Divizin

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im divizin and i’ve been reading fanfic + writing my own for like 7 years now but ive finally decided to go public and start taking requests!! i’ve always admired people with public writing blogs :3 these are the fandoms + characters i write for!!

[note: i may occasionally ocpost + i mainly (basically exclusively) write male characters + i am def searching for moots!!!]

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ATSV

•Miguel

•Hobie

•Peter B. Parker

COD

•Ghost

•Soap

•Price

AVATAR

•Jake

•Quaritch

DBH

•Connor

•Ralph

•Hank

FNAF

•William Afton

•Henry Emily

OW2

•Junkrat

•Roadhog

•Reaper

•Soldier 76

•Reinhardt

•Lifeweaver

•Genji

•Hanzo

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I WILL WRITE:

Smut, Angst, Whump, Fluff, Kink

I WILL NOT WRITE:

NSFW content featuring characters who are minors, Gore for the intent of arousal, Incest, Reqs falling under racial stereotypes, and most other basic DNI criteria. :]

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i want the old man. also shhh pretend like he isn’t a legit father and also IM SORRY THIS ONE IS SHORT

[CW: implied age gap, dom reader,]

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Relishing in the soft surprised grunt that Peter emits as you nudge your thigh between his, you begin your attack on his bare neck. “Can’t believe it,” You muttered breathlessly, your glossy-with-spit lips still halfway pressed against his skin.

“Can’t, uh, believe what?” Peter chokes out, beginning to absentmindedly grind against your thigh with a needy, curious fervor. He uses one hand to reach behind you and tug you closer by the small of your back. He’s glad you had spoken— had given him something to think about so he wouldn’t immediately bust in his pants.

“That after all this time, nobody’s sunken their teeth into such a fuckin’ catch of a man.” You hiss, punctuating your sentence with an ironic bite. He gasps and you push closer, your chests heaving against one another.

Now your hand is undoing his belt, reaching beneath the waistband of his boxers and he’s whining. He’s fucking whining and you love it.

“Oh fuck,” He mutters, his breath hitching as he bucks up and eagerly fucks your hand. He’s dizzy from the sensations and the overly erotic sounds of your slick hand stroking him.

Could you do a Miguel x reader where reader takes him into Victoria’s Secret and just lets him pick all of reader’s purchases as long as he pays for it 🩷

Expensive.

OF COURSE POOKIE!!! ILY!!! I HOPE U LIKE IT!!

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Miguel never liked sugar daddies- the whole vibe of the dynamic creeped him out. That was, until you had given him doe eyes during you guys’ trip to the mall and asked oh so sweetly- “Miggy, I have an idea— Would you wanna pick out some cute stuff for me?” You asked, batting your eyelashes borderline comedically.

Miguel raised a brow and chortled. “Why wouldn’t I?” He rebutted, though the way his gaze flicked away for a moment indicated his lack of confidence in putting together something nice for you. You deserved only the best, after all.

‘Expensive,’ He thought. That’s what you deserved.

And Goddamn, could Miguel provide. The man was loaded, and you never really got around to asking how exactly he acquired this amount of money. You didn’t care.

You just knew he loved spoiling you, and it wasn’t going to stop any time soon.

“What store, Muñeca?” He mused absentmindedly, picturing maybe a nice crop top and some little shorts. Your silence should’ve tipped him off to the mischief that resided within you as you grabbed his large hand and began dragging him to the dimly lit Victoria’s Secret directly across from you.

“Oh Christ,” He muttered apprehensively as you two entered the storefront. His hesitation was quickly shoved aside by ideas. Many ideas. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to find something nice, he thought. Everything here would look great on them.

He chuckled to himself.

“Go ahead,” You encouraged the awkward brick wall of a man, flicking your hand in an aloof manner. “Well…” He trailed off, slowly perusing the racks and shelves just loaded with skimpy, lacy little articles of what could barely be considered clothing.

He felt like an idiot once he realized that he had been staring at a mannequin, dumbfoundedly imagining how that exact set would look hugging your form. He then felt almost perverted as you watched him, shrinking in on himself a bit.

He then looked down and picked up the set in question once he’d found the correct tags.

Your heart dropped as you noticed the three digit number adorning the tag. “Holy shit, Migs— You don’t gotta-“ You began. “Only the best for you,” Miguel cut you off abruptly, refusing to elaborate before turning on his heel to go look at some other absurdly priced set.

This was fun, he realized.

He continued to browse, absentmindedly picking up each set that caught his eye or reminded him of you, or your figure, and hell, he even grabbed you some cozy pajamas. The checking out process was long and arduous, but you two exited the storefront with smiles.

Miguel almost seemed happier than you, beaming with glee as you two walked back to his car. The idiot had almost popped a boner from the mental image of you in what he had purchased. “Thank you, Miggy.” You said sweetly, leaning over the center console to give him a peck on the cheek once you two had settled in the car.

A quick ramble featuring sub miggy from yours truly!

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Miguel’s jaw hanging slack as you lazily pump your fist up and down his aching cock, his raw voice catching in his throat like it almost hurts to moan anymore…

You’re giggling now as he starts to writhe, his hips twitching as he’s unable to decide whether to move away from your touch or to fuck up into your hand. Finally letting himself relax and be the whore you’ve been trying to turn him into. His back’s arching and now he’s shaking his head frantically-

“What is it, baby?” You coo, your voice dripping with syrup and poison as you continue your ministrations. What is it now, the fourth time?

Miguel’s hair-dusted chest heaves as he nearly fucking whines for you. “N— Not again, no, ‘s too-“ He begins, and you don’t even have time to prepare a rebuttal when he’s coming all over himself and adding to the sticky ropes already painting his chest and tummy. Labored moans emit from the wreck of a man as you can only laugh.