#Biochemistry for Today

[kingdrawcse]

Attention, everyone!

Let's talk about Paederus beetles.

While they may not sting, they have a surprising ability to cause skin ulceration. The culprit behind this is their body fluids containing a potent irritant called "pederin." Even a mere 10 to 15 seconds of contact with this toxin can lead to inflammation and a burning sensation on your skin.

Here's a vital piece of information:

Pederin is not actively secreted on the surface of these beetles but is only released when their bodies are ruptured. Therefore, it's crucial to exercise caution and avoid smacking or coming into direct contact with them, especially to prevent exposure to their toxic body fluids.

If you do happen to come into contact with Paederus fluids, don't panic! Immediately rinse the affected area with plenty of water to minimize the toxin's effects. However, if the situation worsens or becomes severe, it's essential to seek professional medical help promptly.

Remember, knowledge is power! By being aware of the risks associated with Paederus beetles and taking necessary precautions, we can protect ourselves and others from their corrosive toxin. Stay safe and share this important message!

[girlboysollux]

kinda crazy how my dad doesnt even try to know things about me

[sporadicarbitergardener]

1928-2014

By Dr. Kelly A. Spring | 2017; Updated December 2021 by Mariana Brandman, NWHM Predoctoral Fellow in Women’s History, 2020-2022

Poet, dancer, singer, activist, and scholar Maya Angelou was a world-famous author. She was best known for her unique and pioneering autobiographical writing style.

On April 4, 1928, Marguerite Ann Johnson, known to the world as Maya Angelou, was born in St. Louis, Missouri. Due to her parents’ tumultuous marriage and subsequent divorce, Angelou went to live with her paternal grandmother in Stamps, Arkansas at an early age. Her older brother, Bailey, gave Angelou her nickname “Maya.”

Returning to her mother’s care briefly at the age of seven, Angelou was raped by her mother’s boyfriend. He was later jailed and then killed when released from jail. Believing that her confession of the trauma had a hand in the man’s death, Angelou became mute for six years. During her mutism and into her teens, she again lived with her grandmother in Arkansas.

Angelou’s interest in the written word and the English language was evident from an early age. Throughout her childhood, she wrote essays, poetry, and kept a journal. When she returned to Arkansas, she took an interest in poetry and memorized works by Shakespeare and Poe.

Prior to the start of World War II, Angelou moved back in with her mother, who at this time was living in Oakland, California. She attended George Washington High School and took dance and drama courses at the California Labor School.

When war broke out, Angelou applied to join the Women’s Army Corps. However, her application was rejected because of her involvement in the California Labor School, which was said to have Communist ties. Determined to gain employment, despite being only 15 years old, she decided to apply for the position of a streetcar conductor. Many men had left their jobs to join the services, enabling women to fill them. However, Angelou was barred from applying at first because of her race. But she was undeterred. Every day for three weeks, she requested a job application, but was denied. Finally, the company relented and handed her an application. Because she was under the legal working age, she wrote that she was 19. She was accepted for the position and became the first African American woman to work as a streetcar conductor in San Francisco. Angelou was employed for a semester but then decided to return to school. She graduated from Mission High School in the summer of 1944 and soon after gave birth to her only child, Clyde Bailey (Guy) Johnson.

After graduation, Angelou undertook a series of odd jobs to support herself and her son. In 1949, she married Tosh Angelos, an electrician in the US Navy. She adopted a form of his surname and kept it throughout her life, though the marriage ended in divorce in 1952.

Angelou was also noted for her talents as a singer and dancer, particularly in the calypso and cabaret styles. In the 1950s, she performed professionally in the US, Europe, and northern Africa, and sold albums of her recordings.

In 1950, African American writers in New York City formed the Harlem Writers Guild to nurture and support the publication of Black authors. Angelou joined the Guild in 1959. She also became active in the Civil Rights Movement and served as the northern coordinator of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, a prominent African American advocacy organization

In 1969, Angelou published I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, an autobiography of her early life. Her tale of personal strength amid childhood trauma and racism resonated with readers and was nominated for the National Book Award. Many schools sought to ban the book for its frank depiction of sexual abuse, but it is credited with helping other abuse survivors tell their stories. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings has been translated into numerous languages and has sold over a million copies worldwide. Angelou eventually published six more autobiographies, culminating in 2013’s Mom & Me & Mom.  

She wrote numerous poetry volumes, such as the Pulitzer Prize-nominated Just Give me a Drink of Water 'fore I Diiie (1971), as well as several essay collections. She also recorded spoken albums of her poetry, including “On the Pulse of the Morning,” for which she won a Grammy for Best Spoken Word Album. The poem was originally written for and delivered at President Bill Clinton’s inauguration in 1993. She also won a Grammy in 1995, and again in 2002, for her spoken albums of poetry.

Angelou carried out a wide variety of activities on stage and screen as a writer, actor, director, and producer. In 1972, she became the first African American woman to have her screen play turned into a film with the production of Georgia, Georgia. Angelou earned a Tony nomination in 1973 for her supporting role in Jerome Kitty’s play Look Away, and portrayed Kunta Kinte’s grandmother in the television miniseries Roots in 1977.

She was recognized by many organizations both nationally and internationally for her contributions to literature. In 1981, Wake Forest University offered Angelou the Reynolds Professorship of American Studies. President Clinton awarded Angelou the National Medal of Arts in 2000. In 2012, she was a member of the inaugural class inducted into the Wake Forest University Writers Hall of Fame. The following year, she received the National Book Foundation’s Literarian Award for outstanding service to the American literary community. Angelou also gave many commencement speeches and was awarded more than 30 honorary degrees in her lifetime.

Angelou died on May 28, 2014. Several memorials were held in her honor, including ones at Wake Forest University and Glide Memorial Church in San Francisco. To honor her legacy, the US Postal Service issued a stamp with her likeness on it in 2015. (The US Postal Service mistakenly included a quote on the stamp that has long been associated with Angelou but was actually first written by Joan Walsh Anglund.) 

In 2010, President Barack Obama awarded Angelou the Presidential Medal of Freedom, the country’s highest civilian honor. It was a fitting recognition for Angelou’s remarkable and inspiring career in the arts.

This woman was a woman of rape, abuse , and even a victim of racism. She stayed writing in her life as life went on and she did not ask other people to suffer either was well she was a woman of many gift. A big wake up for womens rights and also a good reflection on what is wrong with today's society. People use religion, marriage, laws and even age to determine what is and isn't rape and that is the sick culture all women have to endure. It is never a woman's fault. It happened to me recently and now I am diving back into my music arts. Even research as well . Getting different domains for different topics as well while putting my story out there . It is scary to put it out there because there are so many different things that make writing scary/

[bichitosdecolores]

taking out my spells book (Organic chemistry by McMurry 9 edition) to estudie the ancient text (heterocyclic chemistry)

[a-curious-studyblr]

14/10/22 - I had a two hour train ride so I downloaded an important paper to read for my research master's project during the journey. I was surprised, but the train + headphones combo made me focus really well for an hour! I actively read it and took notes

[fluffykittyscientist]

Finding stuff in this is fun

[mysynonym]

.

[misctf]

What You Wanted

Richard wanted to better himself. At first, as a wide-eyed new freshman, he was looking to make a change. Having always been more nerdy and unathletic, Richard prioritized his studies rather than his physical fitness growing up. But after years of fearing the gym, he took his first step. And the rest was history. He grew lean with muscle and learned the ins and outs of the gym routine. He found a gym buddy and quickly climbed the social hierarchy. Smart, fit, and now entering his junior year- he was living his best life.

“Richard!” Thomas’s nasally voice cut through the air, “Are you even paying attention?” Beady eyes narrowed behind his thick rimmed glasses.

Richard shrugged, “Sorry, I must’ve zoned out.” He was thinking more about his gym session earlier that day instead of paying attention to whatever nerdy movie Thomas picked, “I’m just not feeling it today.”

Richard and Thomas were friends since middle school. Both unapologetically nerdy, each surviving their fair share of bullying. But while Richard’s interests in fitness blossomed, Thomas remained entrenched in all things nerdy.

“You’re never feeling it anymore.” Thomas lamented, “I’m worried about you.” He looked at his friend closely, “Are you becoming like them? One of those stupid, smelly meatheads?” Richard knew Thomas never approved of his new friends- especially since many of them gave off the same vibes as their former bullies.

“Thomas, look.” Richard started, “I just... We’re obviously very different people now.”

“Not true! We both study Biochemistry! We’re both applying to graduate school in a few months!” Thomas interjected.

“Yeah, but Thomas, I’ve changed. I don’t really like superheroes and Battle Monsters and all that stuff anymore.” Richard sighed, running a hand through his hair, “I mean, its fun from time to time, but you’re obsessed with it.”

“Obsessed?”

Richard nodded, “Look, I need to get going. I have an exam.” He grabbed his backpack and started towards the door.

“Is that how it’s going to be?” Thomas yelled, “So you think you’re better than me too? Just like all those stupid jocks, right?” Thomas continued, “Fine, if you want to be a stupid, smelly jock so bad, go for it! Don’t come crying to me!”

“Whatever.” Richard said, “See you around.”

_________

Richard worked through his thermodynamics exam with ease. It became such a mindless activity that his thoughts wandered to Thomas. They had been close for years. And Thomas gave him an outlet for some of his more nerdier interests. Sure, he wasn’t as interested in all that nerd stuff like he was back in middle school, but Richard did value the time he spent with Thomas. He frowned. Maybe he was just a bit too harsh.  He’d apologize once he got done with his exam. But as he continued to write down the answers to these complex questions, he felt something welling up from within him. Something physical... something...

BUUUUURRRRPPPPP

Richard’s eyes widened and he quickly covered his mouth. He felt his cheeks flush red and looked around the room, noticing a few looks of disgust, as well as a few snickers from some of his classmates.

“Richard?” The professor said, looking up from her book.

“Yo, my bad dude.” Richard’s eyes widened, as did the professor’s, “Whoa, brah! Didn’t mean to say that!” His face reddened even more.

“Richard, please focus on your test.” She said sternly.

He nodded, trying to tune out the snickers from his surrounding classmates, ‘What the fuck was that?’ He thought to himself, trying to regain his composure, ‘Okay... just focus.’

But as he stared at the problems on his exam, he noticed small drops of water appearing on his paper. He raised an eyebrow as more drops appeared on his test, smudging his work.

“What the...?” He whispered, “Sweat?” He rubbed a hand across his forehead, “What the fuck?” He said aloud, again disrupting the class.

“Richard!” The professor slammed her book down.

“Dude, just back off.” Richard snapped back. He heard a few audible gasps from his fellow students and his face flushed red, “Bro, that came out wrong. I don't get why I'm sounding like this, bro.” His face flushed red again and he suddenly stood up and headed towards the door, “I gotta take a breather.” He said. But as he approached the door he could feel the same heaviness in his stomach, “No, no no... buuuuuuuuurrrrrpppppppp.”

He slammed the door behind him, and fled from the classroom.

_________

Richard walked across campus as fast as he could. He needed to get back to his apartment as soon as possible. Or maybe to a doctor. But wherever he went, he just needed to be somewhere private. The young man wiped some sweat from his brow and cringed.

“No way dude, I’m like a waterfall.” He whispered, “Oh fuck, look at my pits.” Dark pit stains rapidly formed beneath his arms and continued to grow larger. Richard stopped in his tracks and raised his arms, taking a deep whiff of his own stench, “Huhuhuh that’s ripe, dude.” He chuckled to himself. It was the judgmental stares of nearby students that broke him out of his train of thought, “I’m sorry!” He whispered, blushing deeply, “I didn’t mean to... burrrrppppppppp.” His face reddened even more.

“Haha nice one bro!” A nearby jock laughed.

“Yeah dude! Been dropping bombs all day.” Richard replied with a grin. He quickly shook his head and ran towards his dorm room, ignoring the jock's attempt for a fist bump.

_________

Richard slammed the door to his dorm room shut and threw his backpack across the room. At this point, he didn’t know what to do. His shirt had soaked through from his sweat and a new manly musk was clinging to his sweaty body.

“Okay, I just gotta go to an urgent care.” Richard whispered.

He walked over to his dresser to change his shirt, and he quickly stripped out of his soaked t-shirt. But when he looked down at his body, something wasn’t right.

“Yo dude, since when did I get abs?” Richard mumbled, “Oh shit, look at my boulders.” He rubbed a hand across his large shoulders, giving them a squeeze and chuckling dumbly, “Huhuhuh why do I need a shirt?” He flexed his bicep and watched as it bulged with strength, “Woah fuck look at that!” He watched as his bicep seemed to get a bit larger too, “Dude... that’s buuuuuuurrppppppp.” Richard chuckled, “Fuckin’ new protein powder. Makin’ my gassy as fuck.”

His plans to visit an Urgent Care were quickly leaving his mind. Instead, he continued to focus on his various poses, and amused himself with each growing muscle. Richard walked over to the couch and fell back onto it, grabbing his phone and posting a new picture of himself on his social media. All the white, he absentmindedly scratched as his massive chest, which was starting to sprout a light dusting of hairs. He grinned as various likes started appearing on his picture, and he felt his cock start to grow. He grabbed his massive cock and started stroking it, moaning with each tug.

“Fuck yeah.” He moaned, “Fuck people would be lucky to ride this dick.” He grinned, “Dick’s dick huhuhuh.” A knock at his door broke his concentration and he groaned with disappointment. His cock remained tented in his pants, but he didn’t care. He opened the door, casually scratching his hairy pit, “Oh fuck, Thomas dude! What’s up?”

Thomas grinned, “Richard?” He asked, “Wow.”

“Impressed broski? And don’t call me Richard. More of a Richy.” Richy grinned, “Come in, bro! Look, I’m like totally sorry about earlier. All that nerd stuff that you like. Didn’t mean to be a dick about it.”

“You don’t have to worry, Richy. You made it quite clear that you’re not a nerd anymore.” Thomas chuckled, “You wanted to be a stupid jock, well now you are.” 

Richy raised an eyebrow, “Stupid jock?” Something about that wasn’t right. Stupid jock? The words kept echoing in his head, “Stupid jock?” He repeated again, scratching his head, “That’s not... I...” Richy grabbed his head and looked at his friend. For just a second, the dull, dumb look in Richy’s eye was replaced by a knowing intelligence. A horrific realization evident in them. But it quickly lost its spark and his eyes dulled, “Huhuhuh yeah, I guess I’m pretty stupid. But doesn’t really matter when you’ve got this.” He grabbed his bulge and smirked, “Dude, you see that pic I posted? You think I could make it on OnlyFans?”

Thomas nodded, “Yes, I think you could. But I ought to go.”

“No wait bro!” Richy said, blocking his path to the door, “I mean... I know you always say you hate jocks. But its ‘cause you’re into us, right bro?” Thomas’s face reddened, betraying his secret, “So like...” Richy smirked and walked up to Thomas, who’s own khakis were now tented, “You wanna star in my first OnlyFans vid?”

_________

Richy stretched his hands above his head and sniffed his ripe pits. His dick twitched at the smell and he grinned. It’d been a few weeks since he posted his first video to OnlyFans. And yet here he was again, rewatching his first video: “buff jock fucks gay nerd.” Without fail, it always made his dick hard. And even though he posted several more videos since then, he always found himself coming back to this one. But even a masterpiece gets dull and Richy pulled out his phone. He ignored several horrified texts from his parents asking why he dropped out of school, as well as deleting multiple invites to interview for grad programs, whatever those were. Instead he found Thomas’s contact info.

“Hey bro.” He messaged, “Be at my place ASAP.” He took a quick selfie and threw in a few eggplant emojis to get his point across.

Afterwards, he tossed his phone somewhere on his bed. He didn’t need to see Thomas’s response. Sure he was stupid, be he did know one thing. No one, especially not Thomas, could resist this dick. And the knock on his door not even ten minutes later was all the confirmation he needed.

[cupcakeinat0r]

Your middle-aged, loser Genetics professor who has a dad bod <3

Part 8

Miguel usually starts his day off by preparing a dark cup of coffee immediately after finally peeling himself out the bed. With droopy eyes and a five o’clock shadow, his husky figure stumbles into the kitchen, thirsty for caffeine. As he waits for the machine to do its magic, he’ll maybe run his hand through his dark, peppered, slept-on hair or take a moment to clean his glasses with the fibers of his sweats. Once the cup is prepared, the fresh scent of grinded coffee beans in the air, he’ll lean against his kitchen counter, sipping happily from his world’s best brain mug. He’ll relax for a moment, thinking about the material he’s planned for the day. Once he’s done, he’ll wash his cup, and start getting ready.

He left the suit about three years ago, taking up the job as professor of genetics and biochemistry at around the same time.

He’s been happy with his life here. It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. It’s simple. Everything he wanted. All the domesticity that was missing in his life had been rediscovered once he hung the mask. It’s been the best decision he’s ever made.

He didn’t think things could get better until you came along. This gorgeous, smart, funny, sweet person that had him wrapped around their finger. And given his stature and age, he never would have thought you’d fallen, too.

So this morning looks a little different, and every morning since he’s met you, for that matter.

Miguel gets up from bed faster now, with you on his mind. Once he makes his way into the kitchen for his fix of coffee, he’s reminded of the dream, possibly a pornographic one, he had about you. He’s like a horny teenager all over again, with an ache between his legs that, now, only you can inflict on him, and it’s there every morning.

Miguel now uses the time that it takes for the coffee to drip to shoot you a good morning text, accompanied by multiple heart emojis. And of course, he takes a little longer to get ready in the mornings just because he wants to make sure he looks his absolute best for you.

Today, while sipping on his café, he remembers the conversation you two had. It was when you two had gone to his office after the library. And then he remembered the things he shared with you about his past life; how amazingly you took the dump of lore. Only a higher power would know what anyone else would’ve done or said after hearing things like that. He smiles to himself as he thinks about your one and only question/response to it all:

“Are you happy?”

The response itself was all that he needed to see if his feelings for you were valid, and these feelings have become the strongest thus far. Miguel doesn’t want to jinx it, but he thinks what he’s feeling is something a tad bit more serious than a simple crush, and that both excites and terrifies him.

While he gets ready for the day, he then thinks about the conversation prior to that. He meant everything he said last night about not having sex, but at the same time, he would want nothing more than to show you how much of a good man he can be to you, both in daily life and in bed. Even though he’s hard at the very thought of you, he also wants you to feel safe more than anything. Being with you is far more important than the needs of his dick.

The fact that you’re his student also sort of weighs in as well. Getting caught in a professor/student scandal on the last week of classes before you receive your masters would be disastrous. Thankfully (and surprisingly), no one has been suspicious of y’all this semester.

Honestly, Miguel is just looking forward to Summer, because for him, that means he gets to take you out and enjoy you every chance he gets.

<3

For the last few days of classes, you tend to your exams and Miguel busies himself with his own work. You guys haven’t really been with each other, with the exception of passing each other in the halls. It hasn’t been easy on you at all, and even more so on Miguel. Let’s just say his office door has been spending more time locked than unlocked, and not to score papers. Thankfully, the walls are thick.

The day you take Miguel’s exam is the very last day of classes, and at this point, both of you are antsy to not only see but just feel each other. The tension in the air is thick, the text messages have become spicier, and on multiple occasions have the phone calls been so close to just becoming pure phone sex, but you and Miguel had to keep your distance. Just for this week, and afterward, y’all can do anything you desired. For now, you have to settle for the small touches and occasional eye contact during the exam.

That night when he dropped you off at your place, you half joked about him giving you a perfect score purely out of bias.

“I would never. I take my exams very seriously, for your information.” He responded smugly, his hairy forearm on the door of his car where the window would be. “Besides, you’re far too smart for that.“ His voice softens toward the end of his sentence, that lovesick smile he always gawks at you with on his face.

“I’m serious, Mig. I want an accurate grade.” You match his volume, leaning down onto the car window, face to face with him.

“Mama, I promise. I’m sure you’ll get a perfect score anyways, but on the off chance that you don’t,” he leans closer to, his breath on yours, “Maybe I’ll just have to give you more private sessions during the Summer.” You chuckle against his lips once they meet yours.

“You’re such a horndog.” The words are muffled by his lips and tongue. “Only for you.” He mumbles, unable to keep his mouth off of yours. Miguel really was hot n bothered by you all the time, but honestly, you wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s your little loser after all.

The glances and “accidental” brushing of hands had definitely occurred before and during the exam. Emotionally, it kind of took y’all back to the beginning of the semester, when the feelings were first bubbling. Alas, you had to stay focused. Compared to your peers, you practically flying through it. Even though you spent half the time mingling during them (and making out), the tutoring actually helped in the end.

When it was time to submit your exam, you gave him a knowing look. All Miguel does is give you a smile, but one that was genuine and sweet. One that reassured you in the sentiment that he was going to score you accurately.

At the end of the day, you didn’t even care about what score you got, as long as Miguel nor you get in trouble. That’s all that mattered to you.

<3

It’s later in the day, and you’re in your dorm. Tomorrow is your big day. The day you walk along the stage and take your master’s in your hand; physical proof of your knowledge and hardwork. You were also thinking about Miguel and what he’s up to, but what’s new.

You were thinking about how after your graduation, Miguel will no longer be your professor and you his student. You would just be two people who were absolutely crazy about each other, and you were looking forward to that.

You get a text from Miguel.

Missing my baby. Just thinking of you.

Aw, I miss my big teddy bear, too. What you up to?

Finished about 30% of these papers. Need to take a break, though. What if I came and picked you up?

And go where?

Home

I’m already at home, ya goof

I mean my home, but you absolutely don’t have to. We could go to the library or whatever you want.

No! I’d love to come over.

You sure?

Of course, I wanna see what other books I can steal from you

Only in this for the books, I see. Ouch.

Don’t be dramatic, you know that’s not true

Do I?

You gonna pick me up or not?

Putting my shoes on.

He had you kicking your feet. You were unsure if it was a good idea, but that didn’t stop it from being an extremely enticing one. You were just worried about someone seeing you enter his home, but otherwise, you would love to see where he lives, despite making the deal about not seeing each other until after graduation. This whole time, you’ve only gotten familiar with his office, and that’s only one small part of him. You just couldn’t wait any longer to be near him, and besides, classes are technically over.

<3

“So you’re half spider?” You and Miguel relax in his living room. You scour his book shelves while he makes you a drink. His place is exactly how you imagined it. It’s a balance of sharp and cozy, like him.

“I know, not the most exciting of confessions.” Miguel’s sarcasm seeps through his speech and it makes you huff. Such a sass master.

“I’m being for real. I think that’s amazing and all, but I’m glad you chose to leave that life.” Your eyes are still on the spines of his books when you start to hear heavy footsteps coming your way. He’s just as excited to be near you as you are, if not, more.

“Me, too,” Miguel wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pressing a kiss on your head, “or else I would’ve never met you.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” You playfully comment, getting on your tip toes to kiss him, his pouch rumbling against your torso from his chuckling. “Definitely. Without you, I was starting to lead on a pretty lame life.” Miguel humored at himself. He knew that although going to teach classes, returning back home, and repeat was a pretty peaceful routine, he also knew it could be a boring one at times.

You lean your head back in exaggerated astonishment, “Why would you say that? You’re the coolest person I know, and not because you were spider-man,” you run your hands up and down his chest as you list off his cool factors, “You’re a genius, you’re a family man, you’re funny, you’re also an Austen man, what more could I ask for?”

Miguel looks down at you, his muse, his angel, his everything. “Thanks, mamita. I’m proud to be your choice. Making me feel like the luckiest man in the universe.” You’re enjoying this little romantic banter between you two, and Miguel loves it.

“However, that last one is a secret between us. Can’t have people knowing that their exSpider-Man enjoys classic literature.”

“Speaking of which, have you gotten to the end of pride and prejudice?” You take his hand and lead him to the couch where you both plop down and find a good cuddle position. Miguel is the perfect amount of warmth even though he wore nothing but sweats, meaning his dad build was out in all of its glory. It took everything in you not to pounce on him. Miguel wasn’t much help either. When he’s sitting down and you’re sitting in between his legs and he brings you in close to him to hug you. He’s all kissing your neck and playing with the waistband of your pants with his hand because truly he wants to eat you out so so so bad and is extremely so hard by the intimacy, but he knows tonight is not the night, and so did you.

“I’m not finished yet, but I’m close.” He mumbles against your skin. Miguel was always a master of flipping your switch, this time using the smacking of his plump lips against your supple skin, claiming your neck, shoulders, and jaw as his.

“Mm… y’know what would be a great idea?” you manage to get out.

Miguel stops what he’s doing and braces himself. “Oh God. What?”

“If you read whatever you have left of the book to me.”

“You want me to read it? Out loud?” Miguel finds this cute. You nod your head eagerly, and Miguel was absolutely cooed by the request. “Like I’ve said millions of times before, I love the sound of your voice.”

“Para ti? Claro Que si, mi vida.” And so he went and grabbed the book and his glasses, settling back into his position under you, and began reading in his soft, silky voice. You listened intently, the words falling right out of his mouth, making music to your ears. For Miguel, this was an honor. He’ll take glances down at you and see that you’re in total awe of him, latching onto every word he recites. He hadn’t done something like this since, well, Gabriella.

This is the life he wanted. The life he had been living the past three years had served him well, but Miguel felt it. He felt it was time for another chapter. He was so certain. He’s decided he wants this every night.

Miguel reads on, simultaneously rehearsing what he’ll say in his head. The themes of newfound love and romance of the book was inspiring him. It made the scene all too perfect for the both of you. He then takes a long pause on a page. You can feel his belly hitch. “Everything alright?” You ask softly. “I’m okay. More than okay.” He sounds as though he might get emotional.

Miguel looks away from the book and into your eyes, putting the novel down. You two are in his home, on his couch, cuddling with a book, and the school year has come to an end. Miguel needs to say something and feels it’s time to share it. It’s now or never.

“You,” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes shining, breath steadying,

“I love you.”

The words send your heart rate to oblivion.

“W-what?”

“I love you.” Miguel says this so matter of factly, like he’s never been so sure of something in his life.

You had to make sure what you heard matched what he said and it did. You’ve wondered when he would say it. You would’ve been fine had he done so on the first date! You only have one response to this, and tears well up in your eyes before you can say it, “I love you, too.” You attack Miguel with kisses, and both of you relish in this monumental moment in your blossoming relationship. You’ve finally found the prince to your fairytale.

“I adore you”, “I worship you”, “I’m so proud of you,” and more “I love you”s fall from Miguel’s lips, making the tears well up in your eyes again and your heart swell even more.

Miguel continues to read for you, savoring the special memory you both will now share for a very long time. Sometimes, he’ll just stop mid paragraph just to say it to you again, that he loves you, and you say it back. Both of you are giddy little kids, telling each other how much you love the other, trying to one up each other like it’s a contest. At some point, you can feel yourself start to fall, and Miguel sees it, but he proceeds with the story. The mixture of his lulling voice and the soothing sensation of his rising and falling tummy was the perfect combo for sleep. Once you’re completely out, Miguel turns off the lights by voice command, and lays a blanket over you. He holds you tight against him, as if you could disappear at any moment, and plants a kiss lovingly on your forehead. He whispers ‘te amo, mi vida’ before slumber takes him over as well.

<3

You can feel a light gently shed on your eyelids. You’re not fully conscious yet, drifting between the states of awake and asleep.

Your fingers flicker with life, and you think you feel something rough. Your eyes crack and you’re met with a blurred figure. Your vision focuses and you make out a face, your fingers lingering on the jaw. Your lips curl at this face. The closest thing in view is a pair of dark lips, parted and inspiring deep, low snores. Taking account of their breath, you feel the inhaling and exhaling of his stomach against your front side. You lift your head slightly to get a better view of the person you currently lay on top of. Tousled black hair, dark eye lashes that ornament sleeping eyes, thick brows lacking the tension creases that would otherwise be there, and some missing glasses, which now sit on a side table. The sight was sweet enough to make the coldest heart melt. You take a moment to just observe his breathing, his relaxed state, and start leaving small, ghostly caresses on his face, absorbing each line and shape of his rugged complexion. This is the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him. You wanna stay in it forever. The outside world finally makes its presence known with a few chirps of birds, and your attention goes to a window and that’s when it hits you: you’re still in Miguel’s place, and you both had fallen asleep on his couch. At last, you gain enough consciousness to realize that, for the entirety of the night, you had been held the same way a child holds their most beloved teddy bear by your exprofessor, now lover.

No, you two didn’t have sex, just like how it had been discussed a few days ago. You were both still clothed, yet, somehow, this feels even more intimate than when y’all eat each other’s faces.

Your attention is stolen back by the snores of the man below you, which makes you stifle laughter. You could honestly lay there watching him for hours. Your eyes glazed over every inch to ingrain the perfect mental image of this soft moment.

A few more seconds pass by before his snoring pattern comes to an abrupt halt and his eyes flutter open, landing on you. His watch goes off in a small, irritable beep. His tired eyes lift as he smiles at the view, despite the noise. This was something that he’s dreamt of waking up to every day.

“G’morning, sleeping beauty,” you softly speak, leaning down for a kiss on his forehead, “You sleep good?” Your voice is sweet, the moment seconds before leaving it honey-like.

“Morning,” his hands that wrapped around your waist unravel and rub your back, “Mhm. like a baby. Don’t think I’ve slept like that in… well, ever.” An early raspiness spills from his lips and its deep enough to make your insides flutter. “Me too.” You reply, gazing into each other’s eyes before sharing one or two good morning kisses on the lips.

“Can you confirm something for me?” You continue, and Miguel raises an eyebrow.

“Was I dreaming or did you say the L-word to me last night?” A giggle leaves Miguel’s mouth. “Yeah, I did, and I’ll say it again.” He says in his low voice. You grin ear to ear, bodies glued together as if they were merging into one. His hands come up to your face tenderly, and with pride, he confesses again,

“I love you.”

A/n: I’m back girlies, did u miss me?

<3Taggies<3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow

@hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu

@mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @tinythebunni

[seobstarr]

Mask Off.

paringl: spiderman!Wonbin x best friend!fem reader

genre!: action, fluff, a tiney winey bit of angst,

tropes!: one sided pining, best friends to lovers, superhero reveal, the hero and the damsel

synopsis!: Before Wonbin had gotten bitten by the radioactive spider, he was on the path of becoming your, his longtime best friend, boyfriend but when he thinks too hard about the people around him and how devastating it would be if they were caught in the crossfire of his battles he swears to never expose his secret to his friends or you, that is until you run in front of a mechanical 20 foot Rhino to save him—or rather—to save spiderman.

warnings! profanity, mentions of blood, descriptive fight scene, mentions of broken body parts

songs! sunflower- post malone, swae lee, friday im in love- the cure, i wanna be yours- artic monkeys I. pink toes- childish gambino,

Park Wonbin swore that he was professional; he’d bet his life on it. But according to Sohee, he was the dumbest person the universe could’ve given superpowers to.

“This seems a little unethical…” Sohee sighed exasperatedly, evidently more than a little fed up with Wonbin and his escapades. Currently, the two best friends were sitting on top of one of the highest buildings of their university, watching out for somebody as they ate the sandwiches Wonbin's aunt had packed them.

“Are you Spiderman?” Wonbin narrowed his eyes at Sohee who rolled his own in return, taking another large bite out of the PB&J.

“Dude, you’re one of the most wanted vigilantes in Korea! You should be off helping an old lady cross the street, not looking for academic cheaters,” the blonde joked, chuckling to himself in self-satisfied amusement. Wonbin wanted to rebuke him, but he knew he couldn’t.

Wonbin had always joked around with Sohee like that, but today it rubbed him the wrong way. Jokes and jabs that usually bounced off him now stung like barbs, especially those directed at his job. Even though it wasn’t a job, it was his chosen path.

Yes, he should be out swinging through the streets of his city, but he couldn’t help but think about you; How you were doing, what you were doing, if you were safe. You were the third person who completed Wonbin’s small friend circle. The only person he was as close to as he was with Sohee.

He would admit, he probably should be helping an old lady cross the street, given he wasn’t looking for cheaters: he was waiting for you to finish class. He didn't have any more classes until tomorrow, so he had the entire rest of his day to spend and he wanted to spend it with you. Originally, he’d planned to wait by himself, but Sohee had caught him rushing out of his last class toward the School of Chemical Science building.

And that was exactly where they had ended up, on top of the Chemical Science building, waiting for your biochemistry class to be done. “You should eat something; you haven’t touched the sandwich at all,” Sohee spoke again, finishing his lunch with one last bite and eyeing the sandwich and chips Wonbin had next to him. Wonbin rolled his eyes, not daring to face Sohee’s determined gaze a second more.

“Go ahead. I got a 20, I can get something later,” he sniffed, and Sohee practically snatched the food from beside him, earning a small chuckle from Wonbin.

Once the doors opened and the students began to pile out, Wonbin almost broke his neck turning to spot you from the crowd. When his eyes finally landed on you, struggling to fit your textbooks back into your bag, his heart stopped, his cheeks flushed, and his chest tightened.

A smile crept across the corner of his lips as he stood up. “Okay, I’ll see you later!” Wonbin bowed jokingly and waved, his right heels leading off the edge of the building before he fully plummeted towards the ground.

“Wait!—“ Sohee gasped, hand reaching out towards his already falling friend. He groaned, how was he supposed to get off the roof if the door was locked and Wonbin had carried him up?

Wonbin excitedly, if not clumsily, threw his bag over his shoulders as he stumbled in front of you, a dorky big smile expressed on his face. “Aren’t you supposed to be home?” you sarcastically chuckled as you continued to walk, his footsteps matching yours as he followed.

“I’m actually here to walk you home,” you proceed to laugh more, finally fitting the book into your bag. “What a gentleman,” jokingly you tilt your head toward him. Wonbin had always felt like a big person in your life, his presence was always there in all of your memories, even if it was a small one. He was always the clumsy, dorky, funny, and unintentionally annoying Wonbin, but lately, for the past few months, he had been acting out of the ordinary, out of your ordinary.

Instead of showing up to class early or on time, he would now show up at least 20 minutes late and you’d have to write another pair of notes for him in a separate journal. He also would show up unannounced like he knew where you were at all times. To say the least, it started to get suspicious to you. “Made a new playlist,” his voice had broken you out of the thoughts that clouded your brain.

Your eyes focus on him next to you. “Shouldn’t you have been doing homework?” You smile, and his laugh floats through your body.

“Take it or leave it,” your hand grazes past his to take the earphone from him, and Wonbin swears he could feel his heart tighten from the little interaction of where your fingertips grazed over his.

As Wonbin continues to fool around, the familiar banter-filled walk envelops the both of you. Playful jokes and shared laughs punctuate the journey, making it feel like it’s been hours since you had left campus. As they stumble along, Wonbin spots a small convenience store and nudges the fir beside him with a grin. "Hey, wanna grab something, I’ll pay?" Without saying a word, you chuckle and nod, the light glinting off your eyes at the sound of something to eat, stomach grumbling.

"Sure, but only if you promise not to take forever picking out the perfect snack this time." Wonbin feigns shock, placing a hand over his heart. "I have standards okay, Y/n," his eyebrow goes into an arch as you both share a laugh and head into the store, playfully bickering about which chips and drinks to choose. The chatter flows effortlessly as you walk into the store, like an old record playing a familiar tune. Wonbin teases, holding up one of his favorite chip bags. “You know, I'm pretty sure these chips are made from top executive potato farms." You raise an eyebrow, matching his playful tone. "Oh, so you're a chip connoisseur now?"

His head nods in agreement. "There’s no way these chips can be this good, there’s just no way," his shoulders shrug back into him in disbelief sharing a laugh, you shaking your head, the atmosphere light and carefree. The convenience store's fluorescent lights cast a warm glow on your faces as you continue the lighthearted debate.

With one of the other hands carrying each side of the bag of snacks, you both continue on the pathway, drifting back into the comfortable city silence.

When you approach your house, Wonbin expects nothing less than to be welcomed in and hang out with you until nightfall.

You unlock the front door to your empty house and turn to Wonbin, ready to do what he had just thought, but he stops himself from smiling into your gaze. Quickly the goofy smile on Wonbin’s face fades down into a serious line, a sudden tension seizes him and the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight up to alert him.

His hand goes back to pet them down, trying to ignore the pressing feeling, but the unsettling feeling is making him nauseous, his hands starting to sweat as he physically looks uncomfortable. “Bin?, You okay?” Worriedly you ask, sensing that something was wrong.

“Wonbin!” You shout into his ears, blocking your concern. “I’m so sorry, y/n, I forgot that my aunt needed help around the apartment tonight,” a held sigh escapes, and you nod in disappointment.

“Okay, you owe me one though, a hangout, I mean.” Suddenly, your smile gives him some sort of relief, even if it was a small dose. He nods. “Of course, I know the drill.” He’s already making his way down the front steps of your porch when his body tenses even more with the now overbearing feeling of discomfort. His eyes closed, trying to calm his annoyed nerves as his fists curl inward to form a tight ball, knuckles turning white.

The reaction his brain had become overwhelming, the thought of hundreds of people in danger replaying over in his head, as he walked down the street, away from your house and hoping to god that you were safe from the destruction he was about to overcome. His phone rings rapidly with a call from Sohee.

His nerves calm down from the recognition of his best friend's number, and he picks up the phone, beginning with a simple “What’s up dude?” before he is cut off by a panicked Sohee. “bin, where are you right now?” His tone sounded frantic, but overwhelmingly calm, like he was trying to deescalate the situation, make it seem under control. “Just left y/n's, why?” Wonbin concluded, his serious tone beckoning Wonbin to speed up the slow walk he had sported.

"You need to come to the campus, right now." The serious tone in Sohees voice was drastically different from the usual playful one he would have in his earpiece during missions. Wonbins thumb hits the red end button on his phone before aiming his wrist to the nearest street pole and swinging himself up into the air.

-

-

When Wonbin made it to the school's campus, he was met with a sight that would make a regular person's heart stop. Luckily, Wonbin is nowhere near a normal human. Through the dotted specs of his suit goggles stood a machine that could’ve reached the clouds if built a little taller.

Standing at the end of the quad area and in Wonbin’s way was one of the enemies he had made along his way to success, Rhino. A bulky almost 20-foot Machinery in the shape and build of a Rhinoceros, complete with the guy behind the machine in the dead center controlling it. Wonbin stretches, rolling his eyes at how relentless this guy was. Just because he had stopped the guy's bank robbery did not mean that he had to build a 20-foot-tall steel animal as revenge.

“Y’know..” He shouts, voice cutting through the warm hues of the afternoon, a mix of confidence and sarcasm “When I said “Get stronger before you face me” I didn’t mean add missiles to the outer of your suit,” he chuckled, the red and blue hues of his costume standing out against the shadows.

Rhino, his yellow-tinted teeth seething menacingly, growled in response. "I hate that snotty mouth of yours, Spider."

Wonbin grinned beneath his mask, allowing his agile feet to guide him closer to Rhino. "Yeah, I’ve heard that before, don’t worry," he sighed, the rhythmic thuds of his web-shooters accompanying each step.

“Okay…Let’s get this over with, yeah? I’d hate to speed things up, but I got somewhere to be, Rhino,” Wonbin mumbled a bit, his words trailing on and on as he shot one of his webs to grab the closest object near him and slung it into Rhino, making the heavy machinery falter backward. Wonbin’s eyes widened. “Maybe that wasn't the right move…” Before he could react with another snarky remark, his opponent was already charging toward him, the tip of the steel Rhino horn rapidly approaching Wonbin. His web from his left arm shot and swung him out just in time before Rhino shook into the wall Wonbin was in front of.

Wonbin prayed that Sohee was safe as he swung effortlessly through the cityscape, the rhythmic thud of Rhino's heavy steps echoing in the narrow alley. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if Sohee was off bleeding out somewhere and Wonbin wasn’t there to help him. The night air crackled with tension as the two adversaries faced each other, the glow of the city's lights casting dramatic shadows.

Rhino's massive form loomed before Wonbin, who quirked an eyebrow beneath his mask. "Missiles, Rhino? Stepping up your game," he quipped, a playful smirk on his face.

The villain grunted with anger, his horned helmet gleaming in the dim light. "Can't wait untill I put a hole through that body, maybe that'll get you to stop talking"

Wonbin chuckled, a characteristic humor lingering in the face of danger. "Good luck with that, big guy," and with one last snarky remark, the clash began, a symphony of punches, kicks, and maneuvers as Wonbin skillfully dodged Rhino's powerful attacks. He flipped and swung around, using the urban landscape to his advantage. His webs wrapped around various parts of the close-witted apartments to land blows.

"You move like a wrecking ball, Rhino! No wonder they call you that," Wonbin taunted, ducking under a powerful swing.

Rhino snarled, charging forward with renewed fury. "I'll smash you into the pavement!"

Wonbin’s spider-sense tingled as the battle intensified, warning him of Rhino's next move. He leaped up into the air, narrowly avoiding Rhino's onslaught. The sounds of impact echoed through the open city streets, followed by the misdirected shrieks of pedestrians as they paid witness to the fight.

But one scream had caught Wonbin’s attention. If he didn’t have his senses, he wouldn’t have noticed your terror-filled screams. His attention redirected itself to where you were, his panic-ridden eyes desperately scanning the crowd of sprinting people to spot you.

As his eyes dart to find you, Rhino had spotted an opening, landing one big spring full blow to Wonbins side, and from the hit, the fabric on his leg and right side of his arm is almost completely disregarded, blood sparkling down the open cut. His legs shakily tried to push himself up, but the blow was powerful enough to weaken the superhero's stamina.

“Spiderman!” The voice rendered him still, his masked eyes following the sound of your voice as you rapidly ran towards him. He had almost gasped if it wasn’t for his enemy watching for his close reaction to the stranger helping him up. The last thing he would want was for Rhino to know your connection with him

“Are you alright?!” You didn’t know why you had decided to run in the middle of the crossfire to help up the vigilante that had been swinging over your city's cold nights, but something had compelled you to recollect yourself out of your terror and help him as the hit from the mechanical rhinoceros came in contact with the hero's side.

“Oh yeah, Totally fine,” he coughs in between words as you help him up to his feet. Wonbin tried to let out a big huff of breath, but the puncture on his body didn’t let him, every time he tried to breathe the gain of pain became worse.

With a squeeze of his shoulder, he realizes who helped him up, and his panic-filled thoughts circle back to you. His head turned. “Oh my god, you shouldn’t be here. Like at all,” he squeaked.

“Shit, shit, shit—” His mumbles become incoherent as his hand holds out, web wrapping around the light post and pulling both of you into the sky. You scream, understandably, not everyone is normal about swinging for the first time; hell, Wonbin couldn’t even grasp the concept of it for the first few months of his new persona. His breath hitches at the pain surrounding his body as he utilizes his power more deeply, desperately trying to get you to safety while also desperately trying to lose Rhino.

“Oh my god, Oh my god, I’m in the air—I’m swinging through the air. Holy shit—”

“Technically I’m swinging through the air; you are flying, I guess,” he corrects amidst the tension of the situation. The air circling through your nose had made it unable to grasp the feeling of being so high. “Make a left!” you shout at him. “Not to be that kind of superhero, but I do not think I should be taking orders from a girl who risked her life to help a regenerating spider-human hybrid,” Wonbin snaps back, making another swing forward. “And I don’t think you should be flying—”

“Swinging,” Wonbin grunts. “Okay! Fine, swinging. I don't think you should be swinging through the air while you could potentially be internally bleeding.” You had made a good point, swinging through the air would only make his injury worse.

“Make a left, my friend's apartment is down on 17th Street.” He mentally nods before making a sharp left, trying to make it to 17th Street before he had weakened even more. He makes another hard left but this time pushes himself up more.

His feet land on top of the building you had ordered him to go to. “Thank god we lost him on that last turn—”

“What the hell were you thinking, Y/n?! You could’ve seriously been hurt, let alone died,” Wonbin’s voice laces itself with frustration. His first instinct was to check you for any bruises, shaking your body side to side forcibly. “Wha-What..?”

“God, I know you could be a little dense, but I didn’t think you’d be this stupid—”

“How do you know my name?” You question, ignoring his cries of worry.

“What? Don’t tell me you have whiplash from being launched in the air,” his voice fades out as he realizes what he has just done. There was a moment of silence, the cold air of the now nightfall surrounding the tense situation. “Well, I know every civilian's name,” he huffs out.

A bluff, you thought “You do?” Y/n deadpans. “Of-Of course!”

“Take your mask off,” Wonbin gulped at the command. His hand twitched in contemplation. He couldn't say no to you, even if it meant putting you in danger by telling you his secret. But if it meant keeping you safe, he wouldn’t mind telling you no.

He promised himself that nobody close to him would get hurt as long as he had these powers. When Sohee had found out, a part of him had felt disappointed in himself for letting that happen. But if you had found out, Wonbin would have to harm himself before letting you fall into the hands of endangerment.

He just couldn’t do it. “I-I can’t, at least not right now, Y/n,” his voice becomes raspy as his air shortens, the injury becoming worse with every second he sits here and rattles his brain about you.

“I’m not going to judge, nor am I going to act surprised. Just please, I need to know who you are,” you beg, the scraps and little cuts on your hands going up to feel the warmth of his mask. “I cannot put you in danger as I did—like I did my other friend,” your fingertips slide slightly under his mask to pull it up, but his covered hand stops you from doing so.

“You aren’t going to put me in harm's way; I can handle myself…”

“I can’t—”

“Wonbin, please.” It was like Wonbin’s heart had dropped, his feet felt unstable, and dizziness wandering up from the back of his head, part of him wondered if it was because of how much blood he was losing but a part of him knew it was from the name drop the way he froze up.

His larger hand softly unwraps yours as he finally lets you lift his mask and pull it off of his face, revealing the busted lip and potential black eye he had gotten from the fight. “How did you—”

“I only have two friends that care about me that much. And I know Sohee would not be the type to ruin his face battling a mechanical Rhino the size of a tennis court,” a soft smile reaches your lips as the taller stands in front of you in shock, his messy hair rubbing against his long eyelashes. “I’ve been racking my brain on why you’d been acting so strange lately. Why’d you never show up to class, or be late to the few you have attended, Why you wouldn’t go to karaoke with me and Sohee—”

“Okay, okay. I get it, a lot of questions little amount of breath,” Wonbin weakly chuckles, holding his side tightly. “But we can save those for a later date. I’m just glad that you are safe.” If he wasn’t beaten to a pulp right now, you would’ve said that this was the most handsome he had looked in the time you had known him. His hair messy, the air drying up his lips by the minute, the weak warm smile he sported while looking at you in desperation.

You step closer to him, almost too hastily, because when you softly smash your lips into his he stumbles back a bit before stabilizing himself on the rooftop's rubble. It had felt like the world had rejoiced at the sight of you two, like the air had been stripped from the gasses and the cold air from the night had become warm as both of your lips had synced together. You giggle in between pecks, an endearing sight to Wonbin’s eyes.

You never wanted that moment to end, the pure bliss of the moment filling your gut with butterflies but then your eyes spot down to his torso, where he holds it roughly with the little strength he has left.

You push him off slightly. “Oh! Let’s get you to a hospital. You could die—”

“NO! No hospital, I’m fine,” he grunts. “You are not fine—”

“I’ll be okay since I inherited spider senses, that means my body heals itself faster than the average human. I just need to rest; the longer I put pressure on it, the longer it’ll take to heal.” You nod at his explanation. You are not going to say no to his methods, considering how he’s the one with the superpowers.

His arms wrap around your waist, hugging you into him tightly. “Good thing I was your first choice when you thought about a hiding spot.” He chuckled, his apartment being 3 levels down from where you both stood.

-

-

A warm towel lays upon Wonbin’s head as he lays in his bed watching television, the remote flipping through various movies. It had been the next day, you had spent the night taking care of his wounds because

1.) You couldn’t let your newly pronounced boyfriend suffer alone with little to no treatment,

and 2.) he begged you to stay with him.

“By the way...” you trailed on from his desk chair, fidgeting with his Rubik's cube.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve been your guy in the chair,” you exclaim, huffing into a pout, and he chuckles at your personal dilemma. “I mean, I could still be your guy in the chair—”

“You will not be my guy in the chair; Sohee is that already.”

Your eyebrow cocked upward. “Oh, so Sohee knew about this before me?”

“ON ACCIDENT,” he protests. “Yeah, okay, I doubt that.”

footnotes!

notes!- hi, it's been a while lol. This was supposed to be a zb1 fic but I changed it last minute bc I miss my pookies. please let me know how you like it feedback is always appreciated!!! maybe I'll even do a part 2 with the events (Gwen death scene) of amazing Spiderman 2 who knooowss also if it says gyuvin or tricky anywhere let me know...please.

[copperbadge]

Oh no.

The therapist and I have been working on pinning down how I'm going to actually use therapy and came to an agreement that probably the issue I was struggling with was emotional regulation, and I said "Okay, so the problem is if you google something like 'how to feel stuff less' or 'stop feeling stuff faster' you just get a lot of nonsense and clickbait."

And she laughed and said she'd have to try that search but she'd send me some links to vetted articles that would be more helpful. And I'm reading the articles today ahead of therapy tomorrow (I only got them yesterday) and uh.

Well, the good news is that this isn't the first time I've read them. The unfortunate news is that they're by and large what I dismissed as clickbait.

If I had the money, I think I'd just go back to school for some kind of degree in the biochemistry of ADHD, because there must be something beyond "have you tried feeling things less" and "when you're upset, imagine a nice forest".

Then again if I had that kind of money it wouldn't actually be an issue anyway, so I suppose here we are. Should have married rich.

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— i got wasted like all my potential ; after your repeated mistakes, struggles with the lab work, and lack of progress, tsukishima scolds you harshly till you’re breaking down in front of him

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | #daleelahwritings🐭

The air in the lab was always thick with the scent of chemicals, the hum of equipment, and the nervous energy of students trying to avoid mistakes. Each week, the practicum grew more complex. What started as simple measurements and basic reactions quickly escalated into multi-step processes that demanded precision and a deep understanding of biochemistry—both of which you struggled with.

Today’s experiment involved a protein extraction procedure. The lab instructions were dense with scientific jargon that made your head spin. You reread the steps multiple times, trying to make sense of them, but it was like trying to decipher a foreign language. Around you, your classmates were already setting up their stations with practiced ease, moving in groups they had long since formed. You couldn’t help but notice how seamlessly they worked together, exchanging tips and helping each other out.

You glanced over at Tsukishima, who was busy assisting another group with the accuracy of their results. He looked so calm and collected, his tall figure standing out as he leaned over to explain something with a level of patience that was hard to reconcile with the way he always seemed to snap at you.

Determined not to mess up again, you carefully measured out the reagents, trying to remember everything Tsukishima had scolded you about last time. But as you transferred the solution into the centrifuge, your hand slipped, and the liquid spilled across the countertop. Panic surged through you as you frantically tried to clean up the mess, knowing that this mistake would not go unnoticed.

And it didn’t.

Tsukishima’s shadow fell over your station, and you froze, your heart pounding. He let out a long sigh, his frustration palpable. “Are you even trying to read the instructions?” His voice was low but edged with irritation. “I showed you this step just last week. How could you mess it up again?”

You bit your lip, tears threatening to well up in your eyes. The entire class seemed to have paused, all too familiar with the routine by now—another day, another scolding. It felt like everyone was waiting for you to break under the pressure, to finally admit that you didn’t belong here.

But Tsukishima, as harsh as he was, didn’t walk away. Instead, he grabbed another set of reagents and started the process from scratch. “Pay attention this time,” he muttered, demonstrating the steps once more. He moved with the precision and confidence of someone who had done this countless times before. “You need to stop being so careless. This isn’t something you can just half-ass.”

His words stung, but you nodded, forcing yourself to focus on what he was doing. He had a way of making you feel like a complete idiot, yet there was something in the way he didn’t just abandon you that kept you from giving up entirely.

As he handed the equipment back to you, his gaze softened slightly. “If you keep making the same mistakes, you’ll never get this. You need to practice more, or you’re going to fail.”

“I’m trying,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I really am.”

“Try harder,” he snapped, but his tone lacked the usual bite. You couldn’t tell if he was genuinely angry or just tired of seeing you struggle. He watched as you completed the step under his supervision, nodding slightly when you finally managed to do it correctly.

Over the next few weeks, the pattern continued. Each lab session brought a new challenge, and with it, more opportunities to mess up. Whether it was miscalculating concentrations, mixing up solutions, or just getting lost in the labyrinth of complex procedures, it seemed like you were always on the verge of disaster. And Tsukishima, true to form, was always there to call you out on it.

“Did you even check the pH before adding that buffer?” he asked one afternoon, his eyes narrowing as he looked over your notes. “This is basic stuff. You should know better by now.”

You hung your head, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising in your cheeks. It wasn’t just his words; it was the weight of knowing that you were disappointing him again and again.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, not for the first time.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Being sorry isn’t going to help you pass this class. Are you just trying to waste my time?”

His question hit you harder than you expected, and you could feel your throat tighten. You had spent so much time just trying to survive each practicum that you hadn’t really stopped to think about why you were doing this in the first place. But instead of answering, you chose to keep silent, hoping that maybe this time, your apology would be enough to placate him.

Tsukishima remained silent, clearly waiting for you to say more, to give him something to work with. He wanted you to argue back, to tell him what you were struggling with so he could actually help. But when all you offered was another weak, “I’m sorry,” you could see the disappointment flicker in his eyes.

He hissed with tiredness and frustration. “Well then, you’ve got your goal so perfectly. Congratulations on making me waste my time on you.” His tone was bitter, laced with a sharp edge that cut deeper than any of his previous scoldings. “If you’re just going to keep saying ‘sorry’ and not actually try to improve, then maybe you should rethink why you’re even here.”

After his scolding, Tsukishima turned away from you, leaving you to struggle on your own. The weight of his words pressed down on you, making it difficult to focus, but you forced yourself to push through. Determined not to be the failure he saw you as, you stayed long after the other students had left, methodically redoing each experiment that you had messed up earlier.

The lab was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the faint hum of the equipment and your own breath. It took hours, but eventually, you managed to complete the tasks, albeit with trembling hands and an exhausted mind.

You silently placed your lab report on Tsukishima's desk, hoping this ordeal would be over. As you turned away to return to your station and pack up, you heard him flip through the pages. His silence was unnerving, and just as you were about to make your escape, his voice, laced with irritation, stopped you in your tracks.

“Is this your idea of fixing things?” His tone was biting, and you flinched, slowly turning back to face him.

He was staring at the report with a look of deep dissatisfaction. “You’ve been here for hours, and this is the best you can do?”

You felt your heart sink. “I—I tried to—”

“Try harder!” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. He stood up, towering over you, the full weight of his height and anger making you feel small and insignificant. “Do you even care about this? Because right now, it seems like you’re wasting both your time and mine.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears, but his harsh words felt like daggers. “I’m sorry…”

“Stop saying you’re sorry!” he cut you off sharply. “I don’t want apologies. I want results! Do you even understand how much effort it takes to fix your mistakes? And yet, you keep making the same ones over and over. It’s like you’re not even trying to improve.”

The tears you’d been holding back started to well up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You wanted to defend yourself, to explain that you were doing your best, but the words got stuck in your throat. All you could manage was a pathetic, “I’m trying…”

“Trying?” Tsukishima scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. “If this is your idea of trying, then you’re hopeless. At this rate, you’re going to fail this class, and I’ll be the one who has to watch you flounder around, wasting everyone’s time.”

His words were like a punch to the gut. The tears you’d been fighting so hard to hold back finally spilled over, and you quickly looked down, not wanting him to see.

But it was too late. Tsukishima noticed, and for a moment, his expression flickered with something other than anger—maybe regret, or concern—but it was quickly masked by his frustration. “Crying isn’t going to help either,” he muttered, though his voice had lost some of its edge.

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, trying to steady your breathing. You wanted to disappear, to run away from his harsh gaze and never come back. But you were stuck, rooted to the spot by your own shame and helplessness.

He sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “You’re impossible,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then, in a quieter tone, he added, “Why are you even here if this isn’t what you want to do? If you’re just going to half-ass everything and cry whenever things get tough, then maybe you should think about whether this is the right path for you.”

That was the final straw. The weight of everything—your struggles, his harsh words, the pressure from your parents—came crashing down on you all at once. A sob broke free, and before you knew it, you were crying in earnest, the kind of crying that came from deep within, raw and uncontrollable.

Tsukishima looked alarmed, clearly not expecting this reaction. For a moment, he stood frozen, unsure of what to do. But then, awkwardly, he stepped closer to you, hesitating before finally placing a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, stop that,” he said, his voice much softer now, almost gentle. “I didn’t mean to… damn it.”

You couldn’t stop crying, no matter how much you tried to pull yourself together. The stress, the fear, the overwhelming sense of failure—it all came pouring out.

Realizing that his words had done more damage than he intended, Tsukishima, still awkward and hesitant, did the only thing he could think of to comfort you. He pulled you into a hug, his tall frame enveloping you, one hand gently rubbing your back as he murmured a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

You clung to him, the warmth of his embrace and the unexpected softness in his voice finally starting to soothe the raw edges of your emotions. Tsukishima held you, his own heart pounding in his chest, wondering how he’d let things get so out of hand.

As your sobs began to quiet, he pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at you. His usual cold demeanor was gone, replaced by an expression of concern and regret. “I shouldn’t have been so harsh,” he admitted, his voice low. “But you have to understand… I just don’t want to see you fail.”

You sniffled, wiping your eyes with your sleeve, still shaken but calmed by his unexpected kindness. “I… I’ll try harder,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Tsukishima sighed, his hand still resting on your shoulder. “Just… don’t push yourself too hard, okay?” He paused, looking down at you with something softer in his gaze. “We’ll get through this, together.”

He sighed, letting go of you and running a hand through his hair. “Look, just… try not to take everything so personally. I’m hard on you because I want you to do well. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t bother.”

You blinked up at him, surprised by his honesty. “You… care?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t read too much into it. I just don’t want to see you fail.”

Despite his words, you couldn’t help but feel a small spark of hope ignite in your chest. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Tsukishima’s grumpy exterior than he let on. And maybe, if you kept trying, you could prove to him—and to yourself—that you were capable of more than just making mistakes.

[lailawinchesterr]

remedy (v) — sam winchester

> prev, masterlist

summary: you deal with the aftermath of dean’s visit and your outing with sam, it goes half-way according to plan — tags: underage!reader, 22 year old!sam, med student!fem!reader, cursing, said shorter but it’s a ‘jared’ shorter, he’s 6’4.

“Are you…” Sam sighs and you can hear how tired he is, “are you okay?” Today’s been a lot for him. Dean made another appearance after Sam thought it was over, both of you came back to the apartment for a reason— so maybe you’re thinking of yourself a little, but still it’s been stressful for him.

And you just slammed the door in his face. “Changing.”

“The clothes are out here.” You curse at yourself and purse your lips. You open the door slightly, just enough to see Sam’s face, his long tousled hair, and him holding out the pile of clothes to you. You snatch them from his hand and shut the door again. 

They fit well, Sam’s only a couple of inches taller than you so it’s almost okay, the shirt’s a little too long but the pants are sweats so with a tight knot, they hang low enough that it looks cute.

You exhale shakily before opening the door and then letting out a breath of relief that he’s not here. You fold your clothes and put them on Gen’s desk, right next to her books, and take out your phone.

It might seem pathetic, a little childish, but come on, you’re spending the night with Sam, you have the right to be those things to Jess.

You: I’m staying over.

Jess: Over my dead fucking body.

You: Just sleeping. In gen’s room.

Jess: Girl that’s even sadder.

You: Not a word, whore.

Jess: Is so, slut (for Sam).

You: Not funny, Jess. Don’t tell Gen anything, okay? Besides i'm here for Sam, he wants me to stay.

It sounds even more feeble actually typed out.

Jess: Why doesn’t he go talk to lily?

You: He said they’re not together.

Jess: BITCH YOU TALKED TO HIM ABOUT IT?

You: How is that a bad thing?

Jess: IT'S PATHETIC AND DESPERATE!!! I’m going to kill you when I see you.

You shut your phone off and hide it underneath your pillow. Everything will work itself out, with Sam and Dean and Jess and freakin finals that you have next week. You finished anatomy which means there’s physiology and biochemistry 104 left for next week. Which you’ve hardly opened having just finished your histology exam. 

Someone— Sam, obviously— knocks on the door and you tuck your hair behind your ear before saying he could come in. Sam’s brushed his own down, it looks much calmer than it’s usual ‘let it be’ hairstyle he has going for him. He shuts the door behind him— is the air getting thin?

“Look, you say the word and I’ll drive you back home—”

“What? Where’s this coming from?” He raises one eyebrow and takes a step towards you, flustering you so fast, just the way he takes his steps, stares into your eyes, and you stare at your fingers in your lap.

“You slamming the door in my face, you sleeping in Gen’s room, and now you’re not even looking at me, so if you don’t want this—”

“What is this, though?” Your voice drops, slow and cautious. “What is it? Are we…”

He walks over to where you’re sitting, sits down in front of you and reaches one hand out to brush his thumb over your knuckles, “We can’t figure that out if you keep acting like this. And I really like you when you’re not being like— when you aren’t acting scared and shy. You’re the most thoughtful friend, kind.”

“Right, but as a… not-friend, I guess; it wouldn’t work out.”

He shakes his head quickly, “That’s not what I’m saying. It would work if you stopped being so afraid! Of me, or what’s going to happen! Whatever you’re scared of, just don’t be.”

“That’s stupid, Sam,” you pull your fingers away from him so his hand is laying on your lap, barely on your thigh and you keep staring at it, not looking him in the eye quite yet, “being cautious is what helps me stay happy and whole, you know? The second I let my guard down—”

“What? What do you think is gonna happen?”

“I haven’t even known you that long! It’s been three weeks.” He scoffs like that’s the lamest excuse he’s heard in his life and his hand is no longer on your thigh, only God knows where it is because you’re definitely not looking up to see.

“If you don’t look at me while we’re talking then this’ll never fucking work.” The anger in his voice burned like a wildfire inside of you, consuming. it's terrifying how well it works as you involuntarily look up at him. 

It’s not that you’re scared of Sam or that you can’t maintain eye contact, you’ve done so various times, but this feels different, like he’ll dive into your soul if you look into his eyes for too long.

“Sam, I’m not being dramatic about this,” you reinforce, harsher this time, because you know what you feel, and he won’t make it seem small and insignificant. It isn’t. This is exactly what’s helped you avoid heartbreak for the past seventeen years.

“I’m not sayin’ you are. But being scared, nervous, whatever, about this is what makes it worth it. I’m not rushing you, if you wanna take it slower, we will, but I need to know how you feel, otherwise someone’s gonna get hurt and it’ll be because you didn’t tell me what you want right now. You gotta talk to me.”

His eyes up-close are easier to read. He’s desperate for answers, you’d assume that easily with the kind of day he had; filled with questions. You let his name slip with a groan as your head falls back. This is… a lot. But when you look back at him, he isn't deterred, his eyes are still searching yours for an answer.

“I have so many questions though—”

“Ask.”

“Lily.” It comes out before you can stop it but you don’t have time for regret.

“Just a friend. You have to trust me if this is going to work.” Calling your non-relationship this is apperantly the default name.

“I do trust you,” Risky considering you just met him, “but you never told me about the hangouts. You guys go out alone.”

“She’s top of the class, it helps to study with her.” Apparently that’s something you’ll have to get used to, him hanging around other girls. No questions come to mind after that, except maybe the most obvious one. That’s bothering both of you. 

“Sam—”

“I’ll wait. If you want me to wait for six months, I will.” You tilt your head in confusion, “I like you, a lot, and if my age bothers you then I’ll wait as long as you want. But you will not use it as a reason against us.”

It's probably all you’ve ever wanted your whole life. Being the youngest in your classes, in college, in basically everything you’ve ever participated in has always made you think you’re less than you are. You can’t be successful because you’re too young, it’s okay to fail because you still have years to catch up— it’s insulting and honestly just fucking annoying. 

But it’s still not that easy, even if you want to be with Sam people will talk. You don’t look seventeen, but you are, and you’re friends know so, since you don’t have a license. You’ll get the looks and talks you don’t want to even come near but it’s inevitable. 

It’s worth it. Sam is worth it.

“Yeah let’s, can we take it slow? Just for a while, so I can understand this before we decide to get into it.” You don’t date for the hell of it but while you’re not naive enough to think you’ll marry Sam, your heart needs time to catch up.

He nods with a small smile, finally. “How slow is slow?”

Great question. How slow is kissing? Probably slow enough, you think as you lean in, your lips inches apart. His eyes do that thing again, eyes, lips, eyes. And you’re praying he’ll finally do something— Sam crashes his lips onto yours. When you didn’t immediately pull away, he tilted his head and deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue out to slide over your bottom lip. 

When he doesn’t get the reaction he wants, he bites your bottom lip but it’s so faint you wouldn’t feel it if your whole body wasn’t invested, which it is, so you comply, pushing your lips apart to give him access. His hands run up your thighs and to your waist, pulling you closer slowly so you don’t crash your teeth together. It’s slow but deep and feverish and needy. 

When he pulls away for a second and shuts his lips closed you shudder, involuntarily chasing his lips before you feel his hands slip under your thighs and he lifts you onto his lap, then moves so he’s in your place with his back against the headboard. 

He doesn’t go back to immediately kissing you, instead pulls back a little further, one hand on your waist, the other coming up to your hair, his eyes taking you in so completely you might as well be naked. “What?”

“You’re gorgeous,” You pout. That’s… sweet. Too sweet. You guys should go back to kissing. So you nod once and try to lean back in, he lets you, indulges you in a kiss. Two, three seconds then he pushes back using the hand that’s holding your head, treading his fingers through your hair. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, ‘s cute, thanks.” He shakes his head, obviously not buying it. “Just… i don’t know, it’s weird hearing it from a guy.”

“That you’re attractive? Are you joking?” You shrug and try to look around for something to do. Is it normal to have full on conversations when you’re trying to make out? “Beautiful.” He says it with a breath, like it’s consuming him “Every part of you.” He whispers that part while his eyes run over your figure up and down. 

“Okay… so kiss me?” He laughs a little and with your hands on his chest you can feel the vibrations distinctly, making you forget your question which allows a gasp to escape when his lips pull yours in. 

You can’t believe you’re kissing Sam. You can’t believe that you’re taller than him in this position. He’s the one pulling you down to get to him. Incredible. Everything about him and this.

He tests the water again before slipping his tongue into your mouth and it causes a more visceral reaction; you pull away suddenly and his eyes instantly snap open. “You okay? Was that too fast?”

No just… weird? Are you supposed to do that for him? Yeah, no way, man. You’re not a prude (kinda), you’ve watched things here and there, a woman has her needs, but this? Kissing? Not the internet’s biggest interest. 

“Sam, you know this is like— you’re my first. Ever.” Oh. Okay. So maybe he didn’t know. His face is suggesting he, infact, did not know. “Like I mean, not, maybe—” You’re making it worse.

“You’re making it worse.” He sighs and his head falls back to slam quietly against the headboard. He looks tired, but takes back his words the second he says them regardless. “‘M sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Just— you should’ve told me. I didn’t know.”

“Well, I thought I’d make it obvious the second the kiss starts, honestly.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed,” he mutters through half-lidded eyes, fingers still playing with your hair. He’s better at not freaking out about your pop-up facts, now. “Was it okay? For your first time?”

You nod quickly, “Yes, the best.” You lean down and press another kiss. It’s unhurried, and just the surface, but still so meaningful it fills your heart beyond belief. “You’re the best— but since we’re on the topic, you know that I’m a virgin too, right?” You add the last part just in case. Just in case.

“Yeah, baby, I know,” He’s probably extra tired if he’s calling you that. He should really stop if he wants you to keep it that way. “Wasn’t gonna do anything tonight, anyways. We’re waiting, right?”

“Do you want to do something tonight?” You’re not sure why you’re asking. You’re not ready. Mentally or physically. He shakes his head anyways and you let out a sigh of relief and practically slump your shoulders. He chuckles and tries to sit up.

“That bad? Then why’d you ask?”

“No not bad, ‘s just that I’m not ready yet.”

“We’re never going to do anything you’re not ready for, you know that. You shouldn’t do anything just ‘cause I want to.” You know that, it’s basically the only staple in your life considering how much of a people-pleaser you used to be back in high school. 

“Okay, yeah.” Your smile is wide despite all the highs and damn lows of today, you ended it on Sam’s lap, making out (on Gen’s bed), how the hell are you supposed to be sad about that? Not happening. But you are concerned for Sam’s health so you slide out of his grip and sit next to him instead. He faces you.

“You’re exhausted, Sam. Go to sleep.” It’s not a demand, but he seems to take it as one because he yawns and slips further into the bed. “In here?” You let out and immediately glue your lips shut.

“You want me to leave?” He’s asking but he’s also getting comfortable at the same time. So you shake your head and make a move to get out of the bed when he starts slightly, a wave of guilt washing over him, so clear on his face. “I’ll go, just give me a minute—”

“I’m just getting the lights, Sam.” You feel him sag with relief and you mirror it out of joy. You get the lights and take a moment to collect yourself then get in the bed next to him, slowly tucking yourself under the covers. You try not to touch him and he doesn’t exactly have time to comment because he’s out in a minute. 

Jess: Like a cheap whore. 

You wish you could text Jess back to shut up and that that isn’t what happened but that’s a lie— it’s exactly how it happened. You left the next morning before Sam woke up, leaving his clothes in a neatly folded pile in his living room. She must’ve checked your location. 

You: How’d you know he’s asleep? 

You text back as you pass another coffee shop on your way home. It’s only a thirty minute walk, good enough for you to think and collect your thoughts before Sam inevitably calls.

Jess: I didn’t but you confirmed it. On your way?

You: Yes.

Jess: Coffee bitch!! Gen wants matcha. 

You shut your phone off after putting your AirPods in. You’ll bring them their coffee and tell them all the details but now you need to think. Collect. Recollect. Organize.

And you will, you are. Because you’re not hiding from Sam, you’re not running away or ignoring him, you need space, like you often do, so you don’t get emotional. That, and waking up next to someone is too intimate for you so maybe a little bit of running.

But you didn’t do it just for him, you wanted to see if you’d be able to do it, be comfortable enough to sleep next to him. And despite the answer being ‘maybe?’, you would do it again. 

“Glucose is converted to glycogen, glycogenesis—” Another yawn. The sixth time in maybe just this hour and you pull your phone out to find something a little more entertaining for just a few minutes. Your brain is going to seriously retaliate if you don’t immediately get a break.

Sam: Hey, how are you?

Sam: Classes?

Your breath hitches as you stare at your Lock Screen, the little messages under his name sending a current through your entire body.  Despite the constant texting these past weeks it feels different now. You kissed. Yesterday. And you left without saying anything.

His text was sent five minutes ago so you suck it up and text right away.

You: Yes, I’m in class right now. Sorry I didn’t wanna wake you up.

Sam: It’s okay, but you should’ve, wanted to say bye.

Oh, that’s sweet. 

Sam: Be careful and text me when you’re done I wanna talk.

You: Okay. I’m done by three.

Nothing bad could possibly come out of this, you’ve already done the biggest part and he told you that he likes you. Straight up just said it and that he wants to make a relationship between you two work. Nothing else bad can come out of that.

Sam: Meet me at the cafe in front of the gate?

He wants to meet up? Now? No way, youre half out of your mind and if someone doesn’t drop you onto a bed at this moment, you will be throwing hands. You barely slept a wink in that bed, no matter how warm and there Sam was next to you, it didn’t calm you down as much as you thought it would. You still got to sleep, just not enough, a few hours considering you kept waking up every hour to check that he’s still asleep and make sure you’re not dreaming.

You: Okay.

The monologue was helpful and very true, but there’s no way you’re rejecting him when you want to talk just as much as he does, if not more.

“—and so it’s back to its normal set point. This is what we call negative feedback mechanism.” 

You might need a tutor, though.

“Hey, mum.” Your heart softens hearing her voice blare through the phone. So much background noise, your siblings, but she’s laughing as she asks how you’ve been. “Great, I’m okay. How are you guys? I know I haven’t been checking in lately, ‘s my fault.”

She asks about your grades and how studying is going and you tell her the truth, you’re a little distracted today but other than that everything’s okay, that earns you a lecture, that you cut short when you see Sam approaching your table. You already ordered a redbull for yourself and since you didn’t know what sam wanted you got water.

“Love you so much more.” You smile and shut your phone off as you stand up to greet him and he hugs you, his cologne penetrating everything at this point. Did he always smell this good because God, how? “I’m sorry I’ve just been tired so I got it— do you wanna order?” 

He shakes his head and you both sit down opposite to each other as you try and drown your drink. He looks like he wants to say something and you’re not sure anymore whether or not this is ‘nothing’ like you tried to convince yourself. 

“How’s school? Do you have classes today?”

“No, no, just a project meet up tonight—” With Lily, probably. He takes his phone out to put down on the table as it rings loudly to show a notification. “But you left, sweetheart. So I wanted to ask you about that.”

“I had class.”

“Your class starts at one, you left way before that.” How’d he know that? “Yesterday, did I make you uncomfortable?” You hate this. Two steps forward, one step back. You kissed, you thought that meant you could do more but you can’t and you have no idea why you lied to yourself.

“No.”

“Then what’s wrong?” You shrug and take another sip. “Yesterday we were tired and it was late so if you did something you regret or if you don’t mean what you said—”

“What? No, I meant it. Why, did you not mean it? You said you’d wait.” It’s moments like these where you regret having the ability to speak. Jumping to conclusions and deciding things for everyone has been your default. You’re a control freak, it’s the least you do. 

“You’re the one who’s not talking!” He says, a little loud and exasperated which forced you to lean back in your seat. “You said you want this to work so you have to open up to me.” He’s making it sound like a school project.

“It’s just how I am, I don’t like airing out every single thought and feeling I have.” And then, because if there’s one thing you know how to do it's setting boundaries, “If you don’t like that, Sam, then just go.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “I want to be here but— okay, so, I’ll recap what happened. Before we slept we said we’d try to take it slow, but that you wanted me. I wanted you.” Wanted? “I want to be with you,” he says strictly, “and then I wake up and you’re back to how you were two days ago. Closed off.”

“I’m not closed off, I tell you everything. I told you I had class, and I was tired so I got a redbull.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” He says with a laugh, a little amused and thankfully, less irritated, “you told me you’re tired? I don’t mean that kind of stuff, baby, I wanna know why you left early. I’m not accusing you of anything, I just want to be there for you. You think about things way too hard and they spin out of control, and I can see it, but I just don’t know where it comes from. You need to clue me in.”

He said ‘baby’ again, and this time he isn’t sleepy. Maybe he deserves a little bit of your thoughts. It isn’t like you’re actively keeping him out, it’s just too much for a lot of people.

“Sam, I don’t mean to be closed off but I think a lot, and it’s just, I don’t know, I guess high maintenance for some people. You don’t need to know every single thing.”

“I’m not saying every single thing about your entire life, but maybe just about us for now?” Maybe time stops, maybe it doesn't, maybe you’re hearts behind it, but when you face him again it’s a different expression than before. He’s frowning at you like the answer means the world to him and you can’t help but feel guilty and enamored by how fucking beautiful he actually is. And he likes you? It’s getting harder to accept by the moment. 

Contrary to popular belief you are not just a control freak. You’re also an over-thinker with self-sabotaging tendencies that could last you three lifetimes, but you just can’t find it in yourself to do anything to hurt Sam. You just can’t. With those jutted lips and sparkling eyes.

Do his eyes always sparkle like that?

His laugh coerces you out of your daydream and— when did he move his chair closer? “Answer me, then we’ll talk about whatever you want.”

Including his eyes?

“Yes.” You should invest in tape if you’re going to start blurting out your thoughts. 

“I wasn’t uncomfortable but I need space sometimes. I get overwhelmed easily and I don’t mean it in a bad way but my mind just organizes things better when I’m alone.” He nods, looks down at your hand on the table and takes it in his, it jolts you and you look up at him. “And— sometimes holding me or just touching me overwhelms me and if I ask you to stop it isn’t because of you.”

“Like now?”

You shake your head quickly, pressing your fingers into his to assure him. “No, not now.”

“Yesterday?” You answer no and he smiles. “So you just needed to think?”

“Yes.”

“And you thought doing all of this was better than just telling me that you needed time to think.” Well, when you put it like that… “Can I kiss you?”

“What?” 

“Can I kiss you?” You should probably think about this logically before you answer— who will see you and stuff, but you’re nodding yes and he’s leaning in faster than your mind can comprehend.

It’s short, and when you pull away, you’re still so close, “so you’re not mad?”

“I’ll never be mad if you tell me how you feel or what you need.” Hell of a promise to keep, Winchester.

“Jess, come on, you know me!” The argument is a futile one, and you’re aware of it.

“I know, and that's why I'm so disappointed. You slept at his house? On my girlfriend's bed?” Right, so maybe you left the important details out like you’re make-out session in the middle of the night and both of you decide to take it slow but ultimately are in a relationship. Speaking of, this means exclusive, right? Fuck, you should’ve asked. 

“That’s— whatever! I didn’t do anything stupid, don’t worry.” Biggest understatement of the century but you just can’t bring yourself to tell her anything yet. Besides, you have exams soon and that seems like a much more important task to focus on.

“Look, babe, I’m not saying I’m angry, but you promised you’d be careful.”

“I was!”

“No you’re not. You get attached easily, and you love way too fast— Sam can control himself! If you two stop talking tomorrow he wouldn’t feel the same way you would.” It fucking burns more than anything in the world to hear it from Jess. Especially from her. Possibly because she knows you best and it would mean that what she’s saying is true, and you’re not ready to face that.

She’s right, though, and you’ve always known it. But it isn’t like that with Sam— it hasn’t been like that since you came to college. Not that Jess was with you before it but you’ve told her almost everything about you, past and present, so her words come from a place of analyzation. And love.

“I’m different now. And he’s different.”

She shrugs, moving closer, a hand on both your shoulders, “I couldn’t care less about Sam,” lie, “but I will not allow anyone to hurt you. Ever.”

And it shouldn’t be that comforting considering she’s only a twenty one year old woman who’s never had a stable job in her life and hasn’t talked to her parents in two years, but it is. It’s the most comfort you've felt the whole week, and you bring her in for a hug because of it.

For all her advice, she’s wrong about one thing. You’re not all-in with Sam. You’re scared, fucking petrified of what this could lead to, but you’re not in high school anymore, your responsibilities aren’t just ‘study and maybe get a top grade’. In uni you can very easily get kicked off— and outside of school, you have to go back home in a month. Unlike your hopeless romantic fourteen-year-old self, you’re aware of your goals. 

And maybe you can’t say it out loud to Jess yet, but you’re proud of yourself for recognizing it within yourself.  part six; baby, don’t get it twisted.

title: love notes by alexa cirri

prompt: person a: ‘come on, you know me!’ person b: ‘I know, and that's why I'm so disappointed.’ from @alphabetquest !!

they finally kissed!!!!! Is this the beginning of their relationship?? I’ve had too much angst for now so I’m thinking next chapter they just cuddle the whole time. comment if you wanna be tagged!

tag list:

@angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats 

@oohjana18294 @user-2538484747490203746579403 @wattpaduser200 @s0urw00lf @ashlynyyyyy

@strabarrybat @anu-piyakya97 @tranquilitybasegrunge

[vktrsnclr]

TEACHER'S PET (R18+)

MINORS GTFO

pairing: miguel o'hara x f reader

summary: you're a college freshman in biochemistry and miguel is your professor in biochemical engineering, a major subject that you're about to fail.

warning: I'm a feminist and I'm concerned.

word count: 1.9k+

contents: humiliation, degradation, age gap, height difference, fingering, oral sex, p in v, hair pulling, public groping.

MASTERLIST

It's your first year in college studying biochemistry, the exam results for the first semester's finals are supposed to be distributed today.

Your professor in biochemical engineering, Mr. O'hara discusses the grading system for the second semester but you're losing out of focus. You're staring at his thick voluptuous thighs, thick veiny hands and imagined how he would choke you with it.

You took a gulp at the thought of it. He then started the distribution of the report cards. Your stare followed him as he sat on the table, individually calling out your names and distributing the cards.

"Parker, good job. Reyes, do better next time. Stacy, impressive. Stark..... dios mio." His voice was hoarse. The way he says your last name followed by a spanish term you don't understand sounded like a moan but truly, a term of disappointment.

"Ms. Stark... Are you seriously daydreaming right now?" He asks with a stern voice.

"Oh um, no sir. W-What is it?" Your classmates tried to hold their laugh, you can hear them giggling.

"Get your ass over here." He orders. You stood and walked up to him, hands behind your back, signing 'fuck you' to all of your classmates.

"What are we gonna do with this?" He points at your grade in bio-engineering which is his subject and a major too. You looked at it by bending your torso down, slightly bowing cause you have an eyesight of a dying man. Your cleavage flashes in front of him unintentionally. He tries to look away and focus your report card.

"2.0 (C/73-76%). This is bad." Everyone in your school knows that you're a daughter of a billionaire genius and this is what you got.

Deep inside, you know that the reason you failed is because you've been partying too hard. Just like your father, you're a party animal.

"What can I do?" You asked worriedly.

"Meet me at my office at 6. Class dismissed." He stood up, towering over you at 6'9 ft. He walked out of the room with your classmates.

Your friend, Gwen Stacy clinged on your arm on the way to the cafeteria. You sat with her and his boyfriend, Peter Parker. You can't really understand what they're saying cause your mind is split between your daddy getting disappointed and your disappointed professor being such a daddy.

Four hours later, it's time to go home but you still have to go to Mr. O'Hara regarding your first semester results. You walked into an empty faculty, the other teachers already went home. You walked by Miguel's office window and saw him looking at his watch with what seems to be an irritated brow. You proceeded to walk inside his office, it's smells good and is neatly organized.

"Good evening Mr. Ohara."

"Miss Stark. You're 10 minutes late. Seems like you're not being very committed to your studies." He clenched his jaw and his pair of brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry I was j-"

"Was just expecting 'daddy' to fix it with his money?" He stood up and mocks, pertaining to your father offering a grant to your school.

"No... sir, I just ran into my friends." You opposed, looking down at the floor.

"Are they gone?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Sit down." He sighs.

In a heartbeat, you sat down in a reclining chair right next to the table. He walks up to you, taking his crotch inches away from your face.

"Good girl." He takes your chin to look up at him. The view made your heart race and your cunt twitch.

"You think I'm not aware of your lustful eyes, hermosa?" He looks directly into your eyes with his hands still on your chin. Your eyes gawks and your face slowly turns red, not knowing what to say.

"Mr- Sir, I uh, I'm here for extra credits." You stuttered.

"Uh huh, what else?" He leans down, not breaking an eye contact.

"Uhhh... um m-my dad can pay you!" You blurted out of nowhere. You didn't know what to say since your mind is occupated by dirty thoughts but now you just seemed like a brat.

"Daddy's money hmm?"

"I'm your daddy here." He whispered roughly onto your ear, his hands shifted from your chin into your neck, gently gripping under your jaws.

"Daddy?" You spoke weakly.

"That's right, bitch." He replied with smirk.

You kind of expected this as a cliché porn category but you had no idea that you're gonna experience this in real life.

"You want credits? You little slut?" He cups the side of your cheeks and leans back to watch your face near his pants again.

"Yes! Yes, I want it." You nodded in agreement.

"Then earn it." He grabs a fistful of your hair and rubs it softly in his black pants with a huge bulge on it. You can smell his essence leaking from the fabric. This is all you ever dreamed of since the first day of school, you didn't think it would happen but it DID. All of your fantasies, clothed in black, sliding across your face.

You unbuttoned his pants in a hurry, dropping his undergarments down then finally busting his dick in front of you.

"Good girl." He slapped your face and you loved it. You proceeded to wet your lips to seduce him. He gripped on your hair tighter as you lick the tip of his 8-inch fat cock.

"Fuck." He groans, his voice deep and hoarse. You licked his length, wetting it together with his pre-cum leaking from the tip then swirled your tongue in its head while jerking him off.

"Holy shit you're good." The corner of his lip curling upwards.

He started throat fucking you, his head thrown back, moaning in pleasure. His cock reached your throat but you continued to take it until your eyes water. Miguel likes the way you look, internally choked by his massive cock.

He drags you up and makes you open your mouth as you spread your tongue that still has his pre-cum.

"Swallow." He ordered and you followed. You showed him an empty tongue to prove it.

"I'm gonna fucking destroy you." He places his hand on your chin to squeeze your face and starts kissing you roughly, like you've taken something from him. This is exactly how you want it. It's wet, sloppy and aggressive.

His kisses trailed down on your neck, you let him take off your clothes, even tear it up. He threw your designer clothes in the air like it was nothing. You would let this man do anything to you.

He began to roam his hands all over your body, from pumping your breasts down to your vagina, already dripping. He circles his middle finger on your clit sensually.

"You want this?" Miguel asks between the kisses.

"Uh huh." Your mouth can't form a proper word but a moan. He slaps you again, wanting you to say it clearly.

"You want this, you whore?!" He dips his hand on your hole, teasing you.

"Yes daddy, do it!" A high pitch pornographic whine came out of your mouth.

He then crooks his head onto your neck, leaving marks as he rams his finger up in your hole, sounds of wet squelching, moans and ass slaps filled the corners of his office. He reaches for the back of your clit inside your tight cunt and it drove you crazy. Your eyes roll at the back of your head. Unlike your other sexual partners, Miguel knows all about human anatomy.

"I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you." He takes your hands from his cock to your back, pulls his belt out of his pants and then ties your wrists.

"Yes please, I've been dreaming of this." You replied while he bends you over on the desk.

"Oh I bet you do you fucking slut." Miguel teases the tip of his cock on your clit, both wet from foreplay.

"Please fuck... fuck me."

Without any reply, Miguel rams his long and fat dick inside you, filling your walls with euphoria.

You groaned in pain after he put his full length in.

"Daddy it hurts."

"Nah, you can take it cariño." He reassures then pins your head on the desk while thrusting deep on your leaking hole.

"You... You've been spending a lot of time with that Parker boy huh? You like him?" He asks curiously, grabbing your hair.

"No, please he's with Gwen." You explained.

"You guys fuckin? Huh?" He ignores your answer while pounding at your pussy, making you scream in pain and pleasure.

"No daddy, Pleaaase.... I only want you. I want youuu." He grabs your tits from the back, holding it for support as his pace goes slower, making it comfortable for you.

"That's my girl. Now I'm gonna make you mine." His last words before sucking the skin off of your neck, leaving love marks that is visible to everyone.

"Ironman's daughter, pumping on my dick with her drenched punani. What's he gonna do? Save you?" He laughs devilishly. At this point you didn't care about your reputation. Your body wants him, even your cunt pulses everytime you peak behind your back to see him using you.

"You're my daddy, please fuckin destroy me." You surrendered. Miguel removes his belt on your wrists and puts it back as he pins it over your head in missionary position. Now, he can see your face while he fucks you, your lips smeared in red lipstick, smiling psychotically. Becoming undone by the stroke of his dick, his hands playing with your nipples and the other holding your wrists.

Your smile made him excited. His thrusts go faster and faster as you scream his name. "Mr. O'hara I'm cumming." You whined. It made him chuckle, you using honorifics despite your pussy currently being destroyed. He bit his lips, carried you by the hips, using you as his fucktoy. He pumps his dick in your tight little hole in a doggy position. Your feet doesn't even touch the floor because of your height difference. You simply just hang in the air with your pussy continously getting pounded.

"Shit shit shit I'm cumming." He whimpers.

"Cum inside daddy." It's the first time you had sex without protection and now you want him to cum inside you.

"That's right, princesa."

He continued plunging his sword into your uterus ramming even harder, seconds later, he busts his load. Your pussy's leaking with his thick cum all the way to your thighs. He lets go of your hips and places you on the table, back arched, pussy flowing.

He puts your panties back without cleaning your pussy, only the sides and the extra cum dripped on your legs and thighs.

"You did great, mija" He kisses your forehead.

"I did?"

"Yes you did." He smiles softly, saying it like he's a proud mentor.

After that encounter, he kept you as his pet, your friends noticed the hickeys on your neck every now and then and your alibi is always getting burnt by the hair curler. Flash Thompson even joked that the hair curler you're talking about is Mr. O'Hara.

Even if you denied it and threatened him with a lawsuit, It's obvious. Your lustful stares in the classroom, the special treatment you get in class above all the other students.

At times when the corridor is empty, he would grope your ass, spank it and squeeze it until you reach the classroom, walking in together at the same time. Your friends would always ignore the same smell coming out of you and Mr. O'hara. Fucking in every empty room, any chance that you get. You've certainly become the teacher's pet.

[zeewritez]

The Sailor and The Samurai - I

Mizu x Femme Shipmate/Pirate Reader

Hi my lovelies! I haven't updated in so long and I'm sorry but college has been kicking my ass. (Why tf am I studying biochemistry - because I hate myself). Anyways, I hope to update my other stories soon (I've had chapters for months now, they just need to be edited lol). So for now, here's a little BES fic because I'm in love with this show :)

(Notes: Reader's father is Irish in the fic but she will not be described physically except for having super long curly hair because I like projecting my hair goals onto stories, also I will be using he/him pronouns for Mizu since they are currently being perceived as a man.)

Part 2 now out

Y/n woke up with a splitting headache from the rum she had the previous night. She made a note to self to not attempt to out drink her father, even if he was pushing 60. Rolling out of her cot, she slipped on a blouse and trousers she had acquired from a crew mate at some point. They barely fit, but it was far better than the dresses and corsets she wore whenever they docked back home.

She walked onto the deck just in time to watch over the vast ocean as they approached the isolated island of Japan. She'd been there many times in her career but had only ever been to the ports to assist with loading goods when the crew needed it. Today, there was no need. Instead, she watched with mild curiosity from the crow's nest as crates were loaded onto The Banshee.

The cargo seemed standard: silks, swords, exotic fish. The things nobles in England dreweld over. Yet the passengers were anything but standard. Y/n could barely believe her eyes when the infamous Abijah Fowler was brought on board with guards on each side of him. He was brought to the detention cell, which would have otherwise been used when her father was tired of a crewmate's drunken antics.

Y/n was so taken aback by Fowler's presence she nearly missed the passenger behind him: a young man, a few years older than y/n herself, clad in Japanese garb and yellow glasses. It seemed odd to her, as it was rather overcast outside but she didn't give it a second thought. What she was truly curious about was why Abijah Fowler was on their vessel.

As the ship took sail, she climbed down from the nest and made her way to the detention cell with a curious, if not mischievous, grin.

"I never thought you'd be joining us for London," she teased as she stood outside of his cel, as though dangling her freedom like a carrot. She did not like Fowler one bit, but she found him almost as amusing as she found him vile. Entertainment was hard to come by at sea, so who could really blame her?

"Well I for one am always happy to see you," he said, grabbing her hand through the bars and kissing her knuckles. She rolled her eyes as she pulled her hand back from him.

"What brings you back to the isle?" she asked. "My father doesn't even enjoy England, and he's still in good standing, legally speaking."

"Perhaps he's a better Irishman then me," Fowler said with a shrug. "What does it matter to you?"

The girl looked up in faux innocence. "Oh, I'm just curious."

"Well, why don't you hunt down the samurai that's on board and he can let you know why I'm going back to London," Fowler finally told her. "You've picked up quite a bit of Japanese, haven't ya?"

"Alright, I'll see you around then," she said as she turned to leave.

"You have your mother's rear!" He shouted out, as though y/n had forgotten why she had disliked the man so much. She said a silent prayer thanking the heavens he wasn't roaming freely as she roamed the ship looking for the mysterious man with glasses, which was simple enough.

He stood on the poop deck, staring out onto the ocean, as anyone who has ever treaded water has. The waters had a way of commanding one's attention.

"Hello good sir," the young woman greeted she climbed the stairs, stopping to curtsey out of habit. She'd managed to have some resemblance of good manners despite being raised at sea by a captain with a drinking habit.

The young man stared at her, which was a common response from many men upon seeing her for the first time, regardless of national origin. In fact, Englishmen seemed most taken aback by her appearance. Her hair was long and unkempt, falling down her back in ringlets instead of being pinned into an updo of a proper lady. Her shirt nearly fell from her shoulders and around her neck was a long, beaded necklace that seemed to trail down between her breasts. Y/n giggled at the man's reaction, having expected nothing less.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he spoke casting his eyes away from her eyes out of embarrassment, then down to her strange necklace, then back up to her eyes.

"Don't worry about it," she said, leaning against the Banshee's railing. "It is lovely to make your acquaintance, may I ask your name?"

"Mizu," he answered, finally less taken aback by the strange woman. "And you are?*

"Y/n," she said, reaching out her hand limply, again out of habit more than anything else. Mizu looked at her with pure confusion, almost fear. Y/n giggled again, this time to hide her embarrassment. "It is expected to kiss a lady's hand where we're going."

Mizu nodded and cautiously took the girl's hand, which was smaller then her own, and cool to the touch from the ocean winds. He kissed it with the gentleness most men she encountered lacked.

"You'll make a proper gentleman," y/n remarked as she retrieved her hand once again and placed it under her head. She scanned Mizu as had her. Admittedly he was rather dashing. So much so she'd forgotten what she was originally there to ask him. Fowler was the last thing on her mind. "What's with the spectacles?" she asked.

"My eyes are unnatural back home," he told her.

"Is that so?" Y/n asked rhetorically. Perhaps without thought for personal space, she leaned forward and took the yellow frames from the man's face. She was greeted with eyes that would put the sea herself to shame. "You needn't wear these anymore, your eyes are beautiful." The young sailor folded the glasses and handed them back to the blue eyed man.

A small smile graced Mizu's face at the first genuine compliment he'd heard in regard to his eyes. He looked over the beautiful yet foreign face of the woman in front of him. The journey to London was certainly something to look forward to now.

[a-curious-studyblr]

19/10/22 - photo from yesterday, e.coli colonies post-plasmid transformation grown over night in the lab