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carleycore · 26 days ago

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SO HOT & 10kth note!!!!

FAST N' FURIOUS!

Synopsis. When he’s furious, he’s fast. And rough.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Higuruma x Reader, Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, angry s, manhandIing, they’re FÉRAL, full neIsons, headIocks, creampíes, cúmplay, GOJO’S POWERS, fíngering, chokíng, spítting, p talking, true form Sukuna, dp, p sIapping, breaking the bed, ratio technique, exhíbitionísm (Geto), rough s, they’re big, dumbíficatíon, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Heheh hope you have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - BACK-BREAKER.

CRACK!

It takes a second for Toji to even register the splintering noise let alone realize that he’d just shattered your bed into almost a thousand pieces. Darkened eyes narrowing- a bad gig today and now this?

“Mmm, Toji–” You’re turning your dazed head back to whimper oh-so-cutely. Lips wobbling as you take in the state of your poor bedsprings, “You broke the- oh!”

And Toji Fushiguro didn’t care.

He didn’t care if your bed was in one piece let alone sagging on one side. And before you can even flutter your teary lashes, you’re finding yourself flatly sprawled on your bedroom floor. Spine arched into a curve, legs smeared open by his strong knee.

“Be good for me, girl.” One of his rough, scarred hands creeps up on your neck to manhandle you still. He spanks his puffy n’ red tip down your core with a dampened pap! Voice fuming, “Your husband’s had a baaad day.”

Wait…husband?

Your poor mouth dangles open to ask what he meant by that- but the only thing sneaking out is a shrill whimper. “Fuh-fuck! Oh my god, why are you so big-”

Because Toji’s sheathing in a few of his hard, solid inches in a single thrust. Barely giving you time to adjust, barely letting you even breathe prior to holding onto your rapidly pulsating throat n’ dragging your body up and down in harsh jerks to meet his.

“Fuck. Shut up.” He’s channeling out a seething hiss, every one of your sweet sounds made his large, weeping tip twitch. Achingly. “Shut up and take- it-”

It’d been nearly hours now since he’d come back from some mission gone awry n’ taken it out on your poor, sensitive cunt. Now tenderly weeping out every time he furiously pours out another batch of wadded pre.

Toji’s barely even moving in his usually looong, teasing strikes that have you squirming endlessly. Right now he’s fucking you through the frigidly polished hardwood with rough, pummeling half-thrusts that have his own pelvis burning bright red at the slamming impact.

And you’re so sensitive from it.

Sobbing, “B-but it’s so much.”

“Shit- if this pretty pussy can’t take it then no one can, doll.” Toji has the audacity to tilt his head sexily and whistle. The wet underside of his shaft rawly inching deeper to stretch your hole wiiidely. “What is it- want me to beg? S’that it? You want me to beg, mama?”

Whining, his rude restraint on your windpipe grows stronger - and so does his cadence.

With a grunt he swats his plush balls against your cunt and watches as the contact makes your eyes stupidly whirl. “N-ngh- Toji–!”

“Heh- alright then…please.” Grinning, he’s so mean in the way he’s leaning his muscular body down so that you’re dealing with the brunt of his weight. “Please. Hold those legs up f’me and ngh- let your husband blow off a lil’ steam.” Mockingly, annoyed - but not at you, never at you. “Please.”

Leisurely, you’re only half-way registering what you’re doing once your hands instinctively dive down to perk the inner part of your thighs up. “Like this?”

“More.”

Struggling. “This?”

He snickers, “Difficult? Need me to fuck ya into the hah– floor instead?” He already was. Letting him throw your jittery legs onto his shoulders and bending–“Not enough, my wife.”

“Wh-what?!”

“I said…” It’s such a primal mating press right then n’ there on the ground. Your thighs on his deltoids, your ass against his washboard abs.

Toji pliably uses his inhuman strength to roughen you up all he wanted, the fleshy curves of his muscles flexing as he did. It was so mouth-watering to ogle him - all veins of his neck popping out, pecs tense, temple glittered with a thin line of sweat. Easing inside. Groaning, “-not enough.”

“O-oh mmm–” You’re steadily melting as his rugged length angles a straight whack! against the cute target of cute g-spot. Still so delicately bruised from all those rounds prior. “There! Right- ngh- there, baby–”

So deep and big inside of you now that his cocktip was stretchin’ the areas of your walls until you’re damn near seeing stars.

Swabbing every slick orifice with his reddened, blushing crown, he’s so far gone that the way you twist your hands into his beefy forearms and claaaw your way down only makes him let off a dopey smile. “Tch- like kitten scratches, mmmm- yeah yeah, try harder, doll.”

Harder. Faster. And it was all because of that damn gig- what that damn Shiu had said…

It feels so raw having him inside you, spank after spank you’re reeling from- easily making a complete mess of you.

Hiking his naturally sculptured thighs further upwards to press a deep snog against your cervix, you’re feeling the spheroid of his mushroomy tip surface the spongy layer of your womb and you sob.

“Harder. C’mon now- harder.” Toji bites out at you, the honed points of his canines gleaming with a layer of slobber. He was drooling at the repeatedly squelching music of your hot, dripping pussy now. “Oh, the lil’ kitty’s purring for me now…h-heh. Is she gonna cum—?”

He knew the state of your sweet, syrupy cunt more than you did.

Because just then you’re feeling the white-hot sparks swimming near your navel, thighs shaking ‘round Toji’s gyration hips. You can only nod and nod and nod, “C-close! Not gonna last…”

“There there, mama.” He flicks the pinkish edge of his tongue over his scarred lips, just the sight of you all wet and leaking over him maddening. Flopping his tastebuds out to taste your salty tear-tracks, “Cum for me.” Before you can utter a word, his free hand spanks down on your weepy cunt and dips a thumb past your slit. Treating your quivering clit like a button- one strike on your pretty nub, one strike to your g-spot. “Cum. Harder now.”

You don’t even realize you do until Toji’s gasping.

Until he’s grinning, until his painfully rock-hard cock bulges just a few centimeters even bigger at the sight of your mouth gaping in awe.

Toes curled, mouth flapping, overstimulated to tears. “T-Toji–! Cum…ing…”

Your slick-sprayed thighs plaster to the side of his obliques, front glued to his ladder-like abs as he sliiides down between vicious thrusts. Leaving no room for you to collect your breath. Leaving no room for you to even start thinking again—

“We haven’t broken the floor yet, doll.” Toji rustles his heady breath over your features, feral. “And Shiu’s gonna see what happens when he tries ta flirt with my wife.”

Oh.

♡ NANAMI KENTO - A reeeal man

You had your mouth gagged with Nanami’s silky yellow tie, your eyes curling to the back of your head. Jittery hands struggling to find purchase anywhere for dear life—“Mmpf, Ken—!”

And you were just so cute with your wet, puffy folds squeezin’ down on him that Nanami has to force himself to tear his hazy irises away from your cunt. “S’alright, my love.” Cooing, one of his fat thumbs darts up to swipe away the line of sparkly drool seeping from your lips. “Don’t wanna be mean. And I- ngh- don’t wanna be too rough, but…”

But he couldn’t help it.

Oh, ever since the moment he woke up in this very hospital bed after fighting that damned curse Mahito- Nanami Kento couldn’t help himself.

Parched for his dear wife’s pretty pussy when he thought he’d never see you again, he’s just slightly roughened up after Shoko had mended him, as good as new. Able to fuck you as good as new in this sloppy full nelson.

Chiseled pecs heaving, groans claggy.

“Fuck, darling, you’d be lucky if I don’t eat you alive.”

Whining, your back arches as his rugged hands come sliding underneath your knees to tug them all the way up to your tits. Tight. Rude.

His scorching hot breath hits the side of ear in gusts, “I’m- I’m gonna break you, my wife.” Uttering this just as Nanami’s feet plant firmly flat on the creaky bedsprings to shovel his cock deeper. The utter fuckin’ stress of everything that’d happened during battle only making his reddened, ravaged cock oh-so-merciless. “I’m gonna fuck you so had that m’gonna hafta apologize.”

You swear the round, curving edge of his cocktip only grows harder every time he’s remembering - getting angrier. Furiously pumping between your pussylips, it just feels so good to have your calm, sensible husband take it out on your pussy until the toned area of his pelvis is stinging red.

“Ngh– mmm- there.”

And Nanami didn’t know whether he should be proud or shocked at the way that geysering hole of yours only grows wetter. A sticky lather of syrup trickling down his veiny shaft- “You…you like that?”

All you can do is nod- your head falling slightly backwards to hit his strong collarbone, where he takes the opportunity to sweetly kiss the side of your cheek.

Murmuring - more to himself this time than you. “You want it- rough.”

It all happens at once- in one blink of your dewy eyes.

Nanami has your whiny throat caught in one of his big, beefy biceps in a headlock. His ankles looped over yours to smear them even further apart, n’ his large, bulbous cock swinging inside so deep.

And you suddenly have your teary cunt stinging with impact, your tastebuds sizzling at the stretch. “I’m r-really gonna break you, my love.” And yet, he just couldn’t stop himself. He’s rovering his hungry shaft with hard, slamming thrusts. “Really, really…”

Slap after slap.

Even though Nanami’s voice was so very gentle with you, his hips were anything but.

As if he’s slowly regaining his cursed strength and ramming every shred of it into swabbing your sloppy orifice. Letting his hip bones dig deeply into the cheeks of your ass, you’re whining. “M-more!”

“More…?”

“More.” Cheeks still stuffed with the length of his tie, you’re hastily trying to spit it out- just to have him push one of his ringed hands over and squeeze your cheeks. Pushing. Holding you still. And Nanami’s sheer cadence is so hard n’ fast that your legs fall further open like they’re completely boneless. “Want you in like mmm- this.”

Like this?

The metallic clinic bedframe creaks as he only picks up his pace, grunting. “Being all- hah-disrespected like this?” Drilling into you like he was crazed- he’s never been so sloppy, so disoriented, so messy with a pool of precum laying over your folds. He spanks his wedding band on your swollen clit and watches as you squirm. “How does it feel like this, huh?” Tugging rudely on that sensitive nub, “Lettin’ me treat that pussy like a little slut?”

It’s like he’s tightening his restraint on your windpipe and asking you into making your shrilling wails. Goading you to.

“P-please-”

“How does it feel? Goood?”

Your maw splashes a polish of drool down his veiny forearm, your head pathetically airy with bloodrush. All you can whimper are tiny ‘yesses’ and ‘please!’

Voice higher-pitched, breaking. “Don’t say things like that.” Cutting off your rapid breaths as he raises his toned spine to rut n’ rut- “Gonna hafta draw you a long-” His thick veins were throbbing at this point, patterning across every inch inside of you. The towering curves of his body frame twitch as he’s feeling the stress seep away from him. “-loooong bath after this- and the deepest- massage.”

You’re so wet that you’re squirting off a few dribbles of syrupy sap and his precum, shiny in the overhead lights. And he breathes, “And another ring- fuck!”

Oh, with his blond brows furrowed and his glassy gaze blurred at the feeling of your sweet, sweet cunt- Nanami doesn’t waste a single second before striking your sensitive g-spot with a slick thwack!

Repeatedly. Accurately, oh-so-hard with his strength that your teeth are on edge. “F-fuck! There-” Your poor hips are starting to run away from the raw impact, but Nanami can’t bear that-

“Come- come back.” Headlock still in place, you’re being hauled back down until the line of his tawny happy trail nuzzles your back. One more thrash of his weepy divot into your g-spot. Two more. Three more. Four-

And it’s only later that your mind registers the pricking sensation of the charged air around you two. Almost as if your pussydrunk husband was leaking…electricity? No, that couldn’t be. It was more like…

Oh, fuck…your eyes widen. His ratio technique.

He was out of control- and it seems like Nanami is hit with the very same realization. Gasping sharply, “Oh, darling, you are not going to be walking out of this.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Jury Duty

“Now…I don’t get mad, gorgeous.” Oh, but Geto Suguru was fuming - not because you’d messed up your sneaky lil’ mission to collect data from the sorcerers- no.

The very memory makes him slide his glistening fingertips down your raw, leaking slit. Letting off the loudest ringing sluuuurp–! once he’s digging between your puffy folds to squeeze your clit. Humming, “But was it quite so necessary to be that…close?”

He was mad because of just how sweetly you were talking to that nameless assistant that’d tried his best to get your number. Oh, if only Geto could’ve taken care of him right then and there.

“B-but-”

“Was it?” Raising his head, his darkened eyes face your little audience of the rest of his cult members, surrounding the two of you on the tatami mats. “Did you think you could pull a fast one on me?”

Heads bowed, reverent of their leader. Each n’ every one there shivers at his attention- and you don’t even get to hear their answer before he’s kissing his plush lips down the line of your back- holding you firmly still with a hand at your throat once the curve of his cock slips just between your legs.

You’re whining, “No it wasn’t- please!”

“Stay.” Voice deep, tone guttural. He’s clinging on with a clawed hand onto the side of your hips, no matter how much you wrestle and thrash and ache for more- you couldn’t move because of his carnal, strong hold. Not a single inch.

“He was just hck! being nice.”

“And now you can’t stop talking about him, gorgeous?” And Geto knows he’s being unfair. He knows he’s being mean. But the way you just turned so slippery n’ wet once he’s spanking the entrance to your cunt with his reddened, blushing tip makes him only grin. “Guess you’ll just get to talk out of her.”

Geto was silently seething, watching the way your spit-stuck mouth hangs faaaar ajar with every solid inch he slips inside. Sensually, slow enough that your thighs twitch and you can’t do anything but whine once he’s holding you still to rub the fat of his veins against your sweetest spots. Over and over.

“H-heh-” Something in his voice cracks. “Don’t think she even deserves this. Now, do we think she deserves my entire fucking cock, hm—?”

Oh, the low purr in his voice makes both you and the cult shiver- and your popped ears catch a few stray agreements. Geto’s answering tone low in your ear, “You’re lucky they’re being nice~”

But he wasn’t - and before you know it, your boyfriend has one thigh hiked to help take you from behind. The spheroid of his mushroomed tip flared and red-hot lodging straight into your cervix as he sinks in, pushing and pushing and pushing.

He gasps at the slight resistance of your tight hole, “Take it.” Honed fangs snarling, partially-closed eyes locked onto the way slick was gluing your pussylips all sweet n’ together. Your mouth drops as you stare over your shoulder and wonder whether he was even talking to you.

Because his low, breathy tone made it sound like Geto was babbling like never before.

Spitting straight down the glittery slope of your slit so that you whimper. “Can’t hear you, pretty baby. Speak up.”

“Suguru–” Your mouth huffs out, lower lip pushing into a pout. Your eyes criss-cross stupidly once he flinches at the sound of his name on your tastebuds and strikes the spongy layer of your g-spot dead-on- as if it’d just electrocuted him. Slapping down two hands on the side of your hips to haul you deeper down his bludgeoning, split-ended crown. He probes a circular bruise into you, “O-ohhh mmm- s’in so deep-”

“And who said you could speak, gorgeous?”

You’re letting off a whiny shrill, questions building up on your tastebuds. Only for Geto to beat you to it and thwack! his meaty cockhead repeatedly against the splotch of your g-spot until you can’t speak.

Tilting his head towards your spectators with a grin, “Right~? I didn’t say hah- she couldn’t speak, right?” Seemingly nodding, you could feel him lean his weight further down into the base of your spine, pinning you down. “So shut up and take- it-” Punctuating his words with stiff jackhammers that blow your mind. “Let this filthy hole be the one ngh- talking t’me- she’s muuuuch sweeter than you.”

As if he’d just planned it, his flared slit snags on the quivering entrance to your pussy and makes such a saccharine squelch!

“Heh…when she’s not swallowing my fat fucking cock, that is.”

So vulgar.

You’ve never seen him like this- you’ve never had him like this.

Fucking you so deeply into the futon that you’re half-sure the pattern of the tatami below would still be on your front by tomorrow. He wasn’t just pounding away, though- it was hard, precise mazings of his slimy shaft that drove you the most mad. Geto spanks his hips down until it gives a good pummel against your g-spot and wonders whether it might’ve bruised.

“B-but-” Just barely managing to get out of your drivelling mouth before two of his arms loop underneath your own and hoist you halfway upwards. Held up only by his big, beefy biceps, splayed out like such a slut.

He sags his pretty face into the crook of your neck, still driving his hips until the fuzz of his happy trail was scratching you raw. “Still talking, gorgeous?”

“But- wanna-”

“Wanna? Hmmmm…” For a second, Geto looks as if he might just as the rest of his association whether or not you deserved to. And for a second, you expect him to.

But it happens all at once- his wrist reaching out to tilt back your woozy head, his rosy lips puckering, spitting a wadded stream of saliva straight into your half-open mouth.

He’s wrenching shut your jaw and making you swallow—“Clean that mouth out. Talking to hah- bastards.” Absolutely no shame, absolutely no disgust in the way he plants a lecherous slide of his tongue down in a French kiss. Fuck. “Mmm- now you’re mine. Say ‘thank you’, my girl.”

The sheer girth of his length already has you blubbering, mouth moving before your mind. He’s stirring up your insides n’ every ridge until you mewl, “Th-thank you.”

“Good—” The very same hand that was latched onto your jaw now moves to your cheeks, squishin’ them into an embarrassing pout as Geto makes you stare straight at the sprawling audience you two have. Heady. “Now…ask them if you deserve to cum.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Fuck.”

It’s just about the only thing that your poor, twitching boyfriend can say right now.

And as he bruises a roughened hold upon each side of your bouncing hips, echoing in a pant. “F-fuck!” Baritone cracking into something high, he throws his head back into the cushy pillows and ruts just as far as his spine could curvaceously arch.

Mahogany eyes fluttering shut, teary lashes touching his cheek.

It takes the soft, fleeting caress of your fingers gliding across his bangs for Choso to even register that he should open his eyes. And you coo out in a gentle voice, “Is everything alright, baby–?”

“Yes-” Breath hitching, he’s almost immediately back-tracking his answer when your dewy wet folds try to clench ‘round his girth. And the very feeling makes him once more sloppily thrust- “No.” You smile as Choso’s plush lower lips fall into a pout, “N-no teasing, baby.”

Oh, there was something so primal about the way that Choso’s saying it.

Like he’s burning up with red, hot power sizzling underneath his skin. You’re pulling on his hair when he whacks your cervix once and the only thing he can keen is a low–“Harder.” Harder. “No- harder.”

It just isn’t enough, some carnal part of him thinks it might never be enough.

And the only thing that the half-curse can do is channel out a few harder hits, feeling his heart race at how that constant ramming of skin on your skin makes his v-line sting.

“Fuck- nghh-” Your eyes scrunch shut with a few pearly tears at the sultry sensation. Never ever has your boyfriend pounded into you like this, never has he held your drooling cunt hostage while he shoveled his length from the very tip-top of his strawberry divot, bottoming out until he physically can’t anymore. “So good mmm, feels so good, Cho.”

“Yeah? Yeah?” Watching as your puffy core starts squirtin’ out a few sleek ribbons of slick, Choso crinkles his nose and all but begs. “Can- can I go harder then, baby? Please?”

Oh?

He’s never the first to ask to go harder- usually, you are.

And that itself is enough to get you nodding stupidly, your glassy peripherals swirling in unison with his veiny shaft. Stirring in a slight curving gyration inside of your gummy walls before he pulls out and slams all the way back in. Methodical and mean.

“Fuck-” His flared mushroom tip hits the side of your g-spot and Choso drools. “M’not gonna hck! make it out of this alive. What…what is this feeling-”

Before you can even think of answering, he plants his feet firmly flat on the floor and uses the sinful leverage to slide you upwards on his hips. The feeling of your perky clit gliding down his happy trail making the man hiss—Reaching upwards, eyes dilated. “Feels like m’gonna eat you alive.”

Oh…you had an idea what it was.

Something about putting his cursed energy into overdrive during a mission today. And you’re sure that your dear, inexperienced boyfriend was simply stressed from the day.

Unsure how to take it out. Unsure how to do anything but flinch once you’re opening your sweet maw to shrill a few teasing words. “Awww– seemed like you’re under some ngh- stress, baby. Want me to take care of that for you?”

“I said no fucking- teasing-”

Choso looks as shocked as you at those words - apologies ripe on his tongue, cherry-pink lips wobbling adorably as he tries to reel it back in- Only for the weepy hole on top of his swollen crown to pour out a generous load of wadded pre, striking right into the very back of your pussy.

Going harder. Sloppier. And he’s so big that every second has your chin glitter with bubbles of spit.

“O-oh.” And he’s sucking in a shallow breath as if he’d just had an epiphany. Dark brows knitting together, the crevice of his damp mouth opens up to let his pinkish tongue peek through. Carefully grazing his thumb down that lil’ tummy bulge he was fucking into you, “You’re gonna take me like- like a good girl.”

Fuck- you’re so wet by now that the bottom half of his abs were polished with a glittery sheen. Making it sooo much easier for him to slip n’ slide you with his manhandling arms. “A good- ngh-”

“Yeeeeah, exactly that.” And he looks so drunk on that little sentence, a dopey smile playing along his mouth once he presses down on that bumpy, cylindrical outline. Giggling, “H-heh, my good girl. You’re gonna take me, aren’t you, my baby?”

Hands clawing onto the plush curves of his deltoids, you can only throw your head back and let yourself be moved. “Yeah- go on. Have your fun, Cho—”

“My fun. My fun.” Almost as if he couldn’t believe it. The buzz of his powers going into overdrive makes his long, sensitive shaft even more sensitive, rovering down your ridged walls so fast that his delicate veins start throbbing. “That means…I can bend you like this-”

His right hand, so loving n’ soft on your hips- starts arching you back, back, back back- until every ramming kiss of his glazed tip stirs your insides fully.

Until he’s staring at that tummy bulge and watching with such heart eyes, “And- and I can fuck you like this-” Not only were his hips rutting up animalistically, his strong, beefy arms were flexing upon your sides and making you bounce. Milking him. Slouching his toned upper body over to bite on the crook of your neck, “And I can bite-”

With his honed canines nibbling down on your heated skin, Choso’s mouth departs with cracked whimpers every time his tender slit was rubbin’ up on the side of your cervix.

“Please- ngh- please please please-” You’re throwing your head back as his ruby-red tip starts to twitch. Ferally. Every time he slides his velvety length through your walls, he’s striking hard enough that both of you see stars.

And Choso grins–“Can be all r-rough- and this pussy’s still mine.”

So it only made sense that he was going to cream himself inside like it. Like you owned him, he’s circling your hips in a wide semi-circle that makes his veins snag all over the insides of your cunt. Lecherous. Loud.

Choso just can’t stop whining with every splat! of salty white cum that sprays out into your pussy, “Gonna do this again.” Not even slowing. Not even faltering. His pulsating cock is just so big that you can’t even spill all over, just sheathing him in a layer of syrupy white. “Gotta- have to.”

Mewling, “Yes— please- make me cum, baby.”

“Hmm—” And fuck- you’d nearly forgotten just how strong he was. Because in a matter of mere sultry moments, you’re being bent forwards with a powerful hand at your throat. “Only if you spit in my mouth.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - TRUE true form!

Ryomen Sukuna was big - so big that every smash of his dual, blushing tips made you throw your head back and see stars.

And his arms weren’t letting you off easy, either. All four of his bulbous, beefy biceps flexed once he kept his hold on either side of your body- damn near holding you off of the bed in midair as he fucked you like he hated you.

“P-please, how are you so hck! big, Kuna?” You’re whining, your chin splashing with a syrupy bout of saliva. And every tiny twitch of your boneless hips left his bludgeoning shafts travelling straight to the bottom of your pussy.

“P-P-please-” He’s mocking, gruff voice clinging onto the back of your neck like adhesive. You’re just on all fours and shaking like a leaf- “S’that any way to talk to your hah- king, little human?”

“Nooo- but…”

“Shut up and take it then- heh.” Legs boneless, every ricket! of the mattress leaves you wincing at the recoil of his hips. Ramming into yours so hard that you’re sure you have bruises now- his thighs on your own, his abs on your spine, his twin cockheads on the entrance to your womb.

And you have nothing more to say, every other end of your sentence smashed up every time he’d wetly plastering your cervix with a layer of pre. It was so hot n’ hard having him filling up your every tender orifice. “It’s so rough.”

And what else did you even expect?

Cutely asking him not to destroy a few souls- tch, of course he was pent up. Of course, he was seething and taking out every shred of it by clawing down the base of your spine and pushing n’ pushing.

Bottomed out but still half-rutting like it would kill him if you didn’t take any more.

Each lil’ clench of your bubblegum pussy making his black, clawing nails only surge, his muscles ripple even bigger, fangs growing-

“Haaa? What? You want me ta be gentle?” Sukuna purrs, low. And you’re whimpering once you feel the slimy tip of what felt like his second tongue sliiiide down your stuffed slit. “Your king will show you ‘gentle’, brat.”

Mewling, each spank of the velvety underside of his cursed tongue leaves you jolting. Purposefully dragging over his textured tastebuds just so that he could taste every syrupy ounce of you.

And not even clinging onto the aged headboard of the bed and squirming could get him to let up.

Could get him to move even a single inch when he’s alternating between rude bangs of his matching plump crowns into your cervix, and then a glutinous flick of his tongue. Again and again, he was letting it alllll out on you until you’re all bruised and battered on the gooey ends of your pussy.

Sukuna’s only holding you to his broad pecs with two of his hands, the other two drifting down to smear your sheeny thighs open. So, so wide but his toned hips were so bulky that stretchin’ round him made your hamstrings ache.

“You won’t let me fuuuck- consume humans and now you won’t let me consume this?” Both mouths drooling, he greedily gazes at the way each single whack! of his breeder balls leaves your cunt hole trembling n’ geysering. He spits, molten hot irritation. “Spoiled brat…I’m starved.”

“Can’t- hck! can’t help it- it’s so much-”

Spank after spank, he slots his second mouth in a steamy French kiss just where your cunt was quivering with delight. Every geysering slosh of sap streaming down to his greedy throat- “Yeah? Sayin’ that when yer making such a ngh- mess?”

And you were just slobbering everywhere, painting a translucent little puddle underneath you that he’s eagerly lapping up. Probin’ oh-so-stupidly deep that you can only babble, “Y-yes?”

“Tch.”

Oh. Oh.

That sinful little answer of yours makes the King’s tattooed body erupt in goosebumps. And you swear you’re feeling the weight of him press you into the bedsprings even deeper. So feverish, so hot that you blearily snap your head around and drink in the sight of Ryomen Sukuna with horns.

Red, jagged and long.

His true form.

And it was so unfairly sexy, glinting canines snapping at the tendons of your throat. “And ya think you deserve to be messy, hm?” Grinning in such a gone way, he tilts his head as he presses down on the edge of your spine with one knee. Drilling into you like he’s crazed. Out of control. “Think you deserve more?”

“Mmm- can feel you both inside- ngh, both-”

Something in his glowing, crimson eyes was dark- primal. And it was boring at you dead-on once Sukuna splays an open palm of his in front of your face and croons—“Prove it t’me. Spit.”

Your glossy, puckered lips curve into a pout, starin’ at that opened palm of his straight ahead underneath you. Saliva already dribbling down each side of your twitching lips, like he was spearheading you from the other side and pushing it out. You spit-

Only for Sukuna’s second mouth to manifest right at that very split-second on his palm, so that you’re spitting in there instead. “Filthy thing.” And as that great glittery glob disappears between his cursed lips, you don’t know whether he’s talking to you or his mouth. “Want more then, huh?”

And, truthfully, he doesn’t even know if you can handle it.

Doesn’t know if your stretched-out cunt can take any more with his mushy tongue trying to pry apart your core even further. But he wasn’t feeling any ounce of mercy.

Trying to fill you up so much that you’ll be able to feel it even weeks from now, Sukuna’s lengthy nails leave marks all over your waist as he hoists you up even more. Hissing at the way your fingers reach up to graze just the base of his draconic horns.

And the King blushes, he gasps.

“You- you vicious fuckin’ woman.”

You’d just made Ryomen Sukuna stutter.

The roughened thrust that comes next so hard that your eyes are swirling cartoonishly, arms aching where you yearn to touch that part of his true true form.

Holding on while he pounds you like he’s pressing you in to the royal silk sheets, the flatness of his tongue smacks down on the crevice of your pussy. Slipping inside- a third intrusion—“Now you’re really in for it, lil’ human.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - Got milk(ed)?

“This is what you make me, pretty.” And Ino’s tugging whatever’s left of his damn ski mask, he’s bending your legs firmly into a mating press with natural toned strength you didn’t even know he had. “And this is how you’re going to get hah! fucked.”

And just one swipe of his cute, pre-glazed tip would be enough for your boyfriend to be salivating at the mouth. Lips twitching with eagerness as he sinks his heavy shaft inside.

But right now?

Oh, right now he wasn’t even sensually slowing down to listen to your pretty trilling moans. He’s not going easy on you, he’s doing nothing but sheathing his prolonged length whole in a way that makes your woozy eyes tear up.

Lips speckling with drivelling spit as you whine, “Shit-” The doughy heels of your feet find purchase on his slender shoulders, unsure whether you wanted to push or have him stretch you out more more more- “Shit- you’re so big.”

“Gonna cry about it?” He smirks- meanly. And where the hell was your sweet, innocent boyfriend?

The Ino right now was just spanking down a few of his thoroughly ringed digits on your soppy slit, leaving you n’ your quivering cunt seeing stars at the sensation. Stirrin’ around the rotund, bawling edge of his pink crown until he manages to bully all the way into the back of your pussy.

Just barely managing to open your mouth, “O-oh my god- Taku, it feels so- oh!”

“Whaaat–?” And shit- the way his straight nosebridge was crinkling was sexy, looking at you through hazily half-lidded eyes that told you he wanted to devour you whole. “Look at her- just look.”

Ino lets his knobbly fingertips glissade down your folds and latches onto the button of your clit just enough to pull-pull-puuull. Low, gentle voice tinged with something so raspy as he groans, “M’being so meeean to her, making her cry n’ she’ll still mmm- sucking me in, sweetness.”

Truly, you were just so wet that your oversaturated walls were gulping down his every solid inch like you were starved. Filling up every orifice and cranny with his hot, heavy length- “B-because it’s just so good.”

“Is it—?” Ino sighs out, airy and flushed. For merely a split-second before he’s snapping out of it and promptly kneeing apart the insides of your thighs.

Bed creaking in protest when he reels his lean hips back to bring them down with a ringing smack! It’s so loud that it makes Ino’s pelvis sting, his chestnut lashes wring with tears, and he has to gnaw down on his lush lower lip to bite back a few broken whimpers. “Fuck- fuck, don’t you dare make me all pathetic, pretty.”

Mewling, one of his slender hands comes to push your cheeks together in a pathetic lil’ pout. The edges of his frigid rings lacquering with your spit- and the other keeps slithering right between your legs.

Not only was he toying with your clit now - he was circlin’ your cute, rubbery hole. Long middle finger scratching your outer entrance with his bands of metal before shoving its way inside-

“S-still taking me.” And for a lecherous moment there it almost sounds as if he’s just lost himself, it almost sounds like he’s breaking. Before shaking the tawny bangs out of his eyes and snarling down a feral grin. “Pretty hole’s takin’ all of me- wonder if you can take ngh- more, sweetness.”

“Sh-shiiiit–!” Your hands claw red, red lines all down Ino’s sculptured back when you feel the probing push of yet another one of his fingers.

Already stuffed to the brim with his sleek, pummeling cock - and now here he was thrusting in a sloppy cadence of whack-whacking your cervix with his bulbously swabbing tip and tormenting your g-spot with the glides of his digits.

They’re agonizing when they’re stimulating you at the same time, and the only thing you can do is throw your head back and listen to the noisy squelches and slurps. Moaning, you claw at his dextrous wrist as he spanks a third fingerpad on your slope. “Another- oh, fuck!”

Pushing and pushing

Ino groans huskily at the snug resistance when all three of his fingers can’t poke around- brows scrunching, tongue sticking out.

He looked drunk and gone by the time he’s hissing out a sharp breath and flipping the two of you over. And oh- oh, this position was ideal.

Because not only did it give him the heavenly view of your thighs spread all open n’ straddling his hips to ride him- but it also let him dip his creamy fingers down and rub them all over your geysering cunt. Bullying them the entire way inside up to his mountainous knuckles because enough is never enough.

“Fuck- oh.” Ino tumbles his head back once he’s hearing the sappy plop! of your dripping pussy gobbling up his second finger. Entire body twitching at the feeling of his chilly ring digging in- “Pretty, pretty- I can’t do this anymore I hck! need it—”

Your lips quirk up into a smug smile, hips hitting down with a slam of clammy skin sticking onto skin. And he can only half-rut, savage and angrily pumping his cock. “Aww, already, Taku?”

“Yes. Yes.” He’s begging by now. Pleading. This little roleplay you’d begun, now starting to completely switch when he had you on top like this ready to milk his swollen, reddened cock dry.

Such a pretty coral pink at his tip, and it matches the innocent blush on Ino’s hollow cheeks once he’s guiding one of your hands up to choke him. Gurgling out, “I want you to be angry at me now, sweetness.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Mercy.

“Th-this is where you’re weak, right?”

And the strongest’s voice cracks.

Gojo utters out a rough breath as he catches his thumb on that designer blindfold of his dangling ‘round your neck and plasters you against his tensely glissading abs. The tip of his cock driving between your wet, aching folds, he’s jerking you up just enough to push his reddish crown into your g-spot with a splat!

“O-oh please mmmm–” Your mouth parts with a ribbon of sleek spit, tumbling out in a heap into the pillow lodged underneath your face. “There- right there, Satoru!”

“There- there.” You’re hearing him raspily utter from behind, each pant higher and more broken than the last. With your back arched oh-so-deliciously, he’s hiking up one of his meaty thighs to pin to the side of your hips and pump even deeper- “There?”

Oh, he knew it was there.

He’s rubbin’ his swollen, veiny shaft all over your sweetest areas like a massage. He was mean. And you’re crying out the cutest lil’ whines that only make him bite back a sleazy grin. “Such a good, tight pussy takin’ me- h-heh, so good taking me, sweetheart. So good…”

“S-so rough.” Your hazy peripherals whirl in circles ‘round the whites of your eyes, brows scrunching with every thwack! of his honed, chiseled v-line striking the cheeks of your ass. “It’s so much- ngh.”

And the only response that Gojo’s overheated body can think of is to twist his large fingers into the jostling fabric at your neck to pull you further backwards. Your breath stutters damply, chest heaving.

He didn’t care. He was going hard. Hissing swiftly in your ear, “If you think this is too much maybe I should knock you up then, my wife.” Something in the cloyingly sticky air crackles - power, raw need - as he snickers to himself. “Should I—? Should I knock you up like they say?”

They: those damn elders.

He wasn’t just irritated after that ambushed meeting on damn Gojo heirs - he was furious.

The very reason that Gojo hadn’t made two steps past the door to your shared penthouse before he’s practically dragging you to the bedroom. Shoving his heavy, aching cock inside until you were full, full, full-

“M-maybe you should.” You’re blubbering out through the primal mewls ripping through your throat, just another one of his jackhammers rendering you stupid. Almost instant the way he slimily grazes his bulbous tip down to whack the entrance of your cunt.

And Gojo seethes— cheeks angrily ruddied, spit flying in glittery flecks. “I should?”

“Yes mmm- please.”

“I…should?”

It’s not a question - it’s a realization.

The clammy pads of his fingers shake unstably, his touch zaps you with cursed energy, movements sensually languid- almost like Gojo doesn’t even register what his hefty body is doing right now. Almost like he doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s toeing his left foot upwards to plant it down on the crown of your scalp until he’s looking down at his pretty, pathetically drooling wife and gasping.

“Oh. Oh.” The red n’ full cock speared inside of you twitches, so big that he swabs all your each sultry, shrouded nook and cranny . “You don’t know how haaah- badly it pissed me off, my girl. Wanted to purple hollow all those fuckers.”

Your hands fist the silk of the pillowcase now sticking to you like adhesive, hips squirming restlessly- he was so fast that the back of your ass was raw with the texture of his pale happy trail. “Wh-what did?”

“Hearin’ them talk about an heir. Hearin’ them talk about you ngh- pregnant.” He snarls, heel pressing down with slight force that makes all the blood rush from your melty mind straight down to your dripping pussy. He’s fucking you like he hates you. “When really I’m your husband-”

As he speaks, the slick curve of his cockhead snags on your bundle of nerves. Your husband’s Six Eyes working overtime when he’s watching - mouth ajar, gaze half-lidded - as his lengthy shaft impales your gummy walls and drives riiiight into your womb. Precisely.

Gojo blushes at the x-ray vision, “-and I get to make my wife pregnant when she wants.”

They wanted a Gojo heir, they’re going to get one.

With your thighs shaking, breaths heaving- before you know it, he’s timing a direct three hits from your cute lil’ g-spot n’ barreling straight into your womb. And it makes you cum.

Long, vein-covered length barely even pulling out - Gojo feels your walls clench around his thick girth and he’s only half-rutting.

“That’s it- that’s it that’s it that’s it-” You can hear the pure crazed smile in his husked tone, the edges of his rosy lips twisting with every adorably pulsing ba-thump! of your cunt. Faster. Harder. He was wincing with each recoil of his sloppy strokes, unable to even bear being separated from the syrupy depths of your pussy. “Take it- take it like good girl-”

“I-it’s shoooo—” Left so helpless by the merciless way he was pounding you through your high, your mouth was slurring out bubbles of spittle after each second strike. “-so much- hck! So much.”

“More. Yeah, you’re gonna take more, my girl.” He can’t help but memorize the shocked lines of your face and giggle. Octaves higher. Movements filthier. Running a hand down to toy with your clit, “You’re gonna be filled up to the briiim.”

And usually Gojo would’ve rubbed the soft, velvety tips of his fingers on your sensitive nub in hearts. Maybe even his name, teasingly. Usually.

But he didn’t have the patience for that right now.

Right now, he was twisting his touch onto where you were most swollen and pinching your clit. Hard. Power sparking like some lewd bullet vibrator.

All that it takes for him to throw his head back and finish off in such a raw, primal way all up inside of your cunt. And you’re not even sure if Gojo registers it - whether he even feels himself cum, because he’s still drilling away like he’s addicted.

Bed dipping at the force of his blows, sheets staining pure white with the slippery sheen of seed that glues down your thighs. Toes curling, it’s only when you’re sniffling back a tear of overstimulation that Gojo snaps his head down to catch the pearly ribbon of cum escaping your geysering folds—“Need to get you pregnant. Need to- more.”

“What?”

You’re so wet that it feels like a damn waterfall down there, and your husband only glides his knobbly thumb down to plug every sappy, ivory ounce back into your hole. “More, my girl.”

The air bristles with charged atoms as he swerves his slender hips just right to push the knotted cobwebs of cum accurately against your womb. Every part of him charged, every part of him still powerful and fuming.

Whining, your knees buckle as if you were unsure whether you wanted to run or hit your hips back. Again and again.

And Gojo’s voice still shakes as he clings a hand onto the side of your birthing hips to manhandle you further down to him. Unable to escape. “You didn’t think you’re h-heh- getting off easy…mama?”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - Mrs. CEO

“I have never seen a CEO this clumsy-” Higuruma’s deep, drawling voice speaks over the haze of your nth high of the night. Thin lips twitching as he takes in the sight of you sprawled on top of your own office desk, shuffling over so many important documents. “-ma’am.”

But oh, he couldn’t go easy on you just yet. Not when you had so much work to do.

And it’s why he’s shuffling his polished shoes further in a step backwards, tongue flicking out to lick his lips as he smeeears the layer of his cum sticking to your cunt like glue.

Grumbling, “Forgetting the most important hah- meeting of the day. I should report you.” Formal office pants still on, the dangling metal piece of his belt kisses the right cheek of your ass and makes you hiss. Rubbing your gummy walls raw on the slick, winding patterns of his veins.

And it’s just so wet with all your sappy syrupy and his, travelling down to where you’re rubbing your thighs together. “Are you complaining, hm?”

Spank! Spank! Spank!

Three exact swats of his rude hands slamming down on the teary crevice of your slit, Higuruma makes sure to angle his strikes just right so that he can feel the way your clit just quivers. “Watch that pretty mouth, angel.”

And he’s moving so agonizingly, just torturing you with the curve of his mushroomy tip bulldozing straight near your g-spot.

Never quite hitting it, never quite missing.

Right up until you throw your head back with a wail and keen–“Please.” Swervin’ your hips back in lecherous figure eights that damn near gets the man above you hypnotized. “M’sorry, Hiromi.”

Spank!

A hand on your throat- “No, you’re not.” One more to pinch n’ tug on your oversensitive clit until you feel all raw, you’re seeing stars every time he rolls his hips to play with your dripping pussy just right.

“You n’ this filthy hole need me to ngh- finally fuck some sense into you, riiight–? Finally stop that pretty lil’ head from being filled with just cock?”

You don’t know if you’re nodding, you don’t know if you’re sobbing- but before you can register it, Higuruma’s hiking his capped knee up onto the desk so hard that it rattles. Nearly stepping on the base of your spine just to arch you perfectly.

Whining, “O-ohhh mm- jus’ that deep.” The new angle makes him stretch you open so wide that every splash of buttery white cum slips out of your entrance like a waterfall. Your pussy struggling to suck in his sheer size into your hot insides, “Fuck me- oh, yes, fuck me.”

“S’what I’m doing, silly angel.” The vice-like restraint on your throat is mean, and Higuruma’s tone is even meaner. Cooing- but he’s dragging you by the neck upwards to look directly into his eyes as he sliiiides his lengthy, scorching cock inside and out. “Or are you already that ngh- stupid on my cock, hm?”

So deep, so fat that he can’t even help if the vein-covered sides of his shaft brush up against your sweetest spots by mistake.

Hips papping back into his, “More.” Cloying layers of seed saturate your innards so much, and you’re so sensitive that every honed thrust makes your knees weaken. “S’more, Hiro, c’mon.”

And the worst part was that your personal assistant’s pinning you with his weight and holding you there to watch you struggling and squirm. Slimy, erect cockhead driving right into the target of your lil’ nerves like he’s addicted to that very spot, “You’ll take what you’re given.” He tilts his head with a smile, “Why don’tcha get some work done, sugar?”

Oh.

You could barely even pick up the pen let alone sign off on important contracts like you were supposed to be doing right now.

And yet, every time your poor, boneless wrist showed signs of faltering, Higuruma would grit his teeth and painfully slow down his cadence. Each time he lazily rubs just the large, rotund curve of his cocktip on your g-spot, watching as you jerk your hips back for more-

Spank! Spank!

Massaging two direct swats on the flooded slope of your pussy, “Fuck! This tight little hole really can’t stay that hck! long without me?” Loosening his tie still on him, “She’s even worse than you, angel.”

And he’s milking himself on you- punishing your cunt with the most lecherous drags of his sloppy shaft. Each time you feel him enter past the door to your womb, you can only throw your head back and bite down on the velvety fabric of his damn office tie.

“H-hck! Please- gonna—” Muffled, your handwriting’s gone astray on whatever document it is by now. “So close-”

Tapping his chin as he pretends to think, “Hm, I’ll let you cum-” And before a gorgeous smile could even start to light up your face, before you can even breathe, Higuruma’s crowning your sweaty scalp with one hand and pushing you to further lay on the mahogany desk. Drooling in such a heaping puddle right then n’ there, “If you can use those fuck! awful manners n’ say ‘please’...”

“Please.”

“Louder.”

“Please-”

Purring, “Can’t hear you, ma’am—”

And you were so far gone that your irises are turning clockwise in circles inside of your eyes, mouth overspilling with a glittered polish of drool and whimpers.

You thrash your hips up higher on the table, “Please-” Batting your lashes just how you knew he was weak for. “Pretty please, baby.”

Oh- that did it.

That did it.

Because with a final one-two-three more vulgar strokes pumped into your puffy, sopping wet pussy, it isn’t just you hitting your high - it’s Higuruma, too.

Your stern, sensible personal assistant who slams the chiseled upper half of his body the minute he feels your melty walls clenching and heaves. Meaty quads shaking with every wiry ribbon of cum he departs, letting the goopy mess fill up your cunt to the maximum.

Gasping- “Fuck, look what you did. L-look.”

And for a second you’re so disoriented by your own white-hot flashes of bliss that you barely even hear what he’s saying. In your own little reverie until you’re hit with a spraying splat! of something near your shoulder.

Blinking, you’re turning behind you and noticing that Higuruma Hiromi was crying tears of overstimulation.

Crying.

“S’all your fault, angel.” Your thighs quake with each bout of your high, and just that tiny squeezing motion was enough for him to bead out another thin trail of tears. Milking himself. Your pussy’s holding him hostage until he’s nearly dry, only wrenchin’ out a few pearly knots of seed. Emptied out.

So lazy and feverishly drunk that he reaches over to softly kiss the matching wedding ring on your hand, “Next time you’re not missing another meeting with me, my wife.”

A/N. OO I NEEDA WRITE HIGURUMA’S ONE LONGER

Plagiarism not authorized.

#car recs #car loves #jjk x reader smut

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carleycore · 26 days ago

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hellllllllllll yes

husband sukuna yaaaay

"What are you wearing?" Sukuna says, watching you walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a beautiful silk robe he had never seen before. His eyes are sharp, and his tone is slightly judgemental, so you give him a puzzled look.

"A robe?" You look around in confusion, then finally face your husband.

"I don't recall you owning that." His brows furrow just a bit as he sits over the edge of your shared bed, patting the space next to him, inviting you to come closer.

"It was a gift..." You twirl around a little. "I think it's pretty. Japanese style and all, fits with the aesthetic of the house and the things you like—"

"Take it off." He orders, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer to him, almost throwing you over the bed as his hands roam over your naked thighs.

"What? Why?" You sound slightly hurt, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck.

"It makes me very horny. Take it off." He grunts, voice muffled against your skin. And you snort before laughing.

"It turns you on more than seeing me naked?" You can feel his face heating up even more as he nods.

"Yes. And besides, silk is for homosexuals and... and hookers." You throw your head back in laughter as he finds and undoes the little bow that kept the robe tied together.

"You think I'm a hooker, Kuna?" Another growl, peeling the robe off from your body, and looking up at you with intense eyes.

"No. But I will certainly fuck you like one after this."

TAG LIST

SUKUNA M.LIST

TAGGING: @sunnymmoon @lilithlunas @imvivian @purplechan9 @eroscastle @goldenglow149 @lurexin @stranger00001 @delicatelycraftedbambi @rania200527 @mizzhellsingsstuff @lakxcpsta @coolnekochan9961 @notreallyablogger @lilyalone @oliviathatgirl @eeelieschariot @hannas16 @surelynotaspider @mimihaitani @raxshall @ayn-yurbestie @jellystar-star @janeisnotonline @sukunaspillow @architectofsuffering @mrstraffy

#sukuna x reader #car recs #car loves

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carleycore · 1 month ago

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Excuses

Pairing: Isagi x Reader

CW: none!!

You’re not stupid.

By now, you’ve memorized the names, faces, and quirks of most of the Blue Lock players. But no one—no one—finds as many creative ways to “accidentally” injure themselves as Isagi Yoichi.

“Oh no, I tripped during cooldown,” he says one day, holding his wrist like it’s broken.

“My shoulder feels weird after shooting today,” he mutters the next.

You scan him with professional detachment each time, and each time, you find… nothing. Maybe a bit of soreness, some tightness, a knot here or there, but nothing that warrants the frequency of his visits.

You’re a sports therapist, not an idiot.

Still, he keeps coming. And you keep letting him.

Tonight, it’s quiet. Most of the facility has wound down for the night. You’re finishing paperwork when the door creaks open and a familiar mess of black hair peeks in.

“Hey,” Isagi says casually, like it’s normal for him to show up after hours. “Got time?”

You glance at the clock. “Barely,” you lie. “What is it this time? Let me guess—you stubbed your toe?”

He has the decency to look sheepish. “Nah, it’s my back. Sort of stiff.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Uh-huh.”

Still, you gesture toward the treatment table. “Sit.”

He climbs up like it’s his throne, kicking his feet a little like a kid. You move behind him, your hands finding the curve of his shoulders through his training shirt. His muscles are taut—okay, maybe he’s not lying this time.

You press gently into the knots, slow and firm.

“You ever consider stretching?” you ask dryly.

“I stretch,” he protests.

“Not enough, apparently.”

He huffs a little laugh. “Maybe I just need better motivation.”

There’s a beat of silence, your hands still working across his back. You feel his breathing shift—shallower, like he’s holding something in.

Then, softly, he says, “Y/N.”

You pause. “Yeah?”

“…I don’t care about the pain,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted a reason to talk to you.”

You blink. Your hands stop moving.

“I—I mean, it’s not like I’m faking injuries or anything,” he rushes to explain. “I really do get sore, but I could’ve handled it. I just… I like being around you.”

You move to his side, folding your arms.

“So instead of being normal and, I don’t know, asking me to hang out, you decided to fake chronic injury?”

He winces. “When you say it like that, it sounds dumb.”

“It is dumb,” you say, but your voice is soft. You’re smiling, and he sees it—your eyes giving you away.

You reach for his hand. His eyes widen slightly.

“You don’t need excuses, Isagi,” you say. “Next time, just say you wanna talk.”

“…Would that work?”

You squeeze his hand. “Try me.”

His grin spreads slowly—awkward, nervous, genuine.

“Okay. Then after your shift… wanna grab tea with me in the lounge?”

You pretend to consider it. “Only if you promise not to fake another injury tomorrow.”

He holds up his hands like a pledge. “Swear on my shooting foot.”

You laugh. “Fine. But if you actually get hurt next time, I’m gonna assume you’re lying.”

He winks. “Guess I’ll have to stay healthy, then.”

#car writes #isagi #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi #isagi yoichi x reader #bllk #blk #blue lock #blue lock x reader

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carleycore · 2 months ago

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!!!

Breaking Barriers

Warnings: mentions of abuse (his childhood)

The buzz of the stadium was deafening, the crowd’s energy a palpable force as they roared for the players on the field. Among them was Michael Kaiser, the football prodigy whose skills on the field were matched only by his enigmatic persona off it. He had always been a man of singular focus, driven by the pursuit of greatness and the thrill of the game. Love was an alien concept to him, an unnecessary distraction from his path to glory.

Michael’s childhood was marred by hardship. His mother left right after he was born, leaving him alone with his father, whose abuse left deep scars. His father, lost in his own struggles and insecurities, offered no warmth or affection. Football became his refuge, the one thing he could control, the one thing that made him feel valued. Love was a luxury he couldn’t afford, an illusion he never believed in.

Until he met you.

It was after a particularly grueling match that he saw you for the first time. You were in the stands, cheering with a passion that caught his attention. There was something in your eyes, a spark that resonated with him in a way he couldn’t quite explain. He found himself drawn to you, his gaze lingering on your face even as he walked off the field, drenched in sweat and triumph.

The opportunity to speak with you came at a post-match event, a charity gala where the players mingled with fans wealthy enough to attend and benefactors. He saw you across the room, your smile radiant as you engaged in conversation. Gathering his nerve, he approached you, his usual confident demeanor slightly faltering.

“Enjoyed the match?” he asked, his voice smooth yet tentative.

You turned to him, eyes lighting up in recognition. “It was amazing! You were incredible out there, as always.” You couldn't believe you were actually talking to him.

He smiled, a genuine one that reached his eyes. “Thanks. I’m Michael, by the way.”

“I know,” you replied with a laugh. “I’m Y/N.”

The evening passed in a blur of conversation and laughter. For the first time in his life, Michael felt a connection that had nothing to do with football. He found himself opening up to you, sharing stories and thoughts he usually kept to himself. You listened with genuine interest, your presence a soothing balm to his often chaotic mind.

As weeks turned into months, your bond deepened. You became his anchor, the person he sought out after every match, the one who grounded him when the pressure became too much. He found himself caring about your happiness, your dreams, your fears. It was a new sensation, one that both exhilarated and terrified him.

One evening, as you walked together in the city’s park, he finally admitted it. “You know, I’ve never felt like this before,” he confessed, stopping to look into your eyes. “Love, I mean. It’s always been about football for me. But with you… it’s different.”

You smiled, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. “Love is a powerful thing, Michael. It can change everything.”

His mind flashed back to his childhood, the nights spent alone, the harsh words, the absence of a comforting touch. He had built walls around his heart, fortresses to keep the pain at bay. But with you, those walls were crumbling.

“I was never shown love,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “Not by my mother, not by my father. Football was all I had. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

Your eyes softened with understanding. “I’m so sorry baby, but you deserve to be loved. You deserve to be happy.”

He leaned into your touch, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the physical exertion he was used to. “I think I’m starting to understand that,” he murmured.

As you stood there, under the fading light of the evening sky, Michael Kaiser realized that he had found something even more precious than victory on the field. He had found you, and with you, he had found love.

chat am i in love with Kaiser of all people?

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ @ᴄᴀʀʟᴇʏᴄᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ/ʀᴇᴡᴏʀᴋ/ʀᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ.

#michael kaiser #car writes #kaiser x reader #kaiser #bllk x reader #bllk kaiser #blue lock x reader #bllk

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carleycore · 2 months ago

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Old post!!

Eren seems like the type to crush hard on the new girl.

He'd volunteer to take you around the school and invite you to meet up at a coffee shop after school with him every day so you could catch up on information you missed out on the first few weeks.

He'd even offer to help you study late at night while you sit on his fat cock, getting slight rub on your clit whenever you'd answer a question right.

When you'd finish the entire paper he'd reward you by coming deep inside of you and cleaning you up.

He'd make sure you'd become his new girl.

#car writes #eren x reader #eren #aot #aot x reader #eren jaeger

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carleycore · 2 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 Ego finally gave the Blue Lock players access to gifts & letters from friends and family.

"Hurry up you diamonds in the rough, I don't have all day," Ego said dryly in one of his rare physical appearences.

"What's this about?" Igaguri asked, looking around.

"Woah, what's with all that stuff behind him?" Bachira asked, pointing out the boxes on the tables, filled with envelopes and boxes.

Rin rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall.

"Over the past few months, Anri has been setting up a P.O box that your friends and family could send things to you from." Ego explained, moving to pick up a box that must've been light as Ego looked pretty scrawny.

This piqued everyone's interest, as no one expected that.

"And I thought he'd be adding more training," Isagi whispered to Nagi who nodded.

Anri and Ego started handing the boxes to the players, "Now go open these in your rooms, I'm tired of seeing you."

Once everyone was in their respective rooms, they started sharing what they recieved.

"Guys look! I got a letter from my mom!" Igaguri boasted, running around showing off his singular letter.

"That it? Your family must hate you." Raichi laughed, looking at the Air pods he received.

Nagi, Bachira and Isagi watched from a distance. Laughing at the way they acted.

Bachira had dumped out everything he got, leaving a mess all over the floor, but no one was going to call him out on it.

"Woah, your mom sent you a lot," Isagi smiled, half-heartedly as he was reading a letter.

"You seem quite interested in that letter," Nagi mumbled as he set up his new iPad. Bachira jumped over Isagi's lap and ripped the paper out of his hands.

"Hey! Bachi-" He tried to snatch it back.

"Dear Yoichi, Ooh how cute!" Bachira started adding his own commentary. "Hiro and I miss you so much!"

Everyone in the room was now quiet and listening.

"Hiro? You're a father?" Nagi asked, showing sudden interest.

"He's, our cat." Isagi answered with a slight blush on his face.

Chigiri was digging through the box pulling out all sorts of things, "I never expected Isagi to have a girlfriend. Much less one that actually likes him."

Rin walked over and pulled out a polaroid you'd sent him with a picture of you two on a date. "She's too pretty for you." He said, putting the photo back into the box and walking back to his bed.

Mumbles of agreement wafted around the room.

"Okay!" Isagi snatched the letters, gifts and pictures floating around the room and put them back in the box.

"Aw, you're no fun." Bachira pouted, falling onto his back.

Once a majority of the NPCs walked away Bachira sat back up and laughed, "Can't wait until I can meet Y/N, bestie!"

And how could Isagi be mad at that?

𝜗𝜚 A week later, Ego was allowing them to write letters home, and you can imagine your surprise when you receive a letter saying,

"Wow! You're super gorgeous! I don't know why Yoichi kept you hidden from us. Can't wait to meet you after the U-20s match! XOXO MEGURU BACHIRA!!!!"

#car writes #bachira #isagi #isagi x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #yoichi isagai #isagi yoichi #yoichi x reader #bllk x reader

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carleycore · 4 months ago

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WHAT THE HELL THIS IS SO HOT

Tags: [mlw][aged up][mdni][friends][little bit of crack][missionary][loss of v-card][tiny tags][bickering][breeding kink if you narrow your eyes][porn with plot]

"I've watched enough porn to know how to do it, dumbass."

"Yeah? And I don't trust you near my coochie. You crushed a Pepsi can with your finger today."

"Don't say 'coochie'."

"What then? Pussy?" You scoff.

"Vagina."

And you lower the Cosmopolitan magazine, your expression bored and upper lip curled in distaste as you watch Mark, reclined on his bed as he absentmindedly tosses a paper ball into the air, catching it with ease, only to throw it back up.

The motion is repetitive, boring to watch but you can't deny the appeal of watching that little muscle in his forearm twitch beneath his skin.

"I'll call my genitalia whatever I want, thank you very much. And you shouldn't mimic porn." You state. "A lot of that stuff isn't real and pardon me, but I want an actual orgasm when I lose my virginity."

Mark let's out a snort of laughter, perching up and resting his weight in his elbows, the edge of his sweater raising the tiniest bit and you catch a peek of a neat, dark little happy trail that disappears beneath the fabric of his clothing.

"I can guarantee an orgasm." Mark boasts. "I'll bet anything."

"If I don't cum, I want you to grow a full bush and then, wear cycling shorts for a week."

Your wager has Mark's lips pursing, chocolate pools moving towards the ceiling as he weighs his options. "Oddly specific but okay." Mark shrugs. "And if you cum, anytime I learn a sex trick, I get to try it on you. Unless you get into a relationship but," he snorts, "let's be realistic."

The insult has you flinging the magazine across the bedroom, hitting Mark in the face with the spine and he winces, although, you know it's more out of habit than from actual feeling.

"It's so weird." He mumbles. "I don't feel your abuse anymore."

Mark's grin is cocky.

"Oh, Marky," you coo, lifting yourself from his desk chair and you cradle his face in your hands, an action that's so familiarly condescending but Mark can't help but lean into your warm palms, "you're only unaffected by the physical abuse. I can still hurt you self-esteem."

Mark's eyes narrow at you. "Try it." There's a challenge in his voice that you just can't ignore. Especially when he's looking at you like that. Brown eyes trained intensely on you, black strands tousled ever so slightly from the long day he's had.

"You have feminine hands." And you swear, the way his expression falls is an aphrodisiac in of itself before you straighten up.

"It's easy to hurt your ego, Marky." You hum. "Heroes get a lot of hate if they do something wrong. But lucky for you, you have years of experience."

"Yeah," Mark hums, "no one's a bigger dick than you."

"It's so weird that you're losing your virginity on your parents' anniversary." You hum quietly, carefully traveling along the sides of Mark's bedroom, attaching the LED light strips along the cornish.

"Don't make it weird." Mark grumbles, stepping out of the bathroom, wrapped in a fuzzy robe as he towel dries his hair, messy strands poking in every direction and he watches you with amusement. "Their anniversary is like, the only time when they travel far enough that I can't hear them. So.... It's the only night I can do it."

"They probably don't want you to hear them fucking." You hum, almost absentmindedly and when Mark gags, you let out a laugh and your foot slips from the backrest of his desk chair, and you slip.

But instead of meeting the carpeted floor in an unceremonious crash, you instead crash into Mark's chest, his arms wrapped around your midsection and your knees tucked up. And he dips his head low, head tilted.

"You okay?"

And if your pussy didn't have a heartbeat before, it does now. The way he looks down at you, his expression so soft, brows creased in concern and his lips. So soft and inviting, the scent of mint lingering in the air and you nod your head.

"Mhm," you mutter quietly, "I'm okay."

Mark sets you on your feet, before examining where you had stuck the lights and he nods his head, a grin cocking at his lips.

"Yeah, this is a mood setter."

"Can I open my eyes now?" Mark grumbles, arms folded over his chest but his eyes are closed, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones and you let out a hum.

"Go ahead." You mumble and he allows his eyes to open and drink in the sight of you.

Freshly showered, steam still rising from your skin and in his T-shirt. The faded Batman shirt ends just below your crotch, your ankle socks aren't even matching and your hair's tied into a bun that looks so half-assed.

You look nervous. Eyes lowered to the carpet and Mark reaches forward, large hands bracketing your hips and his thumbs brush over the trimming of your panties. And he pulls you to stand between his thighs, his head tips back and his chin comes up to rest on your sternum as he stares up at you.

"We don't have—" "I want to." You interrupt him, your hands raising to rest on either side of his neck, thumbs brushing along his jawline. "I want to." You repeat quietly, looking down at Mark.

The plan is to lose your virginities before the gap year is over. Because you'd both much rather make a mistake with each other than with strangers.

"Move your hand."

Mark lets out a snicker of laughter, your thighs tossed over his and his tip notched at your entrance, and he can barely think.

Not when he knows how tightly you felt around his fingers, sucking him in with such a neediness, not when he saw the way your brows knitted into the prettiest little pinched expression when his tongue lapped against your clit just right.

"I looked at the logistics of it and it's not gonna fit."

You state, and those pretty brown eyes roll at your words, before Mark slaps your hand away, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock and he taps it against your clit. Just to watch the way your stomach caves in with an unsteady breath.

"It'll fit." Mark reassures. "Trust me, I'm a doctor."

And you let out a laugh, your body slumped against the mattress and you snort.

"No you're n—nahh..."

Mark watches the way your head tips back when he pushes his tip past the ring of muscle, and he watches the way your eyes shut, brows knitting into a pinch.

"You little... Fuck.."

You breathe out, your expression a little pouty frown and Mark moves a strand of hair out of your face, leaning forward and as he presses a kiss to your forehead, he pushes another inch inside.

And as you gasp, his lips press against yours, and Mark swallows each moan and groan of pain, his forearm supporting his weight while his other hand grips your hip, thumb brushing over the protruding bone of your hip and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

"You're so warm..." Mark murmurs into the kiss, but he keeps his hips still, slotted between your thighs and he feels your gummy walls pulsing around him, trying to get used to the intrusion. And Mark lifts his head, kissing the apples of your cheeks.

"So I'm big, huh?"

He teases and watching as your pained expression gives way to an annoyed expression, eyes bored and brows furrowed.

"Just fuck me already."

You grumble.

And Mark pulls out, until just the rosy tip of his cock is poked into your sopping cunt, before he slowly pushes back into you.

The stretch burns, and you can feel the way your nails dig into your palms and you take a deep breath. His hips are pressed against yours, and you can feel that painful pinch behind your navel.

"Are you inside yet?" You question, peeking up at Mark through your lashes, enough to watch the way that dorkish grin spread across his face as he readjusts his position, leaning forward and shifting himself to rest more comfortably.

"Ha-ha, very funny." He rolls his eyes, his voice just a tad breathy and his hands move, thumbs moving your pussy lips out of the way, spreading them so he can see the pinkish flesh that swallows him whole.

"Mark!" You hiss, swatting away his hands, and covering your folds from his view. "What are you doing?"

"They do it in porn!" He defends, moving his hands to rest on your hips instead as his hips slowly begin to roll against you, the soft strands of his happy trail tickles your neglected and swollen clit, and you take a shaky breath.

"Those people are ass naked." You deadpan. "You've never even seen my feet."

With one hand, Mark shifts the covers and lets out a bark of laughter at the sight of your socks, still on your feet. And he reaches back for your ankle, lifting your leg and he places a soft kiss on the inside of your foot, causing your walls to flutter around him.

His kiss is warm through the cotton, a lingering show of affection as his hips thrust, cock nudging your insides to his shape. And he lowers your foot.

"Put your foot on my chest. I wanna try something." Mark hums quietly, resting your sock covered foot on his chest. And you let out a snort.

"My pussy isn't a skate park. You can't try things you've never done." You huff, but you comply, keeping your foot against his brawny chest, even as Mark shifts you into position, straddling your one thigh and resting your foot on his chest.

And when he moves, your foot slides off his chest, instead, resting beside him. And a snicker slips past your lips at the frustrated expression on his face.

"Please participate." Mark grumbles, moving your foot, and resting your leg over his shoulder, ignoring the way a laugh ruptures from your lips.

Kiss-swollen and pouty lips curling into a wicked grin.

"Bro said 'please par—'... Shit..."

Your eyes roll back in your head when the divot of Mark's tip presses against your cervix, pressing a sloppy, slick kiss against the plug as he grinds into you, leaning forward and pressing his lips against the curve of your jaw.

Mark isn't even fucking you anymore.

He's slowly rutting into you, pressing adorning kisses to the side of your face, sucking marks into the supple skin of your neck while he slowly fucks an orgasm out of you.

Kissing you deeply, his hand grasping the fat of your hip while the other massages the plumpness of your thigh, pressing a warm kiss against your calf before going back to swallowing your honeyed moans.

"... shit, you're gonna make me come..." You breathe out, your nails dragging lines down the expanse of his muscular and slightly damp back, the pain and pleasure mixing into a delicious concoction that has Mark burying his face into your neck.

Inhaling the scent of you.

"Mhm.... 's okay, baby, come for me..."

His voice is husky, a low timbre that makes your stomach knot and you whine when you feel that wave of ecstasy crash over you, waves breaking on the jagged rocks of your being and you're lashes flutter, tears brimming on your lower lashline because you're just so... Full.

Mark perches up, wiping the teardrops from your cheeks and he looks down at your hazy and flushed expression. His gaze lingering on your lips, wet and rosy, and before he even registers, your hand is on his face.

"Stop making such heavy eye contact." You whine. "You're gonna make me catch feelings."

And a laugh tumbles from his lips.

"You know, I have your entire future in my hands right now." Mark states quietly and when you hum, quietly mumbling a 'how do you mean', he simply presses a kiss against your pulse.

"I could fuck a baby into you right now." Mark breathes out.

"And you'd thank me for it."

#mark grayson #mark grayson x reader #invincible #mark grayson x reader smut #invincible x reader smut #invincible x reader #car recs #car loves

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carleycore · 4 months ago

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ts fye

mark grayson & fem!reader, MDNI cw. unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy

"ow, ow, ow." you whined.

"sorry." mark whispered, loosening his grip on the fat of your waist. "sorry."

"s'okay." you hummed, shifting on top of his lap. the second you moved, he was gripping you again, hissing as his fingers dug into you painfully. "mark!"

"i'm sorry!" he said hurriedly, snatching his hands from your body completely and curling them in fists at his side. "maybe this was a mistake."

the mistake? letting him fuck raw. it started as a joke, like "oh baby, i love you so much i wish i could get rid of this thing keeping me away from you," as if it wasn't just a flimsy barrier of latex, so thin, but apparently enough to create a distance for him.

he laughed when he said it, like it was a far fetched idea that would never come to pass. but nothing is off limits with you. not where he's concerned.

naturally, he did not expect you to agree. couldn't stop the rush of blood to his dick when you said, "you can get rid of it, as long as you pull out."

those were magic words if he's ever heard any, and who was he to reject the gift you've given him?

"just..." his breath caught in his throat, groaning involuntarily when your nails scratched the back of his neck. "stay still."

"mark," you whine. "i don't have super strong legs like you do."

he was on his back. you straddled him, legs folded in a squat so low that your heels poked just underneath your ass. you tried your hardest not to sink down on him completely. he was barely halfway inside your pussy when he begged you to stop with an urgency. but it was getting harder and harder now that you could feel every groove and vein of his cock twitching inside your walls.

your hand curled around the base of his neck while the other clung to his broad shoulders, the sweat of his skin making your palms all clammy.

you pouted, huffing impatiently. "you were the one that wanted this."

"i know, baby." he hummed hoarsely. he looked like a virgin, all tense underneath your naked body. besides his curled fists, his head was thrown back and his eyes were closed. "but i'm gonna cum if you move."

you blinked down at him, fighting the urge to laugh and failing. "seriously?"

his body heats up at the sound and he peeks open one eye, brows furrowed in offense. "don't laugh."

"it's kinda funny." you hum and lean down. "kinda cute."

mark catches the way your eyes were lidded, the way you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to stop your sweet giggles. the swell of your tits, hard nipples pressing against his chest, your hair brushing against his skin as you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth—

"fuck," his hips bucked up, jolting you in his lap. you squeaked as your hips were finally seated flush against him with a wet plap! you tumbled against him, face planted into the crook of his neck.

fully sheathed in your gummy walls, mark thinks he's found heaven. you were so warm, so wet, so soft. and squeezing the life out of him—he was this close to getting you pregnant, he could feel it.

the satisfied moan that leaves your lips almost made him feel bad. but for the sake of your future, he had to take extra caution.

"okay, wait." mark inhaled a shaky breath before gripping your arms, pushing you up and away from his face. a shiver snakes its way down your spine at how easily he manhandles you, keeping your torso upright above him. he has to physically turn his head to stop his eyes from trailing along the delicious arch in your back. "don't move. i'm gonna—" he starts to pull his hips back ever so carefully. "slowly—"

"mm..." your thighs press tight around his hips, pussy tightening around him like it was begging him not to leave, to stay warm and deep inside your pretty little cunt.

"fuck—babe," he whined, brown eyes pleading as they gazed up at you. "you're not helping."

mark was gripping you way too hard again, his hips stuttering in place. you were squirming in his lap, grinding against him and he grunts, eyes screwing shut.

"mmf, m'sorry, you just feel sooo good." your eyes flutter, whimpering breathily when your aching hole was finally, finally getting the attention it needed. not enough, but still better than nothing. "we need to do this more often..."

the fact he was doing this at all coupled with the thought of doing this a second time made his head spin.

"i seriously wasn't—ah—kidding before." he choked on his words when he felt your glossy pussy clench around him, spilling slick around his pulsing red tip.

think about anything else, he begs himself. there was a new issue of seance dog coming out soon. oh, and a collectible. did he have enough money for that? holy shit, he could hear the smack of your ass against his thighs loud and clear.

his eyes flickered to your face, twisted with pleasure. you were so pretty. he loves you. he wants to grow old and retire with you. leave this fucked up hero thing behind someday. how many more times will he get to lose himself in your soft skin, body rolls, and perfect tight pussy before he kicks the bucket? he could've died happy even after the first time with you.

"y/n—"

"cum inside," you demand, brows furrowed in exertion from holding back. you wanted him to fuck you like he meant it, like how he usually does.

mark's heart lurches in his chest, his cock twitching inside you that pulls a string of moans from your pretty lips. his cheeks heat up. "y-you don't mean that." you couldn't mean that. "you said—"

"forget what i said." your head hung loose above him, upper body still suspended in the air. "cum inside." your voice was pleading, a near sob as you begged for him. "please?"

mark never told his girl no and he wasn't going to start now.

he brought you down against his chest, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. cradling you close as he pistons his hips deep inside your cunt. "yeah," he grunted, shifting his hips to get some better leverage, slamming up into you without any inhibition. "you're so fucking hot, god, you feel so good—"

all you could offer him was a strangled moan, feeling him in your stomach, chest, throat.

"fuck. i love you," he whined so sweetly, hugging you close and sinking his teeth down onto your shoulder. "m'gonna cum, but i'll make it up to you, baby, promise—"

within the next second, you felt his body tense. his grip on your ass was bruising, heavy balls tightening and spilling hot strings of cum deep inside you. his cock was coated with his own release, a milky white ring collecting at his base. you moaned softly against his skin, feeling warm and full, satisfied with the way he panted in your ear.

he didn't bother to pull out. he pumped into you slowly, fucking his cum deep inside. if he was gonna do it, might as well do it right.

then he rolled you over, laying you delicately against the sheets with a breathy chuckle, like he'd just won the jackpot. he brushed some hair out of your face and kissed your forehead.

"you're right, we do need to do this more often." he hummed, pinning your wrists beside your head and intertwining your fingers. "now, how do you want me?"

#invincible #invincible x reader #car recs

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carleycore · 4 months ago

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Rs.

I’ve been staring at him for so long that I feel pregnant

#car agrees #kaiser

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carleycore · 4 months ago

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Dad Sae>>>

i’m so obsessed with your writing, it’s not even funny. Especially the way you write sae, it has me on a chokehold ughh😊🙏

“𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐝, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫”

a/n: OH YOU LEMME SQUEEZE YOU IN A TIGHT HUG THROUGH THE SCREEN??? THANK YOUUU!!!

just for that, you’re getting this:

sae really thought that he was going to have a baby boy.

after all, he had a brother, and the rest of his family were mostly boys, too (a/n: not canon but wouldn’t be surprised if it was).

so when the OB/GYN hands over your newborn baby to him, his eyes almost pop out of his sockets and his pumping heart nearly breaks the sound barrier when he sees that he’s now the father of a girl. he has a daughter.

“awww were you hoping for a boy?” you joke, playfully teasing your husband.

“i was expecting a boy, but i’m not complaining.” you watch a small smile form onto his lips, a proud sign of an exciting new beginning.

a year has passed and your baby girl’s features are becoming more prominent.

her teal eyelids, very tired-like but still pretty, are framed by long bottom eyelashes, identical to her dad’s. everything else, from her skin to her hair, looks like you.

“sae-kun, she’s so pretty!” sae’s manager, girolan, exclaims, as he holds up your baby girl in his arms like that one scene from the lion king.

in response, sae only scoffs and side-eyes him. he can’t help it, he’s overprotective of his daughter and is getting uncomfortable by the second.

your baby girl just stares at girolan, before doing the same, exhaling a puff of air, turning her chubby face, and side-eyeing him.

girolan is baffled and immediately hands your daughter back to you. “did… did she just –”

you’re breaking out into laughter, cutting off the overthinking man who is now afraid to hold your daughter again.

your baby girl only scoffs, turns her head, and side-eyes him again, and you’re laughing harder than you have ever had in your entire life, your baby girl wondering why her mom is shaking like crazy.

“what?” sae asks you. “what’s so funny?”

“she’s doing the same thing you do!”

“huh?”

your baby girl notices the laughter and does the same thing to girolan for a third time.

“the scoff, head turn, and side-eye!” you laugh, holding your baby girl closely and nuzzling your nose with hers in a fit of giggles, contagiously spreading to her and now she’s doing the same.

“oh so she learned from sae…” girolan sighs. “so sassiness is a gene after all...”

sae gently pinches his daughter’s chubby cheeks. “picking up on my attitude already, princess? you really are my daughter, aren’t you?”

#sae itoshi #itoshi sae #sae x reader #car recs

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carleycore · 5 months ago

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Love.

[The Ideal Gaze]

lab tester: @ichigosluvrr 🩻

pairing: DadBod!Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

summary: Miguel is feeling a bit out of your league, so you remind him that he’s just in your lane.

content warning: established relationship (they’re married with kids!), domestic fluff, mild hurt/comfort due to Miguel being an idiot that does not understand The Female Gaze, some miscommunication between reader and Miguel, 18+ so MDNI, a little raunchier than I intended tbh but hopefully I presented DB!Mig well, body worship, heated tension, reader is like obsessed with Miguel’s new Dad Bod, deepthroat 😗, missionary position, unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾), the word Ma as a term of endearment from Miguel to reader two times

word count: 5.3k, halfway proofread

a/n: Fulfilling this first because this was technically my first request! I added a few more elements (thank you Miguel server!), so I hope you don’t mind. There were no specific requests other than fluff and smut, so I went with the flow. I hope you enjoy! (Also, I found the original artist's post here!! Go give them some love!)

Your blood is pumping as you round the corner, only a few more steps until you reach the driveway.

The jog today was pretty refreshing. There were no calls from work asking about things that could wait until 8 AM, no toddler fussing about waking up, and no child whining about getting homework done. It was just you, your FitBit, your steamy audiobook, and the lingering thoughts of meeting your husband’s eyes this morning. Lately, it’s been like a little game to rile him up.

You’ve been married for a few years and a family of four for seven years with a sweet little girl, a second grader with the attitude of an old lady, and a precious little boy, a preschooler with keen intuition. With your lives being consumed with work and taking care of the kids, you feel like your relationship has been put on the back burner. Long gone were the days in which you two made love at the drop of a hat, fucking on anything that could hold you. Now, you were lucky enough to get a little dry humping.

It was getting depressing, and more annoyingly, frustrating, so you started to put your riled-up energy elsewhere. You were up at the crack of dawn making everyone’s lunches and going on occasional jogs, you were using your PTO for brunches with the girls and spa days, you had regular pilates classes, the real pilates, and most importantly, you were finding small pockets of time for yourself.

From buying yourself small gifts to filling your Kindle with romance books to pleasuring yourself on the nights Miguel worked overtime. You were sure to keep yourself busy. All of that, and you still couldn’t get the thought of Miguel entangled with you out of your head.

You heaved out as you stopped at the end of the driveway, taking a few breaths to calm your state. The book you were listening to was on a particularly enthralling scene and you wondered if it was something that Miguel would be interested in trying.

You looked down at yourself and decided to unzip the top of your athletic jacket, letting the tightness of your bra and the fabric push your cleavage up. One smooth swipe of your clothes and you were walking to the front door.

It was 6:40 AM, so there was plenty of time to have a little quiet moment with your husband.

You walked into the kitchen and saw him standing in all of his glory. A newspaper in his left hand, because some things didn’t need to be digitized, a “Best Papá Ever” mug in his right hand, black glasses on his face, and your favorite thing, a naked plush torso on display.

In the first years of parenthood, his metabolism was through the roof. Despite him joining you for every snack, meal, and midnight dessert, he never lost that tiny little waist or those washboard abs. It wasn’t until your youngest was born and babbling that his appearance started to change. His arms became a mix of muscle and cellulite, his thighs were softer than ever, his chest was full and plump, and his waist widened gifting you with his soft belly and a happy trail that continued to his belly button.

The early time didn’t stop the coil of neediness in your stomach from forming.

“Good morning, hubby,” you say with a lilt to your voice. You walked closer to him, an extra bounce in your step, and leaned on the island.

Sure enough, Miguel was peeking at your chest from over his glasses, mug hovering over his lips.

You only smiled coyly, waiting for his response.

“Good morning. How was your jog?” he puts the newspaper and mug down, folding his arms under his chest.

You stared at his bulging arms, pressed-up pecs, and his tummy that moved with him and almost whined.

“It was really good. Super nice and refreshing. Maybe a little warm,” you crossed your legs, impatient. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s better,” he says, making the short distance to crowd your space. He leans over you, hands going to the island. “My wife is here now.”

You smile at his words, hands itching to touch him but not wanting to ruin the stride. Instead, you look up at him and pan his lips.

“I’m feeling better, too,” you whisper, waiting.

Miguel leans forward to press his lips onto yours, the smell of coffee hitting your senses. You feel little fireworks go off as he starts to open your mouth. Everything felt just right in this moment.

When his hand slid across your back, you almost jumped up to wrap your legs around him. You tilted your head and wrapped your arms around his neck. You could feel yourself slipping against the counter, but Miguel was right there to steady you.

For what felt like hours to you after so long of a heated connection, the two of you made out on the kitchen island. Only some birds chirping, the occasional car passing by, and the hum of the washing machine could be heard next to the sound of you both breathing into each other’s lips

“Come with me to the shower?” you say, eyes heavy and pleading.

You could feel Miguel tense up, back rigid as he moved back.

“I better stay. Raul might wake up soon and he was having a hard time sleeping last night.”

Your heart dropped at the rejection. You were hoping that this would be the one, the moment that you’ve been anticipating for months. Some form of sexual connection.

“Ok. I’ll be out soon,” you turn and go to the master bathroom, tugging the zipper down hastily. You felt a bit dejected and embarrassed, but you’re trying to let it go. Your mommy side knows that your youngest woke up in distress last night so it makes perfect sense that Miguel wants to be alert for his cries, but your wife side wants her husband back and can’t help but feel like he didn’t want you.

With this brisk shower, you hoped this self-doubt and neediness washed away with it.

You tapped your fingers against the desk, staring off at your computer. Work today was slow, which you didn’t mind because that meant you could frequent your watchlist, but your mind kept wandering off while watching some random K-drama.

Last night, you woke up to what sounded like Miguel getting off in the bathroom.

He got off work super late that day, so you took the initiative to get the kids to bed and go to bed early.

What you didn’t expect was to wake up to the sound of his grunts coming through the bathroom door.

At first, you were a little hurt that he didn’t wake you up to help him out, but then you were so overcome by the sound of him whimpering and moaning that you couldn’t help but pleasure yourself.

He sounded so desperate and wanton, cursing every once in a while. You bit your lip as you imagined him right next to you, voice right in your ear. You wanted his weight on you. You wanted to feel his skin against yours.

You lay in the empty bed rubbing yourself until you came, his noises stopping a while before you finished. You were hoping he would come out and see you so you prolong your orgasm to no avail, sleep coming to claim you before he did.

When you tried to ask him about it in the morning, he kept avoiding your eyes, saying something about his stomach giving him the blues.

You let it go then, but that didn’t stop you from thinking about it all day.

In a spur-of-the-moment decision, you decide to text him a flirty message, running to the bathroom to take a picture to match. You waited a little bit, hoping that he could take at least a peek.

“You look gorgeous, honey.”

Just gorgeous? Not hot? Not good enough to make him want more?

You scrunched your mouth to the side, asking if he could send a picture back.

“Baby, you know I can’t. I’m at work right now.”

You huffed at that. You knew he was just in his lab by himself. There was plenty of time and solitude to take a picture. He used to send random pictures of himself all of the time.

For the rest of the day, you were irritated, feeling slighted at the hands of your husband.

You took a break from trying to seduce your husband, tired of the pushback. You put your all into taking care of the kids and maintaining the house when you could.

“And how many sticks does that leave Cassie with?” you asked Gabriella. You both were at the dining table with her math homework sprawled everywhere while dinner was in the oven.

“27!” she shouted, voice becoming more confident over the course of the math sheet.

“Correct! You’re knocking ‘em out, girl!”

“Buen trabajo, mija,” Miguel said with vigor as he came by to kiss the top of her head. “You’re doing so well.” (Good job, mija.)

“Does this mean I can get a cookie?” she asked, quick to melt her father’s heart.

“Not before dinner, Gabriella, you know this,” Miguel bounced Raul in his arms, a little fussy and sniffly.

“Please, papá!” she looked up at him with big brown eyes and a pout.

Miguel sighed, unable to say no to her 9 times out of 10.

He looked at you frantically, watching you snickering behind your hands, “You have to ask Mamá.”

Whenever he really wanted to say no, he used you as a trump card.

Gabriella’s shoulders drop as she turns to you, already knowing the drill.

“The answer is no. You can wait until after dinner,” you say, squeezing her cheek.

“You always say no,” Gabriella whines dramatically, slumping in her seat with her arms crossed, pout just like her dad’s.

“And you can always go to bed with no cookies,” you chide as you get up to go check on dinner. “Now go put your homework up and wash your hands, dinner is almost ready.”

She puts her papers back in her folder with the theatrics of a Broadway actor, sighing dramatically with each step she took to her room.

Miguel laughed at her actions watching her leave, “She’s just like her Mami when she gets like that. Fussy.”

You pause to put your hand on your hip, “No, she’s just like her Father when she can’t get her way. Whiny.” You open the oven and pull the lasagna out to the stove to cool a bit.

“Well, I can’t say no to her just like I can’t say no to you,” he says, placing Raul at the table with a hand running over his soft hair. “You both have the same puppy-dog eyes.”

“You like leaving the hard parenting to me.”

“That is not true. I just tussled with a four-year-old to get him to take his cold medicine and made a promise of not one, but two bedtime stories,” he says, coming up behind you as you reached to get the dishes. He got them down for you instead, hand on your hips and stomach pressed against your back.

You bite your tongue in order not to will your negligent, horny brain from awakening. You didn’t have time for those thoughts, little feet were near, and every advance you gave him ended in failure.

“Is he doing ok?” you say, referring to Raul he sat at the table with his head down, a teddy bear hugged against him as he pitifully moved his toy car back and forth. It was definitely a big shift from his usual talkative demeanor.

“We might have to go to the doctor again. His allergies are really acting up.”

You leave Miguel’s side to go squat down by Raul, “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

You rubbed his back, trying to see if he felt warmer than usual and sure enough, he was burning up.

“My throat hurts, Mama,” he said, little voice just about gone.

“Oh, I know, my sweet baby,” you say with a soft voice. “Do you want me to make you some alphabet soup?”

Raul’s face twists up, lip a little wobbly, “But I want some cheese noodles.”

“Hey, it’s ok!. You can have some lasagna. I just want your throat to feel better. Hot things will make it feel better.”

“The cheese noodles are hot, too.”

You smiled, “That’s right, the cheese noodles are hot, but I mean a hot liquid.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, hands squeezing his teddy bear as he thought, “Can I have hot chocolate?”

“Of course you can. Can I give you a kiss?”

He nods his head slowly and you lean over to kiss his head. You needed to get him under the covers soon. Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arms around your neck, snuggling up to be held. You couldn’t resist holding your baby, especially when you couldn’t take his pain away.

You get up to see Miguel helping Gabriella plate the slices of lasagna on each plate and setting up the side salad. Your heart filled with joy watching them giggle over the stretchy cheese. It was moments like this that reminded you that you were taking the right steps, that this was the perfect little life.

As they set up the table with the plates and drinks, you kept Raul in your arms, ready to help him with tonight's dinner.

“Thank you for the food, Mommy,” Gabriella said with a toothy smile.

“You’re welcome, baby,” you say, cutting Raul’s food up even smaller, not wanting him to struggle any more than he had to tonight.

The table was quiet, save for Gabriella and Miguel smacking their food occasionally and Raul’s wheezy breaths.

By the time dinner was over, Gabriella was buzzing in her seat for cookies, and Raul was close to falling asleep in your arms.

You couldn’t ask for anything better.

With Raul sound asleep, Gabriella tucked in bed, and Miguel watching cable, you had a moment to yourself to think.

Did today’s small touches mean anything?

You stood in the bathroom moisturizing your skin after a hot bath. You said you were going to stop trying to fish for your husband’s attention, but if you were honest, today’s brief moment of connection did it for you. You couldn’t stop your thoughts once you were alone.

You decide to wear just a pair of panties and one of his old t-shirts to bed: a look that wasn’t trying too hard to get his attention, but you’re sure he’s going to notice it.

You sat on the bed and decided to read until he came into the room. You hope you were giving a sexy girlfriend vibe. Your skin was all smooth, you smelled good, and you knew you looked good.

When Miguel walks in, he pauses at the door to stare at you.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Come to bed,” you say.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Miguel shuffled over, eyeing you from head to toe. He looked delicious in his tank top, fabric stretched in the best possible ways.

He crawled on the bed next to you, “My band t-shirt?”

“Yeah! It’s comfy.”

He rubbed his hand up your naked thigh and your nerves started to sing. Any further up, and you might just wet your panties from his touch alone. You missed it so much.

He leaned over to kiss the juncture your neck and shoulder, your neck, your cheek, and then he stopped.

He just…stopped.

“Well, I gotta go in earlier tomorrow, so I’m going to sleep early. Is it ok if I turn this light off?

You felt your throat dry up, “Yeah, ok.”

He got under the sheets and switched his lamp off, leaving you in the dark with the faint light of your Kindle illuminating the room.

“Goodnight, honey,” he said with a yawn.

“Night.”

You turned your Kindle off and just sat in silence, his snores breaking the illusion of the dark consuming you.

You’re starting to think the worst.

You kept up a number of tactics subtle to glaringly obvious to appeal to your husband from changing up your perfume to what you would say was an amazing strip tease. Absolutely nothing is working.

He kept listing off excuses from the kids to his job to his parents to his brother, anything to avoid an intimate session with you. He even chose a night out with his boys over a night in bed with you which was jarring because he always made you feel good before going out to have a good time.

Did he not find you attractive anymore? You knew childbirth brought a lot of change, but you were still the same woman he met and fell in love with.

Did he not love you anymore? He often praised you for being a good mom and his pet names never stopped, but after that, his declaration of love for you had been very surface-level.

Is he cheating on you?

You really didn’t want to entertain that thought, but your heart couldn’t take any more pain than it already had.

So, one day when you say you’re taking the kids to the park, you drop them off at your mom’s place instead, hoping that if there was something going on, no little hearts would be broken once you unleash a beast in the house.

You pull back in the driveway to see that he’s still here, just as you suspected. You make your way quietly through the house, inching closer to you all’s bedroom.

Your heart almost stops when you hear the sound of Miguel’s voice, high and breathy in a way that should only reach your ears. You don’t think when you swing the door open, adrenaline pumping high.

Miguel yells, scared to death but alone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, voice frustrated.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?”

You look at the state he’s in, shirt up, waistband under his dick, and a mystery fabric in his hand.

“Were you getting off?” you say, hands dropping to your side. “Do you…do you not love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Do you. Not. Love me anymore. You avoid me every time I’ve tried to initiate something with you. We haven’t made love in so long. You keep making excuses to not be alone with me. You don’t even want to do normal things with me like send pictures or makeout until we’re out of breath. I’ve heard you in the bathroom during the night and now you’re here doing the same thing, without me, your wife.” Your eyes start to water after it all, feeling utter defeat.

“Cariño, this is a misunderstanding,” he pleads, voice distraught. “I do love you. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me?”

“Because,” he pauses, fixing his clothes to have some decency. “I…haven’t felt the greatest about my body.”

Your tears dry up as soon as the statement resonates, “What? What do you mean?”

Miguel sighs.

“Lately, it’s getting harder and harder for my old clothes to fit me anymore, I’m way too busy to hit the gym and more than anything, I think you deserve a man who’s a little less,” he gestures to himself, “let go.”

“Says who?”

He looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads, “Uh, everybody?”

“Well, who is everybody because I’d like to strangle them for letting you think that my husband isn’t good enough for me.” You walk deeper into the bedroom crowding Miguel’s space. “You’ll always be perfect for me. The vows I promised to you will not be broken over something so normal as weight gain.”

He looked like he could cry.

“Why did you hide you were feeling this way, baby?” you hold his head in your hands scratching at his scalp.

“It felt stupid and silly. You’ve been doing so well socially and physically, I wanted to see if I could fix it on my own before bringing you down with my problems.”

“Miguel O’Hara,” you say, gripping his jaw firmly. “I’m your wife. I might not be able to solve everything, but at the very least, you need to talk to me. Tell me how you’re feeling, express yourself with words. Don’t hide.”

He wrapped his arms around you, sniffling, “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

You pressed a long kiss into his scalp, rubbing his back.

“Oh my gosh,” you chuckled. “You were feeling so much internally, meanwhile I was practically screaming at you to fuck me. I thought you weren’t attracted to me anymore.”

So much for communication.

Miguel just burried his face in your chest while he groaned, “That’s the thing! You were driving me crazy with your tight little workout clothes and your lingerie. You looked so good, but I couldn’t get out of my own head. I’ve been…”

“You’ve been what?”

“I,” he got red in the face. “I’ve been using your underwear.”

You look down to Miguel’s crumbled up hand and it was in fact your underwear from the night you wore his band t-shirt, drenched in his essence.

Your stomach turned with excitement.

“So this is what you were doing in the bathroom in the middle of the night, hm? Using my panties? Giving them more action and attention than me?”

Miguel nodded, eyes hazy.

“Did it feel good?”

Another nod.

“I bet it did. I would wake up and hear you trying so hard to cum.”

You don’t know how, but his face got even warmer.

“You left your poor wife all alone, thinking about you on top of her until she came too.”

“I did?”

“You didn’t know?” you ask, playfully. “I was up all night imagining you walking out to see me. I wanted these arms to come and hold me.”

You squeeze at his arms on your sides.

“I wanted your weight on me. I wanted your chest against mine.I needed you so bad.”

You move to sit in his lap, knees on the side of him.

“You do such a great job of being a father. This beautiful change in your body is only proof of your hard work and dedication. It’s proof of love for your family.”

Miguel only melted in your hands, face a cloud of emotion.

“I love you, Miguel. I adore you. I yearn for you. I want you.”

With every declaration, came a kiss to his lips.

“Can I show you how much I love you?”

“Please.”

With that, you took his shirt off and made your way down his chest. You lingered around his chest, holding his pecs as you kissed them all over. You couldn’t stop your moans as your tongue felt across the hairy planes of his chest, sucking and pulling on his nipples. Miguel shudders as you pay special attention to them, sensitive after not being with you for so long.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” you breathe into his skin. You slide onto the floor and just press your face into his stomach.

“You like it that much?”

“Love it. You look so yummy walking around. You could be just standing there and I get so,” you cut yourself off, trying not to overwhelm him with just how much you were feeling. “You’re hot, baby.”

You kiss down his happy trail to reach his pants, his stomach twitching. You tugged a bit too hard on his pants, causing him to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you say with a pout.

“I haven’t seen you like this since we won that couple’s retreat.”

“Not my fault. You were all sexy up there, beating the other husbands with your big brain. It was doing something to me.”

You finished pulling and you could almost cry with joy when Miguel’s cock springs next to your head. The sound you make when you see it also has Miguel wound tight.

Completely taken over by your neediness and desperation, you pull one of his thick legs over your shoulder, kissing and sucking on the skin while your fingertips dance around the entirety of his length.

The display of strength shocks Miguel who drips and whines at your actions.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

You cup him while you take his head in your mouth. It felt like pure bliss to have that familiar taste in your mouth. With the way you were humming, Miguel can tell that you were about to put him to sleep.

You took no time letting your tongue stretch to take more of him in. Your cheeks hollow as you go further, one hand kneading at the thigh you were holding and the other switching from fondling him to wrapping around the base of his length.

“God,” Miguel’s voice filled the room, the loudest it had been for the past few months. “I don’t think I’ll last that long.”

You let go of him and lick down the sides, “That’s because you’re too busy fucking other things instead of me.”

“’M sorry,” he whined as you went back down on him. “I-I was still thinking of you and, ngh, wanting you.”

“Mm hm,” your voice sent shocks down his spine as you didn’t let go. He moved his hips steadily, dick sliding in and out of your mouth and pudge occasionally pressing against your face.

The faster he went, the noisier the sounds got. He moved his hands to your head, thighs eerily close to tightening around your face. You couldn’t have it any better.

You dug your nails into his hips, throat contracting in order to take him in. Even with your jaw slacked, it’s been so long since you took him like this that you gagged more often than not. With every sound of your throat struggling, Miguel shouted your name, hands gripping tighter on your hair.

You could tell he was close by the way his thigh was tensing on your shoulder, so when he said the four words, you took him to the hilt, face completely pressed against him.

“Shit!” he felt like passing out as he released into your throat. You swallowed as much as you could, but you couldn’t take it all, saliva and cum esxaping down your chin to his balls.

He grunts when he pulls you off, chest moving sporadically.

You lick your lips and let out a satisfied sigh, “Finally.”

Miguel could only chuckle as he laid back on the bed. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his thighs with a smile. You rub your hands on the skin of stomach, slowly getting to his chest, “I’m like, really wet right now if you want some more painties to use.”

He growled as he pulled you closer.

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the P. “I really want you to do it in front of me. Maybe send me a video for the nights you work overtime.”

He had the nerve to look embarrassed as he wrapped his arms around your back, “I might be able to arrange that.” He kissed your lips to distract you from speaking on it further.

After Miguel returned the favor with his head between your legs, the both of you were enjoying a quiet moment together before having to go pick up the kids.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating on you,” Miguel said as you were drawing circles on his chest.

“Miguel,” you say, lifting your head. “I pulled all the stops. I did things that I knew you loved: the t-shirts, going commando, the flirty pictures. I even brought whipped cream to the bedroom and you told me ‘I can’t eat that, it’ll blow up my stomach,’ when you were literally in the kitchen taking shots of it the night before.”

“Ok. So I see how you might have gotten to that ludicrous conclusion, but did you not notice how much I’ve been staring at you?”

You clicked your teeth, “Yeah, but what does that mean when you don’t act on it?”

Miguel twisted his lip, “Will you feel better if I told you that your work pictures turned me on too?”

You pinched him resulting in a yelp, “I’ll feel better right now if you give me a shower round.”

He pulled you in his arms as he got out of the bed, “Let’s go before your mom calls.”

You giggle and swing your feet on the way.

After your afternoon of praising his body, Miguel emerged as his previous confident self. This meant more days with him walking around shirtless, more quickies in the morning, makeouts that ended in pleasure, him smacking your ass, you smacking his ass back, and sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Right now, Raul was down for a nap and Gabriella was enjoying her tablet time.

You, however, were clawing at Miguel’s back like a cat as he pounded you into the mattress.

“Fuck!” you shouted, eyelids fluttering as Miguel’s cock dragged across your walls. “It feels so good.”

“Quiet, mi vida,” he whispered. “The kids are in their rooms.”

You were quick to cover your mouth, moans muffled. It really didn’t matter because the creaks of the bed were just as loud as you. One change in position and the headboard denting the walls could be added to it.

It was all too much.

First, he woke you up with kisses down your body and a promise to lighten your load around the house. Then, he got the kids up and prepared breakfast with the help of Raul. Later while you were out running errands, he sent you a coupon for a spa that just opened up down the street and warm message.

Now, he has you losing your mind with his hips slapping against yours, whispering praises in your ear.

“Miguel!”

“Hm? Talk to me.”

“I-I can’t-” your voice keeps getting louder unintentionally. He was so calm while he was reaching so deep inside. Your mind was hazy, wanting nothing more than him to keep going.

“You’re doing so good, Ma. You’re so good to me and the kids. You’re such a beautiful wife. Such a pretty Mama. Just wanna make you feel good.”

You felt yourself clench around him at his words, tears falling across your temples. He kissed your tears tenderly, strokes getting deeper.

“M-Miguel,” you say with your heart full. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. So, so deeply,”

That was all it took for you to suck him in and scream into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulder blades. His release was soon after, painting your walls with his lips pressed against your ear.

“Papá! You have to be more careful,” Gabriella fussed with her hands on her hips while Miguel was in the kitchen trying to make the family a snack. “You got hurt at work!”

Miguel paused and reached behind his back, fingers roaming over the healing scratches on his shoulder from his last session with you.

You covered your teeth with your lips as Miguel turned to look at you with his eyebrows raised.

“It’s ok, mija. Papá is tough!”

“But you gotta put something on it,” Gabriella said with a huff.

“Thank you for your concern, nena. I’ll get Mamá to take care of it, ok?” he ruffled her hair as he handed her a plate of bunny-shaped apple slices. “Now go sit with your brother and watch some TV.”

Miguel huffed as he walked up to the side of you with his arms crossed.

“What? You should put your shirt on!”

“That’s not what you said when you-”

“Hush and go get the aloe.”

Miguel snickered as he gave your lips a peck, “Yeah, yeah.”

Life was wonderfully sweet.

With that, my first request is done! As always, like, reblog, and COMMENT. Let me know how you guys feel! 🩵

#car recs #car loves #miguel o’hara x reader

4K notes · View notes

carleycore · 5 months ago

Text

LOVE AGAIN.

mío | baby-fever!miguel o'hara x wifey!reader

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x wifey!reader, starved prequel

❛ type | oneshot, explicit

❛ summary | after watching mayday, miguel develops a bad case of baby fever, longing for a family of his own.

❛ tags | explicit, miguel has baby fever, babysitting, talk of family planning and contraception, f!reader, breeding, pregnancy kink, much fluff, some angst, starved!reader, miguel being frustrated and cute, clean that kitchen, one stereotype of latina women, Spanish is not translated, best friend!peter, self edited.

❛ request fulfilled | could you possibly write an imagine in which Miguel and his wife take care of mayday? + multiple requests for more starved reader/miguel.

❛ sy's notes | written to fulfill some requests. i do have another daddy miguel blurb to fulfill, but my future works should be nice and angsty.

Peter has it out for him.

It’s the only logical reason why he’d do this shit to him.

Miguel stood in his dark room in a pair of scratchy jeans, dragging a belt loop to loop when he heard the door to his room draw open. A resonant schwap, schwap, schwap.

“Mi reina?” Miguel cocked his eyebrow up, extending his claws.

“¿Sí?” you called back from the bathroom, the distant scent of his favorite perfume wafting into the air. Miguel threw a look to the bathroom, reaching for the bedroom door. It burst open before he could open it.

“Hi, Miguel! Where’s your wife?”

Peter dragged his feet into the room, whirling around with a sloppily put-together backpack that leaked diapers onto the floor. An exasperated breath left his lips, dripping in the way he looked at Peter.

Unfortunately, his little wife liked Peter a bit too much for his taste.

“I should have known.” Miguel ran his hand through his hair, strands of mocha brown flyaways wisping along his tawny forehead. “Why are you here?”

His normally disheveled appearance was a little more disheveled. It wasn’t his appearance that bothered him but how it reached his eyes. Shocked, confused, tired. Peter pat his deltoid, awkward laughter choking in his throat. It bubbled on the edge of an overwhelmed sob.

“Well, you see, your wife said she’d watch Mayday because I have a date, and I haven’t had a date in a really, really long time. Like, a really long time—”

“Is Peter here?”

His head snapped to your bathroom where you came out, threading a golden hoop earring. You probably already knew the fight that was heading your way-- but for your part, you couldn’t be bothered to care any less.

“Got it, you need this date.” Miguel cut Peter off, standing behind you with his massive arms crossed. “¿Por qué no me dijiste?”

“¡Mi nena! Muévete Miguel,” you giggled, shoving your way past Miguel to Peter’s child carrier, sneaking your hands underneath her little armpits and whirling her around. She cackled, a glittering warmth to her mischievous eyes. You came to a stop, settling Mayday against your chest, nuzzling your foreheads together in some secret pact that the two of you shared.

Oh no, no, no, no. Not this. It hits him at once.

The sight of his wife— beautiful and cuddly with a very young baby in her arms. The only sight more beautiful was at the altar on his wedding day, your shy smile behind a sheer veil. It had been a long time, too long, since he had someone to call him father. He can still picture her glimmering eyes, the way she looked at him in nothing short of admiration, looking past the things that he’d done to see him and only him. Glimpsing at Mayday, remembering Gabriella’s soft, small face, it took him a moment to snap free.

He's so fucked.

“You would have said no, amado mío.”

You’re a natural at this, scooting by both men to set Mayday on the bed. Your tiny fingers spiraled out from her belly to change her diaper. Peter jittered uncomfortably, looking as though he wanted to jump in himself. You cleaned her, replacing the dirty diaper with a clean one. “We’re going to a market with Tío Miguel--”

“Don’t bring me into this.”

“Are you sure it's okay? I’ll be back at five, it's just a few hours, really--”

“¡Vete! A ratty house robe and a dirty spider suit aren’t sexy. Look at mi Miggy,” now you’re just buttering him up. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other, inspecting the ground. “Wear something nice.”

They’re sexy to her, he might have murmured. Not on a date, you bopped him. Mayday’s bright eyes tracked the space between you and Peter before you broke away to wash your hands. Peter’s clammy hands cupped Mayday’s sweet face, littering at least a dozen sickly daddy kisses over her tiny face. But Miguel what if--

“Adiós, Peter!” You returned to force Peter out of your room. Miguel peered at Mayday whose head snapped to the side, cheek against her fiery hair as the door clicked shut. He braced himself for the shrill that would inevitably come with her realization that her daddy was gone. She whined, grabbing her toes and tipping nearly off the side of the bed. Miguel begrudgingly hovered at her feet, blocking her from rolling off the bed. He could do this, he told himself, he could resist those giant baby eyes staring up at him.

He didn't need a baby, he didn't.

He blames Peter for having such a good baby.

She doesn’t ask for much other than requiring chest-to-chest contact with Miguel. It’s not that he doesn’t want to hold her, he finds himself aggravated by how much he likes to be around her. In a market full of things to look at food trinkets such as necklaces, body scrubs, and empanadas, it’s all her. Miguel props her up with an arm just under her bum, her tiny finger peeking curiously into his fangs. He snapped his teeth playfully at her, a nip, nip, nip, missing playfully every time. It rips ping a toothy grin across her face.

“No biting Miguelito,” you called out, sliding your fingers in a teasing ring around his muscled back to chest. You leaned up on your tippy toes, placing a small little kiss on his lips. You ran off to go get her a pineapple whip after her tiny fist yanked your hair over and over again. You relented, staring at what she was cooing at. Sweets-- obviously, sweets. All the little ones loved sweets.

“She likes it.”

“Ya sé,” you said, “But we don’t need anyone noticing you’ve grown fangs.”

“Tch,” he clicks his teeth in protest. She does too, throwing you a mean look for interrupting her fun. You plucked up a bit of the whip on your spoon, cutting through her displeasure through the power of sugar.

"There's a lot of people here, Miggy, let's go to the park." You point toward the park, pointing away from the mounds of fresh produce and locally sourced goods toward a healthy patch of green grass. Miguel is glad-- he’s sick of being stared at for his huge frame. Despite the ring on his finger, people still seem to try their luck. He couldn't be more disinterested.

You lay a picnic blanket as Miguel holds Mayday's treat. Mayday sprawls across his chest, trying to take just one more bite-- then another-- Miguel looks down, chin level, eyebrow raised. She offers a bit on her tiny index finger to Miguel. A peace offering. “She’s not going to wait.”

“Give her to me.” You kicked off your sandals on the edge of the blanket, dropping your things on another corner. You pluck Mayday from Miguel’s arms and set her down on the blanket in a way that is too easy. As though you wouldn’t have much of a learning curve in becoming a mother. No, no— you never mentioned anything about kids. Did you even want kids? He couldn't bring his heart to ask, to hope again.

“I didn’t know you were so experienced with kids.”

“Mami had six,” you noted, plopping down with the whip by Mayday’s side. She sat with a small slant, reaching out toward the sweet treat again with those chunky, adorable hands. You brought her into your lap, at last relenting. “When you’re the oldest, you have to learn a little something to help out. Can you imagine-- being pregnant six times? Ay no.”

“How many times do you want to be pregnant?” he blurts out. Usually timed and precise, the question causes him to pinch his brow as he sits beside you. “Si quieres,”

Your other hand comes on top of his and shifts it away from his face.

“As many as will make you happy.”

Shock. He chews on that response, his eyes glued to Mayday lapping at the last spoon of sweets you are willing to give her. She falls into a fit of complaints, a conniving look at the sweets, just as you lift her onto your shoulder.

"I never thought about it."

"No more, your papa won't forgive me if I bring you home all sugared up," you tsked your tongue at her. You patted along her back in small, tight circles until her angry huffs faded away. He reaches for the baby bag, slipping free a soft yellow blanket with white spiders strewn across the front. Miguel slides the blanket on top of Mayday’s small body, her groggy eyes sliding closed.

The more he watches you with Mayday, holding her so close, swaying as you held her, the deeper this ache burrowed in his chest. You would look beautiful all swollen with his child. Never mind Mayday or Peter, he can nearly see it, feel it under his fingers, the feeling of your taut belly under his skin, or the kick of tiny feet against his palm.

“We’ll see, Miggy.”

We’ll see-- the answer seems too noncommittal, too distant to be a satisfactory answer. With Mayday sound asleep, you settle her between your plush thighs. She expelled bursts of energy that milked her energy dry.

A little old woman passed by, her cane pierced soft grass as she moved closer with a bag of tomatoes and green beans. Her face, aged by time, pulls into a wide smile. He doesn't like her smile.

“You two are doing a great job. How old is she?”

You blink, looking up into the woman’s cool blue eyes, her dark hair peppered with thick grey and white strands. You tuck Mayday in her soft blanket, sparing the woman a kind smile that Miguel doesn’t quite have the patience for.

“Oh, oh. Thank you-- um, a couple of months,” you recount, perhaps thinking of Peter’s anxious pacing or his delighted shouts about becoming a father.

“Adopting is a great option. Back in the day, my husband was a bodybuilder too. Had a low sperm count don’t you know. Steroids shrink things. Oh, but these days you can do all sorts of things like IV--”

A what-- Miguel’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull at the suggestion. Was this old bitch’s suggestion that he couldn’t do it-- couldn’t get you pregnant? He could easily do that. If he wanted you pregnant, you would be shocking pregnant. He’d be damned if some old woman put it in your mind that he couldn’t.

“We’re babysitting for a friend,” he blurts out. “I have--” had, “a daughter.”

“Oh, do you? I’m sorry. I thought-- well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, have a good day."

She’s saying that, but it comes out slanted. You don’t bother correcting Miguel, not on this. Rather, your hand inched toward his, picking up on the energy that was pluming from his body in waves. Irritation-- annoyance-- the little old lady hobbles off. You’re in your mind well enough to bid her goodbye. But you know better than to say anything more, slumping your cheek on Miguel’s firm chest. It makes the ache of Gabriella's memory a little more bearable.

Low sperm count his ass.

It bothers him long after Mayday is gone. Peter, for his part, looks refreshed. He supposes that’s what happens with a full day of opportunity to empty your balls after weeks of no relief. It bothers him long after you come back from the kitchen, his favorite dark red slip plastered to your perfect body. It would look beautiful, full of his children— he just knows it.

“I may have hijacked the kitchen a little bit,” you teased, the waft of warm chicken and brewed spices filled his nose. He had no appetite. “But I made you some pollo guisado.”

“Hm,” he grunts into a pillow. “Later.”

Beside the bed, he has a bowl of brightly colored condoms. With your sensitivity to birth control, it is the best option available. It wasn’t, however, something he was ever happy about. He should be able to feel your body. Not once had he felt your body pure and unadulterated, warm and perfect for him. He was your husband. He wanted that moment— to fill you up just once, watch his cum dribble out of your cunt. It would be perfect. You set the food away, bowl and spoon clinking together.

“Miguel.”

Forget your warm body. This room is too quiet. It is almost stifling in its silence. Mayday’s sweet huffs, the memory of Gabriella’s laughter. A proper home full of a child's giggles. He’s going crazy-- he has to be-- this isn’t normal. This isn’t Miguel.

“Mi vida, don’t pout,” you reach out, rolling your fingers through his long brown hair. Your fingers tease along his scalp, turning around his ear. Your fingers tickle his lobe, your voice cemented in a concern that he wanted nothing more but to fix if it were anything other than this. “Miggy. Miggy, what is wrong? You look sad.”

“I’m not sad,” he says with a whine on his pillow. How silly he must look with his broad arms wound around the body pillow, squeezing its fluff for life. If he said the words well enough, you might believe them.

“I know you are,” you nudge the pillow loose. He takes you instead, the air thickening with the closeness. You fed off the tension, sliding your leg over the sheet that covers his naked hip. “Tell me why.”

He turns his hands over your thighs, traveling past your hips to ghost along your belly.

“Sí, Miggy?”

“I need…” he trailed off, finding the words nearly impossible to admit. They grow into a ball and cement in his throat, present but stubborn. Rather than break the words free, he swallows a bolus of desire and frustration. “It’s nothing. Let it go.”

The issue was— you loved him enough to let it do so.

Miguel doesn’t want to press the issue. He knows you. All you want is Miguel’s happiness. Sometimes, he worries it is at the price of your own. The distance he places between you and him is intolerable. It bothers him every time he finds you babysitting Mayday.

Today, while Peter goes on a small date, you and Mayday make his favorite empanadas. She’s covered in a dusting of flour from head to toe. Peter would have fun with that.

“Miggy you’re back?” you called as Mayday’s chubby hands shot out, nearly plopping off the counter if not for Miguel’s quick reflexes, setting her back in place.

“Empanadas?” he settles the words in a small kiss to your lips. You glance at him over your shoulder.

“It's... it's Gabi's birthday, isn't it?"

You’re too good for him. Despite the day coming and going, no one else notices his grief today. Not even Peter who came in alongside him, reading the room, and snatching up Mayday off the countertop. He’s babbling something, a thank you, see you later— you kiss Mayday with only the sweetness a mother could know.

“Peter! Mayday made these for you,” you reach out to a box of uncooked empanadas. “Take them home!”

Her first empanadas— the delight is palpable. Peter may have snapped a photo, or ten, of his little flour girl on the way out, empanadas in hand. Then there’s silence. Miguel returns the nearly forgotten bundle of empanada dough and filling to the fridge in the space of unspoken tension. Miguel dips down to your neck, caramelized perfume warm on your neck. His lips trace the warm pulse of your neck.

“Mami,” his voice mesmeric, warm like the filling you used to make him happy when no one else could. Your doting attention, even in the face of real issues like work and babies, was always on him.

"Sí, mi vida?"

His hands coast around your waist, using his strength to gently turn you around. It isn’t important right now. What is important is how he lifts you up onto the floury surface, purring his need into your slight ear. “I want a baby.”

“¿Qué?”

“Una niña,” Miguel leans his fingers along your collarbone.

“Oh, Miggy.” You puff the words. They come out almost wounded. You know him so well, the vulnerability of the words causing him to look down. Your warm palms cradle his cheeks, forcing him to look into your eyes. “You miss being a father, don't you?”

You’re not stupid. Neither is he. He thought he could wait— watch Mayday grow up and not feel this sundering longing. As though he could stomach never feeling a child in his arms again. The ghosts of the past that came with Mayday’s longing haunt him day by day.

You devour his insecurity, winding your legs around his waist and forcing him forward. He stumbles into your embrace, as though he were not a man who could decimate villains and spiders alike. When he was here, in your arms, he barely felt like the weapon of a man that he is.

“Miguel. Speak to me.”

“You’re right,” he can’t lie— can’t hide the longing that comes with the thought of his own child on his chest. Not Mayday, no matter how many times she cuddled up to his chest. At the end of the day, she would never be his. You drew your lip into your mouth, nipping it fat and red, a bob in your head. His heart beats faster, strumming as though it would break free from his chest. Whatever it is you’re thinking he’s not sure. Only that it’s been so long.

“I just want to make you happy, will this make you happy?” you nearly whisper, knowing that there’s no one but him to hear the words. It’s what he wants for you, too. As he stands there, coursing his fingers along your thighs and hiking your dress up your hips, he can’t help but feel the foggy discomfort of forcing you into parenthood before you were ready.

“It will.”

As well as it could. It would never erase Gabriella-- and, in the vulnerability of begging his wife for another child, came the guilt. Not only the guilt of failing to be a proper father or to protect her but moving on without her in his life to a beautiful family she would have loved. The feelings surge in his chest, a well of uncomfortable emotions in his eyes, threatening to fall.

“Miguel,” you’re whispering, your fingers cutting across his sharp cheekbones. You cup his face, drawing your lips together in a commanding kiss. You never liked being ignored or forgotten. He’s not sure how he could now, with your tongue flicking between his lips, begging him to come back with a sugary sweet whine. “Stay with me, Miguel.”

“I am,” he says, gripping either side of the counter by your hips. He feels your eyes on him, soft and careful, pressuring him to meet your gaze. He searches for an inkling of an answer in your gaze. "¿Qué piensas?"

“We can try,” you bite your lip, sliding it free between your teeth. “If you don’t have a low sperm count,” you tease. “Maybe it’ll take.”

“¡Por dios!” He throws a curse to the side as if he believed in such a being, throwing a look back at you. “You don’t actually believe that vieja.”

“Ay Miggy, of course not.” His lips work into a budding smile. You leaned up against his stubbly jaw, setting soft kisses there. Your lipstick stains his neck, dragging down to his prominent adam’s apple. He looks down at you with heady eyes, tracing the way you suckled a mark on his throat. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like them a little more when others noticed them, little marks of possession. Miguel’s fingers come up to the straps of your dress, easing them over and down your slight shoulders. You pull back, words forming puff against his neck.

“Not right here,” you inhale a soft breath. “Someone could come in.”

Miguel eases his finger over the small bud of your breast, rolling his thumb along the silken skin, His hand comes up, encompassing your neck and shoving you back into the cabinets. It isn’t comfortable, not by far. He works the nub to its peak before turning his attention to the other. His mouth covers your breast, fangs grazing your nub as he suckled and tugged gently. Miggy, you pull him back up, stripped of your touch. Your hand slide across Miguel’s chest, tracing the taut muscles of his chest.

“Who would come in?”

“Peter,” you answer.

It’s always Peter. He supposes that you wouldn’t want your friend to see you here, cunt stuffed with Miguel on the very same counter you earlier made him empanadas on. Miguel snatched the dress that fell along your hips laxly, utilizing it to yank you off the counter. You fell forward into Miguel, a heavy wall of muscle, your lips failing to form anything of use. You looked at him, cheeks flush and eyes doting, he’s the only one you see.

“The balcony, then.”

“Dianche, Miguel! Do you want all of Nueva York to see me?”

“Maybe.”

No, but see Miguel breeding you? Undoubtedly yes.

He couldn’t simply choose the bed, that would be too easy. Miguel set a kiss on your forehead, soft and scratchy with his stubble. You return it by dragging him down for another kiss, a wave of warmth coming over him as you force your hips back onto him, rolling your hips against his, teasing him. Miguel doesn’t appreciate the tease and gently pushes on your hips, motioning you to face the counter.

“Bend over.”

"Can't we go to my room?" you complain but comply all the same. Miguel’s palm ghosts your spine, dragging his fingers smoothly over the middle of your back and past the dress that gathered around your hips, He strips you of the little cover the dress gave, eager to have you bare and rid of the thin clothing that served as a veil from prying eyes. Miguel can cover you from the prying eyes of others if necessary. Not that he cared if others saw him fucking-- he’s all the more eager to have you all to himself, here and now.

“No panties,” he notes, his warm hands on your inner thighs. “It’s almost like you knew.”

“I might have,” you return, spreading your legs obediently for him. He palms your vulva, your hips shifting down over his hand. Sticky and wet, he wonders if his need to breed you has rubbed off on you too. His fingers shift, sliding over your soft hole. “Apúrate Miguel, you’re so slow.”

“Can’t you be be good for once.”

You were always bossy. He likes it, most the time, being led around by what his pretty little wife wants. Today he wants to take his time, curving his broad fingers into your glistening cunt. Your wetness drips over his knuckles, fingers teasing the velvety soft walls he has never felt without a condom. A pleasured cry wracks in your chest, turning your head over your shoulder to watch Miguel’s fingers stretching you out. No matter how much your walls gave under his fingers, you would still ache when he penetrated you. It was the favourite part, the rich pull of his dick into your hole, bottoming out as best he could in your stomach. He soothes your complaints by grazing his other hand against your perky clitoral hood, finding the soft nub there for relief. You settle your arms on the floured surface.

“I never-- ah-- am,” you threw back.

Miguel slipped his fingers free, cupping your cunt with his palm for a teasing slap. You want to be good-- it’s just so hard, your cunt pulsing in the abswnce of his touch. He drags his sodden fingers to your lips, glazing them in taste of your lubricant. You suckle your tongue around his thick digits, savoring your own taste, his soft grunt of approval spurring you on. You feel like such a good girl with his fingers crooked in your mouth.

“Are you ready?” Miguel stands fully upright, dragging your hips to his. He’s hard as the counter you were pathetically clinging onto. His hipbones ground into your plush ass, dick pulsing in his immediate ache to feel your cunt. He backs up, fiddling with something at the waist. You don’t need to ask to know that it was his big cock grinding between your cheeks, smearing fluid over your slit.

“No condom?”

“No condom,” he affirms. You bow your head, nodding gently over the countertop. The head of his cock drove into your wetness, pushing past bundles of nerves. It’s impossibly different without the bag over his dick. It’s been so long. His world blinks out, savoring the feeling like he was an inexperienced teenager again.

“Carajo, you’re so good,” he finds himself cursing, leaning over your back.

“Now he says I’m good."

“Shh,” Miguel clips with a mean nip at your nape, lining it with soft kisses, encouraging you on to take him. Warm and wet, Miguel can only describe the slide into your cunt as untethered delight. Released from the bondage of his usual condom, he’s a mess against your soaked cunt, gripping you for a semblance of stability.

I just want to make you happy. For all your needy complaints and little quips, he knows you do. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, with your hands cupped on top of his, squeezing for more closeness. Miguel laces your fingers together in a needy weave, drawing back to stroke his cock right back into your wet body. You lead one of his hands between your legs, urging him on to stroke your clit. Your walls clamp down on him, teasing out bursts of pleasure with how deeply he was buried. Miguel’s lips part into a whine of his name, skin slapping against skin. He sets a kiss in the crook of your neck, breath nearly unbearable.

“Mami,” he gasps, the word coming out between his unstable thrusts. Your eyes shut hard, sparks of pleasure winding and building in your core. “Give me a baby.”

“Sí papi,” you heave, “I”m trying to.”

Miguel knows what you like-- and you like him desperate. His voice so low and rich that you gush around his swollen length, falling apart below him. He catches your body from dropping in an instant, his thighs shaking as he works you through the fibers of gentle pleasure. Hot pressure builds low in his stomach.

“Qué bella eres. I’m going to finish, fill you and knock you up,” he whispers, drawing himself free and admiring the hazy space of pleasure and reality. Miguel turns you back to face him. You think you may complain-- you didn’t cum, or something of the sort. He shifts you to sit on the counter, spreading your vulva for inspection. Miguel spat on your cunt, rolling his fingers over the swollen folds to spread you apart. He slipped into the space between your shaking legs. You felt him thrust into your body hard and sharp. Your hands reached out, dragging Miguel’s shoulders forward, clinging onto his body.

It comes all at once, Miguel’s stuttering thrust forward, a deep groan filling the kitchen, his hand clasped onto your thigh so hard you know he’ll bruise it. You catch his moan in a kiss he doesn’t reciprocate, buried so deep in your body that all he can think to do is to force you to take all of it. He shakes himself free of the web of pleasure that he’s enveloped in, looking at you past the thin rivulets of sweat you wiped away with your loving thumbs.

“I think there are better positions for baby making,” you lean in, kissing him gently. He returns the kiss this time, eyes light of the strain and stress of the last few days. “Like… not this.”

Miguel pulls back, his soft cock slipping free from your warm entrance. Miguel watches as his seed dribbles from your hole, grunting in acknowledgement. He swipes your mixed fluids and rolls it between his fingers.

“I’m open to suggestions.”

He loves his wife. More than anything. What he doesn’t love is how Peter seems to know that you’re trying for a baby.

The thing about having a woman from his same cultura was this: you loved to talk with your best friend. Who, just so happened to be Peter. He doesn’t even have to say anything, just staring at him with a quirk on his lip and a terrible glitter in his eye after he’s resolved another meeting.

“Hey, Miguel.”

“Don’t start.”

He’s crowded with work at his desk-- he has no time for Mayday’s curious little eyes to glitter at him, Peter to be doing that shit he did when he wanted to be helpful. He offered his hands up, shrugging.

“I’m just saying! I’m a man, you’re a man,” he mumbles, inching a little closer and closer. “If you want a baby--”

“Let me guess. She told you.”

“Mayday could use a spider buddy,” he held Mayday up, out of her carrier. Miguel glanced down at her wild hair, exhaling air out of his nose with a little huff. “Sooner than later?”

“I’ve done it before,” Miguel throws back. “I know how to knock up my own wife, Peter. I don’t need help.”

Peter is offering help as if Miguel hadn’t tasted the changes in your body when he ate you out. Never mind that he saw you nauseated this morning, too sick to handle a call that Miguel promptly answered. He knew his seed had stuck-- you wouldn’t feel so miserable otherwise. It doesn’t matter, he’d answer them all if it meant another little one in his arms at the end of it all. Just so long as you and the baby were safe.

“Are you sure? I know--”

“I’m damn sure.” Miguel turned around, his head in his hand. “I’ve had enough of you. Why don’t you do something useful? Bring her something for her morning sickness.”

“Oh,” realization fell over Peter like a hammer, looking down to Mayday who looked right back up to her father. For all that Peter knew about his love life, he was shocked that you hadn’t told him how awful the smell of breakfast meat made you feel. His hand fell away, a film of pride slipping from his practiced features when Peter spoke. “But... She’s already pregnant?”

He leers. Peter scuttles away.

Privacy is important to Miguel. You knew the damn rule. No telling Peter about the inner workings of your bedroom. For that, you were going to fucking get it. You likely knew you were going to get it-- even if you were likely already pregnant.

He can’t wait.

#car loves #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #car recs

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