#cell splicing

[retrogamer2099]

Retro_G is back with another art cover! This is "Beast Wrestler" for the Sega Genesis. The game was a great concept and is pretty challenging despite it's flaws. Like comment and subscribe! THX.

[blabberoo]

Driftcells animatic :)

[redbean-nom]

Designs for adult versions of the clone cadets in bad batch as Rebellion leaders

The first weird thing I noticed was that they kept specifying that tbb are "defective CTs", whereas iirc most other clones leave out the "ct" part. additionally, "special training" must have been a reasonably expected occurrence for them, since it was used as the Hemlock-jungle-lab excuse. they're also, oddly enough, the only three survivors from a base full of both cadets and adult clones. and finally, all three of them have noticeably different face shapes.

so my guess for their origins is that they're the results of the kaminoans trying to replicate tbb's mutations in a commando template, making them all specialized CC command cadets. From what we've seen of them, they don't seem to have quite as prominent abilities as say, wrecker or hunter, but are definitely above average to have survived that long.

Anyways the mini-backstory for them here is that they end up joining the rebellion around 5 years later (assuming that they're 6/12 and 8/16 in tbb s3, they would be 11/22 and 13/26 here) as the lead squad for the clone rebel cell after rex, wolffe, and gregor retire (and echo and cody are presumably dead).

Bonus: I originally had Deke's hair as dyed blond, but then he started looking too much like Rex (esp with the jaig eyes and partial arc armor) so I changed it back

edit: sorry i forgot to tag spoilers at first! it has since been fixed

[ruthlesslistener]

Learning genetics for phylogenetic purposes isn't enough I need to learn genetic engineering so that I can grow my own balls

[iobartach]

[aurabird]

Desperate Measures

Sparrow attempts a risky experiment on himself out of his desperation for abilities. The results of his efforts are nothing short of painful and traumatizing.

Owen’s latest New Life episode gave me many thoughts so I bring you this.

Tw: Implied body modification, body horror, self-experimentation.

Ao3 Link

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Sparrow checked the machine for what was probably at least the hundredth time. It had to work perfectly, otherwise...

...he didn’t want to think about the outcome of what would happen if just one of the mechanisms was even the slightest bit off, shaking the unbidden horrific images from his head.

Everything was in order, yet a sense of dread washed over him. He was desperate...so, so desperate, for some kind of power, ANY kind of power.

Gaining abilities after death was not a certainty, for while some of the residents in this land had in fact in fact died and simply come back with different abilities, they were hybrids to begin with. He was only human, nothing more; there was no way he could be sure what brought them back would work on him.

He could have approached this in some other way of course, it had crossed his mind to simply experiment on the hybrids in this land and try and figure out what made them what they were so that he could then replicate it.

But he’d shot that idea down instantly at the image of Scott in a cage laying in his own blood, the carefree and joyful glow in his heterochromatic eyes dulled from being drugged or tortured. No, Sparrow could never do something like that to him; or any of the other hybrids he’d met for that matter.

That’s what led him down the path he had gone. If he refused to experiment on hybrids then he would experiment on himself instead.

It began to rain as he shakily approached the chamber, trying to ignore the various devices that would dig into him once he sealed his fate.

The door of the chamber closed once he was inside, his back against cold metal. Restraints clamped around his wrists and ankles, a precaution to ensure he would not struggle.

The walls shut around him, casting darkness over everything. Sparrow was alone now with only his fear and mechanical whirring sounds for company.

All at once pain shot through every atom in his body. It was like he was being torn apart and then pieced back together on a molecular level. He supposed, that probably was exactly what was happening to him, given what he designed the machine to do.

Sparrow could not fight back the reflex urge to cry out in sheer agony as the machine worked, even though the scream was simply swallowed up by the sounds of everything else.

The worst part of everything was that Sparrow could feel the overwhelming energy that came with having far too many conflicting powers, feel his body try and adjust to the changes being made to his DNA.

Everything hurt, everything burned. Sparrow just wanted it all to stop! Please! Make it stop!

Once more a cry was wrenched from his throat, this time followed by a resounding BANG as behind his closed eyelids Sparrow saw a flash of white, felt the warmth of the explosion that had occurred.

And then he was on the ground, sobs racking his body as he cried, curled up tightly in a ball for comfort.

Elemental particles of all kinds swirled around him, parts of his body ever-shifting between various stages of corporeal. Two pairs of wings had torn free from his back, the feathers and leathery membranes coated in a deep crimson; feline ears were pressed flat against his head, curling horns nestled between them.

Even his scaled tail thrashed with discomfort and pain.

Sparrow forced himself to open his eyes, finding his vision was mismatched. From one eye, he could see color; from the other, only monochrome shades.

It was then that the horrifying realization of what he’d done in his desperation finally dawned on him.

He’d introduced several types of hybrid and fauna DNA into his own without any care for what it may do to him.

He almost didn’t want to see what he’d turned himself into, the newfound feeling of appendages he definitely did not have prior to stepping into the machine and the fact that his body felt like it was floating but also on fire told him everything he needed to know.

Despite his fear, Sparrow began to crawl; away from the machine behind him, away from what he knew were several sharp objects stained with his own blood. He made his way over to the edge of the peninsula he called home, towards the ocean to get a look at himself.

He tried to ignore the fact his arms were not human anymore.

Cool water lapped against his webbed and scaled fingers as grass turned into sand. The ocean called to him, yet his instincts also told him to get far, far away from it.

The face that reflected back was still his, save his mismatched eyes and the horns and ears. At least some of his facial features from before had remained; he didn’t want to think about what would have happened if no one realized that he was still Sparrow.

He then turned to inspect the rest of him, being met with the sight of something not human nor hybrid; some kind of chimeric, humanoid creature.

This was the price for his hubris...and it was something he’d have to live with for the rest of his life.

That was all it took for him to break. Sparrow curled into a ball once more and wept, his sobs the only thing audible underneath the static that filled his still-ringing ears.

He didn’t know how long he lay there in the sand, but soon another sound aside from his sobs could be heard. Were those...voices?

Sparrow opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, only a hiccup and a gasp. He could feel nothing but pain, couldn’t see anything but a mess of colors blurred by tears. If someone...or something was here, maybe they would just put him out of his misery.

A whisper of reassurance and a brief flash of orange and cyan broke through the fog of his mind, a familiar face...before everything went black.

[ponycycle]

internet withdrawal headache

[nymphomatique]

simulacra

atsv!miguel x fem!reader x comic!miguel

im no geneticist so please forgive me for any incorrect science terms 😁 i have no words for this one i wrote this with my pussy. enjoy! 

cw: bunch of word vomit before we get to the sex, miguelcest? two miguel’s like eachother very much, comic!miguel x fem!reader x atsv!miguel, boys kissing, reader fujoshing out, cunnilingus, ass eating (f receiving), blowjobs, ball sucking, handjob, fingering, squirting, voyeurism/cucking?? idk one watches for a bit, double penetration, anal fingering, unrealistic anal 🫡, nipple sucking (f), cum eating, honestly just vibes all around!

wc: 7.9k. im sorry.

—> so this was originally supposed to go up like several weeks ago with a note that i would be gone for school + summer classes (that i just finished!!!) but turns out i drafted it instead of queuing it like a fucking idiot 😁!!!!!! nonetheless, i’m so sorry for the wait. enjoy. 

“This is ambitious, even for you Miguel.”

“The worse that could happen is there’s no other dimension, then we take our dinner after this experiment.”

“You’re paying.”

“Only if I’m wrong.”

Geneticist by day, interdimensional scienctist by night, Miguel O’Hara proceeds as one of Alchemax’s brightest employees. A ground breaking research paper with a thesis on the future of genetics and their ability to be bioengineered and spliced with those of non-mammals earned him the title of lead geneticist, nothing short of prodigal in comparison to his peers. 

You and Miguel met two years ago during your internship for Alchemax, studying yourself to become a geneticist after reading Miguel’s thesis paper in your freshman year of college. Miguel is a famed alum of Nueva York University,  the science department’s crowning achievement in all its years of standing. When you had heard that the genetic science department had opened internship applications for Alchemax, you had been ecstatic. Not only would you have a chance to intern at the company of your dreams, but also get the chance to meet one of your academic idols. Needless to say, when you had read the words “Congratulations! You have been accepted and offered an internship position to study within Alchemax’s genetic science and engineering department.”, to say you were excited would be an understatement.

In the two years you’ve spent interning at Alchemax, you and Miguel have developed a close relationship to say the least. It had been a divine stroke of luck perhaps when you learned that you would be working along side Miguel as a lab technician, you had felt like you died and gone to heaven. Seeing framed photos of the scientific genius in his earlier years had no comparison to seeing him in person. To be crass, he was fucking sexy. Tall, extremely tall, broad and muscular in stature, and tan all over. Brooding eyes and a seemingly permanent frown of dissatisfaction present on his round lips, it was safe to say you had developed a slight workplace crush. 

Nevertheless, it seemed to be an unrequited infatuation. Miguel never seeming to want to talk to you about things beyond the study of deconstructing cells on an atomic level or changing the structure of somethings molecular composition, he seemed beyond disinterested in you. Still, you enjoyed the stolen glances and the misinterpretations of a touch or a word or a glance. It’s like a secret you have kept to yourself. 

It wasn’t all distaste on Miguel’s part however, after some time with him he began to share some tidbits out his personal life, rather reluctantly however. You caught him one day in the lab after hours, you had decided to stay late to work on a test subject, a spider with more than one type of species’ cells, an epigenetic experiment of yours. You were about to leave the lab when you saw Miguel hunched over his desk in his office fidgeting with a gadget you’ve never seen before. A rather crude looking watch, various types of wiring and exposed circuits coming together to form it. 

It was then he had explained to you his after hours personal project; inter-dimensional travel. To think he was ambitious was the least of your thoughts, you concluded in your head that he was downright stupid to think something like that is feasible on a level of understanding basic science and physics. But after witnessing the messy blueprints and nights of coffee and energy drinks, night after night, seeing how truly dedicated he was at just wanting to believe the idea of inter-dimensional travel, you had no choice but to indulge in him, your bubbling crush gave you no choice to object. 

So nights of him alone hunched over his desk, became late nights of both of you hunched over his desk together, fidgeting with formulas and logistics of opening a window to an entirely different universe. 

Sometimes you brought coffee, and sometimes he brought late night dinner (that he made in his kitchen) for the both of you. Regardless, the both of you had developed a work relationship, platonic of course, in the two years you’ve been present at Alchemax. You had even shared with him a draft of your own personal work for your final thesis before you graduate; the possibility bio engineering spider DNA with human DNA after your successful test of cross species creation of two types of spiders. To your surprise, Miguel had taken great interest in your work, even helping you with your thesis. It made it hard to not develop feelings for him under circumstances like this.

Tonight has been no different than any other. The two of you sat together in his personal office, gearing up to test a new iteration of the dimension opening watch, more sophisticated than one of the prototypes you walked in on Miguel tweaking at all those months ago. 

“Did you set up the tripod?”

“Check.”

“And the-“

“Yes, Miguel,” you drawl out, “the recorder is set as well. Can we get the started now? I’m tired and hungry. I’m counting on that burger.”

Miguel’s face goes stale and you hold in a laugh. You really love how easy it is to piss him off. “Get in position so we can start.” The fluttering thought of you and Miguel setting up and getting in position for a different type of movie crosses your mind and you blush a bit. Focus! You move behind the camera set up, and press record, signaling for Miguel to start the video log.

“Miguel O’Hara. Time is 22 hundred and 27. This is watch prototype 14-B. With this experiment, I hope to be the first person on earth to discover inter-dimensional travel.” 

You give a very subtle clear of your throat behind the camera and Miguel sighs and rolls his eyes. “I’m also accompanied by my lab technician.” You peek your head around the camera and wave with a smile. Unmoved, Miguel prepares to start with the experiment. A nervous glance to the camera and he twists the mechanism of the watch to the on setting. There’s a moment of silence, the room tense with anticipation, the silent clanking of gears filling the room, until its stops. There’s a short pause in hoping, anticipating something would happen but nothing. Miguel breaks the silence. 

“Attempt number 34 is a conclusive failure.”

“Knew you’d be buying me dinner tonight,” you quip, walking away from the camera, ignoring to turn it off. 

Miguel rolls his eyes at your comment shucking off his lab coat for the day. “Hurry up so we can catch the cafeteria before it closes.”

You’re hot on his heels, leaving the lab sauntering behind him.

“Attempt number 34 is a conclusive failure.”

“Knew you’d be buying me dinner tonight.”

Miguel was perplexed. Where are those voices coming from? 

Sat in his apartment, a glass of scotch on the rocks in his hand, with soft jazz lulling in the background. After a long day of hero work, the unwinding was needed, so such a rude interruption calls for investigation.

“Lyla?” He calls out softly, and with flitting of light she appears. Soft features and blonde hair all an illusion of light. 

“Yes?”

“Inspect where those voices are coming from.”

“On it,” and she’s gone once more. 

A sip of scotch luls the bulging nerve beginning to head at Miguel’s temple. With a sigh, and another curt sip, he gets lost in the soft jazz, the saxophone carrying him away just for a moment. Until..

“Miguel?” Lyla rouses him from his reverie, and he’s reminded of where he is. “I’m not sure where the sound is coming from. But I am sensing waves of molecular abnormality and instability, suggesting that someone could be-“

“Dimensional travel,” Miguel cuts. “Shock. Who do you think’s behind this?” 

“I’m not too sure, but I am worried. I’ll look into it further.” Lyla disappears once more within a moment. 

“For shock’s sake,” a sigh and thick fingers come up to pinch his nose bridge. This is the last thing he needs. He stands from the couch and is suddenly taken aback at the intense shaking in his penthouse. “What the sh- Lyla!” he calls out, but as the shaking continues she’s nowhere to be seen. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. A bean of light shoots up from under the ground and blinds Miguel. He’s so fucked if he ends up in the hands of some villain. The floor splits from under him, swallowing him and spitting him out into a void-tunnel-like space, an amalgamation of orange, yellow, red, and pink lights. He feels like he’s everywhere and nowhere, all and nothing at once. He simply closes his eyes and braces himself for wherever this decides to drop him. 

Glass breaking alerts Miguel all the way from the cafeteria. 

“Did you hear that?” He stalls mid conversation. Quiet. Listening. 

You’re confused. “No? How good is your hearing you think you hear things from down here?”

“Sensitive hearing,” he says, still unmoving. There’s another pause, until he starts packing up his food to go. “Stay here. I think someone is in the lab.”

Your eyebrows pull together. “You don’t know me as well as I thought. I’m investigating with you, let’s go.” 

Miguel looks at you and any argument dies with the deadpan look you give him. Silently, he walks back to the lab and you’re just as silent, following behind him.

First, Miguel thinks he’s in a hospital. The white lights and broken vials he landed on making him think he fucked up some poor doctor’s office. Then, he looks around and he knows it’s not a doctor’s lab. The bunsen burners and scribbles upon a rolling chalk board riddled with math. Then, he sees the abandoned lab coat embroidered with the word ALCHEMAX. How did he end up here? That’s when he hears it. Hulking footsteps, followed by a lighter tread. Shit. Shit. Shit. He had no gear on. The footsteps were getting closer. He thinks fast, grabbing a piece of a broken beaker in his hand. 

The lab door swings open and that’s when he sees the both of you. Him and the stranger in front of him look at each other. Perplexed. You’re like me. Different. It’s unspoken. There’s a pause before you emerge from behind the large man and Miguel looks at you up and down, glossing you with his eyes. Cute, he muses silently. You raise a brow at him blatantly checking you out before you speak.

“Care to explain what’s going on here, or should we call security and let them deal with you instead?” A hand rests on your hip as you pose the question. A feisty one, he can tell. 

Miguel sits up and drops the glass. “I.. don’t know how I got here or how. One minute I was in my house and the next..” he shrugs and looks around.

You freeze, looking at the tall man before you both. “You don’t think.. do you?” And he freezes at the question a beat after you ask it.

“It worked.” 

“So, uh,” Miguel clears his throat. “Care to clue a guy in?”

You think you’re losing your mind. You can’t believe it worked. A person, a man, from another dimension is here. In your lab. You and Miguel did this. You want to burst with excitement and vomit in fear at the same time. 

Holy fuck, dimension travel is real. We did it. We fucking did it. 

You introduce yourself and your lab partner to the strange and is face goes staunch.

“What did you say..?”

“This is my- my lab partner Miguel. Miguel O’Hara.”

“No shocking way.. I’m Miguel O’Hara.”

It’s your turn to go staunch next. “You’re- what?”  It’s now you take a moment to look, really 

look at the other Miguel. First thing you notice is he’s drastically shorter that your Miguel, sitting at five foot eleven compared to the staunch six feet and nine inches of your Miguel. Then, you look at his face. Same brown tresses but less wavy, coiffed in a messy side look instead of the slick back you’re used to seeing. Still, you can’t deny his attractiveness looking at him. Some things seem to carry on between dimensions, like the same thick eyebrows, slightly tanned skin, and soft looking lips in a pout. You trail your eyes down his strong nose to his thick shoulders, muscles visible even through a plain white tee shirt. The small of his waist and the thick of his thighs strained against his denim jeans have your mind trailing off for a moment, with very inappropriate thoughts to have about a coworker and a stranger. 

Miguel, your Miguel, has barely said a word, brooding over you and his tether silently. “Yeah. And this is Alchemax, yeah? My father owns this company where I’m from, the piece a’shit. Lyla would lose her head at this.”

Miguel decides to speak finally and it scares you a bit. “Did you say Lyla? As in Lyrate Lifeform-“

“Lifeform Approximation, yeah.” 

“Brother?”

“Gabriel, the pain in the ass he is.”

Miguel’s in disbelief. “No way this is- I did this.” He looks at you for a second and away, like he’s thinking, contemplating.

“Are you.. do you take it too? Rapture?” he chooses his words carefully, and you’re confused. Rapture? 

“Yeah,” he nods. 

You look between the two men, a bit flustered to be honest, and clear your throat, trying not to blush when they look at you. “Sorry to be that guy here gentlemen but uh- how do we get him back?”

“I think the pretty little scientist is right here, my brother. I think you know as well as I do why I can’t stay here for too long.”

He does. A dirty little secret he’s kept from not only you, but all of Nueva York, is that he’s the one and only Spider-Man. Not only does rapture need to be sated, but crime doesn’t allow for vacation time in this line of work. Left to its vices, Nueva York may very well burn itself from inside out.

“Get me the watch,” your Miguel asks you. You twiddle off to the office with broken glass and loose paper rattled all over the floor, picking up the watch in all its fried-wire glory. You grimace, before getting up to leave when you notice the camera from the video logs on the floor tucked away behind a fallen chair. You remember that you forgot to turn it off before you left for lunch. You bring it in jest, hoping maybe there’s something valuable on film. If not, you get to watch Miguel look incredibly handsome in his lab coat again, and you can’t complain about that. 

It’s quiet between the pair when you return. You can’t help but look at them, thinking how ludicrous this whole situation is, truly. “I still can’t believe you guys are the same person,” you muse aloud, dropping the broken watch on the counter along with the camera. “I forgot to stop recording, might be something worthwhile on that thing.”

“Thanks. We’ll clean up and uh, head to my place. S’getting late,” your Miguel says, dropping the watch in his pocket.

In the two weeks the other Miguel has been here, you’ve learned two things: One, Miguel, the both of them, are Spider-Man. Other Miguel had let it slip, and your Miguel confirmed it to you. Following a brief moment of shell shock, your mind began to race. His stamina is probably incredible, and he’s so big and durable, I wonder what he looks like under that suit. Speaking of that suit, you’ve never not noticed the bulge but knowing it’s been Miguel under there the whole time you bite your lip. You’re so fucked. Second, you were beginning to develop a bit of a crush on the other Miguel. You delude yourself into thinking it’s an enamourment that’s returned, the flirty jokes and wandering exchanges shared between the two of you.

This was something that unbeknownst to you didn’t fly under your Miguel’s radar in the slightest. When all three of you are together, you notice the way his muscles in his face pull at the borderline vulgar double entendres his doppelgänger makes towards you. The twist of his lips, the hard swallow in his throat. Is he… jealous? 

“Red or white?” you hear the other Miguel over the couch ask, and the question grounds you. You’re over at Miguel’s place, in attempts to figure out what missing code is needed to finally send Miguel’s other back to his original dimension. You had showed up on time, but Miguel had been running late with Spider-Man duties, so you and his tether found yourself plenty occupied within the wine cabinet, stocked with aged reds and whites. 

“Red,” you reply back. “What bottle is that? If it’s expensive he’ll kill you.”

“Chateau Cheval Blanc. 1947. Aged to perfection,” Miguel says, walking towards you at the couch with two large rounded glasses in hand accompanied with a rather expensive looking wine bottle. When he rounds the couch you quirk an eye at him. “All the bottles he has are expensive. And technically, they’re my bottles too.”

You roll your eyes and can’t help but smile. With a pop, the champagne bottle opens, and the smooth pour of amber liquid fills your glass. 

At the first sip, it’s tart, a slight edge to the wine. But with each sip, the notes of fruit and full bodied taste of it begins to hit your taste bud. As you sip, conversation between you and Miguel follows. He tells you about his own perils as Spider-Man, his troubled home life, romantic life, and everything in between. 

You laugh. You sip. Your glass empties, and he refills it. You’re warm. Your eyelids become heavier. You’re blinking slower. You’re chewing your lip. You’re nervous.

You’re nervous to be alone with Miguel like this. You’re scared of his charm, his dry humour. His chiseled jaw and rounded lips. You really wanna kiss him.

You realize he’s been talking to you this whole time, sat across the couch, droning on about his own LYLA. You feel the heat in your stare, and you wonder if he can too. You can’t help but look at his lips while he’s talking, his tongue peeking out in a flash of pink to wet his lips after a prolonged sentence. 

Kiss me. Kiss me. Kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me kiss me. 

Your hand slowly comes up towards Miguel’s face and the words slowly die out of his mouth until he’s silent, staring at you like you’ve been staring it him. 

“S’good wine,” you say, rubbing soft circles into his cheek. 

“Yeah?” he asks, and you nod and bite your lip. “How comes, baby?” You blush. He’s teasing you now. This is exactly what you wanted.

“Makes me feel warm.” 

You’re meek in your speech, and Miguel finds it adorable, building up the all too palpable feeling of attraction. “Just warm?” he prods, his turn to run circles onto your skin. You’re glad you worse a dress, you think, as his hand trails slowly up your thigh until his fingers are just centimetres away from where you really want them. Then he begins to caress your upper thigh with his thick hand. You’re beyond the point of wanting a kiss now.

You shake your head slowly. “Not just warm. Needy,” you sigh out. Your hand leaves his face and falls on top of his hand on your thigh, and you pull it up ever so slightly until he’s touching you where you really want it, his fingers simply resting against the fabric of your panties. “Feel needy here.”

“Oh, baby..” he drawls, and he pulls you in with a kiss with his free hand. You feel yourself melt into him, a little dizzy. Whether it’s the wine or Miguel, you’re unsure, but you savour this feeling, scared for it to end. Your lips exchange taste, his mouth tasting of the wine, mint and cigarettes. You can’t help but grind yourself into his fingers, and he finally gets the hint and rubs against the crotch of your panties, coaxing the wetness out of you. Your lips don’t leave eachother, the moment you’ve been waiting for being fuelled but the weeks worth of desire for this Miguel, and years worth of repressed feelings for the other. Your hands comb through his thick brown hair, holding onto him as if he’ll disappear if you let go. Your lips leave his to whisper your words of desire into his ear. You can’t wait anymore.

“F-fuck me, please.”

He groans, his lips making his way to your neck to suck, and when your field of vision clears up you freeze. Miguel is home. Standing in the doorway to his apartment, watching you suck face with his tether. You feel like a kid whose hand got caught in the cookie jar, the strong look of displeasure, anger, at catching you in the middle of defiling his couch. Other Miguel eases up off of your neck with a satisfied face that falls flat when he sees the expression on yours, eyes fixed over his shoulder. He sits up and turns around and freezes once he sees what you see.

It’s unbelievably tense in the room. Your mind feeling like it’s going a mile a minute, while also feeling like you’re unable to produce a coherent thought, a combination of Miguel’s touches and that damned red wine. 

Your mouth opens and closes over and over, until you blurt out some half-coherent apology for making out with his indimensional counterpart in his home. 

“I’ll um- leave.”

You get up and grab your purse, walking past your Miguel on your way to the door, but you’re met with a strong hand on your shoulder. His strong hand on your shoulder. “Sit.” 

It’s all he says. And you do. 

You slowly stalk back to the couch, sat in the middle trying to keep a respectable distance from the other Miguel, considering the embarrassing position you were caught in. Miguel makes his way over to the couch, looking at the wine bottle and wine glasses on his glass centre table. 

“1947. Good year,” he smirks, and you’re feel your stomach twist. What is he playing at?

Finally, Miguel sits beside you, and you feel your face heat up at your predicament. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

“I’m not upset about what you two did in here,” Miguel states plainly. He runs his eyes down your neck at the drying spit in between the juncture of it and your shoulder. You look down in embarrassment, but his hand lifts your chin up to look at him once more. “I’m just upset he wasn’t going to wait for me,” he says, brushing his fingers across your cheek and down your chin. You barely have a moment to process what the fuck is happening before his lips crash into yours. Your wine-muddled brain is swirling with so many thoughts but the only one you listen to is the one telling you to kiss him back, so you do. You kiss him back softly, letting him lead you into it. His tongue slips between your lips when you let out a soft moan, and the kiss breaks. Miguel chuckles at your face. He looks beyond you and eyes his twin. “You gonna join or what?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” other Miguel muses, and grabs your chin to kiss you next. The difference between the two kisses has your mind spinning. One soft but dominating, the other hot and heavy. You want to feel them both forever. You feel another pair of lips on your body, your neck specifically, softly kissing up and down the plane of skin there until the soft kisses turn into lingering nips, and the nips turn into bites and sucks that have you writhing against the couch.

Other Miguel breaks the kiss to move his way down to the juncture of your neck, littering it with bites and kisses as well. The stimulation on both sides feels so good, you can’t help but moan and tilt your head back. With lips preoccupied, a set of hands moves to life your shirt, exposing your bra and the swell of your breasts. Palms move through cups of your bra up, freeing your breasts. They’re only free for so long until a palm envelopes one, and a pair of lips from your neck migrates to your unattended nipple. Your eyes have been closed this entire time, the sensation and sheer circumstance throwing you for a loop. You open your eyes and look down, to see your Miguel sucking and pawing at your breasts, while the other continues to lick and bite at you. You feel sharp teeth graze your nipple and you hiss, your hand moving to the back of Miguel’s head and running your fingers through his brown hair, gripping slightly. He peeks up at your face with a smirk, biting one nipple and pinching the other. Your back arches and you inhale shakily and he chuckles. “Naughty fucking girl. Strip.”

It takes you a moment before your brain processes the words you just heard, but after a moment you realize what he said. Strip. You get up, back facing the two, and you undress slowly, and you become privy the sound of them stripping along with you. you sit back down between the two, hands in your palms and nervous. You’ve had sex before but never this intense, or with two guys at once. 

“Can you get on your hands and knees for me, mama? I want your ass this way.” Your Miguel asks.

Ever so pliant, you obey. Ass up, face down in the other Miguel’s lap. You take the time to look at his dick from where you are and your eyes bulge. He’s not the longest but fuck is he thick. He’s well groomed, his curly pubic hair kept primped and cut at his base. In your reverie, you feel something wet lick up at your slit and it sends a chill down your spine. He’s eating your pussy. Miguel is eating your pussy. 

“Taste so good down here too,” he muses from behind you, inhaling you before diving his tongue deep within you. Your lower body feels like it’s been set ablaze, your nerves on edge and Miguel’s prodding and licking and sucking and rubbing. His fingers circle your clit slowly as he eats you out and you feel like you’re in heaven. 

“I see you’re feeling good, huh baby. Make me feel good too, yeah?” Other Miguel says, caressing your hair away from his face. You nod, and grab his thick cock in your hand, beginning to slowly jerk him off. “Yeah, just like that baby,” he sighs, watching you intensely. You jerk him off for another moment before you lift your head up and lick haphazardly at the tip of his penis, twitching and leaking already. You look up at him as you give his tip kitten licks, and then put the tip in your mouth. “Fucking vixen, you are,” he groans, his hand coming to sit at the back of your head. You bob your head up and down slowly, trying your best not to scrape your teeth against his shaft while your Miguel eats you out so feverishly. You’re sucking and licking as best as you can, reaching a hand around to cup and massage Miguel’s balls, and his hips twitch up and push him deeper in the back of your throat. You moan, at both him and the Miguel behind you, and Miguel notices. He holds your head more firmly before he starts to thrust up into your mouth, fucking your face. Your mouth produces obscene noises, leaking spit around the base of his cock and down your lips. You moan as he fucks your face and suddenly you jolt. A thick finger breaches in you and starts thrusting against your walls, and you can’t help but moan, feeling already full from both ends. One finger becomes two, and Miguel finger fucks you to the pace of other Miguel’s hips. “Taking us so fucking well, baby. Good girl. So good. Take it for us.” You don’t know which one says it, but you keen at the praise. You want more. Your throat feels tight, like you’re gonna suffocate on this thick cock, but you hold out, feeling so good and hot inside. “Almost there baby. Swallow it all.” You muster the energy to flit your eyes up and see Miguel’s eyes closed as he fucks your face voraciously. You feel hot, both at the fingers inside you and the face Miguel is making. With each thrust, your nose hits his pubes and it makes him moan increasingly louder until he thrusts one final time and groans. “Take it for me, baby. Don’t swallow yet, fuck. Fuck!” he moans. He pulls his dick out of your mouth until it’s just the tip your lips wrap around. You breathe deeply through your nose, finally. You let Miguel’s potent cum spurt in your mouth until he finishes and pulls out. 

“Show me,” he breathes. 

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, showing him the white ropes of cum in your mouth and how groans, pulling you up to his lips to kiss him messily. You’re dumbfounded before you can even realize that your Miguel pulls you away and towards him next, pulling you into a kiss too. His tongue swirls in your mouth before he pulls away from you. “I told you I wanted to share,” he says, before kissing you again. Your head is spinning. You’re not even sure this entire thing isn’t some mega fucked up erotic dream you’re having. You can’t find it in you to care if it is or not for another moment when you feel Miguel grab your hand and wrap it around his cock. Your fingernails barely touch around the girth of him so you look down and holy shit. 

Miguel chuckles at your reaction to his size. He must get this often. His cock is definitely proportional to the rest of him, long and thick all over with a trail of curly dark hair at his base. It’s not as groomed as other Miguel’s but you don’t mind. The leaking, uncut cock in front of has you pulsating inside, and you bend down to lick the precum from his dick. “Such a good girl for me. I don’t even have to tell you what to do,” Miguel says, stroking your hair. You hear movement behind you before lips lick from your clit to asshole, and it takes you by surprise. Your lips pop off of Miguel’s cock and you turn around to see the other Miguel, already semi-errect with a smug smile on his lips. “I-I’ve never.. not there,” you stutter. “Just relax baby. M’here to make you feel good,” a says, rubbing his hand across your right ass-cheek. You nod and go back to sucking off Miguel, feeling the wet tickle of Miguel’s tongue against your asshole. You can’t help but tense as him placing kisses back there. He brings his other hand up to your other ass-cheek and spreads you apart. So vulgar, but you can’t help but find a part of you that likes it.

Miguel spit on your asshole, causing a squeak to leave your stuffed lips, before his plunged his tongue in the hole. Your head starts to fly back before Miguel’s hand stops you and pushes you down, two thirds of his dick down your throat.

“Ah ah, baby. Be a good girl and show me how you suck me off,” he says, rubbing the apple of your bulging cheek with his hand. Be a good girl and show him. With Miguel’s thrusting tongue in your ass, you keep forward and try and fit more of Miguel’s dick in your mouth, sucking him and jerking off what can’t fit in your mouth. “Just like that, baby. Yeah. Make your master happy.”

Your stomach contracts at the word master and something flips in you. You suck his cock until you feel like your jaw is about to dislocate, letting yourself get lost in the praise and the pleasure, feeling an orgasm build up from getting your ass ate. You begin your tremble at the constant stimulation, sucking even harder. Your feel Miguel’s dick twitch in your mouth, an almost there slipping from his lips as you suck and lick and jerk him off. Your hips start to shake when you pull off his dick, placing the tip against your tongue and jerking him, wanting to milk him of his seed.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum.” Miguel pants.

You brace yourself and open your mouth even wider, jerking him as he cums in your mouth. Miguel’s tart cum falls against your tongue, falling down the side of your face as you hold your mouth open for him. He groans above you and curses. “Swallow it.” And you do. Miguel groans before he leans down to meet you in a dirty kiss, and you can’t hold it in anymore before you’re groaning into his mouth and shivering into him from your orgasm. Other Miguel doesn’t stop licking you, licking up the liquid leaking from your pussy with a salacious sounding moan. “Sweet fucking pussy,” he moans between licks, and you’re trembling at the overstimulation, sending you into a second orgasm. This time, you feel your body tense up, and before you know it, you’re squirting into Miguel’s mouth. You gasp, and move your hips from Miguel’s face, feeling your own liquid leak down your leg. 

“Yeah, baby. So fuckin’ sweet,” the words make your clit tremble, the sheer base in Miguel’s voice twisting and turning, prodding and pulling at your nerves. “Don’t run, lemme finish, yeah?”

Your hips buck up and away wildly but to no avail, Miguel proving to be an immovable force to your constant movement. With every suck and lick, you feel your energy depleted as the pleasure crosses the threshold of pain, the overstimulation making your body go both numb and still. You’re engulfed in a haze, your body going limp against the couch save for your pelvis held up by two very large hands.

Distantly, you hear skin slapping and you flit your eyes up for a moment to see your Miguel jerking off at the sight of you, surrendered fully to them both. Your eyes roll towards the back of your head when you feel the wetness of Miguel’s thick tongue lick up from your clit to your ass, prodding the tight rim of muscle lightly with his tongue. Before you can register what’s about to happen, you feel a gush of wetness leave you and you groan, utterly exhausted simply from foreplay. Your ears pick up on the increased speed your Miguel took in jerking himself off, a groan leaving his lips shortly after your own does. You picture him covered in his own cum, white sketched across his tone and tanned abs, and the mental picture is enough to get you excited again, despite the way your muscles protest.

“Such a good girl, taking my mouth like that.”

You suppose you should answer, but your tongue is limp in your mouth, unable to force a sequencing of words out. Instead, you let out a pathetic sounding moan.

“I want a taste too. Holding out on me, baby?”

You half expect the stimulation to start again, tensing up, anticipating a touch to your sensitive clit. After a beat, you finally notice you’re untouched still, and a part of you is graceful for this recovery time, but the shuffling behind you has you finding the strength to lift your head up and—

Oh my fucking god.

Your brain short circuits for a moment, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing above you.

Your eyes flutter open and close a few times, somewhat of a quick blink to make sure you’re not riding off some ecstasy high that has you imagining things, that has you imagining both Miguel’s kissing. 

It’s slow, and messy at the same time. Your fluids are being lapped up and exchanged by the two men, who lap up and exchange their own saliva as well. You’re struggling to make sense of the eroticism of it, and sheer absurdity of two Miguel O’Haras making out, both mouths wet of your pussy’s nectar. The cognitive dissonance starts to kick your ass a bit, rationalizing the logistics of self incest and it being plain out sexy. 

They break apart, both slightly flushed. Your Miguel eyes you with low, brown eyes while your gaze is transfixed at his wet lips, a singular web of saliva connecting both of the men’s lips as they pull apart. Your breath is caught in your throat and you’ve immediately made your decision about the bullshit logistics of this dimensional anomaly. It’s making you so fucking wet. 

You’re sure Miguel notices your face, as a breathy laugh leaves his plump lips, wet with both you and him and another him.

“Knew you’d taste good.” He winks and smiles a smile that has your legs regaining feeling once more. 

You slowly sit up, straddling yourself in Miguel’s lap. “Want you in,” your hands wrap around his strong shoulders and you lay your cheek against his chest, grinding your sensitive wet lips up and against his dick slowly. You have other Miguel in your line of sight, and you see him watching you both, cock straining against his stomach. It has you feeling warm, thinking of how he unwound you from the inside like that earlier with only his mouth. You can only imagine how it would feel with him inside you. “I- I want you in me too. Please..”

Your voice comes out as meek, but the raunchy display of your hips grinding, face flushed, is anything but. 

“Gotta go slowly, mama. You ready?” Miguel asks you, his large hands resting at your hips now, slowly increasing the friction of your wet pussy lips against his thick cock. You moan a bit, and nod in his chest. The thick tip of Miguel’s dick stretches its way inside your pussy, burning slightly despite how wet you are. You wince in pleasure, savouring the burn of the stretch. Other Miguel sits up and makes his way behind you, kissing your back and neck as you sink down onto your Miguel’s cock.

“Fucking tight,” Miguel groans, just as aroused and affected as you are in all the hazy pleasure. Once you’re fully sat, you can’t help but sit up and look down at your lower stomach, a slight bulge in your lower abdomen. “Holy shit,” you moan. You’re pushed back against Miguel’s chest and you squeak at the sudden movement.

“Gonna fuck your tight little ass, baby. Okay?” 

It’s rough the way he spits it out into your ear from behind you. You can hear the arousal and anticipation in Miguel’s voice. He spreads your cheeks, spitting on your taut hole. “Gonna have to relax f’me, baby. Gonna be a real tight squeeze.”

You wince and hold onto your Miguel as the other one enters you from behind. While his size isn’t as big as your Miguel, he’s still insanely thick and long in his own right. It takes a lot out of you to withstand the entrance. Soft kisses to your temple and shoulder, sweet nothings and whisperings of “You’re doing so well”, “Good little girl” tickle your ears. From who, you’re not sure. But the verbal praise makes the pain worth it with the way a concentrated heat builds in the depths of your stomach from their charged words.

“I’m all in baby, tell me when you’re ready.” You blink once, twice, and exhale a curt puff of breath. You can’t wait anymore. 

“M-move, but slow.”

As soon as the words leave your lips, the rocking of hips start, and you feel everything. The pain, the pleasure, the push, the pull, the sheer unnerving hot heat and sensation the two men bounce you between.

After the initial moment of processing the moment you’re having with these two men, these two Miguel’s, you feel your body become both wracked and accepting of the pleasure. The cant of hips get rougher, the spill of moans and breath get louder, and you start to feel yourself get lost in the raunchiness of it all. Your hands roam up a plane of firm musculature and it has you reeling. Miguel is so manly you can’t help but let it turn you on. 

“Feeling good, hm?” Miguel’s full lips are pulled into a smirk as he fucks up into your pussy and you simply grip onto his biceps as he drives into you harder. One particular thrust has you sitting up and leaving back into the other Miguel, head tucked away into the juncture of his neck as he fucks your ass from behind. “I think- fuck- we broke her, man. Can barely speak.” You can hear the smirk in Miguel’s voice as he says that, but you can’t be bothered to protest, because you feel like if you let them fuck you any longer you’ll enter comatose. 

Hands from behind you roam up from your hips to your breasts, squeezing at the expanse of your chest tenderly. Simultaneously, thick hands plant themselves on your hips, squeezing as they bring you down in time to the upwards thrusts of hips. “Oh my god- I’m gonna c-cum,” you breathe out, feeling your body wind itself up, preparing for another explosive release. The hands at your breasts start to squeeze your nipples, pinching and pulling the sensitive and erect buds, and you squeal. 

“So fucking sensitive, baby.” You know that’s the other Miguel, his lips are directly next to your ear. You turn your face towards his and plant your lips against his, desperate for a kiss. Your lips tingle as he kisses you back and you moan in his mouth, your hands running through his thick brown hair and gripping gentle for support. You’re sure that if you were to let go you’d fall face first into your Miguel’s chest, which wouldn’t be all bad now that you’re thinking about it. 

Your kiss with Miguel breaks when you feel something warm and wet wrap around your nipple- Miguel’s mouth. You gasp, feeling yourself tighten around him inside of your pussy as you watch him suckle at your breast. Lips trail up against your neck and they suck and Oh my god- he bites your nipple and you moan so loud it almost startles you. That signature smirk doesn’t cease to appear on Miguel’s face even with your nipple between his lips, and you’d smack him if he wasn’t fucking you oh so well.

The lips sucking hickeys into your neck stop and the cold air drying the spit there makes you shiver. Miguel chuckles behind you and you feel the reverberation of the sound in his chest up against your back and it makes you feel warm inside. You can’t hold on for much longer if the two keep teasing you like this. “P-please let me cum, I can’t anymore,” you heave out, both exhausted and inexplicably excited.

“What do you say, Miguel. Should we let her finish?” A voice behind you. Your eyes squeeze close at a particularly intense thrust to your ass.

“Mmm, I don’t think she wants it enough.” A gravelly voice from your front says. He unlatches from your nipples. Thick fingers tease at your clit and you keen forward. 

“P- please oh my gosh please let me come I want it so bad-“ You feel like you’re on your knees, begging to two unmerciful gods to turn your punishment into something considerably comparable to a torturing pleasure. 

“Hold on for juuust a little, baby. We’ll make you feel real good, real soon.” 

The thick fingers teasing your clit, which you’ve deduced belong to the Miguel behind you, move on from their teasing to rubbing strong circles into your clit and you feel your legs begin to tremble. The feeling of your body getting ready to unwind feels closer and closer and you feel your ass and your pussy get fucked harder and harder until- 

When it happens you feel disjointed from your body, watching from third person. You can see yourself, squirming and twitching and shaking and squirting again all over Miguel’s couch and lap and they’re still fucking you because they haven’t cum yet. Your body begins to go slack and you fall against your Miguel’s chest, lips grazing his nipple as he continues to fuck up into you fervently. 

“Looks like we fucked you numb, baby,” he laughs and you hear it- feel it in his chest, and you moan lazily. “Oh baby, I know. I’m almost ready to cum. Just a little more.”

“F-fuck, I’m gonna burst back here,” Other Miguel grunts above you. His hips pound roughly for two- three- four more thrusts before his stills into you and you can feel his cum spurt into you and you shiver. Right behind him your Miguel follows fucking his cum into your pussy with a deep and heavy groan. 

“S-So deep…” you breathe out, relishing in the stillness between all three of you. Heavy breathing weighs in the air for few moments before you feel Miguel slowly begin to pull out of your ass, his cum leaking out of you lewdly. You inhale a sharp breath as he moves to sit down on the couch, and that’s when your Miguel lifts you off of his semi-softened cock and onto your back on his lush sofa. 

Your chest rises up and down and your eyes flutter closed as you struggle to catch your breath and wrap your head around what happened, but you barely get a moment’s rest before your knees are pushed up to the side of your head and you’re basically balancing yourself on your shoulders. Your eyes shoot open and you see two heads above you.

“Gotta taste our work, don’t we?”

One mouth against your creampied pussy, one mouth against your cum filled ass. You’re not too concerned about who mouth is where- but them sucking at your holes, licking up their cum and yours too is sending your body into overdrive with the overstimulation.

You focus on the image up above you and your eyes bulge in your head at what you see, with each lick up your mounds, the tongues between the two Miguel’s touch. With each lick their tongues touch longer, and longer, until they kiss once more, exchanging each other’s cum with your in their mouths and you’re sure you’ve begun to witness an orgasm induced hallucination. They finish kissing, lips and mouths wet and messy, and your legs come back down from your head to the soft couch cushions. 

Your mind is absolutely reeling, processing the last few hours up until moments ago, feeling warm in the face already. 

You’re so fucked going back to work.

[exhaslo]

Hi again! I hope you’re doing well. I see you’re open for requests, and I have an interesting and NSFW one.

So we already have fics involving Miguel having a heat/mating cycle due to his spliced DNA with Spider DNA. How about Spider![Reader] [FEMALE] being in heat this time and she avoids everyone in the Spider Society, especially Miguel, her own “secret boyfriend”. She’s usually friendly with everyone, but recently acting like she was “sick” and doesn’t want anyone near her. However, Miguel caught wind of this and he brought her back to his lair/office (as a caring boyfriend worried about his girlfriend), [Reader] begs him to “help” with her situation.

Then things got heated and he helped relieve [Reader]’s libido.

- @club-danger-zone

Hehehehehehehe

Warning: MINORS DNI, Smut, breeding kink, overstimulation, begging, creampie, fingering

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

What did you do so wrong in your life to deserve this horrible side effect of being half-Spider?

Why did such a thing have to happen to you?

This felt like a cruel punishment given only to you. The hero of this damn city. Someone who fought for those who couldn't; someone who fought for good; why did you have to be cursed with something so tempting and primal?

You suffered from heat, or a mating cycle as some would call it. Every now and then you would suddenly have to urge to have sex and want to get pregnant. It wasn't something you could control, nor did you enjoy suffering from it.

You had tolerated it for the most part. Save up enough money so you could call out of work during this time. Had a variety of different toys to pleasure yourself with until the pain goes away.

But this time, it was different.

You weren't sure why, but honestly you could make a few guesses. There were only a few small changes in your life since the last heat cycle. Between your personal issues and the Spider Society, your main guess for the new pain was...

Your boyfriend.

You've never been in a relationship before until now. Your heat was going crazy probably because you had a source to get pregnant now. The only issue is that you and Miguel hadn't gotten that far yet. The two of you were in a secret relationship.

Miguel was the leader of the Spider Society. It was frowned upon to be dating between dimensions. Miguel always said that you were a special case, which was why he broke that rule. You loved Miguel and were happy with him...but you never told him this secret.

Groaning softly, you laid against your bed, your fingers working furiously. Nothing was good enough. Nothing was reliving you. Your heat wasn't going away.

Recalling how Miguel's futurist world had cures for nearly everything, you felt a light bulb appear. Perhaps, there was something to calm down your heat? Hurrying to your suit, you whimpered as you used your watch to transport to the Spider Society.

-------

Miguel had just returned from a mission, grunting loudly as he dragged the anomaly behind him. Miguel was tired and frustrated. As he walked around the Spider Society, Miguel couldn't help but hear some of the others talk about you acting strange.

Curious about what was going on with his girlfriend, Miguel hurried to find you. He threw the anomaly in the cell and had Lyla search for your watch location. He was surprised to find you in one of the bathrooms.

Making his way over, Miguel made sure to enter when no one else was inside. He locked the door and approached the stall you were in.

"(Y/n), are you alright, mi amor? (My love)" Miguel asked softly as you cried.

"N-No, I'm in pain, Miggy," You sobbed. Miguel quickly opened the door, bending down to your level,

"What's wrong?" He asked, wiping your tears away.

Miguel watched as your breathing shuddered the moment he touched you. The look in your eyes were lustful as you merely whimpered, tugging against his arm. You were acting strange. Miguel went to pick you up, causing you to whine and wrap your arms around his neck.

"Migs...P-Please help me. I need...I need you." Your voice was so desperate and sweet.

"(Y/n), is this a side effect of your spider biting you in your world?" Miguel asked softly as he quickly took you to his lair.

"Mhm, y-yes. I...I'm in....h-heat," You were so cute as you barely got the words out.

"Ah-"

Miguel finally felt the click as you told him. Looking around at his large lair, Miguel knew that this would not be private enough, nor comfortable for you. So, he took you to a spare bedroom in the Spider Society and locked the door.

Right as Miguel turned around, you had already taken your clothes off. You were on your knees, practically crying as you begged Miguel to hurry.

"Aye, amor, how can I go easy on you like this?"

---------

Your mind was starting to grow fuzzy. The pain was too much, especially since Miguel was going to help you. Your clothes were getting uncomfortable so you had to remove them. You inhaled deeply as Miguel approached you, stroking your cheek.

"Mhm~"

The warmth of his hand instantly melted you. You grabbed onto Miguel, pulling him in for a kiss. It was sloppy, but you needed this. Miguel proceeded to press your body against the bed as his tongue ravished your mouth.

His hands were all over you, giving you that desperate touch you needed. Gasping, Miguel's fingers easily entered your soaked cunt, touching you in all the places you had been needing to be touch. The curl of his fingers against your gummy walls, caused you to moan and cry.

"So wet, amor. How long have you suffered from this?"

"Ah~ Ah~ S-So long....n-need you, Miggy~" You cried, shaking from cumming against his fingers.

"No, (Y/n), how long today."

"Hnnn, hours! M-Miguel, please! F-Fuck me!" You begged.

Your body needed more. The burning sensation was finally starting to go away, you just needed more. Miguel grunted softly, kissing your neck as he raised your legs. You were clenching to air, anticipating the fantastic feeling you were about to endure.

Tears started to form as you felt Miguel poke your entrance. His kisses a bit more rough as his cock started to make room inside of you. Pure bliss soared from your pussy to your brain as his thick cock stretched your gummy walls.

"I always imagined our first time...a bit more romantic," Miguel whispered, grunting softly as he kept pushing.

"S-Sorry t-that...ah~ I-I can't...mhm contro-"

"Shh, don't be sorry," Miguel grunted, finally setting fully inside of you, "I'll make sure to give you as much as you want. I'm happy to help."

You just moaned to his words, feeling his cock kissing your cervix. Your pussy fluttering around his cock as you cam from insertion. The warmth you were feeling was building up inside you. That knot growing as you moved your hips, needing more friction.

With each thrust, you started to lose your senses. Every slap of Miguel's hips brought you to heaven. Your body just melted against his as the noises the two of you made because almost pornographic. The wet slapping noises over powering his grunts.

"You're so loud, amor. Everyone will hear you," Miguel grunted as he pressed you into mating position, "What do I have to do to keep you quiet?"

"C-Cum, ah~ i-inside~" You cried, shuddering from the overstimulation.

The burning sensation was finally going away and all you wanted was Miguel to fill you. Breed you. Each slap of his cock inside you was almost painful from how sensitive you were. Jolts were shocking every part of you.

"Anything for you,"

Miguel groaned softly in your ear as he gave you his first hot load. You moaned, shuddering from cumming again. Your body was feeling sore, but you kept begging for more. This was too good to stop. Miguel's cock made it's home inside of you.

-------

Miguel gripped your hips as he kept fucking you stupid. Your moans were so loud and sexy that he couldn't hold back. Your pussy was dripping against the bedsheets, coating his cock white. His cum threatening to spill out of your poor pussy.

Your eyes were glossed over with a fucked out expression, drool nearly rolling down your lips. Cursing lowly as Miguel felt you squeezer against his dick again, he tried to control himself. Your body kept begging for more, no matter how fragile you both were now.

"Mig-" You choked, sobbing from pleasure, "M-More...j-just..."

Your words were barely coming out. Miguel frowned at the state you were in, but couldn't refuse. He brought you in for another deep kiss before giving you another heavy load.

--------

A soft groan escaped your lips as you started to wake up. Your vision was blurred, but once you started to come to, you noticed that you were in Miguel's place.

"Hn-" You winced, trying to sit up but couldn't.

"Don't move. You're body is still sore and exhausted. Here's some water," Miguel sighed softly, sitting beside you to give you the drink, "How are you feeling now?"

"M-Miguel," Your voice was low and scratchy, "I-I'm sorry...I...I made you-"

"You didn't make me do anything. I offered to help, besides, I can't resist my poor girlfriend in pain," He cooed, kissing your head.

"Sorry,"

"Just next time, (Y/n), tell me when your heat starts. I want to make sure you get your fill before you come crying to me."

Feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment, you nuzzled against Miguel, agreeing to his offer. Hopefully with Miguel helping you, there will be less heats.

Ha.

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Hope you enjoyed!!!

[jupiterswasphouse]

WASP REVIEW - CAZADORES (FALLOUT: NEW VEGAS)

[Image IDs: Two images of the Cazadores from Fallout: New Vegas, one being a render of the in-game model and the other being an official illustration /End IDs.]

This one's an interesting one! While the vast majority of fictional (non-ant/bee) wasps are based on Vespids such as the paper wasps, yellowjackets, or hornets, the Cazadores of the Fallout universe are based on spider wasps (Pompilidae), more specifically the genus Pepsis, one of two genera of tarantula hawk wasps (the other being Hemipepsis), a set of species that is, in fact, found in the deserts of the southwestern US, in which New Vegas is set.

[Image Source: Wikimedia Commons, Niklas299 | Image ID: A photo of an almost blueish black tarantula hawk wasp with orange and black wings, Pepsis grossa, on a leafy green plant /End IDs.]

They share many of the most famous features of these insects, such as their black coloration, curled antennae (in females, the opposite of paper wasps, whose males are the ones with curls), orange wings (although some species of the aforementioned genera have entirely black wings), and a similar body shape. These wasps also have some features, however, that don't match up with their inspiration, such as their red eyes (in-game), jagged wing shape, and much more pronounced setae (hair/fur), perhaps being adaptations brought on by the extreme radiation of the wastelands, or instead by something else entirely, which we'll be getting to later in this review.

They also have another key difference from their inspiration! Real world spider wasps are solitary and will either create or reuse existing underground burrows, whereas the Cazadores are eusocial! They create basket shaped nests out of an indeterminate material, very similar to the paper nest building hornets or tree-dwelling yellowjackets, but with multiple cells that have individual baskets and entrances, like that of a mud dauber nest.

[Image Sources: Ohio State University, Joe Boggs and Brisbane Insects | Image IDs: Three images, including one render of the Cazadores nest, and two photos of real world nests, those being the paper nest of the bald-faced hornet (actually a type of yellowjacket) and the mud nest of the vase-cell mud dauber /End IDs.]

"Well, why?" is what I asked when I first heard that this solitary wasp was suddenly eusocial, something that's not easily explained even by heavy amounts of fictionalized mutation-inducing radiation. Well, this may be best explained by the work of our resident brain-in-a-jar Think Tank robot, Doctor Borous. His work in the Z-14 Pepsinae DNA Splicing Lab of Big MT is what directly lead to the creation of the Cazadores, potentially having been spliced with the aforementioned hornets, yellowjackets, mud daubers, and possibly many more species, permanently altering their DNA and behaviors!

The idea of this is fairly fantastical, but highly likely in this universe, given Borous' other experiments, which lead to the creation of the Nightstalker, a mix of rattlesnake and coyote DNA.

Doctor Borous himself, meanwhile, seems completely unaware of his creation's prevalence throughout the wastelands of New Vegas' Mojave, content to deny their existence elsewhere and even their ability to reproduce. This fact, of course, is easily proven through the multitude of individuals you find throughout the desert and the eggs you might find alongside them.

[Image ID: A render of the model of a Cazador egg /End ID.]

Our good Doctor claims to have castrated the individuals he had in captivity within the research lab, but this only further goes to show his confident incompetence, implying he either: Heavily botched the procedure, or outright neglected to do so to female specimens.

You may think that these wasps would be incapable of reproducing, should the males be successfully castrated, however, a female wasp can still produce an unfertilized egg. This unfertilized egg, in Hymenoptera, will always contain a male, making it that much more likely to be able to reproduce with the females of its kind, creating fertilized (female) eggs, and thus the cycle continues until you have a desert full of wasps!

Finally, as for their defense techniques, Cazadores seem pretty standard for eusocial wasps, attacking potential threats to the hive when they get too close with repeated stings from multiple individuals, while having a notably higher than normal level of aggression (I would too if I was created by a supremely incompetent yet skilled mad scientist and/or floating brain like Doctor Borous). I have to wonder what their hunting techniques are, and what they go for as well. The adults would presumably still feed on nectar, but, being such large insects, might need to turn things up a notch in terms of what they collect for their young... A tasty radscorpion, perhaps?

In any case, I actually don't doubt a genetically engineered superwasp's ability to incapacitate or kill a human in a few stings, with such a large stinger doing massive mechanical damage to the skin and possibly the internal organs and presumably scaled up venom built to deal with larger creatures!

In conclusion, the Cazadores are fascinating creatures, and, while not entirely accurate to their original inspiration, New Vegas does a fantastic job making them make sense within the world they created, inaccuracies and all, clearly putting some thought into these creatures! Plus I quite appreciate the more unique and fitting choice of inspiration.

-

Overall: 8/10

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This wasp review was suggested by @cupidtheartsy ! Leave your wasp review suggestion in the replies, tags, or askbox!

Make sure to tune in next week when we cover the Zingers from the Donkey Kong series!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Quiet Ones 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: first draft of my final assignment is done, just need to do a few other things for class and I'm pretty much done.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

As night falls, you feel woozy. You don’t know how much longer you can hold out. The boxed macaroni and cheese only made your stomach hurt and you’re pretty much out of water. Tomorrow you might just have to venture outside and hope he’s not around. Somehow, you don’t think he’s ever gone. He seems to always be watching. 

You can’t focus on your book. The edges of your vision are hazy and your head is pounding. You close it and look for something to watch. You just as quickly forget what you’re doing and shut off the television. You’re too weak to make it to the bed. You're tired, you just want to sleep. 

You look at the window before you lay down, then glance down. The light isn’t there yet. Its absence unsettles you. You wouldn’t exactly prefer it was but it not being there makes you wonder if something else is coming. 

You’re too exhausted to worry about it. You close your eyes as you lay flat on the couch. You exhale and let your body relax. The tension is as tiring as anything else. You’re always wound up tight, always waiting, always watching. You just don’t have anything left in you. 

That familiar drifting sensation takes over you. Your eyelids itch and your muscles grow heavy. You slip into your unconscious little by little until your shrouded in a deep unbreakable darkness. You’re not scared or frustrated or happy or sad. You’re just tired. 

The shatter of glasses splices through your momentary escape. You groan as you eyes snap open and you lay in the dimness of your apartment. What happened? The light was on when you passed out. What was that noise? 

You push yourself up to your elbows and look at the window. There’s not green light but something worse. The window is broken. The jagged glass shines with moonlight as shards litter the floor. You sit up all the way and scramble around, unable to make sense through the darkness and your own sluggish perception. 

You reach for the lamp and try to turn it on. On, off, on, off. You shake your head, trying to free yourself from the clouds, and stagger to your feet. You go to the wall and flip the switch for the overhead light. Nothing. The power must be out. You can’t even hear the hum of the fridge. 

A tickle crawls into your throat and you cough. You smell smoke. You go to your desk and feel around for your phone. You wait for it to turn on as the dryness in your nose and throat build. You finally get the flashlight glowing on your cell and shine it around the room. 

The haze isn’t in your mind. The apartment is filling with smoke. You pull your shirt up over your nose and cough again. Your eyes burn as you try to see through the fog. There’s a dark shape on the carpet spewing fumes. What the heck? 

Adrenaline kicks in and instinct has you feet moving before you can think. You can’t breath. The smoke gets thicker as your eyes stream and you rack with coughs. You hit the door with your body, clawing at the lock, fingers aching as you twist back the latch. You waver as you step back, pulling the door inward and stumble into the hall. 

Your feet hit the floor clumsily, flat and thumping, thunderous in the hue of night. You hack again, hand on your chest, and tumble to your knees. You grip your head as the strength drains from your body, seeping away little by little. Are you dying? Is this it? 

You fall onto your side and suck in deep breaths. Your head lolls and your arm falls slack beside you. Your eyes roll up and a black silhouette appears above you. A tongue clicks and a whistle blows out. 

“I didn’t want it to be like this, baby cakes,” the timbre skews in your ears as your lashes close, “don’t worry...” the world shifts beneath you, “daddy’s got you.” 

👄

You don’t dream. You don’t think. You don’t feel. There is only endless black. 

A sliver of light pierces the void. It's too bright. Painfully so. Your eyes slit and you peek out from beneath heavy eyelids. You don’t recognise those walls, the bed is too soft to be yours, and this place doesn’t smell familiar. You take a deep breath and force your eyes open. 

Soft light glows through large panes to your left. The bed on which you lay is swathed in the dull tones of the morning rising just outside. You’re laid beneath blankets, several layers that make you sweat, and a cushy pillow cradles your head, many more litter the bed along the top. There’s too much of everything. 

The ceiling and walls are black, the bed frame too, the silky and dark, with a fluffy zebra print throw across the foot. You can’t see much more as you lay on your back. You might not know where you are but you can certainly figure who brought you there. 

On cue with your consciousness, the opposite the bed opens and you raise your head to watch a shadow enter. It reminds you of another figure, that one rippled with disorientation and impending darkness. He reaches to flip the switch beside the door and the two sconces mounted above the bet light up. 

It’s him. It wouldn’t be anyone else. That stranger from the cafe. Your personal tormentor. The man who calls himself Lloyd and a litany of ridiculous names. 

He stares back at you. You’re struck dumb with the dregs of you unconcscious and disbelief, meanwhile he looks almost giddy. A smile curves his lips under the line of hair and he rubs his palms together as he shifts his weight between his feet. He raises his hands appeasingly. 

“Jellybean, before you scream, please hear me out,” he pleads. 

You couldn’t scream if you tried. You’re too weak. This can’t be happening. Why would you be here? In a nice bed, in a nice room. You should be in some twisted torture chamber or out in the middle of the woods. If he’s going to kill you, he needs to at least be straightforward about. 

He turns and strides over to another door; a closet. He slides it open and tuts as he browses the contents. You can’t see past him. You barely even try as you let your head fall back against the pillow. 

“So, thoughts?” He turns to face you again as he holds up two hangers, “the navy is cute. I like the polka dots and the see throughness here and here, but the pink would bring out your complexion.” 

Your eyes flit down and you gape at the two dresses, one in each hand. You shake your head and blink. You bring a hand up and touch your forehead, a grumble slipping free. 

“You’re right, jellybean, it’s late,” he turns to put the dresses back in the closet, “we can deal with that in the morning. It’s not too far away... just a few hours.” 

He nears the bed and you shrink down, curling your shoulders in as you fold your arms over the blankets. He lowers himself next to you, an elbow in the pillows as he peers down at you. He reaches to touch your cheek and you try to move away. He barely seems to notice as he strokes your face. 

“I’ve just been so excited I can’t sleep,” he drags his knuckle around lightly, “but I didn’t want to wake you up. You need to rest. After everything you’ve been through.” He brings his legs up onto the bed and wiggles down to his side, “I know you don’t take care of yourself like you should, baby face, but that’s okay, because you have me now.” 

“Why... are you doing this?” You wisp out. 

He laughs, “you’re so funny...” he pets your chin, “and cute and...” he trails his hand down and squeezes your shoulder, “small. You’re adorable.” 

“Please,” you groan. 

“Why am I doing what?” He asks coyly, “why am I taking care of you? Why am I ready to give you everything? Why am I dying just to hear your voice and see your face and...” he stops and leans in, giving a deep sniff, “smell your hair?” 

You want to shrivel up. Your lip quivers as the daze recedes and the fear sets in. He’s delusional and you have no way out. You don’t even know where you are. It hardly matters, you doubt you could get very far. 

“You’re right. We should sleep. We have tomorrow to get settled in,” he reaches back to flip the light switch next to the bed, dimming the sconces back to black.  

He lifts himself to free the blankets from beneath him and sidles under them. He nestles close as you go rigid. He slips his arm under you as he nuzzles your cheek. 

“And every day after that. We have a whole lifetime ahead of us, jellybean. Me and you. Together forever...” he stretches his other arm over your stomach, “I never liked fairy tales before, babes. Not til you.” 

You close your eyes. You’re tired but there’s no way you’re falling back asleep. This is a waking nightmare. 

👄

The man, Lloyd, starts to snore. You feel his muscles relax and feel his breath steady against you. As much as you want to push him away and run, you can’t. You don’t know what it is. It’s akin to sleep paralysis. You’re awake but you can’t fight what’s happening. Something in your mind tells you it’s futile. 

The sun rise on the other side of the large windows. In any other circumstance, you would admire a place like this. The sleek furniture, the luxurious blankets, the expansive view. It’s a far cry from your cramped apartment and its small windows. 

You can only wallow in helpless self-pity. How did this happen? How did you let it happen? If you hadn’t been so indulgent, you would’ve never been seen. You should’ve known better than to go down to that cafe and splurge on something so menial. You could have made your own tea. You could’ve stayed inside, stayed safe. 

His closeness has you sweating. It’s uncomfortable and itchy. You want to rip your skin off. 

He moves and you hold your breath. He’s waking up. That can’t be good. At least asleep, he can’t do much. You curl your fingers into your palm and wait. 

“Mmm,” he leans in and brushes the tip of his nose against your cheek before planting a kiss, his mustache tickles, “this is heaven. I can’t...” he pushes himself up, planting his hand on the mattress, “I can’t believe this is real. You’re really here.” 

You look at him, almost glaring as you let your distress burn through. He doesn’t even notice as he rubs your arm and his blue eyes dance over you. Laying next to him as he looms over you, his size is more obvious. He’s much bigger than you. 

“Coffee?” He asks, “I got this new dark roast. All the way from Colombia. I haven’t even tried it. I’ve been waiting on you. Bet it’s much better than that InstaCafe.” 

You blink at him. All your fears are coming true. It’s not that he’s snatched you, it that he’s been watching you. You might never know how long but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change this moment. 

“And breakfast, if you’re hungry. I know you usually skip that but--” 

“Please stop,” you croak, “please...” 

“What? Honey, I’m just trying to show you all I can do for you. You don’t have to do all the work anymore. Staring at a screen is bad for your eyes. And your posture.” 

“I... I didn’t mind...” 

“Ah, that’s just you. You’re a hard worker. Resilient. You do what needs to be done. You don’t complain and you don’t make demands. Baby, you don’t have to. Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you without you even asking.” 

“I liked... being alone. I want to be alone,” your breath hitches between words as panic pulses in your chest. 

“Do you want to be alone or do you not know what it’s like to have someone? Jellybean, I’m scared too. You’re the first girl I’ve had in my bed that made it past dawn. Hell, the first girl I didn’t... you know,” he gives a crooked grin. 

Your lips part as you stare at him, dumbfounded. Sure, he didn’t do more than forcibly cuddle you but it doesn’t change what he did do. You shake your head and sputter as you search for words. 

“You followed me.” 

“I kept you safe,” he insists. 

“You turned my water off. I...” 

“That’s what the IV is for,” he reaches over to touch your other arm. You don’t know how you didn’t notice the tubing before. “I brought you tea. All you had to do was open up--” 

“You threw something through my window... there was smoke...” your lashes flutter as the memories creep back in. 

“I did what had to be done,” his grin falls away and his expression turns stony, “what you made me do.” 

You stare at him, speechless. 

“I haven’t given you any reason not to trust you. I mean, all you had to do was have a coffee with me. Or even open your door. Honey, I should be mad at you. You hung me out to dry but I can forgive you,” his face softens again, “how can I not?” His eyes go doey, “you’re so beautiful.” 

You lay there, unmoving. You feel as if any suddenness might trigger him. He traces along your cheek and jaw and down your neck, “did you decide?” 

You narrow your eyes and frown. 

“A dress? Blue or pink?” 

You don’t answer him. You just look at him as he continues to touch you. Your skin speckles with goosebumps as a chill rolls through you. 

“You know what, neither. I get it. You want something more classy. Yeah, given the occasion, I think you’re right, baby face,” he leans over you and looks you in the eye, “we’ll have a look in the closet after breakfast.” 

Before you can react, his lips are on yours. You let out a surprised squeak as he holds your chin in place. His mustache tickles you again and his tongue flits across your lips, wetting them just slightly before retracting. He pulls away and sighs. 

“Wow.” 

[retrogamer2099]

Retro_G is back with another art cover for the Sega Genesis game "Beast Wrestler". In the story mode the player uses bio-engineered monsters to compete against other "Dragon Warriors" in wrestling competitions. This was a great concept back in it's day. Someone should reinvent this game with today's tech. Like comment and subscribe! THX.

[transgenderer]

All cells with mitochondria have a nucleus, all cells with a nucleus have mitochondria (or denegerated former mitochondria). It's not obvious that this should be so. In general, you should get branching after every trait (ofc this isn't always the case). If organisms with trait A are successful then there should be enough of them to branch. If they require trait B to be successful, trait A shouldn't have reached fixation in the first place, unless they were both caused by the same genetic modification.

Nick lanes theory, in the vital question, is that the mitochondria *directly* caused the development of the nucleus. If you're an archeon with bacteria living inside you, and one of them dies, it's membrane will dissolve and release its genetic material. You're an archeon, so you're used to doing lateral gene transfer, and will copy it's code into yours. This code has a poison and it's antidote

Bacterial genetic code has self-replicating parasitic genes. these genes are adapted to their bacterial host and splice themselves out before transcription. bacteria face strong selection to pare down their genome, so they dont have very many of these. but if you suddenly acquire a huge amount of bacterial genetic code, the parasites therein, not adapted to you, will put themselves in all sorts of bad places. then, because you dont face very strong selection, if these codes mutate in a way that breaks their ability to copy themselves, and splice themselves out before transcription, youll have a bunch of faulty genes. these dead regions are called introns. this is a huge problem! you can develop a protein to splice them out "manually", called the spliceosome, but it works slowly, too slowly to get them all fixed before they reach the ribosome to be made into proteins

HOWEVER, this bacterial code will also have a bunch of genetic code for bacterial membranes. the archeon will start producing a bunch of extra membrane enzymes, which will go around producing extra membranes. without adaptations to handle these, theyll just build up. around where theyre produced. lipids naturally form into closed surfaces in solution, so you'd end up with a bunch of lipid "bags" around your genome. but those bags are the solution to your intron problem! they impede the diffusion of the rna from the genome to the ribosome, giving the spliceosome time to work.

eventually (its theorized) these lipid bags evolved into an enclosed double membrane with pore membranes, but during mitosis they split into discrete lipid bags again!

[yandere-daydreams]

For context, imma give you a little Spider-Man 2099 fact from the Spider-Man comics if you didn’t know about it already.

Before becoming Spider-Man, Miguel was injected by this drug called Rapture, a super addictive drug with really bad withdrawal symptoms, like you will feel like dying without taking it constantly symptoms. He was the top geneticist for Alchemax and he wanted to quit but the cooperation wouldn’t allow that, so they injected him so that he would have no choice but to be reliant on them and continue to work for them since they were the only ones that were distributing rapture. (It was actually due to him getting his spider abilities that he was cure; he had his DNA rewritten with spider DNA so he’s technically genetically half spider).

So basically Miguel injects you with rapture. So predictably you become more and more difficult, as he puts it. One day he offhandedly shows you a little vial in his lab that was used to turn him into Spider-Man, he drops little hints here and there that it’s what cured him of rapture. So it’s no surprise to him that you start acting so docile and pleasant soon after, your attempt to lower his guard are welcomed when he gets to cuddle you. So he lets you sneak into his lab when you think he’s away on a mission. It’s when you take the vail and inject yourself do your hopes for freedom start to dwindle when you feel a broad chest on your back and a pair of fans in you neck the next second. While the contents in the vail cured you of rapture, he also made it so that it acts as an aphrodisiac when it’s mixed with DNA; (injections of any sort are the fastest way to get anything going through your system, so the Miguel-activated-aphrodisiac binds with your cells really fast when you first inject it into your system), so whenever he bites you, your cells react almost immediately to his DNA and it turns into any season is mating season, Aka Miguel never beating the vampire allegations.

Ah sorry for the messy writing, English isn’t really my strong suite but you get the picture.

tw - dub//con, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, manipulation through drug addiction.

oof,,, miguel knows first-hand how devastating rapture can be, so i'd like to think that he injected you with it in a moment of desperation, just thinking about the high and the wanting and how badly he needs you to give into him, even if he knows you'll be twice as difficult once the withdrawal hits. his plan to splice your dna, to cure you the only way he knows someone can be cured of a rapture addiction is an act of mercy in his mind, too. he can't keep you high and strung out forever, so he lets you believe there's an antidote, lets you think that he doesn't suspect anything when you suddenly start behaving and treating him like the hero he wants to be, rather than the captor he is, lets you sneak out of his bedroom in the middle of the night and into his lab, where his 'rapture cure' was conveniently left in plain-sight beside a syringe gun already prepared for injection. he lets you think that your alright, now, that you've escaped the worst thing he's ever done.

and then, he drives his fangs into your neck, holding you close as you go through the motions, as you realize that your body's reaction to him isn't something you can drown out with terror and loathing and fear, anymore. you haven't been cured, he just replaced one addiction with another and now, you're as reliant on him as he is on you. it's not love, but it feels close enough as you claw at his chest and pant against his neck, as you promise to behave and to follow his rules and to do whatever he wants, as long as he takes care of you. as you promise to love him, as long as he takes care of you.

[hellsite-proteins]

Are there ways to actually "program" cells to produce these proteins? Like if you fed ribosomes the right RNA sequence, would it synthesize a bullshit protein molecule that does nothing useful, or would it start falling apart immediately in reality? My knowledge on DNA splicing is old and I know near nothing about proteins so I'm just curious if it'd ever be possible to get a real world representation of anything on your blog (setting aside the cost and effort it would take to do that)

yes there is! and you actually got pretty close, but you have to go a bit further back and use DNA (there are ways of delivering RNA to cells, but I haven't done that personally, and for something like protein purification that would not be the method of choice, so I won't be going into that. there are two main ways of inserting coding DNA into cells: using a transient expression plasmid and gene editing. note: all of these will be very brief overviews, so if you want more detail about any part of this, then please ask!

first i'll go over the simpler method which is using plasmids. i've been doing a lot of molecular cloning lately specifically to put proteins into expression vectors so i can purify them and do some work with the pure protein, which is what i assume you would want to do here. (sidetone: once you have some purified protein, there are a number of different things you can do to find out its sequence or structure, but that is a whole other post). plasmids are circular bits of DNA outside of the genome that are not necessary for survival, but carry useful information. most of the ones used in labs will also have an antibiotic resistance gene or some other marker so we can select for only the cells with the plasmid by growing them in media with the right drug. using specific enzymes, we can cut these plasmids and then insert a new fragment of DNA coding for whatever we want, before sealing them back up. Then, a small amount of the plasmid can be transformed into cells (bacteria and yeast are commonly used), which will multiply and make more of your plasmid, as well as whatever it encodes if the conditions are right!

Genome editing is a broad topic, so i'm just going to give you a quick overview of CRISPR-Cas9, which I have a bit of experience with. this isn't something i would do if i just wanted to make a lot of a given protein, but it is useful to look at how much of a protein is made under the native expression system within a cell, or to edit the sequence of a protein being made (and much more...). Cas9 makes a cut in both strands of genomic DNA, but the really neat thing about this is that you can easily tell it specifically where to cut. to do this, you will build a plasmid with the gene for the Cas9 protein, as well as the guide RNA matching the sequence where you want the cut to be. there are other design considerations, but i'll save that for now. once the DNA has been cut, the cell starts to panic and try and stick it back together, but not before some random bases get added and/or deleted from either of the broken ends. this is useful if you want to knock out a gene, because you can go in and mess up its promoter or something similar so that it never gets made. if that is too messy and random, or if you want to knock something in instead of knocking it out, you can also take advantage of the cell's repair mechanisms. if a double stranded break happens, the cell would prefer to fix it properly, and so it will try and remake the DNA using the other matching chromosome as a template. but, if you add in another plasmid instead that contains sequences matching either side of the break with something you want to add in sandwiched in between them, you can make the DNA repair itself with your new sequence!

finally, all of this assumes that the protein would be successfully translated, and would not be so toxic to cells that anything expressing it dies. we would need to add a methionine (start) to the beginning of nearly all of these sequences, and ideally codon optimize them for the specific organism. ordering the custom DNA sequences also wouldn't be cheap, but is also not impossible. an inducible expression system would also help reduce the risk of toxicity and let us make a lot at once if we so desired. we would probably also want to add a tag to make these easier to purify if we wanted to use the protein itself.

again i am not great at being brief and i have no idea how much the average person knows about any of this, so please ask more if anything i've said needs clarification!

letter sequence in this ask matching protein-coding amino acids:

AretherewaystactallyprgramcellstprdcetheseprteinsLikeifyfedrismestherightRNAseqencewlditsynthesieallshitprteinmleclethatdesnthingseflrwlditstartfallingapartimmediatelyinrealityMyknwledgenDNAsplicingisldandIknwnearnthingatprteinssImstcrisifitdeverepssiletgetarealwrldrepresentatinfanythingnyrlgsettingasidethecstandeffrtitwldtaketdthat

protein guy analysis:

you know that feeling when you're writing a test and aren't really sure what the answer is, but you try and put down everything you know in the hopes of getting some part marks? i feel like that's what this protein looks like. there is an assortment of secondary structures all spread out between loops and even a beta sheet, as if AlphaFold was trying its best to make something out of this. still, it doesn't look the way we would expect from an ordered protein, and i do not trust it.

predicted protein structure:

[weskie]

ohhh my gosh autistic wesker? whose special interest is virology? yes!!

i also agree that that’s why he likes his sunglasses and gloves, but i also imagine that it’s part of the reason why his expression is usually quite neutral. i usually get “are you okay?” or “are you upset?” quite a lot due to my blank-ish face.

also a bit dirty about the gloves — i think he definitely has a thing for them. i think the contrast of them on skin (texture, mostly, but also color contrast on pale skin) really gets to him. i think maybe he prefers surgical/medical gloves for messy play though, since something tells me he wouldn’t want his “soiled”.

the thought of listening to him go on and on about why he decided to classify uroboros into a specific family of viruses, which cells will host it, how and what he spliced the original strain with to lower the fatality rate a smidge and so on until it turns into a whole lesson in virology for you- sdfghjkl I'M PLEADINGGG. imagine just smiling at him the whole time and seeing how he gets more invested in telling you because he thinks you're just as interested as he is - and maybe you are, but that smile is because he's so darn passionate 🥹

also... g l o v e s

thinking about how his hands would look in exam gloves has me LOSING IT i'm-... . i gotta go sit down lmAOO