Warnings: AANGST Arguments, mean Bucky, break up, make up, fluffff
listen, don’t eat me alive for this, I’ve been craving some angst (with a happy ending), the type that makes my chest itch so here we are. If this is too toxic for you and you only live for sunshine and rainbows and perfect communication, then this is not the fic for you. He gets mean because that’s what I wanted. So mean. I wanted to feel physical pain while reading. But then my hamster brain got exhausted to write more groveling. So don’t come at me about “she shouldn’t have taken him back, he should’ve begged and groveled more” He groveled.
-
You sighed, rubbing sleep away from your eyes, trying to get them to focus on the time on the clock.
2:57 AM
You stretched out some of the kinks from your neck after falling asleep on the couch, reaching for your phone and squinting at the bright screen, all your calls and texts left unanswered. He didn’t respond to one. You sat up hearing the lock click open, some of your anxiety melting away hearing the thud of his bag hit the floor.
Hi sweet dolcezza (that is Italian and means sweetness so sweet sweetness :) )
Hope you are doing well, I want to thank you again for your beautiful blog and wonderful works.
I am reading the last things you posted, beautiful as always!
Since I live for the drama, the sadness, the darkness...
I was thinking about how a broken boy with traumas, Bucky 🫢, would react about his girlfriend having mental health problem.
Maybe she has been developing them...
She wasn't always like that, she lost her sparkle and he doesn't know her like this, he sees another person, another woman, another human.
He can't understand and is confused, maybe mad.
On one side I think about him being supportive, on the other I think about him being disrespectful and invalidating, like he had lived major traumas but, he says "he is not complaining so much about it or playing the victim" like her.
-I had this hint because my mental health is not good, I have severe OCD, since I was a kid basically I remember being this way since the age of five four. I am struggling with ed and borderline personality disorder.
And I had partners that, even if they lived traumas, still invalidated mine a lot and called me names, so the were basically toxic.-
And i can't picture where Bucky could fall. Toxic? Supportive?
I love him, but sometimes he acts shady and not always I can read him.
I see him dark most of the time.
But they can always repair the relationship and be together or not?
(I am problematic with toxic guys ahahahaha)
Sorry for this and my life story, noone asked about buy still. I just think you are the best person to write something as deep.
I really hope you are doing good and enjoying your day so far.
A lot of kisses and hugs and support.
🌺
18+
Babes we are one in the same with toxic men. I like to think there's the version of Bucky who has so much love and empathy for others going through mental health struggles and then there’s the Bucky who loves you but doesn’t know how to process things and acts impulsively. Here, we look at the second.
Warnings: Angst, Mental health issues, some toxic behavior, (happy ending, they learn to fix things)
Disclaimer: Some of the stuff in this fic are things I/others have gone though so please refrain from comments about why the reader stayed or what the reader should have done or how the story should have gone. Sometimes I get super sucked into the angsty parts and struggle to undo the damage so don’t read too much into it.
I imagine it starts off bad because Bucky's still learning to deal with his own mental health and there are times where he can be selfish without meaning to. He's so used to having you comfort and take care of him, he doesn't know what to do when you start to change. He’s been through so much, he can’t imagine someone else feeling his level of anguish.
You’re no longer the same person he fell in love with. Your sparkle is gone. A grey dullness encasing you. He doesn’t know when things changed or why but he just wants you back; the distance between you both gets worse with each passing day. You try your best to still be there for him because you know he needs it; you love him with all your heart even when your own feels heavy.
"Baby, are you okay?"
"I’m fine"
Bucky practically scoffs when you ask him how he’s doing because you should know he’s never fine. He’s never okay. He doesn't know why you bother asking him when its the same shit he deals with on a daily basis.
You can't bring yourself to tell him how you're feeling because you know he doesn't have the capacity to help you when he's struggling himself. He shrugs, not knowing what else to say, letting you wallow in your misery, taking his frustrations out during his workouts instead. Things continue to worsen; you fall deeper in your spiral while Bucky continues to shut you not, realizing it’s you who needs him.
“Can we talk?”
You’re desperate at this point, hoping maybe he’ll at least listen but he shakes his head instead. Bucky can’t stop the bitterness that starts to rise in his chest; he missed his ma, his sisters. His missed living in a world where he understood the things around him, where he didn’t have to feel like a lost toddler every time he stepped outside. His feelings have nothing to do with you, he really does love you but all the bitterness spills onto the one person who is always there for him.
“What’s the point y/n”
“I-I just feel...” You shrug, not knowing how to tell Bucky of all people that you felt empty.
“What do you feel. I don’t know what you even complain for”
“I feel like I have no one Bucky” You felt your stomach drop when his eyes bore into you, as if he's challenging your feelings.
“You still have your cousins, other family, friends. You complain so much but you’re so spoiled. I’m going through shit too, but you don’t see me acting like a victim”
You swallow the anger that tries to rise, trying to understand his point of view. It all comes to a boiling point because you're trying your hardest to hold it together while he doesn’t see your spiral break down. You felt your heart splinter; after every time you had held him, loved him, cared for him, he looked at you with emptiness.
“Bucky, I know you’re going through things-
“Things? You think I can just turn this fucking shit off y/n? I’m not fucking normal, and you’ll never fucking get it. Honestly, I don’t know what to tell you, I’ll stay at Steve’s tonight”
He makes his way to the door and you know you can’t be alone tonight, there’s too much going on inside.
“Please don’t” your voice is a plea, your practically begging at this point. You can feel your throat tighten because you feel selfish for struggling when he’s been through so much worse.
“Bucky please stay” you trail behind him, your knees shaking. You try to tug at his wrist but he doesn’t let you. When you finally try to cling onto his arm, his composure breaks.
“GET OFF ME” he pulls out of your grasp, sending you stumbling back. He’s usually mindful of his strength but he doesn’t think and you lose your balance, ending up on the floor. He freezes in utter disbelief with himself, he’d never in a million years even try to hurt you.
“Fuck, baby I’m so so-”
“Don’t”
Your eyes are now stone cold, your voice was low. He tries to help you up but you scramble away from him, adding distance between you both. He takes a step forward again but something isn’t right, he finally sees how broken you look.
“Y/n….”
“GET OUT”
Your voice tore through the walls and his eyes are wide with fear because he's never seen you so broken. He’s never heard you raise your voice like this; you’d always spoken to him softly. He’s scared because he didn’t mean to push you to your breaking point and he doesn’t know how to take it back.
"I-"
“GET THE FUCK OUT”
You pick yourself off the floor, your heart beating through your chest. You practically see red, after everything you had done for him, he called you selfish; you sat through every one of his panic attacks, his depressed days, his nightmares. He couldn't listen to you for one night.
"You fucking piece of shit"
You angrily tried to wipe your face, moving away from him to pack a bag, not wanting to be near him for a minute longer. You go straight to your room while he runs after you, panic rising, he wants to cry but he can’t, not right now.
“Doll I’m sorry-
“I don’t care” You rummage through some of your belongings, feeling yourself go numb. You felt like your mind didn’t even belong to you anymore, your body moving in autopilot. Bucky hates the vacant look on your face, he wants to hold you and tell you he’s sorry. He tries to wrap his arms around you, not knowing what else to do but you shove him away, shaking your head.
“Don’t-don’t touch me, don’t ever fucking touch me again”
He watches helplessly when you rip yourself away, shoving a few things into your duffle bag, not meeting his eyes.
"I-I don't fucking love you, I-I'm d-d-one with you"
“Baby please don’t go”
“Oh, so when you beg, I have to stay?” You scoff, letting out a humorless laugh “Fuck off”
He’s terrified now because while your movements are robotic, your body is shaking and you don’t even seem to notice. Bucky hates seeing you trembling; you’re about to leave the room and walk out but he stops you.
“Bucky, move” You suck in a breath, your nails digging into your hands, but he stays rooted in place.
“No bubba”
“Don’t call me that” Your voice trembles, another surge of anger flowing through you when he tries to reach out for you. “I SAID DON’T TOCUH ME”
He pulls you to his chest and you try to rip yourself free but he doesn’t let you go.
“LET GO”
Bucky shakes his head, hugging you tighter, his tears dampening your hair. The screams and wails ripping from your chest burn his insides, you desperately try to escape but he cradles you closer.
“M’sorry”
“L-let me g-o”
“M’sorry baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” He doesn’t care that your hitting his chest, he doesn’t care that your hands keep striking him. He can feel your body give way, your breaths uneven, months of pain spilling out all at once. He hugs you tighter like he should have done ages ago, realizing you needed him more than ever. Your body continues to fight but your angry screams turn into pained sobs.
“I’m so sorry my babygirl”
He carefully carries you to the bed where he can hold you in his lap. He tries to think of what you do for him, warming your body, rubbing his hands along your back and arms. He feels awful because you always take such good care of him and he was grasping at straws trying to do the same for you. You deserved so much more.
“Shhhh” His lips brush against your forehead, one hand gently rubbing your chest while the other continues to soothe your back so he can regulate your breathing. “Slowly baby, breathe with me, okay?”
You say nothing, but you try to follow his breaths, letting him take care of you. He continues to tell you how much he loves and cares for you, how sorry is he for hurting you. Exhaustion takes over and you allow yourself to fall asleep with him. A part of you is still angry but your too weak to move and you need to be held.
You wake up in the middle of the night feeling his chest tremble against you. His soft sniffles are muffled as he tries to keep his cries down while cuddling you close.
“Bucky?” You lift your head to see his broken expression.
“I’m s-sorry” He chokes out, breaking down. He feels selfish again because he should be the one comforting you but he was angry with himself. “I-I can’t believe I hurt you angel”
You move up so you can wipe some of his tears, his face puffy having cried for hours through the night.
“I just needed you” You gently your fingers through his hair trying to calm him down.
“I-I said shit I never should have said baby, I’m sorry. M’sorry sweet girl”
“Why did you say those things” you whisper, your voice still hoarse.
“I’m so sorry angel, I- there’s not excuse, I’m sorry I was so selfish doll”
You nod, still feeling drained though a part of you feels better. You hadn’t fully forgiven him yet but you knew he meant every word plus there was no one else in the world you loved as much as him. He thinks about the way he mistreated you, realizing he really didn’t deserve your forgiveness at all. Your words replay in his head and his breaths become shallow.
“Do-do you not love me anymore?” His voice is a broken whisper. You knew you didn’t mean it. The thought nearly kills him. He would have gone through hydra again over ever losing your love. Your thumb brushes over his lips silencing him.
“Please don’t say you don’t love me” He nuzzles himself further into your side, hugging you tightly, his voice a whimper. “Please, I’m sorry”
“I was just angry Bucky. I love you” He calms down slightly but hes still on edge with himself. He wants to do better. He wants to take care of you. You had been there through everything for him and you deserved the same love a thousand times over.
“I promise I’ll try harder angel”
He stays true to his word.
It doesn’t resolve overnight.
But he learns. And so do you.
He’s patient with you. He gives you endless love. He has his own hard days, and so do you but your by each others side through it all. He sees your sparkle return brighter than ever,
I want to dedicate this to my grandpa. Wherever he is I just hope he's alright.
sorry for my bad english
cw. mentions of death, child abandonment, insecurity, anxiety, prison, single dad!james, prison!sirius. sorry if its too much, it's my grandpa's death anniversary and this is inspired in the last day I was with him at the hospital.
The evil, it spread like a fever ahead.
James couldn't think. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, all the remains of his energy united to hold his baby in his arms, watching as the police department carry a body covered with a white fabric.
Lily. His Lily.
Sirius was being dragged from his house, his home, with handcuffs around his wrists.
"James, you know I didn't. You know I could never"
The police looked at him for a few seconds, a sad look on his face, the kind of pity you have for a man that was left as a single father, a widower and lost his best friend.
"I know" He finally murmured when the Police drove away from his place, because he knew, he trusted his friends blindly. But blame was easier. Pretend it was Sirius, pretend Lily was revenged and her life wouldn't slip away that easily because who took it from her was paying.
He just wanted someone to pay.
Harry cried in his arms, the sirens finally waking him up. His emerald big eyes causing a tear to fall from James' eyes because how was him supposed to love the remains of all the happiness that once was his.
But it was Harry. His Harry. His baby.
And he was left alone. Sirius was sent to prison. Lily was taken away from him and Remus... oh, Remus.
"Don't look at me like that" He finally said. James observed the small girl holding onto Remus' arms like he knew everything she ever knew was going to be taken away in seconds "Don't look at me like I... like I broke something"
Something. Such a small word for everything he was willing to break right this second. "I'm preventing things from breaking"
Something. Something meaning family, friendship, happiness. Something meaning the creeping fear of not being enough, the haunted thought that you can't do it by yourself, the belief that it's too much. The world's too much and you're simply not enough.
"You can't leave her..." James finally said, watching as Remus teared up and just shook his head, handing the baby over to James knowing he would never refuse her. "I can't do it"
"You're better than me" He said "You always have been better than me"
"I can't do it, Moony" Remus looked at James, he finally saw him, the black bag under his eyes, the dead looking blue and the illusion of them being smaller; "Please... please don't be selfish"
"I'm sorry, James"
Remus fought all his life to feel deserving of a friendship. Of a family. And just now he finally realizes if God has plans for him, what made him happy wasn't on his path.
How much more does one have to give, how much has to be taken from you? How much is enough?
It was night when you died, my firefly.
James watched as Remus walked in a hurry through the bright while Hospital Halls, his anger building inside his body, the sadness, the love. Harry frowned at the sight of a man walking towards them, because his dad had no friends, so who was he?
"James..." Remus said, short of breath; "Where is Sirius?"
Sirius. Sirius. Sirius. Not James, not her, but Sirius. Was he always second best to him? Even in friendship.
"Sirius escaped" But Remus already knew "He's home" But it sounded like a lie. Sirius was at James'. But you couldn't call it home. It didn't feel like one.
Remus looked at Harry. Twelve years later, twelve years since the last time he saw them. Twelve years since he left his daughter on James' arms and decided he did enough as a parent. Since he started to live like a coward.
"How is... how's...?"
"A doctor is there" James said, not wanting to go into details because Harry was left there to protect. Because he failed enough and Harry was the only thing seemed to be left "They don't know"
What could I have said to raise you from the dead? Oh, could I be the sky on the Fourth of July?
"Harry..." James called, and his green eyes looked directly at his father "Why don't you play with fireworks outside for a moment? Don't get far"
The kid nodded and ran, happy, unaware of everything, the only thing in his head being he had to remind calm, and there was something no one wanted to talk about with him. Because his best friend was missing.
"You came..." James said. And Remus was not sure of what to respond, a hug? 'I did'? Because he left, but he was not sure if coming back was enough of an apology.
"I'm really sorry, James" Because you didn't deserve it. Because you needed me and I did too. Because I left you alone when you never did. Because I was a douche and I preferred my insecurities over our friendship.
"I think you can go there..."
He said when a doctor came out of the 04 room. Ignoring the apology because for him it meant nothing. As far as he knows Remus was living his best life while he was left alone, no parents, no family, no friends. Just the reminds of a house that could not longer be called home. Just him, two babies, and his fear of messing up like he always did.
Well, you do enough talk. My little hawk, why do you cry?
"Hi" He said, entering the room. A timid smile and a wave; "I'm Remus"
And it was sad. Because she was his daughter, and he just said his name to her. As if he didn't know her, because she didn't know him.
"Are you a doctor?" She asked, and he wished he was, because he would've never allow this to happen. If he was braver, if he was smarter, if he was just better "I thought we were free from doctors the rest of the week"
Because she wasn't gonna make it for the rest of the week, and James just wanted to give her one last rest.
"I'm James' friend"
She frowned "But my daddy doesn't have friends"
And Remus knew he deserved the pain on his chest. He deserved to be stabbed with words, he deserved to know he wasn't her daddy and he deserved to know he wasn't James friend.
Tell me what did you learn from the Tillamook burn? Or the fourth of July?
We're all gonna die.
James couldn't hear the yelling, even if he tried to, Remus incessant cries and the doctors steps on the floor. He felt a hand on his shoulder, a squeeze only like Sirius would do, tears streaming down his face but James had nothing left.
Why did he had nothing left? He was there all the time, he was the only one there. Always. Why wasn't he suffering like them? He deserved to cry even more.
"Thank you" Sirius said. Because James did everything he could, even if James would always blame himself because it wasn't enough.
Sitting at the bed with a Halo at your head was it all a disguise, like junior High?
The nurse looked at Remus, she was the only one left. The chaos gave her a few hours but before midnight it was finally time to say goodbye. He got a few hours of redemption even if he didn't deserved them.
"I won't say..." The nurse started "So you can have a few more time"
Remus nodded, not sure of what to say, because he could have more time and just now he was thinking; staying from the beginning, until this very end, wouldn't have been enough time neither. Just like everything in his life. Everything is too much and still not enough. The thought of starting a family, the unpredictable future of not knowing how to raise a child and deal with himself alone was too much and somehow the time he got with her was not enough. Even if he dragged himself into everything bad that has ever happen.
When everything was fiction, future and prediction, now where am I? My fading supply.
James entered the room a few seconds later, not thinking Remus deserved a few more minutes alone. He wanted to be there, he deserved it more than anyone, he wanted the pain Remus deserved to feel because somehow his own pain wasn't enough to make him feel grounded. To make him feel closer to her. He needed to take away Remus and Sirius' pain so they could see him with pity in his eyes and feel sad for him, he was there twelve years. Twelve years. They didn't deserve to feel sad. They lost a part of their relationship, James lost half of him.
Did you get enough love, my little dove? Why do you cry?
James would've jump off a cliff if Harry or her wanted him to. He gave them everything money could buy and everything a heart full of love could give. As much as a broken person, coping with losing the people he loved the most could give. His love, his home, his money, everything was for her and Harry.
He would give everything away. James would trade his life if he could, but then who would take care of Harry? It was him against the world and by no meanings was he gonna make it the both of them against it.
"Why do you cry?" He asks looking at Remus. Feeling jealous, feeling angry. Because why was he even here? Why did James thought of calling? "What are you thinking?"
"I just... I'm so sorry I left" He starts, looking at James blue eyes for a second before taking her cold hand "I'm sorry I left. But I would do it again. I know... And it never felt right but it was for the best" He spoke to her "I would have never been enough"
My little Versailles.
"You're full of shit" James finally said. Lowering his voice, his hand ready in a fist he never intended to use. But he needed to show how he was feeling because nothing felt real. And if other looked at it maybe it would be. "You don't get to say... Actually anything. You don't get to say anything"
"Let's calm? Fine. Let's calm the fuck down for a second" He took a deep breath "Better? Let's calm because James fucking Potter is making a scene for no reason. Let's fucking calm because James Potter has no right calling me out in my shit even when he took care of my daughter..." James said my in a way that felt like his. He was talking as Remus, he was referring Remus in that sentence but that was his daughter, and he tried to state his thoughts on that word "because I was just too much of a dick to confront myself. Let's tell James Potter to calm down because I was selfish, irresponsible and the worst person ever to exist"
The hospital asked, 'should the body be cast?' before I say goodbye, my star in the sky.
The moment the doctor entered it finally felt real. His heart beating out of his chest the moment the doctor finally took a step closer.
"Sorry" He said, but James was tired of apologies. Because there were too many things too apologize for, but apologizing would never be enough for the damage already done. "It's up to you"
...what happens with the body.
It was up to him. To James. Not Sirius. Not Remus. And he wanted them to realize the doctor asked him, because he has been here since day one, not when it seemed too late to find redemption.
"Do you find it alright, my dragonfly?"
He gently asked the moment the doctor took the sheets on his hands to cover completely her body. Waiting for an answer that was never going to be heard, James just nodded, looking at the door to find Harry smiling. How was even possible to feel the warm and happiness a smile could bring to one's heart and the devastating, heartbreak a death could cause at the same time?
James once had everything. Then he had nothing. Then he had two sources of happiness. And now he has one.
"Hi, Harry" He starts, excusing himself from the doctor and walking to his son "What're you doing here so fast?"
"I got bored. She always watches the fireworks on the Fourth of July with me" Harry pouts.
"Let's go outside, Harry. How does that sound?" Harry extended his arms, waiting for James to hold him "Shall we look at the moon, my little loon?"
Harry laughed at the sound of the words and nodded; "Is she coming with us?"
"She's already there" James smiled, showing his tooth and Harry gasped in surprise.
"How did she got there so fast?" James only shrugs "Can I go there with her too?"
But James hoped it was a long, long time before the three of you could be reunited again.
Make the most of your life, while it is rife, while it is light.
Pairing: David!Clark Kent x Wife!Reader, Set in Mrs. Kent Diaries
Summary: You're not as quiet as you think. The neighbor complains. Clark considers responding. But first!
Day 15 of January Jumble Scribbles Event | wc: 490 (pls don't arrest me)
Tags: SMUT, 18+, MDNI, Clark you smug handsome bastard. Wall sex just how I like it with Mr. Muscle. As always, unedited bc I don't know
Event Masterlist
The note was waiting under your door:
You're not as quiet as you think.
Thin walls. Open windows. People have children, you know. Consider soundproofing. A gag. Or shutting the fuck up.
-Respectfully, 22B
You showed it to Clark over breakfast. He read it twice, squinted, then sucked in a breath between his teeth. “Oh, yikes, it’s underlined —Wait—open windows?”
You both turned slowly toward the balcony. You’d absolutely forgotten to close it.
The worst part? You weren’t being loud last night. Not really. Not the real loud.
Not like now.
“Oh my God, Clark—”
His hand came over your mouth more out of instinct than discipline, a soft shh pressed into your cheek while your body ignored him entirely.
How could it obey when his cock was buried deep, hips rolling slow and unforgiving, pinning you to the drywall of your bedroom with barely-there strength? How? When you were already shaking from the second orgasm, your legs clutched around his waist, your voice determined to ruin any peace and quiet left on your floor?! Tell me!
“We promised to be respectful,” he murmured into your jaw, mock–solemn, teasing. “And you’re up here makin’ all these noises, hon…”
You keened against his hand, muffled and broken, your nails digging into his shoulders like it was his fault for being so deep, so thick, for hitting just right. Which it absolutely was.
His pace was lazy and indulgent now, like he had all the time in the world to fuck you through the wall just hard enough for your joints to bump, bump, bump in rhythmic defiance.
“Oh my god, Clark, right there,’” he echoed you the nightbefore. “That what you said, right?”
You squealed when he hit just right a-fuckin'-gain. He ravaged your neck, wet, hot kisses along your jaw, nipping at your ear.
“Think she liked the play-by-play,” he added, breath hot at your skin, still full of smug affection. “Maybe I should give her the encore.”
Oh, you hated him. You were going to kill him.
Or maybe come again.
“Clark, baby, hol' on—Clark—!”
“I’ll—I’ll talk to her, hon. Bring muffins. A thank you note, too,” he promised, cock jerking as your body clenched around him again. “Dear 22B, thank you for inspiring me to—”
“Fuck, fuck fuck!”
"Make love to my wife—”
He thrust particularly deep, and you arched, crying out under his hand. It felt like he was trying to fuck you make love to you through the drywall.
“More passionate than last time—”
“Right thererightthere—Ah!”
You came with a sob, jaw slack, nails digging in. Clark buried himself as deep as he could get, so desperate to somehow merge with you, and came hard, hips stuttering while he spilled hot, unrestrained, utterly unashamed inside you.
For a moment, there was only breathing. Sweat. Soft exchanges of ‘I love you’s’ and other tender sweet nothings. The faint sound of the city through the open balcony as scenic backdrop music.
Then—
BANG BANG BANG.
From the other side of the wall.
You both froze, panting.
Clark chuckled quietly into your throat, still holding you there, boneless. “Might need two batches.”
You swallowed, nodding weakly. “Add extra chocolate chips, baby.”
Ok hear me out… Bee learning Bucky’s name and calling him Bucky instead of papa to sound like the grown ups. Bucky hates it. But luckily it doesn’t last long.
Bee tried it one day.
It starts with a little g'morning Bucky. Everyone thinks it's cute. Except Bucky. His eyes narrow as he stares down at her trying to process why his baby is calling him that. It only makes her giggle. Bee has never been afraid of him so his infamously lethal glares don't work on her.
In fact she gets more emboldened throughout the day.
You look so pwetty Bucky.
Bucky you wanna watch Moana with me?
You wants me and Mr. Tato to helps you with business Bucky?
Bucky me and Mr. Tato want dino nuggies for lunch. You wants some Bucky?
You gots three more seconds of work Bucky.
By the afternoon, Bucky is at his wit's end. He's her Papa damn it. This is worse than when you call him James. He blames Steve for this. Bucky can't prove that this was his doing but Bucky knows he's behind it.
Bucky decides the best way to handle this is to treat the situation like he does one of his negotiations. Take control and show how ruthless he can be if his terms aren't met.
Bucky leaves the contracts for the casino behind and strides into Bee's office across the hallway. Knocking on her open door, Bucky waits until she stops coloring and then he says her name.
Bee's face drops, disconcertion drawing her brows in. Bucky deliberately repeats her name asking if she's ready for lunch. Her head tilts back, her hand flying to the front of her teddy bear onesie. "Oh no, no Papa I not—no I Bumblebee."
A grin, relieved yet smug, spreads across his face. She doesn't realize that she reverted back to Papa but he does. That sounds better and it makes him happier than he'll ever admit. "Are you my sweet Bee?"
Bee nods emphatically. "Yes and I weady for dino nuggies."
She takes his hand and they start down the hallway. They're almost at the kitchen when Bee peers up at him. "Bucky can we has apple juice? My tummy needs it."
Bucky bites back a sigh. Normally he appreciates her stubborn nature but not today. Not with this. A beat passes as they cross the doorway and step into the sun-streaked kitchen.
Bucky stoops down and as he picks her up, he says, "of course you can." He casually tacks on her name, ignoring her offended gasp.
Lunch continues like this. Her calling him Bucky, him tossing her full name back at her. By the time her small, colorful plate is nearly clean, Bee is waving her macaroni and cheese covered spoon at the pakhan. "No I Bumblebee."
"And I'm your Papa." He retorts, stealing a berry off her plate.
You find them staring at each other, locked in a battle of wills. It's impossible to figure out who will concede first, you thought Bucky would cave the way he usually does but he has a determined glint in his eyes. It matches Bee's.
You'll never stop being entertained by these two.
Then Bee decides she's had enough of this game, she wants to be his Bumblebee again. She lifts her chubby arms, gazing up at him. Her voice soft and sweet. "Papa I sleepy."
Bucky smiles, reaching over to pick her up, gently patting her back. "Alright, sweet Bee. Why don't you take a nap and when you're done you can help me with some work. I need your help picking which one of Uncle Steve's restaurants I'm going to take over."
"Oh the one with the 'sgana." She yawns, snuggling closer, her eyelids drooping. "It's my favorites."
"Now it's yours." The lasagna and the restaurant.
Bucky's going to have her make Steve a thank you card and he's going to personally deliver it tomorrow.
Your mouth falls open, a chuckle spills out. "Bucky you can't just take—"
Bucky slows down, stopping in front of you. He peers down at you, blatantly stating your name. His deep voice rolls over you as his words land at your feet like a brick. "Are you sure you want to take his side?"
Oh.
Oh, you don't like that. It sounds wrong and unnatural on his tongue. "Lasagna is my favorite too."
Bucky wraps his arm around you, his lips brushing over yours. "I know it is, Malyshka."
<3; aaron johnson x reader (i think i didn't use pronouns but it's mention that the reader has a vagina)
summary: you know damn well, you horny friends.
kiki says: this fits contains unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), cheating kink, the feel of guilt that it's never enough to make him stop, i think this smut it's very light, just trying to keep you fed while i work in the angst. also english isn't my first language so i apologize for the bad writing.
me and your husband.
For the public, having you involved in the movie Kraven with Aaron after Bullet Train was just a normal occurrence, two actors working together more than once, nothing that hasn't happen before and nothing that won't happen again.
For Aaron, it was just his masterplan working. He craved you near him, he needed you there. He couldn't function properly anymore without you, without your body and the way your legs wrap around his neck.
His blue eyes are long gone by now, so full with lust he can not think of anything else. He already made you cum three times before you had to take a shower and attend a date, and now here you are again, seizing the day like you started it, with his tongue inside your wet cunt.
He kisses your thigh softly, his hand behind your knee, his mouth marking every inch of your skin with kisses, smelling your dripping pussy and looking amused at the wet spot on the beige sheets.
"You bought them for me?" He moans, looking at your lingerie next to him, the one he just took off the moment you walked back from dinner, his face buried between your thighs, you didn't. You bought them because they were pretty and expensive, and you could afford them "You look so pretty" He says.
His wife is sleeping in the next room, if you get close enough to the wall you could hear her sleep, which was weird, an expensive five stars hotel with thin walls, you must think they would be soundproof for the price. Or maybe it was your guilt, your senses sharpened in shame, making sure you never forget he's a married man.
But maybe you weren't better than that, but why should you. He wanted you, he needed you and loved you even more than you found him attractive, which was to say much.
"Fuck..." You moan when Aaron's tongue was inside your pussy. His hand grabbing your underwear and placing it on your thigh again, grabbing your skin and the lingerie along, the other hand over your belly, keeping you grounded.
Aaron licks the sides of your pussy, his tongue gently going through your folds, he teases your sensitive parts, hitting the right places, he knows how to use his tongue, and it feels like it has been wasted all this time.
Your moans grew louder when two of his fingers are inside you without any previous notice, moving them in and out, his tongue sucking on your clit and you feel yourself getting lost in pleasure.
"Is this good?" He asks out of breath, a big smile plastered across his face, almost like he thought he didn't need anything else but the sweet scent of your dripping cunt.
Was it good? It was fantastic.
"Hold for me, princess?" He asks softly, your legs curled up while your hands keep them up grabbing behind your knees.
He touches your ass, his hand traveling all over every part of your body, his lips are all over your sweet wet cunt, eating like a starving man, making sure every single drop of your wetness goes into his mouth.
"I need you..." He moans against your folds "Fuck, I need you so much"
Aaron takes all of your release, drinking it all, when he looks up his chin is all wet and a spark of proudness in his eyes.
He doesn't even look this proud when he's on a press conference.
"Keep holding your legs" He orders, taking off his jeans and boxers "Good girl" He praises with a smile when he walks back to bed.
You remind silence most of the times, your words consumed by your moans and whimpers, you want him so badly.
"Please..." You finally find the way to speak, your breath heavy and your heart beating faster than it should when he starts thrusting into you. His right hand holding himself on the mattress to not lay all of his weight on you.
His left hand massaging your breasts, treating it like it was a stress ball.
"Shit, princess" He moans, his eyes closing even if he tries to fight it, he loves watching you. He loves the look in your eyes and how they roll, going all blank when he starts thrusting faster.
"Oh!" You moan, and he smirks like a bastard, enjoying knowing he's the one making you feel like this "Oh, God! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You cry, almost chocking in your own pleasure.
"Sh, sh..." He coos "Baby, you're chocking, princess" He chuckles, enjoying your desperation "I'm not even near your throat"
He caresses your cheek with a soft smile, moving slowly down to your throat, applying just the right pressure to make you gasp for air, shutting your moans.
"Don't be so loud..." He demands, it was meant to be teasing, but his voice sounds dominant, his expression is serious and his eyes darkened with lust and need of control "You know Sam is in the next room"
Sam, he doesn't refer as my wife anymore. She stopped being my wife a few months ago, just a few weeks after you became my everything. The air he breathed, not only his wants but his needs.
You feel a warm sensation running through your insides, a loud groan when he lets it out, his cum painting your cunt and dripping down your skin.
"God, I love my little masterpiece" He chuckles, watching your thighs covered by his cunt. "You're tired?"
He asks softly and you nod, his phone starts ringing at the same time you hear his wife walking around their hotel room, you wonder if he hears her.
"Your phone..." You say with your eyes closed when he ignores it and walks to the bathroom.
"Can wait" He says without hesitation.
"What if it's your wife?" You know is her.
"She can wait" Aaron says, it's almost like he doesn't care and a part of you knows he doesn't. "I'll clean you up first, super star"
Imagine Bucky finding his adorably, heavily pregnant girl perched onto kitchen counter rummaging for snacks like a little gremlin in the middle of the night. He’d woken up, reaching over the bed to cuddle you only to find it empty. He snorted when he swiped his hand over the sheets feeling bits of crumbs left over from your secret stash of snacks. He rubbed his eyes, noting there was a trail of evidence that led out of the bedroom, the faint sound of crunching carrying down the hall.
Bucky swung his legs over the bed, trudging towards the source of the sounds, his eye growing wide at the sight before him in the kitchen.
“Oh my god”
You had crawled onto the counter, knees perched on the marble top, digging through the cupboards with your hands deep in a box of Oreos. You were too busy with your scavenging for snacks to hear the soldier walk in, huffing when you noticed there was only one box of Dunkaroos left.
“What you up to babygirl" Bucky cooed, quietly wrapping his arms around you from behind, holding you securely when you squeaked in surprise. You gave him a sheepish smile, leaning back into his hold while still scanning the contents of your spread; chips, chocolate and various sour candies all covering the kitchen.
"I was hungry" You shrugged innocently while Bucky shook his head, making sure you couldn't squirm around after getting caught in such a ridiculous position. "And so was Bucky jr"
"Bucky jr. told his mama to sneak into the kitchen like a mouse and crawl onto the counters?"
"I didn't wanna wake you and I couldn't reach" You rubbed your swollen belly for emphasis, giving him a pout when he cocked an eyebrow.
"Come down from there you little gremlin, I'll talk to my son about this later" Bucky gave your butt a light pat before scooping you up an carrying you back to bed, kissing the crumbs that clung into your bottom lip. "I'll buy you all the snacks you want first thing in the morning, how does that sound?"
"Including Dunkaroo's? I think Sam ate them all and he just likes the frosting"
"I'll buy Dunkaroo's"
"And chips? I need something salty"
"I'll get you chips babydoll"
"And donuts?" You batted your lashes at him knowing you hardly needed to, he was already a puddle of mush for you and your growing belly.
"Alright bunny" He chuckled, carrying you in his arms, loving the way you tucked your face into his neck with a content sigh. He gently laid you down, making sure you were comfy and fast asleep before shuffling down the bed and lifting you t-shirt up, eyes narrowed at your belly, his voice a low whisper.
"Now. Let's talk about why your dietary choices and why your have your mama climbing the house like spider boy at 3:03am"
Summary: James is whipped. He adores his girlfriend so much, to the point that it starts to bother his friends. His reaction to a confrontation about it with his friends is to completely pull away from you, always finding new excuses to avoid you, leaving you to try and approach him. When you overhear him trying to be cool under peer pressure and say that you're too clingy, you also start pulling away, using the same excuses.
Notes: Angst with a happy ending probably, I love happy endings. Established relationship, For plot purposes, Sirius will start off as an arse
Lmao so might become a multi part fic after all if the fates will it so
_____________________________
James Potter found himself a girlfriend, and it wasn't Lily Evans.
The news spread around faster than the Nimbus 1000 could fly and had everyone do a double take when they saw James strutting around, your books in one arm, held to his broad chest. His other arm holding you close.
"Everyone's staring," you whispered to James. His only reaction seemed to be walking even straighter than before, chest puffed out in pride, ready to show you off. "It's because you're breathtakingly gorgeous of course," he winked at you and you stiffled a laugh, shaking your arm and flipping a uno reverse up at him. He grinned and accepted the card, stuffing it up his own sleeve.
He had put in so much effort to get you to notice him, he almost couldn't believe it when you had eventually admitted that you fancied him back.
"Not sure why they all seem so surprised though." If you didn't know better, you would say that he sounded offended. "I mean, I've been fighting for your affection for quite a while now, right, Darling?"
He looked down to you for affirmation. "Well," you began. "You still flirted a lot with Lily, so I do get their confusion." You tentatively brought up.
James pulled you to a stop, spun you around and pressed him lips to yours in an overly dramatic way. It had you giggling in the kiss. When you pulled away, he pulled you back to his chest, bringing you in for a hug.
You grunted at the sudden impact from your own chest at the pile of books he still held in front of him and laughed. "Hey!" You exclaimed and pressed your arm to your sore chest. "Let me help you with that, darling," he quickly offered with a wide grin. You playfully rolled your eyes at his excitement and grabby hands and swatted them away in amusement. You let him press you closer to his side, and he turned his head to kiss the top of yours.
"I'll show them how in love I am with you," he sighed happily in your hair.
You came to a stop where you two had to part ways, having picked different courses. James returned your books to you, and you left a sweet peck on his cheek.
You both walked to your classes, but not before looking back, meeting each other's eyes, a smile and a wink thrown in each other's direction.
James was always around you and vice versa, spending a great deal of your time with the marauders. You'd already been on good terms with Sirius, by which you meant that he knew your name, your own parents on his parents' payroll. You knew Peter who was your partner for your muggle studies class, and you had been friends with Remus ever since he had been kind enough to share his ink, paper and extra quill for taking notes during your first class of transfiguration. You had severely underestimated how much writing you would have to do in class instead of, you know, transfiguring. So you had sort of just joined the marauders, not that they seemed to mind. Or so you thought.
You were in the library as usual like every Thursday evening and were currently waiting for James, who hadn't shown up yet. In the past two hours and 20 minutes that you'd been waiting for him, you had already finished tomorrow's homework, as well as next week's. You looked at the gigantic clock, displaying the time. 20 minutes past eight.
'A little longer,' you told yourself. "Give him another 40 minutes."
But James wasn't going to be showing up for you anytime soon. Instead, he was in the boys' dormitory with the rest of the marauders, downing alcohol, cheered on by Sirius, trying to prove that he still valued their friendship.
Because when Sirius had complained to him about being a simp and never hanging out with just the guys anymore, he hadn't paid it any mind. He figured that he and Sirius simply had a different mindset now he had a girlfriend while Sirius was still ever the player that he was known for being.
When Remus told him that they seemed to have lost their friend, his attention had finally been caught. And when even Peter told him that he agreed with Sirius and Remus that he was too whipped and acting embarrassingly clingy, he had been all ears.
He had to admit after all, that they were right. There was almost never a moment when James wasn't holding on to you. He basically hovered around you and called out on it, he felt incredibly embarrassed. So there he was, drinking and completely forgetting about his study date with you.
When you figured he wasn't going to be showing up, you made your way to your dorm as well. Hey, at least you were productive. "Where's you bodyguard, L/N," Someone called after you and you shrugged it off.
You enjoyed spending time with James and his friends. Not really having many friends of your own due to the fact that you were taking classes of a year above you with James.
Your birthday was in November, you see. That meant that despite being born in the same year as James, you had waited another year before receiving your owl, not having been 11 yet the year before.
You had bought your books anyway and studied by yourself every evening after muggle school, your father teaching you during the weekends, all out of pure spite at the clearly flawed system.
After proving to be rather proficient during the first semester, you had been given the opportunity to get extra classes on the matter of the second years and moved to take classes with the second years during your second semester.
The cons of that, however, meant not really having any friends. You didn't share classes with your fellow dorm mates. You didn't share a dormitory with your fellow classmates.
So you enjoyed being with James, even if some people told you that you must surely find him too overbearing. This is why the fact that James was suddenly going out of his way to avoid you, hurt, simply put. Your eyes flashed with confusion, and a frown settled upon your face. You wondered if you'd upset him somehow.
"James!" You called out, making your way up to him. You tried not to sigh out loud at the relief that he had actually stopped and turned around to face you. "Hey stranger," you awkwardly laughed with a mini wave. James shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to come in for a kiss, really. But he also knew that Sirius and Remus were waiting for him. He looked back and saw them wave him over.
"Uh, it's Thursday." You managed to say, noticeably quieter than before. You had seen him look around and you wondered. 'Was he embarrassed by you?'
James definitely knew what you were implying but chose to play dumb anyway.
"Yeah?"
"Oh, uh, are you- do you want to join me in the library tonight?" Because you didn't show up last week and haven't mentioned it at all. You didn't say that last part, but James knew what you meant.
"I've got plans, sorry," he breathed out, instantly wanting to bash his head against a wall. 'Coward,' he thought. Though his friends, and mainly Sirius had made fun of him when he was with you, he didn't have to outright lie to you.
He reached his hand out to you, ready to take it back when you had already smiled and nodded. "Oh yeah, sure." You gave him a toothy grin, turned on your heels, and walked away, letting your face fall in disappointment when your back was turned towards James.
James' stretched out arm fell limp to his side and he walked over to his friends, but not before looking back at you as usual. His step faltered when you didn't look back and hastily disappeared behind the corner.
Sirius slapped an arm around James' shoulder. "Let's go Prongs, I've got the best idea for a prank." Remus sighed. That's not what he had meant for to happen.
The following two weeks were spent with you, trying to spend time with your boyfriend and said boyfriend giving out all types of excuses as to why he was really really busy and absolutely had no time for you. Quidditch practice, detention, planned pranks that he definitely couldn't miss out on, the new emergence of "boy's night", other plans, helping Sirius with something, Remus isn't feeling well, you name it.
(Though you did have the slightest feeling that he had been truthful about the last one. It had been the beginning of the full moon after all, and you weren't stupid.)
"Sorry Darling, I've got-"
"-plans, yes, I know." You smiled tightly at him.
"I'm-"
"-sorry. I know that too." And with that, you walked off, shaking your head. 'You love him,' you reminded yourself with a sigh as you walked towards the library. Almost reaching it, you changed your mind and retreated to your room instead. You weren't feeling like studying today.
"Should've gone to the library instead," you murmured to yourself through gritted teeth as you were woken up by the slamming of the door of the common room. You groaned, summoned all your courage and rolled yourself over, falling of the bed and sitting up dazed. Always effective, that method.
You walked down the stairs when you froze at your name.
"Y/N just doesn't know how to leave you alone, right Prongs?" You knew the voice belonged to Sirius.
"Yeah well, I haven't been spending a lot of time with her, laterly," James admitted and the corners of your lips lifted in a soft smile.
"Well, it's still weird. Why doesn't she find her own friends to hang out with anyway?"
"She doesn't have that many," James answered, trying to defend you without directly calling you a loner, but Sirius picked up on it.
"Just because she doesn't have any friends of her own, doesn't mean she needs to interrupt you from spending time with your own, right?"
Remus had been listening and finally looked up from his book. He let his eyes flicker between his two friends. "I'm her friend," he spoke up. Bless him.
You felt slapped in the face. Though thankful that Remus denied it, your eyes started watering at the fact that James didn't and you sat down on the stairs. A deep frown settled between your eyebrows and a hurt expression in your eyes. You should've turned around, but couldn't help but continue to listen in on their conversation.
"Alright, fine, I was just joking, Moony." Sirius held up his hands in surrender. "But you guys have to admit that she's super clingy," he added.
Even Remus couldn't deny that. You had been clinging to James, or trying to at least, ever since he abruptly started avoiding you for whatever reason you didn't know.
James hummed a little in agreement, choosing his words carefully. "Yeah, she's kind of high maintenance. Like, she needs a lot of attention, I guess. I mean, I've tried to subtly let her know that she's clingy, but she's not really getting the hint." Maybe not that carefully after all.
Your mouth was agape.
"Still my girlfriend though Padfoot, and I'm in love with her, so shut it," he gave Sirius a pointed look and with that, the matter was done for them. For you, very much not the case.
You swallowed, not comforted by his last words at all. Your throat felt dry and you hurried back to your room.
At first James was relieved by your lack of approaching him. It meant he didn't have to feel like crap every time he excused himself. But then time passed and James was missing you. 'How do you even miss your girlfriend, who you spend 24/7 with by being in the same boarding school?' He incredulously thought to himself.
But somehow you had managed to escape his sight. Aside from during class, in which you were partnered up with a scrawny Ravenclaw boy who excelled in potions class, called Wylan, as he had heard from Peter, he never saw you anywhere else. Not in the corridors, not in the Great Hall, not in the courtyard, not even in the library at your usual spot.
"Y/N!" He called out to you when he finally did spot you. You didn't seem to hear him and he moved faster. He slipped past a group of slow paced students who were taking up the entire corridor by walking next to each other- 'bloody hell' -and stopped in front of you, blocking your path.
You looked up at him in surprise. A weird feeling in your stomach. Maybe a mixture of adoration and discomfort at the same time. You hadn't decided what you wanted to do with the information from James' conversation because you didn't want to lose James, but also felt hurt. So you decided to just... postpone a confrontation.
"It's uh, it's been a while," he weakly smiled at you. You hummed in agreement.
"Yeah, I've been really busy." You mustered up a smile.
James nodded. 'Everything was fine. You were busy. That's all.' He tried to tell himself. But your eyes didn't crinkle like they did when you actually smiled. Your smile not wide enough to get you to wince at the pulling feeling of the small crust on your lower lip where you always bit your lip.
He cleared his throat. "I thought we could maybe go to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" He offered you a lopsided grin and watched your expression turn apologetic.
"I- I've got plans, sorry," you whispered.
"Oh, right." James had a funny feeling in his stomach. What plans? With who? You didn't have other friends right? Or maybe you made some because he'd been ignoring you? His mind was racing.
"Monday?" He tried again.
He watched, a pit in his stomach forming when you shook your head hesitantly. "Tutoring third years," you said, avoiding his piercing gaze.
"O- Okay, you let me know when you have time alright?" He finally settled on.
"Yeah, sure." The lack of enthusiasm in your answer didn't go unnoticed by James.
It was quiet for a long moment. "So I should just-" you pointed with your thumb behind you, signaling that you were going to go.
"Yeah, of course, places to be," he awkwardly put his thumb up and internally screamed at himself. 'Thumbs up? Really?'
summary || Miguel comes home to find you sleeping peacefully on the couch. He can’t help himself.
content || SMUT, somnophilia, oral (miguel eats that 🐱 while ur sleeping), rough needy sex, creampie, Miguel is pussy whipped!!!
a/n || saw ATSV twice just for this man
Miguel Masterlist | Masterlist
It’s late when Miguel finally walks through the front door - later than usual. Nothing quite went to plan today. A series of fuck ups left him scouring an alien world for an anomaly that should have been a quick and easy grab. Hours later, he stalks into his apartment with leftover adrenaline still boiling just beneath the surface. The sight of you sprawled out on the couch is the only thing that keeps him from slamming the door behind him.
You must have fallen asleep trying to wait up for him. It eases some of that tension that still plagues him. A sigh heaves through him as he drinks in the image you make. It would make him smile if he wasn’t still so tense. You look so peaceful and soft, only wearing a tank top and panties that leave so much bare skin exposed to his hungry gaze. He missed you. All day, throughout all of the bullshit, all he could do was think about how much easier it would be if you were by his side. His partner in all things.
PLSPLSPLSSSSS WRITE SMTH WHERE MIGUEL LIKE FUCKS THE READER FOR SO LONG BECAUSE ITS SO WARM INSIDE AND HE DOESNT WANT TO PULL OUT SO WHEN HES DONE HE JUST LIKE WALKS AROUND WITH READERS LEGS WRAPPED AROUND HIS WAIST WHILE THEYRE PRACTICALLY SOMEHOW ASLEEP IN HIS ARMS AS HE DOES WHATEVER STILL BURIED DEEP INSIDE THEM
IM LITERALLY GOING FERAL OVER THE IDEA IDK WHY JUST PLSSS
OMFG—
the way miguel wouldn’t let you leave. like his arms would be wrapped around you, keeping you connected at the hips, your legs staying spread around his snatched waist. he would have just been thrusting into you muttering praises into your neck.
and when you both lay panting, you’d expect him to slip out of you. but no. It’s just so warm inside you. so much so that miguel doesn’t want to miss the feeling. so he stays buried deep inside your tight little hole, as you’d shakily speak “m-miguel…”
then he’d be picking you up, your hole still sensitive and overstimulated, as you’d be forced to stay attached to miguel. because he was sure as hell not leaving your sweet, pretty little pussy until he saw fit. “shh…that’s it, y/n…just stay hugging my cock like t-that….uh huh…you feel too good to leave, cariño…” he’d be grabbing your chin and kissing you, somehow still balanced in the vertical position—ur legs shaking.
“you’re so pretty f’me…” miguel would mutter once you’d be there to “sleep”. but now you were turned on again, having had him buried inside you for so long you wanted him to move. but when you’d try, miguel would hold your hips, head now resting in your shoulder as he’d mutter “no, no…mi amor…let me just stay inside you…feel so good like this…i like you cockwarming me to sleep…my pretty girl huh?…letting me stay like this…mm”
I'm absolutely DYING over SteveEddieReader. I'm positively BEGGING you for more. I typically don't read fem reader things as I tend to lean more masc but FUCK your series with them is just so damn good 😫 they fit together so well
18+
“Oh my god— ohmygod, Steve…”
Back arching, you cried out, grabbing at the boy’s hair, pulling him closer between your thighs. He let out a muffled moan, a dirty sounding thing as his tongue licked a line up your cunt, lips wrapping around your clit to suck meanly.
Big hands kept your legs open, fingers pushing into the plush of your thighs as he kept his mouth on you, kissing sweet around your folds, nuzzling into the slick of your pussy, nose bumping your clit as he pushed his tongue further into you. It was all too much already, the heat in Steve’s bedroom rivalling the summer evening outside, the pink-orange glow of his bedside lamp showing off the way your body squirmed.
“Shit, honey,” Steve groaned, kissing at your thigh before sliding one finger - two fingers - inside of you. “No idea how good you taste, huh? So fuckin’ sweet—“
“Yeah?” Another voice interrupted, a second set of hands pulling at an ankle, spreading you wider. “If you quit bein’ so greedy, maybe I’ll find out.”
Steve scowled as Eddie shoulder his way beside him, between the bracket of your legs. He grinned up at you when you let out a laugh, still out of breath and shaking from the way Steve’s fingers were curling inside you.
“Wait your turn, man,” Steve snipped back, leaving another kiss on your knee as he pushed his fingers deeper, searching for his favourite spot. You let out a sharp gasp, head tipping back and the boy smirked. “Our girl’s having too much fun.”
Eddie ignored him, leaning in anyway to press kisses inside your thigh, humming when his tongue ghosted over where Steve’s fingers were. You sucked in a breath, eyes closed tightly, waiting for the next sensation.
“Yeah, honey?” Steve cooed, pushing at your knee, ordering you to spread yourself obscenely for the two of them. “You like that?”
You pulled at his hair in answer, your free hand searching blindly for Eddie until he got the hint and let you tangle your fingers in his curls too. He swore when you tugged, hips lifting up off Steve’s comforter in search of lips and tongues.
“More, sweetheart?” Eddie tutted. “She’s so greedy, huh?” He wasn’t even talking to you, ‘cause he was looking at Steve and smiling, a stupid amount of affection in his eyes despite their previous bickering.
“She wants us both?” Steve asked softly, sliding his digits out of you, only to use his thumb to spread your folds open for both of them. You nodded, feeling a little wild with the anticipation of it all. “Yeah? Wanna say please for us?”
You made a strangled noise, a soft, pretty sounding thing that Eddie cooed at. “Please,” you begged, squirming a little on the bed until Steve squeezed your thigh in warning.
“Such a good girl,” Eddie praised and you didn’t have a chance to respond before he ducked his head and dragged his tongue over your clit, a soft, kitten lick that made you cry out.
Steve did the same, his forehead pressed to Eddie’s as he licked over the entrance of your cunt, tongue pushing through your folds to taste you, groaning filthy when his tongue met Eddie’s.
It was dizzying the feeling of both of them between your legs, the feel of two mouth, two tongues. And fuck, if it wasn’t the hottest thing when you felt them pull away from you for just a second, only to hear their lips meeting for a kiss with the taste of you on both their tongues.
❛ summary | peter says he's sex-starved. he isn't. he's just... adjusting to less time with his wife.
❛ tags | breastfeeding miguel, lactation kink, slight pregnancy kink, touch starved, pissy miguel, spanish is not translated, mention of violence, some cursing, f!reader.
❛ sy’s notes | written as per poll request! thank you everyone who voted.
Miguel likes to work.
Or, he thinks he likes to work.
The fate of the multiverse and all that boring ass bullshit. Peter has heard it all, twice, thrice over. What he knows is what he sees. What he sees is an overworked man running through anomaly files, sending out orders, and not spending time where it really mattered.
“Is that who I think it is?” Peter’s annoying ass house slippers flapped over the ground by Miguel’s feet. Peter’s hands rubbed together, sparking little bursts of heat between his palms. “It is! Mireya!”
Mireya, the newest addition to his small family. She was nestled comfortably in the crook of one of Miguel’s muscular arms as if it were the safest place in the entire world, suckling on what was left of a bottle of breastmilk. Miguel turned to place the empty bottle down on his desk. Peter followed, peeping over Miguel’s arm at her. Despite Miguel’s reservations, her bright brown eyes bored Peter with interest. She cooed at him. “Can I hold her? Let me hold her, it’ll be great! Aw look, she has curls.”
“My daughter isn’t your doll.”
“Look how pretty, she’s just like her mami. All sunshine and dimples and--,” Peter reached forward, easing his scrawny hands under her plush little arms and picking her up. Miguel’s hands fell onto his hips, shifting weight from one foot to the other, glancing down at his feet expectantly. “You know, for a new dad, you’re grumpier than usual.”
“Peter.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he bobbed back and forth, spinning in a circle. She giggled the kind of laugh that was all sugar, making Peter grin even harder. “I mean, wasn’t Mireya your idea? Are you-- y’know?”
“Y’know?”
“Sex starved,” Peter whispered like it was a great, terrible secret. As if in this vast space of silence, someone might catch his words and convict him because of them. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes slid against one another, held for a second, then spread open in an annoyed flick. He fluttered his gloved fingers at Peter to hand Mireya over.
“I’m just saying if you need a night alo--”
“I don’t. I’m not sex-starved.”
He waved him off. His eyes fell on his daughter, boring back up at him with those beautiful eyes he had waited so long to see. He shifted his weight from one leg to another, lulling her back into her late-night slumber, cradled against his chest.
Sex starved, he said. What a shocking joke.
His room was no place for a child. It was perpetually dark, dimmed for his sensitive eyes. So, at the end of the day, Miguel had your room to return to. A real home, one with more than a ratty run-down chair and a lifetime of regrets. A home that he couldn't make alone. Miguel pressed past the bedroom door where he found you overcome by sleep. Just like Mireya in his arms.
He turned his gaze down to Mireya once more, her soft and squishy body a vision of peace. Tiny fists balled up over her belly as she slept in her soft velvet onesie. The whole world in his hands: the start of a happy little family. Only right now, it didn’t feel so happy. Those were the cycles, the push and pull of life.
Tonight would prove to be another silent night with his thoughts. His chest swelled with a rush of air, bunching up his shoulders as he moved to the adjoining room to set Mireya into her warm crib. Torn from his warmth, her palms stretched out, ready to wail. Miguel placed his hand along the wooden rail, his stomach flopping into throbbing anxiety in his stomach. She could wake you up.
"Shh," he set his finger in her tiny palm. Mireya’s small hands rested listlessly around her head. The wail never came.
“Mi vida,” your sleepy voice fell over his ears, a gentle caress. He longed to hear it from your lips again. “Is she already asleep?”
“Sí--” he glanced over his shoulder, catching just a sight of one of his favourite little slips. Dusty rose with delicate lace details. He studied the edge of the gown, flowing over your thick thighs as you walked. Shock.
“You look beautiful." You looked down at your soft belly, a mincing smile pulling at your lips. He knew you were nervous, the way your hands obscured your plush belly. Mesmerized, his finger fell away from Mireya's soft grip. Peter's words echoed in his mind, a deep annoyance. It made his skin crawl, this growing annoyance in the acknowledgment that he had no sex in weeks, months. He took a step forward.
“I hope she doesn’t sleep through the night. My breasts are full,” Your fingers skimmed the taut skin. The glint of your wedding band invited him forward as if… you should be his tonight. You were his wife-- and though he didn't expect you to give him relief, he missed you. Miguel dipped his head, stroking the sore muscles of his neck.
Are you, y'know, sex-starved?
“When does she ever..." he couldn't help from saying. He grazed his fingertips over the swollen skin of your breasts, glancing from the skin to your deep, shy eyes. His breath thinned, realizing that you were disengaging, too scared to look him in the eye.
“She does, Miggy,” you breathed. His jaw worked, annoyed. “Lately. You’d know if you came home at night.”
If it was lately, he had no knowledge of it. Every lab screen he pulled up, every status report from Lyla, and every silent night in the lab, obsessing over how his little girl was doing-- he missed it. He should be coming in more often, crossing the threshold of work to family life. His hand cupped the underside of your breast. You winced, embarrassment working on your face. You pushed his hand away, likely feeling exposed by his touch on your tender skin.
“Does it hurt?” He leaned down, mingling his smoky, musky scent with your delicate one. He leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss along your neck, the warm pulse of your skin against his plump lips.
“Miggy, you’ll wake her up.”
Your fingers laced in his before you pulled him out of the room with a click of the door. He settled his hand on the middle of the door, sliding his hand up your waist, the soft fabric crinkling over the movement. He glimpsed a look at your soft panties cupping your round ass. “Miggy, I… I can’t. I’m tired.”
Of course, you were tired-- He underestimated how much work you took on in her care. He willed the wisps of his desire to snuff out. The distant flicker of hope followed promptly after. Maybe, one day, you would want him again. It wasn't today.
“Ya veo,” he suppressed his frustrated growl, wrinkling his forehead. “Another time.”
It wasn't the next day. Or the one after that. Or the one after that.
The anomaly whirled along a cobblestone street, exploding in a cloud of dust and stone. Its many black dipped hands flickered, dulling into little more than a negligible tremor of their limbs. Everyone else noticed the complacency that came with loss of consciousness. Miguel did not.
Miguel sauntered forward, dragged it by its muddy boots out from the crumbly remnants of the wall, and whirled it into another. It wasn't moving. It was done, tired, exhausted. He didn't care, his large hand encompassing its tendril hair and smashing it over the dusty floor. A violent crack, crack, crack of its head scratched his inert need to destroy something, anything, anyone. It fell from his hands with a slump. Miguel spat a bit of blood to the side, his cheek chewed raw under the tension of the moment.
“You need to take Peter up on that offer.”
Miguel stretched his neck one way. Then the other.
“We’ve been over this,” Miguel grumbled, hiking the pummeled body over his shoulder. It gushed blood, streaming into a diluted pink with the downpour of rain. A simple contusion, Miguel said. It was just a contusion. And a concussion. Maybe a gash or two. It would heal if the thing woke up. “I don’t need help.”
“You thrashed it, whatever it was,” Jess said pointedly. Miguel’s finger ran across his watch. The air was stale without an acknowledgment of Miguel’s churning temper, growing into a churning tempest by the passing minute. He stared long and hard through his mask. She drew out the silence as she waited for his response.
“It’s a contusion.”
The portal whirled to life before them in a slurry of vivid color, an unforgiving abyss. Jess slumped her bike with weight on one thigh, hand on her belly. The longer Miguel stared at her, so full and pregnant, the more he was reminded of you. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no use-- he saw visages of you everywhere he looked.
“Doesn’t look like any head contusion I’ve seen,” Gwen slid into the portal. His lip curled, annoyed by the obvious objection to what he was saying. If they would let it go-- he could go on about his life, wait for this obsession with his sex life to abate. Wait for you to come back to him.
“You can’t keep taking out your—“
“I am not sex-starved!”
“Convincing.” Jess sped into the portal.
Miguel soothed the stress out of his forehead, opening and closing his palm, a current of energy coursing through his palms. They picked— and they picked— and they picked at him. At some point, he was bound to explode. He only hoped you wouldn't be in his way when it happened. He whipped the anomaly through the portal and followed after.
On the other side of the portal, there was Peter— again. Cooing with his hands on his daughter— again. His dark mask faded away, his suit wicking water off his frame. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he located you beside Jess and Gwen. You nudged its crumpled body with your shoe. He didn’t often feel ashamed of his actions. Usually, they were necessary. Something was wrong, your face pinched and curled in disgust. He felt the string of your disapproval pulling through his arms, a slight, incriminating tremor flickering through his finger. He willed it away.
“What did you do to this poor thing?” you turned to Jess, a click-click-click off your tongue. He’d hardly call it poor. “It’s overkill.”
“Girl, ask your husband,” Jess folded her arms, reclining on her bike.
“Mi Miggy?” you went to him. You leaned over, pecking his cheek with a terribly insulting kiss, tickling his jawline. He swallowed. Blinked. Then frowned and brushed off your fingers, finding the care misplaced. You could care for an anomaly but didn't care to ask him how he felt. What he needed. Your voice wilted that sunshine quality, dropping almost to a whisper. “¿Qué te pasa, Miggy?”
“Nothing.”
“Miguel--"
“I said nothing!” He knelt down, grasping its ankle and dragging it down the long, drab hall that stored a variety of anomalies. A line of blood soaked the floor, swerving after his rumbling steps. You took a step forward, snatching his wrist between your fingers. He whirled around, a tremble on his lips firmed out into an unforgiving glare. You let up the pressure on his wrist, allowing him to spin his hand free. “Déjame en paz! There is nothing shocking wrong!”
Mireya cried. So did you.
The admittance that Peter was right wasn’t one that Miguel was about to make openly.
Although he showed up that night, as you informally requested, the night proceeded awkwardly. There was no talk over dinner, not as he watched you feed his little girl, swaying by the window of the enormous city below. As you gazed into the sea of twinkling lights, Miguel came up behind you. His palms encompassed your slight shoulders, moist against your exposed shoulders. His naked chest grazed your back.
"Are you going to apologize?"
Why should he have to? If anyone listened to what he was saying-- he wouldn't be in this mess. Still, Miguel steeled his face. He placed a mincing kiss on the top of your head. His voice thinned out, barely a feather on his lips.
"I snapped."
"You did a lot more than that. You scared her."
You let him sit with his regret until you fell asleep. He debated returning to the lab or his room to try again tomorrow. But he knew his wife. You were attentive to everything that he did. You might take it as a sign of his disinterest. After minutes turned to hours, he breached the door and slid into your bed when he was sure you were asleep.
When his eyes coursed over your figure, he realized all he missed. It was too long since he felt the warmth of a real kiss. Not the brief pecks on his lips as he rushed out the door to help Jess or Gwen or any other number of spiders demanding his attention. He missed the warmth in your eyes, the way they turn into crescents with a happy smile or jaunty laugh. He longed for that sensation of your fingers combing through his hair, taking your time and curling his fluffy hair behind his ear, eyes trained on his alone in a sea of spiders. That… sensation of being the only one that you wanted.
Mireya was that for you now. He longed for it every time he came into the room, seeing you sway with his child in your arms, cradled against your breast, feeding her into a restful sleep. What he thought was a mere seed of jealousy turned out to be a terrible beast, tendrils of resentment that you can’t see what he needs. He needs you. And it isn’t his beautiful Mireya’s fault, no. It’s his.
Instead, he lay there with his palm wretched around his cock, soaked in the artificial lubricant, throbbing into his hand. He remembered his words that night. A begrudging -- Mami, give me a baby-- and how well you took him. Your body seemed to know what he wanted, swelling with his child after a few weeks. He buckled into his palm, cranking around the base and swirling up to his leaking tip, bubbling with his need. He circled his finger over the head, swiping the fluid away.
“What are you thinking about?”
Miguel paused, sweat crept down his thick throat over his broad chest. He shuddered under the weight of your silken words. His hand coiled around his cock in one more jerk, somehow accepting that he had been caught.
“Are you thinking about me? Or is there someone else?”
"Someone else?" he breathed. His lips dropped into a frown, agitation simmering to a boil. It cooled when you looked at him-- but really looked at him. The bed shifted under your weight, ruffling pillows aside. You hoisted your legs over his body, pushing his cock against your soft vulva and his stomach, breasts pushing into his face. So close that Miguel inhaled the uniquely sweet smell of your milk obscured by thin lace.
“Why would I have anyone else?” he asked, his chest distantly aching. His gaze tracked from one breast to the other. He stole a glimpse at your face, stricken with shyness. The slight pout of your lips, eyes refusing contact. “Do you even want me?”
Undoubtedly yes.
“You don’t come to see me. You don't fuck me. You don't even--"
"You're always tired."
"But you could wake me.”
“Could I? To deny me again?” It hadn’t meant to come out so passive-aggressive, but with the natural inflections in his voice, he knew you could read him like a book.
“Oh, papi," not that soft voice. He might hope again. "I always want you.“
Hmpf. Debatable.
“Even when you’re jerking off in my bed. Or couch.” You slid your pink tongue along your lower lip, guiding your body against his. The wet draw of your juices over his dick drew his sharp scarlet eyes to the sight, knocking your stiff clit with his dick. For a moment, his words failed. He should have known you would watch him.
“Is that why you're so... angry? Because of me?" He made a small noise, barely a huff. You drew his hands to your full breasts, obscured by a thin layer of fabric. This time, he smothered a groan in his chest. How pathetic, he thought, to be moaning from something as simple as your firm breasts back in his hands. What was he-- twelve? "Have I been neglecting you, Miguel O’Hara?”
“Yes-- you've neglected me,” he murmured, dragging the lace underneath each breast, knocked together by the straps of the fabric. He melded your breasts again between his hands, massaging the sore skin. His thumps flickered over your nipples, stiffening them into peaks. With a small pinch to your breasts, milk dribbled over his fingertips.
"I won't do it again," he wondered if you missed his touch by the full, grateful hum of your lips, your palms disappearing into his dark hair. You coursed along his dick again, eliciting another piteous noise of longing from his throat. "I promise."
“Hm," was the only agreement. "What a mess,” he teased, not bothering to look at you. It had the desired effect, your shoulders shyly bunching up, the cute pout of your lips, warmth in your cheeks, quivering eyes. He loved it when you looked so fucking shy, so vulnerable, and all for him. "You're leaking all over my hand."
“I’m-- sorry,” you flushed, “It… happens.”
“Mhm, you're full,” Miguel flicked his pink tongue along your stiff, fat nipple, drawing it into his mouth with a suckle. Sweet milk soothed his tongue. He hungrily drank it up, shifting his other hand back to angle his cock at the entrance of your core. A hand left his thick locks and jerked to his broad shoulder, stabilizing your hips down to sink onto him. Blood welled to the surface with your claws scratching piteously along his sunkissed skin. With a bit of resistance, he slid perfectly into your body, just like he always did. A satisfied sigh escaped his lips against your breast. It was somehow different-- the tug and stretch of his cock-- as he fucked the mother of his child. Maybe it was all in his head. “Shock, you’re gorgeous on my dick.”
“Miggy--”
He shifted to the other breast, his hands nearly stapled on your hips, encouraging you to do the work. Your warm milk slid into his mouth, down his starved throat. The pleasure of knowing he was draining you of your milk was tempered with the ever-present fact that soon, you’d have his spunk in your belly again. Your hips flushed, drawing around in quick circles, flushed with his pelvis. Small waves of pleasure grew in your belly. Your stiff clit glided against his skin, again, and again with the undulations of his hips. You felt pinned between his mouth and dick, restricted in movement, but all his, devoured by his need.
“Come here, mi hermosura,” Miguel released your breast from those lush lips, sliding his tongue along his lips to catch the remnants of your sweet milk. He slid down along the pillows, flushing your chest to his, and propped his legs slightly for a better angle. His muscular arms wound around your back, cock pumping into you with renewed vigor. He knocked against your cervix in this position, holding you fast and tight in his arms. You nestled against his sweaty chest, accepting his thrusts so well.
“Miggy-- I’m not-- on anything.”
“You're breastfeeding, close enough,” he mused in your ear as though it were a joke.
You might have argued with him if you weren’t so blinded by that fantastic juddering of his hips. As it were, pleasure rocked all thoughts of birth control out of your mind. Miggy, an ever-present lover, groaned as he held out through your orgasm milking and soaking his swollen dick in your cum. Not a moment later, Miguel forced a long stroke of his dick inside your cunt, reaching his climax buried deep in your tremoring walls. You squeezed him tight, milking him dry of his orgasm until it all faded into fuzzy pleasure. You sighed as his arms loosened, warm and full of Miguel after so long. His soft dick slipped free, cum oozing onto his thighs, but he couldn’t be bothered to deal with the mess.
He set a kiss on the top of your head, then your forehead, and eventually snatched your lips in a warm kiss. You could taste the sweetness of your milk on his tongue and flushed. Your head dropped down on his chest, listening for the gentle whining of your daughter. It was silent but for the intermingling of your heaving breaths.
After all the issues: the disappointment, the fighting with Peter and Jess, Miguel couldn’t help but chuckle. All it took was jerking off in your bed. He should have known-- you never did like to be left out on his fun. You were always a jealous lover, even at the threat of his own hand.
“Hm? Why are you laughing?”
“Peter said I was sex-starved."
“Well," you glistened a smile, kissing along his jaw. He huffed. "He wasn't wrong."
who can’t stop the perverted scenario’s from flooding his mind. seeing you take care such good care of his child while being oblivious to the feeling of being stuffed with his children.
you can’t even remember how you got into this predicament.
“shh, he’s still sleeping.” miguel’s index finger brushed against his lips as he slammed into you. he was fucking you so good, it was too hard to muffle your sweet moans. “t-trying mig!” your hands wrapped around his wrist while bitting onto your lower lip in hopes of silencing your moans. looking up at him through wet lashes as his dick bullied your pretty pussy, stuffing you full of his length which created a small bulge within your tummy.“m-mig.” you whined, you were so close to breaking. his length dragged alongside your walls perfectly, kissing that sensitive spot within your core as you instantly clamped down onto him.
“mmphhm!” your moans muffled against the palm of his hand. “i know baby, i know.” miguel cooed, fucking you through your orgasm as you sobbed in pleasure underneath him. your insides twisting together as he continued to rut into your abused cunt, aching for the next climax.
“you’re doing so good f’me.” he praised watching your eyes roll to the back of your head as the sluttiest whine escaped your throat. thrusts speeding up, hitting every sweet spot as his dick twitched inside of you, “shitt, g’cum!” he grunted, feeling his orgasm approach as your eyes screwed together— feeling pleasure once again build within your core. panting against the palm of his hand as his hips jerked before shooting his warm load deep inside you.
Warnings: smut, headlock🤤, unprotected sex, creampie, a bit of fluff at the end
A/n: as promised, as soon as I came out of the cinema I started working on this! It’s not as nasty as I wanted it to be, but I’ll work on that🩷
Your bedroom smelled strongly of sex and sweat, loud moans along with praise mixed with degrading were bouncing off the tall walls, surely gaining the two of you a few noise complaints the next day. You were splayed in the middle of your huge queen-sized bed, head pressed into soft pillows and ass high up in the air as your boyfriend was dogging the shit out of you, making sure that your pussy was raw and thoroughly fucked.
You’ve been at it for hours - your sheets were wet with sweat and other bodily fluids, your ass felt hot from all the spanks Miguel generously delivered. Your throat felt sore from all the moaning and previous face-fucking, musky taste of Miguel’s cock still lingered on your tongue. You felt like a rag doll in your lover’s strong arms, too tired to move by yourself, but too greedy for pleasure to actually stop this sweet torture.
Miguel yanked your hips up higher, getting a firm grip on your waist; he shifted a bit, placing one foot on the mattress for better range of movements. A string of loud mewls along with shameless moans poured out of your kiss-swollen lips as brunette absolutely ravaged you - he pounded your poor dripping pussy with so much vigor that your body shifted forward with each thrust, heavy balls slapping against your clammy skin with loud smacking sounds. Miguel’s large hands moved to smack your pretty ass so it jiggled in his palms, relishing to grab and mold your pliable flesh afterwards.
- Just look at this greedy pussy, taking every inch of me like a cock-hungry slut. Bet you were thinking about it whole day long, huh? - Miguel rasped above you, his filthy words caused heat rising up to your cheeks as you buried your face even deeper into soft pillows, but they couldn’t hide your reddened ears form his sharp eyes.
Miguel leaned down, one massive arm sliding underneath your neck, so that your chin was tucked right in the hollow of his elbow; a few moments later your face was squished in between male’s bulking bicep and a thick forearm, trapped in a firm headlock. He put most of his body weight onto your small body, pounding your dripping cunt into the bouncy mattress, stretching you out on his mighty girth, making your eyes roll back in intense pleasure. You felt Miguel’s free hand slipping underneath your tummy, finding your throbbing needy clit in no time and massaging it brutally with rough fingertips, matching the roughness of his hips slamming into you from behind.
- Oh baby, you’re drooling, - Miguel tutted in feigned pity, his hot lips brushing the shell of your ear, making hairs on the back of your neck rise.
His words brought you out of heavy haze of pleasure, bringing some consciousness to your foggy mind. And, indeed, your chin felt cooler because of your drool covering it, some even dribbled down onto Miguel’s arm, getting in between your chin and his inner elbow. Your hands came to his arm around your neck, fingers digging into firm muscles, leaving crescent-shaped marks on scarred skin.
- Mig..uel, I’m-
- Shhh, my love. Don’t you worry, I’ll take good care of you, - Miguel shushed you softly, his hips slapping against your ass with even more vigor, making you momentarily forget whatever it was that you wanted to say.
He hissed as he felt your velvety walls clenching around him, the suckle of your pussy sent his hips bucking and forcing his cock impossibly deeper into your cunt. A familiar coil makes itself knows in the pit of your stomach - a telltale sign of your next orgasm approaching rapidly.
- Oh fuck bunny, fuck fuck fuck. Gonna fill that pussy with my cum, full and nice, yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? - Miguel rambled next to your ear as his pace became faster and sloppier.
- Pl..ease. Fuck, need.. it. ‘m so close, - you managed to stutter through
Your body prickled with desire and heat, Miguel’s fingers worked diligently on your clit along with his massive cock spreading you open, thick cockhead mushing against all of your sweet spots - he very soon had you cumming all around him, wringing a mind-blowing orgasm out of your exhausted body, your release leaving a noticeable white ring on the base of his dick.
A string or curses and quiet whimpers reached your ears as Miguel’s snapped his hips into yours quickly before stilling completely. Strong shudder ran through male’s massive body and, with a final moan, he shoot his thick cum inside of your fluttering heat, flooding your insides with his warmth.
Miguel went slack against your back, his body mounding against yours as he laid atop of you, making you squeak quietly under his weight. He chuckled airily as he rolled off you to the side, sliding his softening cock out of your bruised pussy. You whined at the feeling of emptiness, warm sperm dripped out in a small dribble, staining your slit and sheets underneath you. Miguel scooped you up in his big arms and maneuvered you to lay on top of his heaving chest, thick fingers tangled in your messy hair, massaging your scalp lovingly.
You took a deep breath, cuddling deeper into your lover’s neck, wrapping one arm around his broad shoulders. Your eyelids felt too heavy and Miguel felt too comfy to lay on, so you were fighting off sleep as much as you could.
- Go to sleep baby, I’ll clean everything up, - you heard a soft murmur, warm lips kissing your forehead in a comforting manner. You hummed in acknowledgment, getting more comfortable in Miguel’s arms.
- Love you, - you whispered tiredly, sleep heavy on your lids.
- Love you too angel
Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Feedback is very important, give writers some love🩷🩷
imagine one night reader can’t sleep and Miguel sees it so he fucks her rough so she can feel better.
mdni, nsfw below, requests open
Miguel O'hara who stirs awake from your movement, how you let out whines and flip from your left to your right side, trying to sleep on your back but yet, you just can't sleep.
Miguel O'hara who presses you into the bed, holding you down by placing a hand on your back. If you can't exhaust yourself, he'll do it for you. So why not dick you down until you're practically passing out on his cock.
Miguel O'hara who starts off rough too, cock dragging against your tight walls as you mewl and moan, face buried in your pillow as your hands hold at the edges, squeezing down. Your noises muffle into the pillow as he pounds you from behind, legs sometimes kicking up.
Miguel O'hara who'll fuck many orgasms out of you, stuffing you full, watching how your eyes flutter. He'll watch at how overstimulated you get, how your body starts to get tired.
And when he's finally exhausted you enough, he'll lay you on your side, back pressing against his chest. Miguel who'll keep his cock stuffed inside of you, holding your breasts gently as you drift off to sleep with him inside.
Imagine you decide to go back to school but like online classes and Miguel would have you cock warming him. And immediately after you hit that ‘end zoom’ or ‘leave classroom video’ he’s absolutely plowing into you like a animal in heat-
I cant do this anymore— thank you so much, my love <3 also this became a little longer than planned—whoops
your lips are pressed tightly together, as you pretend to nod along to what the teacher is saying. something about the economy? you aren’t sure because all you can focus on is miguel’s cock buried deep inside you.
your breathing is stuttering as you try not to move your hips. god, you just wanted to move. either up and down or completely off. because cock warming him like this was too much for your poor brain to train into the lesson on your computer.
you were on miguel’s thighs, the angle of the computer cutting him off, so all appeared innocent. miguel’s mouth was twitching in a snarl to move, because god did he want to just fuck you silly.
your warm little hole kept clenching around him, making his grip on your hips tighten to the point of claw marks. “come on…cariño…let me move…I need to fucking move.” his low desperate tone was right by your ear.
“I-I have to focus.” you blink a few times too many, praying the teacher won’t ask you a question.
“I cant…dios…i cant.” miguel’s hips had begun to try and move up into you. but with your weight atop of him you managed to not reciprocate. “I need to fuck you, y/n.”
then finally you can see the lesson wrapping up, as other collage students dropped off the line. and as your hand shifted to tap the ‘end call’ button, miguel’s grip tightened.
“stay fucking still now...” miguel growled out as he thrusted up into your dripping cunt, making a small mewl escape you.
“yeah…that’s it…gonna fuck this pretty little hole that you’ve kept me from feeling…sliding up and down my cock—carajo.” his thrusts are animalistic and feverish, as groans leave him, his hands spreading your thighs further apart as his claws dig into your flesh. his hips movements are making you slightly bounce up and down on his dick.
“you have no idea what that just did to me…” his words are harsh, as he kept you at his mercy. “hours…of being in your pussy and I couldn’t even move…that’s not gonna happen again.”
obscene sounds are filling the room, as your hips meet his—still on his lap. his teeth are by your ear as he nips at the skin. “no…next time if I want to be inside you—moving—I will be…and I don’t care if you need to focus, cariño…you just gotta be good and let me move you along my cock…”
“it’s study…I…I have to pay attention.” you manage as your legs shake.
“that’s okay…” he coos. “you can be my dumb little slut…actually I’d like that…” he’s breathing harder as his cock twitches. “you can stay my dumb little pet, whose pretty head is filled with me and only me as you let me feel this hole for as long…as I please.”
