#very professional scientist here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

improbable-outset · 26 days

Text

📄 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.1k

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Secret mutual pinning, angst, emotional turmoil, mentions of insecurities, EVENTUAL SMUT, confessional sex, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v sex, long distance relationship

𝐀/𝐍: I didn’t expect this to be so long. Also hey @lazyjellyfish300 remember this blurb?? We’ve got the smut🥳

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Saying goodbye to you wasn’t part of Miguel’s plan. As you prepare to leave Alchemax for a prestigious new role, Miguel struggles with the realisation that he’s about to lose more than just a colleague.

“What are you doing?”

Miguel watched intently as you packed away your belongings in a box, clearing up your workstation. It wasn’t just a casual clean up— this looked like something more final.

You meticulously removed the photos from the wall, gathered your notes, and neatly stacked your research papers. The once vibrant workstation, full of personality, now looked eerily bare.

“Clearing my work station.” you said matter-of-factory. His chest felt heavy with uneasy tension, a sense of foreboding growing with each second.

“Yeah, I got that much, genius,” he shot back, stepping closer and stopping right next to your desk. “Why are you clearing your desk?”

You turned to face him wordlessly, his question only carrying more weight between the two of you like an unwelcome guest. His mouth went dry as he locked eyes with you.

Up close, you always managed to take his breath away, a quiet beauty that never failed to stir something deep within him. But today, there was a different kind of tension in the air, a sense of finality that he couldn’t grasp.

“Well?” he prodded, though he had a sinking feeling that whatever was going to unfold would change everything.

“Well uhm…I put in my two weeks notice today.”

He almost choked at your words. This was worse than he anticipated. He thought maybe you were moving to a different workstation, not leaving the company entirely.

“What?” his voice was barely a whisper. He could feel his pulse thundering in his ears. You were leaving— he was losing you.

“I’ve been offered a lead geneticist position at another company. But it’s in Raleigh, so…I’m gonna have to move.”

You had worked as a research scientist at Alchemax for several years, and because of the nature of your work, you and Miguel collaborated on a daily basis.

Discussing experimental results, debating research protocols— it all came so naturally. Over time, what began as a professional respect grew into something more personal. And now, that bond was about to be severed.

You were leaving for a bigger, fancier job in North Carolina. The thought twisted something deep inside him and he struggled to keep himself together.

“I can’t turn it down. I’ve busted my ass on the application and the whole interview process.”

“Congrats…” The word came out strangled, forced through clenched teeth. Trying to talk without being overwhelmed with emotions was like trying to hold back a flood with a paper dam.

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.” you half-joked, but there was a note of concern in your voice.

You were right, his response wasn’t the best cover-up for his true feelings. The mere idea of you leaving filled him with dread, despair and most of all, jealousy.

“Of course I’m happy for you. I know you’ve been working hard— you deserve the opportunity.” He managed to hide most of his turmoil behind a cold wall of control. But deep down, the words felt hollow.

He knew he had no right to feel this way. You had every right to leave, to seize this incredible opportunity. This wasn’t something that came around often, and he didn’t want to be the one to hold you back.

You set the box down on the desk— the box that held all your belongings. “I’ll still be here for another two weeks.”

“Two weeks…” he echoed, the words sticking in his throat like a curse.

Two weeks. How was that enough time to prepare for losing you? What was he supposed to do after that? Just accept that you were gone? His heart couldn’t take that.

“I’ll visit Nueva York whenever I get the chance,” you said, trying to sound reassuring.

“You better. You’re not allowed to just drop off the face of the earth once you’re gone…” it was getting harder to keep his tone light.

“Of course…Nueva York and Alchemax aren't going to leave my mind anytime soon.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of us every now and then…and I’m certain this place won’t forget you…”

“I doubt it.” you scoffed, a bit of edge to your voice. “The higher ups will probably replace me before I even step foot in North Carolina.”

Miguel’s heart sank at the thought, though he knew there was some truth to it. The idea of someone else taking your place, of your work station filled with notes and projects by another rando, was too much to bear.

He could already picture the empty space where your personal touch used to shine through, replaced by some faceless new hire who was unaware how amazing you were

“Yeah, knowing them, they’ve probably already written up your job description, listing your position open for applications.” he sighed solemnly.

The company never had the best moral compass when it came to their employees, and would replace anyone that wasn’t serving their needs in a heartbeat.

“It’s okay, I’m sure I’ve left my mark here, even if I feel like I didn’t do much.”

Miguel almost let out a laugh in disbelief. You were always such a hard-worker, always a quick-thinker. You had single-handedly helped him out more times than he could count.

Another company had even recognised your talent and wanted you to work for them…yet you still doubted your capabilities.

“Are you serious? You’re irreplaceable. You’ve saved my ass more times than I could remember.” His voice was firm now, desperate to make you see things from his view.

“Mhmm.” You hummed. “Now, I’ll soon be the lead geneticist in another company, just like you.”

The enthusiasm in your tone was impossible to miss, and it reflected in your eyes. It should have made Miguel happy for you, and in a way, it did.

But the guilt still gnawed at him, guilt that he couldn’t match your excitement. Deep down, all he wanted was for you to stay, for purely selfish reasons.

“Yeah…just like me.” he repeated your words, the tiniest edge of bitterness creeping into his voice.

You didn’t seem to notice. “I guess all those late nights of research finally paid off. And all your teachings too.”

Miguel recalled all those nights together— just the two of you, the lab quiet save for the hum of machines and the scratch of pen on paper.

Mundane tasks became memorable simply because you were there. The memories sent a shiver up his spine, a bittersweet reminder of what he was about to lose.

It was a painful realisation that not everything lasts forever, especially the good things.

“Don’t count all this success as being attributed to just me, you did a lot of studying, too.” he chuckled lightly. “You really put in the hard work…you earned it.”

But even as he spoke, the words tasted bitter. Even if he was proud of you, it didn’t make the ache in his chest any less potent.

He glanced back at the box on your desk. No one could replace you— not in the lab, and certainly not in his life.

“But, I wouldn’t be here without you, so I have to give you some credit.” you smiled warmly. “If I ever win an award in this field and they make me stand on those podiums and talk to a huge audience, I’ll be sure to mention your name.”

Miguel felt his stomach flip at your words. He was at a loss for words. You’d mention his name if you won an award? He didn’t realise he had made such an impact on you— to be someone you viewed as admirable enough to acknowledge publicly.

The thought alone could possibly make him faint. To have his name mentioned in such a light by you…it was almost too much to handle.

He swallowed thickly. “Ah…you don’t have to go that far. I’m just some scientist,” he said coolly, though his pulse quickened. “Really, you’re gonna go places, make a name for yourself— you don’t need to credit me.”

“But I will. You've been a big part of my career here,” you insisted.

Your words hit Miguel square in the chest. You were adamant about recognising his role in your life. It was almost overwhelming, the way you considered him to be that much of an integral part of you.

He forced out a playful scoff, hoping to mask the surge of emotions rising in him.

“Yeah, I guess I helped you with some projects…but don’t go listing me as some co-author in your resume.”

You laughed softly. “Don’t worry, I know my limits.”

The next few days felt like treading on thin ice, where one wrong move could crack the fragile tension between the two of you.

Since the day you told him you were leaving, you’ve been unusually reserved, quieter than usual— a shift that didn’t go unnoticed by Miguel.

The sudden change in your energy tightened the coil of anxiety in his chest, and it was made worse by his inability to figure out why you were acting this way.

Whenever he would look your way, you always seemed distracted, lost in thought. Your responses were always brief and you would only speak when spoken to.

Miguel couldn’t help but feel concerned over you, but he was hesitant to ask you about it, not wanting to intrude or overstep any boundaries.

One evening, you both found yourselves working late again in his lab alone. The atmosphere was quiet— filled with the soft sounds of typing and the occasional shuffle of papers.

Miguel couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at you. You were staring at your work, but he could tell your focus was elsewhere, lost in your own thoughts that were weighing you down.

As the evening wore on, the solitude of the lab and the waning hours seemed to offer the right moment. His concern outweighed his hesitation, and he turned his chair to face you.

“You’ve been quiet all day. Is everything okay?” He asked gently.

You looked up at him from your papers. The lightning highlighted the tiredness in your eyes, your expression weary and distant.

“Yeah, just thinking.” you mused.

“Is it about leaving? Are you upset?”

He could see the hesitation in your face, your eyes darting away from him and focused on the desk in front of you. “It’s not about leaving…well, maybe it is, in a way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking about how I’ve been in relationships…you know, what I wanted, what I didn’t get. I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’ve been asking for too much.”

Miguel blinked, taken back by your admission. He hadn’t expected that, but now that you brought it up, he was curious to know more.

“Too much? What could you possibly have asked for that was too much?”

“Just…little things. Being held, feeling safe, someone who actually listens after a long day,” you replied. He didn’t miss the tinge of bitterness in your voice. “I thought those were normal things to want, but it was like… like they were a burden to give.”

Hearing you feel so unappreciated made his chest tighten with frustration. How could someone make you think you were asking for too much? You deserved everything you asked for and more.

“That’s not too much to ask. It’s not a burden— it’s what you deserve.”

This wasn’t a passing thought; it was clear you’d been hurt before. The idea that someone had made you feel unworthy of love you craved infuriated him.

If you were with him, you wouldn’t even have to ask for that. He’d give you everything you wanted, and then some.

You let out a tired sigh, still not fully convinced by his words. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever find that. Or I’m chasing something unrealistic.”

No, don’t think that.

“You deserve someone who will give you all of that.”

You looked up at him. He could tell his words resonated with you when he saw something hopeful in your eyes. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he said— he kept his tone low, hiding the fierce enthusiasm he felt. He could go on about everything you deserved, but he didn’t want to come off as desperate. “And if you have found it yet, it’s not because you’re asking too much.”

There was so much more he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to do— but he held himself back. He wanted to pull you into his embrace, just to share your warmth.

He wasn’t going to confess to you, that wasn’t the smartest move. Instead he pushed his feelings down for your sake, and pretended his love for you was just platonic.

“Are you in a relationship?” you asked suddenly.

Miguel had to hold himself back from giving a puzzled look. You’ve worked together for years now— wasn't it obvious that he was single? Maybe he’d been too vague about his love life, that was probably why you were asking.

He thought that by never mentioning a partner, it made him seem more available to you. But it seems you’ve overlooked that.

Not that he was inexperienced. He had his fair share of relationships— some short-lived, others too casual to be called serious.

They were a balance of good and bad, each leaving him with lessons to learn.

But he could confidently say that none of them had ever made him feel the way you did. He longed to express that with you, to tell you why you had his heart wrapped around your finger. But he knew that would only complicate things more.

“No…haven’t been in one in a while.”

And you’re the reason, he wanted to add.

“What about you? Found anyone special yet?” A small part of him dreaded to hear you answer, even if either response wouldn’t serve him any good.

“No.”

If you weren’t leaving the company, that answer would’ve brought him joy. But now, knowing that you were available it made the situation more poignant— a reminder that he had missed his chance.

Ironically, it would’ve given him more clarity if you said yes.

He had gotten used to concealing his true feelings since the day you told him that you’ve given your two weeks notice. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

So he offered you a reassuring smile instead, “Don’t worry. You’ll find someone who will cherish you the way you deserve.”

I’m right over here.

From the look of your face lifting up, he knew he managed to sound convincing and encouraging.

“I do have my eyes on someone though…” you added.

Your words echoed in his head and wrapped around his throat like a vice. A storm of emotions hit him all at once, leaving him struggling to navigate through the confusion.

On one hand, he was dying to know who you were referring to. On the other, he felt shattered that someone else managed to make their way into your heart and he wasn’t even aware of it.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking. “Oh really? What are they like?”

Each question he asked felt like digging himself deeper into a pit he might never climb out of. Even while he forced himself to act neutral, it was hard to predict when the nonchalant facade would eventually crack.

You let out a sheepish laugh before answering. ”Well…he’s pretty tall,”

Miguel’s mind raced through every tall colleague he could think of, analysing every conversation you’d had with them, and trying to think back to any clues that would give away your feelings for them.

Miguel knew he was probably being overly cautious, but his instincts flared up. It wasn’t just his jealousy— though there was no denying that he was feeling a tinge of envy— but he didn’t want to see you get hurt by anyone.

Especially after what you revealed to him earlier. But he brought those thoughts to the side for a moment and continued to listen to you.

“He’s… a little grumpy but that’s what adds to his charm,” you added. There was something reflecting in your eyes, a sparkle that he couldn’t quite grasp, but he dismissed it.

Grumpy? You found that charming? He thought back to all those times you had called him grumpy.

His stomach fluttered as he felt a new sense of hope. But he didn’t let that sway his judgment and got optimistic too quickly.

“What else do you like about him?” Miguel asked. Deep down, Miguel felt a change of heart and he was desperate to know more, hoping that there was even the slightest chance that it might be him.

“He’s always there when I need him, even though he tries to hide it, he secretly has a heart of gold.”

You were killing him, little by little, with every answer you were giving him. It was all the qualities he was proud to have, yet he still felt doubtful.

He managed a small smile, trying to hide the longing in his heart. “Sounds like a good man. I’m sure he’s lucky to have your affection.”

“Yeah. I really hope he feels the same. Otherwise, all those coffees I gave him would be a waste,” you let out a sigh, clearly lost in thought about the man you admired.

You couldn’t have been more obvious. His heart fluttered as he recalled all those coffees you would give him in the mornings, especially during your joint projects.

Thank the stars that he was a master at keeping a tight lid on his feelings. There was no way he was going to let his excitement show— not yet, not until he was sure

“Those coffees?” he asked. “Why do you give them to him?”

“I was hoping I’d stand out to him and not just be a colleague he sits with.”

“Stand out? What other things are you willing to do?”

“Maybe offer to help with his paperwork— if he doesn’t mind.”

Miguel couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but his heart swelled with happiness with each word. You wanted to stand out to him. Offer to do his paperwork.

You didn’t have to do all of that to get his attention; he had eyes on you for a long time, but all these little things you did were an added bonus.

“Do you think I should buy him more coffee?” you asked, you gaze locked with him, searching for his approval. You were asking for his opinion too.

“Coffee’s a good ice breaker. Maybe you could add a little note too, I bet he’ll notice you after that,” he kept his tone casual, but Miguel couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his lips.

You looked so eager, willing to take whatever advice. After all, if you were talking about him, you’d take his advice even more seriously, right? It only made sense.

“Maybe you could ask him out on a casual date, nothing too big. Just to see how he reacts,” he teased, way too excited with how you’ll respond.

Will you ask him out now?

“You know…I think I’ll call him now,” you got up to leave the room.

Everything came crashing down on him in an instant. His heart shattered, taking all his hopes with it. So, you weren’t talking about him after all.

“Ah, alright…good luck with that,” he tried to maintain a neutral tone, but the strain in his voice betrayed him.

The weight of his unrequited love pressed heavily on his chest, it was almost palpable. Each step you took away felt like a knife twisting deeper into his heart.

How could he have been so foolish? Of course, it wouldn’t be him.

From the sound of your footsteps, you walked a few doors down, away from his earshot. You probably didn’t want him to overhear.

Sadness and disappointment surrounded him like a suffocating fog as he slumped back at his desk. He hadn’t heard from you in half an hour.

You were either working up the courage to call your love interest or caught in an extended conversation. But what he didn’t expect was to see your name pop up on his phone screen when his phone rang.

Although he didn’t want to hear how your conversation went, he still wanted to be supportive. He loved you too much to ruin your happiness.

He cleared his throat, bracing himself for whatever you had to say, expecting to have his heart shattered again, before picking up the phone. “Hello?”

“Oh, don’t say ‘hello’ like you haven’t saved my number,” you teased.

Miguel forced out a chuckle, trying to match your lightheartedness. “You got me there. Of course I have your number saved. So, how did it go?” he asked, his voice filled with forced anticipation, even as his heart pounded in his chest.

“Well, that guy I was talking about earlier…”

You left the sentence hanging, as if daring him to grasp the meaning. Miguel cleared his throat, keeping his composure and hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his pain. “Go on…what happened?”

There was a pause that went on for a few seconds, but it was enough to make his stomach twist as he waited for your response. Finally, you spoke.

“Well, did you know that it was you and were just acting clueless? Or did you not pick that up, yet?” you asked.

Miguel froze, the words processed in his mind. For a moment, he was stunned into silence, his grip tightening around the phone near his ear. His mind replayed the conversation you had just shared to see if he missed anything.

Then, a small smile slowly crept on his face, a mix of disbelief and dawning realisation. Now, hearing you confirm that it was true, he couldn’t hide his relief and the warmth that spread across his chest.

“I…uh…had…my suspicions,” he stuttered, his voice thick with emotion. “But hearing you say it now…it means more than you know.”

He paused for a moment, realising he might be sounding too eager, too vulnerable. “But what did you mean when you said ‘did you not pick that up’? Was it…was it not obvious that I had feelings for you too?”

“No, actually.”

A soft sigh of relief escaped Miguel’s lips. He’d tried so hard to keep his feelings for you hidden, fearing rejection to avoid an awkward situation that might follow, especially with you leaving the city.

But knowing now that he hadn’t been as obvious he feared— that you hadn’t noticed— was a strange comfort. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder how things might have been different if he’d confessed first. Would he have had the courage? Probably not, even with your imminent departure.

“Well…now that we both know how we feel, what does that mean for us? Are you…happy that I have feelings for you too?”

“Duh.”

Miguel let out a chuckle at your blasé response. The tension in his chest from earlier was starting to ease, allowing him to bask in the moment.

But the reality of your limited time here was starting to set in, dulling his joy with a stab of regret.

“So…you’re still leaving, huh?” he couldn’t hide the solemn tone in his voice.

“Yeah, I am. But that doesn’t mean this has to end before it starts.”

His heart stuttered at that. “You really think we could make it work.”

“If we both want it, I don’t see why not.” The determination in your voice was palpable, even through the phone. It made him feel more desired than ever.

“I want it. More than anything. And right now, I really want to kiss you.”

“Hold on, let me come to you,” you hung up the phone and Miguel could hear your footsteps getting closer.

Once you finally arrived, you looked back up at him. Miguel could see the eagerness and the tinge of mischief in your eyes.

“Kiss me please.”

At that moment, he knew there was no use waiting any longer. His lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this alive.

He couldn’t believe this was really happening, he had always dreamed of this moment but now that he was experiencing it in person, it felt too surreal to be real.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as his lips moved lovingly against yours. Breaking the kiss, he took a moment to study your face.

He wanted to kiss you again, to tell you sweet nothings that he had been holding back for so long. But he knew he had to compose himself and give you a moment to breathe.

“Lock the doors,” your voice echoed in his mind, sending his mind into a frenzy. He chuckled but still obliged, giving you both a newfound privacy.

Everything else felt like a blur and the next moment, he was unbuttoning your shirt and tossing it to the side. He didn’t waste any time doing the same to your pants.

His throat went dry when he noticed the wet patch on your undies, a sign that you were just as turned on as he was.

Just as infatuated.

It drove him crazy. As he leaned in, he felt your hands hike up under his shirt too. He took this as a sign to remove it, his toned body now in full view. His muscle’s glistened under the light.

He pressed your bare chest against his— the raw feeling of your skin against his was pure ecstasy. He lifted your body with ease and set you on a clear desk.

His body was still pressed against yours as he kissed over your neck and down your collar bone. He felt so lucky to have you in his arms like this, even better in his lab.

You were finally his…

He knelt down between your legs, his hands caressing over each thigh. His lips found your inner thigh, kissing over your skin, dangerously close to your core.

It was his ultimate goal to memorise every curve and crevice of your skin, what made you tick and all your favourite spots you liked to be touched. He wanted to savour this moment as much as he could.

His tongue slowly ran over your soaked cunt, finally getting a taste of you. Immediately, you gasped and your legs twitched in response.

You tasted incredible, or maybe that was just the heat of the moment. He continued to pleasure you with his mouth, his tongue tracing delicious, slow patterns around your sensitive bud.

He heard you gasp out his name which motivated to continue. His hand reached up to intertwine with yours, his touch grounding and tender as he continued to pleasure you with his mouth.

“Oh God…right there, Miguel—”

Your free hand reached into his scalp and gently tugged on his curls. Feeling your hips grinding against his tongue only drove him further, desperate to coax your orgasm.

That’s it…

Give yourself to me.

He knew the moment you reached your peak when he felt you tighten your grip on his hair and cry out his name. Seeing the way you threw your head back in the throes of your climax sent an overwhelming shiver through his body— a sensation he couldn’t describe.

Your body convulsed against his mouth as you squirted on his tongue— and he licked you clean eagerly. Finally, he pulled his mouth away, his tongue leaving your body with a final, tantalising flick.

He ran his fist across his mouth to rid your wetness before rising up to his feet. You were completely spent, your body limp and your breath came out ragged.

Your legs were still shaking from your fresh release. He couldn’t help but glide over your cheeks, his thumb tracing over your cheekbone.

He felt you lean into his touch as he savoured the feel of your skin beneath his fingers.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours.

You let out a shaky laugh, catching your breath. “Like this? All sweaty and musty? You must really love me then…”

Only you would throw a sarcastic comment after he ate you out. After a moment of stillness, you came down from your high. He spread your legs apart as he hovered over you on the desk.

The precum that leaked from his tip mixed with your wetness as he positioned his tip over your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself in and was immediately overwhelmed by your cushiony grip over his tip.

Your fingers gripped onto his biceps, keeping yourself steady as he pushed further. Once he bottomed out, you lifted your head to see the light bulge on your belly.

A sense of pride washed over him, seeing your eyes feast on the lewd sight of him filling you up. Every inch of him was all yours.

He dragged himself out with your wetness coating his dick before pushing back in again. His body moved against yours in a perfect harmony, every motion was driven to heighten the pleasure between the two of you.

As the ecstasy reached a new height, Miguel’s body trembled slightly. He couldn’t resist letting out a soft moan followed by your name, his voice filled with all the love he had for you.

“Just like that…” you murmured against his lips.

Hearing your praise, Miguel’s lips curled into a smile, his expression filled with a mixture of confidence and pride.

Every stroke hit a new depth, sending a shiver through both of you.

All he could think about was being connected with you in every way possible. Physically. Emotionally. He angled himself so his pelvic bone could rub and stimulate your bundle of nerves.

“Miguel-!”

You let out a cry when he changed his pace, your nails digging into his back. He wanted you to feel him for weeks, remembering this night. Each sharp, precise thrust, hitting your sweet spot over and over and driving you over the edge.

He could feel his own peak crawling up with each passing second. His thrusts grew more desperate and frenzied, aiming to chase his high with your body wrapped around his own.

“Look at me…I want to see you,” he breathed.

The sight of you under him, taking everything he was giving you, sent him over the edge. His body tensed as he reached the pinnacle of his own climax.

With one last thrust deep into your heat, his cum pulsated into you in strong waves. He stayed balled deep until each were drained and waited for a moment before he pulled his hips back.

He felt withdrawal as he released himself from your grip, his deflated dick now hung between his legs.

His body slumped weakly against yours, the intensity of the moment leaving him content and blissfully exhausted. The world around him faded into the background. In that instant, everything felt perfect.

The pulse in his ears gradually quieted to a gentle hum, and his muscles started to relax as he settled against you.

As he kept his arms around you, holding you close, he felt at peace for the first time in what felt like ages. It all felt so right— like this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

He wanted to stay like this, savouring the closeness, but your soft gasp tugged at his concerns.

“Are you okay?” he asked, still feeling lightheaded from the afterglow. “What’s wrong?”

You quickly sat up on the desk, adjusting your clothes with a sense of urgency. “We need to put our clothes back on.”

The seriousness in your voice jolted back into reality. The sterile scent of the lab and the harsh fluorescent lights snapped into sharp focus, reminding him where you were. He carefully pulled himself away from you, his mind scrambling to catch up.

As he gathered his clothes from the floor and desk, the remnants of your passion, he couldn’t help but glance back at you— disheveled, flushed and utterly captivating.

Once he was fully dressed, he looked at you with amusement. “I think we can slip out before anyone asks what we’ve been up to,” he teased with a grin.

You buttoned your shirt, still appearing slightly frantic. “Did we make a mess?”

Miguel scanned the lab, his eyes sweeping over the desk and the floor. He didn’t spot any obvious signs of a mess, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. The weight of what had just happened hung in the air.

Still, the room would be locked overnight— no one would see anything.

“Well…” he replied with a casual shrug. “I’m not too worried about any physical evidence. As long as they didn’t hear you cry out my name.”

You shot him a mildly annoyed look, pressing your lips together. “We should clock out before anyone suspects us.”

Just as you were about to move, Miguel gently pulled your arm. “Before we go…I need to know if this is something you truly want. Not just a temporary escape.” His voice was soft with vulnerability as he searched your eyes.

Your lips curled up into a reassuring smile. “Let’s go out to dinner and talk more there.”

Miguel’s eyes sparkled, the tension on his shoulders lifting. The idea of an intimate dinner, just the two of you, felt like the perfect addition to the connection you had just deepened.

He felt a sense of triumph as he allowed himself to experience this with you after the long, silent yearning.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d love to have dinner,”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Come on then, let’s get out of here.”

Miguel quickly switched off the lights and locked up before taking your hand in his. The two of you stepped out into the crisp night air, leaving the lab— and its memories— behind.

Miguel sat behind the wheel of his car, gripping on the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. You both agreed that he’d drive you to the airport, allowing you to spend these last moments together.

The car ride was silent, save for the occasional crackling of the chip packet in your hands. Miguel's eyes flickered towards you as you reached for another chip. You seemed calm and collected, but he knew better.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to break the silence, but nothing came out. Words that normally flowed so easily from him were caught in his throat. What could he possibly say that would make it any easier?

“Do you want some?” you offered, holding out the bag.

He shook his head, lips twitching into a forced smile. “I’m not really hungry right now.”

His eyes were back on the road. The thought of food was the furthest thing from his mind right now. All he could think about was the impending goodbye as the streets of Nueva York blurred past.

“Are you okay?” your voice, a soft caress.

He let out a dry, humorless laugh. Of course he wasn’t okay. How could he be? But he nodded anyway, giving you a reassuring smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m fine…just a little nervous about dropping you off at the airport, that’s all.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

The truth was too raw, too painful, to voice. He didn’t want to admit how devastating he was and burden you with his feelings, not now.

“I’ve never done anything this big before.” you confessed. He could hear the uncertainty in your voice. “Moving to a completely different state…”

He felt a mix of sadness and pride in his chest. He was so proud of you for taking such a big step, but at the same time, he wished things were different and you could stay with him a little longer.

If only he had known sooner, maybe he would have had the courage to confess— to hold you close and never let you go. To have you to himself just a little longer.

“I know, it’s a big deal,” he tried to sound comforting. “But you’re smart, and capable, and I know you’re gonna do amazing.”

“Thanks, I needed that reassurance.” you sighed. “I’m a little nervous. What if I don’t fit in and I’m too…Nueva York-y for them.”

With one hand, Miguel reached over and gently squeezed your thigh, while the other gripped the steering wheel.

He tried to radiate some of his warmth and comfort, despite his emotions swirling like a vortex inside him.

“You’re going to fit in just fine. You’re the most adaptable person I know. And even if you are a bit ‘Nueva York-y’, as you put it, I think the people of North Carolina could use a bit of that.”

He glanced back at you, catching the flicker of unease in your eyes. It was refreshing to know that, despite your excitement, you were still feeling the same apprehension that had been eating him.

It gave a sense of connection— knowing this change was just as daunting to you as it was for him.

“You’re going to enlighten them with your 'Nuyorican’ charm, trust me,” he said lightly.

As the airport car park came into view, Miguel felt a shudder. The moment of truth was closing in with each passing second. The parking lot was busy, surrounded by the hum of engines and the distant echo of rolling suitcases.

Once he found a parking space, he switched off the engine and sighed— the sound heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Part of him wanted to stay rooted in his seat, to delay the inevitable just a little longer.

But he knew better. There was no escaping this. No loophole.

Even if it killed him.

He stepped out of the car and opened the trunk. The reality of the situation was hitting him as he helped you with your luggage. This was really happening.

Inside the terminal, the building was bustling with activity— people rushing to catch flights, families reunited, and others parting with goodbyes. The overhead announcements echoed across the vast space, creating a backdrop of noise.

But the chaos felt distant to Miguel, like it was happening in another world. His entire focus was on the small details of you— how tightly you gripped the suitcase handle, the way your eyes darted around and scanning signs to find where you were supposed to go.

Every little movement you made seemed to carve into his memory, as if he were trying to etch these final moments into his mind.

He tried to keep himself distracted by glancing at the departure board, watching to see when your flight’s status changed to ‘boarding’. Meanwhile, you checked in your flight and dropped off any checked baggage.

Once that was done, Miguel walked with you to the security gates. His heart grew heavier with each step. The moment of separation was looking closer and closer like a looming shadow.

“Alright…this is it…” you announced, finally reaching the security gates. Only ticketed passengers could pass, so this was where he would have to let you go.

There were a few guards already waving people through, urging the crowd to keep moving. The noise of shuffling feet, distant conversations, and the occasional beep of the scanners filled the air, but it all seemed muted to Miguel. He looked back at you one last time, his heart hammering in his chest.

He wanted to say something— anything— to keep you from leaving. Words like ‘don’t go’ or ‘I love you’ hovered on the top of his tongue, but he knew they were pointless. You were leaving, the ticket was booked, and nothing he could say would change that.

“I’m… I’m gonna miss you…” the word felt insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But they were the only truth he could manage.

He knew it was pathetic to confess that now, like it wasn’t obvious already, like it was going to change anything.

“I want to give you something…” you reached for your bag, and Miguel’s breath caught in his throat when he saw what you pulled out— a Polaroid picture.

He took the picture from you, a nostalgic smile spread across your face when he saw the image. It was a picture from your early days at Alchemax, back when he had still been pretending to be annoyed with you.

In the photo, he was giving his signature grumpy glare, arms crossed over his broad chest, while you stood behind him and grinning widely. You were not bothered at all by his gruff demeanor.

“I wanted to wait until the last minute to give it to you,” you rubbed your neck sheepishly.

Miguel chuckled at your words. It was so typical of you, waiting to give him something special at just the right moment.

“Of course you did.” he replied fondly, his fingers tracing the picture gently. He slipped the photo in his wallet, a place where he could keep it close. “It’s perfect…thank you,”

It was more than just a picture, it was a snapshot of a moment in time, a memory he’d hold onto long after you were gone.

You look back up at him, your expression earnest and vulnerable. “Bésame?”

“Con mucho gusto, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he closed the distance between the two of you.

He cradled your face in his hands, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. His lips traced over the contour of yours, savouring the moment before fully capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

The kiss was everything— desperate, filled with unspoken words and unfulfilled yearnings. He wanted to hold onto this moment forever, to keep you with him like this just a little longer, but he knew he had to let you go.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, though he rested his forehead on yours, his breath becoming in ragged gasps.

“Be safe, okay?” he murmured.

“I’ll call you when I land...if I get any signal,” you replied with a shaky smile.

You start to queue up for the security gates, your luggage trailing behind you. Miguel’s heart twists as the line slowly gets shorter, the distance between you growing with each passing second.

He couldn’t do anything but watch with his hands shoved deep in his jeans pockets. His eyes were fixated on your figure, memorising every last detail of you.

He knew that once you went through those gates, he would never be able to kiss you, or hold you, or touch you.

Just as you disappeared out of sight, behind the security gates, the airport intercom called out your flight number and announced the final boarding call.

He watched the departure board change to ‘In Air’ which was the final push to turn away. He walked back to his car, the Polaroid photo in his wallet burned into his psyche.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @nina-from-317 @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @cupcakeinat0r @club-danger-zone @kavimoo

@fullmetalgizzy @frogs-and-oscar-brainrot @embearlyhere @soymiguelsesposa @twwcs

@safixiovi @tatatida @ghostsdoll @hyjionie @tomalymme

@saintdiior

Look, I know the smut seems a little rushed here but I didn’t want to focus on the spice in this story but rather the bittersweet, emotionally rollercoaster.

Ayrus xoxo

#★— ayrus writes #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman miguel #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 smut #miguel smut

534 notes · View notes

hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 month

Text

Miscalculation

AN: I don't write nearly enough for Felix. Luckily, that SKZCode lab episode planted this idea in my head, and it's taken a viciously hold on me. Also, just to be super clear, despite Reader being a year old experiment, she's very much an adult. She came into the world that way. Also also, I edited this while sleepy so, hopefully it's coherent lol.

Synopsis: Your first heat hits you unexpectedly and violently one day. Thankfully, your favourite person pays you a visit in an attempt to comfort you through it. However, you both severely underestimate just how much your heat affects you. Especially around him.

General tags and warnings: Lee Felix x Fem! Reader, Scientist! Felix, Cat hybrid! Reader, lots of unethical research, Reader is an experiment, Felix tries his best to humanise Reader, doesn't really apply here but, since Reader is an experiment and Felix is a scientist there is the potential for a power imbalance, Reader is in heat, Reader is manipulative and maybe in love with Felix and not much plot.

Smut tags and warnings: heavy dubcon, mentions of masturbation and exploration of sexuality, virgin! Reader, kind of sort of fingering (f. receiving), humping/grinding, over the clothes touching, scent kink of sorts, clothes being ripped, nipple play (m. receiving), Reader takes charge a lot throughout this, little to no foreplay for Reader and a very unrealistic first time, piv sex without a condom, marking and clawing (m. receiving), biting (m. receiving), one mention of blood, possessiveness from Reader, dirty talk, praise and creampie.

Word count: 3.8k.

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Everything burns.

Your blankets are a crumpled mess on your floor because you're certain you'll shred them into pieces with your claws if they so much as touch your overheated body right now. The persistent buzz of the air conditioner brings you no comfort. Sweat dots your forehead and you'd take off the oversized shirt that clings to your body within an instant if Doctor Bang, red faced and avoiding your frustrated gaze, hadn't insisted on some sense of propriety. Aren't these men supposed to be doctors? Trained medical professionals? Have they never seen a naked body before? He's lucky that he's the only one out of the three older men that you can somewhat stomach because if Doctor Lee or Doctor Seo had suggested you cover yourself, you would have hissed and clawed at them.

A frustrated noise builds from the back of your throat when you can feel your sheets starting to grow damp underneath you. You've already had to change them five times in the past two days and, you feel like you're losing your mind. Actually, you just might be. Worse than the burning that emanates through your entire body and the non-stop sweat that clings to your skin no matter how many ice-cold showers you take, is the perpetual ache between your thighs. You're not stupid. This lab may be all that you've known for the entire year of your life but, you have basic instincts and common sense. Coupled with all of the sessions you're forced to sit through with Doctor Bang in an attempt to understand you and aid you in understanding yourself, you're more than aware you're aroused right now. Or ‘wet’ as Doctor Lee and Doctor Seo put it, much to the dismay of the older of the three.

You just don't understand why.

In the rare moments that you've wondered about your sexuality and sex in these sterile walls, it's rarely gone beyond a few curious pokes and prods at yourself. It's mostly been a neutral experience and you didn't derive much pleasure out of it. You're sure your limited knowledge and experience on the matter has hindered your ability to enjoy masturbation much but, it's not as though the four men will just give you the material or knowledge to help pleasure yourself. You're not even sure you care all that much.

Except for when you do. Thinking back to quiet nights where the silence and loneliness of the lab was too much for your mind to handle and masturbation crossed it as a hope for distraction. A brief escape from the life you've been forced to endure. So, you tried it. Flashes of a kind smile and blonde hair making your stomach twist in a way that wasn't unpleasant, just unfamiliar. Full lips and memories of a deep voice causing arousal to trickle onto your inexperienced fingers. You'd even managed to make yourself orgasm once. It was one of the few sincerely pleasant moments you've had.

The rest centred around him too.

“–she's deep in heat right now, Lix.” You recognise the voice as that of Doctor Bang. Your ears twitch atop your head in interest at the conversation he's having with the only doctor you've grown fond of. You're always grateful for your hearing abilities in moments like these.

“We can't just keep her in the dark,” Felix argues and your heart hammers loudly in your chest. Electricity zipping through you just at the sound of his voice and the knowledge that he's just beyond your bedroom door. The throbbing between your thighs worsens.

“I know,” Doctor Bang sighs, “but, we won't be getting a shipment of suppressants until three days from now. We're just going to have to wait it out.”

“We?” Comes Felix's incredulous reply, “We're not the ones suffering right now. I went to visit her last night Chris,” your eyes widen at the confession, “She was burning up and covered in sweat and, she's only had to deal with two days of it. You know it's not fair to her.”

“What do you want us to do, Felix?” The older man argues, his voice heavy with frustration.

“Treat her like a fucking person,” the younger man argues just as frustrated, “Tell her what's going on. We know she's incredibly smart. Maybe she has some biological way to make herself feel better that we haven't thought about or explored.”

Silence stretches between the two for a few, long moments.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” comes Doctor Bang's resigned reply, “Look Lix, I know that you care about her and the two of you have always been close. Too close for what could be considered appropriate,” you snort at that. Now he cares about ethics and what's appropriate? How funny. “But, Minho, Changbin and I care about her too. She's not just some experiment to us,” you find that hard to believe, “We just know when it's appropriate to step back and keep our distance. This is one of those times. We're going to try and help her through it as best as we can but, we're going to wait for the suppressants then feed them to her. That's it. End of discussion.” The sounds of footsteps echoing through the hallway are all that accompany his words.

Well, at least you finally know what's wrong with you. You're in heat. Something they've apparently known you're capable of experiencing and have been suppressing since you gained consciousness. The fact that they're so blasé about letting you suffer in your room and wait days until you're able to find any kind of reprieve boils your blood in a way that has nothing to do with your biology. Yeah, so much for caring about you. You haven't even seen Doctor Seo and Doctor Lee since your symptoms first started. You don't even notice your claws prodding in your anger. You should have attempted to escape on those rare trips Felix had taken you outside of the lab. Consequences be damned. At least you'd have a shot at a normal life. You should have never let his warm eyes and compassion keep you coming back to this hellhole.

Your furious, internal tirade is interrupted by your door sliding open. You don't have to turn around to know that it's Felix. His scent always betrays him before anything else. The familiar mix of bamboo and vanilla hit your senses. However, unlike the other times you'd bask in his scent, now it worsens the thundering of your heart and you notice the slick between your thighs increasing.

“Hey,” he says gently, shutting the door behind him. All you can think to do is stare at your wall wide eyed as his scent grows closer with every step he takes towards your bed. Saliva begins to pool in your mouth just at the smell of him and the soft timber of his voice adds to the pit forming in your stomach. Your hands desperately grabbing at your arms in an attempt to calm you down. It's just Felix.

“I just wanted to check up on you,” he adds when his greeting is met with silence. You have to fight extremely hard to not let your tail move wildly and to keep your claws retracted when he sits down on the edge of your bed. Fuck. He's so close now and his scent is overwhelming. The smell that used to bring you comfort now puts you on edge. A feeling that you've only felt sparks of now sets your entire body alight and the ache between your thighs starts to become unbearable. He needs to leave before your heat causes you to do something very, very stupid.

“I know you've been struggling a lot lately,” the apologetic tone to his voice melts your heart and your impulses yell at you to crawl into his lap and nuzzle at him until he no longer sounds upset, “I'm sorry. We should have told you this when it started but, you're in heat. That's what's causing you to feel this way,” he explains, as though you hadn't overheard (more like intentionally listened in on) his conversation with Doctor Bang.

“I know you're probably mad at us, at me,” you want to tell him no, you could never be mad at him but, you're afraid that if you speak now, you'll say something you can't take back, “I'm truly sorry. The suppressants will be here in a few days. Till then though, I'm here for you,” he says softly, laying a hand gently on your arm in what you assume is an act of comfort but, it has the complete opposite effect.

Your blood turns molten in your veins and the fog that's been on the edges of your mind swallows it whole. All you can think about is getting your hands on him. Touching him. Feeling him. Mating with him. You've never felt more animal than human.

One of the major perks of being a cat hybrid, you've come to learn, is your quick movements. Before Felix can process it, you're sitting up and pressed to his side within an instant. The confusion and concern on his handsome face is so endearing. He's so cute. You just want to devour him.

“Felix,” your voice sounds near unrecognisable to even your own ears, “I want you to help me with my heat,” you practically purr into his shoulder. Grasping his arm and delighting in the pretty flush that spreads across his face. The ache of your canines extending doesn't bother you in the slightest. Your mind focused on nothing else but, the man that's been your lifeline for the past year.

“I–I um I ca–can't do that,” he explains, his voice sounding strained. His attempt to pull his arm away proves to be futile. Not that he was trying particularly hard anyway. “But, Lix,” you whine, pushing your body closer to his, your breasts pressing against his arm, “Didn't you say you'd help me?”

The way he attempts to stammer out a reply just makes him so much cuter to you. Nothing but, instinct driving you to press yourself even closer to him. Delighting in the shudder you feel run through his body when your breath hits his exposed neck. “Don't you want to help me, Felix?” You ask with a desperate edge to your hoarse voice, one of your hands travelling down the span of his lab coat until you reach his soft hand. Moving it until it's between your slick covered, inner thighs, “It hurts, Lix.”

Felix, for his part, looks absolutely shell-shocked. Warm, panicked brown eyes staring at you unblinkingly but, he doesn't move his hand. Not even when your own is no longer holding it. Your body moves on its own. Hips chasing the brush that his fingers offer. Your lashes fluttering at the pleasure courses through you. You feel so sensitive, even his barely there touch is enough to cause you to gush further onto his fingers.

And Felix watches it all. Watches the way you clumsily try to hump his fingers. Watches the minute expressions of relief and desire and frustration that all cross your beautiful face. Watches the way your canines sink into your bottom lip. Feels the way your sharp claws dig into his lap coat. He doesn't miss a thing.

Impulse and maybe a fraction of ration desire push you to tug on his button up shirt and kiss him. You're moving completely on what feels natural and what you've seen a couple of movies he's watched with you. It takes him a second to kiss you back. Tentatively following the movements of your lips and guiding you in more comfortable and enjoyable directions. You swallow his stuttered groan greedily when your tongue invades his mouth. Searching for more of him to explore. To taste. To burn into your memory.

As nice as it feels to kiss him like you've thought about far too many times in the silence of your room and, use his fingers and hand to help satiate the persistent ache that sits in the pit of your stomach, it still all isn't enough. Not even close. This time, you moan into his mouth when one of your hands snakes its way down the front of his body until it comes to rest on his lap. A particularly painful throb coming from the apex of your thighs when you feel how hard he is beneath your touch.

“So you do want this just as much as I do,” you sigh dreamily against his lips, sparks of desire shooting through your entire body with every palm of your hand over his clothed cock. All of his adorable, little noises making your walls clench. You don't think you've ever felt pain like this in your entire, short life. Saliva pools in your mouth as his scent wafts to you. Much heavier and headier than earlier. Beneath the anxiety and fear, the arousal makes its presence known clear as day.

“W–Wait, I–” Whatever he was going to say is cut short by you shoving him onto your bed. His wide eyes, pupils blown out and completely swallowing his irises, meeting your lidded ones as he watches you straddle his slender hips. You've always thought he was a good-looking man but, he looks even better like this, underneath you.

Your eyes practically roll into the back of your head when you press down on him. Your drenched folds coming in contact with the evident bulge in his dress pants. Resting your palms on his stomach, you start to move. Chasing the friction against your clit desperately. Not caring all about the mess you're making of his pants. Your eyes focused on watching the way he tries very, very hard not to lose himself in the way you grind against him. His hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he lays there and let's you use him.

Fuck. What a cutie.

His eyes shoot to your face when you use your claws to rip his blue button up open. While the colour looks absolutely lovely on him, you much prefer the sight of his bare chest. Your tongue running over your teeth at all the skin that you now have access to.

“He–Hey, I think we should calm d–down a bit and–” Felix tries to interject, the drop in octave of his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you. You disregard his words easily. Leaning down to shut him up with your mouth while your hands busy themselves with exploring his chest. Your canines nipping his bottom lip when he gasps into you while you trace his nipples with your claws. Sensitive too. Perfect.

“Why stop when I can feel how hard you are for me, Lixie?” You whisper against his full lips, fingers tracing random patterns into his nipples. His hips jutting up to meet your drenched core every time you touch him a little too harshly or drag yourself along his entire length.

“Don't you want to just give in?” You ask, meeting his blown out eyes as your hands move their way along his lithe body until they reach his belt buckle.

“I–I–” he stutters out when you sit back up so you can gain a better view of his frustrating belt. He must see you preparing to rip his pants off too because he stops you immediately, “I–It's okay, I got um it,” he quickly responds. You shift down him a little to provide him with space to unbuckle his belt. Fortunately, he doesn't take too long. You're sure your impatience is rolling off of you in waves.

Much to your surprise given how bashful he's been, he tugs his pants and boxers down in one go. His hard, pre-cum covered cock slapping against his stomach in his rush, his eyes pointedly looking at everywhere but, you.

It's one thing to feel him, it's a whole different matter entirely to have his cock right there, ready for the taking. And take, you do. It's adorable how red his face is and the way he sneaks glances at you shyly when you shift back up his body until your dripping pussy is hovering over his twitching cock. Your shirt sticks to your damp body uncomfortably and, the reminder that you're still wearing it is an unwelcome one. So, you simply tug it off. Exposing yourself freely and readily to his shy eyes.

Not that he's all that shy when you're bare for him to fully drink in. Bruised lips parting as he watches you grasp his cock with an impatient hand and align it with your dripping hole. He doesn't stop you when you begin to sink down onto him. Strained whimpers falling from his pretty mouth with every inch you eagerly swallow. The stretch only stings a little. The sensation of his scorching cock dragging along your walls more than makes up for it. It's your turn to moan once he's fully sheathed inside of you. Your clumsy attempts with your fingers don't hold a candle to this.

The way Felix chokes on your name when you start to move will forever be etched into your memory. The pleasure clear as day on his face spurs you along with the desire to feel him inside of you for as long as you can. To make love with him in this awful place that only he gave any semblance of meaning to. To mate with him.

You lose yourself in the way his cock feels easily. Fluttering lashes threatening to shut every time he hits a spot inside of you that makes your pace falter and your claws dig into his soft stomach. The faint, pink lines that decorate his skin cause you to preen. They look gorgeous on his skin. They look like they belong there. Like they were meant to be there. Based on the way his hooded eyes switch from watching the expressions your face morphs into, the way your breasts bounce with every movement on his cock and the way you swallow as much of him as you can, you don't think he minds or cares all that much.

Your skin grows impossibly hotter when his hands touch you. He's careful. Watching for any discomfort but, there's none to be found. If anything, you revel in the gentle hold his hands take of your hips. Not controlling your movements but just enjoying touching you while you bounce on his cock.

You might actually love him.

The thought prompts you to lean down and smash your lips to his once more. The metallic tang of blood lets you know that you nipped him too hard but he doesn't care all that much. Letting you take everything you need from him right now while he lets you. You can feel the way he throbs inside of you. He tries to stop himself but, you notice the way his hips sometimes jerk up to meet you, to move with you. And the knowledge that, on some level, he wants you just as much as you want him sends you into overdrive.

His sharp inhale echoes through your room when you sink your canines into his neck. The punctures aren't deep but, they're more than enough to satisfy you. You're not sure why or how you knew to do that but, instinct has been your driving force all night and you're going to continue to trust it.

“We're mated now,” you sigh, thumbing his flushed cheek.

He just looks up at you for a moment, attempting to digest your words before responding, “Mate–Mated?”

“Mmm,” you hum in confirmation, purring when you notice the way his twitches like crazy inside of you, “You're my mate now, and I'm yours,” you explain breathlessly. A tension you're barely familiar with building in the pit of your gut that you chase.

“But we fuck can't–” his sentence is cut off by the drawn out moans from the depths of his chest, his eyes rolling into the back of his head when you pick up your pace. He looks so attractive like this. A bruise already forming on his neck and his chest littered with faint marks from your claws. He's gorgeous.

“I'm ah cl–close,” he gasps out, his glazed eyes meeting yours and his hands desperately gripping your hips, “You need to shit st–stop,” he manages to stutter out. You think it's amusing that he thinks you're going to stop now. Especially when you're just about to get what you want. Leaning down to his ear, you whisper, “Why, Lixie? You look so cute like this. Why would I ever want to stop?” You smile when you hear the way he whimpers and his cock pulses harder inside of you, “Don't you want to cum inside me?” His hold on you grows tighter, “I want you to. I want you to cum inside me until it's spilling out of me,” you emphasise your point by intentionally clenching around him, “For days.”

That's all it takes for him to break. His cock throbbing as he shoots his cum into the deepest part of you. A mix of his whimpers and strangled moans of your name tickle your ears as his cum fills your eagerly awaiting pussy. Your tail swishes in glee and your ears twitch in happiness. Your own orgasm creeping up on you when you feel the last of his cum spill into you. Truly, the late nights alone in your bed could never compare to this. To him. Your first orgasm could never hold a candle to this. Your entire body is riddled with quivers and shakes, your wetness gushing onto Felix's softening cock. Your thighs are sticky with cum and you're drenched in sweat but, you've never been more at peace.

For some time, your shared laboured breathing is the only sound in your room. Fondness bubbles up inside of you when you glance at his flushed, sweaty face. His golden hair sticking to his forehead while he takes some time to come back to himself. Your fingers move before you can even think about it. The fog retreating slightly while you play with his hair and enjoy the simple pleasure of watching him while your combined releases trickle out of you. Much to your displeasure.

You smile at him when he finally blinks his eyes open to meet yours. Your fingers ghosting over his mate mark as something primal and affectionate simmers in the pit of your stomach. He really is yours now. Your tail wraps around his leg without you even noticing.

The smile he gives you is small but, it's still one of his smiles and the way your heart hammers in your chest lets you know he really was meant to be your mate.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

Stray Kids Masterlist | Ko-Fi

#lee felix x reader smut #felix x reader smut #stray kids x reader smut #lee felix smut #felix stray kids smut #stray kids felix smut #felix smut #stray kids smut #felix lee x reader smut #felix lee smut

489 notes · View notes

yestrday · 3 months

Text

: ̗̀➛ YANDERE SCIENTIST EXAMINES HIS NEWEST SUBJECT .

the scientists have caught an humanoid anomaly and needs to study it asap! to progress humanity's evolution, our brilliant scientist has to determine whether or not their newest specimen is suitable for... ahem... crossbreeding...

notes ! very much inspired from this yandere asmr on youtube... have fun!

( implied masc reader, slight nsfw, he's crazy!!!... and perverted )

YANDERE! SCIENTIST who immediately jumps on board when they report to him about the newest anomaly caught by the institute. these side projects have been boring him for far too long! he needs something new to simulate this brilliant brain of his, and what better to do that than some never before seen alien to study and experiment on!

YANDERE! SCIENTIST who fights tooth and nail to be the only scientist who gets access to you. these plebeians don't have the genius to even comprehend the most basic things about anomalies, much less even you! although he has a reputation for being... eccentric, he does eventually win the fight. after all, none of their puny successes can put a dent in his long list of accomplishments.

YANDERE! SCIENTIST whose breath gets taken away the moment he lays eyes on you, floating peacefully in the bubbling incubator. you look so relaxed, especially being an anomaly captured for testing and probing. lightly tapping on the glass, he watches as your eyes flutter open and you stretch your limbs to regain your senses. you seem so confused, having suddenly awakened in a vat full of liquid, but when you lock eyes with him there's naught but a thought behind those wide eyes of yours.

YANDERE! SCIENTIST who has you strapped down on the operating table, a wide grin stretching his handsome face as he slips on the latex gloves. aaah~ ♡ to have such an interesting specimen laid out so vulnerably for him! just for him! he absolutely overwhelms you with questions, even though he had just jabbed you with a syringe and are now too paralyzed to move your tongue.

YANDERE! SCIENTIST who makes you the teensiest bit in danger. although you're not accustomed to humans and their nature, there is something off in those turquoise eyes of his that sets your natural fight-or-flight.

YANDERE! SCIENTIST who's a bit too handsy with you, and if his co-workers were in the room with him they would have told him off for being unprofessional. but no one is here, only him and you, and what does an anomaly like you know about professionalism anyway?

YANDERE! SCIENTIST who eyes your bigger, more superior form with a predatory look. you encompass him by some inches, and your natural form is bigger than him. he wonders if your species is naturally like that, or if you're just the exception. nevertheless, it delights him how big you are compared to him, if the excited pants of his breathing don't give him away.

as he chatters on and on about his supreme intelligence and how lucky you are to have him studying you, you can feel his hands roaming around your body as he pokes and prods. his fingers graze against your denticles, grab the plush of your hips, squishing your cheeks and feeling around your mouth. the drug's worn off enough for you to start squirming, and you can see the absolute delight in those manic eyes as you start regaining your motor control back.

"so an aquatic-based humanoid anomaly, huh?" your eyes follow him as he jots something down on his clipboard. "bigger than the average human male... has denticles forming on their thighs, sides of face and neck... has extra limbs, tentacles, on the back, but is currently immobile due to drugs at the moment..." he sets the clipboard down and grins at you wickedly. "my subject, you truly are an intriguing specimen!"

he reaches for one of the tentacles protruding from your lower back, sliding a finger between the suckers, pleased by how they weakly twitch under his touch. an anomaly, a being superior to him in strength and speed, so vulnerable under him. "huhu~ despite the drug, you're very sensitive, aren't you? is this part of your genes or perhaps..."

he tucks your messy hair beneath your ear, breath tickling you as he draws himself nearer. "is it just you~?"

his laugh is maniacal as he watches blood color your odd-colored face. you're so big and strong yet so, so adorable. like lab mice. like a pet. he checks himself though, because for all his superiority complex, he is an experienced scientist, and he knows better than to underestimate his research subjects.

"well, well, my dear anomaly, it's time you familiarize yourself with me. i will be the one paying attention to you for these next few months, so it's best that you return that attention as well. it's only good manners, after all." you cock your head as he flashes his i.d at you, letters incomprehensible to you. he notices this and sighs.

"that's yuri isami to you, the captain of darkwick's mortkranken house and your supervising scientist." he introduces himself with a tone like you should have known him already, and he smiles at you with charming arrogance.

"best start practicing my name, since you'll be calling it many times, i'm sure."

YANDERE! SCIENTIST whose time and attention have been completely consumed by you. his co-workers whisper about how unnervingly behaved he's been and silently thank the poor anomaly that has captured his fixation. rather than talking down to them like he always does, he's been humming more lately and dismissing their comments with a happy grin. finally, they didn't have to deal with his overbearing attitude!

what they can't escape is the maniacal laughter that erupts every now and then from his laboratory. the laboratory which you've made your temporary home. you spend your time splashing around the rather big aquarium that the scientist has moved in for you, humming to yourself as you watch the scientist mess with his weird appliances. he's always talking to you, in the human language that you don't understand, but you can understand tones. and judging by his fast-paced syllables and wide grin, you think he's happy enough.

YANDERE! SCIENTIST, however, has gone on another tangent about how sublime your natural physiology is. he laments about how weak the human body is, and how you will be the key to developing their society. you think he must really like you, with how he often touches you. his touches often go from delicate caressing of your cheeks or perverse groping of your muscles and arms.

sometimes, he has you splayed out on his operating table, bright medical lamps pointed to you so he can observe your beautiful body in all its glory. you're wayyy bigger than him, so he has to straddle you so he can get a feel— ahem, gather accurate data on you... nevermind his intense blush and heavy breathing.

when you let out a questioning hum, yuri finally stops his roaming hands and snaps out of his trance. clearing his throat, he backs up and composes himself as he tries to get a semblance of composure. not that it matters, when you clearly don't care, but still.

"ahem! apologies, i was just, uh, your body was just too— i mean, i was busy gathering data on you, like always." he coughs into his hand, blushing as he steals another peek at your physique. "anyways, what is it? what brought you to disturb my information gathering, hm?"

you tilt your head and point to the clipboard he's always writing in, then to yourself. you're not stupid, but you don't quite understand why yuri needs so much information on your body. he furrows your brows as he tries to interpret your miming, before letting out an 'ah'. "oh, so you're wondering what i'll be using this data for?"

"as i've said before, humanity's evolutionary gene has fallen into a state of decline. an anomaly such as yourself with an advanced physiology will be able to help humanity with this. of course, this is all a hypothesis, so we'll be doing many rounds of... testing before we can actually proceed with this." yuri must've forgotten that you can't speak the human tongue, so when he sees the blank look on your face, he sighs.

"you."

trailing his fingers over your chest, they glide against the muscle before pressing against your chin, then point to himself with the other finger.

"and me."

his face takes on a sensual grin, biting his lip as his eyes lock with your confused ones. together, he brings his hands together, motioning one finger to enter the hole of the others.

"crossbreeding, yeah?"

... even you can understand such a universal signal, as you finally feel your face heat up at yuri's lewd provocation. the scientist, on the other hand, feels delighted when you finally understand his goal, mound squished against your taut skin slicking a bit when he feels you stir behind him.

MWAHAHAHAH once again i have fooled you into thinking this is a general yan fic. check out this guy at the game tokyo debunker, which has a really cool horror plot and cuter men. the storys really good my guys, so go check it out

#yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere #male yandere #tokyo debunker #yandere tokyo debunker #yuri isami #yandere yuri isami #yester.writes

508 notes · View notes

vestaignis · 7 days

Text

Извержение вулкана Килауэа: встреча двух стихий.

Вулкан Килауэа находится на Большом острове Гавайского архипелага и занимает почти 14% его территории.Килауэа - самый молодой из наземных гавайских вулканов (США) и один из самых активных действующих вулканов на Земле. Высота Килауэа - 1247 метров над уровнем моря, его основание уходит на дно Тихого океана на глубину около 5 км.

Последнее извержение Килауэа было в 1983 году и продолжается по настоящее время. Килауэа считается местом обитания Пеле — гавайской богини вулканов. По ее имени названы некоторые лавовые образования, например, «слезы Пеле» (маленькие капли лавы, которые студятся на воздухе и принимают фигуру слезы) и «волосы Пеле» (тонкие нити вулканического стекла обсидиана, возникающие в итоге быстрого остывания лавы при стекании в океан).

Профессиональная спортсменка Элисон Тил стала первой девушкой, решившей устроить экстремальный серфинг возле извергающегося вулкана. Бурлящие потоки лавы стекают прямо в океан, в то самое место, где и решила поплавать спортсменка. Тут стоит быть предельно осторожным и оставаться на чеку, ведь скорость, с которой движется раскаленная лава, может составлять несколько метров в секунду, а температура ее колеблется в районе 500–1200° C — этого с лихвой хватит, чтобы моментально свариться заживо.

За Килауэа круглосуточно наблюдают десятки специалистов со всего мира. На кадрах с Гавайев – огненные потоки лавы стекают со склонов вулкана прямо в Тихий океан. По утверждению ученых, при контакте раскаленной субстанции и воды брызги лавы взлетают на десятки метров. Удивительное природное явление привлекает к вулкану Килауэа туристов, которые желают увидеть столкновение стихий вживую. Однако геологи не рекомендуют приближаться к вулкану, поскольку тот может оказаться непредсказуемым.

Kilauea Volcano Eruption: A Meeting of Two Elements.

Kilauea Volcano is located on the Big Island of the Hawaiian archipelago and occupies almost 14% of its territory. Kilauea is the youngest of the Hawaiian land volcanoes (USA) and one of the most active volcanoes on Earth. Kilauea is 1,247 meters above sea level, its base goes to the bottom of the Pacific Ocean to a depth of about 5 km.

The last eruption of Kilauea was in 1983 and continues to this day. Kilauea is considered the home of Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of volcanoes. Some lava formations are named after her, for example, "Pele's tears" (small drops of lava that cool in the air and take the shape of a tear) and "Pele's hair" (thin threads of volcanic obsidian glass that appear as a result of the rapid cooling of lava as it flows into the ocean).

Professional athlete Alison Teel became the first girl to try extreme surfing near an erupting volcano. Bubbling lava flows straight into the ocean, the very place where the athlete decided to swim. Here you should be extremely careful and stay on guard, because the speed at which the hot lava moves can be several meters per second, and its temperature fluctuates around 500–1200° C — this is more than enough to instantly boil alive.

Kilauea is monitored around the clock by dozens of specialists from all over the world. In the footage from Hawaii, fiery lava flows flow from the slopes of the volcano straight into the Pacific Ocean. According to scientists, when the hot substance comes into contact with water, splashes of lava fly up tens of meters. An amazing natural phenomenon attracts tourists to the Kilauea volcano who want to see the clash of the elements live. However, geologists do not recommend approaching the volcano, as it may prove unpredictable.

Источник: /travelask.ru/blog/posts/4045-zaplyv-s-lavoy-na-gavayyah, //gsavia.com/uncategorized/gavajskie-vulkany-nacionalnyj-park.html, /ru.pinterest.com/pin/9499849187484206/,/loveopium.ru/severnaya-amerika/izrygayushhij-vulkan-kilauea.html,/masterok.livejournal.com /105805.html,//t.me/+E4YBiErj0A8wOGUy,/onznews.wdcb.ru/jul16/info_160726.html,/gorets-media.ru/news/3717.

219 notes · View notes

hatchetno1 · 1 month

Note

okay okay. dancing w the pasta hcs. how do they dance?? how shitty are they at it?? or good are they?? whos the best?? who would just spin you both in circles and count that as dancing?? (no nsfw pls!! minor anon here) IVE SEEN YOU SAY THAT YOU WANT REQS BUT IGNORE THIS IF THAT CHANGES!!!!

jeff

- knows NOTHING about dancing

- so you (attempt to) teach him, but he has two left feet and keeps stepping on you.

- he mutters quick but genuine apologies under his breath, and you forgive him.

- arguably the worst of the bunch at dancing.

- surprisingly good at it

- in fact, he’s good enough to instruct you here and there, and understands what sort of dance is suitable for what kind of music

- if you can keep up with him, he’s actually good at the stuff

- but if you need to slow down, he’ll act as an instructor of sorts

slenderman

- the best by far at dancing.

- having been alive for ages, Slender possesses bits of trivia even scientists wouldn’t get their hands on for the next few decades to come.

- at his full potential, he could be mistaken for a professional ballroom dancer…except for the fact that he’s 3 meters tall and definitely could not fit into society.

- he even has his own collection of ballroom music to dance to.

BEN

- “isn’t that just stepping randomly together in the same direction at the same time?”

- he knows the definition of dancing…but cannot dance.

- actually ACTUALLY unironically thinks that whatever he said earlier is correct. you spend about 10 minutes debating over it before he finally agrees to it, albeit reluctantly.

- he ends up just spinning you in circles and counting that as dancing because he’s so against “spamming WASD”. (he means walking in circles together.)

- but a couple days after this, you catch him researching ballroom dancing.

tim

- grumbles a little at the beginning, but takes you in his arms nonetheless.

- takes very careful steps around your feet to make sure he doesn’t step on you. you suppose he at least knows where he can mess up, and takes care not to.

- he gets better at it as you go along, his steps getting a little less clumsy and hesitant.

- and by the end, you swear you catch him enjoying himself a little, a crinkle of his eye and a curl of his lip upwards.

brian

uses common sense through it all.

was never taught to dance, but can guess what it is.

his footsteps are light and surprisingly nimble for someone who claims to not know what he’s doing.

at the end of it, when he pecks you on the lips, you’re left wondering if he really didn’t know what dancing was.

toby

an absolute disaster of two left feet and a palm on the floor. which is what he actually thinks you’re asking him to do—breakdance.

“…Ballroom dancing?” he repeats after you like it’s a foreign phrase.

it’s going to be a long day, you think to yourself, as you take his trembling hands in your own.

by the end, he’s stepped on you about 52 times.

222 notes · View notes

poem-i-wish-i-wrote · 3 months

Text

First date haircut

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Warning: Absolutely none Summery: Where Lando scores the pole and the first date requested by @misspygmypie . I hope you I did justice to your vision. Hope you enjoy this<33

You were walking into the paddock, pass in your hand, ready for another day of work. As soon as you reached the opening where you would swatch your pass someone crushed into you.

“Good grief, Lando! Watch where you are going.” You yell at the British driver who was trying to steady you by your elbows.

“Sorryyy, I was in a rush, I didn’t see you.” Lando explains. “Clearly. How could you see me, with that bush of hair in front of your eyes.” you say. He puts his hands on his chest in a mocking offence. “Let’s hope you can see the track through that hedge.” you say with a sarcastic eye roll while swapping your paddock pass.

You were one of the performance engineers for McLaren. You have been here for a few years. You know Lando pretty well. You both have a very flirty relationship full of banters, and he very often jokes about taking you out on a date. That sarcastic exchange before was a very frequent happening.

You go to the garage and set up. Today was practice day or Friday as the peasants would say.

At some point Carlos comes into the garage and greets you.

“Y/n what did you tell Lando this morning?” he asks you with that thick spanish accent of his. “ Why? He crashed into me this morning and I insulted his hair.” you say with raised eyebrows. “He's been in the hospitality centre asking me if his hair looks bad since I have arrived.” You burst out laughing at that.

“Well I won’t lie, he could use a haircut.” you say in between chuckles. “I think the weight of his hair dumbs him down.” Carlos starts laughing at that too.

“Maybe cutting some hair weight could make him faster on the track”He adds as you both chuckle . “What are you two laughing at?” Lando’s voice comes from behind.

“Your hair.” You say.

“Hey you said it looked good a few minutes ago” Lando says with an accusing look at carlos.

“Because you were whining and I needed you to stop” Carlos shrugs.

“Maybe you should get a haircut.” You say looking up at him. He doesn’t miss a before he looks into your eyes challengingly and say “maybe you should go out with me,” with a aly smile,

“Well not when you look like that.”

He rolls his eyes at that. “Moving on. What’s the weather report my little data scientist?” Now you see, when he jokes about taking you out on a date you always refuse. But you Can’t deny That you don’t find him attractive. Especially right now when he has one hand on the table beside your own hand, another on the chair you're sitting, leaning towards your computer, calling you his little data scientist. That man makes you dizzy.

You gulp, “It’s gonna rain tomorrow, but today should be pretty dry. As per my calculation today the fastest lap for our car could be less than 1.5 but due to the weather and the traction of this track, tomorrow the fastest you can go won’t be this much.” Carlos was listening to you intently but Lando had a very unserious face.

“We should probably do good today at practice. But the condition of our car might not be suitable for tomorrow's weather. As there was some damage from the last race. So I’d probably say drive a little safe out there in qualification. Life’s worth more than a pole position, right? It should be dry on race day.” You see Carlos nodding. But Lando had a mischievous look now. “ So what I am hearing is you think I can’t get a pole tomorrow?” you roll your eyes hearing that. “Is that a challenge L/n” Carlos chuckles at that.

“No it’s definitely not a challenge.”

“Oh come on L/n don’t back down now. You’re better than that.” he says, moving your chair a bit so you face him.

You probably shouldn't have said what you were about to. It really wasn’t very professional of you. But his eyes on you had the sensible side of you in a puddle. “Say what, you get the pole tomorrow, I go on that date you are dying to take me to.” Lando wasn’t expecting that. It took him by surprise but the expression quickly turned into a smirk.

“Oh you're on” he replies as Carlos stands there watching you two kids flirt. “Kiss already” he wants to say.

You are horrified and overly joyed at the same time when the commentator is explaining how the boy you have a bet with has gotten pole position. On the other hand Lando wanted to jump from his super fast moving car, not being sure what he was more excited for, the pole position or that he gets to take his crush out tomorrow night. When he finally gets to the garage later that day, his first instinct was to find you. “See Y/n you never should have doubted me.” “ I never doubted you, I doubted the weather and the car condition.”

“Excuses, excuses” He says with a dismissive hand gesture. “You can’t get out of this now. We had a bet, you need to go on a date with me.” You hesitate, this wasn’t a good idea. Carlos comes up behind you. “Y/n grant the boy that date already.” he urges. You smile slightly "Only if you get a haircut, i don’t wanna be caught associating with someone looking like that.”

The next day, The race went very well. Carlos had finished in p2 and Lando in p3. It was an extra celebration. Lando was super happy. While sitting on the podium after the race interview while smelling like champagne and sweat he could only think about you. He waited for this opportunity for a long time.

When all the work for the day was done he went to the garage to find you. You were sitting on your desk tidying up everything.

“Hey” he says from behind, caging you between him an the desk with his hands both sides on the table while leaning towards you. His voice sent goosebumps on your skin

“Hi my podium sitter,” you say while looking up at him. He flashes the sweetest smile.

“I’m taking you out at 7. Dress pretty. I’ll meet you at the hotel lobby at 7?” He says, kinda hoping you wouldn’t back out at the last minute. But he had his fears. But fortunately you gave him a smile and said “alright.”

Lando was freaking out about what to do, where to take you, what to wear. He might have been dying to take you out for a long time. He was busy for the race weekend to actually come up with a good plan. Carlos was sitting in his hotel room bed watching the boy pace in circles.

“Lando, don't be so nervous, it’s going to be okay.” The boy turns towards him with a distressed face. “Okay?? Okayy?? I don’t want it to go okay! I need it to go great! This might be my only chance to impress her. She won’t go on another date with me ever if this goes wrong. “ Carlos got up to stop him walking in circles and held him still by his shoulders. “You got her to go on the first date, you’ll get the second date too. Just take her on a simple dinner date. Be a gentleman, get to know her. I can tell, she really likes you. It will go great.”

Lando visibly relaxes. “Dinner date, yes I can do that.” Carlos goes ahead and picks up the scissors he brought with him. “Come on now, it’s time for you to get a haircut.”

You were in your room with Missy, the only other female performance engineer on the team. You had your whole suitcase emptied on top of your bed trying to find an outfit.

“I can’t believe it took you so long to go out with him. He's been asking you forever.” You roll your eyes. “I don’t have shit to wear.” you sigh. “Let’s go shopping, what do you say?” Missy suggests.

That’s when your phone beeps with a notification from Carlos. It showed a photo of him cutting his hair. With the text “Getting him ready for your date.” You show the text to Missy and both of you laugh.

You still had like 3 hours before your date. And you really wanted to look good for Lando. You get up taking your purse. “Let’s go.”

Lando was standing in the lobby waiting in a white dress shirt and grey pants. He was very nervous. But that was until he turned around to find you walking towards him. You were wearing a white dress with ruffles in the end. The dress fell above your ankles and you were wearing white laced up heels. Lando could swear his heart stopped beating the second he saw you.

You look across the lobby looking so handsome and enamoured by you, it felt like your knees would give out by just the look in his eyes.

“Hey,” he says as he takes your hand in his. “You look breathtaking.” You smile up at hi “You don’t look half as bad. The haircut suits you.” you say cheekily. It did suit him though. So much so That you almost ran your hands through his curls.

He takes you to a fancy restaurant. You both talk for a long time. He listens to you with great attention, hanging into your every word. You both flirt, make fun of each other. You realise it comes easy for both of you. Being with Lando felt easy and comfortable. The lovesick look in his eyes. The way he would call you “love” while asking you what wine you wanted. It all felt right.

After dinner was done. You two were just talking and drinking wine. He reaches for your hand across the table and lovingly strokes his thumb across it.

“I’ve been waiting for this long time. I hope it’s not the first and last time we get to do this.” he was looking at your hands, not meeting your eyes. You gave his hand a little squeeze making him look up. “I don’t want it to be the last time either.”

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #lando norris #f1 x reader #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x oc #lando norris x female reader

316 notes · View notes

takavasen · 6 months

Text

Tumblr dashboard in Night Vale simulator

🧪homo-genius

Today's science fact:

Spiders have an open blood circulation system, which means they do not have veins and their blood is different from the blood of mammals. Unfortunately many healthcare professionals do not know this, which can lead to improper methods in...

🎙️voice_of_night_vale

Spiders are a valuable part of our community and deserve good healthcare.

But more importantly, I want everyone to know that Carlos the Scientist made this post, he is my husband and I love him very much! 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

🪬a-thousand-fingernails Follow

Cecil everyone knows you and Carlos are married and most of us are happy for you but you don't need to tell this in every post you make

🎙️voice_of_night_vale

Wait have I mentioned it before?

809 notes

⭐sheriffofallarts

Hah saw some loser (@ marble-eyes) bring the same girl (@ mountainbeliever343 I think, couldn't see her face clearly from the cameras) home for the third time this week lol

cmon just say you are girlfriends already dont be shy

💎marble-eyes Follow

Hey you can't just share private information like that!! And besides that is not true, I haven't brought anyone home for a long time, I don't have time for that anymore!!!

🟡secretly-in-your-home

No. I can confirm that what Sam said is true. I was there. I am always there. Also, I put the rest of your cereal to your washing machine. They have been in the cupboard for a while now, I thought they were getting quite dusty and needed cleaning.

31 notes

🏀basketballpalmer Follow

We had an another great season with @nvwheelchairbasketball team again! Thank you everyone, it's an honor to be the captain of the team! See you guys next season <3

👍wallabyyy Follow

Aaaaa congratulations! I miss you guyssss

43 notes

☀️prophet-of-smiling-god

I just had the most delightful date with the most gorgeous theologist in Desert Bluffs Too!!! We had a lovely dinner at my house (some eyeball salad, mushed tarantulas and fried human fingers), watched some movies and of course made sure to serve our great Smiling God by making each other as happy as possible!! Unfortunately Charles said that it would make him unhappy if I shared the details, but I can confidently say that I have never been more joyful!!

🦷smiling-mayor Follow

Kevin, you missed a service in the Temple of Joy because of this. Surely you would remember doing that for an old friend, wouldn't you? 😊

☀️prophet-of-smiling-god

Oh, Lauren, of course I wouldn't ignore anything like that on purpose, you know how much I love tolerating you!!

98 notes

🪽not-an-angel Follow

Does anyone happen to have 10 bucks?

You can send them here: absolutely-not-a-scam-link

🌟erikaaaaaaa Follow

Does anyone happen to have 10 bucks?

You can send them here: absolutely-not-a-scam-link

💵ex-vanston Follow

Does anyone happen to have 10 bucks?

You can send them here: absolutely-not-a-scam-link

💡erika-the-black-one Follow

Does anyone happen to have 10 bucks?

You can send them here: absolutely-not-a-scam-link

3 notes

😎violentfootstool-deactivated20230416

Hey guys, so I just spoke to the new scientist lady and found out I don't actually have three pairs of arms. The lower two were just robot limbs that I tried out when I was seven years old and forgot to take them off. So hows your day ://

🔬janet-lubelle

I am always happy to help with explaining your problems away.

🎀tinfoilforteeth

Hey bitch how is it going under the cow

754 notes

🎙️voice-of-night-vale

Alright, I'm going to say it. Steve Carlsberg does NOT know how to be a basketball coach. He knows nothing about any game structures, and he only allows one ball per game!! He talks too loud, except when you can't hear him. It will be ALL HIS FAULT if we end up losing this season!!!!!

🌠lines-in-the-sky Follow

🎙️voice-of-night-vale

For everyone who finds this post now: I made this many years ago. Things have changed a lot. I'm very sorry, Steve. I couldn't hope for a better brother-in-law. You are my best friend, and I was the irrational one in this situation.

I have changed the way I look at people. I will not treat them the same way I used to treat Steve anymore.

1,642 notes

🎙️voice-of-night-vale

Alright, who let Susan Willman be in charge of anything? She is the absolute worst at making desicions, like, who asks an obelisk its NAME? She had an oppoturnity to ask almost anything, and that's what she chose?? She better stay away from our way for at least seven decades, and keep her "Huntokar"-nonsense with herself!!!

11 notes

#fake dashboard #wtnv #welcome to night vale #unreality #this took way too long

308 notes · View notes

amourdivine · 1 year

Text

𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃 🤍 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒.𝐏. 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊 & 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔?

Hello, lovelies! This was a suggested reading from a dear anonymous. It had a more romantic subtext, but I hope you take out what resonates & leave what doesn’t! If you have any more suggestions, so let me know! Feedback is always welcome. If you liked this reading, please consider booking a paid reading or tipping me at @ [email protected]! xo. ♡

follow me on my socials. youtube ✨ instagram

paid readings are open, click here to know more

none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise

how to choose your pile. take deep breaths for a few minutes & look at each and every one of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later.

♡ ♡ ♡ pick a card masterlist & information

disclaimer. this is a general reading for entertainment purposes. tarot is a divination tool & is not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2023 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

PILE ONE 💜

what do they think about you? ten of swords • eight of pentacles • six of cups.

I just heard Coldplay’s “The Scientist”, specifically the bit in which he sings “take me back to the start”. I wonder if you two had a fight, some sort of falling out or heavy disagreement. They think they’ve lost you - this is weighing heavy on their mind. They wish they could go back to when things were simpler, when things weren’t so difficult and anxiety-inducing. I think they feel a lot of shame and blame as well (I heard “blame game”) and I’m not going to lie, pile one, this person may be overthinking this connection, especially the way they see it. It feels heavy, like my chest and my throat are holding so much energy but nothing comes out. They’re not thinking clearly, despite thinking so much, it’s really difficult for them to “think” a way out of this situation you’re in. However, they do wish to work towards a peaceful resolution with you. They want to find a way to make things feel lighthearted and happy for the two of you again. This person could also be listening to a lot of heavy/sad songs, because so many of them are coming through to me. They’re experiencing a lot of self-hatred and very difficult emotions are going through them. They’re mourning some kind of happy ending, but they’re still willing to salvage the relationship if that's something you also desire.

how do they feel towards you? the empress • ace of swords • page of pentacles.

Gosh, there’s so much love here. They not only miss you, but they want to talk to you… to ask you how to work this out. They just want it to work it out between you two, pile one. Even if it’s difficult, like I mentioned in the previous section, they only want you. They don’t see anyone else for them. They don’t want to let you go, to lose you. It’s why their mind is so foggy and so clouded with poor judgment, they feel a lot of despair over the thought of losing the love you two have and shared. If your connection ended, they’re still not over it - they’re refusing to move on, simply because in their heart, they’ve decided it’s you. And I don’t think they’ve fully voiced it out just how much they want you, but they intend to do so. No matter how painful this situation has become, they hold some sort of hope that you’ll want to work things out with them too. They love you in a pure, devoted way and know how unique, how beautiful this connection is.

channeled messages: “i hate myself for what i did to you”, “i can’t forget you”, “you’re beautiful”, runaway, empty roads, highways, road trips, memories, polaroid pictures, “i wish things were easier”, “you betrayed me”, burning bridges, “do you still love me?”, deja vu.

channeled song: ghostin’ by Ariana Grande.

PILE TWO 🩷

what do they think about you? the magician • the lovers • the world

I couldn’t name a more beautiful spread. They put you on a pedestal, sort of - this person sees all that you are and they’re amazed. They admire you, they love you and they can’t see anyone else but you. This person’s got heart eyes when they look at you, maybe their eyes sparkle - pay attention next time you speak to them in person. Although they may wonder if they’re good enough for you, this person truly, deeply is inspired by you. It’s possible this is a friend of yours who’s crushing on you and vice-versa, but neither one of you is willing to admit it yet. This is a dreamy vibe, even, I feel like I’m immersed in Piscean energy. Maybe one of you is Neptune dominant or has Pisces in 1st. It’s the feeling of a high school crush, the intense, beautiful and almost soul-crushing one, but the kind of connection that has a lasting impact. Even if you haven’t known this person for a long time, they are eager to know more about you, all the little things that you do and say are stuck in the back of their mind. They don’t take it for granted. You’re extremely important to them, regardless of the nature of this relationship, you’re someone they want around.

how do they feel towards you? three of cups • five of wands • nine of swords.

They’re anxious, because they’ve got some heavy competition. Even if they see all these positive qualities in you, this person is afraid they’ll ruin the friendship by risking it. So many people are interested in you, that they’re afraid of rejection, afraid of all the people vying for your attention and sometimes, they just wish they could get rid of these feelings already. It’s possible there’s a 3rd party situation going on - either you or them could be in a committed relationship and there’s a lot of guilt and anxiety involved. You’re this person’s wish come true, but they don’t know what to do. They’re stuck in their head about it, fantasizing about coming towards you, talking to you and not feeling so insecure or jealous when they see you with someone else. I got the vivid imagery of someone seeing their crush talking to someone else at a party and being almost soul crushed by the fact that they’re so afraid of approaching the other. It’s giving me fanfiction vibes (in the best way possible, I promise). I’m almost sorry for this person because they’re so blindsided by their pessimism that they can’t fully see a way into being with you, no matter how much they want to. They know they need to make a move before they lose you for good, though.

channeled messages: “i’m so sick of love songs”, “i just want to talk to you”, instagram, DM’s, subtle flirting, “are you alone tonight?”, crush, “i feel invisible”, insecurity, jealousy, bonfire party, college life, “give me back my jacket”, inside jokes.

channeled song: Are You Bored Yet? by Wallows ft. Clairo.

PILE THREE 💖

what do they think about you? eight of cups • six of cups • the devil.

“Gone for good”, I just heard that. My playlist started playing sad breakup songs too, it’s honestly a little heartbreaking and quite bittersweet. This person thinks, well, they know you’ve left them behind and you seem done with them. You left them and they’re triggered. They’ve got so much going on in their head, always filled with “what ifs”. Your connection has turned sour and they think you wanted to pursue something better for yourself, something that didn’t trigger the both of you so much. I feel like this connection may have turned toxic, so they know you needed to leave, but nonetheless, they’re grieving, they’re sour and bitter. I don’t know if this person was heavily immature towards you or even disrespectful, but you left them on a chokehold because they didn’t expect you to simply walk away so easily. I don’t think it’s been easy for either one of you. I’m more so feeling a situationship or a friendship kind of vibe here, not a full, official commitment. Everything they see in you is almost a projection of their worst fears. All your worst traits mirror back to them, calling them to do some soul deep healing. I saw the Death card in the back of my mind, so I think this person knows it’s time to move on, to let you go, but they’re still obsessing over this ending you’ve had and it’s possible they lurk on your social media. It’s not an evil or malicious energy, but they’re not in a good headspace to talk or see you right now.

how do they feel towards you? two of swords • knight of cups • ten of wands.

Sometimes they love you, they miss you. Sometimes they just hate everything that came to be about the two of you. They’re tired, overburdened by their feelings, so sick of feeling so much and nothing at the same time. This person can’t really pinpoint exactly what they feel for you, but I got nauseous and almost sick to my stomach? I think they just wish they could erase this pain forever, but sometimes, they wish they could get some closure from you as well. It’s possible they wish they could give you some closure as well. All these messy feelings are taking their time in this person’s heart and body, but I think this connection, as triggering as it may have been, has brought up a lot of things back into the surface. Regardless of how they feel about you, it all ties back to their wounds, their feelings and themselves. I got some heavy Scorpio feelings in the last section and now I’m getting some Libra - I feel like those were significant energies and placements for your pile. This person’s not only heartbroken but almost… burnt out by everything that went down. They’re slowly trying to heal, to let go and forgive, but they’re not having the easiest time. I don’t think they’re “evil eyeing” you in any way, but I also think some distance will do the both of you some good. I feel like Spirit wants to emphasize how good this ending will be for you.

channeled messages: “you deserve better”, “i want to go back to who i was, mental health, physical health, “get over it”, 777, friends with benefits, messing around, fuck around and find out, taylor swift, moved on, finally, second chances, “i was a second option”, simply unrequited.

channeled song: Berenstein by The Band CAMINO | extra: Favourite Song by Tim Chadwick.

PILE FOUR 🩵

what do they think about you? the magician • ace of cups • six of swords.

You’re so nurturing, healing and magical. This person sees you as some sort of fairy, a beautiful, wholesome person who’s got so much love to give and to receive. Even the song that started playing is one of my favorites, a very healing and soft one. They see you as a safe person, an Earth angel, someone who’s almost like their lucky charm. The vibes here aren’t only romantic - they fit for friendships and familial relationships too. They’ve got a lot of fond memories and stories of you. I see someone going through a photo album and laughing to themselves in joy. This person sees a lot of good things in you and you’ve given them some sort of renewed faith in connections and humanity. They know you’ve been through a lot - they see you’re still healing. Every now and then, they catch glimpses of moments when you’re not feeling so good, but they still see your potential and growth nonetheless. I think your words and presence calm this person down. They value your advice immensely, all your words of wisdom and encouragement. I feel like Gemini and Leo are significant placements for this pile - I got the Strength card in the back of my mind, with the woman caressing the lion in the card. You bring calm and softness to this person’s life.

how do they feel towards you? queen of pentacles • ace of pentacles • two of wands.

I heard “wife you up”, lol. If this is a romantic connection, this person wants to offer you a deeper form of commitment - in whatever way that means for your connection. I feel like this person is smitten by you, even if you’re friends, you’re their closest, most prized friend. They’re making plans for something bigger, something greater between the two of you. This person views you as someone they could have ultimate success in every way, someone trustworthy and someone they intend on making accommodations for to fit in their life. It’s so soft and sweet, I see a woman arranging and rearranging pillows in a soft-looking bedroom to make sure her guests will be comfortable during their stay. I think they’re making room for you in their heart and mind, even their home as well. Maybe they haven’t told you, but they’re giddy to have met you and to spend more time with you. If this person proposes to you soon, please don’t tell them I told you! I’m not trying to ruin their plans, but let me say your connection has some really sweet, lovely surprises along the way. If you get engaged though, let me know, pile four. I’m really happy for you!

channeled messages: “fight for you”, “let me love you”, acts of service, bouquets, rainy days, “put your head on my shoulder”, “it’s okay to cry”, “i want to be there for you”, “you don’t have to pretend with me”, cupping someone’s face in your hands, comfort food, hugs, ice cream, care bears, pisces, cancer, healing, therapy, inner child.

channeled song: Room Service by Holly Humberstone | extra: Break For You by Valley.

amourdivine. 2021 - 2023 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

551 notes · View notes

smuthospital · 1 year

Text

⭐️Yandere Miguel Ohara⭐️

Premise: You're a scientist, and Miguel is struck with a strange virus while out on the field. It's up to you to help him

Warning: Non-con, aphrodisiac, biting, fem reader

Minors DNI

You fiddle with your handbag nervously as you walk into the large building, entering the main foyer. You walk up to the main desk to see no one manning it. Just before you were about to look for an employee, a hologram flashes before your eyes. "Ah, you must be here for the interview. I'm Lyla, Miguel's AI assistant. Miguel's office is on the top floor. The elevator is to the right. Good luck!" You nod, thanking her before scurrying off. "Grumpy pants is really gonna like this one. Just his type," she chuckles, just out of earshot before disappearing. You're sweating bullets as you enter the elevator. You hope no one can see your sweat through the clothes you carefully selected for today.

You press the top floor key and wait. The ride to the top is agonizingly long. The doors opened to reveal a long corridor with a set of double doors at the end. You hesitantly knock followed by silence...Maybe he's not in? "Ugh. What now!?" A deep voice booms from the other side, the door immediately swinging open to reveal a very, very large angry man leaning over you. Surprise paints his face as he looks down upon you. He forgot he had one last interview for the day. Lyla snickers behind him, purposefully withholding your arrival for this scene. "O-oh! My apologies, please come in. (Y/n), was it?" He moves out of the way, allowing you to walk into his spacious office. He takes notice of the way your hips sway as you walk. He shakes his head, trying to dispel his unwanted thoughts. "Yes, that's me. It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Ohara," you say, smiling up at him.

He chuckles. It's adorable and strange at the same time to see someone so cute trying to be professional. "The pleasure is all mine. Have a seat,(Y/n)." He enjoys the way your name slides off his tongue. He sits at his desk and you take a seat in front. He crosses his arms over his chest, making his biceps bulge. It's as impressive as it is intimidating. You feel like a small bug before him. Your hands are clamming up. You barely make eye contact with him, opting to stare at the ground. Your resume was a good match for the position and his team of scientists were looking for a helping hand with experiments. It also helped that you were required to submit a photo with your resume and he liked what he saw. He must admit that you look even better in person. More promising candidates came before you, but you had his favour, not that he would ever admit that, even to himself. He asked you a few questions about yourself, knowing he'd hire you as soon as you walked in.

"Your resume was quite impressive. We could use a hard worker like you around here," he says as his eyes drift down from your pretty face down to your sexy collar bones...and accidentally land on your slightly open blouse that shows a delicious amount of skin. "Thank you. I admire all the work you and the scientists do here and I wanted to be a part of it." His eyes snap back up to yours. He inwardly shames himself for allowing himself to indulge in your appearance so much. It looks like you didn't notice his perversion. He smiles down at you, still having heard your response.

He stands up from his seat and outstretches his large hand towards you. You blush furiously and take his hand in yours. You watch your hand disappear as it's completely engulfed by his. He relishes the feeling. Chills of pleasure go down his spine. your hands are so delicate and smooth in his. He gives it a firm shake. "It was nice meeting you. Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Ohara, " you say smiling up at him with that same sweet-as-candy look from before. So Polite! Miguel has already taken such a liking to you. He hesitantly releases your hand, missing the feeling of your soft skin on his. "I'll be looking forward to your help around here, (Y/n). Have a nice day." He curses quietly to himself as he watches you leave the room, finding his eyes land on your ass once again. The spider in him is telling him to do awful things to you. Those stupid instincts of his.

Your first day of work comes and you're welcomed by the senior scientists instantly. You're the youngest member of the team. You now have the important task of assisting the other scientists with their tests. Venom testing, finding antidotes for said venoms, and going on coffee runs! You worked very hard in school to get this position, studying tirelessly day and night so you were a bit disappointed when the majority of your tasks were just coffee runs and grunt work, but you're still very grateful to be able to at least watch them at work.

A few days pass and you get the hang of your duties. The scientists usually appear extremely tired and overworked. That's when they wore their pyjamas to work and you went on the most coffee runs. Your co-worker appears before you with a stack of documents and a box of test tubes and tiredly sets them down before you, causing the table to shake. "Here, girl. Take these to Miguel. He was struck by a monster that's given him some...unwanted side effects. The antidote and ans the originally tested venom are in here. He's expecting them very soon so hurry...And bring back some coffee!" He doesn't give you a chance to respond, going back to his desk where a larger pile of papers lies before him along with four empty cups of coffee. Afraid of angering your exhausted senior, you quickly take the papers and make your way to the elevator. You begin to get nervous again, not ready to see the large muscly man so soon.

Miguel paces around in his office, quickly taking a seat behind his desk when he hears you knock. "Come in," he shouts. You notice he's a bit off when you enter. He seems nervous.. and he's blushing. He can't stop his eyes from focusing on your most intimate parts. Try as he might, he can't look away. The way he's looking at you is...frightening to say the least. His hands clench and unclench as beads of sweat roll down his neck. He swallows hard. He's using all his willpower to stop himself from ripping your clothes off. The priapism mixed with his spider instincts is not a good pair. He is so painfully hard. He already came twice before you came in, the underside of his desk splattered a white mess. "Mr. Ohara, I've brought the test tubes and documents you request-" He cuts you off before you can finish. "Hand me the antidote."

"Yes, sir!" His cock jumps when you call him that. He grunts and digs his palms into the wood of his desk. To you, he just seems upset. You read the labels on the tubes. They're written in classic doctor's handwriting, but from what you can see, one of them is severe priapism and the other is the venom he was injected with. You quickly hand him the tube which he downs immediately. He's quiet for a moment, waiting for his bothersome symptoms to go away, waiting for his swollen cock to finally calm down. He breathes heavily, tapping his foot with his eyes closed. He can't bare to look at you, feeling so very embarrassed. He hopes you haven't picked up on what's wrong with him.

Suddenly, he stops his body going completely still in his seat before he tumbles out of his chair. You have no idea what's going on. You don't even know what he was infected with. "Mr.Ohara!? W-whats wrong!?" You approach the desk, about to look over at him. He's oddly quiet. You're scared. Is he that hurt? Was there something wrong with the antidote? Did you give him the wrong tube? Oh god, you need to inform the lab and the infirmary. "I'm gonna get hel-" He leaps over the desk and lunges at you, an animalistic growl escaping his throat. you let out a scream and dive out of the way just in time. You crawl away from your boss, your heart pounding against your ribcage like it wants to escape.

You look into Miguel's eyes. They're different now. Instead of their usual red-brown colour, they're red with slits. You feel like you're facing off with a jaguar. You have a feeling that the second you move, hell attack. Tears border your eyes as you sit there in fear. Lyla appears once again, but the calm look is wiped off her face at what she sees. She looks Miguel up..and down and realizes what went wrong. She covers her mouth in shock and looks over at you. "(Y/n)! You have to get out of here! Miguel isn't himself!" You look back at her, feeling your limbs go numb. You know you have a limited amount of time to sit there and do nothing. On three, you'll force your body to get up and make for the door.

One...

Two.......

Three!!!

You scramble up from your spot on the ground and make a mad dash for the door, not even looking back. You don't need to though. You can feel him behind you. You can feel his claws barely grazing your back. You can hear his footsteps right behind yours. You open the door and slam it behind you. You know that won't hold him and just as expected, he bursts through it and starts chasing you on all fours. You continue running down the hall and slam your hand on the elevator button. By gods grace, it opens immediately. You think it may have been Lyla.

You waste no time getting in the elevator and pressing the emergency shut button a second before he would have joined you in there. You breathe a sigh of relief and click the button for the lab floor. Hopefully, in his animalistic state, he doesn't know how to operate an elevator...You were right, he doesn't, but it doesn't matter. You hear a loud slam and see a dent form in the elevator. then another and another. You scream and cry as he pries the doors apart before the elevator could start moving. Your only chance of escape is getting past him and using the stairs. Right as he gets the elevator doors wide enough, you slip between his legs and run towards the stairs.

He grows and chases after you. You've never been more scared in your life. In your panic, you trip over your own feet, sending yourself tumbling down the stairs. although it hurt, you fell faster than you could run. You lift your head from the concrete to see Miguel jumping six steps at a time. You get up as quickly as you can and enter the floor below Miguel's office. Spiders are looking at you questioningly, wondering why a scientist is running around crying and screaming like a lunatic. their confusion is cut short when they see Miguel burst from the stairwell, knocking over everything and everyone in his path to you.

"P-Please! Help me!" you scream. Spiders immediately get between you and him, but it doesn't last long before he's throwing them around like rag dolls. You take the opportunity to run down the next stairwell, hoping to find somewhere to hide. You make it two floors below and hide under a desk. You curl into yourself and cover your mouth with both your hands, trying to muffle your ragged breathing and whimpering. You shut your eyes and take deep breaths, trying to calm yourself when you feel a tap on your shoulder. Your soul nearly flies out of your body when a hand rubs your knee followed by a hush. You look over to see that it's just a spider. They lean in and whisper "Shh it's ok, love. I'm Hobbie. We have to get you out of here. We're going to capture boss man. Follow m-" The desk over the two of you goes flying. Miguel stands there with heaving shoulders, eyes just as wide and animalistic as before. The Hobbie takes your arm and crashes through the side of the building, swinging down and crashing down into the main atrium.

It looks like your arrival was prepared because a large team of spider people and the science team are already there waiting for you. You remind yourself to thank Lyla later. You scream as you and Spiderpunk continue to be chased by a very persistent Miguel. Spiders try to stop him, shooting webs and attacking him but he just busts right through them again. He's unstoppable. Your legs are getting tired and your lungs are burning. You can't take much more of this. Miguel is used to this sort of activity, but you're just a scientist. Miguel bars his fangs at you. He's gone completely feral. What was he even infected with?

An electric red web shoots out toward you. You think it's over for you, but open your eyes to see that Spiderpunk got in front of you. "Go! Keep running! Jess will find you!" He shouts. You reach a dead end with a bathroom. With no other choice, you run in and hide in a stall. It's silent for a moment. No footsteps, no sounds. Just as you think you lost him, you feel a hot sticky liquid hit your cheek. You look up in terror. It's Mr. Ohara. It finally clicks what he's been affected with. The liquid came from the bulge in his suit. He jumps down from the ceiling, landing on his feet and towering over you. You fall back, immediately clambering out of the stall through the bottom gap. He breaks the door off its hinges, following right after. Just as he's about to reach for you, a red light flashes. Miguel is caught in his containment device. Jess helps you to your feet. "(Y/n), are you ok? You did a good job leading him to a closed area." That was a complete accident, but you don't have the breath in your lungs to tell her that. You look over to Miguel to see him snarling and slashing at the red cage with the sharp attachments of his suit, his eyes never leaving your form. Your face is red for all sorts of reasons now. His cock is still visibly leaking arousal,

Finally. He's contained. The science team could help him from in there. After the sudden events, you let out a sob. You were chased through HQ by the strongest man in there. If it weren't for Jess, he would've... You sniffle. You're led back to the science team by Jess. They all look at you like they've seen a ghost. You assume it's because of what happened. Jess pulls them to the side and whispers between themselves. You can't make out what they're saying. After they split up, the scientists get back to work, sending you suspicious glances now and then. You must be in trouble. Jess walks into the room and whispers to the scientists, who suddenly look frantic. Jess grimaces. She pauses in her spot, looking at the ground before walking over to you. "Hey, sweetie, we got Miguel back to himself. We gave him a double shot of antidote to counteract his double shot of venom. He'd like to apologize to you now if that's okay with you." She extends her hand and you take it, feeling reassured. You're happy the nightmare is over. Jess helps you up and leads you back up to Miguel's office.

You look around at the wreckage. Miguel has caused quite a mess. The doors need to be replaced. All of them. You arrive at Miguel's office door, which seems to have been repaired with webs. You're about to enter when you hear a soft growl from the other side. Your heart rate accelerates. Jess shoves you through the door and uses her webs to stick it shut before you can even think of running. You bang on the door, not even facing the monster you're trapped in there with. "I'm sorry, (Y/n). This is the only way we can calm him. He broke through his containment device before we could make an antidote strong enough and he's too dangerous to let him roam free." You continue banging on the door, trying to push it open in vain. "No! Please! Let me out! I'm begging you, please!"

Your heart sinks into your stomach as you hear her footsteps fade away. A shadow encompasses you from behind. You're ripped away from the door and thrown to the floor, knowing the wind out of you. You scream as the monster known as Miguel Ohara climbs over you, his arms holding yours sown and jaw snapping towards your neck viciously. You're screaming uncontrollably, ducking away from his snapping teeth, missing him by a hair. "Mr.Ohara! Please stop!" you cry, trying to appeal to his long-lost humanity. His claws dig into your arms, bringing your torso up and smashing you back into the floor, winding you for a second time.

He latches his mouth onto your neck, his fangs sinking into your soft flesh. You cry out in pain as blood leaks past his lips before you feel a cold liquid enters the wound from his fangs. Slowly, you lose the ability to move any part of your body. You feel his ginormous bulge press into your clothed crotch. He grabs onto your waist, grunting while violently humping into you until you feel a hot wetness explode onto you. He came through his suit, soaking you.

You're helpless as he releases your arms and inhales your scent, moaning as he breathes out. He sinks his body lower on yours, pausing at your chest. He raises a clawed finger and begins tearing it in two from the center. Once off, he does the same to your bra, exposing your breasts. He doesn't hesitate to lick your nipple, lapping at it and tweaking the other with his fingers. He sinks lower on you and digs his nose into your crotch, pressing in and inhaling. The clothes protecting your pussy from his hungry eyes don't last long, falling to the floor in pieces.

He licks a stripe up your pussy and stares into your eyes. You try to tell him to stop, but your lips and tongue won't move the way you want them to. Noises slip past your parted lips in a pathetic attempt at begging. Your face burns bright. He grunts as his suit rubs against his throbbing cock. He rips his suit at the crotch to free his painful erection and climbs over you, his monstrous cock rubbing against your cunt. You whine in protest. as he lifts your thighs and puts them on his shoulders, leaning over you to lock you in a mating press. Tears run down your hot cheeks. This will kill you! Or render you handicapped at the very least!

He hisses as he pushes forward. You squeeze your eyes shut. Oh god, it hurts! He's stretching you open on his cock. Inch by inch, he sinks himself in. With nowhere else to go, his cock forms a large bulge in your lower stomach. A pained moan escapes your throat. he rears his hips back and rams forward, punching your cervix. He lets out short animalistic grunts and growls. He grunts as he finally manages to bottom out, your cervix screaming for help as you're fully stretched over his massive cock. He doesn't give you a second to adjust, ramming himself in and out rapidly until he thrusts in one last time before you feel hotness shoot inside you. There's so much that your stomach rises from the sheer amount before escaping past his cock. He bucks his hips forward as if to taunt you, forcing his cum deeper inside your already swollen insides. He pants on top of you before slowly unsheathing himself from your abused hole.

Your brain isn't able to process anything but the feeling of your insides and that he's finally done with you. He roughly flips you over on your stomach and pulls your hips back, forcing your back to arch up before him. He presses his thighs to your ass, lining his cock up with your entrance. You whimper, tears leaking from your eyes. He sheathes himself within you again, leaning over you and growing right in your ear. His hips piston in and out of you ferociously, his hot, ragged breath fanning over your neck. Your walls begin to clench around him again. His hands grab your hips, pressing your ass flush to his hips. The height difference causes your knees to lift off the ground. you can feel every inch of him inside you.

Your eyes cross. You can't take much more of this. You're getting drunk off the feeling of being raped by your boss. He ruts faster inside you, smacking sounds echoing through the room. You feel shame pool in your gut along with the same hotness from before. You feel it flow into you before running out of space and running down your thighs. His claws dig into your flesh, causing rivulets of blood to leak past his fingers. You feel your energy drain from you as you come down from your high. He continues pumping in and out of you as you succumb to sleep.

#lemon #non con #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse

583 notes · View notes

ropes3amthoughts · 1 month

Text

Bitches be like “In all the Labru fanart I’ve seen, Kabru is the more masculine and hairier one even when he’s transmasc.” I don’t believe it. Gonna need some evidence. Photo evidence. You know what they say: Can’t believe it until you see it. Unless you’re like blind or religious but I’m not either of those things so I’d like some visual proof to support this claim. You know what they also say? Back up your claims with evidence. For a claim like this? I’m gonna need some photo evidence. This is just like the scientific process, you know? This is just smart analytical thinking. And you know, you can’t just have one piece of data. You have to have several to confirm it’s true. At least like 10 examples of this would be good. Just gotta be through, you know? Oh, but what if there’s like deviation and stuff? You know, maybe somebody outta send me 20 examples of this, just in case. We really gotta make sure our claims are backed up here. Really, all it would take is like if someone sent me maybe 28 images of fanart where Kabru is masc and hairy. This is all scientific and professional. Oh, and since this is just supporting the claim that Kabru is depicted that way, you don’t really need to include Laios. You know it could just be fanart in general of Kabru like that. This is for the sake of backing up claims of course. We don’t want to be saying wrong things, right? So we should really compile all the evidence. Preferably on this post or in my inbox or anywhere else I could keep track of it. You know, I’m actually very organized, so if someone were to send me 34 Kabru fanarts where he is masc and hairy, I would be able to keep them all together. I’m very professional like that. I’m someone you could trust to send 52 fanarts of Kabru to. I’m so trustworthy, you could even send me 67 of them and I would keep them all in order. Perchance if someone were to, for whatever reason, send me 79 of them, I would be able to deal with that as well. You know, the more the merrier? This also the case in science. The more data you analyze, the more accurate the results. Really, you should send me the fanart where Kabru is masc and hairy and where he isn’t so I can compare them. This is just the data analysis process of course. Maybe I could get like 86 of each? You know, for science? I took science classes in school, so I’m very qualified to talk about what I’m talking about right now. AU on the periodic table is gold. That’s just from my head. That’s how science I am. And for the sake of science, maybe we should really expand our pool of data. Maybe we should get Kabru art where he is masc, where is fem, and where he is genderbent and masc, and genderbent and fem. You know, having all of this data is so scientific because scientists love data. You know the saying? A data a day keeps the scientist sane. Yeah. They call me doctor because of how science. You should trust me with 200 of each type of Kabru fanart. I am very trusty. I even have a resume that says “Trusty trusty trusty” because that’s how trusty I am. I think it would be very helpful if I received 700 of each type of Kabru fanart. Did I already specify cis and trans Kabru? I can’t remember but my memory will improve once I receive 9000 fanart of Kabru. That’s actually a proven fact by science. I’m science so it’s true. It would also help improve my brain functions if Kabru in those fanarts has body hair regardless of gender. Did you know? Kabru fanart. Yes? Send to me. Ooh you wanna send me Kabru fanart so bad 🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀. Guys? You might wanna see this. These readings say if you don’t send me Kabru fanart I am going to explode in the next five minutes. Send me 1838392020 Kabru fanart and tell your friends to do the same to save me from exploding. I’m a visual learner so I need Kabru fanart for my education. Pleaseeeee

Me when no Kabru fanart ☹️ Me when yes Kabru fanart 🥰. See the sad vs happy? The happy is good. In order to happy, I require 47373828289394848494 Kabru fanart. I am not very picky and I will also enjoy canonical Kabru images. Just send me 37382929929293948484 Kabru images and I will be all good. I also accept Kabru fanfic, headcanons, theories, rants, edits, and literally anything. Just 474838292928447477473822933949484 more Kabru until smiley face. Pretty please. Come on guys. I will even give you an example.

Not Kabru. I don’t want this. ❌

Yes Kabru. I want this. ✅ If you send me this I will be in love with you forever

Moral of the story send me Kabru please please please please please please PLEAS EPLEASS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PEASEE PLEASE PLEASE PLEAS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE OLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PELASE PLEASE PPEASEPLEASEPLEASE PLEASE OLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLRASE PLELASD PLEASE EPLEASS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEPLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PELADOODOROEOEP PLESSE PEODLDD PLEASE PLEASS PLEASE PLEASE PEPSLSDS PLEASE PLESS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLESS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLESS PLEES PLEAS PLEASE PLEASE PLEAS PLEASE PLEASE PPEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLES SPLEASS PLEASE PLEAS PLESSE PLESSE PLESSE PLESSE PELSELEPEES PLEASE PLEASPDOEPDODLS PLESS PLESSE PLEASE PLEAS PLEADE OEOSLSOE PLEASE PLEAS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASEE EPLLSLLSLSPSS PLEASE PLEASD PLEAS PLEAS PLEAS PLESS PLEASE PLESSE PLEASE PLEASE PLESDE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEAS SPLEASS PLCSEE PLEASD PLEASE PLEASE PLESSE PLEAS PLEASE PLEAS PLESSPDOE PLEASE PLESS PLE PLES PLES PLEASD PLES PLE SPL EPLE PLEAS PLESSD PLEASE PLEASE PLEADEPLEADD PLEASE PLEASE PLEADE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLESSE PLESD PLEASE PLESSE PLEAS PPSEE LEAS PLEAS PLEESD PLESS PLEASS LLEASD PLESS PLEADE PLEASS PLEASE PLEAS PLEASE PLEAS SPLEASD PLEASE PLESD PLESS PLESSE PLESD PLEAD DPLRSDD PLEAD PLESD PLEASE PLESD PLEASE PLESDE PLESD PLESD PLESD PLEASE PLESDE PLESDE PLESDE PLESD PLESDE PLRSD PLESD PLESD PLESDE PLRSD PLESDE PLESD PLEDR PLESD PLEASE PLEADE PLEADE PLESDE PLEASE PLESDR LLRS R PLSSE PLEASE PLESD PLESDPLEVRPL PLEACR PLASC PLEASE PLESD PLEAS PLESD PLESS PLESSE PLEAS PLEASE PLEASE PLEAS PLEASE LOESS PLEAS PLEAS PLEAS PLEASE PLEAS PLEASS PLEASE PPEASE PLEAS PLEAD PLASE PLEAS PLEAS PLA EPLEAE PLEA E PLEA E PLEA E PLEASE PLEAE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEAS PLEAE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEADE PLEADE PLEADE PLASEE OLASE PLASE PLADR PLSE PLEAS OLEASE PLESDIR PLESDE PLESD PLESD EOELSE PLSDE PLESS PLESDR LSDE PLESD PLESD PLESDE PLEADE PLESSE PLEESD PLAEE OW MY FINGERS HURT OK IM TAKING S BREAK JOLD ON ok I took a break my fingers feel better and I drank some water too 👍 thumbs up? This is just how I feel when I see Kabru. If yes Kabru, yes thumbs up. Please Kabru to thumbs up. If you send me Kabru, I will say “Thank you so much I love you ☺️💕👏🎉👍” and many other nice things. I am a nice little guy and I will be very thankful if anybody sends me Kabru. It doesn’t matter if I’ve already seen it I want it. Please. I am a gay little guy do you like gay people? Then send me Kabru please. Support gay. Support me. All I need is Kabru. Pretty please I am asking nicely. If you have Kabru, please give it to me :3 I am asking pretty please very nice. Only if you want to though I’m a polite guy who respect boundaries. My boundaries are “Send me Kabru” if you’d like to respect that. If you want to. If you are sending me other people’s Kabru stuff like a messenger, I will love you. If you make Kabru content, I will love you. Send me anything Kabru and I will instantly love you. This is like my video game gift that gets me 10 hearts immediately. Kabru content yes? Respect and love max. I will be a good listener and very nice if you send me Kabru. If you say like “I’ll send you Kabru if you send me Marcille” or something I will agree. I am an agreeable guy. I’m a dealsguy. A business man. I love Kabru. Kabru u my ibuprofen. I wont him. Lauv. It’s only 11 and I’m l ready sleepy. Does anybody have content of Kabru sleeping nicely? I’d appreciate that. I think he should sleep nice. Niceeee. Nice sleep for nice man. Gorgeous man. I want cute pictures of him pretyy lease. He’s cuter than a credit card. Have you seen him? Please tell me if you do I have to report all instances of Kabru. It’s my job and they will fire me if I don’t document all Kabru. Except for explicit nsfw because my employer is 7 years old. We need to document all the other Kabru though. Kabru? We need to write him down. Boy am I bug? Because I want you to hold me in your hands.

My eyes are watering. This has nothing to do with my little sleep and everything to do with my lack of Kabru. Hot singles may or may not appear in your area if you send me Kabru. Your crops may or may not thrive if you send me Kabru. It is possible you will have everything go good for you in life if you send me Kabru. I am tired. I hope when I wake in the morning I will see the 73738292983838843029292939393 Kabru I require to happy. Not very many. If you all work together, I will smiley face emoji. Remember. Kabru. Yes? Send him to me if you can and want to. Please. Thank you :3333333

#hey guys I think we should all send Kabru content to user ropes3amthoughts #several lies are in this post but what’s true and real is I love Kabru and would love content of him #insane ramblings #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #kabru #kabru dungeon meshi #kabru of utaya #kabru dunmeshi #kabru posting #ramble #rant #long post #late night post #rope/spider post

100 notes · View notes

dancingtotuyo · 8 months

Text

6. play my bloody part

Woman | Joel Miller x Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: You take another step forward. Maria goes into Labor.

Tags: Joel Miller X Female Reader. Age Gap (Reader is 42, Joel is 56). HBO Characters. Mostly cannon compliant for show & game. Timeline is changed.

Chapter Warnings: angst, needles, blood, discussions of selfworth, grief (loss of a spouse), childbirth, graphic descriptions of childbirth, traumatic child birth, hemorrhage, likely very bad medical practices (don't try this at home folks, I am not a medical professional), shock, trauma, anxiety

This chapter is intense!

Notes: Thank you to @janaispunkand @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading this! I appreciate all your comments and feedback, and I love you both so much!

Words: 5507

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Playlist

Ellie stops by the clinic a few days later. She stays relatively quiet as you gather supplies. Her eyes track your movements as she swings her legs back and forth from her place on the exam table. You’re not used to her being so quiet.

“Hold out your arm for me?” You give her a reassuring smile.

She listens but seems half a world away. You find a vein with quick precision, letting the blood drip into a glass vial. Your eyes flicker from the collecting blood to her face. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh…” she says. “I guess- why did you agree to do this?”

You cock your head to the side, twisting the top on the vial before you press a cotton ball to the inside of Ellie’s elbow. “You asked. I could at least look at it.”

You press her arm up to hold the cotton there. “Even though you think there’s no point.”

“I never said that.”

Ellie looks you dead in the eye, expression flat. “You thought it. Joel thinks-”

“What does Joel know?” You twist your face, winking at her. A faint smile flashes over her face. “I’m the medical professional here.”

“He talked to Marlene.”

“And Marlene was a doctor? A nurse?”

“No… at least I don’t think so.”

“See, what does she know?” You smile. This time, Ellie actually smiles back. “Now, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you ask me to do this?”

Ellie bites her lip. “I mean if there’s any chance, I have to try right? People could stop dying from this.”

“It’s not your responsibility, you know.”

“What?”

“To save the world.” You say. “It’s not your responsibility.”

“But I’m immune.”

“It’s okay to want to help.” You place the vial in a holder on the counter. The crimson red stands at stark contrast to the sterile-looking clinic.

“I have to help. I have to do something.” Ellie can’t meet your eyes. “It can’t be for nothing.”

“What can’t be?” You tilt your head to the side.

Ellie clenches her fist. Her typically assured demeanor is gone, making her look more like the 15-year-old she is. “Ellie?”

She takes a deep, shaky breath, lip quivering slightly. She doesn’t cry, waiting until she’s more assured to answer. “A lot of people died for me. It can’t be in vain.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She’s quick to answer, looking away.

“That’s okay.” You nod slowly. “But Ellie?”

There’s a pause. She sighs deeply. You can see the tears glistening in her eyes now. She’s fighting so hard to keep it all together. “Yeah?”

“Those people, they made a choice to do that. From what Joel’s told me, it sounds like they did that without even asking you first.”

“What do you mean?”

You hold out a hand in front of her arm, the one with the bites on it. She’s hesitant at first but eventually lets it rest in your palm. You look over the raised skin where the tendrils of fungus are or were. You’re not sure if they’re still there, or if her body just stopped the progression of them. “You get to decide what happens to you, Ellie. Just because you’re immune doesn’t mean doctors or scientists or whatever form of power gets to make decisions for you.” She meets your eyes. You squeeze her hand. “You don’t owe the world anything for just existing.”

She chews on her lip, making you worry that she might draw blood. Her voice is quiet like she’s scared to say the words. “What good am I if there’s no cure?”

“Ellie.” Your heart breaks for her. You want to gather her in your arms and push all the bad thoughts away. You settle for squeezing her hand again “Your value isn’t tied to your immunity. You’re worth something simply because you exist.”

She tries to brush you off, pull away, and not look at you, but you keep a grip on her hand. “Look at me.” You’re stern. She hesitates but listens. You take a deep breath. “I don’t know if it means much coming from me, but you belong here. Here in Jackson, here in the world. You’re not a bother or an inconvenience, and yes, it sucks that we can’t do anything with your immunity, but that’s not your weight to bear. You understand?”

Her chest quivers. She manages a nod as a couple of tears fall from her eyes. You wipe them away. “And you will always, always, always, have a place in my home. Just waltz right in and I’ll set a plate.”

A small laugh falls from her lips.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” She agrees, a small smile beginning to take over her face. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You smile back. “Now, what do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you still want me to look at it?” You tilt your head toward the vial of blood sitting on the counter.

She stares at it for a minute, contemplating the answers. “Maybe another day? I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You move away, disposing of the vial. You’re not sure how much weight your words hold, but you feel a little proud of her decision.

“Are you going to the dance tonight?”

“I guess.” She shrugs. “Dina and Jesse say I have to.”

“Good. You should.”

“Are you and Joel going?”

“Adam beat Joel in Texas Hold ‘Em last night and is making him go.” You laugh a little at the begrudging attitude Joel met you with last night, but a bet is a bet.

“I bet you could get him to dance.”

You laugh a little, images you’d conjured up in your childhood bedroom spring into your mind. They were the daydreams of teenage delusions, but there’s still a little dip of excitement in your stomach at the thought.

And then you sober up. “I’m not going.”

“If Joel and I are going, you have to come.”

You force a smile. “I don’t go to them anymore.”

“Oh, come on. I bet you’re a great dancer.”

“It’s not about the dancing.”

“What is it about then?” Ellie wears that goofy little prying grin that’s nothing no short of pure curiosity. If Joel were here. You imagine he’d say her name sternly and give her a look.

You sigh, keeping a tight smile on your face. “It was something my husband really enjoyed. I haven’t gone since he died.”

“Oh,” Ellie says as the energy shifts.

“It’s okay, Ellie.” You brush it off. It’s not her fault, and you didn’t have to answer.

She hesitates, and then she knocks into you, arms flying around your torso, knocking the wind from your abdomen. It takes you by surprise, but it’s a good one. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

And then she’s across the room, grabbing her backpack off the exam table. You can’t help but laugh, wondering how she’s managed to hold onto all that wonder and spunk.

“You should still come tonight!” Ellie calls before the clinic door slams shut, leaving you with only your thoughts.

You drop Carter off with Tommy while you walk that night. Maria is on strict bed rest with her due date fast approaching, making them two of only four people not crowded into the Tipsy Bison. You expect to cry on your walk, expect to feel all the emotions that keep you away from the dances, but it doesn’t come even as you round the corner, passing the building that’s overflowing with energy.

Light flickers across the dimly lit street from moving bodies. The doors and windows are open to let the breeze filter through. A few people congregate outside on the patio with boisterous laughter and animated movements. A couple of folks stumble about, already intoxicated. You stop in your tracks, taking it all in. In the past, you’ve doubled back to forgo passing the festivities, but things are different now. Maybe… maybe you’re a little bit different now too.

Then you feel it, almost physically, like someone is pressing on your back, leading you toward the door. The people outside don’t pay you much mind, too caught up in their own worlds. The noise grows louder until you’re inside the Tipsy Bison’s doors.

You pass through the room slowly, almost invisible at first. Then you find him, laughing at the bar with Adam. He’s relaxed. An empty whiskey glass sits in front of him and a full one in his hand. He makes a comment to Adam that earns a playful roll of his eyes. He chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls the glass to his lips. His head cocks to the side. Before his lips make contact with the glass, his eyes lock with yours. He stills, a smile crossing his face. He tips the glass toward you and finishes it off. Then, he’s walking toward you with a determination that makes your insides melt and your toes curl in your boots.

His lips dip to your ear. His voice is low and smooth. “I thought you weren’t comin, Darlin.” His Texas drawl is stronger tonight, not helping the heat that grows in your belly. it sends wicked thoughts through your mind.

You shrug, almost careless about it, but he sees the heat in your eyes. It burns in his too. “Plans change.”

His hand slides around your waist, landing just above your hips. “I like it when your plans change.”

You bite your lip, fighting the urge to pull him out of here and into your bed. “Dance with me?”

A grin spreads across his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He pulls you toward the dance floor. The crowd of bodies seems to part like the Red Sea before you, not that your mind can focus on anyone but Joel. He tugs you close as the band starts their rendition of My Girl. Your arms slide around his shoulders, body flush against him. He smiles at you. It’s like something out of a high school movie. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

He kisses your forehead, and then your head falls to his chest, eyes blinking closed. It feels like such a sacred moment, it’s hard to believe you’re in a room full of people. Joel sways on beat to the music, humming along. It reminds you of the faint singing that used to drift through your bedroom window at night when he would sit out on his front porch with his guitar and the stars. You spent countless hours sitting under an open window listening to him when you fostered that crush, imagining him singing to you.

You never imagined you’d be in his arms at the end of the world, in front of the whole town no less, as you fight your growing feelings for him. It sends a kick-start to your system. Not enough to raise a panic attack, or for onlookers to notice, but Joel feels it in the way your muscles tense and your body straightens in his arms. Your eyes pop open and you catch it- the rumor mill turning. Whispers pass behind shielded hands between pairs throughout the room. Some of them are audacious enough to make contact with you or send a wink your way.

Joel’s breath hits your ear again. “Wanna give them something to really talk about, Sweetheart?”

You look up at him, brows furrowed. He stops swaying, both hands cupping your cheeks. Your breath catches. It feels like the whole room’s does, and then his lips are on you, hot and searing and nowhere near chaste. Joel Miller never struck you as the PDA type, but this feels like more. He’s staking his claim on you, telling them all to shove it. Everyone is here. Everyone can see what’s happening for themselves. For all intents and purposes, this is the night Joel Miller becomes yours in the eyes of the community. You’re off limits, and so is he, and it feels good. There are no words, no spoken acknowledgment of anything, just his actions.

He pulls away, leaving you slightly stunned and hazy. He chuckles. Spinning you around and then pulling you in as the song ends. People clap around you, for the band of course, but you can only look at Joel with a smile that shines like crystal.

Another song starts back up. Another wave of people join the dance floor. People seem disinterested in the very thing that held them captive moments ago. Joel looks like he is two seconds away from dragging you out of the bar as you stare at each other, unmoving.

Tommy runs in, breath ragged and hair a mess. His eyes dart around until they land on you. He calls your name, running toward you. “Tommy, what’s wrong?”

“Maria’s in labor.”

Whatever trance Joel put you under is gone as years of experience snap into place. You turn to him. “Will you grab my clinic key and get the green bag?”

“Of course.” Joel nods and then Tommy grabs your hand, dragging you to the house. Ellie and Joel are not far behind.

Maria is pacing the guest room when you get there, letting out small groans. Like everything else, Maria handles childbirth with grace and dignity- something you wish you could’ve done.

You shake the memories from Carter’s birth from your mind. It’s mostly a blur- what you remember from that day haunts you. You were a mess- inconsolable. There was no grace or dignity in it.

“How far apart are your contractions?”

“Hello to you too.” She pops a smile. Your tight lips don’t budge. She sighs. “About three minutes.”

“Three minutes? Maria!”

She waves you off. “You were never more than two minutes away.”

“We agreed on five.”

“I changed my mind.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re a shit patient.”

“I’ve been on bed rest for two weeks, have I not?”

You quirk an eyebrow. She may not have left the house, but you’re not convinced she was following the rest of your instructions.

She waves you off like it’s nothing. “I heard you were at the Tipsy Bison.”

You shoot her a glare. “You are literally on the verge of having a baby, Maria. My social life is unimportant.”

“I can still talk in labor.”

“Not about this.”

“Oh come on, I’m going to be here all night. Might as well entertain me.” She grins.

“No. Now let me check your cervix.”

Maria sighs, sitting on the bed. “I think we’re too close as friends.”

Maria’s labor moves quickly. Before midnight, the baby is crowning. You’re coaching Maria through it as Tommy stays by her side, offering what support he can. Maria lets out low moans as she works through contractions, bearing down when you say. Sweat dampens her brow. She’s tired but determined. “How much longer?”

You meet her eyes, giving her an encouraging smile. “You’re almost there. One or two more, Okay?”

She nods, and then another contraction hits. You feel them in your hands, guiding the newest member of Jackson, Wyoming into the world. There’s a long pause, there always is, you never get used to it, you’re quick to clear airways, and then he takes a deep breath, and tiny little wails fill the room.

Relief fills Maria’s eyes and looks of awe and wonder fill the couple’s faces. You can’t help but let out a joyful little laugh. “It’s a boy.”

You place him on Maria’s chest. The proud parents crowd around him, their voices softening, pitching up as they soak in their first moments of a family of three.

“Tommy, you wanna cut the cord?”

He nods. You show him where to do it, and then he’s right back at Maria’s side, caressing his son’s head.

“He’s got so much hair,” Tommy says. Tears gather in the new parents’ eyes.

You’re quiet as you tidy up. Before you slip out, Maria grabs your hand. “Thank you.”

You smile at your best friend. “Of course. Anything for y’all.” She squeezes your hand and you return the gesture. “I’ll give you a few minutes and then be back in to finish up.”

She nods. You wash your hands in the hall bathroom, shedding the soiled apron you wear. Joel greets you when you come out. He raises his eyebrows. “I heard crying, and it sure as hell wasn’t Tommy.”

You laugh. “It’s a boy.”

You see Joel’s happiness for his brother on his face before the big smile ever crosses it. He wraps his arms around you. You lean in, laying your head on his chest. His heart beats beneath your ear steady as a drum. The stress you’ve been carrying for months over this day starts to dissipate from your body. It’s here. He’s here. It happened. You made it through.

Tommy peaks his head out. “Maria says she’s ready for you.”

You nod. Joel kisses your head and you pull away, warm energy thrumming in your veins. Maria looks almost annoyed when she sees you, knowing what’s coming.

“He have a name yet?”

“No,” Tommy looks pointedly at his wife. “She swore we were having a girl. Wouldn’t even discuss boys’ names.”

Maria rolls her eyes, making you laugh. “Tommy, go make yourself useful and get me some water.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Tommy chuckles, the grin unwipable from his face. His hand runs over his son’s head before he leaves.

Maria shifts slightly, careful not to disturb the sleeping infant at her side. She lets out a soft hiss.”

“You good?”

“Yeah, you know how it is. Pretty sure the placenta is already out.”

You nod, kneeling at the end of the bed. You’re relieved to see the placenta delivered, fully intact. There’s some bleeding, but no more than what you’d expect. Another relief. “We should get Tommy in here to move you back to your room. How do fresh sheets sound?”

“Like a slice of heaven.” She smiles.

You move Maria to their room, Tommy sweeping her into his arms like a groom would carry his wife on their wedding night. They throw baby names back and forth as they cross the hall. You carry the baby, swaddled and sleeping. Once he’s tucked into his mother’s arms, you set to work cleaning up. It’s always the hardest part as the adrenaline fades from your bones. Tommy and Maria’s bickering floats across the hallways as you do, making you laugh. This baby may never get named at the rate they’re going.

The first time Tommy calls out your name. It doesn’t register. The second time is much more urgent and he’s in the doorway of the guest room. He’s gone pale, breathing heavily.

Your stomach drops. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s bleedin. It’s soaked through the towel.”

“Shit.” You drop what’s in your hand, grabbing your bag of supplies.

Tommy is at Maria’s side. You lift the blanket and your heart drops. You glance back up at Maria. She looks tired. You’d expect it, but this feels different. “How do you feel?”

“Like I just had a baby.” She tries to joke, but it falls flat. She knows this is bad too. “A little lightheaded.”

There’s another gush of blood. A clot that’s bigger than it should be. “Fuck, Fuck, fuck.” Your breathing turns ragged. There’s too much blood and more appears bringing another large clot with it. She’s hemorrhaging.

“What should I do?” Tommy asks. He’s panicking.

“Go get Joel.” Tommy tries to protest. You cut him off. “Get Joel back in here.” You leave no room for debate, but he still hesitates. “Now!”

He finally listens. Maria locks eyes with you. She knows. You see the fear in her eyes, and it knocks the breath out of you. You’ve never seen Maria scared. She’s always so sure and sturdy, but not now. Her skin has gone dull, losing its typical vibrance, like the life is slowly draining from her. You want to sit on the floor and weep, but you have to push through. “Deep breaths, Maria. I need you to stay as calm as possible.”

You dig through your bag, pulling out everything you need.

Joel is barely across the threshold when you direct him to the chair next to the bed. He doesn’t have time to ask questions. He knows it’s best not to. “You promise you’re O negative?”

“Yes, why?” He hardly gets the words out before you clean his arm with high-proof moonshine and insert the needle in his vein. He winces. You’re efficient, ensuring there’s no air in the tube before inserting the other end into Mari’s arm. You glance down at your watch, noting the time.

“Keep your arm elevated. If you start to get dizzy, you tell me.” You’re stern. You leave no room for argument. Joel watches as his blood flows through the short plastic tube connected to Maria.

You have no idea if this will work. She’s probably losing blood too fast and the risk of complications looms in your mind, but you’ve never had someone survive a hemorrhage like this before. It’s your only hope and you will do everything within your power to keep Maria on this earth.

Maria stays as quiet as she can. She’s focused on her son, memorizing everything about him, so you focus on saving her life.

“What’s happening?” Tommy stays in the doorway. You don’t turn around. You can’t stop what you’re doing. You have to stop the bleeding. It’s the only thing on your mind now. “Tell me what’s happening to my wife!”

“She’s trying to save your wife’s life!” Joel snaps. “Let her do her job.”Joel keeps his eyes pinned to you.

“Tommy,” Maria says. “Come here.” Her voice is weak and raspy. You have to push it out of your mind. If you don’t, you’ll break. You can’t break right now.

Tommy kneels next to Maria and his son. He’s caressing both their heads. You’re sure he’s crying. You’re not convinced you’re not crying too, but you’re too preoccupied to take stock of it.

You know when she goes unconscious, but you don’t hear anything from Tommy. The room is so silent as you rotate between massaging Maria’s uterus and packing it. You’re running out of semi-sterile material. Has the bleeding slowed down? How long has this been going on? It feels like a lifetime. You can’t spare a second to look at your watch.

Joel’s arm drops a little. It’s getting tired. “Keep your arm higher than her head.” You spare a look at Joel only because it pertains to Maria’s health. “Stand if you have to, but slowly.”

The blood loss appears to be slowing down, but you don’t. You keep going and going and going, until you’re sure it’s stopped. Then, you just sit there and wait. Tommy wants to demand answers, but Joel glares him into silence.

You dare you to step back. You’re on autopilot, the adrenaline wearing off long ago. You check her heartbeat and her blood pressure. Neither is great, but it could be worse. You dare to hope you’ve seen the worst of it.

Joel stumbles forward a little bit, catching himself on the bed frame.

“Shit.” You rush over to his side, guiding him back into the chair.

“I'm fine, I’m fine.” He brushes you off, making sure his arm is still raised. You see the shake of it.

You check your watch. It takes you longer than it should to do the math. “Fuck, you’ve been hooked up for too long.”

Joel stops your hand before it can pull. “No, no. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You’re done.”

“No, Maria… she’s not awake yet… she-” Tommy stands up.

“She’s not waking up.” You face him.

He loses any color he has left, panic-stricken across his face. “What?”

“Fuck,” you cringe. “I mean tonight, Tommy. She’s not waking up tonight. She needs to rest.”

“So she’s going to be okay?”

You want to assure him. You look at their newborn baby sleeping in the bassinet in the corner. You don’t know when he was moved and it doesn’t matter. You want to promise Tommy that he’s not going to be a widower, that their son won’t be motherless, but you can’t.

“I don’t think she’s going to die from blood loss anymore.”

It’s a small assurance, but it’s all you have to give. When you attempt to remove the needle from Joel’s arm this time, he lets you. The bandage feels so delicate and small compared to the trauma you just dealt with. You struggle with it. Joel takes over for you.

“You need food, something to drink,” you say.

“I’ll get it,” Joel says.

You push him back into the chair. “You’re in no condition to walk downstairs.”

“Neither are you.” He says, eyes traveling over your frame.

You furrow your brow. You don’t understand. You don’t see or feel the blood that dresses you, not yet

“Ellie!” Joel yells.

It’s a stark contrast to the quiet encapsulating the room. You hear her footsteps up the stairs. She enters, eyes going wide. She surmised something wasn’t right, but the copious amounts of blood are startling. “Holy shit.”

“Will you bring up some food? Water?” Joel looks to you to confirm.

“Fruit.”

Joel nods. “And then take Carter home?”

“I should-” you go to say.

“No.” Joel cuts you off. He takes your hand, thumb running over your knuckles. “Not tonight.”

Ellie nods. She knows now is not the time for the many questions running through her mind. “Yeah, of course.”

Tommy clears his throat, still searching for answers. You sigh. “I can’t promise anything, Tommy. There’s still so much that could happen, but she’s strong.”

“I know how strong my wife is. I need to know that she’ll be okay.” He’s still pushy and you don’t blame him. You’re all on edge.

“I don’t know!” The world blurs before you. “The risk of infection is high, she- she could have complications from-” Your chest rattles. Joel’s hand settles on your back. Tommy can’t look at you. “She’s my best friend, Tommy. I’m doing everything I can.”

Tommy nods. He knows it’s true, but he’s scared. This is Maria. She keeps Jackson going. She keeps you going.

Ellie brings up the food. She wants to do more, you can see it in her eyes. You can’t pull the words out anymore.

“Thank you, kiddo,” Joel says.

Ellie makes a face at the name. She shoves a strawberry in Joel’s face. “Eat this, you look like a ghost.”

“Carter?” You ask.

“Passed out on the couch,” Ellie smiles proudly. You need the relief, you just hate that the 15-year-old bears that responsibility. “Glad he’s potty trained.”

“Thank you, Ellie.”

She nods at you. There’s some hesitation like she might wrap her arms around you for a second time that day. Was that really only hours ago? But she ducks out of the room instead.

You make sure Tommy and Joel eat. You’re amazed that the newborn still sleeps. His chest rises and falls and from your check-up, he seems to be healthy. You check Maria’s blood pressure and heart rate again. It hasn’t gotten worse.

You clean up as best you can without jostling Maria too much. Tommy joins in, working silently alongside you. Much to his displeasure, you make Joel stay seated. It’s another long silence before you’re finished.

“Sweetheart, you need to go home.”

You’re dead on your feet. Your arms feel like lead at your sides. It’s so apparent in all of your movements, but you don’t feel like you can leave her side. Fear flares up in Tommy’s eyes and then he takes in your appearance.

“He’s right,” Tommy says.

You intend to put up a fight, but it doesn’t happen. You feel the exhaustion in every fiber of your being. You’re not sure you won’t collapse at any minute.

You pull out a bottle of antibiotics. Maria would hitch a fit you know, but you don’t care. You’ll do anything you can to make sure she recovers, and you can’t keep the medicine forever. It’s going to be fancy water eventually if it isn’t already. You hand the bottle to Tommy with careful instructions. “If her breathing changes, or she starts bleeding, come get me immediately.”

He nods. “Of course.”

“We’ll stop at Paul and Lindsey’s, she’s still breastfeeding. Little man is going to want to eat any minute.”

Tommy nods. Joel’s arms come around you, supporting you from behind. Your legs attempt to fold but you regain your balance with his help. Glancing between Tommy and Maria, the urge to stay inflames again, but Joel is leading you out of their home before you have time to comprehend it.

He leaves you on the front steps, approaching Paul and Linsey’s on his own. You’re worried about him, sure he gave too much of his blood tonight, but he comes back a few minutes later.

Joel leads you through your house. You want to collapse into bed at first sight, but he tugs you back. “Shower first.”

The small protest dies on your lips the moment you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. You look like you have stepped out of a horror film. You don’t even recognize yourself. Blood, Maria’s blood, coats your shirt and arms. Smudges streak your cheeks. Some of it’s in your hair. It’s endless. Your body begins to shake. You don’t think it’ll ever stop. You lean against the vanity for a semblance of stability. It’s useless. You stare at it all, taking it in, but it doesn’t look like you. It’s like you’re in some faraway space floating around, not connected to your body.

Joel tears your shirt down the back. He’s quick and gentle about it. Your bra is next. He slips off your shoes and then your pants until you’re completely naked. Steam fills the room. Blood soaked through your clothes in some places, painting your skin like modern art. Joel backs you into the shower with ease. You’re pliable, muscles turned to liquid.

Hot water cascades over your body, flooding your eyes. It’s suffocating until Joel pushes your hair out of your face, redirecting the water with his hands. His fingers massage at your scalp over and over. He adds soap to your hair, pulling it through until the grime and blood are gone.

There are no noises, no tears, but you can’t stop the shaking. You must look pitiful standing under the water like a limp doll as you lose control of your body.

Joel scrubs your body clean, and then he does it a second time for good measure. When he finishes, his fingers trail up your arms and neck until he cups your cheeks firmly. Your eyes finally focus on his, pulling you back into yourself with a thud. You feel it all at once, his hands on you, the rawness on your skin, the hot water pounding down on you. Joel sees it happen, his hands slide under your arms as your knees give way. The tears fall. Your back hits the cool tiles. Joel presses against your front, keeping you up.

Finally, tears wet your cheeks. Sobs leave your chest, and your brain spirals through it all: Maria okay one minute and bleeding out the next. The fact that it stopped was little comfort now. So much could still go wrong, and you can’t lose Maria. She’s your rock, probably the only reason you’re alive today. Losing her would be harder than losing Gabe.

If she dies, it’s your fault because you couldn’t save her.

Your chest constricts with a tight, wheezing inhale. The tears stop as you struggle to breathe. Joel takes your hand, laying it over his chest. “Breathe, I’ve got you, Sweetheart.”

He models it. You see and feel the slow rise and fall of his chest. His hand stays over yours until the ache in your chest eases and the water runs cold.

Joel picks you up, tugs a soft shirt over your head, and crawls into bed behind you. He’s solid and warm against your back. You’re locked against him. His fingers dance across your stomach, lips brush against your ear. You lean into him. In such a short time, he’s come to know you so well. Maria is your rock, but Joel is your support. He tore down your walls like cheap construction and built a fucking shelter to keep you warm. You let your brain take you away before the rest of it can sink in because loving Joel Miller would be wonderful, but losing him would kill you.

He whispers in your ear. “What do you want?”

Your eyes won’t stay open anymore between the exhaustion and Joel clouding your senses.

“Stay,” you fumble out. You don’t know if it’s decipherable but it works.

For the first time, Joel stays the night in your bed.

#the last of us #joel miller #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #joel miller/reader #pedro stories #pedrostories #pedro #the last of us fanfiction #woman (joel’s version)#woman (joel miller)

202 notes · View notes

moondirti · 1 year

Text

11. SUCK IT UP

CHAPTER ELEVEN OF ANIMALIC | MIGUEL O'HARA X F!READER

↼ chapter ten / chapter twelve ⇀

summary: you aren't feeling too good. miguel helps you get over it, in more ways than one.

explicit (18+) | 6.7k words warnings: enemies to lovers, smut, cunnilingus, face-sitting, fingering, squirting, power imbalance (everything is consensual), miguel is... sweet (?), mild fluff, angst, very little plot, mentions of death/gore notes: inspired by this hysterical ask. twas supposed to be a bit of short fun but i am a chronic over-writer. thus, i present to you – a week late tangent about miguel's magical tongue! enjoy

The night ends with you riding Miguel’s face, panties ripped and cartons of food waiting idly on your desk. If you could shatter the pleasure that seizes your brain with a vice-like grip, you would take a moment to admit one thing.

You don’t know how you got here.

It’s not the fact of it that’s got you fazed; no, you’ve long since come to terms with the new perimeters of your relationship. Really, it’s been the only active component in your life as of late, serving itself in all your food for thought. You’ve contemplated it before going to bed, upon waking up, during your lunches with Hobie – where the spider critiques your mentor so often that you’ve learnt not to mention your less-than-professional relationship out loud.

And, well– For every moment in between, you’re caught up in this exact transgression.

If you’re being perfectly honest with yourself, it’s fruitless to attempt to rationalise it. The day’s happenings couldn’t have hinted towards this at all. In fact, your morning had started miles off from where you are now. Laying on the ground, ambition fried save for one goal:

To take a break.

Your dreams still burn on your eyelids when you blink them open. They’re feverish, ochre and plum and sickly green, a little too blurry to make out the details that would’ve otherwise helped you decipher their meaning. It was something about blood, something about patchouli, and a conclusive explosion that fizzled with bright light.

Though the latter might merely be ideation. You forgot to close your blinds before falling asleep – the only reason you’re awake being the sun bathing your room in white.

A migraine strikes at your temple, rhythmic and reinforced with stainless steel. It’s vengeful. Your entire body is, actually. Sour aches run up your muscles, swelling around your joints, digging into your bones. When you attempt to readjust, your spine screams in protest. So does your stomach, gurgling for either food or relief. It’s hard to tell really; the pain is so profound that blaming a particular area would be dismissing the others.

You do know who to blame, though.

That asshole.

He’s ruthless. An absolute implacable force that grills you almost every hour of the day. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that his concern with your training is due to a growing fondness for you. But you’ve seen enough evidence of his method to prove otherwise – he’s merely approaching it with as much dedication as he prescribes anything else. Like the fate of the multiverse relies on your betterment, like his seeing to it is some sort of commandment by God.

(Perhaps it is.

But not even you take gospel this seriously.)

It’s been a couple weeks and you’re still not used to it. Over the year since gaining your powers, you’ve never exerted yourself this much. You’re so weak, you find, that your strength can be likened to that of a civilian. The constant wear and tear hasn’t pushed that front, either – the first few sessions, you’d come dangerously close to throwing up from the sheer exhaustion of it all. Your gut turned into itself, gags coated with bile as you ushered Miguel away from your perimeter. The only thing that held you back was a lack of energy to actually commit to the issue.

That, and the promise of his fingers buried deep in your cunt.

You’ve begun to understand him, though. The scientist part of you can’t help but pick up on his patterns, storing them in one place for further analysis. Eventually, having enough data allowed you to draw up a trend.

It tends to go something like this:

He compiles an exercise to help you learn a lesson. It’s devised to push you both mentally and physically – a killing of two birds with one stone. To phrase it like that, plain cut and simple, makes it sound almost juvenile, like a look into a kindergarten teacher’s book of discipline. The punishment should fit the crime, or however it goes. But it isn’t easy, not by a long shot. He seems to see what you have trouble harrowing from yourself; those meaty flaws, fattened from neglect, maggot-strewn and pulsing with a verve of their own. They’re pinpointed, slated, and then he gives you the knife all expectantly, like you can kill it by yourself.

The beasts’ name has been resilience lately. According to him, planking for two minutes wasn’t a sufficient enough appeasement to it.

Because the next day, he always expounds upon the lesson from the last. The training is a developed form of the one that nearly just killed you, and he tests how you respond. Your enthusiasm or lack thereof doesn’t matter, it’s your perseverance despite it that he rewards. You can smile every time you fall, if you don’t get up, then he doesn’t grant you an orgasm.

If you do, however–

Then, fuck. It’s so good that you often forget the struggle it took to earn it in the first place.

A strict system. One with little room for loopholes or faults. You can tell he’s thought it through – every exertion is met with an upside, a failsafe tailored to the type of pupil you’re proving to be. It means that he’s done this before; is accustomed to the patience and regimen it takes to guide someone as wayward as you.

You add it to your tally of proof that he’s a father.

(He’s able to come up with detailed plans surrounding your weaknesses.

You, on the other hand, have to resort to contrived assumptions to get a glimpse into who he is.

The imbalance is present, glaring. Enough to irk you but not enough to implode just yet. You stuff it away for later.)

Solid system aside, it certainly doesn’t account for how much of it you can tolerate. You’re paralyzed, hollowed out by the endless workouts. And while, yes, you could go to the cafeteria to fill up with fuel that alleviates the effects, you physically can’t move out from under your sheets – limp as the mattress that cushions you.

You wonder what he would say if he saw you like this. It’s become harder to guess now that you’re unsure of his true feelings towards you. A Spanish taunt, likely; something along the lines of have I worn you out already? And you’d huff but secretly squirm under the prospect of disappointing him, a scolded schoolgirl caught with a lame excuse between index and thumb.

Hell, he’s not even around and you’re still plump with shame. Your room doesn’t feel nearly as comforting with the knowledge of what waits outside. Down the hall, up the staircase. Through the common room and across the lobby. In that little gym, hidden in a corner near the med-bay, where no one frequents when the more advanced training facilities are in another sector entirely. You check the alarm on your desk – 09:00. He’s probably there already, waiting on you with arms crossed.

In your mind's eye, he’s wearing that black compression top he seems to resort to on laundry days. Grey sweatpants too. You don’t know what to call the passing reflection – fantasy is all too mortifying a word. Wish? Absolutely not. You wish for nothing when it comes to him. Except maybe–

Thighs squeezing, you brush the objection away. You could get it easily if you’re able to muster the energy. Take it one step at a time. Change into your athletic gear. Eat a light breakfast. Show up, if not a little late. Miguel would make a passing comment about it but nod at the fact that you came at all. And it would be enough, that little assurement, to motivate you through whatever gruelling exercise he has planned today.

If you let him know, though – how hard it was for you to go – would he add to your reward? So far it’s only been his fingers on you, rubbing you while you run slick onto him. Deliciously thick as they fuck into you, long and perfect at pinpointing that one spot that makes you just burst. Certainly better than your own, but…

His touch is beginning to lose its novelty. Increasingly, you’re left wanting more. You come down from your highs gaping, clenching around the memory of a length that’s only ever been in your mouth. And if he’s able to make you see stars with just his hand–

Then you’d abandon the cosmos just to get him to fuck you.

(A proclamation you’d never say out loud. Even your conscious cringes at just how depraved it sounds.)

So, you try.

Really, you do. With the fear of failing him and the lust that’s taken root in your core, you kick your legs off the edge of your bed. The air is frigid, biting at your heels as they press to tile, which is just as cold itself. You let it diffuse into your feet, getting used to it while bracing yourself for the pain bound to reemerge. Black broaches your vision, blotting its edges. You opt to ignore the blatant warning, sucking in a hurried breath – resilience – before rising to a stand.

Two seconds pass. You go blind. Like a marionette with its strings cut, you tip over and collapse to the floor.

Whether a headrush or your muscles finally giving up on you, you can’t help but attribute the display to none other than your ‘mentor’ himself. Cocky bastard with his stupid fucking philosophies. Resilience my ass. Look where that’s gotten you now; capsized like a turtle with a shell too big for its own good.

Groaning, you flip over to your side. Your elbow had taken the brunt of the impact, yet your head rings with alarm nonetheless. You’ll just… You’ll just stay right here. Yeah.

He’ll understand.

(And, if not, then you’ve dealt with him in poorer moods.)

18:00.

You’re pathetic.

So much more than that, actually. Pathetic is a description reserved for the pitiable. A person has to actually sympathise with you in order for it to be true, and you’re sure that if anyone saw you in this state – God forbid – then they’d convulse in disgust instead.

You cycle through a list of viable synonyms. Miserable. Lame. An absolute tragic case of wasted potential. None quite fit like you want them to. They all feel wrong – mirrors so distorted you can’t make out your reflection in them if you tried.

It’s just… becoming of you.

If there were a word that specifically meant befitting to Wraith, then you’d clutch it close to your chest for how validating it would read. It feels like all the work you’ve put in thus far was for nothing. Despite how it may seem, you didn’t just do it for Miguel. If it had been, then you would’ve given in half a year ago upon realising just how attractive your pursuer was.

(You remember it, clear as a waxy moon on an ink-blot night.

He’d thrown you into dry-wall and you’d called him a coward for not looking you in the eye. It must’ve hit him where it hurt, because his mask drew back and before you knew it, you were phasing in and out to the beat of your fluttering heart.

It was the first time you saw him. Once you managed to escape, your fist suffered through its duty in muffling your moans, cut by biting incisors as you rubbed one out in a hostel bed.)

No. It was for you. To put distance between the inconsiderate menace you were before Earth-15 and the woman you desperately want to be. You’d started to notice the difference too. Mentally, sure – where your self-hatred was tamped to the background, and every action you took was opened with weighty contemplation. But even physically – your eyebags had faded and you looked much cleaner than you have in a long, long time.

Where’s that progress now?

Because you’re crumpled on the spot where you fell almost eleven hours ago, with the addition of a pillow to support your head. You’re much like a wad of chewed gum, spit out by some being greater than this dimension. Gross and regressive and littering this world with your very existence.

It’s a close parallel to how downtrodden you’d felt in that convenience store bathroom, bandaging your forearm where Miguel’s claws had dug deep into the flesh. Your throat had been tight with suppressed sobs, both pain and primal fear replacing the pus that surged from your wound. The wash area was filthy. Dirt-packed grout and grey tap water. Paper towels balled in wet wads. But it felt right for you at the time, like you deserved no better.

Of course, you didn’t. Don’t. You went out and got an innocent woman killed not much later.

You still think about her sometimes. Her blood had been piping hot, almost bubbling from the yawning hole in her throat. The rescue was half-assed – you could’ve incapacitated the robber after knocking him out – but you’d been so filled with false bravado at actually having done something that it never occurred to you. The instinct lacking. Your spider-sense, absent. If you’d ever considered grasping the reins to your powers, you could’ve prevented the bullet from phasing through you and meeting her instead. You’ve always been short-sighted like that; prioritising the now over the what if.

And that’s what you stayed here to remedy. But if the same thing happened tomorrow, what’s stopping you from repeating your mistakes? You’d been too broken this morning to process that.

You should’ve just sucked it up and went.

From your place on the floor, out the window, only the top of Nueva York’s cityscape is visible. The sky has darkened to the colour of a bruised peach – an oxidised sort of orange that reminds you of last night’s dream – and the nightlights of some buildings flicker on cue when the sun dips below the horizon. You can see the ninety-degree highway up to Second Base from here. It’s been your entertainment for today, with its little commuting cars and the train that zips back and forth.

If you focus hard enough, then you can trick yourself into believing that the space station is visible, floating just above the stratosphere – where gravity is weak enough to let it hold its place. But you’re a woman of science and you know that it's impossible, that the silhouette you’re picturing is a figment of your wild reverie and you’re still anchored to earth where dreams are just that. Dreams. Your eyes burn from attempting it, anyway, those damn dust motes cropping up again.

Christ.

Given that life’s slowed, you’re spotting them more often. Back in that empty storelot, right after being bit, you’d fixated on them for a brief instant. They fit in with the setting back then, lazy in a stream of sunlight. Colourful – pink, green, orange, gold – flipping through the shades in a way that made sense. But their appearances have lost that sense of cohesion. Now, they emerge when you least expect them. In shadows. Hovering in corners not too far away. Places where it’s unnatural for them to be.

You reach a hand out. There’s no purpose behind it. Just… an exploratory action. To test the unknown. Your shoulder aches when you do, and so you don’t notice how odd it feels at first. Like electricity, buzzing at your fingertips. The motes start to drift towards your skin, magnetised to something you can’t explain.

When you sit up to investigate it further, there’s a knock at your door.

Hobie?

Couldn’t be. He mentioned he’d be away for a while last you talked.

There are few others who know of your assignment. Reilly, but he hasn’t paid mind to you since introducing your room. Jess Drew, maybe, though that’s far-fetched.

So–

You look down at your dishevelled state. In just a plain shirt and your pair of oldest underwear, you’re hardly dressed for entertainment. Especially when it’s him.

Is he checking up on you?

It’s so stupid that even in a depressive slump you’re able to laugh at yourself. Check up is the only way you can put it without making things worse. If he’s passing by, then it would be in suspicion. You’re no idiot, after all, in spite of your dejection. He wouldn’t let you roam free without having measures in place to ensure you don’t leave. That may just mean looking in from time to time.

Though it’s practically guaranteed that it isn’t out of concern.

(You have to remind yourself; you wish for nothing when it comes to Miguel O’Hara.)

Another knock. It’s hastier this time. Three raps with sharp knuckles. Impatient.

Panic overtakes all motor functions as you scramble to a stand. Yesterday’s joggers are thrown over your desk chair, in need of a wash with all the fluids secreted in them. They’re the closest in your vicinity, though, and will have to do for now. You briefly fuss over how your hair looks, whether your unwashed face is visibly oily – all fixable things that you dismiss while tripping to the doorway. The waistband is barely over your ass before you swing it open, greeting Miguel with a grimace.

Idiot. You shouldn’t have opened it that wide. Now he can see your mess of a r–

“Bad time, I’m guessing.” Is all he says, voice lilting into a question. You can’t help but register it with a tone of condescension; the raised eyebrows certainly don’t convince you otherwise.

All you really want to do is tell him off for the impromptu visit. The chagrin is there, latched onto your throat. But before you can, and against your better judgement, you give him an extensive once-over, taking heed of his state. What’s ironic – a tranquillising point that promptly shuts you up – is that it’s worse than yours.

In the complete opposite way.

Three big rips run along his torso, interfering with the technology of his spider-suit. It glitches between static and a transparent condition, baring the bronzed skin of his chest. There’s blood there too, reiterating the crimson that peeks from beneath his floppy hair, which is sweat-drenched. Tousled. He’s tousled, like he waltzed directly from a fight. A particularly bad one at that.

(And of course he still looks better.)

“One can say the same about you.” You bite.

“Don’t be smart.” He says. It isn't the snap you take it to be, more a mumble with consequence to his fangs. His mouth doesn't sit right when they’re withdrawn. You run your tongue along your gums upon remembering how they’d felt, pierced in your neck. “I couldn’t make our session this morning. An urgent issue came up.”

Immediately, something fresh smooths over you, like a balm to the anxiety that’d been plaguing you all day. He wasn’t even there. You’re tempted to laugh, but your humour dims on its way out. And when all is said and done, you find the disquietude is still there, nestled between your ribs.

You just blink in acknowledgement.

His jaw tenses. “We can reschedule.”

“You don’t have to sound so guilty about it.” The joke contains perhaps more sarcasm than you intend for it. It echoes, spiteful, and you at least have the sense to be ashamed, for you follow it up with a small reassurance. “It’s fine. I never showed.”

“Sick?”

“Something like that.”

(Lie.

Look at you, just embodying ignobility today.)

He nods, scanning your dishevelled clothing and chapped lips. Your only drink of water all day had been from the bathroom tap in an especially lamentable episode. It smacks, as though it were filled with cotton, the inside of your cheeks dry paper.

You wait for him to say something, unease broiling in your core. He does the same, gaze shifting from the scars on your arm to your bedroom and everything in between. It lingers on the external hallway, scanning for passersby. You recognise the indecision. Deliberation. Still – the long stretch of silence that hangs between you is awkward, broadening with every passing second, a gluttonous sort of tension whose favourite meal is the undefined mess that is your relationship to one another.

Finally, Miguel speaks up. “I’ll be back.”

And then he leaves.

He just… fucking–

Walks away, off to whatever takes precedence over your less-than-invigorating conversation. Which, admittedly, could be counted as anything in the world. But seriously, where is the decorum? Showing up unannounced only to leave you waiting? You run through the various reasons he couldn’t stand to be in your presence any longer, and what he expects you to do before his return.

The most plausible is that his injuries needed tending to. If they were that severe though, then why he saw stopping by first a greater priority is beyond you. In any case, he’ll probably return refreshed. But for what? Your response couldn’t have been misinterpreted to mean that you wanted to reschedule the missed session for tonight. You’re still sore, thank you very much, and in a much shoddier mood than you had been previous.

(This is what you wanted though; a second chance.

‘Just suck it up.’)

Steeling yourself, you shut the door and hobble down to the back of your room, stripping on your way. You’ll tidy up after your shower – it's bound to wash at least half of your self-loathing.

You just hope your leggings are clean.

As it turns out, you were the one who misinterpreted things.

Dressed in your athletic gear with damp skin and your sneakers primed to go, the dread had started to ebb away into a begrudging acceptance. Yes, your body still tenses with lactic-mutiny, raging where you’ve exerted it in the past, and your head still sings in migraine tones. But they all came second to the split-second fluster that had risen when he’d knocked on your door. That fear of disappointment returned with a vengeance, your worry for regression packing the final punch.

And, really. What were you supposed to think?

He left without so much as an excuse. It was up to you to decide what he’d see upon coming back. Just based on the nature of your prior meetings, the answer heavily leaned towards your own durability. Ready to face whatever exercise he has to throw your way, supposed sickness aside. You were actually quite proud of yourself for it, directing a heavy-handed pat on the back for the nail you ‘hit on its head.’

Never in your blurry dreams could you have predicted this.

Your face burns hot with puerile embarrassment.

“Um–”

“I figured you haven’t eaten.” Miguel explains, curling the plastic bags up in a gesture akin to surrender. They’re solid white, those thin types that bend under the weight of the cartons packed inside. You’re unable to process it before your stomach does, growling in suppressed hunger.

“No.” You shuffle to the side to allow him in. He takes the invitation, carefully, traipsing within your quarters to place the food on your desk. “I haven’t.”

The air resumes its resting level of edginess, however you’re far too wrapped up in your own head to buckle underneath it this time. It’s cold, you ascertain, your skin puckering in a gradient from foot to toe. His survey follows the same line, regarding your changed appearance in intrigue, cheeks sinking with a downward smile. It looks positively smug.

“Sorry, I thought… You’re not here to dole out another one of your lessons?”

“You’re sick aren’t you.” He isn’t interrogative in the slightest. You can’t bring yourself to lie again, so you stay silent. “I see you got dressed regardless.”

“Well, that’s me. Just a sucker for appearances.” You scoff, shutting the door behind you. The room appears infinitesimal in his presence, collapsing into those broad shoulders. “Tidied the space too and everything.”

Tall, packed with undiluted muscle. No longer in his spider-suit, but clothes more casual. A bandage stretched across his forehead. It’s stark against his skin, white on bronze and you can’t help but follow the way he gleams under the warm lighting. Fresh – he must’ve showered too, further evidence found in the way his hair curls, dips, drops of water rolling down his nape. You dig your teeth into your lip. Any closer and you’re bound to hit a wall of patchouli, that aphrodisiacal scent that triggers you like an animal in heat.

“Is that so?” He prods, unconvinced. It’s dark outside and you feel confined to this box. “You weren’t just anticipating it?”

“Anticipation is a forgiving word. No one would look forward to torment.”

His brows knit together, the creases between them playful, like the very implication is offensive on the same magnitude as a low-life’s taunt.

“But…” There’s nowhere to back into when he takes a step closer, your bed hitting the back of your knees. “You got dressed regardless.” He reinstates, emphasising each word, syllables punctuated to make his point. If you weren’t cornered, snared in the clutches of a cat celebrating its next meal, you’d have been able to see where this is going.

As it stands, you’re blind.

“You know what I think?” He adds upon your reticence. You shake your head. “I think, it’s finally starting to hit you.”

“Hit… Wh–”

“The point. These past few weeks have been tough, I won’t pretend otherwise.” Miguel clarifies. “But it was only the first part of it. Withstanding struggle, that torment you speak so… fondly of.”

“Like you said,” You catch on, recalling the reality check he’d given you that day with the plank. “Y’know. Resilience.”

“Remind me of the other half of it again.”

“There’s… Withstanding struggle,” You repeat stupidly, working overtime to try and fetch his exact words. It’s an almost impossible feat, the gears in your mind turning on empty fuel. The initial lecture wasn’t that long ago, but it’s been intercepted by a million other philosophies. And he’s right there, ducked close to your level, keen eyes patiently waiting for you to continue. His breath fans across your cheek. The pressure worsens. You feel dumb. “And–”

You resort to context, then – grasping for the crux of his little tangent. What did you do to inspire it, anyway?

It hits you so suddenly your neck twinges with phantom whiplash.

“Recovering when you fall.” You complete.

“That’s it.” The whispered praise tickles you, like sand filling an hourglass. Your tummy sinks, heavy with it. It’s warm and dry and feels much like how his bare hand did, supporting your neck under rubble. Behind your back, your own wind together as you shoot him a vampish look.

“Who would’ve thought.”

He shrugs. “Was your faith that lacking?”

“There were a few times, yeah. You should’ve seen me this morning,”

“Oh, I can imagine.”

“Fell right to the floor. Almost died, I’m telling you. I stayed right here,” You tap the ground with your heel. “All day.”

“It was not that bad,” He insists, speaking with a levity you don’t often hear from him. It’s nice when he reciprocates like this. You’ve always reckoned that he took himself seriously one-hundred percent of the time. You find that you get along better when he doesn’t.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.” You pop the P, using the excuse to wet your lips. The guard you keep constantly raised bends to the contours of his face, curved elegantly around those high cheekbones and the jaw he must physically sharpen to get looking so pronounced. He’s studying you – you sense it, teasing your lashes, noting the way your eyes pointedly avoid his. They’re planted firmly to his neck, where corded muscles stretch under skin, so strong you can practically hear them creak.

Your heartbeat skips from between your thighs. When you rub them together, they glide easily, lubricated by the slick pooling into your panties.

“No logical reason you should continue putting up with it, then.”

It could turn out that Miguel’s voice is modulated and you wouldn’t be surprised given how pleasing it is to listen to. Deep, controlled from a low point in his chest where smouldering coal chars it until it’s rugged. You always pay closer attention to the letters through which his accent comes through; short O’s and throaty D’s. His mouth hardly moves when he speaks. You wonder when he chooses to properly utilise it. Whether he does at all.

Your kiss had been entirely one-sided. His rewards are so detached. There’s a lot you haven’t explored yet; with every passing second, the greater the urge is to push and find out.

“Except we can both appreciate why I do,” You breathe, throwing caution to the wind and catching his stare. An irrepressible smile blooms at the spirited expression he gives you. Eyebrows raised in a thick arch, forming an amused look that only bolsters you further.

“For your redemption?” He baits, only to interrupt your response. “Or…” Your nerves spark. “For this–”

And then he cups you over your leggings, pawing where you’re brim with molten arousal. Hips bucking, your jaw hinges to expel a high-pitched keen, pinched from the back of your gullet. You latch onto his wrist, eager to either neg him on or push him away – but with the torrid fuzz that gains control of your systems, you can’t work it out.

“Do you deserve it?” His ask caresses the shell of your ear, a whisper, fingers slowing until you land on an answer.

Distrusting yourself to verbalise it, you give a frantic nod, mortifyingly desperate. It’s as much of a revelation for you as it is for him, manifested with every needy rut you give his hand. Miguel lets you seek the pleasure, pinning harder to provide the pressure you need, before withdrawing just as assuredly.

You could almost sob. Your nose is stuffy and your lips bitten and you so badly wish to be filled with anything to help you forget your miserable day. When he taps your ass, you assign every ounce of remaining intellect to decipher the vague gesture – eventually falling back on your bed in a close measure of what you assume he means. It’s a sterling guess. Your shoes are shucked off in the process and he leans over you, one knee anchored to the surface as he tucks into the waistband of your pants. They slide off with his help, separating from heated flesh like velcro.

It occurs to you that this is the first time he’ll see you. So far, your body is familiar to him in touch alone – hurried, stolen and shoved under your panties in semi-public spaces while you fight to endure the conflicting sensations. There’s mind to currently faux humility – a game you liked to play with your college conquests. Batted eyelashes and babydoll modesty; a secret thrill present in watching them come undone at your relinquished control.

But Miguel is no lover, and you’re far too gone to play nice now.

You scoot back to your pile of pillows when he joins you. It’s unreal seeing him in such a domestic setting. Civilian attire, combed hair. In high nature. If it weren’t for the bandage on his temple and the shadows making allusions to the brawn he keeps at bay, then you could’ve fooled yourself into trusting his normality. That he isn’t larger than life – solely here because he’s like you, a person trying to make well for themselves.

As it is, though, he’s still impenetrable. Fully clothed while you lay bottomless.

(Again, you’re reminded that you don’t know him. The man sacking you of your underwear could have a spouse, for all you’re privy to.

It just adds another layer of distance you should be thankful for.)

Manic with lust, you’re barely enlightened to what’s coming when your mentor captures each leg in a separate grip. Big hands cradle their bends, under your knees where your skin is unconventionally soft. It poses a contrast to the calluses on his palm, worn by years of crime-fighting and swinging on reinforced webs. They’re warm and rough and scratch you, sending a nervous buzz down to your core.

He guides your limbs up. Your ankles sway. Definitely strong; he almost syphons the breath right out through your stomach. If you close your eyes, you can imagine that this is just another exercise, a preliminary stretch.

But you don’t. Folded with your thighs pinned to your chest, you can only fluster with real self-consciousness. Your cunt is exposed to the filtered air, biting the heated centre with its opposite degree. Perhaps more wickedly, however, is the way you’re spread to Miguel’s hawk-like gaze. He inspects the way you glow, humiliated, the sticky confirmation of your desire smeared across your puffy lips. Is he turned off by the sight – your eagerness a violation of the pseudo-professional boundaries marked around your deal?

No, you decide. He’s all too content when he ducks to face it, laying a heavy mouth to your throbbing clit. It’s intoxicating, the cool slice of oxygenated air after months of smoke inhalation. You forget your insecure tangent entirely, tipping your chin back to moan your encouragement.

Fuck, he’s good.

More than good. You scramble for a better description, hands clawing for purchase on your sheets. It’s indescribable in its obscenity – lewd and dirty and slow, mapping every fold and crevice with his tongue. The sweltering muscle, like velvet, swirls across your sensitive bud, taking in its high reactivity, before lapping at the hood above it. You hone in to every miniscule movement, raptured by its dexterity and unwilling to fully let yourself go.

Miguel hums, low, tasting the agony that pours from his skill. His fingertips paint bruises where they dig, holding your thrashing hips still. You find there’s nothing else you can do to bear it, your arms flailing pathetically, toes curling. You pant and it doesn’t help dissuade the indulgence building up within you, crashing against a dam that’s starting to crack. It’s almost as though you’re doing too much to seek it out, afraid he’ll turn to ash at any second and leave you wanting.

“Oh– O’h… Shit, shit!” You whine, pounding your heel on his broad back. He barely notices, peering up at you through dark lashes. “If I had… Don’t stop! Please, p–” His crimson eyes gleam dark and bloody, obscured in shadow. Sobbing, you suck in large gulps of heady air. “If you promised this earlier, I would’ve climbed up fucking buildings to earn it.”

“Mmm-” He ignores your plea, breaking away to bring two digits to his mouth. Your right leg flops uselessly to his side. “Good idea.” One lick and they’re covered in spit. You can’t help but notice the discolouration on his knuckles, deep red and purple, as he uses his index and middle to fan out your lower lips.

And then he’s back to eating you out. This time, though, he’s drinking from your weeping slit. Breaching it, exploring the perimeter that stretches to accommodate his pistoning tongue. Despite pursed lips, your scream still manages to sound through the way it vibrates your lungs. Rattling you, much like he does now, from inside out. His nose is pressed to your mound. You don’t doubt he can smell you, potent sex and clean sweat, contracting every joint until you’re an immovable board.

“Don’t do that,” Miguel groans, scorching the space he creates to reprimand you. Crying, you obey what he says, melting into a puddle of nectar. He strikes a fair point; things feel exponentially better when you aren’t tense, nerve pathways unobstructed in sending pleasure signals to your blank brain. Discerning the shift, he huffs. “Good.”

Stars and heaven above, your consequent wail is unhinged. Your hands fly to his hair, seizing the wavy tresses in a smarting hold. The praise serves as an amplifier to every sense. Hips bucking, free calf curling around his neck. His fingers plunge into you, scissoring your tight walls as he spits onto your pussy, gathering the pearlescent fluid with his thumb and using it as aid. Like you need the extra help.

Because you’re soaked. The dam is broken. Everything gushes out of you in an ugly mess, glossing his palm and the duvet below. He nips your clit, grazing his teeth along the swollen sprout, teasing, then places his mouth back onto you. Brown locks curl to his brow. You brush them back, shoving him harder, closer. Sort of power-drunk at the sight of him succumbing to your command.

It’s short lived. You’re about to cum when he chooses the inopportune moment to speak.

Growls, actually. “Hold on.”

Capturing you to his face, he makes sure you’re steady before relinquishing his fingers from your hole and upending you both.

Suddenly, you’re on top and he’s the one framed by your pillows. Your back bends and you almost crumble on top of him – an old building met with a wrecking ball of celestial proportions. You can’t hold your weight on your haunches. They’re practically useless like this, quivering with suspense. Where guilt would be the appropriate response at such a prospect, you’re bound by awe instead. He’s no doubt suffocated by your squeezed thighs and seated pussy – the force of which aided by gravity – but something tells you that’s what he wants. For the first time, his eyes flutter shut.

A sting – concentrated on the globe of your ass – registers only seconds later where he had slapped you. Go, it demands silently. You force yourself to muster the energy to do so.

You can’t last very long, anyway.

Pelvis waving, you ride his face, back arched away from his hand. It irons over your covered waist, wet and soaking the breathable material of your shirt. The position proves to be a workout in of itself, your core strength tested in the motions. For the first time, you find yourself thanking his training. You wouldn’t have persisted otherwise.

Your orgasm rises again, faster now that you’re properly edged. It floods up from your feet like a high tide, sweeping all the seaweed and shells and stability from your abdomen. Lost at shore, a stranded sailor waking up from a tempests’ shipwreck; dazed, sun-blanched on splintered wood. There’s sand on your skin – it clears that too. You’re renewed in briny water. Freshened, addicted to the feeling of the sea pulling you back into its gentle but firm embrace.

You take back what you said. About his mouth and how he chooses to use it. It’s none of your business so long as he keeps it on you, sucking and drinking the cum he milks for all its worth. It just keeps coming, no start or end in sight. It’s all you can do to withstand your weakened centre constantly clenching and still breathe, tears budding hot and heavy. Your nails scratch his scalp. Miguel gives a minute mmmm.

And in the wake of it, while he lays there and laps you clean, the echoes of your moans still rings from the walls.

Forget what you said. Technically, the night didn’t end there.

Much later, you’re both washed and warm. It took you a while to wipe the slick from your folds. He used your bathroom to cleanse his hands and face.

The same cartons of food now sit open between you, on the desk he’d manoeuvred off the wall to divide its chair from your bed. He’s much too big for the seat, but when you’d offered him the mattress, he brushed you off. You currently sit cross legged, cushions bare – sheets in the wash.

And it’s quiet. The empty type, strangely enough. Devoid of any of your usual sarcasm or awkwardness. Sort of… suspended between both, in the foreign land of amity.

Perhaps that’s what convinces you to ask. The inherent safety of the moment. There’s not much you can say to offend in the post-smut glow. Slurping the tail end of a noodle, you look away from your rapture with the illuminated highway outside to take him in. The train had just passed.

“Are you married?”

Miguel doesn’t reply immediately, chewing a mouthful of seasoned vegetables. Instead, he looks at you with mild amusement. Eventually, his adam's apple bobs in a thick swallow.

“No.” He says.

chapter twelve

follow @moondirti-archive and turn on post notifs to be alerted of future updates!

456 notes · View notes