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#the ‘is daddy making you feel good’ fucked me UP anon
psychwxrdd · 3 days
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crazy
summary ౨ৎ - you have to sit on roman's lap inside peter's car.
warnings: pure smut, 18+, minors dni!
🎀 - was listening to crazy by aerosmith and ended up with this. also anon who asked for a smut with roman, this is for you but i lost your ask 😭 i hope you like it!!
not mine gif
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why did he even suggested this in first place? did he really thought it was a good ideia?
peter was driving, right beside his MOTHER and you and roman were both sitting in the backseat. there was a few boxes in the seat you were supposed to sit, so roman had the brilliant idea of making you sit on his lap. and now you couldn't stop grinding against his hard on.
his grip on your waist was getting tighter and you could hear his breath getting heavier. the skirt you wore and the way your hips were moving slowly maked it seem like you were giving him a lap dance. he lifted your skirt a bit, so he could watch your ass, biting his lips to control his lust.
peter and his mom were talking about something serious, and you felt bad for not being able to pay attention. you just couldn't resist.
"shee-it" roman murmured.
"shut the fuck up" you murmured back.
"peter, stop here" roman said sternly.
"what? why?" peter's mother stared at you both with a concerned look.
"just fucking stop the car she's about to throw up"
you stared at him and he blinked at you.
"i think she's pregnant, peter"
your eyes widened at his lie. that son of a bitch.
literally.
when peter was about to ask you something, roman grabbed your arm and took you out of the car, heading to inside the forest. you were unsure about what was gonna happen; would he fuck you? drink your blood?
"fucking tease aren't you?" he pinned you against a tree all of sudden, making you gasp. he was so tall that it made you a bit scared. "want my dick that bad you almost made me fuck you in front of them? filthy slut"
"please..."
"beg for me." he wrapped his hands around your throat, kissing you harshly. his tongue was exploring your mouth in the most disgusting, hot way possible. you felt desperated for him to fuck you.
"please, roman"
"please, what?" he asked in that annoying usual tone.
"please fuck me"
"please fuck me what?"
you rolled your eyes, and he slapped your face softly.
"don't fucking roll your eyes on me"
"please, fuck me... daddy" you cringed at the last word. roman smiled.
"thats my girl. bend over"
you immediately did and he didn't waited for you to be ready or adjust, only putting all his thick and huge cock inside you.
"ROMAN!"
you moaned in pain, it felt like you were being ripped apart. he stayed still and let out a groan.
"would you look at this" he chuckled, admiring the way your pussy was suffocating his dick. "i don't think i'll be able to stop"
you had a few tears in your eyes, but it was starting to feel really fucking good. your wetness made the pain quickly disappear.
"move... you can move now"
didn't needed to tell him twice. he thrusted out and inside you like a mad man, like he was hungry and wanted to devour your soul.
he first started slow, enjoying the feeling of being inside you. but you were driving him insane, all that tease, your little gorgeous body, that pretty face and all the desire he had for you, mixed to the way you would away turn him on and then go away.
"harder, roman"
"what's my name again?"
he held your wrists behind your back, pounding into you in a mind numbing speed.
"d-daddy... go harder, daddy. fuck me dumb"
his groans were so fucking hot.
"who owns you?"
"you, daddy"
he used one of his hands to held your head against the tree.
"ouch!"
"y/n..." he moaned, "tightest pussy i've ever fucked. can i cum inside you?"
"yes... please, cum inside me"
hearing that was it for him.
"fuck..."
you felt his hot liquid inside you, and it felt so good you kept your hips hitting against him.
"yes, just like that... keep fucking yourself on my cock, darling"
he kissed and licked your neck, holding your throat, arching your back against his chest. the way your pussy was clenching around him was enough for him to cum once again, this time, you came too.
"you're mine after this"
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loganlermanstanaccount · 11 months
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Can you write a college roommate head cannon for miguel O’Hara ( 18+ f!reader)
ik you asked for HCs but I have no self control... my bad, anon!
College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons
(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist
pairing: College Roommate!Miguel O'Hara x f!reader
summary: Miguel is your roommate. And he’s hot. That’s it, that’s the tweet.
warnings: 18+ as fuuuck. F-receiving oral, using toys, masturbation, voyeurism (-ish), grinding, praise, service dom (idk?) Miguel, recreational drug use (reader and Miggy smoke a blunt). Minors DNI
a/n: I am a firm believer that modern day Miguel listens to 90s rnb, back when men were men: unabashedly, unashamedly down so fucking bad for their partners. he just gives me those vibes!!
edit: I'm writing a full fic for this! Rigor Mortis, college au fic, read here.
wc: 6k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'm thinking you become roommates but he's your last choice. 
Very last minute: you have a big falling out with your now ex-boyfriend, and the plans for flatsharing next semester goes right out the window. 
So all the good places are taken, and you're going apartment-hunting, but everywhere's either too expensive, too dirty, or there's a predatory clause hidden in the lease: shitty landlords and blaring red flags in 9pt Times New Roman. 
When you stumble upon Miguel O'Hara; a student in private accomodation who, lucky you, is in need of a roommate; it feels like a godsend.
Rent is affordable and he's nice enough; refusing to grunt more than a few words to you, but is clean, organised, and from what you can tell, is barely in the apartment. 
You sign onto the lease, desperately, hoping you've just been lucky and trying not to look a gift horse in the mouth. 
You give a thousand mile stare at the blank document in front of you. A bullshit paper due in exactly 12 hours. Yes, you left it until the final stretch, and yes, it's 10k words. Very doable. You're not fucked. Nope.
You blame it on the banging from next door. Paper thin walls; obscene noises. Cries of Yes Miguel and Just like that, daddy have been plaguing you for almost an hour. His stamina must be superhuman, the way the woman in his bed has been howling. Howling may seem extreme, but she sounds like a dying cat: cock drunk and babbling over Miguel O'Hara? 
Your new roommate had been nice enough. Quiet, unassuming, and seemed more than absorbed in his schoolwork. So you didn't expect him to unashamedly fuck the girl he's been tutoring for the past week. It all clicks. The "perfect roommate" turned out to have one teeny tiny little flaw: loud, obnoxious sex, well into the early hours of the morning. 
On autopilot, you're clicking through tabs on your bed. Perhaps you're a prude, but the sex noises are abrasive, excessive, to the point of parody. Persistent, Miguel's low voice reverberates in the walls of your bedroom; making heat pool at the base of your stomach. 
"You want it, hermosa? Tell me…. such a pretty girl… like that?" It's muffled, but his voice is unmistakable. Low, greedy, heavy with want. God, the last time someone's spoken to you like that was… 
You shake your head free of cobwebs. No. You're not rewarding him. You can't . Your roommate is shameless, and inconsiderate, and really fucking annoying . 
The smacking noises increase, coupled with banging on his side of the wall. Resolute, your face hardens. From where you perch on your bed, you slam the wall with the side of your fist. 
"O'Hara! Keep it the fuck down!" 
~~~
He's a biochem major, up to his ass in assignments and he still has time for societies, internships and tutoring. 
The only times he'd be in the apartment really was an impromptu session, and you didn't notice at first, but it became more obvious as the semester went on.
As a so-called tutor, he only seemed to pick the prettiest girls - they would twirl their hair on your kitchen counter and bat their pretty lashes at him when they didn't understand. Favours for a couple of friends, is his only response when you ask. 
It felt like you'd open the door to a new girl every week and you are baffled. Donned in makeup and short skirts, they'd waddle in asking for Miggy, or drop off half-finished assignments whilst craning their head through, trying to catch a glimpse of him. 
The absurdity would make you laugh if it wasn't affecting your sleep. 
Not that he's not absolutely gorgeous, but he's so quiet you would never have thought he had it in him: to have a revolving door of women lining up to lay underneath him. 
This time, her name is Sarah: pretty little thing in Miguel's Advanced Math class.  She perches on a stool, wearing a tight dress that is wholly not appropriate for a tutoring session. She's one of his regulars, if you can call it that, and has been failing for at least 2 semesters. You flash her a smile as you pad through the kitchen, searching the cupboards for a snack. God, she is gorgeous; dolled up for another long session with Miguel, no doubt.
"Where's he gone?" She asks politely. 
You shrug. "I couldn't tell you, sorry."
"It's okay… I'm just a bit stuck." You almost snort and catch yourself. For some reason, you didn't think they actually did any work, merely a pretense for the… cardio later on in the day. 
You glance at her sheet of paper, scribbles in purple pen with large swathes crossed out. Leaning over, you scan the page.
"Right here." You point and she follows with a manicured finger. "You fucked up with this integral and I think… yeah, I think that messes with the whole thing."
Her eyes light up as she follows you, explaining with a piece of cookie hanging out of your mouth. She's definitely smart, just a few little mistakes here and there that you're happy to point out. Thanking you fervently, she rushes to correct it. 
"Ah, it's no problem. I get mixed up with it too." You smile and notice Miguel by the doorway, watching with a strange look in his face. You roll your eyes as you walk past. What a fucking weirdo. 
"Thought I was the tutor?" He croons.
You raise an eyebrow, voice low as Sarah is engrossed in her work. "...I don't want to fuck her, Miggy , if that's what you're worried about."
A little cruelly you push past him, shoulders clashing against one another. Is he smiling ? For now, you blame your perpetual tiredness when you think you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. 
~~~
You're a light sleeper, and it all makes for a tired, delirious combo. You sleepwalk through the day, scramble to finish assignments and whilst it's not all O'Hara's fault, you can't help but blame him for a lot of it. 
After you successfully get through one long week, you decide to celebrate. That means a couple hours of mindless hedonism: your favourite movie, greasy food…. and your trusty dildo. Not at the same time, of course. 
Miguel's not home, and he's not tearing down the walls with some other girl, for once, so you decide to treat yourself. 
You've been going through a dry patch, and you'd hate to admit it, but he does sound good through the thin drywall. 
It was a joke gift; given to you by a friend for your birthday. An obnoxiously purple dildo with a suction cup at its base. Aptly named Hugh, due to its - ahem - large stature. Standing tall at 7 or 8 inches, far bigger or thicker than any partner you've taken in the past. Sitting around a small diner booth with your friends and opening the bag to reveal him, had been quite the experience, for sure. 
It wasn't your fault you had gone through a dry spell in the past few months. With work, with school, with relationship issues, you hadn't had the time or energy to sleep around. Not that you were desperate for drunk, lackluster sex, followed by an awkward dance of ubers and shitty coffee in the morning. Like many, you preferred to do it yourself. 
Laptop open, you ease yourself onto the toy, already slick with lube. Prepping yourself with your fingers had been quite the task, tabs open to something on a lewd website. It's cheesy, but you didn't really like the bright lights and plastic of usual porn. The moans felt too fake, the sex devoid of any real passion. So you found a couple of independent creators; couples, mostly; carnal fucking with fervour only borne from real love . It's embarrassing to admit it, but your favourite parts are the little kisses and touches in between, or light laughter after a rough session. As if to say: it's okay and I'm still here. 
On your screen now is a longtime favourite video, a broad man bullying his fat cock into his partner. You can't help but think he looks like Miguel, not as pretty but tan with strapping shoulders, and large hands that wrap around the neck of the girl in the video. 
" F-Fuck," You breathe, sinking down onto your toy. You bet Miguel's palm on your throat would be deliciously rough, and you imagine how he'd fuck the brat out of you like the man on your screen. 
What hadn't occurred to you, however, was that the thin walls went both ways. Whilst you were quieter than many of the girls Miguel brought home, you were fairly shameless with the moans and curses that fell from your lips. Headphones on, you were blissfully unaware that Miguel had slipped into the apartment some time ago. The slap of your thighs to the floor, the desperate whine as you roll your hips over the toy - he can hear it all. 
Miguel has a conscience, so he does feel some amount of shame when he slips a hand down his trousers and presses an ear to your shared wall. He closes his eyes and bites down lusty groans, fisting his cock to your pretty noises. Noises he's been wanting to hear from you for months, now, imagining it was you underneath him instead of his usual partners. 
He times it just right, squeezing around his tip in time with the steady slap just beyond the wall. Are you fucking yourself? On your knees, hands flat on the floor, churning up your insides with a toy… or maybe ass up, dildo attached to something…? He almost cums with that mental image, wondering what you'd look like on your knees for him. Is the dildo as big as him? He knows you, knows you'd want it to hurt - for his cock to stretch out your pretty pussy when he cums deep inside you. 
All things he thinks about with a hand around his cock, and he's already close. But he wants to cum with you, listening intently for the signs. 
" Fuck," Your voice comes out muffled, but it makes him buck up into his fist all the same. " Need it… oh God, I-" 
He speeds up, wondering what it would be like to have your thighs shake underneath him, what it would take to have you babbling and begging for more. How would he break you? Maybe on his cock, where he'd watch you squirm as you take his length. Or on your knees, choking around him and licking up his cum. Or, God, thighs wrapped around his head, riding out your high with his mouth sealed on your clit, crying for him slow down, for him to-
" H-Harder, Miguel, please." 
He releases, sudden and intense, spilling white ropes into his boxers. 
" Fuck, Miguel…"
He fucks his fist through it, overstimulated from the way you say his name. It feels like the only way it should be said; spilling from your mouth, haphazard and desperate. Like honey, like treacle; sweet things he didn't know he had the capacity for. He lets that feeling wash over him, panting, bringing his forehead to rest on cool wall. 
~~~
He's hot. He's smart. He's a whore.
A total blindspot for you, and no matter how much you can't stand him; you still find yourself stealing glances whenever he's home. 
And he does seem to be home a lot more, often choosing to study on the dining table rather than his room. It's like he does it on purpose, using the warmer weather as an excuse to wear tiny tank tops and loose gray sweats - showing off the muscles of his broad back and arms perfectly.
Funnily enough, when he's not around those girls, he's bearable - seems to have grown a couple of brain cells in those short few days between sessions. 
You laugh and joke, sometimes, and he surprises you by suggesting a movie one quiet night. 
He offers you his sweater to snuggle into, you eat your weight in greasy takeout, and your roommate seems like an actually decent guy?? 
You had fallen into an easy routine: O'Hara leaves a flask of coffee for you to snatch up in the morning, hair damp from the shower and all, and you meet him with netflix and instant noodles in the evening. A push and pull that works in the little space - much smoother than your rocky beginnings.
After a truly shitty day, you come home to a quiet apartment. Almost sleeping through an exam, forgetting lunch, missing the bus home, and having to trek back through pouring rain in a thin coat. Everything that could go wrong, did, and you are left with the pieces. You trudge through the living room into the kitchen, the wet squelch of socks on laminate floor haunting every step. Shedding your limp outerwear, you lay the contents of your backpack onto the kitchen counter: clumps of loose paper, the damp leftovers of a textbook, bleeding ink. Your main concern, however, is your laptop slick with rain water. 
With baited breath, you put it on the slab, and press the power button. A click, a stuttering whir, and the screen flickers on. Then, just as strained, it putters off. Dead. Completely dead. Your legs almost give out, and you lean on the counter to steady yourself. Half of your life was there; including the final project that would make up a good chunk of your grade. It takes you everything not to collapse onto the floor right then and there. 
"How was it?" You hear the click of a door and Miguel calls out from the hallway. 
You wince."...F-Fine?" 
You hear footsteps, as he gets closer. "Are you asking or telling me?" 
You clear your throat, desperately trying to keep your voice steady. "Fine. It was fine. I'm just… it was fine."
Back still turned, you fumble around with the wet contents of your bag, hoping he doesn't notice. 
"Long day?" He says warmly, head poking into the kitchen. Haphazardly, you spare him a glance from behind your shoulder. He's dressed in a sweater that fits snug around his chest, rolled up to expose his forearms, and loose sweats. In his hands, he drinks from a cheesy mug - your mug, donning a stupid pun. He looks warm. Cosy. Domestic. For some, reason it makes your heart sink even further. 
Long day? "Something like that." You manage to squeeze out. There's a pregnant pause as he comes closer. Rummaging blindly through a cupboard, you try to hide behind its door. If he sees you like this, now, you don't know if you'll be able to hold it together. 
You close the door, and all of a sudden he's there, mug in hand. 
" Fuck, man- " It makes you jump, as he squints and takes a sip of his coffee. 
"You look… wet." 
"That's because it rained, Miguel." Snapping at him, your tone is biting. You're tired, stressed and in desperate need of a cry, but he is unrelenting in his gaze. 
"Are you ok?" He asks, unfazed. 
There's a lump in your throat and all you can do is nod with a tight expression.  His eyes flicker towards the counter and you shuffle, trying to cover up the mess. And then you watch it happen; initial confusion, a flash of realisation, and then worry; all in the space of a couple seconds. 
Gently, he pulls you aside to inspect the damage. "Mierda. This is pretty bad. You sure you're ok?" 
He's got a hand on your arm now,  The dam breaks and you crumple into tears in the kitchen floor. Of course, he comes with you, rubbing your back as you blubber through the details. 
" Nothing's going right for me… and I've got my final project on there… I'm barely keeping up as it is…" All he does is nod, face tight with something you can't quite name. It must seem pathetic to him, you think, shamelessly crying on the kitchen floor, complaining to your poor roommate. He can't leave you like this, because he's a decent person - but internally, he must think you're going crazy. 
It helps, having him there: a steady presence by your side. Slowly but surely, your tears subside. 
"You could've asked me to pick you up." He hands you some tissues off the counter, and watches as you mop up the tears. "I would've come, if you called."
"I didn't… I didn't think we were…" You search for the right word. 
"...friends?" He offers, with a small smile. "You think I let just anyone steal my sweaters?" 
"First of all," It makes you laugh, despite yourself. "You offered. And second, I've seen what you do with your friends, and I don't know if I have the energy for it."
"Ouch." Bashful, he rubs his chest like it aches. He sits a little close to you, knocking your shoulders with his own. "I know this girl who's crazy good with computers. I could ask her to take a look, if you'd like? Might not be able to save it but maybe we could recover the files?"
"...I'd like that, to be honest."
"Muy bien ." He leaps to his feet, palm stretched towards you to help you up. "I'll run you a warm bath or something. You're creating a puddle and it's going to ruin my floor."
"Our floor, asshole. I pay rent here, too." 
~~~
You find that you enjoy being around him, and he feels the same. 
You can't help but compare him to your shitty ex who you were planning to move in with: and even with his quirks, Miguel is better in every way. 
There is harmony in your household, for a while, and you almost look forward to coming home to him after class. Almost. 
It doesn't last long, because of course it doesn't. You'd thought you'd come to a tentative ceasefire, able to casually rib and joke with each other - takeout and B-roll movies aside. He leaves you leftovers from food he makes, you turn down your music when he's studying, and he even woke you up the other day when you had slept through your alarm.
Beyond the wall, his music is loud: a playlist you recognise as the one he puts on to (unsuccessfully) mask the noise of his usual late night adventures. Cheesy love ballads, heady RnB that leaks into your own room. You'd rather die than admit his taste in music isn't horrible, but it usually means a long, long night for everyone around. With finals around the corner, there's no way you can let this stand. 
What kind of person does that? Lull you into a false sense of security with Snakes on a Plane and pepperoni pizza? 
Absorbed in your own work, you hadn't even realised he had someone over; let alone was gearing up for obnoxious sex. You'd bang on the wall, but you feel like you guys are past that: crossed a threshold of intimacy that means you can shout at him up close and personal. 
So you stomp over to the hallway, banging at the door to his room. In the short trip there, you've worked yourself into a frenzy. How many times have you told him to keep it down? That it was rude and inconsiderate to flaunt his sex life in your face; to fuck other women so loud you were practically involved? There was something about the little smile he would give you afterwards, when you catch him shepherding his latest out the door in the morning - like he gets off on it, enjoys it, when you react. Even when you think you're over it, he still manages to drive you absolutely crazy. 
“Miguel? Open the fuck up!"
You're still fuming when the door opens with a click, and Miguel appears in the sliver of the doorway. He opens it so that his frame is half swallowed by the door, top half peeking through with a lazy hand in his hair. And of his top half, he's bare from the waist up, black band of his boxers sitting low on his v-line and loose sweats. 
All the wind is knocked from your sails, and you lose your train of thought. 
"Yeah?" 
"I…" You clear your throat. "I don't care who you fuck, but when I'm doing work-" 
"-I'm not." He chuckles. "There's no one here, hermosa. Just me. And you, I guess…"
There's something about the way he says it, lazily, as if it's his first time saying those words - wrapping his tongue around your name to see how it fits. If it fits, how it tastes. His relaxed posture, the way his hair falls…
"You're high." Your brow shoots up. "... you're high!" 
With a finger pressed to his lips, he grabs your hand and pulls you into his room, eyes darting around the hallway. 
"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone. "
"I won't." You breathe. His face is serious at first, and then you're both giggling. You've never seen him so carefree, and it's nice to see Miguel walking around without the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He's still holding your hand, pressed close, and you see him drag his eyes up and down your figure. "You want do something you'll regret…?"
"...I've got a 9am, tomorrow, I really-" 
"-shouldn't?" He finishes, dragging his hand up your bare arm, pupils blown. He gets up to your shoulders, tucking your hair behind your ear. It's sinful, the way his touch is gentle but gaze heavy - violent in the way he practically eyefucks you. You feel bare, in little sleep shorts and a t-shirt.
He steps back, lounging on his bed, and makes for a half finished blunt by the adjacent window sill. Sighing, you sit by him, sinking into the mattress. He pats you closer, dangerously close, and you comply. One arm curled by your waist, the other brings the blunt up close and you wrap your lips around it. When Miguel brings a lighter to the blunt, you lean into it, knuckles brushing your lips. 
You take a drag, long, heavy, eyes closed. And when they open, you're met with his own. Maybe it's the weed, maybe it's the heady atmosphere, but you swear his eyes are low and deep with lust.
"Good girl." He rumbles, cupping your chin and tracing a thumb to your lips. He separates, bringin the blunt to his own lips before leaning back to pass it to you. As quick as he gets close, he pulls away; leaning back into the expanse of his large bed. And he looks good, head drawn back and the curve of his tan arm drawn upwards. Tufts of hair from his chest, the trail that leads down suggestively - and without inhibition, you basically drool over him. God, there it is. You feel it kick in and let it wash over you. 
His music, long forgotten, blends into your downy haze. You want to sit in his lap, rest your head on his chest. You get it now: if this is the view all those women he tutors get to have, then you finally understand. 
"Come closer, hermosa ." You barely register the nickname, only focused on the way he says it, the delicious way it rolls off of his tongue. You nod, and shuffle closer. His siren song sounds sweeter, somehow, up close. 
You pass the blunt between you both, and watch it dwindle to the last dregs. Lying down next to him, he clutches your hand and takes the butt between his fingers, letting its flames die as you watch. You giggle and his gaze softens.
"I didn't expect this from you." You look up to see an upside-down Miguel, hiding a smile. 
"Expect what?" He drags himself downwards, to rest his head by your side. 
"All…" You gesture vaguely. "This. Don't even think I've been in your room for this long, before."
His room looks exactly how you'd expect it: tidy and modest, a row of trophies neatly lined up on a shelf, a telescope pointing out towards a window. There are posters by his bed; science related, mostly. You tilt your head in the direction of one of them.
"Is this what they see?" You mumble to no one in particular. 
He manages to catch it, sluggish in his response. "...Is this what who sees?" 
"All the girls you fuck." It tumbles your of your mouth, before you can help it. 
He tilts his head too, looking at the poster and you watch the sharp lines of his jaw besides you. Even at this angle, he's so pretty. 
"Huh. I guess they do." 
"It's not very romantic, is it?" You blink, oblivious. Your question is met with a noncommittal shrug. "What was her name last time? Cassie, Clara-something…"
"Katie." He hums. 
"Katie." Ignoring the twinge of disappointment at his quick response, you hope it's the weed and not jealousy that made you pretend to forget her name. 
You sit up on your haunches, tracing the valleys and mountains of his bare chest with a leisurely finger. You try not to notice the way he shivers at your touch. 
"I could hear everything. Every, 'Yes daddy'," You feign a moan by curling your lips into an O-shape. You bring your other hand to your hair, head tilted back with exaggerated movement. "And 'right there, Miggy, right fuckin' there' ." 
Technically, you're making fun of him and laughing, expecting him to follow. But he doesn't, head back and eyes boring into you - only bringing a hand to press yours at his chest. 
"Thin walls, Miguel." You clear your throat, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Too far, probably. "Sorry, shit. I didn't mean-" 
"I hear you too." He says softly. "I heard you, the other day."
Head filled with cotton, it takes a moment for his words to really click. So he elaborates, lacing his fingers with your own. 
"Fucking yourself, hermosa ." He says it lazily, like the vulgarity of the act doesn't register.
Your eyes widen in horror. How much exactly did he hear?
"...and I heard you say my name." 
"It was…. i-it wasn't like that-" Fuck. You can't think straight as it is: and his voice is low and silky, rubbing circles on your hand close to his chest. Even now, he oozes confidence, the steady thump-thump of his heart giving away nothing. 
"Hmmm? Then what is it like?" You blink at him, unable to answer. "You're a hypocrite. You complain about all these women I supposedly fuck, but then-" 
He pulls you closer, so that your lips almost touch his. "-you lock yourself in your room, touching yourself and thinking about your poor roommate. What am I meant to do with you?"
A pause, and in your daze, you can't breathe. For all your theatrics, it's too easy for him - to prod and tease, and for you to chase after him. You move to kiss him, but he grabs your chin at the last second. "Not quite. I want to hear you say it."
"Fuck- " You crumple, hiding your head in the crook of his shoulder. Even in your haze, the nerves bubble up from the base of your stomach. "Fuck me, please , Miguel."
He places a hand on your thigh, leading you to straddle his middle, other hand wrapped around your waist. He grinds your lower half into his, leaning up to bring your lips together. 
He tastes sweet, greedily lapping up your moans in the clash. You're not thinking, not really, lost in the heat of his body, desperate and eager when you kiss. To contrast, Miguel cups your chin, pulling you away for air whenever you sink too deep. Somehow, he still manages to look smug, taunting you with a flash of his little fangs whenever you separate. If you weren't feeling the effects of that blunt, you may have had the means to be embarrassed at how much you want him - needily grinding against him and pawing at his chest. 
It's too slow, too leisurely, like a punishment; and he refuses to give you what he knows you want. Your whines betray you when he finally slips a hand down your shorts. 
"¿Paciencia, hmm?" He grabs a handful of your ass, clothed cock catching on your clit. It rips another moan from you, which he happily swallows with another kiss. "Patience, princesa."
You hump against one another like teenagers, your hands planted by his head for purchase. Hips moving of their own accord, you chase the relief Miguel provides: with his hands kneading your ass, length catching at your clit, and teeth nipping at your bare neck. 
He licks a stripe up your collarbone, soothing the blossoming hickeys with a hum. 
Fuck, how can he be so casual ? You don't know if it's the weed or something else, but he is in his element, hand dipping down your back to graze at your pussy from behind. He hisses when he realises how wet you are, swiping his fingers down your slit and taking them out to pop them in his mouth. 
Now, flushed and face hot with embarrassment, you look up at him with big doe eyes. It makes Miguel feel guilty for stopping you so close to your climax. Beautiful : lower lip hooked under your teeth, plump and swollen and kissable. He'll make up for it later: a promise he whispers into skin. 
"You're soaked." He cups your cheek to press a kiss to your forehead, and all you can do is whine. His gaze dips down, to the swell of your tits in that thin shirt.. 
"What did you think about when you touched yourself?" It's soft, said in the warm press of your bodies; hook-shaped and hazy and you fit like you were made for one another. The thought lingers, plants a dangerous seed that makes you forget that the man underneath you is your roommate : unrepentant whore, Miguel O'Hara. 
"You." You've seen it first hand, he eats hearts for breakfast; and yours is on a platter for him to devour.
He laughs, deep and rumbling, hands resting on your waist. "I know that, baby. You don't have fantasies? Fuck yourself to the thought of someone touchin' you just right?"
Not just someone, him, you think. Your voice dies in your throat at the way he looks at you. "Just… n-nothing really-"
He hums, grinding your hips onto his. "Speechless, I can't believe it. Is this what I need to do to get some fucking peace around here?" 
You roll your eyes, "Don't be a dick, Miguel. When I shout, it's because you deserve it."
"...there it is." Eyes shining, his face stretches into a shit-eating grin. Wide, unabashed, unambiguous. "You back with the living, sweetheart?" 
It makes you laugh, even though you hate to give him the satisfaction. 
"What do you want?" He kneads your thigh and pleasure pools at the base of your stomach. 
You mumble something begrudgingly.
"Hmm? Can't hear you, baby."
Louder, now. "...want to sit on your face, Miguel." 
Lowly, he groans, shaking his head. "Mierda… of course you do."
Expertly, he helps you take your shorts off, dragging the thin material down your thighs. You clambers upwards, wrapping them around his shoulders, watching intently as he kneads the soft skin. It's tentative, at first, and you place your hands on the headboard to perch just above his mouth. 
He licks, diving in with the flat of his tongue: a long upwards stroke that ends with him sucking your clit. Moaning, your hips jump and he chases your pretty pussy up, large palms pushing you back down. He concentrates on your bundle of nerves, lips around your clit like a man on a mission.
And, God, does it feel good; he watches and learns from your every movement, committing your body to memory. His moans vibrate deliciously, tension building at that spot faster than your mind can register it. Then, you clench around nothing, gushing into his mouth whilst he eases you through it. The noises he makes are obscene; one leg off the bed and a hand snaked under his boxers. He's getting off on it; watching you crumple and sob around his tongue. 
And when you begin to move off, thighs sore, he doesn't relent, sealing his mouth on your pretty little hole. 
"Miguel.. fuck-" After your first orgasm, it surprises you when he continues, tongue fucking you with fervour. He presses you close, impossibly close, and your body fights against his ministrations. Heat, everywhere, and it's too much. The haze of the blunt begins to wear off and you are left with biting clarity. You want more of him, deeper; drunk off of just his tongue. 
You card your hands in his hair, and he moans: deep and wanton, with his eyes fluttering shut. He wants to look, to watch you when you cum on his tongue for a second time. Back arched, the curve of your tits peeking through a tiny top, fucking yourself on his face. He wants it hard , wants you to take control and use him to get off. 
"Right there, fuck… "
Like you can hear his thoughts, you press yourself down harder, riding the deep ridge of his nose for relief. Miguel complies and leans into it. He eats you out like a man starved and the carnality of it all brings you to a second peak. You cum once again, legs wrapped tight around his face. Head back, he laps it up readily. 
You separate with a wet pop, and Miguel looks blissful : fucked out and panting, wiping the slick off of his face with a forearm. Exhausted, you lean back onto the mattress beside him. 
"That was…" He searches for the right word, and it's your turn to finish for him. 
"... good. " Scarily good. So good you won't be able to see him around the apartment without remembering what he looks like trapped between your thighs. 
Gently, he turns to cup your cheek and bring your lips to his. It starts off sweet and deepens rapidly, making that thread at the pit of your stomach tighten, again. He grabs your thigh, bringing it closer, and you feel his length poking your stomach. Fuck. 
"You haven't…?" Your hand makes for his trousers, and he stops you. "I want to, Miguel. Want you to feel good too."
His head sinks into your shoulder. "I know, baby, I know. Not like this. Not yet."
You nod, still wrapped up in his arms. You haven't even fucked, and it feels more intimate than it should. 
"You've got a 9am tomorrow." He smiles with a hand underneath his head. 
"I've got a 9am tomorrow," You repeat, sighing. "...and my life is falling apart. I'm failing half of my classes as it is."
He turns to you, lazily. 
"I could tutor you, if you'd like."
"That's not fucking funny, Miguel."
_
_
Miguel taglist: @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns @ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings
_
edit: the full fic xx
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hyunsvngs · 2 months
Note
🪅 anon againnnn!!!!!!!! Thinking abt reader and chan visiting reader's childhood home when chan gets so needy he begs to put 'just the tip in' while theyre in reader's old bedroom😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 but eventually he fAILED and aAAaGgHhhH
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𝐛𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 - bang chan x fem!reader
wc: 2.3k
sw: daddy kink, dirty talk, creampie, unprotected sex, bang chan’s big dick, degradation (a bit), dumbification, dom!chan, sub!reader
as soon as chan pushes the duvet off of your legs, you know where this is going. his fingers dart up the skin newly exposed to him in your sleep shorts, until he’s cupping a handful of your inner thigh and inching closer towards you. it’s not hard to be close to you - your childhood twin single is anything but spacious, yet you still jolt in surprise when his breath fans over your neck.
“you look so cute,” chan mumbles. you feel his big nose pressing into your skin and you gasp when he kisses just below your ear, nibbling your lip when he sucks your earlobe into his mouth. “will you let me play with you, baby?”
“c-chan,” you try, but you know your answer. it’s always yes. enthusiastically, actually. “my parents are in the other room, i don’t- i don’t know if i can be quiet, and-“
“i’ll just push the tip in, yeah?” he says, pulling his face away from his neck. the room is darker than usual, only your lamp providing a semblance of some light, but you can see his dark hair and how it’s forming curls after his shower. his eyes are even darker, plush lips in a teasing, almost questioning smirk. he rubs his thumb over your bottom lip. “just the tip, baby. i promise.”
“mm- mm, just the tip?” you question, but your thighs are already falling apart. your toes curl underneath the duvet, and you let him pull your shorts down with two thumbs hooked into the waistband. he groans when he sees you. you know you’re wet, you always are when you’re in bed with chan, and he can’t help but to take his hand from your face and swipe over your clit. you whimper, soft and barely audible, and chan licks his lips.
he’s just in his boxers, expensive vetements ones that always make you feel bad when you’ve gushed all over them after a dry humping session. the light coming from the lamp is a sweet orangey-pink that highlights his abs as he shuffles over and settles between your legs, and you pull your sleep shirt up to expose your tits to him.
“you know just what i like,” chan coos, eyes fixated on your chest. your breasts jiggle with every stuttery breath that comes from your lungs, and you wriggle around impatiently while he pushes his boxers down strong thighs. “my good girl. daddy’s good girl, yeah?”
“yeah! yeah, ‘m daddy’s good girl,” you nod eagerly. he chuckles, and your eyes widen when you see his cock. it’s nowhere near close to the first time you’re taking it, but chan’s big big big, thick and heavy with a pink mushroom tip that has you drooling. “r’ya gonna give it to me now, daddy? i wan’ it.”
“yeah, i’ll give it to you, baby,” he mutters, hand moving to grip his cock. he pumps it a few times, and you see a droplet of precum dribble to christen your fresh childhood bedsheets. he leans over you, cock still in one hand and his bicep tensed next to your head. he’s close like this, letting you see every freckle and mark on his face but before you can even consider kissing him he’s fucking his cockhead into you. your mouth drops into an o, a silent whine, and chan audibly laughs this time. “ah, there you go. there’s that sweet face.”
“i- you’re really hard, daddy,” you say, in lieu of saying anything else. your eyes flutter shut, and his cockhead fucks into you slowly a few times, all two or so inches. your pussy squelches audibly with every movement. chan huffs out a breath, and then you feel him slide another bit of his cock home. your eyes shoot open, blinking rapidly at his smug expression. “daddy! you said- you said just the tip!”
“i think you need more, don’t you?” he asks, eyebrow raised. his lips are curled in a teasing smile, and you try to deny it, try to shake your head and pout but he’s all too knowing. “you need daddy to play with your messy pussy, fuck it open with my cock until i’m breeding that hole. isn’t that right? tell me i’m wrong, baby.”
you whine, legs kicking around in your mini tantrum. chan catches your knee while you’re squirming, pushing it upwards until you’re forced to hold it back yourself. despite your confused expression, he pushes forward, and then his cock is filling you all the way to the base.
“i- ah, daddy?! daddy, it’s-“
“i know, i know,” he croons, leaning down to press his lips against yours. it’s a chaste kiss, almost an apology, but then he’s fucking into you so deep it has your eyes watering. he moves you around, pushes his chest to yours so your nipples rub against his hard pecs. with him this close to you, your clit rubs against his trimmed pubic hair in such a delightful way that you want to cry. “takin’ it so well, that’s my girl.”
“‘s big,” you slur, eyes rolling back into your head with every buck of his hips against yours. it is big, cock stretching your hole to the point it almost hurts - yet you love every second of it. your pussy gushes and makes its own noises of pleasure around your boyfriend’s length, and if it was any other situation he’d laugh at you. he won’t this time, though, not when you’re being his pliant little thing, wet and ready for him to tamper with.
his pace is slow, almost as if he’s using his thighs to bounce into you over and over, and your pussy flutters with it. chan grunts and moans deeply, quiet but still audible with how close he is. you huff little whimpers of your own, drooling all over your pillowcase.
“god, you’re so- this pussy’s so tiny, baby, i don’t know how you fit me in,” chan’s lips part, pants of air leaving his lungs. “messy, tiny fucking cunt. sloppy thing, you’re so perfect for me. my pretty angel and her cute little hole.”
“she likes you too,” you mumble, completely lost in the feeling of his cock inside of you. chan giggles at that, and you whimper when he adjusts you again, pushing both legs upwards to rest on his broad shoulders. he takes a quick glance at you, smiles when he sees you drooling on the pillow in a world of ecstasy, and then he’s fucking you senseless. you almost shriek, a loud gasp leaving you when his cock rams against your cervix, but chan’s hand moves to cover your mouth with godspeed.
“quiet, yeah?” he murmurs, and you nod, eyes watery. his hand stays there, though, his own puffs of air leaving him with every thrust. “good girl. feel daddy’s cock, just take it.”
it’s so easy to get lost in it. the glide of chan’s cock inside of you is hypnotizing, your pussy drenching his shaft with every movement in and out and in again and you can’t help but let out tiny whimpers. you’re embarrassed, letting your boyfriend fuck you open so easily on your childhood bed but god does it feel good. your clit throbs with it, nipples sensitive and pebbled in the air of your bedroom, and you start to fuck yourself back on him without realising. it’s delicious, and you’re getting too loud, babbling and slurring your words.
“i- chan, chan, daddy! daddy, hnng-”
“ah, shit,” he curses, exasperated, and then he’s sliding his dick out of you. you want to whine, throw a tantrum, but his calloused palms come to your hips to flip you over. your face is pressed into the pillow like this, and chan pushes your head down harder for good measure. “you have to be quiet if you want me to keep fucking you.”
“i’ll be quiet,” you try, but your words are muffled in the fabric. you imagine he’s pumping his cock judging by the quiet grunts coming from his parted lips, and the thought of his cockhead leaking in his hand has you huffing in annoyance, pushing your ass backwards to grab his attention.
it works. “oh, fuck,” chan groans, and you feel his hands go to your ass. he grabs a handful of the flesh, kneading like a cat, and you jolt when his thumb rubs over your asshole. his thumb moves downwards, rubbing over the slight gape of your pussy from his cock, but then he’s smacking your ass with his other hand just for good measure. “this ass. fuckin’ delicious, daddy’s pretty girl.”
you whine, turning your head just a tad. “daddy, my pussy. don’t look at my ass, my- my pussy, daddy, i need you!”
“yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, and he’s crowding into your space all of a sudden. his body is firm and muscular on top of yours, and he knocks your thighs apart just a tad until he’s sliding home again with a way too loud noise of approval coming from your wet hole. you push your ass back further, and in any other situation chan wouldn’t allow it but he remains stationary, letting you fuck yourself onto his fat length.
“mm, it’s- daddy, you fuck me so good,” you moan, eyes rolling back into your head. chan’s hands grip at your waist, and he goes from pulling you back onto his cock to pinning you down and making you take it. it’s quick as a flash, the way his pace changes, and you can do nothing more but drool on the pillow and slur out some praises while trying to be quiet.
“slutty pussy,” chan remarks, and you gasp, nodding in agreement. you love when he talks to you like this, and he groans, leaning forward against you more to wrap one strong arm around your neck. it pulls your head back, cutting your airflow just enough to give you that ecstatic light headed feeling. his hips slap against your ass, creating a filthy noise in your childhood bedroom that has you feeling more than just slutty, and you can’t help the gushes of arousal your pussy lets out over it. “mm, daddy’s gonna cum in this pussy. i’m gonna fill it up, yeah? d’ya want that?”
“yeah, yeah! daddy, daddy,” you babble, drool slicking down onto chan’s forearm. it makes him chuckle, the mushroom tip of his cock pressing against your g-spot with every thrust, and you try to wriggle around on your bed to find the perfect position to grind your clit onto the mattress. chan lets you reposition yourself, and when your clit hits the sheets just right you’re sure you could cry. you gush and cry on chan’s cock, your pussy fluttering and sucking him back in on every outwards thrust. he’s going insane with it, groaning and grunting in your ear.
“fuckin- shit, grind your clit, baby,” he commands, and you whine, nodding. you’re almost feral grinding your pussy against the sheets and backwards onto chan’s cock, a high pitched noise leaving your mouth. “cum for daddy. i wanna feel this cunt squeeze my cock before i fill you up, c’mon.”
“ah, ah! ah, daddy, ah- daddy, dad- i’m gonna- hnng, i need-“ you need more, harder, more of his cock ramming into your g-spot and you’ll give him anything he wants.
he knows you too well. “yeah, y-yeah, i’ll fuck you harder, baby,” he mumbles, and his arm tightens around your neck. your teeth bite into your bottom lip painfully, and his cock hits you deep once, twice, forcing your clit down onto the mattress, and then you’re babbling your way through a full body orgasm.
“ah, cum- cumming! cumming, daddy, ‘m cumming,” you wail, toes curling and breath stuttering in your throat. your clit throbs with it, pussy dripping and gushing around your daddy’s big cock, and you try to fuck yourself back on it a little more. it’s like chan’s reading your mind, because he starts to fuck into you a little faster to ride it out.
“oh, baby. that’s a big one, mm?” chan coos, and you nod, breathless, still dizzy with it. he thrusts into you a few more times, hips slapping hard against your ass, and his hand goes to the small of your back to push you down further. you’re splayed on your front, pliant and sated, but your daddy still has to fill you up like he promised. “i got you. i got you, daddy’s gonna cum, baby.”
his hips slow down, like they normally do when he’s close, and you feel his shaft throb and twitch inside of you. he gasps, thrusts stalling completely, and then you feel his cum filling you up, thick and white and flooding your cervix until you feel like there’s no way there’s any left. you sigh through it all, tears biting at your eyes by the time he’s done, rocking your hips back to help him ride his own orgasm out.
“take it, take all of my cum. there we go, good girl,” he’s talking to try and soothe you, hand rubbing down your tired legs as he pulls his soft cock out. you want to move, to turn to kiss him, but chan’s already using his discarded shirt to clean you up between your legs. he’s soft and gentle on your abused pussy, and your daddy’s so sweet that he pulls your sleep shorts back up for you.
“i wan’ cuddle,” you murmur, still on your front. you’re not sure you can move, but chan chuckles, sidling up to you and pulling you to rest against his chest.
“you can cuddle,” he confirms, lips pressing a kiss against your hairline. “ya did so good for me, y’know? my good girl, daddy’s girl.”
you hum, feeling blissful and sweet. he knows exactly what you need afterwards, stroking his fingers up your clothed back. “i love you.”
“i love you too, baby.”
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rafeysdoll · 18 days
Note
babydaddy!rafe with crybaby!reader pls !! shes all over the place w her emotions but her baby daddy js makes her horny :(
ughhhh something about baby daddy rafe literally awakens this very aching uncontrollable desire in me it’s literally insane oh my god like anon u ate with this. really hope u like it !!
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although you sort of always had a high sexual drive with rafe, when you reached your second trimester is when you really would call it out of control. constantly crying on rafe’s lap about how you really couldn’t help it— couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling of wanting to be full almost always.
often waking him up in the middle of the night or trailing close behind him at tannyhill, sometimes even calling him home early from his errands to express your desire of needing to be made love to.
and of course he’d follow through, saying he’ll do his best to fulfill his role in whatever you needed in your pregnancy, vowing to keep his baby mama fucked and fed if it’s what she desired.
“just.. just need it so bad!!” you plead, sniffling on his shoulder as he carries you upstairs. “shhh, shh,” he coos, kissing your tear stained cheek.
“gonna give it to you real nice, don’t gotta worry ‘bout anything.” he prompts, pausing to look at your belly that peeked out of your shirt before turning back to you. “ill take good care of you. alright?” he’d promise before delivering a real good dicking down in your shared bedroom.
granted, he couldn’t and wouldn’t be as rough as before, where he’d simply fold you into whatever position he’d deemed best. now, he’d adapt to letting you sit on him as he thrusts up into you, watching your swollen breasts bounce. twisted face always moaning at the perfect stretch, sweet pussy squeezing the life out of him.
he’d place his hands on your hips, moving one closer to your lower stomach, where he could see his tip— thumb feeling the intrusion.
but! even with good poundings like these, you’d still come crawling back up to him within a few more hours.
crying and pleading that you just need ‘one more release.’
rafe really was tightly wounded to you, not ever wanting to deny you — but really he couldn’t. “baby, fuck. know i gotta go to barry’s, don’t you?” he’d try to make you empathize, kissing your pouty lips.
he’d never fully understand but he tried, even researching late at night to see if it was ‘normal’ for a libido this high in pregnancy.
“i do, but daddy..” you’d push on, tugging at his arm. “listen, i’ll be as quick as possible, okay? gonna take about an hour. you can hold on, can’t you?”
“mm.. no,” you’d mewl, holding back from stomping your fluffy slipper clad feet on the ground. “uh.. i think you can, baby. you have to.” he’d gently say, kissing your temple.
before another whine rips out from your lips, he’d stroke your face, sighing. “c’mon baby, you can wait for me. for daddy?” he’d push in.
“b-but..” protest dying down on your lip. “mhm.. that’s good. i’ll be right back, alright?” he smiles.
of course, you do try your hardest. staying put and trying to distract yourself.. but inevitably, the whole trip to barry’s ends with his phone blowing up with photos of your aching cunt, videos of your fingers rubbing on your bud or shoved inside your tight hole. even voice messages of your whimpering and squealing.
but he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset.
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jamminvroomvroom · 3 months
Note
Now hear me out… Lando with a daddy kink. I rest my case (and send in my request).
heart to heart.
ln x fem!reader
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in which you’re heartbroken and lando knows exactly what you’ve always wanted.
oh, anon. how i love you. ngl haven’t written this trope much before so this was a baby-steps attempt… but it’s intense smut lmao. keep sending in requests guys, i’m getting through them (slowly)!! anyways enjoy, love you, tell me what you think <3
songs to set the mood: heart to heart by mac demarco
warnings: 18+ minors DNI!! smut, language, daddy kink (help), breeding kink (lord forgive me), friends to lovers (implied), mentions of cheating (not reader or lando), dom!lando, sub!reader
1.4k words
you’ve been friends for years.
sometimes it felt like the door was open for more, only to be quickly slammed shut when a cute barista handed you his number, or when lando slid into a bikini models dm’s. bottom line: it never ended up crossing that line and becoming more.
you’re crying on his couch when the line finally blurs.
“i just- i just thought…” you choke out a sob that cuts you off.
“what, honey?” lando coos, brushing some damp hairs away from your streaming eyes.
“i thought i’d marry him. how stupid is that?” you whimper. this is the worst breakup you’d gone through to date, and just like when anything goes wrong, lando is there with a spare shoulder for you to cry on. he always knew that your ex was a piece of shit but his warnings fell on deaf ears. “we talked about kids and houses. he asked me my fucking ring size.” you spat. all of this happened, of course, before you found out he’d been cheating on you with his boss’s assistant.
“you’re not stupid, honey.” lando pulls you in closer to his side.
you stay there for a while, letting the tears fall until there are no more left to cry and your face is drying up. your head rests on his shoulder, and when you turn it to look up at him, he’s already looking down at you.
pink lips are parted, slicked with a swipe of his tongue. two blue eyes turned to an icy grey dart between your own lustful pair and your lips, parted only to expel shallow, shaky breaths.
“kids and a nice big lawn, is that what you want?” he whispers. you shift against the couch, trying to hide the shiver the low gravelly tone of his voice shoots down your spine.
“mhm.” you nod slightly, sinking into his side and his eyes.
time speeds up for a moment; the hand he has wrapped around you finds your waist, and somehow he manoeuvres you onto his lap. it feels odd. odd, because it’s right. it’s new and yet it feels… familiar.
“why’d you waste all that time with those assholes, hm?” his voice is mocking, and your knees squeeze around his hips. “could’ve given you all that years ago. fucked a baby into you and put a nice, shiny ring on this finger.” lando pulls your ring finger between his lips, holding eye contact as he swirls his tongue around the digit. you tremble against him, his filthy words almost sending you slack against him.
“didn’t know you wanted me.” you pant.
“i’m gonna do things to you that will make sure that you never doubt me again.”
and he does.
you’re crying on his mattress, overstimulated, yet desperate for more. these are the only kind of tears he ever wants you to cry. he’s been between your legs for what feels like so long that hours could have passed and you wouldn’t question a thing. his tongue works over and over your throbbing clit and your hands rake through tangled curls.
“lando, please.” you chant, over and over again. you don’t know what you’re asking him for, but he seems to get it, because he doesn’t stop.
two fingers find your entrance, sodden with the remnants of more orgasms than you can count. in slides one, twisting deliciously before it’s joined by the second. you ascend, pretty much instantly, so overwhelmed by how good he’s managed to make you feel. your orgasm builds too quickly, and you’re dripping down his wrist before you can even tell him you’re close.
lando chuckles, tongue tracing the mess you’ve left as he shuffles on his knees between your legs. then, he’s hovering over you, balancing on one of his forearms whilst his other hand traces the curve of your body.
“having fun, honey?” he bumps his nose against yours, lips meeting yours a brief second later. it feels as good and as right the first time he kissed you earlier, and he licks into your mouth, deep and sensual. you moan into the kiss when you taste yourself on his tongue.
you can feel his cock brushing against your folds and you melt into the mattress, keening at his the feeling of him everywhere. your shaky hands skim his torso, feeling every dip and ridge under your fingertips. golden skin tenses, rippling flesh taut against your palms. your hips buck into his.
“tell me what you want, honey. need to hear you say it.”
“fuck me.” you mutter, rolling your hips once more. the angle you create means that his cock catches your folds and you can’t help but whine his name.
“how?” lando smirks, your chin trapped between his fingers. he makes you look at him, and you curse yourself for not doing this sooner.
“what you said earlier…” you choke out, trailing off.
“what did i say earlier?” he tease. you groan in frustration.
“please, lando.” you’re too hot, blush stains your cheeks and your neck.
“is my sweet girl getting shy?” he pecks your lips, kisses down your neck. when he reaches your ear, he tugs on the lobe. all you can feel is sharp teeth and warm breath. everything is slick.
“it’s okay, honey.” lando continues. “i remember. remember those wide eyes and pouty lips when i told you what i can give you. gonna make me a daddy, baby? finally gonna be mine?” he whispers, right into your ear. all you see is white.
finally.
“daddy.” you pant, when he finally slides into you, hard and deep.
“that’s it, baby.” lando grunts, hooking your thigh over his hip. you can feel the way his fingers dig in to your flesh, stopping him from falling apart instantly. his other hand takes your wrists, pushes them up the mattress until they’re pinned right above your head and he’s hovering over you, perfectly level. chest to chest, heart to heart.
shallow thrusts aid the deep grind of his hips, rolling slowly into yours. he’s everywhere, nothing separating your needy, flushed bodies. he never pulls all the way out, stays buried as deep as he can, and repeatedly hits that spot inside of you that allows you to see every star in the sky. you’re breathless, soundless, utterly helpless as you drown in him and everything he has to offer you.
you wonder if he’ll actually spill into you, mark you as his. it makes you dizzy, makes you shake, the idea of nothing stopping him from making such a mess between your spread legs. you want to beg for it but you can’t, the raging, wet pleasure in the pit of your belly rendering you speechless. all you manage is a dry plea of half of his name.
“lan-“ you begin, but he kisses the rest of the word out of his mouth.
“no, honey, that’s not my name.” he rasps, talks down to you in a way that pushes you even closer to sweet release.
“daddy. want you to be daddy.” you slur.
the reaction you get from him is worth every heartache you’ve ever suffered. his rhythm changes and now he’s slamming into you, and the sensation makes you cry some more, thick tears sliding down your neck which he tastes, licks away.
but then everything is soaking. you gush around him and his abs glisten. your throat burns from the scream, and then there’s silence, just for a moment.
“fucking hell.” he shudders, transfixed on the thin layer of you that seems to be everywhere.
he’s wrapped around you tight when he lets go, muttering unintelligible filth in your ear as he does. you stay intertwined for a moment, trying to piece together what you’d just done.
when lando eventually rolls off of you, he takes every inch of you in, a beautiful canvas covered in a memory. his eyes are warm again, soft. whatever had possessed him is long gone and he’s just lando again. your lando.
you attempt to wriggle across the mattress, seeking refuge in your forgotten pile of clothes on the floor. he stops you in your feeble attempts to peel your lifeless body off of his bed.
“hey, it’s okay, honey. let me look after you.” he coos, gentle sitting you up. “you okay?”
“thank you.” you whisper. your lips meet, fleetingly, delicate.
“‘m gonna take care of you, baby.” he promises. you believe him.
-
i don’t know what came over me lmao whoops
-
taglist
@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane
removed any tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed <3
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moechies · 4 months
Text
tw dark content naive reader, manipulation, coercion, humiliation, sl*t shaming suggestive but no smut 🍧
anon says..! thinking abt being megumi's childhood friend and gojo manipulating you when you grow up and start dating boys be he's so jealous and can't stand not being your first time, he has been taking care of you since you were a little girl, so he has the right to do whatever he wants!
(bold is my alteration from og ask!)
"n-no.! daddy please..! hn- please don't go.. m-m sorry.!"
beads of tears bubbled around your lash line, face flushed and red from the shed tears.
"why? i don't wanna be around dirty fuckin’ girls like you. ‘s fuckin gross, you know? look at you. i didn't raise you to become a stupid slut.”
his hands grab at your wrists, harshly yanking them off his thigh where you kept them to prevent him from leaving your room. he tidies himself, seemingly wiping the area where you kept your hands on him, and you feel your heart break. were you really just going to let him walk away like this?
"wait..! m-m sorry please daddy.. please.. i’ll do anything jus- i’ll stop talking to b-boys! i will..! i- y-you can take my phone, n-n, anything else you want..!"
he stops in his steps, turning himself back to you. a small smirk crawls upon his face and you really do feel your heart flutter a little.
"really? you'd do anything?"
"y-yes.! please just.. don't go.. please daddy..”
maybe it was the mixture of your sweet begs and sweet cries of ‘daddy, i’ll do anything,’ or possibly because he was so fucking hard, but he found himself making his way back to your bed.
"show me. show me you're not wet from texting those stupid dirty boys," he spits, planting both his arms next to your body, caging you in.
you face directly towards him, pulling up your skirt that he had dressed you in,
"I-look..! m not wet.. ‘m not dirty daddy! p-please, believe me!"
"let me see,"
he slithers his thick thumb under the fabric, sliding his finger down your slit. he allows the tip of his thumb to prod at your soft cunt, making you yelp quietly. you knew he was still angry, and you didn’t want to anger the man with your noisy antics!
his sneaks his middle finger across the crotch of your panties, curling his finger before pulling the pantie to the side. he reveals your plushy cunt to the chilly air, making you shiver out a short cry.
"are you still a virgin?"
"o-of course, daddy.. k-know you wouldn't like it if i wasn't..”
"good. but we're gonna change that today, okay?"
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sweets4dolls · 3 months
Note
Val would definitely make bunny call him daddy and Vox, sir🫣
🍒anon
𝒷𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝒾𝓈𝑒𝓈
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pairings: valentino + bunny!fem!reader, vox + bunny!fem!reader
content warnings: smut, daddy kink, sir kink, lil bit of cockwarming, an ass is slapped, allusion to spanking, not proofread as usual
notes: writing for bunny is my new obsession ✧.*
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: ̗̀➛ val
"you gonna let daddy fuck you? gonna let daddy fuck you til you can't think straight?" he says as his claws sink into your flesh, covering you in minuscule cuts as your soft body shakes how good you feel, knowing just how to angle himself to hit your sweet spots as he drags your hips down to dig himself further inside you than should be possible.
"please, n-need you daddy" you whimper out, sleek hands clinging to him weakly as he hits it, your words making him chuckle.
"aw, my precious baby bunny who blushes whenever she walks in when I'm filming a porno, now begging for her daddy," he cruelly laughs as you toss your head away from him, making him reach out and grab your face in his large hand, pinching at it slightly, smushing the baby fat of your cheeks.
"didn't say you could look away baby" he says, almost spitting it out, making your pretty body squirm on the silk sheets he had bought just for you, now covered in tears and fluids.
"daddy" you whine again, grasping at him as your thighs tremble uncontrollably as you let out a ramble of pathetic pleas nonsensically.
"gonna fuck you until that's the only thing you can say, conejito"
: ̗̀➛ vox
of course vox needed you on his cock when he was working, so when he's on an important phone call and you just don't stop squirming, teasing him, but not on purpose of course, you just wanna get comfortable :(
"yeah, yeah, okay bye," he says into the phone, hanging up as quickly as his claws will let him before giving you a stinging slap on the ass.
"bad bun, you shouldn't have done that" he chides you, just about ready to pound you out in his desk chair.
"m' sorry sir!" you cried, eyes all big and apologetic "was just trying to get comfy" you finish just as his hips thrust up into your cunt, making you gasp and grip onto him, as he grabs your hips harshly and bouncing you up and down
"show me how much youre sorry then" he said, sitting back making you ride him until your thighs get sore as the perfect apology, all while he leans in and sucks and bites your neck, tracing over his marks his tongue as you grinded yourself deeper onto his cock.
"your lucky I don't just bend you over and spank your ass red instead"
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b0nten · 4 months
Text
HOW ARE BABIES MADE?
[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷。 ran, rindou, sanzu, takeomi, kakucho, mikey and izana being asked by their children how babies are made.
[NOTES] ˚⁀➷。 reader is implied to be fem, reader is called “mother”, “mommy” etc. this was so fun to write!!! thank you anon for requesting <3 also, i used tenjiku&bonten characters but everything’s taking place in the final timeline.
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RAN is definitely the type to try to explain the entire thing, without any second thoughts whatsoever. He’d definitely hear the question, and open his mouth but before gets to say ‘sex’ he feels a book flat against his head. “what do you think you’re doing?” you whisper-yell from the kitchen, curry udon long forgotten on the stove. “explaining to your daughter how she spawned into the world?” he answers, dodging another decor item that you aimed toward him. upon asking, dramatically and over-exaggeratedly of course, so offended because he just doesn’t know what he was doing wrong, you just stare at him. “we agreed to tell her when she’s 14. she doesn’t even know boys have dicks and you want to explain the entirety of sex and how it goes to her? do you even know how it works?” he sighs, defeated, “let’s go eat, sweetheart, i think i made mommy a lil mad.” he says, picking up his daughter, “that last part was uncalled for, by the way.” “suck it up, mr. club owner. ”
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meanwhile, RINDOU simply freezes: “daddy, how are babies made?” what? excuse him? oh my lord, he did not expect this to happen this early. why the hell is his five year old son asking him about coital activity, right when you’re not around? fuck him (himself), fuck this situation, fuck you for not being around right now (both figuratively and literally). “you see! when… uhm.. when two people love each other and they kiss, they make a baby!” he mentally face-palms for what the fuck he just said. “so you can’t kiss girls until you’re twenty-one, yeah?” finally, thankfully, his phone rings, and thank the heavens it’s you. “oh my god, y/n—” “rindou, what did i just hear on the baby cam?” “haha, my love! funny story!!!!”
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SANZU just goes feral. he’s having a fucking anxiety attack or whatever so he just texts you while your daughter asks her daddy about how babies are made.
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TAKEOMI plays it safe, using the infamous stork. “and it just comes flying?” “yeah, it carries a little basket with its beak and gives it to us!” he smiles, playing into his baby girl’s fantasy. “you sound just like my parents.” you smile and his gaze averts to yours, from his seat on the living room carpet. “well, your own stories inspired me, because, to be honest, i was about to shit myself.” “daddy!” the little one yells, stretching out her palm, “1000 yen!” and her father exasperates “god put me out of this misery of only being an atm, you’re just like your mother. ow! what’d i deserve that punch for?”
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KAKUCHO handles it like a pro. “papa.” one of his little girls walks up to him, younger twin following her right behind. “yes, pretty girl?” he straightens his back and crouches down, still sitting on the couch. “how are babies made, papa?” the shyer one asks and his face drops for a split second. “i promise to tell you when you’re older, right now it’s classified information!” he jokes, and the girls giggle. “now… who wants to watch doraemon!!” he does the jazz hands and the twins jump into his lap. not long after, you sit down next to them. “if i didn’t know any better, i would have said you rehearsed those lines from the moment you were born.” you laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. he wraps an arm around you, chuckling, and kisses the crown of your head.
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if there’s someone (who thinks they’re) escaping this question, it’s MIKEY. “ ‘tou-chan, how are babies made?” blond locks spin toward him, and the big eyes of his daughter look him up and down. “ ‘tou-chan?” she says again, a bit annoyed. mikey sacrifices the motorbike races he’s watching and looks back at her. “ask ‘kaa-chan, i’m not really good at biology.” he smiles when she jumps from her place and runs into your bedroom, where you’re blow-drying your hair. confident that he’s just dodged a bullet, manjiro returns to his priority — the tv. moments later you storm in, hair half wet, still in your bath robe with the kid in your arms, visibly furious. he knows he’s dodged a bullet but is about to get hit by a cannon.
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IZANA is at the dining table doing some paper-work for tenjiku and you’re watching tv when your oldest marches into the kitchen, determined. “daddy.” the blond looks up, eyeing back at the spitting image of himself. “yes?” he answers, and you also look back to see what’s going on. slamming a big book on the table, the toddler points to the cover “how are babies made?” you burst out laughing and your husband snatches the book away, making you laugh hysterically. “where’d you find this?!” he questions, and his forehead is already soaked with sweat and he wants to bury himself into the ground. “your office.” he can’t believe his five year old son walked in there and just so happened to find this book: effective positions for baby-making. his cheeks redden and he scans the room to find you and request your help, but he’s greeted with the sight of you rolling around on the living room floor, trying to calm your laughter down. yay.
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kooeater · 6 months
Note
Hi babes!! can you do a short fic about older/dilf!jk x reader with daddy issues? smutty and cute pleaseee <3
guys who are older | JJK
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Jungkook x f.reader
smut | fluff | tiny bit of angst?
warnings: age gap, older!jk. daddy issues?, unproteced sex, counter sex, dom/sub dynamics, slight choking, afteracare, some cutesy stuff c:
(Is this short? I think so... I'm not sure omg I tried my best anon!! Hope you enjoy!)
Jeon Jungkook, 38-year-old divorced hot dad moved next door to you and fucking hell did he make you go insane. Let's just say, you gotten to know him very well.
Fucking Jungkook was the best part of your day, you two can't go a day without having sex. You made it very clear to him that he can talk to you about anything, it doesn't always have to be about sex! Although, the age gap was certainly something you always swore to him you can understand like an adult.
You're a 21-year-old college student, and he's 38, divorced, and has 2 kids, did you care? No, not at all. You were going to fuck him regardless.
-
"You're such a good girl for me." a beautiful moan coming from his mouth, his large member thrusting in and out of your tight hole, tattooed hands clamped around your throat.
All you did was knock on his door for some sugar, in the smallest skirt you know he loves.
Now, you're on his kitchen counter, legs spread opened, panties to the side like a whore for his cock to ram into your cunt. Whimpers coming from your mouth as his cock kept hitting the same spot in you over and over again. He knows how's to fuck way too well.
"Jungkook please, cum in me!" you let out a high-pitched moan as you felt his cock hit your g spot repeatedly. You then do a little yelp as his hand comes off your throat and up to your boobs, grasping them like stress balls.
"Fuck, you're going to be the death of me. I can be in this tight pussy all fucking day." his words send you over the edge, you can feel your orgasm coming close. a couple of rubs to your clit and you're releasing sweet cream all over his member just how he likes it.
-
Sex was great of course; the aftercare was just as good. He lets you know that he cares after fucking you into next week. He would make sure you had a nice spot to nap knowing you're such a sleepy head after sex, he made sure there was snacks for you to munch on.
His praise was everything to you. He knew you didn't have a father figure emotionally there for you while you were growing up, he caught onto your daddy issues really quick. Every time you brought up your grades, good or bad ones he'll always say how he's proud of you.
"Darling don't be sad, an 88% is fine. You studied hard and you did your work, you just need to understand it better. Look, your professor even left a note saying how lovely your handwriting is!" he pointed to the little sticky note, trying to cheer you up as you were letting out tears for not getting the perfect grade back.
"Well yeah I mean, I tried my best to make it look nice." sadness tinted in your voice as you leaned into his chest feeling nothing but warmth and comfort from him.
"I'm so proud of you baby, you're okay." his soft yet simple words are enough to make you break down. He picks up your body and sits down on his living room couch, your hands wrapped around his neck as his arms wrap around your waist.
Times like that were the best, knowing that you can have that comforting connecting with him, knowing that he wasn't just going to walk out on you. He was the older man you always needed in your life, and you're not going to let him go.
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this was done pretty fastly lmao sorry if it's boring? Idk I'm not used to writing this way but I wanted to try it out! Like and follow if you feel like it, thanks for readinggggg ~~~ 🤍
- belle 🎀
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angelltheninth · 6 months
Note
Would you ever expand on Sukuna as a pornstar? Sorry I can't stop thinking about it after you mentioned in in you Yuuji fic.
Me too Anon, me too. I'm happy to write more about this au.
Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, porn work, filmed, mutual masturbation, power play, marking, possessive sex
A/N: If you ever want to ask me questions about my fics/headcanons feel free to send them in my inbox, I'm always happy to talk to you guys.
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Pornstar!Sukuna only does the really kinky movies, or the ones where he can be really rough. That's his style, that's what everyone wants to see him in, it's what he likes as well. He's been offered other roles before but has turned most of them down, it's not that he couldn't do it but he wants to be proud of what he films.
Pornstar!Sukuna has no problem telling people what he does for a living as he sees no shame in it. If someone tries to make fun of him for it he'll just direct them to one of his movies and dare them to make a woman come harder then he did.
Pornstar!Sukuna never wants you to fake your orgasm for the sake of the camera. Rest assured that with him you'll never need to either, he will make you come multiple times or else he didn't do his job properly. You better not try to fake it with him, if you do he'll switch things up and give you a real one, so hard, so good that you will actually pass out.
Pornstar!Sukuna wants you to keep your attention on him while you're doing a scene with him. Don't look at the camera, at anyone else, only at him. He's the one fucking you, his cock is inside of you, pounding hard at your insides and making your pussy feel better then any other co-star. So look at him, he wants to see the exact moment you come on his cock.
Pornstar!Sukuna loves leaving mark on you, ones that can't be covered up that easily. That way if you shoot a porno with someone else they'll know you've been with him before, they'll know they won't measure up and that the one you're thinking of the whole time is him.
Pornstar!Sukuna acted in a lot of roles that have him in the position of power. When he has roles like that he asks for you to be his co-star because according to him you follow his orders so naturally, it's just easier with you. The lines come out so easily for you both, him telling you what to do, you begging for more, calling him sir, boss, daddy, anything he wants.
Pornstar!Sukuna only masturbates to the movies you're in with him. It's how he gets ready for the next scene, the next role. Or the better alternative, having you there to masturbate with him. In secret of course cause the two of you are trying to keep things professional but when you spend so much time on screen together, fucking as much as you do, with that much chemistry it bleed over to your everyday life as well.
Pornstar!Sukuna fucks your brains out if you had a scene with someone else. He doesn't care who it was, if he was in the movie too or not but he won't just let someone fuck you when he didn't get to. No jealousy doesn't suit him well in his line of work, he is very aware of that but he can't help himself, he wants to make you come over and over, for every orgasm you've had with someone else he gives you a better one.
Pornstar!Sukuna shows off in front of the camera, not for anyone but himself. He can see everyone watching him fuck, almost mesmerizes by him, it feeds his already inflated ego like nothing else in the world. When he pulls out and his cock is still hard he's reeling to move onto the next scene, eager to show how much stamina he has.
Pornstar!Sukuna always brings the best refreshments to perk you up after filming is over. You eat them in his changing room where you can wind down and even cuddle with him if you want. But don't tell anyone, you know the kind of reputation he as around here, he has to keep it. But that doesn't mean he won't spoil his favorite co-star.
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b1mbodoll · 8 months
Text
pairings: lee jeno x f! reader
warnings: noncon to dubcon + breeding + babytrapping + creampies + manipulation + mommy kink + daddy kink
💌: this was inspired by an anon asking for gym trainer! jeno + breeding but i decided to do my own lil spin on it >< hope u guys enjoy
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you start to panic when jeno’s balls deep in your cunt, having made you cum twice already he’s working on chasing his release, wanting nothing more than to make you take his thick load. and that’s what you’re afraid of. you know your boyfriend dreams about starting a little family with you but you didn’t know just how far he’d go to make it happen, and now that he’s fucking you raw you wish you’d stopped his fantasies earlier. you’ve been begging him to pull out but it’s like he doesn’t even register that you’re a human being right now, uses you like a fucking fleshlight and kisses you sloppily in an attempt to shut you up.
his thrusts becomes sloppy and uncoordinated making you cry because you know he’s close. “shut the fuck up, god, can’t you just do this for me?” he sounds so annoyed and it makes you whimper, “you’ll be such a good mommy, i know it. gonna fuckin’ — shit — gonna knock you up.” you can’t do anything but take it, creaming ‘round his dick again as he empties his balls, forcing his length as far as he can. “can you feel that, baby? feel my cum flooding your fuckin’ womb?” you’re ashamed that you enjoy the feeling of him using you for his pleasure n his words make you melt. “yes daddy.” you moan, “swear i can feel it in my throat.” his cock twitches at that and you know he’s far from done, clenching around him because you want him to breed you til he’s satisfied.
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ghosts-cyphera · 7 months
Note
Well, u know. About the size kink, maybeeee during that moment, Simon suddenly thinking y/n like a living flashlight. Oppps. I should shower with the holy water. Btw, how about a fic of size kink with daddy John????
#WhereIShouldBuyHolyWater? #Damn
I was in Rome recently and actually did bring back a few small bottles of holy water. let me know if you need any. but then again, looking at this... I might need 'em all myself, lmao. thank you for the sudden inspo, sweet anon! 💌 also: john price, or john "soap" mactavish? never written either character, but I'm so down to giving them a go for you!
content/warnings: simon 'ghost' riley x afab!reader, objectification, penetrative sex, size kink. no use of pronouns for the reader. words: 365. 18+; minors do not interact!
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"Shh, sweetheart," Ghost murmured against your lips, as his fingers tightened their grip around your thighs. You were light as a fuckin' feather in his arms: so easy for him to pick up and slide back down on his throbbing cock. "Good little toys don't make sounds when they get used, do they?"
You shook your head, your twinkling eyes glued on him.
"That's right, darlin'," he chuckled against your cheek, lips pressing lazy kisses on your skin, fingers digging into your flesh. "My little fuckin' darlin's the perfect little thing for me, yeah? Pussy fuckin' dripping when I use you like this, baby—"
Your arousal was coating every last inch of him, dripping down his shaft and onto his balls as he picked you up once more, only to slide you back down. Every inch of him stretching open your soft warmth, as he ground into you.
Too big, he knew.
Yet to make him proud, as usual, not a single whine passed your pretty lips. His thumb brushed against your bottom one, and he chuckled as you drew it inside your mouth: tongue twirling around the tip, cheeks sucking on it in your desperation to muffle your moans.
All to make him proud, yeah?
"Fuckin' hell, sweetheart. Gettin' me so bloody close like tha'—"
You truly were nothing but the perfect little toy for him to use. His little fleshlight, his little pocket pussy to fuck whenever he needed it. From the thought, Ghost could feel himself twitching inside you: just as he could see it on your features as your brows knitted from the sudden stretch.
"Tryin' so fuckin' hard for me, eh?" His laugh was a deep rumble as he picked up the pace of fucking into you. "Such a good little thing. So well fuckin' trained to take my cock. Every fuckin' inch, yeah? Not too much for my darlin', is it?"
You shook your head: the twinkle in your eyes—fuckin' adorable—pushing him right on the edge of his release.
"Good fuckin' doll. Keep it up and maybe—," he cursed against your cheek, "maybe I'll just let my little fuckin' thing come around me once I've gotten this little pussy nice and full of my cum, yeah?"
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masterlist | requests are open 💌
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cyberm4n · 2 months
Note
May I request a bit of Lucifer with a plus sized reader who has a breeding kink? 💕
thank you so much for this request anon it has plagued my brain /pos as someone who's midsized and VERY gay i think the plus sized ladies need more love in fanfic. i hope you like it, im not 100% happy with the writing but lmk and ill change it up :)
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cw: smut, breeding kink (duh), mentions of daddy kink but it's not rly used, reader is described as plus sized could be midsized ig, cum eating?? it's not like DIRECTLY mentioned but it kinda happens??, reader is overstimulated cause lucifer wants to make her a mommy, not proofread well
other: im on vacation and working through some requests so please know your request has been noted! ill probably come out with some more alastor/reader/lucifer sometime in the next couple of days.
■ for starters, i firmly believe that he's the kind of guy to LOVE chubby girls
■ like he loves how soft you are
■ if you're laying in bed with him you better expect for him to be all over you
■ no matter what you wanna wear he thinks it hot. seeing you confident is his biggest turn on and he loves it when you are feeling your best.
■ put on some low rise jeans and that man is on his knees for you
■ safe to say this man is 100% your number 1 supporter and will hype you up no matter what
■ if you're taller than him, literally no issue. like have you seen the height difference between him and lilith?
■ look he's a guy who knows how to handle anyone of any shape/size/gender
■ he's been around since the beginning of humanity this guy knows how to fuck
■ we all know he's a munch
■ i feel like he'd be the kind of guy to be REALLY into thighs
■ like you'd be laying in bed and he'd start kissing down your body, his hands running over your curves
■ paying special attention to your lower belly before moving to your thighs
■ he likes going down on you but if you at all want to ride his face he's 100% in
■ i feel like if you hadn't asked he'd definitely have suggested it before
■ the kind of guy to like pull you down on his face
■ he wants you to SIT dammit
■ the breeding kink tho.
■ i feel like he'd already have a daddy kink but the breeding kink just adds to it yk
■ he thinks you look absolutely divine when his cum is leaking out of you
■ but on days he's particularly feeling the breeding kink, he 100% shoving his fingers in you after he pulls out.
■ gotta make sure you stay full
■ he can't help it he just loves you so much he wants to see you swollen with his child :(
"darling just one more for me please" he breathes out, sweat dripping down his body as he tries to coax another orgasm out of you.
he had been feeling in a bit of a mood tonight, and when you came into his office with those shorts of yours on he couldn't think about anything other than breeding you.
so here we are, laid out on his desk, and him hovering over you. your legs ache from trembling so hard, and every orgasm makes you practically blind from how long he'd been going at it. his cum leaks out of your hole, he'd been dumping load after load in you, and now he's shaking too.
he's gotta fill you up though, he'd love nothing more than you carrying his love. he feels that pit is his stomach tighten, and he gently rubs your clit. "gonna be such a good mommy," he'd coo, feeling you turn to putty in his arms.
when the time comes and he crashes over his orgasm, spilling deep in you once more, he's careful to stay locked in for a little while, but he's peppering your face with kisses.
"you did such a good job ducky" he murmurs, rubbing soft circles on your hips. until he'd pull back just a little to watch his cum leak out of you again, utterly spent.
when he finally completely pulls out its not long until his fingers make their way in you, "shh baby i know, but i gotta make sure it takes" he'd whisper to you as you squirm away from him.
he tsks a little shortly after, his fingers slowly withdrawing. he plunges thumb into your mouth, "suck" he says firmly, which you do, of course. cleaning off his fingers so good for him.
he pulls his hand back, it returns to your side, and you whine as you feel his fat tip press against your hole again, and he coos down at you, folding your legs up to your knees. "cmon missy, we can go one more time right? you can go again sweetheart" he says as he eases his cock into you again.
safe to say, he's dumping loads of his cum in you until he's shooting blanks.
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princessbrunette · 2 months
Note
just thinkin about pope n innocent!reader,,, and her calling him daddy while he has her on her lap stuffing her w his fingers :( just thinking…
also, could i please be 📝 anon? :) i loovee ur writing
✧˖°.🩰✧˖°.
pope liked to reward good behaviour. he found positive reinforcement worked well with you, and was happy to use that to his advantage as it kept the two of you content.
if you were to make a good suggestion to the pogues, you were rewarded with something small and quiet as acknowledgement to your deed, like a kiss on the temple or a reassuring smile and nod. if you were to go out of your way to do something kind or helpful, like bringing him food when he’d forgotten to eat — or sewing up his shirt that got ripped on a pogue mission, you’d be rewarded with copious praise and affection, calling you his ‘good girl’ which seemed to be your favourite, melting like putty in his hands each and every time.
now these were things he did naturally, for nothing in return, purely because he wanted to. but it didn’t go unnoticed that the sweeter he was on his girl, the softer and more vulnerable you’d become — stripping you down to your most true self. he wanted you, wanted all of you— so he’d keep going, keep praising to work you out. you were popes favourite thing to study.
when you’d been consistently well behaved through the entire day, even when odds were against you — he’d often help you unwind with your favourite type of reward, having you on his lap with his long skilful fingers deep inside.
“i know, i know. how’s it feel when it rub you like this, hm? can you talk to me?” he used his softest tone on you, not the voice he uses to sark at jj or argue against john b’s outrageous plans. he was his softest, most relaxed with you — and he loved that you brought that out of him.
“i—i like it, m’gonna cum soon.” you wail but it’s muffled into the smooth skin of his shoulder muscle, the plane that had been bearing all of your pleased tears and sounds.
“thats good, bambie. gonna keep rubbing that pretty clit just like this okay?” he lilts his voice gently, tilting his head when you don’t respond, too focused on breathing out heavy breaths against him. he noses at your cheek, craning down to try and get your eyes on him. “okay?” he repeats and you screw your eyes shut, nodding.
“‘kay, daddy.” you release with a held breath. he’s kind of glad your eyes were shut, because it catches him off guard for a second, blinking down at you as he continues to work his fingers inside you, thumb resting over your button.
daddy.
he couldn’t say he was surprised that you were into that kind of thing, infact — jj had in a way predicted it in once when the two of them were out on the boat fishing. something along the lines of “nah dude she’s real sweet. i see why you like ‘er. got the whole innocent, ‘daddy please fuck me’ thing goin’ on, ‘ya know?” now at the time, pope had been too preoccupied with scolding jj over being vulgar about his girl to entertain the conversation, but now it was coming back to him and he realised he was right.
it definitely made sense. bad relationship with your own father which had wound you up in his arms— someone calm, nurturing, enforces gentle rules and guidance, teaches you new stuff. even away at college before he met you he was a magnet to a certain demographic of girl, one who needed a gentle demeanour and occasional firm hand.
he wracks his brain for what to say as he drops a long kiss to your forehead, blinking rapidly as thoughts fire off. he wants to please you, wants to be that for you— and for once he hadn’t done his ample research beforehand to really support you through it. he decides on something simple, trying it out.
“daddies right here, let it go for me, pretty girl.” he’s more of a natural than he realised, and as if he flipped some sort of switch— you gasp, clutching onto him hard as he feels you gush around his fingers in a water-fall like consistency.
you slur a bunch of nonsense against his skin as he shushes you kindly, ears pricking up and heat rising to his face and cock each time the word ‘daddy’ comes out muffled against his shoulder. if daddy was what you needed, daddy was what you’d get. he better get studying.
✧˖°.🩰✧˖°.
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monzabee · 1 year
Text
two sides of the same coin - mv1
masterlist
Summary: The one where you try to convince yourself that you’re not falling for your teammate, but can’t help it when you realise that he is not that different from you after all.
Pairing: max verstappen x reader
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: cursing, mommy issues (same), daddy issues, ISSUES OKAY, ISSUES, EVERYBODY HAS ISSUES, J*s Verstappen (yikes), allusions to eating disorders, a singular mention of divorce babe divorce, angst (why am i writing so much angst), daniel ricciardo being the best older grid-brother there is, slight frenemies to lovers if your squint, i don’t really like horner but he’s like the only father figure max ever had so he’s a good guy in this one. 
Request: “teammates to lovers with max please!❣️”
Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i did NOT expect to get this out today, but there you go! it was so much fun to write and honestly, i might slowly becoming a max girl (sorry carlos). anyway, please check the warning tags if you haven’t already, because there might be some possibly triggering content. thank you, anon, for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 
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2018 
“Do you have to leave?” You ask the Australian in front of you who, coincidentally, is kneeled on the floor and in the middle of packing his bag. “Can’t you just… I don’t know, stay?”
“Come on, cheer up.” He says, “You’re supposed to be happy that I’m changing teams, Y/N.”
You scoff, dropping yourself to lay down and bending your knees to rest your feet on the couch. “I don’t have to be happy about anything.” You throw the tennis ball in your hand towards the wall, catching it and doing it all over again in a pattern in which you know is going to make Daniel mad. 
“Any other potential driver would be happy about this, Horner already told you the seat would be yours. So, there is no reason why you shouldn’t feel happy about this.” 
“Well, I still don’t.” You huff, turning your head towards the man jokingly glaring at you. 
He laughs, gives you a look and returns to his task while shaking his head slightly. “You’re a very weird girl, Y/N.” 
“Wow, Daniel. That’s brand-new information.” A third voice interrupts your discussion from the door. It’s Max leaning against the frame with his arms crossed across his chest. You halt the movement of your hands to send him a scathing look. 
You roll your eyes, mumbling something along the lines of  “No one asked you,” under your breath. 
“Play nice, Max Emilian.” Daniel mumbles, making the Dutch groan and you laugh. “Fuck, how did I pack this in the first place?” 
“You wouldn’t have this issue if you didn’t get too comfortable in your driver’s room, Danny.” You offer, raising yourself on your elbows to get a better look at the already bursting luggage. “You still have a ton of stuff at the hotel, too.” 
“Maybe you should just stop living like a slob.” Max offers this time, making both you and Daniel to glare at him. “Jesus, tough room.”
“You should become a comedian,” you tell him with a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Max Emilian.” 
He straightens his posture quickly, “You know what, Y/N–”
“Calm down, children.” Daniel sighs and  giving you both the look. “You two need to get along now that I’m not going to be there to stop some kind of childish feud–”
“It’s not childish–” You argue at the same time Max complains, “She pushed me off the track!”
You furiously get up from your place on the couch and walk towards him with an accusatory finger extended towards him. “It wasn’t me, you dickhead, it was Charles! And it was an accident!” 
“I don’t care,” He contends, “You were helping him push me off the track.” He shakes his head while mumbling, “Incident, inchident, as if I’m stupid.”
“Why would I help him when I was racing against both of you, Max?” 
“I don’t know,” He shrugs, a devilish smirk on his lips. “Maybe you had a crush on him.” 
“I- I did not!” Your shout is high pitched, you gasp and start to follow him with enraged steps when he walks out of the room. “You get back right here, Max, you insufferable twat!” 
Daniel is left with an empty room and a luggage which is about to explode. “They’ll be fine,” he announces, mostly to himself but also at the poor intern who watches the corridor you’re both walking down in while continue your very loud fight. “Do you think you can get me another luggage?” 
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2019
It’s not like you hate Max, you don’t hate him at all. In fact, he’s gone out of his way to make you feel comfortable from your change in role from a reserve driver to the second driver at Red Bull. Looking back, you can now say that everything happened so quickly. One day, you were the reserve driver for Aston Martin Red Bull Formula One team, and the next day, Christian Horner invited you to his office to offer you an opportunity of a lifetime. Having a reserve driver who was a woman had already had the team under a large microscope – some calling it a step in the right direction whilst others arguing that it was nothing more than a PR move to gain sympathy. You tried telling your team principle your concerns about the media but he assured you that all will be dealt with and all you would need to do is drive a good race. 
So, you left the office with a renewed, and rewritten, contract and never looked back. After that, it was a whirlwind of media duties (both due to your ‘promotion’ and Daniel’s departure), photoshoots, and much more. Your trusted Apple Watch was replaced with a Tag Heuer one, which left you terrified of losing it. But Horner assured you that they’d deal with it – “Should you ever lose the watch, but try not to because it costs a lot of money, okay?” Max was with you in every step of the way, even though his father clearly unapproved of your pseudo-friendship. You sometimes think the only reason the two of you ever became friends is due to the fact that it was forced upon you due to you being teammates, but Max proves this to be wrong every time he brings you coffee in morning briefings because; “I don’t want for them to repeat it and extend the meeting because you’re sleepy,” or when he checks up on you before a race in a particular track he knows you’re anxious about; “Just making sure you’re calmed down so you don’t accidentally hit me,” or how he comforts you after every fight you have with your mother. 
Which brings us to another topic – your mother. You suppose what J.D Salinger said was true – Mothers are all slightly insane. And you are allowed to say that, because yours takes the term ‘dance mom’ to a whole other level. You thought since Daniel convinced your mother that he’d take care of you, she’d stay away, but she became very interested in your career as a racing driver. You’d hoped that wouldn’t be the case, but your dreams are crushed like your car when she shows up in your first race. You two have a very public fight, which Christian has to break up for both of your sakes, leaving you to lock yourself in your driver’s room for the remainder of the race. It’s only when your door is knocked you realise the race is over. You’re about to yell back against the persistent knocks that you want to be left alone when you hear his voice. 
You get up and open to door to let Max in, only to find yourself crashing in his arms on the couch, sobbing through his calming words. “It’s going to be fine,” he says and somehow you realise maybe the two of you aren’t so different. 
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2020
Between the pandemic and the new regulations, the 2020 season rocks your world – in a totally not cool way. The paddock buzzes with the health restrictions, everyone wanting to keep their drivers and staff safe. The stress from the unknown which comes from the fact that you’re in a freaking pandemic and that fact that your mother and Helmut Marko is enough to keep you on the edge throughout the whole season. The fights with your mother now more prominent than ever, you’re fairly sure that the poor people who are supposed to be doing their jobs can’t even do that because the fight seems to continue wherever you go. One day it’s about the fact that you couldn’t get a podium, the next time it’s because of the fact that you were third, you didn’t push enough, you pushed too hard, you didn’t use enough throttle, and the list goes on. You can feel the light in you fading with every fight, and the criticising jabs being masked as ‘little comments’, you’re just glad that you’re getting through the season without wanting to explode. 
It's between practice sessions when you sit down for lunch with your mother. You both order your food – her a salad, and you a sandwich. After the waiter leaves, your mother lets out an unsatisfied hum. 
“What’s wrong, mom?” You ask, trying to keep your voice and facial expression calm. 
“Wouldn’t it be better if you ate something healthier?” She asks, her voice condescending in every way you absolutely hate. “It would save your engineers a whole lot of work.” 
You sigh, turning your attention to your phone in your hands to appear busy. “The world isn’t going to end if I eat two slices of bread for lunch, mom.” You mumble. 
“It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t maintain healthier habits, I heard of this new diet–”
“I think she said she’d prefer the sandwich, Ms. Y/LN.” A voice interrupts, the one which you’ve become accustomed with. When you raise your head up, Max meets your eyes with an expectant look. “I’m sorry to keep your lunch short, but Christian said he wanted to meet us.” 
And with that, he quickly whisks you away from your mother. You’re confused when he leads you to his driver’s room instead of Christian’s office. You look at him with raised eyebrows, “I thought we were meeting Christian.” 
“Well, I might’ve lied.” He shrugs. Then, he moves towards the serving plate on the little table and motions you to sit. You’re even more surprised to find the sandwich you’ve ordered on the plate. He must’ve anticipated this because he explains it as he offers you the plate. “I was sitting a few tables over and heard you order it, now eat.” 
“Thanks, Max.” You whisper with a breathy voice. 
“It’s going to be fine.” He whispers back, making sure you eat every bite. 
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2021 
Everything is much more tense this season. Although the go through the races is podium finishes and points (and even a few wins), you realise Max is more on edge than you are. This also puts you in a slight state of panic, as he’s been the one better at keeping the cool between the two of you, but you manage to put your own insecurities aside to help your friend who’s done the same for you for the past two years. It starts with encouraging words and continues with comforting touches which evolve into hands lingering around after hugs. It becomes stolen looks across the rooms or group interviews where they separated the two of you. It later becomes holding each other’s hands under the tables during function and award shows and even holding each other in the comfort of your respective driver’s or hotel rooms. 
Max brings home a win in Monaco, while you steal the first place from Seb in Azerbaijan. He’s not bitter about it, in fact he congratulates you and doses you in so much champagne you have to take two showers to get the stickiness off your hair when you get back to your hotel room. While the season seems to be going for you from the race perspective, you realise Max is starting to have more problems with his father. You try your best when it comes to reassuring him, but both you and Max realise that you’re more open to being comforted than him. So, you provide the silence he craves and he eventually lets you know that he is ready for your cuddles. It’s a sad but a good routine. 
There’s one incident with an interview during the season. The tensions are high and people are starting to question your ability as a driver more now that you are bringing home podiums and wins. They are sceptical about the fact that you are a woman and question your every move and achievement – but you don’t mind it, you’re doing it for the little girls everywhere who watch you and hope to achieve the same things as you one day. 
An interviewer asks, “Isn’t it hard to focus on your task when you’re surrounded with nineteen other drivers who happen to be all men?”
You’re still tired from the previous race and not getting a full night’s sleep the night before, that it takes a while for you to comprehend the question. Thankfully, Daniel and Seb are there to defend you alongside Max. You turn your focus to the interviewer who asked the question as their protests die down. “Well,” you start with a shaky laugh, “I know the past year has messed up us all, but I’m not particularly into anything involving masks or stuff that conceal the face.” There is a nervous laughter around the room and the interviewer is not pleased with your answer. “Shall we continue?” You ask in the sweetest voice you can muster. When you look at Daniel and Max, both of them grin at you while giving you a supportive thumbs-up. 
You find yourself in his hotel room in Austin, a couple weeks after the race in Turkey. His eyes are focused on the portable screen as he plays FIFA. You’ve realised it’s a pre-race routine for him – not that you understand, his eyes must be tired after looking at the screen for too long. He asks you if you want to play and you agree, albeit timidly. He lets you play a few rounds after taking over and playing for fourteen hours straight to find himself ranking 21 worldwide. 
“You can always join an esports team after this.” You joke, your head is on the back of the couch as you look up at him. He laughs, agreeing you without any objection. 
“Maybe I should.” 
“What, you’re not going to continue racing until you are an old prune?” You ask. 
His face contorts. “No, that’s not the goal, schatje.”
“Then tell me,” You move your hands under your chin to appear more interested despite the sleep in your eyes. “what is the goal?” 
“To prove a point, and then I’m free.” He replies, mimicking your earlier pose. 
“You’re going to be fine, Max.” You speak in a soft voice; your touch is soft on his cheek when you bring one of your hands to caress the skin. “You’re going to become the champion this year.”
“How do you know?” Max asks, you can tell it is not to be sceptical, but it is in genuine curiosity. 
“Female intuition.” 
He lets out a big laugh, grabbing your wrist gently and pressing a kiss on the tips of your fingers. “Come on, we have to sleep before tomorrow. He have a race to win.” 
He wins, by the way – the race in Austin. And then, he goes on to win the 2021 World Championship. There are tears in your eyes as you congratulate him on the team radios, and after you get out of your car. He brings you on the podium and kisses you in front of the whole world. You realise that he was right all those times after all, everything is going to be fine.
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2022
Both of you are in a bubble when you get to the 2022 season. He kisses you before every race, you do the same. You wish each other luck and proceed to race on the track the best you can. You find each other after every race, mostly covered in champagne, and kiss again. Both of your parents were opposed to your relationship at first – your mother and his father. It’s funny to think that now, because he’s introduced you to his mother and you introduced him to your dad, and as far as their approval goes, the love extends both ways. You’ve told your mother to stop coming to races, presenting a clear argument without raising your voice once, which leaves her no choice to agree to your wishes. It was scary to even consider doing it, but the proud look on Max’s face is enough for you to do it all again.
You win the race in Monaco this year. Max is P3, but he looks just as happy as you when you direct your bottle of champagne towards him. Although Carlos is there with you on the podium, in that moment, it feels like the world consists of only the two of you. You go to celebrate with the team, of course. Christian pushing you into the pool and you pulling Max, and consequently him, alongside you. Someone captures the moment and you post it to your social media. Daniel makes sure everyone knows that he approves. 
The fight is still on, as Lewis would say. You know both him and Max are still fighting for the title. No one expected you to join the two of them in their fight for the title. The first few races are hard at the start of the season, but you outrace most of your friends on the track after your win in Monaco. By the time you get to Abu Dhabi for the season’s last race, you’re a shaky mess. He takes you into his arms and whispers affirming promises into your ear. 
“You’re going to become the world champion,” He announces to you. “I know you’re going to do it.” 
Your voice comes out creaking as you question, “How do you know?”
There is a warm smile on his lips as he answers, “Female intuition.” 
You both get ready to race before you could answer because of the knock on the door. 
“YOU DID IT, Y/N, YOU ARE THE FIRST FEMALE WORLD CHAMPION IN THE HISTORY OF FORMULA ONE!” Horner shouts through your radio. 
You’re still shaking by the time you park your car, and can’t get out even when your team huddles around you to celebrate. It takes a while to take it all in, but as you stand on the podium as the reigning champion with the man you love, nothing else matters to you in the world. You look around to see the smile on people’s faces, people shouting and cheering for you, and you even see your father who holds a banner with one of his hands as his other arm is wrapped around your team principal. It’s a bittersweet feeling, winning the same season one of your best friends announce that he is going to become a reserve driver. But Daniel is right there with your dad and Christian, screaming your name with pride. After your national anthem is played and you pop the champagne, you’re trying to get your eyes dry from all the tears as Max suddenly falls to his knees. You kneel with him with panic, of course, thinking that there might be something wrong with his heartbeat or something worse. But right as you’re about to call for help he brings something from his back towards you, opening the small box while maintaining his eye contact with you. There is an uproar of cheers around you, but it doesn’t matter. As far as you’re concerned, there’s only Max and you – and you and Max. 
“Marry me, liefje.” He says. 
You nod your head, “Yes.” 
He gathers you up in his arms after he puts the ring on your finger. You realise that he was right from the beginning, everything is more than fine. 
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2023
“You need to stop doing this to yourself.” You announce as you watch Daniel struggle with his overflowing luggage – again. “You’re not even driving this season.” 
“It’s not my fault, I can’t not take what the fans give me.” He tries to defend himself; he points to the suitcase with frustration. “Can you help me, please?”
“Only because I am in a good mood.” You announce as you kneel beside him and the two of you try closing the monstrosity in front of you. 
You know Max is there before he announces his arrival. “Putting my wife to work, Daniel?” He asks. He comes to kneel with the two of you helping you close the luggage up. Then, he kisses you softly on your lips as he mumbles, “Hello, Mrs. Verstappen.” 
“Hello, Mr. Verstappen.” You giggle. 
“God, you guys are insufferable.” Daniel pretends to gag, receiving glares from the both of you. “Remember when you guys hated each other? Yeah, I miss those days.” 
“We never hated each other.” Max shrugs. 
“Yeah,” You seem to agree with your husband. “It was just an inchident of misunderstanding.” 
“I better be your future kids’ godfather!” He yells behind you as you start to leave (your) driver’s room. “Children, bloody children.” He mumbles to himself, he waves his arms for help when he spots one of the interns, “Hey, do you think you can get me another luggage?”
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