#emphasis mine as always

[alittletoosaintjust]

“There is little evidence for what Saint-Just really thought during the early weeks of the Convention, so there is now no way of knowing whether he hesitated or not between factions, or what factors inclined him to make up his mind. We only know that he chose Robespierre, unequivocally, and for the rest of his life. His choice was all the more striking since, out of the twelve deputies from the Aisne, he was the only one to align himself with the Montagnards.”

- Marisa Linton, The Man of Virtue: The Role of Antiquity in the Political Trajectory of L. A. Saint-Just 

[bookishfeylin]

“Come now, Tamlin,” Rhysand said. “Shouldn’t you reprimand your lackey for speaking to me like that?” “I don’t enforce rank in my court,” Tamlin said. “Still?” Rhysand crossed his arms. “But it’s so entertaining when they grovel. I suppose your father never bothered to show you.” (Chapter 26)

Spot the recton, y'all.

[wrathevil]

You know what I think I've figured it out. Personally do not care what pronouns your Suns uses, but like.. maybe do the same for the others? Where's she/her Pebbles? Where's he/him Moon? NSH everything pronouns? And like, I wanna see at least one she/they suns okay.

[mxtxfanatic]

She had been physically abused so many times. Perhaps she had run away before, but she was hauled back by her hair. She suffered all these for a long time—long enough that the abuses started even before the war. What was Yan Junxun doing before the war? He forgot. But that did not matter. His memory was not worth mentioning. In any case, the murderer endured it for a very long time.

—Chapt. 24: Clarity

What a beautiful piece of foreshadowing!

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

Those overly saturated sepia tone shots in the Faith music video just hits different.👌🏻G O O D   S T U F F👌🏻

[recurringwriter]

throwback to 2020 when i 'prepped' a novel on october 28th

[sollucets]

anyone else Real Particular about their writing documents

[actualtoad]

fun fact about me i have a billie joe poster on my wall and literally nothing else. like i have that and i have a calendar that i don’t use. because my dad got this poster for me for my birthday i think or maybe christmas since im a green day fan. but to be honest i’d definitely prefer like. the american idiot album art of something? i feel very silly having a picture of some guy on my wall even when that some guy is billiards joeseph armstrong it’s still a silly situation. anyway here’s the poster it needs some friends

[tuulikki]

The thing is that the portrayal of Neanderthals as having been inherently grotesque and alien to H. sapiens is something we will never have proof of. But we do have proof that, in different locations and in different populations across time, we all found eachother desirable. We saw eachother and wanted to touch. And the offspring were held by their mothers and raised and had their own offspring in turn.

When you look for the first proof that H. sapiens found Neanderthals repulsive, you have to wait until the Victorian era, when the white masters of empires were busy portraying Neanderthals as stupid, brutish, and (of course) dark-skinned.

In more modern times, we’ve had people arguing that instead of seeing Neanderthals as Benighted Savages, they should instead be seen as Noble Savages, (allegedly) cruelly destroyed and driven from their lands by H. sapiens. Which one of their two you believe says more about your modern political views than it does about ancient H. sapiens.

And, whether we construct Neanderthals as Savage or Noble Savage, the fundamental assumption we project into the unfathomably distant past is still that H. sapiens saw Neanderthals as an Other, with the language we use being almost explicitly that of modern racial dynamics.

But we have no proof of any of that. We have no proof of hostilities. We know we co-existed and we had sex. That’s it.

Humans obviously have sex with some humans and kill others. We also know that, when small groups of humans occupy vast spaces with infrequent contact with others, unique cultures will always form, some more hospitable, some more neophobic/xenophobic. But many cultures of small settlements placed among huge unpeopled landscapes place supreme emphasis on hospitality to strangers. Plus, we fucking love other social animals, as evidenced by how we befriended wolves.

I’m a humourless weirdo and a wet blanket about popular constructions of Neanderthals as “monstrous”, and I freely admit it. But that’s because it’s tied up in legacies of imperialism. Not only that, but it also privileges one culture (yours, mine, modernity’s) as being most human by implicitly assuming we can project it onto people in the past. Since you don’t pretend that all global cultures share exact same values as you do, it doesn’t take more than a few moments’ reflection to realise you can’t do that to the past.

[wickershells]

So I primarily use the NRSV(ue) translation when reading the Bible, which I know is among the most academically-accepted translations, but sometimes it gets me. Take John 17:5 — “So now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had in your presence before the world existed.” ???? Perhaps more accurate linguistically and/or theologically (can’t say for sure) but poetically, metrically, doesn’t hit nearly the same as the NLT: “Now, Father, bring me into the glory we shared before the world began.” The former still retains its beautiful sentiment (contextually, Jesus says it in Gethsemane), but the latter is one of my all-time favourite verses; important, I think, in understanding biblical influence on literature and art, its tether to timelessness. Among other iniquitous and despicable means

[joyridingmp3]

just got back from my mums. we talked about my grandfather (her dad) for ages & it was cool to learn a bit more about him but it's only left me wanting to learn more. did he have a favourite instrument to play? what did his voice sound like? what was his original music about? what got him interested in perusing music? he had a complicated relationship with his mother also - was it in a similar way to mine? what did he think of my father? what did he hope for the future of his children & grandchildren? what did he think of me? how did he learn to speak like 5 languages? what was the most valuable lesson he learnt over the course of his life? what advice would he give to me and my siblings? he used to play live with his band most weekends i wonder what that was like. what was his favourite song?

[emmyrosee]

“Do I have a cute butt?”

“Excuse me?” Osamu asks at your question, popping an eye open as he chuckles. You giggle at your matched silliness, gently patting his chest.

“You know.... like, is my butt cute?” You ask again, traveling your eyes to look. Your leg is hooked over his waist, his large hand running along your thigh sweetly.

Osamu sighs sleepily, “is this one of those scenarios where if I answer, you’ll hit me?”

You giggle at him, “depends on your answer.”

“Then I think you have, single handedly, the cutest butt in the world, sweet love.” His large hand travels down and gives your ass a gentle pat, almost like you were a baby.

Well, you are his baby, as he always assures.

Your heart flutters wildly at his words, they always have an effect on you, and you can’t help but nuzzle into his chest further to hide your face.

“Awww,” he teases. “Did I make my angel girl all shy?”

“Shut up,” you mutter, shoving him lightly. He chuckles lowly before shoving his hand under your hip and pushing you up, guiding you to straddle his waist. He gently caresses your sides and thighs, dopey, loving smile on his pink lips.

“I think every part of you is the cutest, my love,” Osamu whispers, making you roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah?” You challenge. “Like what?” He raises his own brows, “everything.” He gently takes your hand in his, “I love these small, sexy hands of yours.” He plants a kiss to each of your fingers before closing them, placing a final kiss to your knuckles. You bite your lip, brushing the fallen locks of hair out of his eyes.

“They’re not small,” you protest. “Yours are just massive.”

“Either way,” he continues. “I love these hips, and these legs that everyone stares at when you wear shorts,” he gently digs his fingers in your thighs slightly, leaving lightened prints before transforming back to your original skin tone.

You avert his gaze, “they stare because my hips come up to your thighs. Tall freak.”

“They stare because you’re hot,” he says, putting extra emphasis on the ‘T’ and grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “They stare because somehow, your stunning ass got stuck with me."

“I love being stuck with you!"

“I love it too,” he assures, smiling as you laugh. “That’s another thing,” he says. “That sweet laugh of yours.”

“Oh, you mean the dolphin mating call?” You scoff, crossing your arms.

Osamu shakes his head, “no, you brat. I’m talking about your laugh. Your sweet giggles. Your scoffs. The way it goes silent when you laugh really hard. It the fucking best.”

“No it’s not,” you groan. “You’re the only person on planet earth who could find a walrus being assaulted with a crowbar cute.”

“There’s nothing wrong with finding your little giggles endearing.”

“Yeah, right.”

“But you know what I love most about you?” He asks, cupping your ass and hips in his massive hands.

You quirk your brow, “what’s that, oh Prince Charming of mine.”

“My absolute biggest weakness about you, dollface, is...” he squeezed harder. “Messing with you.”

You can barely process what he said before he bucks his hips up against you, bouncing you up and down. You scream out in laughter, planting your hands to his chest. His own laughter mixes with yours, his thighs continuing to bounce you like you’re a rider on a horse.

“Okay, okay!” You manage between giggles. “I get it!”

“Don’t,” bounce “think,” bounce “you,” bounce “do.” He grins as he stops bouncing, sitting up to wrap his arms around you, pulling you flush to his chest as you both flop back down.

“You’re so bad,” you giggle, running your hands over his chest. Osamu chuckles, planting a kiss to your head.

“What can I say,” he sighs dreamily. “I'm a man of poetic genius.”

"If that's what you want to call it."

Immediately, hands dart under your arms to tickle you viciously, smirking as you shriek and clamp your hands to your sides and laughter pours out of your lips.

It truly was his favorite sound.

[doromoni]

Lunch Preferences | LN4

Ships: Lando Norris x Personal Chef! Reader , Platonic! Oscar Piastri x Personal Chef! Reader

Warnings : None

Genre: fluff

Summary : Oscar’s food always tasted better and Lando finds out why.

Part 2

Lando was never adventurous when it came to certain things , most importantly when it came to the food that he consumed — His best friend Max could vouch on that , heck the entire grid and the whole McLaren hospitality can say it.

When it came down to it , when Lando didn’t like the ingredient used in the meal served in the Motorhome cafeteria, a special meal is always prepared for the Golden Boy of Mclaren. Most find it funny but the kitchen staff found it extremely annoying; to them Lando was a diva.

Kitchen personnel and caterers are shuffled within motorhomes and during races in different countries and it became problematic for Mclaren due to the new personnel’s lack of knowledge of their driver’s preferences. Funnily enough, this has become an issue much so that a protocol has been made stating that when a new driver is signed they are given their own personal chef that tours around with them during the races.

Cut to Oscar Piastri joining the Papaya Family , and Y/n L/n had been added to the roster. The Australian driver and Y/n had met during Oscar’s F2 season and had quickly formed a bond , by bond meaning Y/N fuels Oscar’s obsession with sweets. The aussie became obsessed so much that when the “personal chef” clause came up in his contract, his immediate answer was “ Y/N L/N”.

“Osc what the hell, What do you mean you got me a job at Mclaren? Are you high on sugar again?” You asked in disbelief as you stared at the Australian , an eyebrow raised.

You and Oscar are currently in his kitchen in his apartment in the UK, you trying to bake your f2 paddock famous cookies while Oscar tries to help , emphasis on tries.

“Oh come on Y/N! You’re perfect for this. You know my likes and dislikes . Plus you know how to trick me into eating my veggies” Oscar said exasperatingly.

“ Oscar as much as I love to feed you , you know that I cant travel with you, I have a job remember? Plus Im not a professional chef , you dummy! I just cook as a passion” You muttered softly trying to get your point across.

“Then quit! I know you hate your job y/n. This is your chance! I made sure that they’ll pay you handsomely ~ more than your current pay . I swear! PLUS you get to travel with me and you get to explore food all over the world” The boy did made a whole lot of sense…

“Fine , let me see the contract” Then an enormous grin plasters itself on his face.

***

* Brownies

“Holy Crap , Mate! These brownies are killer! Where did you get these?” Logan exclaimed as he continued to stuff his face with Oscar’s snacks prepared by Y/N of course.

“My chef made them for ME , Logan. Hands off “ Oscar swatted the American’s hand as he tried to get another piece.

“What are you two idiots up-to now? “ Alex spoke as he came near the duo, Lando right on his tail.

“Oscar brought these amazing brownies and He wont share ! Come on , mate just one more” Logan once again tried to reach for the bag only to be denied once again.

“Ohhh, let me try some of that!” Alex laid out his hand , and Logan complaining in the background saying “unfair “ as Oscar gave Alex one.

“You weren’t kidding! these are good. Lando try one” Alex gestured towards Lando.

Lando looking a bit apprehensive, took the offered treat and took a bite. As the Brit chewed , he couldn’t stop eating till there was no more. Screw belgian chocolate, that brownie was his favorite food now.

“Osc , give me another.” Lando requested to his now younger teammate.

“Nope~ these are mine” Oscar grinned teasingly as he stood up , away from the reach of his fellow drivers

“Oscarrrr , give em up you muppet!” Lando whined and pouted .

“No! Ask your chef to make you one. “ oscar implored.

“But the ones they make aren’t as good as thoseee” Lando continued to whine

“I know, these is Y/N’s special recipe. “ Oscar replied mockingly, a playful grin on his face as we waved them goodbye.

“Damn, Y/N made those? No wonder they tasted amazing” Logan muttered catching the attention of Lando.

“Y/N? Who?” Lando asked , now curious .

“Oh, Y/N is our friend , well now Oscar personal chef also. We met when Oscar and I were racing in F2. She used to bring us her cooking after the race.”

“Damn, did she put cocaine on those brownies or something?” Alex said wanting another bite.

“Did you say that she’s Oscar’s chef? That would mean that she’s in Mclaren right now?” Lando asked yet again to the now bemused American.

“Yes?” And with that Lando Norris is on a mission. Find the lady who makes extremely delicious brownies.

“Y/N” Lando muttered your name under his breath as he traversed towards his own motorhome with a purpose.

Finally reaching his destination only to be bombarded by his Pr manager pulling him along towards his media duties

Lando’s brownie mission was a fail

“Hey, do you know who’s Y/N?”

* Wok fried noodles

“ Ok so , Oscar will be done in a few minutes then it will be your turn” Lando’s manager , Valerie, explained as He was getting ready for the interview set up by Mclaren for a special edition for a motorsport magazine of some sorts.

“You should take a bite of your lunch , Lan. I don’t think you’ll be getting time to do so later” valerie explained, as she nudged the now cold , barely touched container of food towards the British driver.

“But there fish in it ,Val” The brit frowned as he glanced on his supposed to be lunch. How many times did he have to say NO FISH.

“It’s not even touching th-“ valerie tried to explain but was cut of by Lando as he exclaimed

“But it’s near a fish!” To which Valerie could only sigh and nod.

Then a knock and an opening of a door happened along with Oscar popping his head in — who appears to be carrying chopsticks and a container of sorts.

“ Hey, mate! They said it’ll be your turn in 15 mins or so” Oscar said as he scoops his lunch into his mouth.

“What ya eating there bud?” Lando couldn’t help ask as the savory aroma filled his room and a rumble came to his stomach.

“Some low carb noodle dish Y/N made , not really sure what’s it called . Tasted great tho.” The Australian said .

“Lemme have a bite” Lando waved his hands towards Oscar . With a shrug , oscar did.

As He took a bite , Lando could only think of one thing.

“Where could I get myself a Y/N”

* Spring Rolls

Practice 1 had just finished and the drivers have an hour or 2 to rest and kill time . And for our youngest Aussie driver on the grid it is time to annoy his lovely friend Y/N.

“ Hey, Y/N… could you please make extra servings of what ever you’re making for my lunch?” Oscar asked sheepishly

“Osc, No! You have to follow a strict calorie count and your trainer will kill me!” You said as you stoped what you were doing .

“It’s not for me, Its for Lando! He always eats my food “ Oscar explains and you understood clearly. Nodding with a smile , you shooed Oscar away.

“Thanks , Angel! “ Oscar left but not before leaving a kiss on your head.

You then set out to make lunch for 2 drivers, and finishing by packing them separately . You never forgot to leave a message on Oscar’s meals as encouragements to your closest friend

Your eyes go towards the food intended for Lando. You were contemplating whether you should write something or not. Biting your lip you took another piece of post it and started writing.

Maybe this is your chance to get the driver’s attention and shoot your shot. You have been crushing on the British driver for who knows how long. Tutting yourself you shake your head from your thoughts and delusions.

In the post it wrote ,

Dear, Lando

A little birdie told me that you liked my cooking , ey? Oh! I heard that you liked spring rolls so I made you a few. No fish , I promise. Hope you enjoy! And good luck on the race! I’ll be cheering on the sidelines 🧡

P.S. thank Osc , he begged me to tag you along :P

— Y/N

***

Butterflies filled Lando’s stomach as he opened the lunch box you made for him. You cooking for him and writing a note felt so domestic , like a wife and husband.Lando became a giggly mess as he re-read your note again and again.

He remembered the time when he first saw you. You were with Oscar in the Mclaren motorhome , sitting on the lounge when your eyes met his and you gave Lando a smile — it was only passing but to Lando it was enough. To him you were so angelic .He imagined coming home to you and you would cook for him and all seemed fine in the world.

“ you know , you should just ask her out on a date” and suddenly Lando was startled out of his daydreaming

“Huh , what? Dreaming? Who was? “ Lando tried to act cool in front of Oscar who was now sniggering as he leaned on the doorframe.

“ I know that you like Y/N, Lando! Just ask the girl already “

“Who’s Y/N?” Oscar rolled his eyes at his teammate

“You’re both idiots .y’know? You both have goggly eyes for each other — it honestly hurts to see. Here’s her number . Please just go out. Or I swear I’ll lock the two of you in a room or something. “ Lando was flabbergasted by his teammate who was now exiting the room.

“Uhh… Thanks Osc!” The Brit broke out into a huge smile as he shouted towards the australian

“Yeah yeah , just don’t hurt her or I promise to crash into you in every race”

***

[molsno]

Another hallmark of "just asking questions" coverage of detransition is a tendency to focus on individuals who were assigned female at birth. Similarly, proponents of "ROGD/social contagion" often claim that the supposed condition disproportionately impacts "young girls," especially those with autism or mental health issues, although the statistics and rationales they cite in support of such claims are deeply flawed. This emphasis on "girls" and "mental illness" appears to purposely play into traditionally sexist and ableist presumptions that these groups are inherently fragile, susceptible to persuasion, and incapable of making informed decisions about their own bodies and lives. After all, the "cisgender people turned transgender" trope is most effective when its imagined "victims" are constructed as "innocent" and "vulnerable." Perhaps the most illustrative example of this tactic can be found in Abigail Shrier's 2020 book, Irreversible Damage: The Transgender Craze Seducing Our Daughters. The book is focused squarely on protecting "our girls" from "ROGD/social contagion," relying heavily on the aforementioned traditionally sexist and ableist sentiments. Trans female/feminine people are largely absent from the book, with the exception of one chapter (featuring interviews with Ray Blanchard and J. Michael Bailey) that depicts us as sexually obsessed "autogynephiles." Given that chapter, in concert with the book's provocative subtitle, readers may be left with the impression that it's trans female/feminine people who are responsible for this "transgender craze seducing our daughters" (emphasis mine; other anti-trans activists have argued this more explicitly). While Shrier's book never mentions "grooming," its subtext conveys deep connections between "social contagion," the "cisgender people turned transgender" trope, and imagined sexual predation.

—Julia Serano, Whipping Girl (3rd Edition), p 380-381

this passage illustrates so clearly how even the transphobia aimed specifically at afab trans people nearly always comes with the quiet implication that there are more nefarious forces behind it. in misgendering trans people who were afab, reducing them to helpless and sympathetic victims, shrier still manages to evoke the image of the transfeminine sexual predator "grooming" these victims into identifying as transgender. she never makes this connection explicitly, but the subtext of the work leaves the reader to draw that as the only obvious conclusion. when trans women name transmisogyny as the basis for many other forms of gendered oppression, this is what we mean.

[lymtw]

Suggestive

Gojo x f!reader

Description:

Gojo being the frustrating man that he can be, constantly pushing your buttons. In the end, he really just wants to be around you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Gojo just being mad annoying, trapping you against the wall when you’re frenzied over everything that needs to get done within the last 4 hours of your day. He has both hands on either side of your head, against the wall.

“‘Toru,” you say, hoping he’ll find the sign for him to move in your tone.

He doesn’t. Instead he just tilts his head, and mumbles a little “hm?”

“Please move.”

“Move me. I won’t put any effort to trying to stay grounded. All you have to do is push-“

You shove your palm into his ribs, not too hard, but enough for him to react quickly in order to stay in front of you.

“You said you weren’t gonna try.”

“I wasn’t ready. Now you can push me.”

It’s harder to move him this time. You know he’s putting some effort into staying in place.

You sigh, not yet defeated, but a tad bit frustrated. “Why are you doing this? It’s the one day out of the whole week that I choose to organize the house and you’re making it difficult. You know Thursday is a cleaning day.”

“I’m not doing anything. Like I said, you can push me aside.” He grins like the menace he is. His response makes your heart race in your frustrated state.

You don’t move, instead begin to stare past him in protest of the attention he’s feeding off of. So he steps closer, his abdomen against yours. Your hands fly up to his chest, maintaining the smallest amount of distance. He looks down at you, this wanting look in his eyes.

“No, no, no. Stop. Save those eyes for the chocolate bar that’s in the freezer.”

“Baby…” he coos.

Ah shit. You mentally curse yourself for how weak you get when he uses that tone with you.

“Satoru, don’t.”

“Baby, just come with me.” His mouth lowers down to your neck, where he places featherlight kisses. He goes up the side of your neck until he reaches your ear where he whispers things to you. Things that make your heart race, and the space between your thighs grow needy. “I miss the sound of your voice.”

You’re breaking. You shake your head in denial, and he lets out a chuckle through his nose.

“I miss your pretty skin against mine.” His hands snake beneath your shirt and settle on your waist. “It’s always good. You know it. I know it.”

The way his voice went down an entire octave to say that flustered you. You started giggling nervously.

“I know I’m tempting you. Just let me put the stars in your eyes again, mama. You’ve done enough cleaning.” His thumbs leave a ticklish feeling behind where they press on your sides.

“You’re killing me.”

“I want you to come with me.” There was an emphasis on the word ‘come’—something he didn’t think you would catch.

“S-Stop. I need to… fold…”

“Yeah, looks like you’re folding already.” He grabs your hand. “It’s okay, princess. Let me help you decompress.”

“But-”

“Ah.”

“I-”

“Mm-mm.”

He won. You let him take you to the room, and he made you forget all about that basket of clothes you needed to fold.

[futureplayboibunnie]

Aphrodesiacs Pt. 9

Miguel O’Hara x fem!spidey reader 

You and Miguel O’Hara were bitten by the same spider…what could possibly happen?

horny and angsty? yes pls.

NSFW. 18+.

Miguel wasn't lying

He didn't let you leave your apartment for the entire weekend.

You definitely weren't complaining but he wore you out tirelessly for hours on end. He fucked you on every surface, christening each space for his own personal fulfiliment. He bent you over, pressed your knees together, threw you to the floor, sank to his knees- he did everything.

"Tell me you're mine. Scream it for me.”

“Always. I always have been.”

The way you said that stuck with Miguel a lot longer than he was expecting or comfortable with, it rolled off of your sweet tongue with an unbridled ease, like you were meant to say it.

“I always have been.” Miguel frowned as his brain placed further emphasis on what you said.

It started on Friday night and now it's Sunday night, he was half expecting you to kick him out but he was still here...lying in bed with you after an entire weekend of fucking each other senseless. It was the most soul-replenishing and fulfilling weekend he'd ever had. The night was starless, grey, and bleak clouds hung over the sky as if to reflect his mood, straying by the second, the rain flooded and pounded against the curtainless window and his senses. As he glanced over your frame, he saw the New York city skyline bean up yellow and red lights. The rumbling of thunder and the flashes of lightning stopped his thoughts in their tracks as he felt the soft inhale of your breath. Your naked body pressed into the mattress, the white sheets covering you in slivers.

Even when you were sleeping you looked so effortlessly beautiful. Miguel glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table, it was 2 AM. It was Monday tomorrow. That's when reality set in. His work, the pressure of his job, to control that many people and make sure the multiverse was safe. Miguel frowned at the thought. He wanted to spend the rest of his nights here with you, lying in bed with you and watching you breathe. But he loves being Spiderman, he was attached to what he had to do even if he didn't like it, he was so conditioned to doing his job he never once considered what a normal life could be like after what Gabriella- then you came along, destroying any semblance of peace he had left. You mumbled something unintelligible as you sprawled out even further. Your slender hands slid under the pillow, he kept staring at you like a lovesick fool, filled to the brim with anxiety and desperation as he quietly brooded. He felt like you caught him when he saw your eyelashes flutter. A lazy smile played on your lips. You definitely caught him.

“Go to sleep.” You muttered like you were scolding a small child, opening your eyes fully to see Miguel solemn and brooding.

“Can't.” He clipped, raking a hand through his already messy hair. Your mood changed exactly as he did, you flashed him a concerned look. Miguel always found a way to sabotage himself, to find the bad in every spot he was in and you were tired of it. You leaned down on your elbows, pursing your lips in confusion.

“Talk to me.” You say gently but all Miguel could hear was a sensual deity whispering sweet nothing.

Miguel was conflicted, a surge of sadness washed over and tightened his chest but he was very determined not to show it, his eyebrows creased in determination. Trying hard to keep the front he's manufactured over the course of many brutal and unforgiving years, being cold and distant was the only thing he knew to be even if it was you that was trying to pry it out of him. He couldn't just change overnight, not for you, not for anyone but part of him wanted to be better, to be better for you. Miguel's jaw ticked as he mumbled, attempting to conceal the fact that he wasn't particularly in a talkative mood- but you were nothing but persistent.

“Please?” Your hand went to reach out and lay on his chest but he stopped you before you could even touch him, he gripped your wrist and stared at you, his demeanor drastically changing. His grip was tightening and your eyes widened slightly, confused and concerned.

“Don't.” He said softly but stern enough that you got the message, his eyes were gleaming with a faint hue of red. You cocked an eyebrow at his behavior, after an unforgettable weekend, he was acting like you were a stranger- like all your use to him was sex, He was going to treat you like crap when you got to your normal life again. You frowned at the thought as you snatched your wrist back.

“What happens now?” You whisper woefully, a sad look ashening your beautiful face- the moonlight kissed your features perfectly.

"We go back to strangers, hating each other?” You say bitterly.

“What? No.” He shot you a look mixed with confusion and anger as if what you said was stupid.

“So we don't hate each other anymore, we fucked and we're gonna go back to work and act like nothing happened?”

“'I just- I don't know.” His answer didn't dampen your straying frustration at him, you pursed your lips in anger. mere idea.

“This was a one-time thing? So I'm just gonna go back to fucking other guys?” You raised an eyebrow at him, slightly peeved at the idea.

Miguel was internally devastated that you even thought to mention that, his body stilled with rage at the image of someone else touching you the way he did. It was as if his heart was being strangled by your bare aching fists. He wanted to grab you, flip you over and fuck you until his hips fracture but instead, he stayed brooding in silence, a storm brewing in his head.

Miguel's hand shot out and grabbed your cheeks, squishing them together as his talons dug into your skin slightly, you gave him an unimpressed look as he pulled your body closer to his. “No.” He said harshly, completely dismissing the idea of you going out and hooking up with other people like he had that sort of power over you. “Absolutely not.” Although you were pissed at him right now, your body was feeling entirely different, your pussy throbbed. You adjusted yourself, trying to stifle your arousal but it got ten times worse when your nipples brushed and hardened at the slightest contact of the mattress. Miguel was psychoanalyzing your every move, his gaze didn't soften at all, He liked that you were still in heat, even more so when you were trying to suppress it. You were confused when you saw him get up from the bed and then sit at the foot of it, his back facing you, looking more and more pissed with every passing moment.

"Come here.” he turned his head a fraction, enough for you to see slivers of red in his eye.

"Are you kidding?” You scoffed.

“Do I look like I'm asking?” His voice was mean and cold, a ruthless sharp vibration in your ears. Your body ached at the sound of his voice alone.

You were still bitter as you crossed your arms defensively. You rolled your eyes at him and decided to give into his unexplained whims, you got out of the bed with a huff and walked around it, Your naked body gleamed in the moonlight as you stood in front of him, Miguel's eyes were steely and din, unamused by your constant disrespect, asking the questions he didn't want to think about let alone answer, He hated that you brought up the idea of fucking other people and he hated the way he felt about it. This weekend was pleasure and pain combined- he made you feel euphoric, keeping you at that edge and then pummelling you. It was pain but it was perfect pain. Now you were pissing him off and he wasn't in the mood to be delicate and easy. He wouldn't give you the courtesy of telling you what he was going to do to you, he just wanted to do it.

You bit your lip as you stared down at him, he looked up at you like you were a dirty little whore acting unattainable- how ironic.

Miguel's palms traced over the dip of your waist softly and you pursed your lips slightly, acting unbothered. He hated it. we wanted to shock you, his right hand spanked your ass harshly, the sound ripped through the air and you gasped. You were his helpless little whore. Instead of talking about his feelings, he was gonna fuck it out of himself instead.

“Turn around and sit on my lap.” He demanded coldly, the look in his eyes was one of silent fury, His face sere slashes of rough arousal and boiling anger, Your eyes went from half-lidded annoyance to a bewildered shock, he liked it. you unhinged your jaw to say a smartass remark but he raised his eyebrow and that subdued you immediately, you turned your back to him and sat on his lap.

Your back facing his front, your ass nudging his already hard cock. Before you could even properly adjust, he hooked his hands under your thighs and pulled them up, your legs dangling off of his arms. a breathy moan escaped from your throat and Miguel's lips were pressed against your ear.

“I'm going to fuck you like this and you're gonna shut up and not bitch to me, understand cariño?” His hot breath landed on your ear, goosebumps rising at the shell of it. You hung your head back and it landed on his broad shoulder, moaning already.

“Yes, I understand.” You breathed softly. Miguel lowered your down on his cock, plunging into you and stretching you out until the his fangs licked and bit at your shoulder blade. “Ah- M-Mig-“ He pummelled into you roughly, bouncing you up and down as his fangs bit your shoulder blade.

“Run that fuckin mouth again, mention any other guy you fucked and I'll bully your cunt until you're fuckin sobbing, get the picture?” He groans raggedly, biting into your shoulder, specks of blood seeping out of your skin as he bounces you up and down.

“O-Okay! I get it...” You stuttered out, moaning like a bitch in heat as he plowed into you even harder, your slick running down your thighs. Your hands flew back and tangled in Miguel's hair, pulling hard and rubbing his neck.

“You're clenching so hard querida...my horny little bunny g'na make a mess on my cock over and over and over again.” He mumbled drunkenly in your ear, the sound of wet skin slapping against skin echoed throughout the room. His words shot straight to your aching pussy, sweat dripping down the valley of your tits as Miguel kept manhandling you like a little fuckdoll. The tightening coil in your lower gut snapped as you came, dripping all down his cock and thighs. Throughout this past weekend, Maguel had taken you in any which way but he was way more harsh and pissed this time around. You withstood it all happily. As you clamped down harder Miguel's grip had gotten tighter, bouncing you up and down harder. with that one final thrust and clamp, it didn't take long for him to finish, his hot cum spilling out of you. His groans were your favorite kind of music, it echoed through the chasms of his throat.

But Miguel didn't stop, he kept bouncing you up and down, overstimulating you and fucking you through your Earth-shattering orgasm.

“Miguel- It's spilling out.” You warn meekly but your voice gets lost.

“I don't care. I'll be done with you when I want to be done with you. Now shut up and take it.” He grits between clenched teeth, his jaw setting in anger. He kept going and going, stretching you out, hitting that spot he'd hit so many times in the past two days, spot you never even knew existed before him. You milked him dry and he stilled, sparks lighting under your skin.

Miguel's grip on you softened, letting go of your legs, your feet now settling on the ground, his dick still plugged in you. Both of you were softly panting, your breaths mingling as you leaned your head back on his shoulder, mouth slack and lazy. Both of you were still full of conflicting emotions, but it still wasn't properly released. The passion clouded both of you and it made you feel hazy enough to forget about it during the collision of your bodies, but after as you got a chance to breathe- the thoughts and feelings came back up again. Your hair was wild and messy, your body limp in his arms. Miguel wrapped his arms around your waist as you nested between his legs, he softly kissed the shell of your ear but you weren't buying what he was selling. This sudden act of soft affection after he quite literally fucked you full of anger and pent-up frustration- there was something he wasn't telling you but you were afraid to find out.

An embittered look carved onto your face, and that's when you stood up and got off of him, Miguel raised an eyebrow at what you were doing. Your naked body shimmered as the pale moonlight outside lit you up, you were acting unbothered again and he really fucking hated it. “What are you thinking?” He murmured with restraint, leaning back on his hands.

"Gonna take a shower.” you said softly, but your tone was almost as if you were talking to an acquaintance, not a man you gave your entire body to.

You went into the bathroom of your room, turning the light on and then the shower. Miguel watched you intently as you moved swiftly, closing the door- like you were locking him out. A frown settled on his face. He heard you step into the shower, a faint smell of citrus shampoo traveling through the cracks. Miguel sat with himself for a few minutes and decided that he didn't want to stay here alone. Miguel stood up and opened the bathroom door, steam flowing into the bedroom and circulating at the tips of the ceiling.

The glass casing of the shower made for a perfect view of your slick and wet body. Your hands were doing their work shampooing your hair, your ass looked even more perfect. The soap flowed out of your hair with ease, your fingers squeezing out the excess. you heard a slight shift that made you whip your head around, it was Miguel. “Can I join you?” he says uncharacteristically gently.

“Sure.” You said with a lazy smile. He was pleased that you let him get close to you, he loved being near you any way he could, watching you like a lovesick fool. You looked so natural, so pretty.

Miguel slid open the glass door and stood next to you in the shower, in your element, and for a strange reason Miguel wanted to take care of you. You flashed him a bashful look, throwing your head as a signal for him to get under the stream, he did, letting the water flow to all corners of his body, strands of hair stuck to his forehead, he raked a hand through his hair to slick it back. You were gawking at Miguel, seeing how his muscles tensed under the shower, the water flowing down his abs effortlessly. You blinked up at him dumbly and Miguel caught onto It.

“Mind if I-?” Miguel was acting like a horny teenager, even though he's literally fucked you sideways, in an intimate setting like this- he was nervous. He squeezed some shampoo into his palm and rubbed his hands together, lathering it. You nodded softly, turning your back on him, you were still quite far away though. He didn't like that, Miguel pulled your hair back so you could stumble back a few steps, your ass making contact with his cock. Miguel didn't even let you be surprised about it when he started massaging your scalp. It buzzed your body alive, you hummed appreciatively as his big hands raked through your hair.

“Mmmm...I didn't think you'd ever be domestic.” you say with a raised eyebrow, looking slightly defensive and miguel just huffed.

“I'm not..” His tone was clippy and you didn't like it.

"Yeah..”

You shrug him off and go under the stream, twisting your hair so the soap suds and water drain out of it, you didn't give his the privilege of eye contact. You couldn't deny that you were a little sad that once morning rolled around, he would leave and you would go back to working at HQ, ignoring each other.

-

next chapter is gonna be the last!

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