#oomfie

jazz!!!!!!!!!!! a @fabba-banna/@a-late-bloomers-guide-to-love oc!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I really wanna answer to peoples questions about bendy, i wanna spoil something big yknow? Or any other person

If u dont want spoilers just tell me to give you small hints!!

GODDDDDD hi oomfie ily <3333

But yeah <3

Art pissed off after a shitty practice, just needs to be taken care of :(( poor little pretty boy, mad because he kept double faulting, his reaction time was slow, he had to scramble around the court chasing after the ball like an idiot.

So you have to be the one to take care of him, even when he’s huffy and mouthy, insisting he’s fine, that he doesn’t need to be coddled. But he does!! You strip off his clothes, pin him down with your thighs locking over his.

“Just relax for me,” you murmur in his ear, teeth grazing over the shell of it. He lets out a sound like a whine and bucks his hips, already needy but not desperate enough to beg.

That’s okay, he doesn’t have to. You spit into your hand and move your palm in front of his mouth, so he can do the same. Your palm is hot and slick when you wrap around his cock— hard and pulsing in your grasp.

Groans are ripped from his throat as you begin pumping your hand along the length of him, squeezing him just how he likes, so he whines and bucks into your fist. Moans pathetically when you twist your wrist just how he needs, his head falls against your shoulder as he pants.

“That’s it, baby.” Your words are hot, breathed against his throat. “Feels good, huh?”

“Uh-huh—“ he moans. Your free hand travels between his thighs, cups his balls and he fucking keens. “F-fuck, yeah— that’s— god, baby— ngh!“

You mouth at his throat, sucking and licking at skin salty with sweat. He’s fucking pulsing in your grip, fighting against the way your legs lock around his thighs to fuck into your fist.

His back arches as you rub your thumb over the sensitive head of his cock, digging into the slit slightly until he’s gasping out pathetic cries. All it takes is for you to move your hand up to pinch and toy with his nipples, and he’s fucking done for.

“Ah! F-fuck, cumming— cumming—“

He spills onto his abs and chest— painting them in thick white ropes until he’s shaking from overstimulation and writhing away from your touch.

Pookie and Oomf/Oomfie flags

trophy girlfriend drabble

"fuck, baby", art growls against your neck, hungrily mouthing onto your skin.

"watching my game looking like that- you're a fucking tease."

he picks you up with ease, tossing you onto the soft sheets. your pussy drips at the sight of him, hair messy, lipstick smeared across his lips.

"so fucking pretty." art mutters, kneeling down to push up your skirt. he practically moans at the sight, lacey white panties turned clear from your arousal. he nuzzles the wet patch with his nose, before mouthing at your covered clit.

"art- please.." you whimper, desperate to feel him on you, without a barrier.

"you taste so fucking good." he grunts, gently sliding off your panties, a string of your wetness connecting from your glistening cunt.

"why don't you have a taste?" he whispers, prying your mouth open with two fingers before shoving your soaked panties inside. you moan at the intrusion, muffled around the makeshift gag.

"be a good girl, keep those in there."

art takes no time before diving into your cunt, spitting and licking like you're his last meal. he eats pussy with a passion, almost more for himself than you.

your back arches with a dampened whine as he sucks harshly on your clit, slurping up every bit of your juices. arts practically making more noise than you, between the lewd sound of his tongue against your slick and his deep groans.

each time his tongue thrusts into your dripping hole his nose hits your clit perfectly, bringing you closer to the edge.

"c'mon baby, be a good girl and cum for me." art growls, head never leaving from between your thighs.

you fall over the edge when he curls two fingers inside of you, sucking roughly onto your swollen bud. you bite down on your panties, fingers tugging on art's blonde locks.

when you've come down art pulls the lacey lingerie from your mouth, soaked with spit and your juices. he takes a deep sniff, before shoving them in his back pocket.

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Trying to communicate telepathically through these images that I want you