#daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry. daddy?
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
#mom and dad are back!#911#911 abc#911 spoilers#athena grant#bathena#bobby nash#angela bassett#peter krause#mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy?#daddy? sorry. daddy? sorry. daddy?#<- very necessary tags#my gifs#forgive the quality of these. and the coloring#i'm too impatient & excited to do it any better lol
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's a shame I don't play Dragon Age because Emmrich Volkarin seems like my exact fucking type Jesus fucking Christ
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kinda need to have sex in a hot boxed car. Like I want to be hazily touching up on someone and every breath and pant is just getting us higher. To be surrounded by the heavy smell of weed, stuck in a cramped space, groping and pleasing each other through our clothes while everything feels so good.
#sorry for all the intox posts recently#schools starting soon so I’m smoking more often while I can <3#intox#intox k1nk#weed intox#intox fantasy#intoxication play#intox play#t4t ns/fw#ftm t4t#t4t nsft#ftm nsft#t4t#t4t mlm#ftm dom#ftm daddy#t4t puppy#ftm ns/fw
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
He loved her immediately I'm gonna cry
#and I'm probably projecting a little too much#but idk#the first thing he said to her was her outfit was cute#and he took her in without question#his only hesitation was if it was against her wishes#he let her call him Daddy if/when she felt comfortable doing so#and she started doing it immediately#they were all the other really had#Trucy has Very Complicated Feelings about Zak but she can love Phoenix without question#sorry I'm being emotional#Phoenix Wright#Trucy Wright#ace attorney#turnabout succession
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
#Yeah#500 year old is actually young#Sauron is older than the world#So when I see him judged as if he was a college student with daddy issues it sounds a bit off sorry#haladriel#saurondriel#Sauron#Nosferatu#Trop#ellen x orlok#count orlok
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
“... yeah, I think Bucky could be a great dad.”
#i would have his babies#i don't want to be a mother but i want him as my babies' daddy#as many as bucky want it's okay it's fine#anytime anywhere#there so many nasty thoughts running around my head istg#i am so sorry for rambling and this one#i can't find the right colors. i'll fix it later.#sebastian stan#bucky barnes#marvel#mcu#sebastianstanedit#sebstanedit#fysebastianstan#sstanedit#stansclan#gbbb
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS
dec 10th. tom riddle — oral sex, experienced!tom.
RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024
summary: your ex couldn’t make you orgasm, so you were certain you were broken. tom shows you just how wrong you are.
warnings: 18+, SMUTTT MDNI, tom riddle can eat me aliv—sorry who tf said that?, tom riddle is such a realist; he sees a problem and he finds a solution, tom is a munch, praise kink, oral f!receiving, experienced tom, hufflepuff!reader.
Months pass, and your project remains the only thing Tom ever prioritizes when it's you asking.
Progress is slow—slow because you're usually far too busy talking to actually focus—yet, he always stays. He listens, even when the things you say should bore him, even when they mean nothing at all. He sits there—giving you hardly the barest scraps of himself in return as you fill the space between you with everything that crosses your mind.
Things he'd never waste a second hearing from anyone else.
And tonight, to no-one's surprise, you're doing it again—rambling on about nothing and everything all at once. You've got this way of talking—weaving tangents into something almost poetic, and usually, he lets it fade into the background as he works. You're saying something about the differences between the seasons, or maybe it's just some other kind of sentimental nonsense—at this point, he's not entirely sure.
It's easy to tune out. He tells himself he's not really listening.
Until—
"Actually, I guess I should clarify that—it's all hypothetical. I don't date," he doesn't know what you said before this, but he's certainly intrigued by it now. "And really, it has nothing to do with like, self esteem or anything, I'm just broken. Best to save someone the trouble."
That stops him cold. It's not so much the declaration that you don't date—he could have guessed that himself—but more so the way you've just called yourself broken.
It's not a word he's ever heard you use before.
"What do you mean, broken?" He asks, the question coming out far more blunt than he probably intended.
It just seems so out of character for you—you've always been an optimist, far too annoyingly positive to speak of anything this way. He blinks when you freeze, and blinks again when a moment of self consciousness seems to pass over your face—and he notes how that's a first for you, too.
"Broken...as in, uh, not normal," your eyes flit down to your lap, tracing the wood beneath where you're seated on the floor in his dorm. "My ex made that very clear in his assessment of me."
The mention of an ex is something he'd been anticipating—you're in your twenties, after all—but it's the idea that your ex is the source of you calling yourself broken, that he can't quite swallow.
"You're 'broken' because of one ex?" He says, and he can't stop how derisive and skeptical his voice sounds. He doesn't care to try. "I'm not following."
"I'm what you'd call, damaged goods, I think," you murmur, and there's an almost self-deprecating smirk on your face. He can't help but think how he's never seen that look on you, either. "I've got a slew of unhealthy baggage that comes along with me. You know, childhood traumas, abandonment issues, daddy issues—"
He snorts at that—daddy issues—and your head snaps up, smirk deepening despite yourself.
"Don't snort at my daddy issues," you huff, and there's a familiar annoyance in your voice that puts him at ease. "They're valid and real."
"I'm not denying their validity," he counters, his own smirk beginning to surface. "But daddy issues? Come on. You're not some tired cliché ripped out of a teenage romance novel. I refuse to accept your declaration of brokenness until you give me factual reasoning."
You laugh at that—alive and genuine—and for a moment, he's reminded of why he even tolerates you in his space at all.
"Fine," you cross your arms over your chest. "What do you want to know then?"
He makes a low, contemplative sound at that—because there's a million questions that come to mind with the words damaged goods—and after a moment, he settles on the one that falls out first.
"What is it, precisely, that makes you broken?"
You sigh, a bit theatrically—he knows you're just putting on a show and he wants to laugh at you for it—but he reigns that in, for now, while you figure out how you're going to respond to that.
The truth is, you don't know how to tell him the real reason you're broken—the part that has nothing to do with the laundry list of emotional baggage you could rattle off with ease. It's something...different.
Something more physical.
"I don't know, okay?" You're getting defensive. You're not sure why but you are. "Just—forget I said anything. We have this assignment to—"
"You dodging the question tells me it's more than just psychological," he cuts you off, leaning back into the couch. The way he's looking at you makes it clear—there's no way he's letting this go. "You getting defensive tells me you're embarrassed by it."
You sigh again, leaning back on your palms to mirror his body language, though it doesn't feel half as natural on you as it does on him.
"And you, being an insufferable arse, is telling me I never should have mentioned it in the first place."
His smirk at that makes you want to glare at him.
"Stop dodging," he says. "You brought it up. You don't get to take it back."
It's a challenge—the gleam in his eyes is practically screaming so. You're not sure why the sight of it makes something low in your stomach clench, and you're even less sure of why you want to tell him something like this—something you haven't told anyone else—not friends, certainly not family.
Whatever the reasoning, you can feel yourself relent.
"Maybe," you pause, the look on his face makes you second guess yourself. "...maybe I don't want to tell you because I'm afraid you'll look at me differently." You glance down at your lap, fingers twitching against the yellow pleats of your skirt before finally meeting his eyes again. "And I kind of like the way you look at me now."
Something like curiosity passes over his expression at that—but it's quickly hidden by the type of skepticism that tells you he still doesn't believe you're being serious.
"You're overthinking it," he replies, unmoving. "Whatever it is you think you're going to tell me, I'm not going to look at you differently. You're still you—no filter, unabashedly verbal—"
"Too verbal. Too positive, too loud," you finish his sentence for him—because you know that's how he thinks of you. "Too annoyingly optimistic. Far too hufflepuff for your cold snake skin. I know."
"Exactly," he says, tongue running over his bottom lip in attempt to quell his smirk. "So I reiterate. There's nothing you could tell me that would change that."
"Fine," you relent, giving in begrudgingly because you know there's no other option. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
He just lifts a hand at that, as if to say; whatever you think it is, I can handle it. The action makes you suck a breath into your lungs, trapping it there.
"You're right," you say after a long exhale. "I have a slew of psychological bullshit that would take the span of a year for me to fully go over in one sitting—but, I'm fine with it. That's...that's not the thing that made me call myself broken."
He says nothing, just makes a motion with his eyes for you to keep going.
"It's, uhm...physical." You whisper, and your brain is moving too much and too fast and you're not even completely sure how to say it without sounding insane. "And...I don't know, I just...I can't orgasm. No matter what. I just can't—it's frustrating and embarrassing and it's the reason my ex ended things."
There's a silence that follows, and he knows if it were anyone else, they'd probably find a way to comfort you. Reassure you. Tom, however, isn't anyone else—
"You're joking," he says, and his tone is incredulous again.
A self-depreciating laugh leaves your lips involuntarily, the sound of it making you almost want to cringe.
"Would it be less embarrassing if I was?"
He's still just watching you, dissecting your words as if waiting for you to crack a smile and confess this was all some stupid joke—and the vulnerability of it aches like a stab to the gut.
"This is the reason you think you're broken?" Is what he goes with when he finally realizes you're being serious. "Because you haven’t orgasmed?"
The bluntness of it makes you flush, makes you wish you could sink into the floor. "I know it's not normal, okay—"
"It's not an abnormality, either," he asserts, with casualty. "You might just have a disconnect."
You blink, caught off guard—not just by his choice of words, but by how matter-of-fact he sounds, like this isn't the mortifying confession it feels like.
"A disconnect?"
"A disconnect," he repeats, looking you over, something clinical slipping into his eyes. "Between mind and body. And considering how loud your thoughts are—"
"Hey—" you snap, suddenly feeling a bit indignant, but he just continues on.
"—it's not surprising that you can't get out of your own head."
You open your mouth to argue, to tell him he's not a therapist, so what the hell does he know? But the certainty in his expression makes you pause. He doesn't look patronizing or condescending, just...assured. Like he knows exactly what he's talking about.
You hesitate, lips parting, a protest forming on your tongue. Before you can say anything, though, he raises a hand to stop you.
"Come here," he says, standing up from the couch.
You blink, trying to decipher what the hell he's implying—because if anything, the last thing that's going to make you less paranoid about intimacy is proximity.
"What?"
He just looks at you, making a motion with two fingers, beckoning you to stand.
"Don't ask questions. Just come here."
It's an order, and it makes your spine tingle in a way that's definitely not comfortable—but you get up from the floor, and move closer to him anyway, closing the distance between you with only a few steps until you're close enough to him that you can practically feel the heat that seems to come off him in waves.
It's weird—he's suddenly too much all at once—you're so much more aware of him being in front of you than you think you've ever been before and it does not help that he's just looking at you—as if studying you—blinking only once as he raises those same two fingers to your neck, resting them against the pulse point at your throat.
Your entire body tenses. His touch is far more gentle than you ever imagined it being, something disarming that makes your pulse beat faster against his fingers as a result—and because this is Tom, with all his smug and certainty—he gives you a look that tells you he can feel it before he slides his fingers up to rest on your forehead.
You scowl at the motion, but he clicks his tongue, the sound as condescending as it is amused.
"I told you, you're an overthinker." He murmurs, eyes dipping to your lips. "Too much noise."
You want to refute that—mostly because you're not overthinking, you can't be—he's just so unequivocally overwhelming—
"I'm not—"
You start, but he moves his fingers from your forehead and places them against your lips—
"Quiet." He scolds, and that makes something low in your stomach clench. "Your body knows what to do. You're just letting your thoughts get in the way."
You long to protest again, just for the sake of defiance—but then his fingers are against your collarbone, and that motion in your stomach becomes a bit more of a squirm—
"Your body is trying to tell you something," he whispers, watching each little hitch in your breath. "But you're too busy talking over it to hear what it's saying."
You realize—with a sort of horror that's laced with something a little more uncomfortable—that he's right. Your body is trying to say something. It's communicating through the unsteady force of your breaths, through the clench of your fists against your skirt—
Of course, he notices. He's noticing far too much.
"Relax," he murmurs, and now he's trailing those same two fingers in an unhurried path down your shoulder. You suddenly regret every decision that led to you wearing a T-shirt. "I'm not going to bite you."
Something about the way he says it makes you wish he wasn't quite so convincing—the familiar banter you long for gone with the sharp exhale that comes out of your mouth as his fingers encircle your wrist—
"Your pulse is racing," he says casually, far too casually for how much effort it's taking you not to scream. "Does that seem broken to you?"
Gods—you want to respond—you really, really do— but your thoughts flatline when you realize his touch has shifted. He's no longer just holding your wrist; he's guiding your hands to rest against his chest, and—
"There you go," he whispers, and the tone of it tells you he knows exactly what it is he's doing to you. "See? Your body's doing exactly what it's meant to do. You—" his fingers trail up your arms, and his voice gets lower. "—are not broken."
You swallow hard, acutely aware of your hands on his chest and the way your palms are clammy against the fabric of his shirt. He's shifting you now, deliberately crowding you, and it's only when you feel the edge of the couch press against the back of your calves that you realize—perhaps a second too late—exactly what it is he's doing.
You stumble back onto the leather, and he follows—crushing his lips to yours.
You gasp, startled, because despite everything you truly hadn't seen this coming. The kiss is messy, clumsy, and his hand finds the nape of your neck, tugging at your hair with just enough force to make it sting. And inevitably, when you gasp again, he takes it as an invitation to work his tongue into your mouth, other hand slipping under your shirt—trailing up your stomach.
You're trembling now, and he makes a low sound at the realization. Your brain is racing to catch up, and the irony of this isn't lost on you—he'd just claimed you weren't broken, but he might as well be destroying you himself.
He parts from your lips only to trail his own across your jaw—
"You're shaking," he murmurs with a smirk against your throat—as if he's taking immense pleasure in the fact—you hate how smug it makes him sound. "Do you want me to stop?"
You want to tell him he's being a bastard, but then his lips press to that spot on your neck—the one that makes your breath hitch and your pulse stutter—and you find yourself whimpering at the sensation.
"No," you breathe, and you'd be embarrassed by the pleading tone in your voice if you weren't so lost in the moment. "Don't stop."
He makes another low, satisfied noise at that.
"Good," he whispers. "No thinking. Just feel."
You swallow—throat dry. It's unfair how easily he's dismantling you with nothing but his mouth and hands. Unfair how he's leaving you breathless and unraveling while somehow making you feel seen in a way you can't explain, even with your eyes shut.
"Tom," you find yourself whimpering, and you aren't even sure what you're asking for—you just know you want more as his lips trail lower—as his fingers work to tug down your skirt. "Gods."
"Shh. Feel me," he murmurs, almost possessively, his lips brushing lower, grazing over your stomach, then your pelvis. "Let your body do the talking."
You've got your hands tangled in his hair before you even know what you're doing, and you hate the fact that you're pretty sure you'd melt into a puddle if he weren't holding you together.
"I feel you," you whimper as he kisses lower. "You're all I feel."
He makes another low sound at that, and you just know it's the response of ‘yeah, that’s right’—but then he's between your legs, panties shifted out of the way, and the first sweep of his tongue against your clit makes all coherent thought shift to static.
"Oh! God," you gasp, the word barely escaping before dissolving into a whimper when he does something with his tongue that makes your vision blur. "Tom—oh, fuck."
He just makes that smug, satisfied noise against you again before his tongue swirls over your clit and you find yourself almost cursing whatever deity made him so good at this, because it's not fair how quickly he reduced you to a whimpering, shaking mess beneath him and—
"Don't stop," you find yourself babbling, digging your nails into his scalp and knowing you look like a goddamn wreck as he makes a meal out of you—tongue lapping up your slick and swirling your clit before sealing his lips around it and forcing your back off the leather beneath it. "Please, don't stop, please—"
It's all you can manage to say. Your thighs are shaking now, and you're sure he's got you dripping all over his face with how soaked you are. He knows you're falling apart and he just keeps going— your brain ceasing function in favour of just focusing on how fucking close you are—how close you are to something you've never felt before in your life—and you're not even sure what you're begging for anymore but it's incoherent and loud—
"I need—" you whimper, your hands tightening in his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan against you. You don't know what you're asking for, but you know he has it. "I need—I need—“
"Let go," he murmurs against you, the roughness in it vibrating up into your belly. "I dare you."
There's still a little bit of you functioning on autopilot, just enough to tell you that when he murmurs those words—vibrations rattling up your cunt and into your chest—you're completely done for.
It’s merely a few seconds later that your high reaches its peak and he just keeps lapping as you shake apart beneath him with an intensity you've never felt before in your life—orgasm shredding you apart at the seams. Your thighs clamp around his face, your eyes squeezed shut, ears ringing so loud you barely register his low, muttered praises: "good girl," "so good," "there you go."
You’re fairly positive your legs will never be able to support you again when you finally come back down, feeling entirely like jelly as he pulls back, tongue flicking over his lips to clean off whatever's left of you.
And without thinking, you grab him and pull him up, crashing your lips against his in a messy, desperate kiss. He tastes like you, like him, like something you can't quite describe—and it makes everything feel intense and unbearably real all at once.
He gives you a moment, as if letting you recover, just languidly kissing you back—and you have to be honest with yourself and admit that this kind of makes you want to scream.
"A disconnect," he smirks against your mouth, the tone still smug. You manage a weak smack to his shoulder, though it does nothing to wipe the satisfaction off his face. "Still sure you're broken?"
You hate that he's right. Hate that he's managed to pull a reaction from you that you didn't think was possible. But as you sit there, shaky and spent, you know you can't deny the truth: no, you're not broken.
"Not broken." You whisper back. "You will be though, if you don't stop smirking at me like that."
#SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS❄️#oh daddy riddle. whence shall it be my turn#this is the type of tom i would take the frontlines for#alongside lucius we shall fight to the death#sorry for being unhinged as fuck#goodbye#tom riddle#harry potter#tom riddle smut#tom riddle x reader#tomriddle smut#tomriddlesmut#slytherin boys#tomriddlexreader#tom x reader#tom riddle x oc#tom smut#hufflepuff reader#hufflepuff#slytherin boys x reader#slytherinboys#slytherin#tom riddle x you#tomriddle x you#tomriddle x reader#tomriddle#theo riddle#riddle smut#riddle brothers#tom marvolo riddle
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
every bat kid is cursed with the plague that is their friends think that their siblings are unbelievably attractive (mainly because everyone in the wayne family could be models if they really wanted to) even if it’s just baseless attraction with no intention to pursue
roy: so your brother, he’s pretty cute isn’t he?
dick: you are so much older than him roy, you have a kid! and why would i agree with you!?
roy: but—
dick: go near him and i will break the golden rule
—
kori: so, how has dick been lately —
jason: kori, for my well being and mental state i do not wanna imagine one of my best friends with my brother, just give him a phone call - i can’t with the swooning this early in the morning
—
kon: damn, i mean i know he tried to kill you… but your brother is real metal y’know what i mean?
tim: what are you yapping about?!
kon: i wanna fuck your brother tim, jeez you’re dense
tim: jason? the.. REDHOOD? YOU WANNA- NO!!!!??
—
jon: damian, ever notice how dick and tim —
damian: finish that sentence and i will maim you
—
steph: cass is hot
duke: no…
steph: what? you’re saying she’s not??
duke: dude, she’s my sister, be so fr
—
this also applicable to bruce wayne, because why wouldn’t it ??
clark: your dad—
cass pulling out bright green knife from out of nowhere: no.
#dc#cass is a daddy’s girl#bruce was born to be a girls dad - sorry#dick grayson#jason todd#tim drake#damian wayne#bruce wayne#stephanie brown#cassandra cain#duke thomas#roy harper#koriand'r
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
I’ll never stop thinking about Hugh’s slutty little waist
#oldermen#my husband#zaddy#older men do it better#aesthetic#hugh jackman x y/n#hugh jackman is daddy#hugh jackman x you#hugh jackman x reader#hugh jackman smut#hugh jackman imagines#hugh jackman#wolverine xmen#wolverine#wolverine x reader#huge jackman#bark bark woof grrr#daddy sorry daddy sorry daddy sorry#feral for him#he’s yummy#he’s so fine#daddy af#slutty waist
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
oooo to be simon's partner who is fully aware of what he does, having learned all of the shit (both good and bad) he's done once things started looking like y'all were going to be more than the occasional hookup because to be with him is to always be prepared for the worst and it's best you be well informed before making it official because once you're his, he's not letting go.
you don't bring it up much, no want to know anything past if he's coming home now or in a few months time and it's all well and good until one day, you wake with your patience threadbare thin and his usual protectiveness seemed so suffocatingly overbearing that you snap if the way he keeps breathing down your fucking neck is how he treats the people they keep for interrogation and his face tightens in an instant, usual warm eyes hardened into the cold steel of a winter's night.
"you'd know if that were the case."
you hadn't been serious, of course, just pulled a stereotype out of the many military movies he likes to watch just to grunt at all the inaccuracies in it but now seeing his game face slip on so seamlessly, especially after only ever having experiencing his softer side-
heat licks up the sides of your jaw at the thought of being at the receiving end of that. he's already naturally intense, his attention usually feeling like being under a magnifying glass but what if- what if that focus became a crosshair?
a thrum courses through you, from the tips of your toes up to the crown, akin to the hum of electricity surging through power lines. would he cause you pain and lap at the tears that wet your cheeks? would he get off on it? bringing you to your knees after only ever bringing him to his?
"i can see the smoke comin' out ya ears, luv. gotta make sure this is somethin' you actually want, i can be quite thorough."
(the eggs burn on the stove after letting him fuck you on the countertop until your eyes cross and you see two of him.)
#being manhandled like valeria and what's her name on mw2 would have my holes THROBBING im sorry#i think it's the daddy issues in me idk#him tag teaming in the 141 because if he can't get through you then kyle will#o- i'm dizzy#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley smut#call of duty#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
this underwear was too ripped to salvage but i thought you guys might like a ripping video!
#sorry it’s been so long since i’ve posted but i’m back at school!!!#cnc k!nk#cnc free use#cnc kidnapping#soft cnc#corruption kink#cnc brat#cnc stalking#cnc fr33use#cnc somno#cnc drugging#rough cnc#fr33use slvt#fr33use k!nk#fr33 us3#fr33use#group fr33use#g00nfuel#g00n trigger#needy wh0re#daddy’s wh0re#dumb wh0re#desperate wh0re#breeding k1nk#submisive and breedable#br33dable#br33d1ng#daddy’s brat#cnc daddy#sp@nking
897 notes
·
View notes
Text
The most powerful force user to ever live (smol)
#luke skywalker#obi wan kenobi#the most powerful force user to ever live (with daddy)#star wars#art#child luke skywalker#baby luke skywalker#ben kenobi#ben was luke’s true father figure and i won’t be convinced otherwise#obi wan in kenobi series: eh sorry luke gotta go offworld for a couple of weeks to have an adventure. see ya around!#obi wan in legends: someone dare to touch my baby? annihilated.#his toy speeder was broken and he’s sad? i sell my last food to buy him a new one.#anyone who wishes to breathe near luke will need a kriffing license. otherwise i shoot on sight.#quick sketch#my art
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
There’s something so fun about casual inspection with subs who are needy all the time.
Like walking up to them and asking if you can take a quick peak and immediately seeing them go red. Pulling the waistband of their underwear away from their skin and peaking in, seeing aroused parts all needy and desperate, clearly turned on long before I even spoke to them, seeing how flustered and embarrassed they get. Getting permission to reach in and feel how hard or wet or desperate they are, licking my hand afterwards to taste how much they were thinking of me. Asking if I can feel their chest and having my thumbs find hard nipples, desperate to be tweaked and pinched. Getting to hear desperate whines, wanting me to touch them more so so badly, but I just walk away, leaving them even more desperate than before.
I’d love to repeat the cycle over and over few hours and see just how worked up I can get them before I relieve them.
#call me inspector gadget the way I be inspecting it#and by it#let’s just say#your peanits#I’m stoned I’m sorry#t4t ns/fw#ftm t4t#t4t#t4t mlm#t4t nsft#ftm nsft#ftm daddy#ftm dom#t4t puppy#ftm ns/fw#t4t kink#t4t dom#ftm switch#fat ftm#ftm bear
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
BREEDING KINK WITH CLARK KENT !
a/n : very smutty obvi, fem!reader, daddy kink. mating press. enjoy >.<
it was hot. way too hot that your decorated rooms aroma was filled only with the smell of you and clarks sweaty skin sticking to each other, mixed with the breath hitching pants that came out of the two of you. your pleasure was only heightened with the feeling of him on top of you, weighing and pressing you down, making you feel so..caged in. he was unconsciously forcing you to really feel just how deep he was inside of you, thrusting into your soaked walls with his girthy dick and muscular arms. “haah baby, can feel you squeezing me so tight..” you were but it was only because of how pressured you were feeling, having to look straight into clarks eyes as he plows into you with his intoxicated gaze. he makes your head so blurry with the way he uses his dick and doesn’t even know it, “ mm s’good, feel you filling me.. so deep!” you whine out with your hands resting on top of his neck, hips senselessly flowing along with his as they move back and forth on the bed. “mm wait, t-too deep s’gonna reach-“ you sob, it’s like you could feel his dick messing up your insides, overstimulating but all the more satisfying.
you push at his abdomen with weak arms and squeezed shut eyes, getting cut off with a moan being pulled from your throat as clark brings you back with a hand on your jaw. “reach where hm? gonna reach your tummy? huh gonna-gonna let me give you a baby?” he was basically blabbering at this point, too pussydrunk to think rationally. and you mindlessly nodded your head along with your boyfriend. “yes please clark! gonna make you a daddy!” the sound of you and clarks skin bouncing off each other was disgusting, the slapping of his balls against your ass and the creaks of the bed under you.
clarks pace gets faster as he keeps thrusting into you, cock almost kissing your cervix while you hear a flow of pleads from above you. “you’ll let me cum inside right? promise it will feel so good angel-you have to let me fill you u-up..” and he just sounds so cute when he begs like that, of course he can, anything he wants. “yesyes please! wanna feel it so bad daddy..” that nickname only flustering him more and making your boyfriend bottom out in your pussy, forehead pressing against yours, “fuckfuck-“ seeing his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth in a frown. dick sloppily thrusting into you when you feel ropes of cum shoot into you, warm and in an abundance, you scratch at his back and squeeze your thighs around clarks waist.
“mph makin me feel so’good clark!” you say bucking your hips into him, making you feel his length so much deeper in your cunt and only making clarks whimpers louder as he finishes cumming inside. “too much-“ he winced, unconsciously still thrusting into you slowly while you rub your sensitive bud, cumming all over his dick with a cry as he holds your back. clark lifts you slightly until your sat on his lap, his face in the warm crook of your neck breathing heavily. you were sure your insides were a mess, filled to the brim of clark and you just finished too. your boyfriend looks up at you with his doe eyes and his slight smile, “what?” you giggle to him and he kisses the skin of your chest. “thank you sweetheart.” laughing even more when you realize he’s thanking you for letting him cum inside.
#clark kent x reader <3#clark kent x reader#clark kent smut#clark kent smallville#clark kent#dc smut#was this cringe sometimes I don’t do daddy kink with the justice it deserves im sorry
596 notes
·
View notes
Text
POV: When you get all dolled up to go out with the Casino Overlord but some asshole tries to ruin your night so you end up beating said asshole up with a crowbar 😊💅
For context please consider reading my fanfiction called Lucky Bastard. This scene is from Chapter 6. (click here)
#daddy's little monster#skkskskks sorry#huskerdust#angel dust x husk#hazbin hotel#angel dust#fanfiction#husk#hellaverse#huskerdust fanfiction#overlord husk#hazbin hotel fanart#lucky bastard#poppyfieldart
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
i drew everybody off the top of my head over that one screenshot of animatic dying
#bfb#tpot#two tpot#bfb four#ii mephone4#clock itft#burner daddy long legs#one airy#osc art#one object show#burner#itft#inanimate insanity#myart#IM SORRY LMAO
2K notes
·
View notes