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daisies-daydreams · 4 months

Note

I’m in desperate need of a desperate Miguel who worships the very ground his wife walks on 😔🙏 BRO IS HUGE AND I JUST KNOW. I JUST KNOW HE WOULD LOVE TO BE LIKE A CAT AND MAKE BISCUITS ON HIS CHUBBY WIFEY. And the ASSets are just sprinkles on the cake. So let’s just say chubby wifey puts on a whole cute outfit and her hair is cute and everything. They go on a date and Yk she gets stares and compliments..BUT MIGUELS POSSESSIVE ASS IS LIKE ‘keep looking..keep saying stuff..BUT THIS ASS IS MINE’ Yk. And then it ends with Miguel bending us over at a 90 degree angle and possible 180. How does he do it idk. Science.

Adore You (Miguel O’Hara x Plus-Size!Wife!Reader)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Plus-Size!Wife!Reader Category: Fluff/Smut (18+) Warnings: Jealous!Miguel, Swearing, Manhandling, Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Mating Press, Full Nelson, Unprotected P in V Sex (You know the drill), Rough Sex, Slight Exhibitionism, Creampies, I'm Not Fluent in Spanish Word Count: 5.5k+

A/N: Hi hi! Thank you very much for your request! I love husband!Miguel (that man has my whole heart I swear). I hope you enjoy! 💕

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

The valet’s cheeks flushed the second you stepped out of the car.

“G-Good evening ma’am,” the thin man stammered. You flashed him a friendly smile as you smoothed your hands over your dress, your breasts nearly spilling out from the tight-fitting clothing as you adjusted yourself. Your eyes sparkled as you looked up at the luxurious restaurant before you - a large marble building laced with ribbons of ivy. You smiled when your husband, Miguel, came beside you and gingerly laid a hand on your hip.

“Happy anniversary, cariño,” your beloved whispered with a bright grin [honey]. You beamed and turned around, your hands gliding over his muscular forearms. Miguel’s eyes softened as you raised yourself on your tiptoes and puckered your lips. He smiled and dipped his head down to capture your lips in a warm, tender embrace. His brows furrowed when the valet cleared his throat.

“Right,” your husband muttered as he handed the man his keys. The valet thanked him before climbing into the large, black sports car. You squeaked as Miguel’s hand glided from your hip to the globe of your ass.

“Mi amor,” you whispered loudly as your cheeks flushed [My love]. Your husband chuckled.

“What? I’m just escorting my lovely wife inside,” he mused with a wink.

“Mhm,” you hummed with raised brows. Miguel pecked your forehead as he kept his hand over your bum while leading you inside. You looked around in awe at the several marble pillars that lined the walls of the restaurant.

"O'Hara, party of two," your husband said to the hostess at the front desk. The blonde woman nodded before grabbing two thick menus.

"Please follow me!" she chirped. You smiled at your beloved as the two of you were escorted to the back patio. The sound of piano music combined with the casual chatter of the guests filled your ears as you stepped back outside. You gasped when you saw a table set by the balcony: a bottle of wine neatly placed on the side, a card resting on a plate, and rose petals sprinkled across the white table cloth.

"One of our servers will be out momentarily. Enjoy your evening!" the woman said as she clasped her hands together.

"Thank you," you grinned before she turned and walked back inside. Your heart warmed as Miguel took your smaller hand into his.

“Do you like it?” he asked before kissing each and every one of your knuckles. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you nodded.

“I love it. Muchas gracias, mi vida,” you sniffed [Thank you so much, my life]. Your husband smiled and cupped your cheek.

"De nada, mi amor," he whispered [You’re welcome]. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as Miguel stepped over and pulled out your chair.

"Mi señora," he hummed [My lady].

"Gracias, mi caballero," you giggled as you took your seat [Thank you, my gentleman]. Miguel kissed the top of your head just as your waiter strolled up to the table.

“Welcome to Le Jardin de Marbre! My name is Mark and I’ll be taking care of you this...fine evening,” the dark-haired man lilted as his eyes grazed over your form. You felt Miguel shift behind you before Mark's smile fell. He cleared his throat while your husband took his seat. “Would the two of you care for any other drinks besides your wine?” the waiter asked.

“Yes, I'll have a water, please,” you replied. Miguel simply nodded with a short grunt. Mark grinned before popping open the bottle of red wine. You gasped as the cork flew over your head and over the balcony.

“Ah, I’ll get it later,” the waiter laughed nervously. You giggled while Miguel’s furrowed his thick brows. Mark leaned close to you while he tilted the neck of the bottle over your sparkling glass.

“Might I say you look wonderful this evening, ma’am,” the bold man whispered. You flushed a little as you gazed back down at the menu.

“Th-Thank you,” you muttered. You blinked as you shifted your gaze between your glass and the bottle. “Um, that’s good,” you piped up. Mark looked down to see that he’s nearly filled your entire glass.

“Sorry about that,” he said with an apologetic smile. Miguel raised a brow as he poured his drink next. Mark's hands shook as your husband's frown slowly shifted into a deep scowl. The server placed the bottle down before stepping back.

“I’ll go get your waters,” Mark said before quickly turning on his heel. You took a small sip of your wine, the slightly sweet flavor washing over your taste buds as you turned your attention to the card in front of you.

“Would you like me to open it now?” you asked.

“I'll leave it up to you,” he smiled before taking a sip of his drink. Your heart skipped a beat as you carefully ripped the envelope open. You pulled the card out with a giddy smile as you straightened in your seat. You smiled as you opened it, a small postcard slipping out. You eyed it briefly before your attention was stolen by the words in front of you:

“Mi Cielo,

Words can’t describe how much love I have for you. Every day I’m thankful to have you as my wife-my beloved. You make my heart glow when I wake up next to you every morning, when I get home from work, when you hold me after I’ve had a long day. You are so precious, (Y/N), and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with someone as incredible as you.

Te amo mucho, mi vida. Feliz aniversario.

Sincerely,

Tu gran oso”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as your bottom lip trembled.

“Lo siento, mi amor. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Miguel cooed as he brushed his thumb over your cheek [I’m sorry, my life]. You shook your head.

“No, it’s okay. I’m just so, so happy to have someone as amazing as you in my life,” you beamed. Miguel’s eyes softened as he slipped his hand into yours again.

“Gracias, bella,” he murmured [Thank you, beautiful]. “Did you see the little gift I left in there?” Miguel asked with a sparkle in his eye. You glanced down at your lap to see the postcard staring up at you. Your heart raced as you picked it up, admiring the picturesque image of Niagara Falls. You curiously flipped it over.

“Make sure to bring your raincoat ♥️”

You gasped and looked up.

“You mean…” your voice trailed off. Miguel smiled brightly and nodded.

“I was even able to book the same suite. It’s only for a long weekend, but I know those few days will be well spent with you, mi vida,” he cooed as he kissed your hand. You couldn’t stop yourself from getting up and wrapping your arms around your husband, your heart brimming with joy.

You’ll never forget that day he took you to Niagara Falls. It was a complete surprise when Miguel knelt down on the deck of your hotel room, the rumble of the falls filling your ears as he asked you to spend the rest of your life with him.

“Te amo mucho, gran oso,” you sniffed [I love you very much, big bear]. Miguel cupped your cheek before pressing another tender kiss to your lips.

“Te amo mucho, conejita,” Miguel beamed [I love you very much, little bunny]. You bit your lip as you pulled back and took your seat. Your heart pounded against your sternum as you pulled out the small box from your purse.

“My gift isn’t as big,” you said a little sheepishly. Miguel parted his lips as you handed the box to him.

“Oh, bebé. You know I’ll love any gift you give me,” he cooed [baby]. He leaned in closer. “Size doesn’t matter, right?” Miguel smirked. You rolled your eyes and laughed.

“Right…it’s how you use it,” you reply with a wry grin. Miguel shook his head as he chuckled.

“I love your quick wit, conejita,” your beloved hummed. You leaned forward on your elbows as you watched Miguel start to unwrap his gift. You bit your lip as he pulled the lid off with a quiet "pop". His eyes lit up when he saw a silver watch glisten beneath the dim candlelight. You squeezed your hands in your lap as he slipped it out of the box.

“Oh, hermosa,” Miguel breathed as he slid the watch against his wrist [beautiful]. You bit your lip a little harder as he admired it. “The very first gift you gave me,” he murmured softly. You nodded as you rubbed the back of your neck.

“I know you said that you’ve been meaning to get it fixed for a while, so I stopped by the jewelers last month,” you said. Miguel clasped the watch over his wrist, smiling as he observed the hands of the little clock tick by.

“Thank you so much, (Y/N),” Miguel smiled as he leaned forward. Your heart skipped a beat as you met him in the middle, your lips slowly caressing each other in a loving embrace. You sighed as he cupped your cheek, your heart fluttering as his warm lips sweetly brushed over yours. You pulled your head back when someone nearby cleared their throat.

“Your water, ma'am,” Mark said as he placed your glass onto the table. "Sir," he said to Miguel with a bit more flat tone. You slumped back in your chair before realizing you haven't even looked at the menu.

"We still need a few minutes," you said to your waiter.

"Of course," Mark said with a bright grin before excusing himself. You and Miguel relaxed as you opened your menus. You smiled at the way the candlelight flickered in Miguel’s soft, brown eyes.

Tonight couldn’t have been more perfect.

+++

You patted your napkin over your mouth before sinking into your seat with a satisfied smile.

“That was the best food I’ve had in a while,” you sighed happily. Your husband quirked one of his thick, dark brows.

“Even better than my cooking?” Miguel asked. Your eyes widened.

“Oh, um, well-“ your husband started to chuckle.

“Don’t worry, hermosa. I know my cooking’s terrible,” he snickered. You giggled.

“I mean, I was going to say something…” you lilted. Miguel placed a hand over his chest as if cradling a fresh wound.

“Ouch,” he replied.

“You said it, not me,” you shrugged before taking another sip of your wine. Miguel chuckled, his eyes half lidded as they raked over your form.

“I think this wine’s making us both a bit too bold,” Miguel smirked. Your cheeks warmed as he gently reached beneath the table and laid his hand on your knee. You bit your lip as a wave of heat swept through your core.

“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” you replied with a low whisper. Just as Miguel tilted his head and leaned forward, Mark’s shadow loomed over the two of you.

“Your bill, sir,” he said as he set the paper down on the table. Your love made no effort to hide his annoyance as he took the receipt.

“Thanks,” your husband said. He pulled out his credit card after the server briskly walked away. Miguel sighed and rose from his seat. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered with quick peck to your cheek. You grinned and watched as he walked back into the restaurant.

+++

Miguel hummed as he strolled towards the restroom. It’s been so long since his heart has felt this full. Your smile, your laugh, the smooth, gentle touch of your lips against his all made him feel more complete. Miguel wore a bright grin as he pushed the restroom door wide open.

“Did you see the juicy ass on that chick sitting next to the balcony?” Mark loudly whispered. Miguel froze and lingered in the doorway when he saw two waiters at the urinals.

“Dude, I know. I’d love a piece of that cake…if you know what I mean,” the other server chortled. Miguel narrowed his eyes. Okay, there’s a lot of people out on the patio. Surely they weren’t-

“And that tight, black dress-fuck. Can’t imagine how those pretty tits would look while she’s-“

Both of them whipped their heads around when Miguel let the door slam behind him, a deadly glint flickering in his eyes as his jaw tightened.

“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” he said while straightening his shoulders. Mark frowned as his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

“O-Oh,” he simply replied as he awkwardly shuffled in place. Miguel tilted his head, his muscles bulging beneath his crisp suit.

“H-Hey man. We didn’t mean any harm,” the other waiter said as he hastily zipped up his pants. Miguel scoffed and narrowed his eyes.

“Well, I suggest you speak about my wife with much more respect-or any woman for that matter,” he spat. Their faces grew cherry red as Miguel tugged on his jacket. “Now, if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I’m going to go home and make love to my beautiful wife,” Miguel said as he tugged on his jacket. He scowled as he turned on his heel and stomped back outside.

+++

You blinked as Miguel strolled up to the table. To say he looked enraged would’ve been an understatement: his nostrils were flared, shoulders tensed and face glowing a bright cherry red.

“Miguel, what’s wrong?” you asked as you placed a hand on his large arm. Your husband paused as he glanced towards the glass doors. His eyes became half-lidded as he took your hand into his before pulling you up. You squeaked as he reached down and cupped his other palm against the globe of your ass.

“M-Miguel,” you said in a loud whisper as you nervously glanced around. You could’ve sworn you saw him smirk as the waiter rushed up to your table. Mark’s hands trembled as he threw the credit card and receipt down.

“Thankyouhavealovelyevening!” he squeaked before running back into the building. You furrowed your brows before grabbing your things.

"I wonder what happened to him?" you wondered aloud as you slipped your cards into your purse. Your face glowed with heat as Miguel squeezed your supple ass with more force before guiding you across the patio.

“Miguel, people are looking,” you whispered as your eyes scanned the crowd.

“Let them look,” he replied with a low rumble as he opened the door for you. You tilted your head down as waiters, patrons, even the receptionist stared as your husband escorted you to the front of the building.

Miguel didn’t even need to say anything as the two of you made your way towards the valet stand, the man’s face beet red as you approached. He quickly snatched your keys and rushed to get your car, nearly tripping over the curb in the process. You glanced up at your beloved, his face twisted with even more fury than before. You bit your lip as you turned around and rested your hands on his chest.

“Miguel, bebé, please tell me what’s wrong,” you pleaded while rubbing your palms against his white button-up. Miguel’s shoulders remained stiff as you rubbed his chest, your bottom lip poking out every so slightly. "¿Por favor?" you asked [Please?]. He frowned and glanced away as the valet rolled up with your car and scrambled towards you.

“H-Have a good evening,” the man said, his face completely drained of all color. You gave the valet an apologetic smile before you slid into the black, polished car. The tension on the ride home was nearly unbearable. Miguel’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he kept his eyes on the road, his large hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned pale. The sound of soft jazz playing on the radio did little to ease the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

Did you do something wrong? Did he actually hate the gift you gave him? He put so much effort into booking the restaurant and the place the two of you stayed where he proposed to you…and what did you give him? A repaired watch.

You felt completely deflated by the time Miguel pulled up to your apartment complex.

“We’re home,” he said in a subdued voice. You nodded, your heart sinking into your stomach as you unbuckled your seatbelt. Your shoes clacked against the sidewalk as the two of you made your way to the front door.

“Evening, Mr. and Mrs. O’Hara,” the doorman Ben said.

"Evening, Ben," you said with a small smile. Your throat tightened when Miguel wrapped one of his bulky arms around you and pulled you to his side. You frowned as the two of you stepped inside, his grip unyielding as you walked into the elevator. You felt Miguel loosen his hold on you, allowing you some space to step back.

“Miguel, what-” you gasped when he pinned you against the wall and captured your mouth in a wet, sloppy kiss. Your breasts rubbed against your strapless bra as you felt him slide his tongue past your lips, his wet muscle tangling with yours as something hard poked at the inside of your thigh. You panted when he pulled back, his pupils blown and drinking in your curvaceous form.

“Y-You’re not mad at me?” you blinked. Your husband furrowed his dark brows.

“Mad? Why would I be mad at you, mi ángel?” Miguel purred as he rested his hands on your hips [my angel]. You gripped the lapels of his navy blue jacket as he began to grind his hard cock against your clothed pussy. You bit your lip as a pulse of arousal shot through your core.

“Te deseo, Mami,” your love groaned [I want you, Mommy]. You gasped as he rubbed his hard, throbbing cock against your crotch while he kneaded the supple flesh of your waist. “God, you have no idea how much I wanted to rip this dress off your body and fuck you right on that patio,” he rumbled and nipped at the shell of your ear. You shivered as Miguel trailed his lips over your pulse.

“Miguel,” you panted as he ground his hips against you, your clit throbbing against the fabric of your silky panties. Your husband pulled back as soon as the elevator dinged.

“Mi amor, por fa - te necesito,” he husked as he dipped his hand beneath your chin and tilted your head up [My love, please - I need you]. You felt your inhibitions quickly dissolve as a wave of heat pulsed through your core.

“Soy todo tuyo,” you whispered as you laid your hands over his chest [I’m yours]. You moaned as he bared his teeth against your neck and slid his hands over your plump ass. You squeaked and ducked your head into his broad shoulder when he slapped your rear, the slight sting sending ripples of arousal through your heat.

“I’m going to make sure you never forget this night,” Miguel growled as he kneaded your supple cheeks in his massive palms. Your heart raced as he picked you up by your waist and carried you into the penthouse. You dropped your purse on the tiled floor as you threaded your fingers through his dark, silky locks. Miguel groaned as your lips met in a passionate dance, your tongues gliding across one another with a soft squelch. You hungrily devoured each other’s mouths in a heated kiss as he kicked the bedroom door open. You squeaked at the sudden noise and tensed in his arms.

“Lo siento. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Miguel whispered, his plump lips dancing over yours [I’m sorry].

“It’s okay,” you murmured gently, your hands falling down to wrap around his thick neck. Your husband's eyes raked across your body as he laid you down on the plush, king-sized bed. You dug your nails into the back of his neck as he suckled over the nape of your neck, his deft fingers rolling the skirt of your dress over your hips. He sucked in a sharp breath when he laid eyes on your clothed sex.

“See what you do to me, bebé?” Miguel groaned before taking your hand and trailing it down his shirt. Your breath hitched when you felt the heavy, hard cock twitch against your palm. You bit your lip and mewled as your love nipped at your soft skin.

“Papi, fuck,” you gasped as he slid your thong to the side and rubbed at your slick, puffy folds with his digits. You husband rumbled as he spread your pussy lips apart with his thick fingers.

"Mm, tan mojada," Miguel groaned with a smirk [so wet].

"Please, Miguel," you swallowed thickly as you spread your legs as much as you could. Your husband licked his lips as he locked eyes with you.

"Don't worry, baby. Just need to make sure you're stretched out for my cock first," he rumbled. Your mouth opened in a silent moan when he suddenly sank two of his thick digits inside your tight, weeping hole.

“Oh my God!” you shivered and gripped the sheets as he curled his fingertips against your sensitive, spongey g-spot. Your gummy walls clenched around his two digits as Miguel chuckled. He parted his lips as he massaged your hip, his eyes lit with a deep, primal hunger.

“That’s it, bebé. Keep making those pretty noises for me,” Miguel grunted as relentlessly thrusted his fingers inside your plush cunt. Your eyes widened as he kissed down your chest and stomach before hovering his lips over your mound.

“S-Shit!” you moaned and arched your back as your husband dipped his head down and eagerly suckled on your bundle of nerves. Miguel grunted against your juicy slit, your arousal smearing over his broad chin as you ground your hips against his face. “M-Miguel, baby,” you groaned as your love flattened his warm tongue over your engorged bud.

“Tan bueno - sabe tan bien,” he growled against your wet folds before lapping at your clit [So good - tastes so good]. Tears of pleasure pricked at the corners of your eyes as Miguel continued to fuck your tight pussy with his thick fingers.

“Bebé,” you choked as you felt his digits stretch you out while he swirled his tongue around your bundle of nerves. Your jaw went slack when he curled his fingers inside you again, letting the intoxicating pressure linger for much longer.

“Make a mess on my face, Mami,” your husband urged with a low growl. A high-pitched cry left your swollen lips as Miguel eagerly pumped his fingers in and out of your tight, slick hole, the tension in your lower belly growing tighter and tighter.

“S-Sí Papi - just like that,” you encouraged him as you fisted the crisp bedsheets. Miguel groaned as your arousal dripped down his chin and neck, his tongue painting bold, wet stripes from your stuffed hole and all the way up to your clit. Your eyes rolled back as he pumped his fingers even faster while puckering his lips around your bundle of nerves.

“M-Miguel!” you squealed when he suddenly pulled his fingers out, leaving your hole puckering and begging for more. A bolt of pleasure struck through you when he started to hastily unbuckle his belt.

“Lo siento, mi vida. I can’t wait anymore,” Miguel growled as he shoved his slacks and briefs down in one swift motion. Your cunt fluttered when you saw his thick, heavy cock spring free, a thick bead of precum adorning his flush tip. Your husband's eyes remained on your dripping cunt as he shoved his jacket and white button-up onto the floor. Your mouth watered as you stared at the mortal Adonis standing in front of you, his rippling muscles tensing as he pumped his girthy shaft.

You gasped as he quickly climbed on top of you and cupped his palms against the back of your knees. You squealed when Miguel pushed your legs towards your shoulders, your puffy tummy poking out as he nearly folded you in half.

“Ah!” you cried as he slammed his cock inside you in one fluid thrust. Your legs tensed in his grip as you tried to adjust to the sudden fullness inside you, his girth stretching your tight hole with a delicious burn.

“Eyes on me, conejita,” Miguel murmured, his hot breath falling over your face and neck. You glanced through the sheet of tears that blurred your vision, your body quaking with pleasure as you felt the head of his cock kiss your cervix.

“I want you to make as much noise as you'd like. Don't worry about the neighbors...for tonight, it's just the two of us. Okay, Mami?” Miguel rasped before nipping the shell of your ear. You whined as your walls ached for the sweet drag of his veiny cock. You nodded vigorously as you bit your lip, the heaviness of his cock deliciously weighing in your tight hole.

"Such a good little wife," Miguel grunted as he pulled his taut hips back. Your heart skipped a beat as Miguel rested his forehead against yours before he sheathed his cock down to the hilt.

“Fuck!" you choked as you felt the slight sting of his cock molding your walls to its shape.

“God, I love how your tight, perfect pussy grips me,” Miguel murmured as he rocked his hips back and forth. His breath hitched as your walls squeezed his veiny shaft. Your cheeks burned as he wrapped his lips around yours while he thrusted into you at a rapid, sloppy pace.

“M-Miguel!” you screamed and wrung your hands in the sheets as your lover pounded into your cunt, each drag of his cock deliciously stretching you out more and more. You squealed as Miguel squeezed the back of your knees, his balls slapping against your plump asscheeks. You shivered as he released a deep growl, his cock throbbing and twitching between your swollen, gummy walls.

“R-Right there Papi!” you yelled as the bulbous head of his cock perfectly grazed over your g-spot. You threw your head back as your husband leaned forward and wrapped his lips around yours while he desperately pounded into your raw cunt.

“So good, so good to me," he panted. You moaned as you felt your cunt already starting to clamp down on his shaft.

“M-Miguel, wait! I’m gonna-” you were cut off when he pressed his lips to your neck, his hips snapping against yours and making your thick asscheeks clap loudly.

“Cum for me, conejita,” he grunted. Your bottom lip trembled as the tight knot in your belly suddenly snapped.

“MIGUEL!” you screamed as your slick walls clenched around his girth. Miguel’s thrusts stuttered as your pussy squeezed his cock in a vice grip, your slick gushing past the stuffed seam of your raw, tight cunt.

“Mierda,” your husband breathed as you unraveled beneath him [Shit]. You babbled as your cunt pulsed; every contraction sending an overwhelming wave of bliss over your trembling form. You moaned as Miguel continued to thrust his cock inside your weeping cunt, your arousal sticking to the front of his thighs as he groaned above you. Hot tears rolled down your puffy cheeks when Miguel suddenly pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach.

“Miguel?” you breathed as your heart raced. Your squealed as your husband pulled you up and wrapped his arms beneath your knees.

“Unphase the blinds to level zero,” Miguel rumbled. Your eyes widened as he lifted you up and immediately sheathed you down on his stiff cock, your slick pussy swallowing his length whole.

“¡P-Papi!” you gasped as he carried you over to your wide bedroom windows, the holographic blinds slowly fading to reveal the neon glow of Nueva York. Your thighs shook in his bulky arms as he froze just inches from the window. Your heart raced as you gazed at the lewd reflection of yourself in the crystal glass, your hot breath fogging against the clear surface.

Your jaw went slack as Miguel started to thrust into your wet heat, your gushing cunt squelching with each snap of his hips.

“Look down there, mi amor. Look at all those men who will never be able to fuck you like I do,” he rasped as he bounced you on his shaft. Your eyes glazed over as you gazed down at the streets below. You’d be more embarrassed had you not just cum on your husband’s dick…but there was a tiny part of you that indulged in being claimed by your beloved. “They’ll never get to hear your pretty moans, feel your soft, perfect pussy grip their cocks,” Miguel growled as he nipped at your neck. You dug your nails into his forearm as he pounded into your cunt with no restraint, his breathing growing ragged and arms tensing beneath your legs.

“Say you’re mine, (Y/N),” he groaned before puckering his lips over your pulse. You moaned as shook in his hold as you tried to swim through the haze of your ecstasy.

“I-I’m yours, Papi!” you screamed. You gasped as Miguel raked his teeth over your hickey.

“Who do you belong to?!” he snarled. You sobbed as your cunt greedily sucked in his cock with.

“I belong to you, Miguel!” you moaned loudly. You mewled as your arousal leaked onto the floor.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” your husband groaned as he kissed your cheek before thrusting even faster.

“Mmmm-Miguel,” you slurred. You screamed silently as he sank his teeth into your shoulder, the slight sting mixing with the intoxicating pleasure that rippled through your core. Your throat tightened as his cock dragged along your soft walls, your slick dripping down the inside of your thighs and gliding over your jiggling asscheeks.

“Gonna cum for me again, hm?” Miguel husked before tracing the tip of his tongue across the fresh bite mark.

“S-Sí, Papi,” you whined. You felt him smirk against your shoulder as he kept you in front of the window, your heart racing at the thought of someone seeing the two of you in such an intimate position. You moaned as his thrusts began to falter, his hot breath falling over your exposed skin.

“M-Mig-!” you shouted as your vision was flooded with white.

“Yes, that’s it Mami. S-Soak this fat fucking cock with your sweet cum,” your husband rasped as you threw your head against his shoulder.

“Fuck,” you sobbed as a wave of pleasure rushed through your heat, your pussy squirting all over his massive, swollen cock. Miguel groaned as he squeezed your legs.

“So close,” he hissed through gritted teeth as his cock twitched inside your fluttering walls. You gripped your hands over his as your body jiggled with every powerful snap of his hips.

“Por fa Papi…fill me,” you whispered breathily. Miguel grunted against your neck as he slammed you down on his cock for the last time. Both of you moaned as he painted your slick walls white with thick, heavy ropes of his seed. You felt Miguel shiver behind you as his cock throbbed, his warm cum splashing against your swollen cervix.

“Yes,” Miguel growled deeply as he kept your back pressed to his chest. You swallowed thickly and shuddered as his cock began to soften inside you, thick beads of his cum swelling and dripping down the curve of your ass. The air was filled with your deep, heavy breaths, your bodies coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

“That was…wow,” you didn’t even have the mental capacity to describe what just happened. Miguel chuckled softly and nodded.

“Yeah,” he grinned and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. You squealed as he gave your legs another gentle squeeze. “Activate blinds to ten,” Miguel called out. The windows soon fogged up with the holographic blinds again as he took a step back. Your eyelids began to grow heavy as he carried you to bed. You whimpered when your giant husband laid both of you down, his cock softening between your raw, oversensitive walls. You sighed as you felt his hands mindlessly wander across your body, his lips grazing your neck every so often.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Miguel murmured as his lips dancing over your pulse. You sighed.

“Actually, could we just stay here for a little bit?” you asked and slightly turned his face. The corners of your husband’s eyes crinkled as he gave you a gentle smile.

“Of course, mi amor,” he purred and pecked your lips. You returned his grin as he kept you against his chest, his large, bulky arms wrapped around you like a cozy cocoon. You kissed his bulging bicep before tracing your fingertips across the many dips and curves of his arm. Miguel sighed as he nuzzled his face against your neck, his warm breath tickling over your pulse.

“Te amo mucho, (Y/N),” your beloved whispered before gently kissing your cheek. You sighed as you relished in the way his lips lingered on your skin while you closed your eyes.

“Te amo mucho, Miguel,” you murmured softly.

----

Thank you for reading! 💖

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#🕷��_.miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x plus size reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel O’Hara x wife!reader #miguel o’hara smut #astv smut #spider man 2099 #spider man 2099 x y/n #spider man 2099 x fem!reader #spider man 2099 x you #spider man across the spider verse #astv #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #miguel spiderverse

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vague-humanoid · 2 months

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When I stepped into John Roe’s apartment early last December, slipping off my boots at the elevator that opens into the home, it wasn’t immediately clear that people inhabited the space, let alone a child. The four-bedroom, four-and-a-half bath Manhattan residence looked like a showroom. In the living room, a white minimalist couch with no arms confronted two white bouclé chairs. White couch, white lamps, white walls. Even Roe’s wife, Cherry, wore white. Charlotte of the Upper West Side has no dust, she told me—unlike the couple’s previous home, on the sixty-second floor of the Four Seasons Private Residences. Above my head, gentle classical music issued from invisible speakers.

Roe, a ruddy Asian man who wore a pink polo shirt tucked into khaki pants, is the developer of this nine-story brick and terra-cotta building, named after his daughter. His goal, Roe said, was to create the most immaculate and sustainable indoor environment possible. He obtained a Passive House Institute certification, which recognizes when buildings minimize the energy used for heating and cooling with airtight seals and insulation. (Such measures can decrease energy consumption by up to 90 percent.) To reduce residents’ inhalation of volatile organic compounds, Roe employed nontoxic building materials. Indeed, the star of Charlotte is its air. Each unit sports its own Swiss-engineered ventilation system, called Zehnder. On an iPad, Roe showed me the app that gives residents control over what they breathe.

The building’s approach to filtration is undeniably sophisticated. The air in each unit isn’t shared with any other. Outside air is brought in, filtered, treated with an ultraviolet-C light that kills 99.9 percent of pathogens, and completely changed out once per hour. Circulation can be boosted or slowed. Most apartments with similar systems recycle the air every four to five hours a day. “We were thinking, if we’re already going to build a Ferrari, then why would we only give it a 200-horsepower engine?” Roe said. “Let’s put a 1,000-horsepower engine into it.” The quadruple-layer, triple-paned windows feature museum-quality glass and are generally opened only for cleaning. Otherwise, you’d let in air far dirtier than what’s circulating inside.

At night, when Roe’s family is sleeping, it “smells like you’re camping, because the fresh air is getting pumped in at such a rapid rate,” he said. You know the air is good, he told me, because the hydrangeas last. Typically, when cut at the stem and arranged in a vase, the delicate flowers wither and droop in a few days. In his apartment, the blooms will stay perky for nearly two weeks.

@karpad @ubernegro @redstarovermoundcity @socialistexan

#they are literally creating personalized environments removed form the damage they are causing the world

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jacenbren · 5 months

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Tokyo Jujutsu Tech students and staff and whether or not they can drive:

Gojo

Drives a hideous minivan he got off Craigslist to spite his parents

Claims to be a “responsible driver” but is super jerky on the brakes and blows through stop signs

The students love riding with him because he always stops to get McDonalds. Nanami fucking HATES getting in the car with Gojo and avoids it at all costs

Talks incessantly to himself and to passengers while driving and constantly sings along to the radio

Yuuji

Currently learning to drive from Gojo (aka driving around while Gojo sits in the passenger seat with a milkshake and overshares about his past while occasionally yelling at Yuuji to speed up)

Inherited a tiny shitty old car from his grandpa and refuses to part with it

Drives either way too fast or really damn slow and there’s no in between

Can’t drive without the music on full blast because he’s used to Gojo talking his ear off

Megumi

Taught himself how to drive and refused to let Gojo teach him

Always goes exactly the speed limit and bitches about it whenever someone cuts him off (has attempted multiple times to summon Mahoraga on shitty drivers)

Absolutely VICIOUS when it comes to the aux cord and is a staunch supporter of the “the driver picks the music” rule

Gojo buys him a new car every year for his birthday but Megumi prefers his first car (a jeep. don’t ask why.)

Nobara

HORRIBLE road rage

Always going at least ten miles above the limit and has more speeding tickets than she does overcharged credit cards (Yuuji is holding on for dear life whenever he rides with her)

Convinced Gojo to buy her a luxury sports car and managed to dent it horrendously after two (2) weeks

Her car is always so full of shopping bags and makeup and other stuff that you can barely sit down

Yuuta

Also learned how to drive from Gojo and it shows

Doesn’t like driving because it triggers his anxiety and when he has to. oh boy.

Needs the car to be DEAD SILENT whenever he’s driving and sits hunched over in his seat with the look of a crazed chimpanzee in his eyes while he grips the steering wheel so hard he’s shaking

Doesn’t have a car and usually bums rides from Maki

Maki

A surprisingly decent driver but always goes way too fast and is notorious for tailgating people

Has at least two of the windows down at all times as long as it isn’t raining and always has her music on full blast

The only student who knows how to drive a stick shift. is weirdly proud of this fact.

Has a stereotypical straight-white-man-style lifted pickup truck that she refers to as “her baby”

Toge

Whips around corners at 20 miles over the speed limit and casually breaks every traffic law known to man but has never gotten a ticket thanks to his “expert persuasion techniques”

His car was one of Megumi’s cars before he stole it (Megumi doesn’t actually mind but he pretends to be annoyed on principle)

Drags Yuuta out every weekend to hotbox the car with him

Has like six of those little air fresheners that hang off the rear view mirror but they don’t exactly cover the weed smell

Panda

Somehow has a valid drivers license. no one knows how he got it.

Chews on the interior out of boredom when he’s stuck in traffic and the car constantly looks like a wild animal got loose in it

Has Yaga’s old car (a beat up old station wagon that doesn’t look great but hasn’t broken down in ten years)

Is the designated driver whenever the second and third years go out

Nanami

Owns the most beautiful classic car that he keeps spotlessly clean

An excellent driver who ALWAYS uses his blinkers and almost never loses his temper

Secretly salty that the students only to like ride with Gojo (it’s because Nanami never stops at McDonalds and always says something along the lines of “we have food at home”)

Curses out other drivers under his breath when he sees them driving recklessly

Shoko

Drives with one hand on the wheel and the other dangling out the window with a cigarette while blasting 90s dad rock

Bought a hearse years ago because she thought it would be funny

Would pick up Megumi and Tsumiki from school in the hearse if Gojo couldn’t make it

Megumi hates the hearse. Tsumiki loves it.

Yaga

Drives a tiny Kia soul and always has craft supplies all over the backseat because he forgot to bring them inside after his latest Joann’s shopping spree

Has a gigantic collection of mini plushies on the dashboard

Yells at people when they cut him off

Feels guilty about it whenever he has students in the car with him but can’t stop himself from yelling and ends up getting even more irritated and short-tempered because he feels guilty and the students riding with him are left in terrified silence as the vicious cycle continues

Hakari

Managed to single-handedly drive up Jujutstu Tech’s car insurance by thousands of dollars

#if y’all like this I might do the kyoto school too lol #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #yuuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #yuuta okkotsu #maki zenin #toge inumaki #panda jjk #kento nanami #shoko ieiri #yaga masamichi #hakari kinji #jjk headcanons #jacen writes

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yj-98 · 7 months

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oh sick a car appreciator. what cars would u have based the redbird on?

oohhh im glad u asked... to preface this btw im a car appreciator not exactly an. expert. i love old (40s-80s) cars (i grew up w/ my dream car being an aqua 1965 mustang convertible) but im not like. incredibly knowledgeable

that being said :] ! onward with redbird thoughts

shes supposed to be a rear engined sporty little coupe. modified to high hell. i would wager the rear engine is more so that tim can have weapons (missiles? grenade launcher? a fucking flamethrower?) under the hood and less actually thinking abt what a rear engine could DO for his driving experience at the ripe age of 14. its got a lowered chassis (rear-engine has a lower center of gravity, and if its a rear-wheel drive then overall its saving even More space cramped in the back, and probably has a better "grip" on the road) and apparently has pop out scoops for better airflow.. probably for the best.

its also got a bulletproof windshield! and blacked out windows! are those even legal in jersey? no! the tire shields are fine i guess

my problem with red bird is that shes just a little ugly. like there are things in the body of this car that have potential (i like the pop out scoops but they make the overall silhouette of the car look sort of . back heavy in a bad way) but ultimately fall flat.

so im gonna look at some cars that i think still sell the look they were going for!! FROM his time period even!!

the ferrari testarossa (produced from '84-'96 and im looking at the late 80s/early 90 ones here)

this is my ideal car to base redbird on. its a mid-engine, which has the best overall center of gravity, and while it limits cabin space its not like we were worried abt tht with tim. its still a 2 door sports car with a low chassis. the air scoops dont need to pop out, it has room in the back for the drag 'schute that they wanted to include, and has the room in the front too. also! she looks KILLER in red<3

the pontiac firebird trans am (1993) + chevy corvette ('90 red c4)

this is included in case we do not want to look at ferrari. sporty! red! coupe! i have less to say abt these ones honestly

i could just start naming other sporty coupes but my point being like.... theres cars of this era with the look theyre going for that look perfectly fine in the three different price ranges (general motors making pontiac as their low-tier, chevrolet as their bigger make) and ferrari at the luxury tier

ik 15 years later tim gets a new redbird (2008 i believe) and i do believe they WERE referencing real cars for redbird i simply think. it would not look like that. and didnt have to! less is more. if you want a cool looking aerodynamic sports car then she should look sleek. redbird drawn in the comics doesnt look sleek she just looks silly </3

ultimately i dont want to change her too much from being tim's (say it with me) sporty little red coupe. because thats not a bad thing for a car to be! i just dont think there was that much thought into what the car should look like aside from looking at a picture of a sports coupe and going "ok now add a flamethrower and a parachute"

#IDK IF THIS WAS WHAT YOU MEANT ... sorry. but ty for asking i just spent over an hour looking at cars #asks #dd 🫀#ultimatecryptid #i LOVE muscle cars and older 40s-50s cars especially #tim drake #rook.doc #redbird #ref

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ballplayersxo · 6 months

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Here’s my lil ting no one asked for on Kayla and Travis.

I don’t think Kayla was naive for thinking Travis was gonna take her down the aisle considering he was so hell bent on dating her. They’ve both shared the same story about how he pursued her for a year, stalked her, and than was crazy about her all throughout their relationship. She was gracious enough to give him a lil date after she was feeling bored. She broke up with him every single time they ended and he somehow managed (he was begging) to get her back.

Kayla was and is still followed by the majority of his family on social media. Most importantly his mother, who referred to her a daughter in law as a cute nickname. His mother tolerates Taylor Swift; it’s midwestern politeness but anyone from the here knows Mama Kelce isn’t too fond. His mother, btw, who thought it would be Kayla to give her the first grandchild NOT Ky. Speaking of Ky, although Ky is down to earth/tomboyish and Kayla is a princess through and through they loved each other and spent time outside sports together. Kayla would babysit Trav’s nieces who referred to her as ‘Aunty Kayla’. Also, for what it’s worth, Trav was paying for 90% of everything. I don’t know who the hell started that 50/50 cheap rumor because he was paying her rent/mortgage, buying luxury cars, her apartment, her condo, their vacations, dinners, and her designer.

Is Travis going to marry Taylor Swift? No. Are T and T a pr relationship? Surprisingly, no, but they will do paid gigs together. Are both Taylor and Travis extreme money hungry attention whores who are currently having the time of their lives? Yes and yes. Are Travis and Kayla going to get back together in far future? Unfortunately, yes.

They’re still sharing dogs as if the canines were children in a divorce. So, even if we don’t see them communicate, just know at least every 2-3 weeks they see one another. Kayla still has a place in Kansas City.

** I apologize for the essay I wrote, when I started i thought it was going to be a lil paragraph.**

hmm it always seemed as though travis was leading her on. didn’t travis’ dad mention that travis told him that he knew after a year kayla wasn’t the one? and why would travis joke that kayla would never get a ring? and the cheap rumours came from kayla complaining about how other girls could afford designer while she mentioned she was shopping at zara. then travis tweeted that she was independent so that was all a disgrace. yk little things like that make me question his motives. all of this was talked about in the lipstick alley thread according to my source (my sister who stays in there 😭) so idk how much i believe that he really wanted her. idk man

#travis kelce

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escailyyy · 2 years

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I think part of the reason I love modern Sansa and Tyrion so much in 'the real Sansa and Tyrion' is because I always imagined them in a modern au as this mega rich celebrity couple that is super high profile but once they got married they simply don't give a shirt about what people think about them

As in Sansa and Tyrion will rock up to the Lannister mansion in a sports car that Sansa just learned how to drive and is 90% likely to crash in Cersei's front porch while Tyrion is totally cheering her on from the passenger seat chanting "Do it! Do it! lady wife! Hit the gas harder!"

Half of the time the tabloids call Sansa Tyrion's child bride and Tyrion's sugar baby. But also they milk the rumors for all it's worth and just purposefully get photographed spend Tywinn's money on outrageously extravagant stuff like a gold statue of the two of them holding hands, realstate that looks like food. Or whatever Hello Kitty matching red carpet outfits say 'child brideeee' all over their front.

Sansa will totally show up to Tyrion's place of work and start war with Daenerys just to get Tyrion to leave early, and Tyrion will totally surprise Sansa on a random day with a diamond stolen out of Tywinn's safe, because he's romantic like that.

And just, like, as a couple, For Sansa stark I just love that Tyrion Lannister would be the most chaotic doting husband for her. And he's the one that I would find the most fun to write about, being Sansa's husband in a modern au.

No offense to all the other options. But you can't deny the absolute chaos Sansa and Tyrion could rain on westeros if they lived in the modern world.

And also, when not making Tywin and Cersei's life miserable for fun. Or harassing Jamie and Brienne to get together already. You bet modern Sansa and Tyrion go to therapy together and totally support each other as abuse survivors 100% of the time.

I can see them as a couple who puts up a front Infront of others of being a chaotic couple who only loves making fun of people they don't like and enjoying the luxury things in life. But in private they are actually a very wise and sensitive married couple who believe in supportive partnership and go to therapy together once a week to work trough their individual traumas.

Also their relationship with the Starks would be so fun. Because again, Sansa marrying an older guy would totally scandalize her loving parents and she low key lives for it, because she played by the rules all her life and was unhappy but now her career is finally untouchable and she's Tyrion's pampered wife, so she's living her best life unapologetically.

Tyrion on the other hand loves the Starks even if Ned and Catelyn treat him like a cradle robber. And Sansa's siblings just like him for the chaos. They all accept him in their own way and he is totally team Stark.

Cue Tyrion with a direwolf t-shirt parading himself all over Casterly Rock wearing a baseball cap that says WHIPPED 4 WIFE

So yeah this is sort of how I see modern Sanrion in the reality tv au. Which is why they got offered a reality tv show in the first place. As a celebrity couple they would be way more entertaining than any other reality marriage

#trs&t #sanrion au #sanrion #sansa stark #Tyrion Lannister #sansa x tyrion

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elfdragon12 · 2 months

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Ohh Arcee's a lambo I couldn't recognise what her alt mode was!! Really hoping next issue gives us a good look at it!

Yeah, lambos have a specific curve to them other luxury/sports car brands don't use and that design has stayed pretty consistent through the years, which is how I recognized the alt mode. (Cliffjumper is possibly a 90s era Pontiac Firebird?)

As you can see, fender to trunk is all one curve!

They're not my favorite luxury/sports car design, but it's a pretty slick and cool choice for Arcee! I'm excited to see more of it!

#ask #anonymous #transformers #energon universe #tfeu #Spoilers #Arcee

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smartycvnt · 1 year

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Sleeping With the Enemy

Pairing: Kenny Omega x Reader Prompt: "Do you think of me when you touch yourself?" Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving)

Traveling by yourself was a rare luxury. However, it could also be a curse. Breaking down in your own car, not a rental, was not something you had foreseen happening on your drive towards Chicago. There was nothing that you could do about it, so you had called Tony Khan to let him know that you might not be able to make it to the taping. You didn't have a match that night, just a couple of segments that'd be released later on. Technically, you could have shot them anywhere, but you wanted to be able to see everyone else's matches as well. Despite what a lot of people had come to believe about you, helping to improve the industry was something that you were deeply invested in.

A part of you didn't know how that idea had even been put in people's heads. You had never done anything to make it seem like you were only in it for yourself or the money. Wrestling had always been an interest of yours, even if you had hidden it growing up. You prided yourself on always being at different shows and ready to work if you were called upon. Maybe someone had seen you cover for someone else who was running late or injured and just assumed the worst. You did know that people seeing you in that light had definitely changed the course of your career a little bit. A short stint at NXT had been great, but Vince McMahon had released you so that didn't work out. In a bold mood, you had reached out to Tony Khan personally and stated your interest in working at his company. If not for Kenny Omega's adamant arguments against it, you'd have been signed as soon as your 90 days were up, but instead you had only recently been signed.

"What's wrong? Did your Porsche break down?" You had been so caught up in your own thoughts and anger about your situation that you didn't even notice the car pull up behind you. There were a few people that you worked with who you wouldn't have been surprised to see helping you, but Kenny Omega wasn't one of them. He hated you more than anybody else, which was ironic since you knew the two of you had quite a bit in common.

"This isn't a sports car. Even a meathead like you should be able to see that." You weren't in a good mood, so you were a little snappy.

"Whatever, grab your bags and let's go," Kenny told you. He walked back to his car and got in to wait for you. You grabbed your bags, locked your doors, and checked in on the tow truck that was coming to pick up your car. "Why didn't you just get a rental like everyone else?"

"Because I didn't feel like spending the money when it's close enough to my house that I don't have to. I'm staying at my own place while we're here anyways, which is where you can drop me off by the way," you told him. Kenny scoffed, muttering something under his breath. "What was that?"

"Oh nothing, just thinking about how grateful I am to be playing your personal driver." Kenny's hand tightened around the steering wheel a little as he sped up. You could tell that he was tense, but you didn't really know why. It wasn't the usual tension, this felt a little different. It reminded you of whenever the two of you had wrestled each other on the indies and Kenny had avoied you like the plague at every other show the two of you were booked at for the next eight months. "Anywhere else you need to stop your highness?"

"Maybe CVS, you're acting like a bitch which means you need to get laid," you said. Kenny blushed as he turned his head away from you. It would have been nothing, but you had caught the little shifting in his seat as well. "Seriously?"

"Shut up," Kenny snapped a little. You put your hands up in surrender, but that didn't stop the amused look on your face. Kenny tried his best to ignore you, but you didn't make it easy. A lot of people had told you that you had a tendency to draw in attention. As Kenny glanced over towards you every few minutes, you realized that it really must have been true. "Are we getting close to your house?"

"About 20 more minutes. Don't worry though, I'll be out of your hair soon enough and then you can take care of your little problem," you teased. It wasn't like you had meant to catch the bulge in Kenny's pants, but he had been doing quite a bit of shifting in his seat. Kenny was puzzled for a moment in regard to your comment, but then it dawned on him. At the stoplight, he reached into the backseat and grabbed a hoodie to place over his lap. "I was joking, but I guess it's a little flattering."

"Maybe I just don't want a perv like you staring at my crotch the whole ride," Kenny said curtly. A part of you wanted to apologize, but the bigger and more immature part of you won out, so you decided to mess with him a little more.

"Which one of us is really the perv here, Ken? I mean I'm just sitting here, and you're the one having to cover up your hard on. Most guys at least wait until I'm half naked, but good for you for getting a head start." Kenny pulled the car off onto a side street and away from traffic. You prepared yourself for him to completely blow up on you about this, but instead he just took a few calming breaths before he turned towards you. You had definitely overstepped, but most of your interactions with Kenny were just the two of you overstepping with personal blows.

"You aren't going to make me mad enough to fuck you. I don't like ring rats," Kenny said. He moved the hoodie off of his lap, but the tent was still there. "You couldn't pay me to stick myself inside of you."

"Wow, how original. Did you listen to Cornette last week or something?" you asked him. Kenny softened a little at the reminder that the two of you weren't so different. Most critics who had issues with Kenny had them with you as well. "And who says that I'd let you fuck me?"

"You've tried to before," Kenny reminded you. You wished that you could say it was a one time thing, but you had a tendency of drunk dialing him. You had even gone as far as sending him nudes before, but rarely did any of that get brought into your arguments. A part of you really wanted Kenny Omega for yourself and was mad that he didn't want you either. "Maybe if you weren't such an infuriating bitch I could go for you."

"You say one thing, but your body does another." You pointed down at his lap. Kenny grabbed your wrist and pushed your arm back against the window. Your breath hitched, not out of fear, but excitement. Kenny hated you, but you knew that he was a good enough guy not to cross certain boundaries. You thought that you were in the clear, but Kenny glanced up at you to make sure that you weren't on the verge of panic. He could see the curiosity and want in your eyes. "Come on, is that all you've got?"

"Interesting," Kenny hummed as he squeezed your wrist a little. The flare of arousal in your eyes had not been missed. "I didn't expect that from you."

"Do you think about what I might be into a lot Kenny? Is that what you think about when you touch yourself?" you asked him. "I don't know if you can handle everything I need big guy."

"Whatever." Kenny laughed it off. Now that he knew you were just as turned on as he was, none of your jabs were hitting the same. Kenny got back on the road and drove all the way to your house. You didn't like the smugness in Kenny's demeanor, but you couldn't do anything about it without risking your own embarrassment. Surprisingly, whenever you arrived at your house, Kenny got out of the car to help you carry your bags inside. You had to admit that Kenny was a gentleman, and even whenever the two of you were at each other's throats, he had somewhat maintained it. "This is a lot different than I expected. I thought you were a trustfund baby."

"Not exactly. I have a few flashy things, but most of my money goes into wrestling," you explained. Kenny nodded as he looked at the various pictures hanging on your walls. He stopped in front of your fireplace and picked one up, smiling at it fondly. You were watching him, unsure of how you felt about him looking so comfortable in your home. It was sort of nice and filled you with a longing for a serious partner, but you knew that it couldn't be Kenny. The two of you wouldn't be able to get over yourselves long enough to make things work. "Whatcha looking at?"

"This picture. I remember being at this show. I think it was our first match against each other," Kenny said as he turned the frame towards you. You smirked at the memory and subsequent screaming match in the parking lot. "You almost look innocent here. Fooled the hell out of the Bucks back then."

"I think you mean, you hadn't gotten the idea that I'm the devil in their heads," you corrected. Kenny didn't deny that he had worked hard to convince them you were as bad as he saw you. "Why the hell were you so mad at me after this?"

"Seriously? You kept pushing your ass back to grind against me when we were working through holds." In all honesty, you hadn't been doing it on purpose. In fact, you hadn't even known that you were doing it in the first place. You shot Kenny an apologetic look, one that he seemed to accept from you. "I might have blown it out of proportion a little after though."

"A little? I have been denying rumors that we fucked for years because of that fight. People seriously think that I'm only at AEW so that you can fuck around with me again," you scoffed. Kenny chuckled a little as he rubbed his face. There was an awkward energy that washed over the room, and despite your best efforts, you couldn't ignore it. "And trust me, if I was trying to turn you on in that match, everyone would know it."

"Have you ever stopped to think that maybe you're not as hot as you think you are?" Kenny asked you.

"Never," you laughed. Kenny rolled his eyes as he set the picture down. "But I'm glad that you agree I am hot."

"You're glad, really?" Kenny turned his body towards you, just barely entering your personal space. You looked away from his face, trailing your eyes down his chest instead. Kenny reached forward and tilted your chin up to face him. "I heard you had a thing for me once upon a time. I'm starting to think that's not true. You totally still like me."

"Like is a strong word," you countered. Kenny laughed nervously as the meaning of your words hit him. His hand twitched at his side, as if he wanted to reach towards you. There was something hesitant about him, but then it quickly melted away as he reached out to pull you towards him. You wished that the next moments had gone in slow motion. After years of being at each other's throats, you and Kenny were kissing. It felt like a cinematic occasion of sorts. There was hunger behind the kiss that you hadn't felt from anybody else before.

"Do you want this?" Kenny asked once the two of you had finally taken a break in kissing. You couldn't think too long on an answer, but you couldn't just rush into this. Kenny was looking at you as you thought it over. There was a look on hope on his face without a trace of any expectations. Nobody had ever looked at you like that, not that you had ever noticed at least, and it made you feel good. You nodded and took Kenny's hand to lead him to your bedroom.

Inside your bedroom things escalated quickly. Kenny's body was beneath yours as the two of you made out. You could taste him on your tongue and lips even when his mouth wasn't on yours anymore. The feeling of his lips lingered on your skin as he trailed quick kisses down your body. You could feel Kenny getting harder the more he explored your body. His fingers teased your cunt before slipping inside to stretch you out a little. You didn't have to verbally tell Kenny anything, he read the signals your body sent him. Still, he paused to ask before moving things forward each and every time. It was a nice reminder that even if you had hated each other, there was some level of respect between the two of you. The comments about you being a ring rat and sleeping with any guy who gave you the right look only went so deep.

"Fuck," Kenny swore as he slid inside of you. He was bigger than you had expected, not that you would ever admit to giving his size much thought. Even with the preparation that Kenny had done, it was more than you were used to. Kenny could tell that you were mildly uncomfortable, so he took things slowly. A part of you wanted to crawl and hide at the level of attention he was giving to you, but you stuck it out. The more comfortable you got with Kenny, the easier it was to ignore the way that he was watching you. Most guys were more into the fucking itself than watching you get fucked. Kenny seemed content with watching your face distort with pleasure as he thrust in and out of you.

You hadn't necessarily picked great hookups before this, so you weren't used to cumming the first you were with someone. And so, your orgasm had snuck up on you. Kenny wasn't nearly as surprised as you. He slowed his pace down and continued to give you shallow thrusts until you had completely come down. Whenever he pulled out, you had expected things to be done, but that was far from the case. Kenny placed his hand on the back of your head and guided your mouth towards the head of his cock. You didn't hesitate or even think it over as you let him slip himself into your mouth. Just like whenever Kenny had fucked you, he inched himself inside of you slowly. He kept his hand on the back of your head as he thrust his hips forward, but the force wasn't enough to keep you there if you wanted to move away.

"Goddamn," Kenny grunted as he glanced down to see that you had taken every inch of him easily. You could tell that he was close, so you let him just use your throat to get himself off. Kenny pulled away as he started to cum, which had somewhat surprised you. He didn't stick around much afterwards though, getting out of your house almost as soon as he could clean himself off and get his clothes back on. You had gone to the bathroom for a shower and come back to an empty bedroom, not that you were upset by it. As you made your way back over to your bed, you noticed that he hadn't grabbed everything and left his shirt on accident. In a move that didn't quite make sense to you, you had put it on before laying down in bed to rest the stress of your travels away.

#aew x reader #aew #aew imagine #aew imagines #kenny omega imagines #kenny omega imagine #kenny omega #kenny omega x reader

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sirowsky · 2 years

Text

Well, the day has arrived!

First off, let me just once again say thank you to everyone that took part in this celebration, I've had so much fun with this!

For this special day I've written a bigger story, taking a first stab at Frankie Morales and I'm hoping you'll enjoy reading this as much as I've loved writing it <3

This is Frankie x female reader (called Zoe but otherwise no description) and I'm gonna say Mature rating, because of adult themes and implied smut, so 18+ONLY.

~Trying to escape the whole concept of your birthday, you go for a drive, but it doesn't take you where you'd thought it would.~

Word Count: 8500 Author’s Masterlist Birthday Stories

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-=The Day=-

It was almost that day.

That one day of the year when you wished that it would’ve been possible to just skip forwards 24 hours and be free of the misery, but alas, time was beyond all control, forcing you to endure what always seemed like an endless day, that somehow also always ended before you’d had a chance to experience it.

The day that felt like the perpetual inconvenience to everyone: your birthday.

You’d long since stopped expecting anyone to wanna make plans with you, or even show up if you left an open invitation for the entire day, no strings attached, no gifts required. Unless you hitched your celebration onto something like a casual barbecue, preferably at someone else’s house, and made as little mention of it as possible, no one showed much of an interest.

It wouldn’t have bothered you that much, except you actually liked to celebrate getting older. Getting to live and be healthy for another year, in this increasingly dangerous world, was indeed something to be thankful for, and you wanted to mark the occasion. You didn’t need gifts or flowers, just a few hugs, well wishes, good food and a happy atmosphere, and you’d consider it a truly wonderful day. How was that too much to ask?

This year had no prospects of being anything other than what the last ten years had offered, so for the first time, you’d decided to not celebrate at all. You got up the morning before the day, packed some food and essentials, turned your phone off and stuck it in the bottom of a bag, hopped in your car and drove out of town. There was no planned route or specific destination, you just wanted to drive. To not be in your hometown, surrounded by disappointment, just this once.

The radio was blaring 90’s pop and rock music and you wailed along to the familiar notes of your childhood without a care in the world of who might hear you, dancing in your seat although careful not to lose focus of the road. When you saw something interesting, you explored it, when your ass got numb, you found a place to stop where there were hiking trails and went for a walk. And when you got hungry, you stopped at any decent looking rest-stop and ate some of the food you’d brought.

It was freeing. No one else’s thoughts, wishes or needs to consider, no dull conversations to pretend to be engaged by and no one to distract or annoy you. Just you and your car and an endless amount of road ahead of you. By 10pm you’d driven almost a thousand miles and decided to stop for the night, so in the next town you entered, you found a hotel and took a room for the night, treating yourself to a long hot bath and sleeping in a soft bed.

You got up early the next morning, the dreaded B-day which you were actively ignoring, heading down for breakfast with all the elderly or business-minded early risers, before you’d be checking out, intent on having a very good day all by yourself. The hotel wasn’t that big, but still felt luxurious somehow, and the breakfast buffet was top notch, sporting an exotic blend of warm and cold selections, along with every type of fruit you could imagine, and at least twenty different types of bread.

The cafeteria was small and so most of the tables were full, but there was a seat available opposite a nice-looking guy, reading something on his phone, with those white iPhone earpieces on. You walked over there and gently tapped the top of the table to get his attention and when he looked up, you raised your eyebrows in a silent question, since he still couldn’t hear you, while pointing at the empty chair, with a soft smile on your lips. He looked befuddled at first but once he realized what you were asking, he hurried to pick his earpieces out.

“Oh, sure, go ahead. Sorry about that.”

“Thank you, and don’t let me distract you, I’ll be out of your hair as soon as this plate’s empty.”

“I wasn’t doing anything important, just keeping my hands busy. Please feel free to relax and enjoy your breakfast, you’re not bothering me at all.”

“That’s very kind of you. I wasn’t expecting so many people to be up and about already, it’s not even 7.30 yet.”

“No, but it’s a Thursday so it’s probably mostly people that are here for work and don’t really have a choice. Although, I assume from your comment that you’re not?”

“Oh, no, just travelling for my own pleasure and wanted to get an early start.”

“Ah, I see. I’m here for a wedding myself, and I can’t sleep because I’m supposed to do the whole best man speech, and I haven’t got a clue what to say. I was actually googling speeches when you walked up.”

He looked genuinely insecure about that, and there was something very endearing about the way he dipped his chin and smiled nervously.

“Speeches are hard overall, particularly if you don’t know the crowd. But if you’re the best man then I assume you do.”

“That’s kinda the hitch… the guy’s moderately famous so there’s like four hundred guests. I know him like the back of my hand, we’ve been friends for ages, but I haven’t been around that much the past few years, so I don’t know a lot of the people he hangs out with now. I was actually surprised that he asked me.”

“Some friendships are cast in concrete. Nothing you can do about it. How much time do you have until this shindig, anyway?”

He looked at his wristwatch and chuckled, with an undertone of panic.

“Bout six hours.”

“Want some help? I’m no Woody Allen but I can put together some reasonably entertaining sentences, when I make an effort.”

“Oh, my god, yes! I mean, you’d be saving my dignity from irreparable damage.”

“I’m sure you’d do fine on your own. You strike me as someone prone to self-doubt, but I think you’re probably good at a lot of things, and a lot better than you think, at everything you get into. But I’m happy to help, regardless.”

“Uh… are you psychic, or something? Cause that’s pretty much exactly what my mom would say about me, if anyone asked.”

“Nope. Just observant. You have proficient hands. You can call me Zoe, by the way.”

“Frankie, and I’m ridiculously pleased to meet you.”

You preferred to write with a pen and paper when you were jotting down ideas, so you picked up a small notebook that you always carried in your shoulder-bag, before setting to work interrogating the man about his friend and their relationship. For two hours you traded ideas back and forth, between cups of coffee or tea and getting lost in old memories here and there, and you learned that these two did have a very close relationship, primarily because they were army brothers.

You also sussed out that Frankie seemed to have had a troubled past, which he’d managed to turn around in these last few years after his wife had filed for divorce, which appeared to have been a really rough time for him. In truth, you probably learned more about your current company than about the man who you were trying to write about. But he was easy to talk to and had an inviting energy about him, pulling you in and making you look closer, unintended questions rolling off your tongue with the simple comfort of the conversation. So, when it came time for the two of you to part ways, you suddenly hated the prospect. He'd so easily made you forget what day it was.

“Well, I should get back on the road.”

You tried to keep a cheerful tone in your voice, but even to your own ears, it sounded false, as you walked towards the reception desk to check out. He followed, since he was heading up to his room to get ready, and you wondered what his suit looked like, feeling absolutely certain that he’d look gorgeous whether he wore a tux or a ratty old t-shirt. There was something very appealing about the mix of devoted father with his boyish streak creeping into his features in every smile, and the hardened military man that knew to appreciate the quiet moments.

“Hey, seriously… thank you so much, self-doubt or not, I never could’ve come up with something this good.”

“It was my pleasure. I mean that. It was a wonderful and well needed distraction.”

He just looked at you for a few beats, and you felt like there was something he was chewing on, trying to decide whether to mention it.

“You’re not just on a scenic drive through the country, are you, Zoe? You’re running from something.”

He paused to let you object if you felt like it, but you were a bit stunned, and merely waited to hear what else he’d apparently figured out about you in return. Had you even told him anything about yourself? You couldn’t recall mentioning anything too revealing, so he had to be even more observant than you.

“I’m gonna guess either a job that’s smothering you, or family that perhaps expects too much or takes you for granted.”

You couldn’t do anything but stare at him for about half a minute, until your voice came back.

“All of the above…”

His eyebrows climbed, hearing that.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, that’s terrible. I really didn’t think I got that much right.”

You nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you held them back.

“Yeah, nicely done. Your instincts are impressive.”

“Hey, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You crossed your arms over your waist and dipped your gaze to the floor for a second.

“I honestly don’t know anymore. That’s kinda what this trip is about. I just need to try and figure myself out, before I decide whether or not to take a huge leap and make enormous changes to my life, in the blind hope that it’ll somehow make me happier.”

A deep breath filled your lungs, making you realize that you’d all but emptied them with that unintended confession.

“Wow… Sorry, I didn’t mean to spew all my troubles out like that, this is supposed to be a happy day for you.”

It was supposed to be a happy day for you too, but no need to mention that. It wasn’t his concern and even though you liked him, you were unlikely to ever meet him again. You made an effort to brighten yourself, meeting his eyes with a smile that you hoped might convey how grateful you really were for the preoccupying task of helping him. But he saw through it.

“How far are you going?”

“No clue. I don’t have a plan, I’m just driving.”

He nodded once, determinedly, and reached a hand out to gently hold your arm at the elbow, something you knew as a supportive gesture, more commonly used on children or elderly. It seemed instinctive and natural to him, probably because he was a parent.

“Then stay in town today. See the sights, enjoy yourself, go to the beach. And when the shindig ends, let me join you again. I’m no youth anymore, so staying up half the night with obnoxiously drunk people is not gonna happen, but a quiet walk through a park or just a milkshake at a burger-place would be nice. I’d take you out for a drink, but I’m trying to stay away from too much alcohol.”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

You blurted the words out before you could talk yourself out of it, and he smiled in earnest, pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it, asking for your number. You gave it without second thought, asking for his in return, opting to scribble it down in your notebook for now, since your phone was still off. And once that was all done, he surprised you by pulling you into a firm hug, whispering in your ear while he held you.

“Sorry if I’m overstepping, but you looked like you needed one of these, and I give good ones. Or so I’m told.”

His tone was light and happy, and it infected you, making you huff a laugh with your response.

“I can confirm it’s true. And thank you, I did need this.”

You parted ways after that, him heading for the elevators, turning back to wave at you while you stood by the reception desk to take care of the checkout, when you remembered his predicament and shouted after him:

“Break a leg!”

He rolled his eyes in response, and you stifled a giggle, suddenly wondering when you’d last felt this kind of enthusiasm.

Turning the phone on later that day turned out to be a mistake. Sure, you would’ve had to at some point, it was somewhat unavoidable, but it was still disheartening to not have a single message from your family, neither birthday related nor even just asking where you were. You added Frankie’s number and left it on, in case he’d get in touch earlier than you expected, before getting out of your car at a travelling funfair that had set up their carousels and markets not far from the city centre.

You had lunch there and then strolled through the markets, buying little trinkets for yourself and talking to random strangers about how the weather was excellent for the fair and how many people had found their way there, even on a Thursday. A couple of hours passed in relaxed walking among happy people, but the noise got tiresome then, so you left the fair and headed for a riverside boardwalk that you’d driven past earlier, just a few streets away.

You’d just sat down on a bench among blossoming lilac bushes, looking out over the sparkling water under the clear blue sky, thinking about how the weather was perfect for a wedding too, when your phone pinged. For a moment, you hesitated to pick it out of your pocket to check it, just in case the message was from a family member. But the prospect that it might be Frankie was way too enticing.

-- Hey, stranger. Bail on me yet? --

You snorted at first, thinking along the lines of “as if…” but then the words settled into your mind, and you realized that he might be genuinely worried that you had. You remembered his self-doubt very clearly, and decided not to answer with a quip, just to make sure that he wouldn’t worry.

-- Hey, handsome. I would never do that to someone so kind. How’s the shindig? –

-- The speech went really well, so I guess I’m gonna owe you for the rest of time. But overall, it’s kinda boring thus far. Should’ve brought a date. --

-- No bridesmaids to chat up? --

He didn’t answer that right away, so you returned you attention to the calm water, thinking he’d been interrupted by something. Which was why, when the reply finally came, some five minutes later, you were surprised to realize that he’d probably just been unsure if he’d dare to send it.

-- I should’ve asked you to come with me. --

You read it three times, smiling wider with each repeat of those few words.

-- I would’ve gone with you. For the excellent company, and to be able to say that I’ve crashed a wedding once. --

This time, the reply was almost instant.

-- Thank you. Although, it’s not technically crashing if you’re someone’s plus one, is it? –

-- Technically, anyone that didn’t rsvp is crashing. –

-- Right. So, where are you now? --

-- Chillin’ on the boardwalk. Feet got tired after trudging around a funfair. --

-- There’s a fair in town? I’d love to see it. Can I meet you there later? --

-- Sure. I was gonna suggest the same, actually. Got my eye on a few carousels… --

-- I’m game. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve clawed my way out of here. --

-- Not that I’m not looking forward to seeing you, but don’t run off on your friend, okay. He’ll hopefully only get married once. --

-- Ironically, he’d probably be the first to tell me to get my ass over to you ASAP. --

-- Then he’s a truly good friend that you shouldn’t bail on. I’ll look forward to seeing your good-looking ass anytime. --

He just sent a blushing smiley in return, and you grinned widely before putting the phone away again.

*-----*-----*-----*-----*

The smiley might’ve been a bit immature, but at least it was accurate, because Frankie really did blush reading your latest message. He wasn’t overly confident about his looks, even though much of his army physique was very much intact, save for the six-pack having been hidden behind by a soft layer of fat. That wasn’t something that bothered him on a daily basis, more just in situations like this, when he wanted to be as attractive as possible, but there were other things too.

His hair was always too long and too obviously ignored, usually trapped under a baseball cap to keep out of his eyes, and even on occasions like this when he was dressed up, the only effort spent on it was simply to clean it. And the scruff on his chin wasn’t a fashion thing, it was a laziness thing. Also, his ex-wife had hated it, wanting him clean shaven all the time, throwing a fit every time he came home looking ragged after a mission. Since she’d ditched him, he didn’t much care about her opinions on his looks anymore.

The wedding was fine, overall. The ceremony had been short and sweet, no long speeches or minister droning on forever about the sanctity of marriage, just the simple traditional rituals followed by a short walk over to a converted old rectory, now serving as a venue. There the late lunch had been served almost immediately, probably because of the groom’s own insatiable appetite, during which Frankie and several others had gotten their speeches out of the way, and now in the late afternoon, the party was starting.

“Hey, Cat, don’t think I didn’t catch you smiling at your phone earlier. That kinda smile. So, let’s hear it, who is she?”

He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Benny coming back to the table and sitting down next to him again, after making rounds around the room to chat and mingle, until a hand tapped the side of his shoulder. He tried to school his expression to not reveal just how much he was already warming to you, to try and keep things light and innocent for now, since he had no idea if he’d even see you again after today.

“Just someone I met at the hotel. Gave me some pointers on the speech. Like, loads of them.”

“See, I knew you had help, that was way too eloquent to be all you. But I’m glad to see that smile on you, bro, it’s been too long. You gonna see her again?”

“Uh… Yeah, later tonight. Just casual, you know, don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“In other words: don’t tell the guys so they’ll show up and ‘help’…”

“Benny, please…”

“Hey, listen. You’re my best friend. I got nothing against you going your own way to figure out that whole mess with Cassie, that’s your thing and you gotta do it however you need to. But… I know you’ve been struggling. This lone wolf thing, that’s not you. So, if you’re about to take that leap again, you better believe I’m not gonna let anyone ruin it for you.”

“Damn, Benjamin. You tryin’ to make me cry again?”

“What can I say, it’s my wedding-day, I’m happy and sappy and sentimental. But I mean it, bro. If this woman’s got you smiling like that again, then you need to try and keep her.”

“Easier said than done, man.”

Ben ignored that comment, barrelling straight onto his next question as if Frankie hadn’t even spoken. His way of saying ‘do whatever you need to, but this is what I’m gonna do’.

“You know where she is right now?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah. We’re gonna meet up at this funfair in town.”

“Then go. Right now.”

He was about to argue that it was Benny’s wedding and that he didn’t wanna bail, but then he remembered that those were actually your words, not his own. What Frankie himself wanted was just to see you. He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed firmly in thanks for his understanding, and then got up and left, not pausing to say goodbye to anyone, and especially not Pope or Will, since that would only pique their interest.

It was a short drive back into town, and he opted not to text you just yet, waiting to see if he could find and surprise you instead. It had been around 3pm when you’d been at the boardwalk, but that was three hours ago now, so odds were good that you’d moved on, maybe gone back to the fair for something more to eat. Once he stepped out of the car, it was easy to tell where the thing was, because an endless stream of people of all ages were heading in, or coming from, the same direction.

He fell into the crowd, following their general direction past narrow cobblestone streets through the oldest section of the city, before reaching a huge open square that continued into a park. The square was absolutely filled with carousels and market stands and street vendors, and the rich smells of all the food stands littered around the place, mixed with churros, cotton candy, ice-cream, donuts and lots more, assaulted his senses in all the best ways.

He figured that the likelihood of finding you among all this, admittedly more than twice as big as he’d imagined it would be, would be next to impossible unless he first contacted you. But just as he reached for his phone, his eyes swept past the nearest donut-vendor, and there you were, not fifteen feet from him. That had to be a good sign. Like maybe this was supposed to happen. He walked over there, reaching you just as you’d paid for your snack.

You turned to the side, your eyes on the warm, freshly made treat in your hand, as you took the first bite and closed your eyes for a moment, in pure bliss at the delectable taste. Fucking hell, you were beautiful. He had to stop himself from reaching for your face and licking off the tiny grains of sugar that had stuck to your lips.

Instead, he let his gaze drop to the ground for a second, so he could take a breath, only to be enticed even further by the realization that you’d gotten changed. You were wearing a lemon-coloured summer-dress that perfectly accentuated your skin-tone. And your curves. He did take that breath, suddenly feeling lightheaded and loving that he was still able to get weak in the knees simply by being attracted to someone. Softly, he cleared his throat, the sound effectively drowned out by the bustle of the street, as he stepped closer, trying to quell the hopeful fizzle that was bubbling through his chest.

*-----*-----*-----*-----*

“Hi, Zoe.”

You’d just stuffed your face with a big bite of donut when you heard the deep timbre of his voice just off your left shoulder, and instinctively turned towards the sound of your name. He took you completely by surprise. It was only a bit after 6pm, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until maybe nine or ten at the earliest, which was the reason for your stuffed face. You’d wanted to keep from eating anything too filling until he got there, since you’d hoped that he’d wanna explore the myriad of food-stands with you.

“Oh… hi. ‘orry…”

There was too much donut in your mouth for you to be able to speak properly, which put a huge smile on his face.

“That looks delicious. Go ahead and finish, I’m not in any hurry.”

You finished the bite but threw the rest of the treat away, no longer feeling the need to satiate your hunger with something so inadequate.

“I thought I told you to honour your friend’s big day. What happened?”

“I told him about you.”

He paused there, still grinning like a kid that had just won a prize, letting you absorb that before he added:

“And just like I said – he more or less made me leave to come and find you.”

“You… I-… What did you tell him, exactly?”

A hint of uncertainty snuck into the corners of his eyes, but his words weren’t tinted by insecurity. All you heard in his voice was hope.

“He could see that something was on my mind, so I told him about meeting this beautiful woman at the hotel, even fessing up to you helping me with the speech, and he all but shoved me out of my chair.”

You couldn’t stop the heat that rushed to your cheeks at that, not that it mattered much because blushes weren’t particularly visible on you. Still, it affected you because of how much he was really saying, be it intentional or not. If you’d suspected it before, you were now certain that Frankie was seriously interested in you, and there was no denying that you already felt the same. However, you had no idea where he lived, and he had no idea where you were from, and even though you were looking for ways to change your life, this wasn’t exactly what you’d imagined.

This was all very complicated. But also… you simply just liked this guy.

“Beautiful, huh?”

He was in a nice dark grey suit, three-piece with a vest in silvery silk, and a white flower arrangement in the breast-pocket. Clearly not something he would ordinarily spend on himself, if you’d interpreted his character correctly, but his friend had obviously picked the attire of his groomsmen with a sharp eye for what suited them.

“Very. I spotted you even in this crowd, so you better believe you look amazing.”

You smiled at that, stepping closer to him and needlessly fiddling with the flowers on his chest, a mere excuse to touch the soft fabric of his suit coat, and get a better sense of his perfume.

“So do you, sir. Very dapper.”

He chuckled, but with a layer of nervousness to it (whether because of your closeness or because he disagreed, you couldn’t tell), and then playfully ruffled his own hair.

“If only I knew how to wrangle this mess…”

Then, before you’d had a chance to reach up and ruffle his hair yourself, which you dearly wanted to do, he grabbed the flowers from his pocket and used the pin that held them in place in there, to attach it to your hair instead, just behind your ear. He smiled warmly at the result, but then quickly left the topic of looks.

“So, I’m assuming you’re hungry?”

“Oh, yeah, I was gonna wait to eat until you got here. It seemed more fun than eating alone, even if you’d turned up stuffed and I’d end up the only one actually eating.”

“I didn’t, and all these smells would’ve kept me craving regardless. But you also mentioned carousels, and if memory serves, they’re not that fun when your stomach’s full.”

“You weren’t kidding about being game to try some with me? Cause I really love a good thrilling ride.”

“Nothing too spin-y, I’m in.”

“Good, I’m not a fan of too much spinning either, so maybe not the Waltzer, but I do love Break Dance.”

“The one with the space-cars?”

“That’s the one.”

He smiled from ear to ear.

“It’s been my favourite for over twenty years.”

You almost squealed in delight, grabbing his hand and leading the way through the crowd, even running whenever there was room, out of pure excitement. Not just to go on the ride, but to have miraculously found someone that loved it as much as you did. How was this even happening? You’d just tried to run away from your family, you hadn’t even been looking to make new friends, and now you’d stumbled on what very well could be the man of your dreams.

There was a bit of a que for the ride, but the wait only served to increase your enthusiasm, you and Frankie sharing shouted comments in each other’s ears, over the thumping disco music, trying to tell each other what you most liked about the carousel. And the fact that the loud noise gave you each an excuse to lean thoroughly into the other, wasn’t bothering either of you. In fact, you both took full advantage of it, letting your hands find purchase on shoulders and arms to keep track of one another’s movements. Once seated, the thing had only just started moving when his arm came around your waist to steady you against his side and make sure you wouldn’t be hurled against the door of the car.

You didn’t mind one bit.

Another three rides on different carousels later, and he was suddenly feeling entirely comfortable keeping an arm around your back, waist or shoulders all the time, and you didn’t mind that either. Your own arm was doing the same to him, especially after he took off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, giving you better access to his waist. And it all felt so easy. Like you’d known each other for years, hopping from one topic to the next without pause or confusion, recognizing so much of your own behaviour in the other, and being able to laugh about it.

You tried out food from half a dozen different stands and vendors, all of which was good, and then moving on to desserts, learning that you both had a bit of a sweet tooth. At that point, you’d gotten into the games, taking turns trying to show off on the different skillsets, from popping balloons with darts, to throwing baseballs at cans, to the Planet Hollywood cranes, to the big fortune wheel lotteries. Frankie was actually really good with the darts, winning a large teddy bear which he handed to you with a wide grin.

“For you, milady. I have won this prize in the name of your honour.”

You took the bear, which was actually really soft and cute, not at all the cheap crap you’d expected, but still shot a deliberate sideways glance over pursed lips at your date.

“Well now, don’t think this earns you any favours with regards to my loins, good sir.”

He didn’t even bat an eye, only grinning wider and shaking his head at you.

“A common man like me wouldn’t dare dream of such treasures.”

For some reason you felt like he was being very honest with that response, not carrying on the jesting tone that you’d used, and instead perhaps almost by accident, revealing that he truly didn’t believe himself a candidate to your pleasures, much less your heart. It was true that you did ordinarily guard yourself very closely against those kinds of intrusions, but you hadn’t even tried to do that with him. You’d practically rolled out a red carpet for him.

Not that he could’ve known that; he’d only spent a few hours with you thus far. So, how to tell him that he most assuredly had a shot at your treasures, without making it sound cheap or crass? You took his hand again, making sure he met your eyes before you spoke, and there was no longer any trace of jest in your voice.

“That’s a shame. Because I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone more deserving. Of good dreams, or wonderful treasures.”

Something vulnerable and sweet found its way into his eyes in the moment that he managed to keep looking at you, before his head dipped and his right hand came up to scratch at his neck and jawline. He was clearly uncomfortable, and you didn’t wanna push him since this was apparently hard for him, so you just pulled your right hand out of his left one, letting it come to rest around the neck of the toy in your arms instead.

You wondered what had happened to him in his life to make him think so little of himself, where romance was concerned, at least. But this was hardly the time or place to ask. But then, he surprised you. At the loss of your touch his head came back up, and for a brief second, he seemed unsure, before he suddenly stepped closer and pushed the teddy bear to the side, claiming your personal space and lowering his head until his face was a mere breath away from yours.

Your heart leapt into a sprint, abruptly surrounded by his frame, his scent, his piercing brown orbs, turned into hot liquid with the passion that now flowed from him, unrestrained. Big strong arms snaked around your waist, tugging your body closer, but he kept his face at the exact same distance from yours, asking you to make the choice for him. To tell him if he was wanted, if he was permitted, if he was… enough.

You closed the distance slowly, savouring the excitement and hope that kindled within him at the small gesture. He remained steadfast, determined to wait for you to reach him, even though you could see how desperate he was to connect, to taste you and know you in that intimate way that physical closeness could make so clear, when it was a good pairing.

You knew exactly how he was feeling, because you’d been the one doing these things for most of your life, and it was somehow freeing that you got to be the more confident one this time. That you could see the reflection of yourself in his actions, allowing you to know exactly what he needed from you. All you had to do was decide if you wanted the same things.

When your lips finally touched, a brief first contact, careful and soft, he seemed to melt into your frame, as though he suddenly felt permitted to give himself to you. And before you knew what had hit you, a rush of confidence had him glued to you, from your lips to your toes. He kissed you as though he hadn’t known the feeling for decades, craving and savouring and begging for more all at once, leaving you staggering in his tight grip, barely able to keep up with the whirlwind of emotions that were whipping around inside you.

But you loved every second of it, and even through your surprised reaction, he could tell, and thankfully didn’t pull back or get uncertain. He continued to shower you in his passion as your body tingled, heated, crawled with want, and you did your best to not try and manage, edit or filter your responses, to let him feel what he was doing to you, in all its raw beauty. It was harder than it should’ve been, to just let yourself react, but you’d spent your entire life only ever showing what you’d been made to believe was acceptable. Always holding back, so as not to bother anyone, always putting your own feelings last.

But not this time.

When you eventually pulled apart, it felt like breaching the surface after a deep dive underwater. Not just in the sense that you were out of breath, but the noise of the fair suddenly hit your ears as though they’d been covered, and the breeze flowing gently over your skin seemed unfamiliar until that moment.

Your eyes met, equals in their brightness and zest, but neither of you spoke. There didn’t seem to be any words, but even if there were… what could you say? Where was this going? There were so many things that had the potential to pull you apart, and you felt as though voicing them would somehow make them come crashing down on top of you, forcing you to leave and never see this wonderful person again.

Frankie took your hand, stepping away from you, but pulling you along, heading out of the fair. He walked fast, throwing nervous glances at you every few steps and you were certain that your responding ones were just as unsure, but not because of fear of anything that might be happening now. Your only fear concerned the future. The next step.

He brought you to his car and you stepped in without hesitation, neither surprised nor disappointed when the short drive ended back at the hotel from that morning. You got out before he had a chance to second guess anything, taking his arm as soon as he joined you, crossing the street and stepping through the revolving doors, nodding politely at the receptionist before taking the elevator to the floor where his room was.

It was small and simple, but lightly coloured and setting a pleasant ambience, which was all you managed to discern about it before Frankie stole your focus for himself. Still without a single word spoken between you, each of you begged each other that this would last. That this wasn’t a goodbye, but a promise. Just like your birthdays always did, this day and night seemed endless and much too short, all at once, and when you finally fell asleep in the small hours of the morning, it still didn’t feel like it could ever be enough.

*-----*-----*-----*-----*

Waking up beside you the next morning was the best that he’d felt in years.

Cassandra had spent the majority of their last year living together, more or less constantly angry with him, no matter what he did, so there hadn’t been much in the way of physical contact between them. Not even hugs, or the odd brush of fingertips now and then. He’d spent most of that time feeling like an infectious disease or a parasite, that she was trying to get rid of. And in that regard, finally getting thrown out had been something of a relief, because he never would’ve made that decision for himself.

Fear or misplaced devotion would’ve kept him at her side regardless of how bad it had gotten, and a part of him was grateful that she’d had the strength to say ‘enough’. Not to say that it hadn’t been rough. He’d been a wreck for a long time after that, constantly worrying about the kids and what Cassie would do about the legal side of things. It had taken another year before he’d eventually gotten those answers, and breathed a giant sigh of relief that his careful strategy of giving her space without abandoning the kids or making them think he didn’t care about them anymore, had paid off.

She hadn’t pursued any legal actions against him, opting to talk to him instead, and together they’d come up with a system for splitting time with the kids, which even though there had been some hurdles along the way, was still working pretty well, three years later.

And now there was you. The first person he’d dared to bring into this complicated situation, even though he knew that the odds were stacked high against the two of you working out. What little he’d managed to suss out about you, or more accurately, dared to ask, had led him to understand that you lived far from here, had a troublesome relationship with your family, felt strangled by your job, and that you were looking for a change.

Laying there, spooned up tightly to you, watching the absolute relaxation in your frame and feeling the weight of your body against his, with the heaviness of sleep, he so desperately wanted to be that change. Not just because he’d missed waking up next to someone, getting to touch a warm body when he needed or wanted to, knowing he was welcome, but also because he wanted to know everything about you.

What made you smile? What made you laugh so hard that you cried? What made you cry? And why? What were you afraid of - not just phobias and those kinds of big things, but the little things, the gnawing rats inside your brain that could keep you awake at night? What did you dream about? What did you want for your future? What kind of change were you hoping for? And what would you be willing to try, to find it?

He kissed the base of your neck, over and over, trying to wake you even though you’d only slept for about four hours thus far, because he was suddenly reminded of just how limited his time with you might be. Despite sleeping deeply, you stirred after a mere few seconds, perhaps because you too were unaccustomed to nightly company, and as your body slowly came alive you began to stretch and curl your limbs, while a raspy little purr escaped you.

“Mornin’ beautiful.”

“Hey, handsome.”

Shit. He knew he was in trouble when even your hoarse and slurry morning voice was doing things to his chest.

“Feeling okay?”

“Mhm. I owe you now.”

“What on Earth for?”

You sighed happily, letting your feet lightly wrestle with his where they’d snuck outside the covers when it had gotten too warm.

“For the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

He stilled as he absorbed that, because it made so many little details about you fall into place. And then he felt sad for you, because if even your birthday was something you didn’t feel allowed to celebrate, and had opted to try and run away from instead, then your family situation was worse than he’d imagined. You must’ve felt so alone.

“Belated Happy Birthday, Zoe.”

“Thank you. It was perfect.”

“Anytime, angel.”

That was a big promise to make, given your circumstances, but he wanted you to know that he was willing to make those commitments, even though he was really nervous that just saying that out loud would scare you away.

“Yeah? So, you had a good time too?”

This was the moment. The one when he could decide to exist in the present, telling you only how good he felt with you. Or confess how truly terrified he was becoming, at the mere thought of leaving this hotel room and never seeing you again.

“Zoe… tell me……… tell me what I have to do to keep you?”

He felt something pass through the entire length of your body, and for two seconds you were unnaturally still, making him worry that he’d scared you. But then you shifted, turning around to face him, and there was light in your eyes and a smile in your cheeks that for some reason you seemed to be holding back, even though it looked like you’d come to a decision about something.

“Just ask.”

Oh, he wanted to. More than almost anything.

“But, what about…? I mean, you obviously don’t live here, and neither do I. What about your family? And mine… shit, I told you I’ve got kids, right?”

“Frankie, breathe. I’ve got three weeks until I need to be back at work, and my family obviously doesn’t miss me, since my phone still hasn’t made a sound other than your messages. We have some time to figure this out, whatever this is, so for now, how about we just go where the day takes us? Like, breakfast, for example.”

He liked that. He liked that you could see the inside of his head well enough to know that he was overthinking all of this. The two of you were still way too fresh to even begin making commitments and plans and declarations, even though he really fucking wanted to. Casual and simple, see where it leads. He could do that.

“Are you that kinda girl that’s always hungry?”

“Pretty much, but especially when a certain someone’s been draining my reserves all night.”

“Hah, well, I didn’t hear any complaints. Plenty of moans, though…”

He shifted his head closer to yours, intent on stealing a few kisses, but you beat him to it. And not only that, but your lips were followed by your whole body rolling on top of his, wasting no time in letting him know what you were after. It was somehow even better in the daylight, watching your body move on top of him while the sun turned your skin golden, letting him see the play of every straining muscle as you used him for your pleasure.

And he absolutely loved that you did. He loved everything about you.

Yep. He was in so much trouble.

-----

He walked into the breakfast restaurant holding your hand, but instinctively tugged you back when a minor roar sounded shortly after your entry, closely followed by a group of people rising from their seats and coming towards you.

Shit, shit, shit!! How had he somehow forgotten that most of the wedding party was staying here too?

Santi and Will were both howling and smiling suggestively, pointing from him to you and back again as they made their way over, while Benny met his eyes with an apologetic shrug, although smiling just as big. Frankie cringed, unsure of how you’d take this, just as William winked at him.

“I knew you were up to something, sneaking off like that. Come on, you didn’t really think you were gonna hide something like this from us, did you?”

They’d obviously seen or heard about him leaving early and probably pestered Benny about it until he’d told them what he knew. He shouldn’t be surprised, really, and he mostly wasn’t. Annoyed, though.

“I wasn’t thinking about you, at all, Will.”

All three of them sobered up at that, because Frankie wasn’t usually the one to make those kinds of sharp remarks, unless he was dead serious and thoroughly unamused. Benny was the first to recover, taking a step closer and politely holding a hand out to you.

“Hey, I’m Ben. I’m sorry about the ruckus, it’s just been a while since we saw our boy here excited like this, and we’re really glad to see it.”

You shook his hand but before you could respond, Will jumped in.

“Yeah, sorry. We didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, we’re just hungover and stupid. I’m Will, by the way.”

Another handshake, but again, before you’d had a chance to say anything, Santi cut in.

“Truly, our sincerest apologies. I’m Santiago, and if you want us to steer clear, just say the word.”

Frankie was about to spit out that you’d be hard pressed to get a single fucking word in, the way they were behaving. But you beat him to the punch, once more.

“Wow… If you hadn’t been so busy falling over each other to make sure I won’t run away in terror, I would’ve seriously contemplated kicking all your asses.”

He held back a smile as the men suddenly looked very sheepish and he was quite impressed with how much power you were radiating around you, making three beefy and highly trained military operatives cower. It unbiddenly made his mind jump to ‘that’s mom-material, right there’ and he had to sternly remind himself that it was too soon to think like that. But then you smiled and giggled, releasing all the tension of the situation in a single heartbeat, making him stare at you in awe as he realized that it was all an act.

“I’m not that stuck-up, guys, although I will seriously make your butts hurt if you mess with my man. Other than that, I’m Zoe and I’m happy to meet all of you.”

Frankie tried not to puff up too much hearing you call him yours, but damn it felt good. The boys laughed with you, and you shooed them away to their table, promising that you’d join them once you’d gotten your food, but he barely even noticed any of it. He just saw the smile in your eyes. The ease with which you were beginning to fit into his life. The difference between the careful and guarded person that had sat down at his table a little more than 24 hours ago, to the calm and certain and comfortable woman choosing to be at his side right now.

You handed him a plate as if it was a practiced and familiar movement, as if you’d done this hundreds of times before, and he wanted it to be true. He wanted every one of those hundreds of times to happen.

“Babe…”

He hadn’t called you that before, but you reacted as if it was entirely familiar, and that was the only confirmation he needed that he wasn’t about to make a huge mistake.

“I know we said not to look ahead yet, but I can’t help it. I want you to stay. I want you to come home with me and I want you to stay. I-It doesn’t mean that you have to, but I want you to know… that’s how I feel right now.”

Your eyes remained bright and happy as you listened, turning only warmer when he’d finished, at which point you stepped closer and whispered:

“Thank you. I’d like that, but perhaps we should table this conversation until we’re not in a public space anymore?”

Oh…

He looked around, at first befuddled by the sudden reappearance of all the guests that had somehow disappeared from his senses, and then embarrassed by the thought that many of them might’ve heard his little confession. But then you kissed him, once, short, sweet, and he forgot all about it.

The rest of the breakfast was actually really nice, since the boys all behaved themselves now and took a genuine interest in you, asking relevant and intelligent questions, and listening to your answers. And what was even more wonderful, was that you seemed to warm to them with each passing minute, until all five of you were joking and laughing together, any trace of discomfort blown away by your willingness to let this odd little family grow on you.

‘I’d like that.’

You’d said that about coming home with him. Those words sang their own little song inside his head, refusing to be quieted no matter how loud the conversation got.

You wanted that. You were coming home with him. If not now, then in the future. And that was enough.

–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–

Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day, lovely people!

@tacticalsparkles @tanzthompson @marydjarin @idreamofboobear @annathewitch @agingerindenial @tiffanyleen @winter-fox-queen @elegantduckturtle @lovefreylove @shadowolf993 @callsigncatfish @hounding-around @cannedsoupsucks @startrekkingaroundasgard @thisshipwillsail316 @ellie-darling @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @nakhudanyx @dihra-vesa @tobealostwanderer @ophelialoveshandsomemen @andiesturgss @deadhumourist @spideysimpossiblegirl @pedrostories @toomanystoriessolittletime @tintinn16 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @nolanell @bison-writes @dornish-queen @shsoba05 @myfavpedrothings

#sirowsky's birthday celebration #happy birthday to me #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x female reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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hirocimacruiser · 1 year

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Japanese Complete

Tommy kaira M20 & M30

Photos / Tatsuo Sakurai Text / Hitoshi Sezai

It greatly raises the potential of the commercial model and pursues the fun of driving. Moreover, it is not a so-called “illegal modification”, but a complete car that proudly passes the vehicle inspection. Such cars, which are commonplace in Europe, also exist in Japan. Tommykaira M20&30. It is extremely significant.

What is a sports car?

It's not that expensive is good, but there is nothing that money-rich Japan cannot afford. Cars are no exception, and Japanese are big customers for foreign car manufacturers. Even a domestic car costs 8 million yen NSX is flooded with reservations, sports cars

It is no longer a dream or aspiration.

At this point, the market is already saturated, and the overflowing desire is just a world of addiction. There is no such thing as high or bad quality when it comes to Japanese cars. In this situation, it is likely that a seller's market will emerge, or the idea that "the higher the price, the better." I think the time has come to develop a discerning eye on the buyer side.

So, what I think is to say let's reconsider the sports car that was made seriously. All of the Japanese cars so far have been too well received by millions of people. Sports cars are no exception. Even the NSX has the characteristic that it can be used as a geta, and the first midship up until now was just a FF unit loaded on the back. With this, there is no way you can feel like a fan on the mountain pass.

Users who are not satisfied with their desires will naturally run towards making their own ideal cars. “Tuning” may be synonymous with sports cars for racers. However, even if it is a numb word for a racer, the reality is that it has not gained citizenship in the general public. Then, if you have a family and reason For those who think, the sports car becomes a green distant existence again. That's why I think he's clearing his mind by driving real sports cars and enthusiasts that are extraordinarily expensive. However, that would be like an old man at an agricultural cooperative who buys things duty-free for 30 years. I want you to be even more proud of your commitment to sports cars. We want you to be proud to drive a sports car, a Japanese sports car.

Two Tommykaira with a clear and accurate division have already been around for three years

I'm starting to build a Japanese sports car. As if to ridicule the overly weak maker system, the famous tuner Kikuo Kera aspired to create a true sports car based on Mr. Tomita's production. Then 90 years. Along with the model change of the base vehicle, the first generation M30 switched to the second generation. The M30, which has been further refined, has the personality and potential of a backyard builder, and has further improved its appeal.

As a pioneer of the "complete car", the finish is truly impressive. The unique appearance is more powerful than GT-R's blisters and large front and rear spoilers. Moreover, the M30 is recognized as an official model because it has gone through proper procedures as a backyard builder. In other words, although Tommykaira is small, it is recognized as a manufacturer, and a small amount of sports cars are produced and sold from there. A complete car is no longer a tuning car

Different, it is a fine category that represents Japanese sports cars. That's why the commitment to running is also noisy. Seeking good handling unique to FR, the base vehicle is 2L GTS-T Type M. And the engine is the RB26DETT with a scale of 2. Then, in pursuit of the goodness of the pickup unique to NA, it was converted to a non-turbo engine and then scaled up.

The heart is hot enough for the M30, which is extremely luxurious. The non-turbo RB26 exerts a large amount of torque unique to a large-displacement vehicle, and shakes its tightly packed body. Once the throttle is opened, the pleasant sound of the engine reverberates throughout the body, which has no play at all, and high-frequency vibrations are transmitted. The feeling of becoming one with the body every time you race is more than GT-R, and you can feel the excitement of a racing car. Due to the heavy weight of the engine, it was a bit front heavy on winding roads, but even so, the tail started to flow easily and it showed a powerful drift scene by making use of the large torque. The operation system and footwork are very direct, and you will not be bothered by this large body.

don't let

It's rude to call it a younger brother, but the M20 with a 2-liter turbo RB20DET has a much milder impression than the hard image of the M30. Starting with the weight of the engine, the suspension that matches the light weight of the vehicle has a softer touch than expected, and the roll speed is faster. Therefore, the attitude of the car can be changed easily, and anyone can enjoy sport-like driving. Although the feeling of torque is inferior to that of the M30, the engine with good elongation gets more lively the more you rev it.

High output type. For a user whose duty is to always run at full throttle, this is an unexpected pleasure.

Comparing the two cars, even though they have the same FR, they have distinctly different personalities, and the M30 is completely European-oriented. After endlessly pursuing the goodness of the base, it is both hard and practical. The M20 is very Japanese, and its appeal is that it is easy to handle and appeals to everyone. It is, so to speak, an introduction to complete cars.

Tommykaira's techniques and aspirations, which make use of the individuality that can be said to be the charm of a sports car, are undoubtedly full of the spirit of a coachbuilder representing Japan. After that, how to cultivate the user's eye, and how to notice the existence of a true sports car. It depends on the uncle of the agricultural cooperative.

#Tommykaira #Tommy kaira #Tommykaira M30 #Tommykaira M20 #R32 Skyline #JDM

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photog-crafty · 1 year

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One of a very select few hardtop convertibles in the game, the Carbonizzare was an extremely comfy daily driver. It really made me miss that short-lived glitch that allowed you to freeze-frame emotes in cars, throwing your hands up in the air like a good game of OutRun.

It took me a long time to truly appreciate the 9F Cabrio. I owned one very early on and sold it, not knowing much about it besides the novelty of it having a nonexistent model for its engine, but later in life I came to appreciate the first-generation real-life R8 and gave it another shot in my quest for more convertibles, and only then did it reveal its secrets to me. Quick acceleration, a charming engine note, and snappy handling with AWD as a safety net made it a joy to drive and a staple of my daily rotation for months.

The Surano was my first entry into small two-seater sports convertibles. I really wanted to try a soft top, but having unusable back seats bugged the hell out of me at the time, so the Surano fit the bill. It did its job well, but I eventually moved on to bigger and better cars.

I'm not much of a Bimmer guy, but my love for comfy two-door cars brought me to the wheel of a Zion Cabrio very late in my tenure. It didn't really "wow" me in any way, but at the same time, that was exactly what I was asking of it, and it delivered.

Now this majestic beast has some history. The Windsor Drop was one of my favorite cars from beginning to end. Being a four-door convertible made it tons of fun to bring friends, and I use that metaphor specifically because that's how it felt to drive. It was a huge luxury car that actually handled like a true land barge, with a bold but understated growl and handling that insisted you make reservations, yet never leaving you wanting for speed or power. This car really was the life of the party.

Did it bother anyone else that we got so many different flavors of Mustang, yet not one of them was a Fox? At least I was able to cope with a Mach 1 in the form of the Dominator GTT. This thing was a boomer cruiser through and through that I felt right at home bringing to missions with all the kids in their flashy import boxes.

In another universe, I feel like I would have fallen in love with the Deviant. It's got all the ingredients of a badass muscle car, and I'm not averse to restomods, but by the time it was released, my heart already belonged to other vehicles. If it had been released earlier, or starred in another game, we would have made beautiful music together.

The Duke O'Death is another old car that was catapulted to relevance when the Age of Missile Spam began. At first it was a niche vehicle exclusive to players who had started on PS360, but it was eventually made free for all players, and its explosive resistance was a lifesaver once everybody and their brother had homing missiles in their back pocket. It also helped that the Duke was extremely heavy and bullied its way through traffic easily, making it less susceptible to getting sideswiped by errant NPCs. It was a genuinely cool and balanced car that harkens back to a time when the game's vehicles were made with a little more care.

My best friend drove a Sabre Turbo Custom religiously, so when the F1 wheel glitches started appearing, I thought it was high time I got one of my own. This one in particular has a unique crew color on a velvety worn paint finish, which was grandfathered from an NPC-modified Sabre Turbo that rarely spawned with unobtainable paint. It proved to be great fun to go cruising together, and the lowrider hydraulics worked in tandem with the taller tires by allowing the car to tilt forward for a dragster look.

It may have been easy to mistake this for just another muscle car, but this was actually a Future Shock Imperator with all the trappings of an Arena War vehicle. Its immense power gave it high speed and terrible handling on paper, but well-timed use of shunt boost made it able to take 90-degree turns at full speed and make long jumps over hazards. Arena vehicles were some of my favorite cars to drive because they almost turned the game into a platformer with how differently they encouraged you to see the game world.

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tuesday7econlive · 1 month

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The Rise and Fall of the Golden Era of Japanese Sports Cars

Name: Manav Anand

Student ID: 55378875

I love cars. Particularly Japanese sports cars from the late 80’s and early 90’s. As I learned more and more about economics, I began to learn how heavily the economy was responsible for the rise and fall of the sports cars I love so much. Here I will describe the economic events which had a cascading effect on the Japanese car industry from the early ‘70s to late ‘90s, and car culture today. The story begins with underdog Japanese automakers competing against the oligopoly of the "Big 3" American car companies and dominating in the midst of a global gas crisis. Flush with cash, alongside a strong domestic economy, Japanese carmakers poured their heart and soul into engineering exciting sports cars and insane race cars, pioneering new technology and facing off against European racing legends. Finally, a decline in the Japanese economy and changes in import law led automakers to end sports car development, marking the end of a “golden era” of Japanese sports cars.

Part 1: Oil crisis

The 1973 oil crisis was caused by the total embargo of oil to the United States (among other countries) which caused significantly higher gas prices and gasoline shortages. Due to a price ceiling on oil imposed in 1971, it was more profitable to import cheap oil to secure a larger profit. Subsequently, By 1972, more than 80% of the oil in the United States was imported, leading to a devastating reduction in supply when the embargo came. The quantity sold became extremely low, and the equilibrium price of gasoline shot up. A second oil crisis (different cause, similar effect) also happened in 1979, and famous pictures from this time show how severe gas shortages had become throughout the late 70s.

These repeated gas crises caused a demand for more fuel efficient cars, and small, efficient Japanese imports were the solution to the demand. Combined with a better perception of the quality of Japanese vehicles, the efficient, practical imports had begun to dominate the existing oligopoly of “Big Three” American car manufacturers Ford, Chrysler and GM. The Big 3 struggled to match the quality and efficiency of Japanese cars, and spent the next few years playing catch-up to win back their share in the overall US car market. These firms were engaged in monopolistic competition, and Japanese firms had entered and began securing short-run profits. The Big 3 companies had actually set up their financial downturn, as they had spent their money on marketing and production of big cars while ignoring the market's desire for compact cars. The Japanese automakers focused on what the market wanted, making cars which provided maximum utility to US consumers. Comparing car advertisements from the 1970s clearly shows this ideology difference. The American companies inability to satisfy the demands of US consumers led to them being outsold by firms that could, showing how even massive corporations must abide by economic fundamentals, or face massive failure.

As if there weren’t enough things going well for the Japanese in the ‘70s and ‘80s, the dollar-to-yen ratio allowed the Japanese imports to be profitably sold at much lower prices than Domestic vehicles, further increasing the competitiveness of Japanese Imports in America. Even the Japanese government played a hand, identifying how critical the automobile industry was to the economy, and taking measures to financially support its growth. The extreme success of the 70’s, along with a booming Japanese economy due to smart governmental decisions, leads us to the golden era of Japanese sports cars.

Part 2: The Golden Era

Flush with cash, consumer demand for luxury goods in Japan skyrocketed, and automakers were happy to spend their extra money on expensive R&D for sports cars, leading to the introduction of turbochargers for increased power, electronically adjustable suspension, Adjustable aerodynamics and more. It is often said that the easiest way to make a small fortune in racing, is to start with a large fortune. It is also often said "Win on Sunday, Sell on Monday" Referring to how even if automakers lost money by racing, racing success would be powerful marketing for the firm. We can see in the RX-7 advertisement how directly Mazda used their racing pedigree to market their vehicles. Racing is expensive, and Japanese automakers had the resources to race in the big leagues. Japanese automakers succeeded in the racing world, with not just good performances, but dominating ones.

The Calsonic Nissan R32 Skyline, entered in the Australian Touring Car Championship won every race it was entered in for 3 seasons. Its performance was so unbelievable, it permanently earned the Skyline GTR the nickname “Godzilla”. Consumers could purchase street-going versions of these cars, and enjoy the racing technology for themselves. The all wheel drive system was so advanced for its time, that even today, car enthusiasts continue to modify and use this system in their custom, high performance vehicles.

Honda had devoted its resources towards Formula 1, and from the years of 1987-1991, won 5 consecutive constructor and driver’s championships alongside the Mclaren and Williams Racing Teams. Developing just one Formula one race engine costs extraordinary amounts of money. Interviews with Nigel Mansell, who drove Honda-powered Williams cars from 1985 to 1987, revealed that Honda were making and developing 4 to 6 totally different engines in a single season during this time.

Outside of racing, Honda was developing the Honda NSX (Also known as the Acura NSX, as the NSX was used to launch the Acura Brand). The Honda NSX was a mid engined sports car intended to compete against automakers like Ferrari and Lamborghini. The desire for a lightweight chassis led to the development of the aluminum chassis, which paved the path for aluminum manufacturing in automobiles for years to come. The famous racing driver Ayrton Senna, who was driving for McLaren/Honda in F1 at this time, was consulted for input on the handling and chassis.

Until the NSX, consumers were forced to put up with temperamental Italian exotics if they wanted a super car; They were hot, noisy, and cramped, with a plethora of mechanical issues and oversights. The Honda NSX, in contrast, was reliable, comfortable, and practical. The Honda NSX was a newcomer to the supercar scene, and completely shifted the market; If Honda could do it, why didn't all the other manufacturers do it? The Honda NSX went on to sell well, and gain celebrity status, being regarded as one of the greatest sports cars to ever exist due to its practicality combined with amazing handling. Even as the NSX aged, its accomplishments were so great, that It stood as the benchmark for another one of the greatest sports cars to ever be made. The Mclaren F1 was the first "hyper car", a car that truly had no limits or constraints, other than to be the very best. It held the automoblie top speed record for 24 years. Its designer, Gordan Murray said: "The moment I drove the 'little' NSX, all the benchmark cars–Ferrari, Porsche, Lamborghini–I had been using as references in the development of my car vanished from my mind,"

Mazda had been competing in endurance racing, slowly trying to win Le Mans in a car powered by their signature Wankel Rotary Engine. In 1991, the team drivers were told to drive all-out, forgoing the usual conservative racing strategy employed by teams to ensure that the cars would survive to cross the finish line after 24 hours of racing. The car’s superior fuel efficiency meant the car could stop for fuel less often over the course of the race, and the superior reliability of the engine displayed in earlier racing meant that drivers could push the engine to its limits. The engine was so reliable, that after winning the race, covering 3,000 miles at an average speed of 128 mph, Mazda engineers said that the engine was in condition to complete another race with nothing more than an oil change. The money spent on R&D during this time allowed for innovation of technologies in the harshest conditions an automobile could be subject to, and these technologies would slowly be developed into the technology we have today.

Part 3: Where Did it All go?

The golden era of sports cars, fueled by the success of efficient, practical and reliable Japanese cars would have to come to an end eventually. Economic conditions began to decline in Japan, meaning that cars had to be sold at much higher prices abroad for profits to be made. Domestically in Japan, consumers did not have expendable income to spend on sports cars. The increase in the price of imports led to a decline in the units sold overseas, and changes to import law made this decline even more severe. Automakers would have to spend additional resources to comply with different US safety and emissions standards. Automotive manufacturers finished development of one final generation of sports cars in the late 90’s, and took their focus away from sports car development.

Although the era is now long in the past, the cultural influence of these cars is undeniable. The children who grew up watching Fast and Furious are finally old enough to buy the sports cars they saw on the big screen. Automakers are now once again developing fun, sports cars, but for many people, they simply do not scratch the same itch. New cars cannot replicate the analogue feeling, as modern technology trades driving experience for electronic convenience. Gone are the days where a teenager could work part time and buy a new sports car for themselves, and instead younger generations are scooping up old Japanese cars instead. Despite 30+ years of advancement, many car enthusiasts consider modern sports cars as inferior to the classics, and demand has skyrocketed accordingly. Legendary sports cars such as the Nissan Z, Mazda Miata, Toyota Supra, Honda Civic Type R and Acura Integra have all made a comeback with new, modern interpretations of the sports car formula, but are still often overshadowed by their older counterparts at car meets and shows. The famous 25-year import rule means that the dwindling supply of cars domestically cannot be replenished with cars from abroad.

The economic forces which guide the capitalistic world we live in are strong and relentless. While countless firms have collapsed into financial ruin, Japanese auto firms made a series of extremely wise economic decisions which allowed them to experience massive growth and the ability to show the world what they were capable of. Japanese automakers didn’t simply succeed as firms in this time period, they established themselves as a force to be reckoned with. They took on almost every other auto manufacturer across all types of vehicles, and showed them that they had fallen complacent in creating products that consumers actually demanded. Their achievements and design still stand strong today, delivering experiences yet to be replicated.

Sources Used:

https://www.roadandtrack.com/car-culture/a28632/acura-nsx-mclaren-f1-gordon-murray/

https://scholarworks.uni.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1030&context=draftings

https://www.wardsauto.com/news-analysis/energy-crisis-aided-japanese-imports

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