ziggymars

[ziggymars]

Hi, @pyros-hollow. Let's clear the air.

On May 5th, you sent me these anon messages: 

This is how I responded to you: 

The next day, you messaged me privately to apologize for making me uncomfortable. I thanked you for your apology, and reiterated that I did not mind if you wanted to write the same trope as me, but that I would like my versions of these works to remain mine. I expressed that I would have preferred if you had talked to me first. 

I read your fic, I mentioned that I noticed a lot of similarities to my own writing, but that plagiarism can be tricky when you’re admittedly very inspired by another writer. I told you that this is where communication plays a huge role in avoiding these uncomfortable situations. Finally, I told you that I would like it if you unlinked your story from mine on ao3, and that you and I could work together to fix the parts that feel too close for comfort. 

Initially I told you I would highlight portions I felt could be fixed. Upon rereading your story, I told you that it was not just specific lines, but it was the overall tone, structure, and premise that, in my opinion, strongly mirrored my writing. I told you I recognize that interpretation is subjective, but with all of this combined - emotional inflection, the way scenes are framed, sometimes dialogue and even the narrative voice that the story was written in - to me, closely echoed what I wrote. I told you it felt like a paraphrasing rewrite of my writing with slight changes. 

I reiterated again that I do not own these tropes or general ideas, but the way they are expressed is something that is unique to every writer. I told you that my intention with this conversation was not to discourage you from writing, but to help you see the line between being inspired by work and unintentionally recreating it. I asked that instead of changing things line by line, to consider how you would write that story in the case that you had not read my work. 

You bucked me every step of the way. You were not receptive to any of my advice, and you came up with multiple excuses to sidestep taking responsibility for your mistake. So finally, I told you that I was uncomfortable with this conversation, so I would be removing myself from the situation. I wished you the best with your writing going forward. Then, I blocked you. I did not talk about this on tumblr beyond answering your anon above.

You messaged me on Discord afterward, telling me that you felt horrible about making me uncomfortable. I did not respond to you. 

Three days after this interaction, you posted this: 

You responded to anons mostly in favor of me, but some in favor of you, too. You also posted screenshots of our private conversation, which is against Tumblr’s terms of service. 

You also admitted to making these harassing posts out of  “petty revenge”. 

At this point, my friend messaged you in good faith and advised that you take down these posts tagged with #drama and other things like that, understanding that this was a painful situation for us both, but that your choice to post these things was harmful for all parties involved. You were receptive to her, and took down these posts. 

But by the end of May, you were sending anons about me to the confessions blog. The specific use of the word “greedy” gave you away. You used that word multiple times when you posted about me on your own blog. 

These last two “confessions” were posted within the last couple days.

You were careless enough to like some of the posts on the confessions blog (these ones or other ones I can’t remember) which is why you were blocked by my friend who messaged you to take down those posts, as well as some other people. We’re not a clique, btw. Besides that one friend who messaged you, nobody knew what happened between you and I. 

So, to sum it all up - you have: 

Intentionally or not, plagiarized my fic. I attempted to deal with this privately, but…

YOU took things public, posting about me in an attempt to validate yourself or send hate to me. You posted screenshots of our private conversation - again, something that goes against Tumblr’s terms of service.

You have publicly interacted with the confessions blog, which more writers beyond just me block - something they are well within their right to do.

You’ve also written incest, lol. No judgment here, obviously. I do think it’s interesting you want sympathy from the kink-shaming confessions blog to validate yourself. They think you’re just as disgusting as I am.

And publicly admitted to using AI to write your fics 👇

And you’re bent out of shape that people are blocking you. That is a result of your own behavior.

I did not want to make this a public thing. I let it go until now, because you can’t. But since you want to make this public, let’s make this public. Let everyone see the role you played in this situation. I was patient with you. I was generous. I was kind. You made me uncomfortable, and I tapped out of the situation - this is how you chose to retaliate.

For someone who claimed to love me and respect me so much, this sure doesn’t feel like it. And I get that you’re my number one hater now - cute, btw. I’m glad you’re so proud of that. But I don’t think you ever respected me to begin with. Your behavior is appalling.

[ziggymars]

I FORGOT I HAVE SOME BOSS!ROMAN ROY INMY DRAFTS UNFINISHE HDUDHFJDSFBOSDFAOID

[ziggymars]

Enemies to lovers Mahone X Michaels twin! Sister 🙌🏻🙌🏻🙌🏻

The state of my country is abysmal but at least I can focus on writing this prompt 😔✌️

[ziggymars]

It's Juneteenth yall. And I'm not letting this day go unmarked.

Black people fight for everybody. We stand in solidarity with women, lgbt people, poor people all over the world of every skin color and background. Every religion and nationality.

Today, stand with us. Be with us. Tell a black person you love them. Hug a black person (with consent). Ask that hot black girl out today. Make a black person smile. Black lives matter to everybody and you matter to us.

Stand with us on Juneteenth like we stand with you all year round, and I hope a happy Pride month continues for all of us

💝

[ziggymars]

happy Juneteenth to black fans in fandom specifically 🫶🏿 love yall

[ziggymars]

Me and the 2 other Mahone fans are anxiously waiting for more Mahone works from you 😝 you write him so yummily, I fear

This ask was the best birthday gift 🥹❤️ omg. Ily.

Shoutout the three anxiously waiting Mahone fans, you will be fed. I have adhd and been having trouble getting on medication (because of the adhd 😭) and managing all of my tasks. But this gives me so much motivation to write something this week 🫶🏻

[ziggymars]

i so desperately wanna be fucked while intoxicated because of how fucking pliant and helpless i’d be. just a glorified sex toy making pretty noises, both too weak and too dazed to even try and say no. forced to take a man’s cock for as long as he wants.

[ziggymars]

what real suffering looks like

[ziggymars]

I don’t care if that flops, the William Fichtner girlies need to be fed

[ziggymars]

The Birthday Party (18+)

pairing: fathers best friend!Alex Mahone x Reader

summary: Agent Alex Mahone is your fathers best friend, his right hand man. It’s your father’s birthday party, and Alex just can’t help himself when he sees you in that pretty dress.

warnings: significant age gap, daddy kink, dead dove DO NOT EAT, fingering, kind of voyeuristic.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: I literally cannot get this man out of my head, he is tormenting me. I need him. I need him in ways that physics can’t even explain. I’m absolutely gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. I’m sorry to my parents. I’m sorry to my therapist. I’m sorry to William Fichtner. I need to be sedated. By the way, if anyone wants me to go back to the big font I can, I just am shallow and like how the teeny text looks. If you have any requests for this man please send them, I will probably write them. He has a chokehold on me that is astronomical….. Anyways… Forgive me and enjoy.

In a peaceful suburban neighborhood, the sun had just started to fall towards the horizon, throwing golden orange rays along the rooftops. Alex Mahone, one who had gone to the darkest corners of his mind for his work, drew comfort in the simplicity of this setting. His best friends home, where laughter bounced around the walls, a low rumbling of a birthday party gently flowed into the evenings air.

Alex Mahone. A man of many talents. Not all of which he revealed to the world. Alex Mahone… with the strong jaw and the piercing blue eyes. He had an air about him that commanded attention whether he wanted it or not.

He had arrived ahead of time to help organize the birthday party, his muscular arms assisting with the moving of tables, chairs. The guest of honor was his best friend, your father, a man who had known him in good times and bad.

But the real party, the one that really got Alex’s blood racing, was the secret that only the two of you share.

You watched him a little too long from the kitchen window, heart leaping at the sight. Months of stolen trysts had only served to fuel the flame between you. You carried the weight of the lie happily, it only served to spur on your desire. No matter how shameful it felt sleeping with your dad’s best friend.

The party was nearly in full swing when Alex finally saw you, cutting through throngs of people. A beer clutched in your hands and a shy smile clad on your lips. Your eyes met and for a moment, the entire world melted away. The laughter of party guests faded into background noise as he crouched down a bit, his taller frame towering as he breathed near your ear “Let’s get out of here for a little while, yeah?” The rough tone sent shivers down your spine. You knew exactly what he meant. You always did.

You only nodded, allowing him to lead you away from the crowd, into the house and then the bathroom. All the while, your eyes both scanning the room for any lingering glances that might spot the two of you leaving.

The sound of the door clicking closed beside you was almost deafening in the way it silenced the small space. Alex wasted no time, he hoisted you onto the sink, his hands trailing up your already parting thighs. He peppered soft, wet kisses at your neck, fresh goosebumps rising in the wake of his lips. You could feel pressure, wetness pooling betwixt your thighs, a familiar sign of just how much you wanted him. Alex made you wetter than any man you had ever been with, a fact that he knew. A fact that made pride swell in his chest every time he thought of it.

With an uncharacteristically gentle tug, Alex brought your sundress up to your waist, marveling at what you wore in anticipation of him being able to get a peek. At the sight of the wet spot forming on the soft fabric he sucked in a labored breath. His eyes darkening as he rubbed a circle against it with his thumb. “I’ve been thinking about this since this morning.” He breathed out, his words heating against your cheeks. “Have you, sweetheart? It looks like you have.”

With the way he said it, how it sounded coming from his mouth— your lips parted and your jaw fell slack as you nodded. Always so submissive when you found yourself in his grasp. “Yes, Daddy.”

That earned you a low, pointed “Good girl.” as he maneuvered his fingers into the fabric of your panties and pushed them to the side. Baring your wet, puffy folds to the cool air of the bathroom. You gasped at the sensation and curled your hands around his broad shoulders as the pads of his fingers began to run along your dripping slit.

You whimpered and clung onto him tighter, gripping onto his shirt as he started to explore, rubbing against you agonizingly slow. “That’s it.” Alex cooed, his eyes trained on your every breath and expression. “Let me take care of you.”

Alex’s fingers parted your slick folds, feeling the heat emanating from your aching core. A low, quiet groan tumbled around in his chest as he teased along your entrance, coating his digits in your arousal. Your body responded as it always did for him, eagerly. Legs falling apart wider and your hips undulating into his touch, silently begging him for “more, more, more.”

“Oh, fuck,” it was strangled and followed by your name, soft and hot against your ear. “You’re dripping for me. Soaked.” He circled your throbbing clit gently with the rough pad of his thumb, just enough pressure to make you gasp and buck against him. His other hand slid up your side to cup at your breast, kneading your soft flesh through the thin fabric of your dress. Alex’s eyes were glazed, hungry, as he watched your face intently, taking in every single hint of pleasure he could illicit from you. For his eyes only. Greedy, greedy man.

When he finally decided to stop teasing and push two fingers into you, you let out a strangled whine of his name which he was forced to swallow with his lips. His tongue dipping into your waiting mouth, groaning like he had been waiting for years to get a taste. His strokes were agonizingly slow at first. Teasing and calculated as he curled his fingers upwards just how he knows you like. But as you grew wetter and your hips bucked towards his hand, they gathered pace and urgency. The sensation sent shivers of delight through your every nerve ending.

You pulled away from each others lips and your eyes both fell down to his forearm, which you promptly grabbed for, and then to where his fingers worked inside of you. The sight heated up your cheeks and your head lolled back towards the mirror behind you, lips parted in a silent cry of “Alex!” Always a quiet litany of ‘Alex, Alex, Alex’. His favorite sound, besides the sounds your pussy made when it swallowed his fingers or his cock.

You gathered your shaky legs around his waist, attempting to pull him closer to you so you could bury your face into his shoulder, the heat of your pleasured mewls heating up his skin through his crisp, white button down. Your throat threatened to close as the pressure built. Your world narrowing to the feeling of his fingers as he expertly edged you closer to your breaking point. His lips brushed along your jawline, your cheek and then your ear as he murmured, “That’s it, baby. Take Daddy’s fingers.” His words made you sigh against his shirt, arousal dripping onto the counter now as his fingers repeatedly nudged against the special spot deep inside of you. “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you? Want another?”

You frantically nodded against his shirt, a babbled string of “yes!” and “please!” and “Alex!” tumbling from your lips. He’s not cruel, he obliges. Pushing a third finger into you, relishing in the way your pussy pulsed and stretched around his working fingers. He curled them just right, stroking them in a way that made stars explode behind your eyes and your toes curl and uncurl over and over around nothing. Pleasured tears pooled in your eyes and you had to bite down on his shoulder to stop from crying out and alerting the entire party outside of your unholy activities.

His palm pressed against your slicked clit, rubbing tight circles as he fingered you, hard and fast. The obscene sounds of your wetness echoed around the bathroom. It was a wonder how he was able to keep himself so composed, even during all of this. Your breath was hitching in your throat and your back arched. Soft whimpers spilled all over his shirt, he could feel your tremblings. Feel the way you clenched around his invading digits.

“Oh, yeah.” He grunted, “You’re cumming.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a guess. He knew. And by the time he had said it, it had already struck you. Your body was shaking but Alex just held you tight to him, muttering sweet praises into your ear as you felt the waves of pleasure rocking through you. “Good girl.” A gentle coo that made you want to beg for more. But you didn’t, you could beg later tonight when you sneak off to his apartment.

When the shaking finally subsided, he pressed a soft kiss to your temple and gently wiped the tears from your face, his gaze never breaking yours. He then gave your pussy a soft slap before he slipped your panties down your legs and into the pocket of his jeans. Alex held out his hands for you and helped you off of the counter, ironing out the folds in your dress that he had created. You could hear commotion from outside, everyone gathering together for a family photo. He just smiled at you and said “Run along and go smile for the pictures, sweetheart.”

“Come with.” You protested with a whine, trying to tug him along by his shirt.

“I can’t.” He said, eyes drifting down to his cock that was clearly straining hard against his pants. “Just give me a couple minutes to do some long division.” It sounded like a jest, but it wasn't one. “I’ll find you, okay?”

Finally, “Okay, Daddy.” It came out as a huff, quick to add “But we’re not done.”

“Of course not.” Accompanied by a wink as he opened the door for you. You begrudgingly stepped out by yourself, your cheeks flushed, your knees weak and your mind reeling with nothing but Alex and his fingers.

[ziggymars]

Primal play Toto Wolff? 👉👈

This awakened something inside of me ….. give me a week boo 😏 🌲

[ziggymars]

just having fun thinking about gyno!roman on this fine evening

After thoroughly walking his fingers over the flesh of your breast, Roman squeezes your shoulder. “You can sit up, now,” he says, now finished with your breast examination. You sit up, breathing out a shaky breath. Your legs dangle over the edge of the table, bouncing your mismatched sock-covered feet against the metal. Roman rounds the table, then pulls up a stool and his instrument stand, covered in paper and sterile utensils. “Say ahh.” “What?” “Your legs, genius. Open them,” he says, but doesn’t give you time to actually do so. Roman lifts one of your legs and puts your foot in the stirrup, then does the same to your other leg. His hands are strong on your body, fingertips digging into your flesh. "I suppose you could open your mouth, too. Vagina, mouth. No real difference there." His words, how he moves your body like a puppet. It feels like a blatant display of dominance, a display of who has the upper hand here. It makes you sick and makes you hot. Roman sits on the black stool and spreads his legs wide, thick bulge evident in his black slacks. There’s a box of blue nitrile gloves on his instrument stand, and you wince at the sharp snapping sounds as he puts them on, wiggling his fingers as he tugs the material down his wrist. “Ready?” “No.” “Oh, fuck off. You’ll do fine,” he tells you. “You always do. Scoot down.” You scoot a little down the table, looking up at the ceiling. Roman scoffs and rolls his eyes before standing up, sliding both hands under your paper gown before lifting you and situating your bare ass right at the edge of the examining table. “Yeahhh, there she is. Oh, that's perfect. You shaved for me.” Your cheeks heat up at the comment and Roman’s subsequent snickering. Before warning you of what’s to come, Roman dives right in, touching, pressing against the soft folds of your labia with gloved fingers. “Just relax,” he whispers. “It’s just me. Doctor fuckin’ Roy, no big deal. Relax.” You interlace your fingers, resting your hands on your tummy as Roman feels around, experimentally rubbing your clit so he can watch your reaction. The twitching in your thighs, your breath hitching in your throat. “Good, good girl.” Roman reaches for the Surgilube and the speculum, then squirts a generous amount of the jelly on the tool. He turns it to the side before inserting it all the way inside you, eliciting a sharp gasp from you. “You need to relax,” he reminds you with a voice firmer than before, before widening the instrument. With those loud clicking sounds comes an increase in pressure, you’re tightening around the speculum. “You’ve got a niiiice fuckin' cervix, you know that?”

[ziggymars]

Tear You Apart

Roman hatefucks you (2.1k words).

Tags - smut, rough/violent sex, mean!roman, and perhaps dark!roman too if you squint (I’m serious. Don’t underestimate him) lack of proper foreplay (intentional), unprotected piv, spanking, biting, choking, hitting, degradation, bruises, dacryphilia, hatefuck, masturbation, fingering, creampie, come play, fearplay, threats of violence, typical Roman sexism, Roman spits in your mouth, orgasm denial, Roman denies you of some basic physiological needs in maslow’s hierarchy, a singular atom of aftercare, one (1) Depeche Mode reference. Probably forgot some things but if you’re here then you know what you want, and I know what you want, and we both know you’re gonna read anyway.

A/N - received a message from god and i did what had to be done. @cum-a-calla said “k but imagine Roman talking about how much he hates you while being violently railed. swoon” so here’s this. Straight fucking, beginning to end. I love you @cum-a-calla I think you’re just the fucking best 😻🥰 and @beefrobeefcal do your eyes ever hurt from how much I abuse them? Thank you for lending them to me again and again 💜🥩🐛

Roman’s swaying left and right in his swivel chair, nursing a glass of whiskey when you open his bedroom door. “You’re late,” he says, slurring his words ever so slightly. His eyes are bloodshot, hair mussed, tie loosened and his white shirt unbuttoned. Roman takes his silver watch off and sets it down on the end table next to him. 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. “I know.”

“You texted 10:30,” Roman reminds you. “And it’s midnight.” 

“I know,” you repeat. “I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.” 

“Better fuckin’ not. C’mon, chop chop. You know what you’re here for.” 

You do know; the same thing you’re always here for. Roman downs the rest of his drink, then pours another, and this time offers it to you. You decline politely, a quiet and demure no, thank you with a gentle shake of your head as you take off your shirt. Roman shrugs, drinks that one too. He feels lightheaded. 

You shuck off your pants, and Roman takes care to help you with your bra, fingers tracing over the indents it’s left in your skin. “All of it,” he says, smacking your ass, right over that large, rashy bruise he left last time. It was a week ago, maybe. Is that correct? Is that the last time you did this? Roman can never keep track. It doesn’t matter anyway. You’re just as hungry for Roman’s violence as he is to inflict it upon you. 

You shimmy the cotton underwear down your hips and your legs, now fully bare before Roman. Exposed. Roman sidles up behind you, his veiny hands on your waist. He urges you closer to the mirror and turns you around slowly, admiring the marks he made on you last time. Bite marks, lots of bites, and god, how he loves sinking his teeth into your skin. There’s bruises darkening your skin, though not all are visible. Some you feel instead of see. There’s the odd scratch, maybe the fault of his unclipped nails or perhaps the blunt metal edge of his watch he doesn’t always remember to take off. Roman watches you in the mirror, the eye contact intimidating. He looks like he wants to eat you alive.

Roman presses his fingertips against a bruise on your hip, causing you to wince. It’s an odd shape, odd location too. “I like this one,” Roman says. “Pretty.” It’s a compliment, almost. Almost. 

It begins here. Roman separates your hands that are held together, nervously fidgeting with yourself. He takes your forearm and twists it behind your back, pushes it up, up, even higher yet. You can see in the mirror how he smiles, his eyes darkening when you start to wince in pain. “You’re hurting me,” you whine. “You’re - ah, my arm–”

“I know it hurts you,” Roman taunts. “I could break it just like this. Fuckin’ snap it. I think about it sometimes.”

His words make you sick. Make you breathe funny, make you feel all icky inside. He fucking loves it, how your breath hitches in your throat, and how he can feel it happen under his palm. And when you’re afraid like that, you squeeze around him harder, walls pulsing, clenching…

Roman forces you down onto the bed, your face buried in his pillows. You lie on your stomach and he parts your thighs with his knee, still holding you in place, now with both of your arms bent into place. Roman holds them in one hand and kneels at your side, and with his free hand he rubs over the swell of your ass. He parts your cheeks, admires your tight asshole and your snatch. He traces those pretty folds of yours and rubs your clit, listening to those quiet gasps you swallow. He wonders when you’ll - and yup, there it is. You’re writhing on the bed, grinding your hips into his palm. Roman smiles at this. The rules, you’re breaking the rules. “I’m not gonna make you come,” he reminds you. 

“I know,” you mumble.

“I’m only getting you wet.”

“I know.” 

“Then what do you think you’re doing?”

Silence. Roman removes his fingers from your cunt and spanks you hard - once, twice, three times total. You wail in pain, humming rhythmically in an attempt to soothe yourself of the ache, that awful sting. Roman traces the outline of his puffy handprint on your ass. “You just don’t get it, do you? It doesn’t matter how many times we do this little dance. You never learn who calls the shots. Un-fucking-believable,” he huffs. “I don’t give a shit if it hurts - you can forget about getting wet now. Spread your legs.”

Roman situates himself behind you as you spread your legs, though it’s not enough. Roman holds the backs of your knees in his hands and spreads you wider, the cool air a jarring sensation against your hot, pulsing sex. He unbuckles his belt and tosses it on the floor where it lands with a loud thump. He undoes his pants next, the zzzzip noise slow and loud as the metallic teeth separate one by one. Roman pulls his already-hard cock out and before entering you, brings his palm to your mouth. “Don’t say I don’t do anything for you. Spit.” 

You lift your head and spit into his palm, and he strokes his cock with it before pressing his blunt head against your entrance. You squeeze your eyes shut and suck in a breath, anticipating what’s to come. 

Roman thrusts violently into you, the stretch and the burn causing you to squeal. You scramble for hold on the sheets, the pillows - anything to ground yourself as you take the pain he gives to you. Roman grabs a fistfull of your hair and yanks, “C’mon,” he goads. “You can do better than that.”

Roman pulls out of you all the way and plunges right back into you, harder than before. You bite into a comforter to muffle a sob, the first tears squeezing from your eyes. It hurts, it all really fucking hurts, and each time is worse than the last. 

He wriggles his forearm under your tummy and hikes your hips up, Roman on his knees behind you. “Fuck yourself on it,” he says. “Go on and fuck my cock. Show me that you’re good at one thing, one simple thing.” 

Following his command, you rock yourself forward, then back again. It’s slow, as that’s all you can stomach right now. The pain hasn’t yet dissipated and each movement, each twitch of Roman’s cock feels like a knife against your insides. The pain is fiery, too intense to focus on anything but. 

“Are you even trying?”

“Yes,” you whimper, till rocking, inch by little inch. “I’m trying.”

Too slow. You’re too fucking slow, and too fucking tedious. Roman rolls his eyes, “You’re fucking pathetic,” he spits, words like poison. He takes your hips in his hands and pulls you hard against his cock, his hips slamming against your ass as he sets a brutal pace. “I have to do everything for you. What can you do, huh? Tell me, say ‘nothing, Roman’.”

“Nothing,” you repeat, voice thick with your tears. “Nothing, Roman.”

“That’s right. Don’t you ever forget it, you goddamn useless fucking cunt.” Roman’s nails are digging, cutting into your skin as he fucks you like an animal. “You’re good for nothing but getting fucked. Fucking whore, you’re fucking nothing without me. Nothing.”

You nod, sobbing as he pounds into you. You’re completely powerless, just how he wants you. Roman bares his teeth as he leans over you to wrap his hand around the column of your neck, pulling you up and against his chest as he fucks up into you. Roman squeezes your throat, bruising the soft flesh as he bites into your shoulder hard enough so that he draws blood. The coppery taste, the crimson dotting your skin. He licks it away. 

He’s choking you. He’s choking you and you’re wheezing, coughing and sputtering as you try desperately to wriggle your fingers under his palm. You succeed in this, or perhaps Roman lets you have a small win - either way, you free yourself from him and crawl forward on the bed, reaching for Roman’s glass of water on the nightstand. With shaky hands, you bring the glass to your lips and take little sips, all you can handle and you’re still spilling onto yourself. Roman glares at you as he gets off and rounds the bed, then takes the glass away from you. “Did I say you could have that?”

“I was ch-”

Roman lays a brutal slap against your cheek, less of a smack and more of a beating. His palm is so sharp it makes you cry harder. Fuck, he loves when you do that. 

“Shut the fuck up. You choke if I want you to choke,” he bites. “Don’t pull that shit again. God, I fucking hate you.”

Roman forces you onto your back and spreads your legs again. He enters you just as harshly as he did before, finding that same, punishing, unrelenting pace as he fucks you deep, the head of his cock kissing against your cervix with every one of his thrusts. 

You choke on your sobs, hyperventilating as tears stream down your cheeks. You feel lightheaded, numb everywhere but where pleasure and pain flows between your hips. Breathe, you need to breathe. 

“Stupid fucking slut. I fucking h- oh, fuck. Shit. I fucking hate you. Jesus Christ, I really fucking hate you, you know that?” 

You cry and cry, burying your head into Roman’s pillows to hide your face. Roman pulls the pillows away from you and throws them onto the floor, then grabs your face, digging his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks as he squeezes your jaw. “Hey. You fucking look at me when I use you. Right here. You focus right here.” 

Your face is puffy with tears, eyes red and tear-stained, lashes all wet. Roman wears a crooked smirk as he digs his fingers harder into your cheeks so that your mouth opens in a little O shape, then spits into your mouth. “Cunt. I fucking hate you, oh, I fucking hate you.” 

Roman pounds into you, hovering over your body to cage you in. You’re gonna feel all of him, and nothing else. He pins your wrists together above your head, his face panting into the skin of your neck as he fucks you so brutally. “Oh my god. Oh, fuck. Fuck,” he moans.

If you focus hard, you can feel his pubic bone against your clit. You follow that sensation, rocking your hips to meet his thrusts, chasing that sweet friction. You could come. You could. 

“Nuh-uh. Nice fucking try,” Roman half-laughs. “You’re not subtle.” 

Standing before you, Roman grabs you by the ankles and tugs you closer to himself. He puts your legs on his shoulders and ruts into you relentlessly, now chasing his orgasm. He could’ve gone longer than this, but he’s not gonna let you come on his cock. 

Roman feels that fiery pleasure build quickly in his belly, balls tightening, indicating that release is just moments away. “Ohhhh, fuck,” Roman moans gutturally, hanging his head back as he milks himself entirely, spurting rope after rope of his hot come.

You feel cheated. You feel used. You’re a crying mess when Roman pulls out of you, his spend spilling onto his bed. “R-Roman,” you whimper, violent sobs wracking through your body. Roman gathers his spend with his fingers and paints it over your cunt, lips all swollen and sore with the ferocity of his fucking. “I need you, Roman.”

Roman leans over you, “Go fuck yourself,” he whispers in your ear. “I mean it. Fuck yourself on your fingers.”

You’re completely exhausted. Fucked out. But still, you reach for your center and gather Roman’s come on your fingertips and circle your clit, willing your release along. Writhing on the bed, chasing a pleasure only Roman can give to you. And your poor pussy is so sore, beaten and bruised by Roman. He watches you intently and with dark, loveless eyes, that vein bulging in the center of his forehead. He covers your mouth with his hand and brings the other to your cunt, pushing two fingers inside, gentler than before. He curls those fingers repeatedly as you rub circles around your clit and oh, there it is. You’re pulsing around his fingers, muffled moans signaling your orgasm. Roman works you through it and far past its end, only stopping when you’re a twitching shuddering wreck, a bug flailing on its back. Pathetic.

Roman pulls his fingers from you and shoves them past your lips, “Suck,” he murmurs, then presses his forehead against yours. You lick his fingers, tasting your own release mixed with Roman’s. “God, you’re so fucked up,” he murmurs in a saccharine tone, and the sympathy in his voice sounds almost genuine. “So fucked up. Why do you let me do this to you, huh?”

-

Roman tags ❤️

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson

@moth-maam56 @kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink

@romanarose @kappasbbgirl @magpiepills

@highinmiamiii @verstappensrealwife

@thesummerpetrichor @lilipads @luiscarrutherss @pastelpinkflowerlife @baronessvonglitter

@myromeow @ovaryacted @doll-0f-flesh @/always-andromeda

[ziggymars]

Hello! Could I request a Sainz x reader! fic where it’s the end of the F1 season and Carlos takes the reader on a much needed vacation and they go crazy after Carlos had put up a sex ban cause ge wanted to be fully concentrated on the races. Pls add cockwarming and riding his thighs (have you seen them, they’re MASSIVE)

okay this is coming next my friends

[ziggymars]

Heyyyyy! Loved your Lec fics. Would you be willing to do some Carlos Sainz fics?

yes I’d be very inclined to do so, if sent some scenario ideas about Mr. Sainz❤️

[ziggymars]

Where have you been all my life? Write more Leclerc pleaseeeee

mars 👽

just kidding

sure, suuuuure! inbox is open for any Charles requests 💌 perhaps Verstappen as well 🙊

[ziggymars]

Hey Ziggy <3 if you are compfortable with it could you maybe implement in a Timmy fic that he makes the reader squirt for the first time and finds it super hot and is very proud about that? :)

hello my love I know I'm like a year late answering this, I just posted something like this but about Charles Leclerc 😌❤️