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my-st0ff · 8 months

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mating szn

PART 2‼️ (part 1)

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!gf!reader

warnings: horny miguel, smut, fluff, dryhumping, unprotected p-i-v, breeding kink, scent marking, primal play, rutting miguel, possessiveness, reader is ovulating, descriptions of oral sex (f!receiving), rough sex

summary: miguel comes home feeling extremely needy

Stumbling and yelping in sync with his heavy footsteps catching up fast, you reach the first floor.

Before you get to offer yourself a fraction of a second to decide your next move, the hallway carpet curls up under your feet, slipping behind as your arms instinctively shoot forward for you to catch yourself.

Bringing one knee to your chest, you're prepared to launch yourself forward like an olympic runner.

Too bad.

Miguel's broad hands grip your waist from behind, once again sending jolts of adrenaline throughout your entire system.

You scream in delight through playful giggles, calling out his name breathlessly and maliciously arching into his hold.

You're getting wetter by the second seeing just how horny he is.

He pushes you down, forcing you on both knees. The deep pants from the chase quickly turn into something else as you feel his weight on your back, feel him get on one knee behind you.

His grip on your waist tightens. He brings his crotch up to your ass, grinding his erection up and down your clothed slit.

His hips roll slowly, rubbing the thick shaft of his hard-on lazily and mindlessly, the motions shallow and enticing.

"Ah, come on, baby", He leans forward, nuzzling his face into your soft hair, basking in the slightly-sweet, flowery scent of your shampoo. With a messy kiss to your neck, he speaks, raspy with need,

"Can't help it." More wet, sloppy kisses to your neck, more thrusts of his rock hard cock against your drenched folds through the thin material of your panties and his boxers. "I need, I need - ugh" the words fail to form as his hot breath hits the back of your neck, followed by more kisses and bites.

He brings a hand to the meat of your right thigh, grabbing harshly. He then lets it slip up over the mound of your pussy, cupping you and pushing two fingers over your folds, still stopped by your panties. You shiver at the feeling of his huge, warm palm touching your core so pervertedly, so desperately.

He can feel the wet patch on the cotton fabric, proof of reciprocated desire.

His senses once again catch the unmistakable, ever so dearly intoxicating aroma of you, so ready for him. His eyes roll back with a silent inhale, his bare chest rising and falling on your back.

He wants nothing more than to bury his face between your plush thighs and lap at your essence, pussy-drunk and keen on overstimulating you; licking and sucking at your clit, circling around your damp folds with his tongue until you're pushing him away, begging for a break, red, swollen and exhausted.

He can almost imagine you, tangling your fingers in his hair, pushing and pulling, either smothering him into your velvety cunt, needy and on the edge, or trying to escape his grip. He'd only hold you down, burly arms curling around your legs, just so he could make you come again, to feel you pulsate, feel your juices coat his mouth.

But with the way his cock twitches, begging for friction and stimulation, he can't think straight.

He feels an overwhelming urge to shove himself inside you and fill you with his cum, to see his cock rearranging your guts through your belly, to empty his balls in your womb and watch his seed dribble out of you, and push it back in with his still hard cock, hold it there so that it takes.

His warm, eager hands travel down to your panties, and in their loose hold as he attempts to drag them down your thighs, you once again snake away, giggling with a sardonic grin that doesn't do well in covering up the desire evident on your features.

"¡Mierda!" He grunts, and you enter the bedroom, reaching the balcony door and turning around. You catch the sight of Miguel clawing at the door frame to take the turn and come in faster.

Before you can react and take your eyes off the enormous bulge in his shorts, the defined shape of his dick protruding erotically against the material, he pounces, caging you against the wall, distancing your legs far apart with one knee.

His palms slip to your sides, not missing the savory opportunity to settle on the sides of your tits. He fondles their softness with the heels of his hands, pushing them together, pressing his whole body into yours.

You let out a barely audible moan as he corners you, almost squeezing you between his muscular frame and the wall behind you, and he almost loses all that's left of his sanity.

He kisses your temple, full of yearning. Although, he's instantly reminded that his scent has worn off of your feverish skin.

"Por favor,-" a deep groan vibrates in his chest against you, making you quiver.

"He estado cachondo todo el día," (I've been horny all day). He holds you tight against him, your tender breasts pressed flush against his pecs.

"No podía pensar en nada más que en ti" (I couldn't think of anything but you.)

You finally give in and offer a smidge of relief, sliding your hand down to grab his clothed hard cock. The second he feels you palm him tentatively, he reflexively starts rubbing himself on your hand like an animal in heat, groaning ruggedly.

"That's it." He rasps, fed up, and it's almost a threat.

He slowly walks over to the bed with you secure in his arms, but when his knees hit the frame, he doesn't drop you like he normally would. No. He's not giving you another chance to flee. A part of him loves the cat-and-mouse game he knows you enjoy so much, but the other part can already feel his fat, full balls turning blue.

Placing you down, hands still gripping your waist viciously, he gets on the bed, the mattress sinking down under his weight.

You feel your clit throb as he traps you with his thighs, taking your shirt off. His touch leaves goosebumps over your silky skin.

Under your hazy gaze fixed on his movements, he hovers above you, skipping the usual looks of adoration. Not that the sentiments were gone by any means, but he was far too needy to wait any longer.

The kiss he suffocates you with is fiery, full of all the pent up tension he had to endure.

As his mouth moves against yours eagerly and messily, you notice how it lacks his characteristic expert, methodical approach.

His lips were just as soft as ever, but devoured your every moan and breath with a fervor unfamiliar. His tongue slips past the liplock, dominating you in no time, and right when you start to adjust to the new strategy, catching up with his movements, he parts from you, breaking the kiss and sucking your soul out of you with it.

He continues his attack down your throat, biting and licking hurriedly, marking you as his.

Groaning freely, he reaches your breasts, taking them in his mouth, one after the other. His hands squeeze, roam and play with them, making you bite down on your lower lip and whine beneath him.

He suckles on the perked nipples, releasing them to catch his breath with another gravel moan. When he's done, your chest is coated in his spit; fresh, red hickies already blooming over your tender tits.

The weight of his cock settles on your thigh, pressed snugly and oozing precum through a dark spot on his boxers.

Your own hands attach to his silky dark hair, caressing and brushing wild strands away from his forehead, clinging and pulling occasionally when he latches onto your breasts again after taking a few deep breaths.

Sliding lower, impatiently licking and biting over the line of your stomach, he finally gets to your panties.

He kisses the soft lips of your pussy through the fabric, the scent of your arousal driving him mad. He groans again, words slurred through the desperate, obscene licks, "Eres.." He extends his tongue, lapping up at the dampness, "..tan bonita." (You're so pretty)

Your heels are digging into his shoulder blades as you squirm and moan under his sultry touch. Through half lidded eyes, you see him bare his pearl white fangs, as if prepared to sink them into your sensitive skin.

You gasp, a little above a moan.

"Miguel! Don't - ah" You whimper as he grits his teeth around the elastic of your panties, tearing them in two with the help of one hand.

He grabs your thighs, kneeling between your legs.

Shoving his hand in his shorts, he takes his dick out, its mushroom head glistening mauve. He begins to stroke it more violently than you thought he would've taken pleasure in.

Mouth agape, pupils blown wide, he looks downright primal. Solely focused on claiming you, on stuffing you full of his potent seed, of draining his fat balls in your warm cunt until you're begging him to stop through ablaze overstimulation.

Cock in hand, incontestably massive encompassed by his proportionally large fingers, he slaps the hard, angered, heavy shaft on your tender folds, groaning at the wet sound of flesh against flesh. He rubs it over your reddish-hued lips, drenching it in your juices.

You notice his thighs flex, already insanely sensitive. When he eases the head in, he moans, rough and low in his throat, brows creased in pained pleasure. You whimper his name, legs quivering faintly on each side of his waist.

Using his weight to press your body down into the mattress, forcing you onto him, he slides his arms underneath your knees, throwing them over his shoulders and bending you in half.

A shiver bursts through you at the sensation. You clench around him, forcing a strangled groan out of his throat.

He braces himself down on his forearms, face nestled in the crook of your neck. Pushing in, the bulbous tip of his cock kisses your cervix as he bottoms out and gets straight to a tireless pace, not giving you the ritualistic second to adjust.

The bed creaks and squeaks with the way he's throwing himself into your cunt, pounding you into the soft cushions relentlessly.

His hips gyrate roughly against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you, dipping his meaty cock in your juices with an obscene, wet squelching, finishing each delicious swing with a quicker entry, more forceful and animalistic. His pubes brush harshly against your engorged, swollen clit, sending jolts of electricity through your core.

Skipping the tension, the build-up of speed, he drives straight to the euphoric rhythm of a release chase. His balls slap onto your ass, his pelvic bone nearly delivering bruising slams against your own.

“Ugh, oh Miguel-,” you gasp for more air, struggling to form a coherent sentence through delirium, your breaths and moans rhythmically timed by his rough thrusts.

You curl your arms around his neck, nails digging into his back and shoulders. He looks down at you, watching your breasts bounce in his face, and starts rutting harder into you, every ridge and vein of his fat cock brushing against your sensitive spots perfectly.

Each time you call for him, it's a melody, a rapturous chant that has him on his knees, his mind in cobwebs, his heart aching; and for the time being, his cock throbbing as well.

"I'm - ah! Cumming!Ugh, M- Mig- uel- !" You moan sharply, your orgasm rapidly threatening to burst like fireworks.

He frowns, panting, shallow breaths hot over your face. You convulse under his massive body, arching your back, squeezing your tits flush against his feverish skin.

He feels your pussy flutter around his cock, milking him and sucking him in. He groans loudly in your ear, pace faltering ever so slightly. The headboard of the bed keeps slamming against the room wall, spurring your orgasm on with the reminder of the force of the man above you.

With one final thrust, his whole body tenses. He pushes forward, burying his cock in your soft, warm cunt, dumping his load in much slower and shallow rolls of his hips. You feel his dick pulsate inside you with each new spurt of cum, the remnants of your own climax making you clench around him reflexively.

He stills, relief washing over him. Meeting your gaze, he watches how you come back to your senses, the blinding lust replaced by love and admiration.

He grabs your waist and pulls you down with him, laying you on his chest, his softening cock still inside you.

You close your eyes, head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Dinner long forgotten.

divider by @cafekitsune

a/n: did my best here. the tags deadass took longer than the writing

TAGS

@thel0velykey190 @allysunny @weirdothatwritess @animechick93 @6thhokageswife @spookydragonsong @aisyakirmann @playmatenextdoor @skulfan1 @sat10 @2joos2cry @2099hitmylineyline @aiyaaayei @holographicang3l @heartfairy @cyberbugg @freehentai @acrazybiotch374 @theywhowriteandknowthings @shinyberry69 @pluviophilis @barely-thriving23 @realalpacorn @thekidscallmebosss @hrlzy @m4dyy @cringeycookies @tendoswifi @greatheartattacks @reborn-rekall @darksidescorner @yehet-moi-ohorat @poeticmoonspirit @kth137

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my-st0ff · 8 months

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Red Dead Redemption 2 — America, 1899

#rdr #rdr2 #scenery

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my-st0ff · 8 months

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Reblog🤲🙏

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my-st0ff · 8 months

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Curse

Chapter One

Fandom: American Horror Story

Pairing: Dandy Mott x female reader

Chapter Song: Curse of the Balckened Eye - Orville Peck (lyrics in bold)

Story Summary: When you, a devoted to work detective, are put on the case of the Motts, you rise to the challenge. Though you do your best to focus your attentions on all aspects of the case, the son of Mrs. Mott seems to be doing all he can to take up your time.

"Why and how did you leave Aubrey, Miss Mott?"

You hold focused eye contact with the woman that sat on the velvet couch opposite the one you warmed. One leg crossed over the other, and a notepad rested upon your thigh.

Mrs. Mott: "Please, again Detective, it's Mrs. Mott. I'm still lawfully wed"

You: "My apologies... So, about Mr. Mott"

Mrs. Mott: "Yes, of course. Well, by 27, I was planning on how I would get away. I always said, "I should work on my escape" to Dandy but stalled so much"

You: "Dandy was, what? Seven?"

You knew how wrong it was to try and have a child process their parents' separation. But you were not here to express any sort of opinion. So you remain stone faced.

Mrs. Mott: "Two"

You couldn't have heard her right. You think.

You: "Hm? Sorry, I didn't catch that?"

Mrs. Mott: "Little Dandy was two"

Her gaze drifts from yours, images of her son as a toddler replaying in her mind. This was only when your pupils flickered up to the topic of discussion. Dandy stood behind the sofa with a hand resting on the back of it, one by each of his mother's shoulders - a few inches from them. His towering stature had to lean a little for his palms to reach the back of the sofa. He had not yet said anything, as you had made it clear you had to talk to Mrs. Mott first. But it still felt so much like he was in charge of this whole ordeal.

You: "Okay, so"

You clear your throat.

"I must bring us back to topic. How and why did you leave Aubrey?"

A glimpse of offence flashes over her eyes before they join yours again in a polite manor.

Mrs. Mott: "He was suspicious, and it made me nervous in my own home. Coming home late in a scruff, yelling and hitting"

Though hearing things like this disgusted you, it barely had an effect on you after all the cases you had dealt with.

You: "Was this around the time he had committed his first murder? Is that correct?"

Mrs. Mott's jaw clenches, and as it does, Dandy's sinister glare you had been doing your best to ignore finally drops from you and lands on his mother.

Mrs. Mott: "My Aubrey did not murder anybody"

She says, avoiding eye contact. Urges to argue were drowned out by professionalism as you mustered up your next question.

You: "Did you have any other children, Mrs. Mott?"

Mrs. Mott: "No, I've been hiding out, running from the curse. I wouldn't dare bare another child. I got so very lucky with Dandy"

She answers instantly.

You: "The curse?"

Mrs. Mott: "Oh, don't play coy, detective"

She smiles down her nose at you.

"You've heard what people say about this family"

You: "You believe in the Mott curse?"

You felt silly asking something like this.

Mrs. Mott: "How could I not. Every man related to Aubrey displayed concerning behaviour similar to his. I was so lucky to have him, and not one of them"

The repetition of 'lucky' was curious.

You: "What about the women? Have any of the women in the Mott family tree been known to become violent or even just very abrasive?"

Mrs. Mott: "No, dear"

She smiles sweetly.

Mrs. Mott: "More tea?"

You peer down at the tea you had forgotten about and not touched once. Now presumably cold and staining the china.

You: "Um- no, thank you, ma'am... and what can you tell me about the disappearance of Tomas Mott?"

Dandy: "Oh, please, don't upset my mother"

The mystery chips in. Though you needed him to remain quiet until it was his turn to be interviewed. You were somehow so intrigued by him that you did not become irritated by this. You only realised after the fact how out of character it was for you to agree to him being in the room for hers. Dandy Mott held a threatening authority in this household, and the moment you entered the grand doors you could feel it.

You: "I understand this is a very difficult topic, for the both of you. But this would be so much easier for all of us if you would provide me with anything you know so that I don't have to dig deeper"

You return your now empathetic gaze to his mother.

"Either way, I fully intend to find out what happened to your son, Mrs. Mott"

Mrs. Mott: "I don't want to- I won't discuss this. I think I have given you enough, detective"

Her voice pitches up a sylobal.

You: "Of course, but I will need to hear more about your son from you personally at some point or another, ma'am"

Dandy: "Goodie, my turn"

He rolls his eyes and moves impatiently around the sofa as his mother leaves the room.

Mrs. Mott: "I'll be reading in my bedroom if I am needed"

She calls back without giving a second glance.

Dandy finally enters the light upon stepping in front of the couch and then sitting. He had glass skin and stiff-with-jell hair. His thin lips lay permanently downturned, and his hands clasped together between his lap. His legs a bit apart. You smile at him modestly.

You: "Right, let's begin"

You clear your throat once again.

You: "As you already know, I am Detective y/n y/l/n. I am here today to ask you a few questions regarding the disappearances surrounding the Mott family"

The fail to continue when you notice Dandy's yawning habit.

Dandy: "Why are you telling me all this crap?"

You smile and huff in a laugh. Remaining polite and professional.

You: "I have to, Mr. Mott"

Dandy: "Yes, but I've just heard you give this whole schpiel to my mother. I was in the room, remember?"

He continues, his bratty tone grinding on you just a little.

You: "You really weren't supposed to have been but-"

Dandy: "My house, my rules, right?"

He smirks.

You: "Of course, I can make small exceptions to make sure I am respecting people's comfortability"

Dandy: "It is appreciated, detective"

He gives a small stirring smile. No clear signs were given as to if it were genuine or not. Before you could voice any questions, Mott leaned forward, his elbows on his knees.

Dandy: "May I ask you a question before we begin?"

You curled your lips inwards, as you did when thinking, for a moment.

You: "Go ahead"

Dandy: "Are you being paid for all aspects of what you're putting into this case?"

You: "I beg your pardon"

Your brows knit softly in confusion.

Dandy: "Are you just doing what you're assigned to be, or are you doing, how do I say vigilante work on this case also? Since police and detectives have been investigating this family for years, they don't seem very interested anymore. But you do"

He studied your whole form as he spoke like a fish in a tank.

You: "I just take my work very seriously, Mr. Mott"

You choose a short and non-fuffiling answer. You pushed on to keep this interview professional.

Dandy: "That I see... just wondered"

He retreats back from his lean.

Dandy: "Please continue"

You: "You and Tomas were twins, is that correct?"

Dandy: "Yes"

You: "Were you close growing up"

Dandy: "Very"

Though he answered you promptly, his attentions had already been stolen by the window behind you.

You: "How so? What sort of things did the two of you get up to together? How did you bond?"

Dandy: "We went fishing"

He smiles fondly.

You: "Sounds nice. And do you remember exactly how old the two of you were when he went missing?"

Dandy: "16."

You: "What year was it?"

Dandy: "42, 1942."

You: "And what month was it?"

Dandy: "March."

His eyes flick back into yours.

Dandy: "What the actual hell are these questions?"

He laughs. You push on.

You: "And where were you the night he disappeared?"

Dandy: "At home, asleep. It was in the middle of the night."

You: "Was it?"

Shit, you think. Shouldn't have asked that. That surely made him nervous. This isn't an interrogation, y/n.

Dandy: "Oh, please, we both know he ran off in the middle of the night"

He come backs strong.

You: "How are you sure?"

Dandy: "He was to be married in a month's time to a servent lady, realisation took him a while I'll admit but when it hit him that he was bringing that sort of dishonour to the Mott name he thought his only option was to run."

Your almost impressed.

You: "You've had a lot of time to think on it, and you have been using it, I see"

Dandy's face screws into a disappointed glare.

Dandy: "Of course I have. He was my twin brother, for heavens sake"

Was.

You: "The whole ordeal hurt you alot then, yes?"

Dandy: "To this day, detective. It hurts. I sat around wishing so many times that I would die... but I learnt that eventually, there really is no point dwelling on the past"

Dandy stands with dominance.

Dandy: "That's all you need, yes?"

You: "As a matter of fact, no. May I ask you to sit back down, sir?"

Dandy: "As a matter of fact"

He mocks.

"Look, it's true, if that is what you want to hear"

You stand as well, notepad in hand and pen in the other. In an attempt to catch up with his movements.

You: "What is, Dandy?"

You accidently use his fist name in a state of urgency.

Dandy: "True it follows me around. The Mott curse, I'm sick like the rest of the men that have come and gone"

He gives you a side glance from where he stands away from you.

Dandy: "I'd keep an eye on me if I were you, y/n"

He repeats the use of informal referral. Then casually leaves the room.

Dandy: "Dora will show you out"

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my-st0ff · 8 months

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Morning sex with Patrick | NSFW HEADCANON

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— A/N: That was very sudden, but I hope you like it. Many thanks to @sleeplessphantom for inspiration and @optional for the amazing gifs!😍

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [buy me a coffee]💓

It was no secret that Patrick's sex drive was quite high, so even if he fucked you before you went to sleep, it didn't mean he wouldn't fuck you again in the morning. Especially if you acted like a brat all day.

If Bateman woke up early, you were already in trouble, because his big palms would find their way under your clothes before you could even notice. Inch by inch he would explore your tender skin, enjoying the way your body would react to his small, innocent touches, making his cock harder than ever.

Patrick would play with your breasts, rolling your taut nipples between his skillful fingers as he turned on his side, pulling you closer to his body so you could not escape what was to come. Elated, Bateman would greedily take your little tip in his mouth, closing his eyes in sweet pleasure as you knit your beautiful eyebrows, by this time you would be so fucking wet and he would make sure to check it.

"Mmmhm," you mewled as you felt his hot breath on your belly as he descended upon you. "Pat… Patty!"

"Yes, babydoll," he growled back in a raspy voice, kissing your inner thigh as he caressed another. "I'm here and I'm gonna make you feel so fucking good."

Slowly you opened your eyes to see the sun reflecting off his beautiful hair, giving it a golden hue, while Bateman was already settling between your legs.

The burning sensation of his hot tongue on your sensitive clit made you almost bite the pillow — every time he did it felt like the first time, it was overwhelming and astonishing because he knew what he was doing. He always did.

"Aww—Daddy," you arched your back and buckled your legs up to his face as he lapped at your juicy pussy, holding you wide open for his thirsty mouth. "So good, it f-feels so good!"

Throwing your head back, you crumpled the blankets underneath you from the pulsating tension in your lower belly as Patrick was literally devouring your warm body, not forgetting to make lewd noises that drove you crazy. But as soon as he felt you begin to convulse, he stopped everything and pulled away from your heated slit, forcing a sad gasp from your rapidly breathing chest.

"Patrick?" You leaned up on your elbows to look down at him, but at the same moment he deftly grabbed your hand to wrap it around his engorged length. With each stroke, Bateman's panting grew louder and soon he was closing his eyes in pleasure, tilting his head and letting go of your hand as he allowed you to take control of the pace.

"Such a good little girl," he groaned passionately before lying down next to you and placing his hand where his mouth had been a few minutes ago. "Today I wanna see you bouncing on my cock."

His words, along with the circular rubbing movements around your swollen bud, made you whimper and encouraged you to jerk him faster. For a brief moment, the two of you would look into each other's eyes, blurry with intoxicating desire, as your hands were giving too much pleasure by playing with needy, hot flesh.

Soon you would be hopping on top of him, wailing pitifully as his beefy dick rammed into you from below, his firm hips giving you no rest.

"Daddy! You're s-so big!" Shaking, you cried out with your eyes closed as his strong arms pinned you down on his thick cock, slapping your ass from time to time when you dared to slow down just a tiny bit.

"Argh—yeah, just like that," he praised you, admiring the view of your bouncing breasts as you did your best to ride him hard, no matter how painful it was for your little hole - his veiny shaft tore you from the inside. "Use my cock... mhmm... use my cock like a dirty slut you are!"

Whimpering, you leaned on his buffed torso, speeding up and letting yourself get lost in the fire of passion, the curve of his dick hitting all the right spots and the angle of penetration was so sick — you had no choice but to cum hard around him, squeezing his pulsating cock so vividly.

"Mmhm! I'm so... SO CLOSE... AWW!"

"Jeez, your greedy pussy is clinging to me so fucking tight!" Bateman grunted, forcing you to sprawl across his chest as he fucked you senselessly, his strong arms giving you no chance to move.

You fell over the edge, feeling the waves of pleasure hit every part of your body like an electric shock. Patrick had to thrust harder to break through the grip of your pussy, soon he would join you in the ocean of bliss, spending his warm seed in your womb until it began to flow down.

And only after some time, when you both had recovered your breath, would Bateman cradle your face and bring you closer to kiss you gently on the lips, murmuring: "That's what I call a 'good morning.'"

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #patrick bateman imagines

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