men doing today? Did Bucky name any deserts after us today?

Chubby Baker Bucky is celebrating today!

Pairing: Chubby Baker Bucky x Reader

Word count: Less than 1k.

Warnings: Oral, implied overstimulation, praise kink

A/n: Written on my phone. Unbetad.

“Happy Peach Day,” Bucky says with a cheeky grin.

Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you gaze down past the soft planes of your belly at your boyfriend. “Pretty sure it’s International Women’s Day,” you correct, laughter apparent in your tone.

Bucky tilts his head, brows pulled together in faux confusion. His eyes darting from your face to your pussy. That’s he’s currently decorating with some special peach frosting he bought yesterday.

Seeing his name written neatly across you brings a smile to your face, it’s the fourth word he’s eaten off you today. To celebrate your day, he said while the last orgasm still pulsating across your pliant, sated body.

“There are other women? Besides my peach and pretty girl?” He says slowly and incredulously, as if you declared that the sky was falling, his blue eyes glimmering with amusement. “Since when?”

Tossing the cannister on the floor, it rolls away with a sharp clatter. He shakes his head, spreading your folds with his long fingers. “Are you sure?”

This man, you think, your chest shaking with laughter. Only your chubby baker would get offended by something like that. You really should know better by now. You settle back on the bed, preparing yourself for what's about to happen.

And he doesn't let you down.

“Bucky,” you start, biting back a gasp when he flicks the tip of wet, pink tongue over your clit.

Bucky slides a hand under your ass, easily lifting you closer to his face, setting one leg over his shoulder.

“Can you believe her? Trying to say its not your day. ” He whispers to your pulsating pussy, swiping his thumb through your glistening arousal. “Peach, I'm sorry but that can’t be right. No. We only celebrate you in this house.” He pops his finger into his mouth, his eyes rolling back, lips parting, an unabashed fuck you taste good unfurling on his tongue.

He places a chaste kiss on your clit, murmuring, “I think your pretty pussy agrees with me and you know I have to do what she wants.”

It’s salacious and painfully erotic, the way he’s staring at you, the need to have you on written across his expressive face. He craves you more than anything in this world. Heat blooms in your pussy, unleashing another wave of his slick.

“Fuck yes,” he groans, swallowing thickly. His keen eyes watch your pussy drip for him. “That’s it peach, give it to me, I want every drop, you’re so pretty, I can’t stand it.”

You can’t think when he praises you, not when his pupils dilate until only a thin rim of his gorgeous blues remains in his lust-filled eyes, not when he buries his face between your thighs like he can’t resist being away from you for another second.

A moan, breathy and needy and broken, resounds in your throat. “God yes,” you grunt, grabbing his hair in your fist. “Right there Bucky.”

He places a wet, deep open-mouthed kiss on your clit, pleasure spikes through your body, the fiery sultry sensations sweep up your spine, making your back arch off the bed. “S’good, oh that’s s’good,” you chant, spurring him on.

His tongue circles your throbbing bud, his moans and sighs vibrating through you with every pull and drag on his mouth, his fingers flex and dig into your ass, keeping you flush against him while he inhales you.

Harsh gasps spill from your lips, you yank his head, unsure if you’re trying to push him away or bring him closer. The onslaught of sensations causes your thighs to lock around his head.

Your orgasm takes you off guard, you don’t have time to cry out his name, your mouth falling open on a wordless keen, body convulsing in his grip. Sensation after sensation snaps through you until you’re gushing on his bearded face.

Bucky gently places you back on the bed, his hands slide around your inner thighs, spreading them. “Like I said,” he starts, nipping your skin.

Your head lolls to the side, feeling too dazed to lift it off the bed. A whimper crawls up your throat when you see his drenched beard, his tongue sweeping across his pink lips.

“Happy Peach day." Bucky meets your glossy eyes, a smirk forming on his face. “And I plan on celebrating for the rest of the day.”

You giggle breathlessly, knowing that means more orgasms followed by massages, bathes and him making you dinner.

“And since it’s your day, you tell me what you want me to do to your pretty body and I’ll do it.” His hungry, lust-filled gaze drifts back to your pussy.

“Or you can just lay there and let me worship you.”

perverted things the Arcane characters do

feat.: Viktor, Jayce Talis, Silco, Vander, Vi, Jinx, Ekko, Mel, Marcus

warnings: nsfw content, masturbating, dry humping + more

requested?: yes! | reblogs appreciated!

VIKTOR knows you're rather concerned about his wellbeing, which is why it only comes as a mild surprise when you offer him to take a quick nap while leaning onto your body. He's an opportunist at heart — his head is soon resting on your chest, his cheek against your soft skin, and he's not actually sleeping, not when his dick is straining hard against his trousers with how close his face is to your tits, but you either don't seem to notice or to care. Besides, he's so exhausted, so surely you'd never ask him to back off, right?

Another thing that he always enjoys is teasing you; it doesn't matter about what, really, as long as your face flushes with a lovely blush, your cheeks suddenly hot, and, god, if only he'd get to see that embarrassed expression while you're bouncing on his dick or kneeling between his legs.

“Are you quite sure you're alright with this, love? Ah—, well, then I must thank you. I could truly use a quick nap. Thank you for looking out for me. I appreciate it, I really do.”

JAYCE has the unfair advantage of his height, so whenever he glances down at you, he's got a perfect view on your cleavage. He can't help but stare at your tits, especially when there's some lace from your bra showing. The sight alone has his dick twitching in arousal, and even though you've caught him staring a few times, you don't seem to mind it much.

It's not often that you and Jayce do sleepovers anymore, especially since he's a Councillor now, which is both a blessing and a curse for him, and also makes this one night a lot more special. He kind of missed the way he used to grind against you while you were asleep; it's not even on purpose, he's just too needy to control himself, and if your ass is pressing so nicely against his dick — really, he's sure no one would be able to resist.

“Haha, very funny, really. I wasn't staring at you — and especially not at your tits. You're just short, it's inevitable that I look down on you.”

SILCO's lips quirk into a smirk when he 'accidentally' pushes an important document off the edge of his office desk. At this point, he doesn't even have to ask you to get it for him anymore — you bend over willingly, panties peeking out beneath your skirt, and for a moment he entertains the thought of you doing this on purpose to tease him.

He also enjoys making you beg for, well, anything, really; your whiny voice and your pouty lips get him hard almost immediately, his dick straining uncomfortably against his trousers. Whether it's for a raise or for his attention, Silco simply loves hearing you whimper and whine.

“What is it, dear? Ah, I see. So you're of the opinion you deserve a raise, hm? Honestly, I'm not quite convinced. Why don't you ask me again? Nicely this time. Mind your manners, will you?”

The first time it happened was an accident, and that you were wearing a white blouse had been bad luck, but now VANDER has to be careful not to spill water onto your shirt too often — that'd simply be suspicious, even though he doubts you'd become wary of him that easily. The sight of your bra showing through your nearly translucent shirt is almost too much to bear for him, though.

One day, when he was looking for you and quickly glanced into your room during his search, he spotted a pair of your panties on your bed and, god, he didn't actually want to do it, but he couldn't help but take them. Now, he regularly jerks off with them in his hands, the delicate fabric wet with his precum as he grinds against it.

“So sorry 'bout that, doll, didn't see ya there. But hey, it's only water. No stain. Just wait here, I'll get you a towel — or do you want one of my shirts?”

When VI suggests you exercise with her, you happily accept, though her offer isn't out of entirely pure intentions — she enjoys watching your tits jiggle while you're both out on a run, or seeing your ass in tight trousers when you force yourself to do another squat, despite how much you're already shaking.

She also loves the way you smell — whether your signature perfume is a rather floral or a musky scent, she's enamoured with it. Whenever you hug, she buries her head in your neck, and she even bought the perfume you use one day. Now, she regularly sprays it onto her pillow whenever she gets herself off — it simply reminds her so much of you, it's almost like you're there, laying next to her.

“Hey, come on, babe — you can go a little lower than that, can't you? Your squats need some more work, that's for sure. Lucky for you I don't mind keepin' an eye on you while you practice.”

JINX is rather short, so, if you're taller than her, she uses this to her advantage and lays her head onto your tits while you're hugging. The gesture looks innocent enough, and it's perfect for her to inhale your scent, whether it's your natural smell or a signature perfume.

Whenever you're talking to her while focusing on something else, Jinx can't help but occasionally touch herself to the sound of your voice. While you're saying something completely innocent like what the weather is like, she's curling two fingers inside of her, another one drawing circles around her clit while you mention how your new coworker totally sucks.

“Hm? What did ya say, sugar? Ah—, sorry, 'm just a lil distracted by your voice, fuck. No, no, continue, darl. Go on. Wanna hear you talk more.”

EKKO feels disgusted by himself when he slides a hand into his trousers to grasp at his already hard dick, precum leaking onto the fabric. His gaze is on your sleeping form, your expression so so peaceful, and his fingers close around his cock at the sight, almost making him moan. He simply can't help but jerk off while you're asleep, and it really isn't his fault that you're so intent on cuddling close to him, your ass against his hips.

Whenever you two playfully wrestle, he pins you down with one hand pinning both of your wrists to the ground, a smirk on his lips. It's not his fault that heat curls in his stomach at the sight of your flushed face and wide eyes, your hair splayed out around your head like a halo and your lips opened just a little.

“You're so easy to defeat. You really need to practice some more to make this exciting, you know? Or, wait—, now you're starting to make me think that maybe you just like having me on top of you.”

It's no secret that MEL enjoys buying you things you want — though she also can't deny that she, more often than not, picks the skirts, dresses and trousers she buys you a size too small, if only to see the fabric stretch tightly over your chest and hips, accidentally drawing more attention to the area. When you keep tugging at the cloth, self-conscious, she chuckles while complimenting you — even if your top is sheer enough to clearly show your bra.

Similarly, Mel enjoys watching you change; no matter if you're elegantly stripping yourself of your clothes or if you're awkwardly fumbling with the zipper. It's the intimacy of the act that has her wetting her lips with her tongue as her eyes roam over your form.

“There's no need to be shy, baby. You look as beautiful as always; I can guarantee that all gazes will be on you tonight, so quit worrying your pretty little head and trust me, alright?”

MARCUS claims that he wants to walk behind rather than in front of you for safety reasons, though he honestly just wants to steal a glance at your panties underneath your skirt. If you're more prone to wearing trousers, the view is just as good — especially since the fabric stretches nicely to hug your curves.

Despite being embarrassed by it, he also picked up the habit of watching you shower. He's not trying to be creepy, seriously, and he respects your privacy — well, or at least that's what Marcus tells himself while he stares at your naked form, your face flushed because of the hot water, steam obscuring his view. One of his hands grasps at his own cock through his trousers and, fuck, he really should leave, but you are showering at his house, in his bathroom, he's not stalking you, and that makes it a lot less weird, right?

“What? The only reason I insist on walking behind you is that I care for your safety. You should know that by now — I told you often enough that I don't want to risk anything happening to you.”

notes: reminder that you can still request some Arcane drabbles for Valentine's Day! also first Marcus post! fun!

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