#squirrel yoga | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

astroboots · 10 months

Text

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #9

COLLABORATED WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You get a new mysterious co-worker.

Word count: 8,100

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

August 1st

Nearly pancaked by grand piano falling from the 8th floor outside of favorite cafe. No casualties (except the piano).

August 5th

Freak blizzard out of nowhere during lunch. Nearly crushed by large icicle dropping directly outside the exit of the Chrysler building. No other known casualty.

August 6th

An escaped hippopotamus from the Bronx zoo ran 11.3 miles, nearly got stampeded when exiting hotel for work. No casualties.

August 12th

Tornado appeared inside the Guggenheim museum, nearly squashed by large falling statue. Nobody nearby was seriously injured.

It's already mid-August now. You've used up more than a month of your allotted three. It means you don't have much more time to waste, but that knowledge does nothing to help you in figuring things out.

You’ve compiled a comprehensive list of the Universe's ongoing murder attempts, determined to keep track of them all. All in all, there are 37 incidents and counting that you’re aware of… and they’re all different.

They differ in severity. They differ in scale and they differ in frequency. Sometimes it can take weeks, sometimes days, sometimes within hours of each other. If there’s any sort of pattern to them—anything that might help you predict what will happen next or how to stop it—you can’t see it. There’s nothing that gives you any hint or clue as to where you can start to make progress with solving this mystery.

The one thing you have been able to observe from cataloging these incidents is that Miguel was right about what he told you that day at Starbucks: the universe is ramping up. Each attempt is becoming more and more bizarre, defying the very laws of physics and nature in its attempts to snuff you out. Before this, in all of your years in New York, you’ve never heard of a blizzard in July or a tornado indoors.

With the escalating dangers, Miguel is more on guard than ever. Sticking close to you at all times like a particularly insistent herding dog that’s always a few inches from nipping at your heels. Even when he’s seemingly preoccupied by something else—reading a book, folding clothes, eating a crate of kit kats in one sitting—you can always tell that he’s keenly aware of and attuned to your every minute move.

Practically, the only time he lets you out of his sight is for bathroom visits.

Work is still a point of contention between you two. He hates that he can't enter the building to monitor you at work and make sure you're safe, and after that incident when you caught a co-worker trying to take a surreptitious selfie with Spiderman while Miguel was loitering around in the windows, you’d banned him from climbing and scuttering around the exterior of the building like some deranged squirrel.

It’s made him even less pleased about your whole work situation, something he’s not shy about sharing with you. Every morning when you are about to leave for work, Miguel will stand by the door with that ever present frown and ask you:

“Why are you still going into a job you hate when there’s only two months left?”

This morning, you sigh as you reach for your jacket and messenger bag.

Part of you completely understands and even agrees with his logic. If the end of the world is only two months away, why go back to that shithole everyday? You could go to Disneyland. Eat fancy croissants in Paris for breakfast. Have Lyla fake a reservation at an all-inclusive yoga retreat in Bali. You could be living your life like every moment is your last.

The thing is though, as delusional as it may be, you’re not ready to bet on the world ending just yet.

“Miguel, I fully intend for the universe to still be around in two months. And I don’t want to be unemployed when that day comes. I’m not some trust fund baby. Once we figure this thing out, you’re gonna be free to go, and if you take Lyla with you, then what am I supposed to do? Live on the streets? Rent in the city is ridiculous, and my rent-controlled apartment got blown into a million pieces.”

For once Miguel doesn’t seem to have anything smart to say back. He tilts his head, quietly studying your face. Then after a long pause, he gives you a curt nod, as if something clicked into place.

"Fine."

You stop mid-way through zipping up one of your boots to eye him suspiciously.

Okay, that’s… different.

In all the mornings you’ve repeated this argument, this is the first time he’s simply accepted your explanation without sassing you back. He just gazes right back, apparently unperturbed, and holds the door of your hotel room open for you, ready to walk you to work.

There is definitely something going on inside his head, because this stubborn dummy never lets anything go without a fight. You just don’t know what it is yet.

By mid-morning, you've forgotten all about your suspicions, too busy dealing with the aftermath of your coworker's incompetence. You're not entirely sure how they managed to corrupt the Excel formula you’d painstakingly inserted to make sure all the numbers add up correctly, but two hours later, you're still trying to get the data to compute properly.

It’s the kind of mind numbing task that lets your mind wander, and you spend most of that morning wondering what Miguel is up to. He’s probably lingering near the building, eating mini donuts by the dozens from that food truck that is always parked around the corner.

There’s a pointed series of knocks on your cubicle wall. The noise is grating, and it makes the whole of your back seize up because you recognize that signature knock from sound alone. It’s your boss, probably here to ask if you have capacity to take on more case evaluations.

And sure enough, as you reluctantly turn to look, you see her, toothy smile and all, looking down at you in that hammy and strained way of hers.

“Are you busy?” she asks. “I just wanted to introduce you to the newest member of the team.”

She gestures to the person standing beside her. Your gaze goes up over their insanely long legs, up and over the narrow and tapered waist and torso, up over the wide chest and broad, broad shoulders, and even before you get to the familiar face, you already know who you are looking at, because no one else is that tall.

Your mouth gapes open wide in shock.

This stupid motherf-

“This is Mickey O’Hara,” your boss introduces, simpering up at him. (You didn’t even know she knew how to simper.)

Has Miguel gone insane?

What is he playing at?!

He didn’t even bother to change his name properly!

And the man looks unfairly good in office casual! He’s dressed in a white, well-fitted button down shirt and dress pants. Wearing ridiculous thick-rimmed glasses that would belong on Gregory Peck. Riotous curls are as messy and wild as ever, not having even bothered to comb it back. You don’t know who he thinks he’s fooling, the subdued get-up only makes him stick out like a sore thumb.

“Mickey is our newest hire,” your boss continues, batting her eyes at him. “He's interning with our team as a junior insurance claims adjuster and will be shadowing you for the next two months.”

After that, Miguel truly is with you everywhere you go.

He spends most of each workday sitting on a spare chair in your small cubicle, the two of you squeezed into 6'x6', shoulder touching shoulder in that tiny, cramped space.

A superhero he may be, but Miguel is a terrible office worker. He seems completely bamboozled by the copier, and you quickly learn not to ask him to do any copying or scanning or even pick your printouts from the printer, because he always manages to mangle the process, coming back with crumpled up prints or half-shredded paper that looks like budget confetti.

Before the week is over, he’s gained a reputation with the rest of the team as the handsome-but-useless junior that can’t even make coffee for shit.

Most of the time, he doesn't even make an effort to look like he’s doing any actual work, just sits right next to you, and reads books all day long. When you scold him and ask him to at least pretend like he's doing busy work, or he'll get fired, Miguel will just shrug and quietly hum back at you, engrossed in whatever latest sci-fi book his nose is buried in.

"If they fire me, I'll just have Lyla hack into their HR system and rehire me."

Then there’s the way his sleeves are always rolled up halfway up his arm, hugging tight around the firm muscles of his forearm. The peep show of gorgeously tanned skin that is always on display for all to see. It's obscene.

He’s maddening and distracting.

Still, you can’t be too mad about his presence. The office is a much more treacherous place than you’d initially thought. It’s a danger zone of death traps.

One morning when you’re in the supply room, getting a new pad of post-its from one of the massive industrial shelves—the ones that are supposed to be bolted to the wall for safety—suddenly crumpled, taking half the wall with it and nearly flattening you. That was almost game over for you. Squashed like a bug and entombed under a pile of archived TPS reports.

Then there’s that time with the runaway elevator when the supposedly secure and unbreakable industrial cables snaps, with you in it, falling through 40 floors. And you still shudder everytime you walk past the copy machine because of that time it tried to electrocute you. If Miguel hadn’t been there for all of these incidents, you’d be a goner.

Another upside is that it’s also nice to have a cubicle buddy. On slow days, the two of you kill time watching YouTube origami tutorials and practicing with post-its stolen from the temporarily-relocated office supplies.

Despite having hands the size of a giant, Miguel is surprisingly good at it. Delicately folding paper cranes, butterflies and flowers that sit in the place of pride atop of your computer screen, compared to your questionable attempts that usually wind up in a crumpled ball in the trash.

With Miguel there, your days at the office are never boring or predictable in the way they used to be. It no longer feels like you are just going through motions. It's almost… fun.

If there wasn’t a cosmic executioner’s ax looming over your neck, you don’t think you would mind spending every day with him like this.

You take it back. You do mind spending days with him like this. Miguel is the worst.

You've been doing data entry all morning, and the man will not shut up about how primitive Excel is.

“Malo! I don’t understand how your company relies on this software. There are so many data consistency issues! It completely lacks data validation and integrity checks, and it’s too prone to human error when entering crucial data, which results in–”

You take deep calming breaths as you continue to type, trying to pretend his rant is white noise.

The previous day's near death experience—an electrical surge from the printer, trying to finish what the copy machine started—also wiped out one of the file servers, and now you and half your department are stuck manually re-entering three years worth of data.

Two hours in, your fingers are aching, and you're about ready to start banging your head on the keyboard out of frustration. (Or banging the keyboard on Miguel’s head if he doesn’t shut up.)

Like he can hear your thoughts, the man in question obligingly stops talking, and there’s a moment of blessed silence before your chair glides smoothly and suddenly to the left as Miguel rolls you out from in front of your computer. Your first instinct is to wonder what new danger he’s saving you from, but no… He’s just moving you out of the way to make space for him to drag his own chair in front of the screen. “Enough,” he says firmly, already typing out some unintelligibly complex code at a speed that far outstrips your own personal best of 67 words per minute, “I can’t watch you keep doing this when it’s so simple to automate.”

You sometimes forget just how smart Miguel is.

True, he can’t seem to work the office printer, but he’s a genius scientist who single-handedly built an A.I. sophisticated enough to hack into financial institutions and topple governments. He successfully invented a machine that travels between dimensions. Every other sentence coming out of his mouth sounds like something that would confound Stephen Hawking. You don’t know why you’re surprised he’s able to automate Excel spreadsheets.

It doesn’t take him very long at all.

Within minutes, he’s finished, hitting enter one final time, and then you can see all of the cells rectify themselves one by one. Errors disappear and new corrected information appears, data populating blank cells and aligning itself in tidy rows.

You lean in closer to get a better look. Your elbow snags the edge of your coffee cup and the cup topples over, splashing runaway hot coffee across your hand.

Before you have a chance to react, there’s a strong pull backwards. Miguel is already grabbing you and pulling you sideways into his lap and out of the firing range.

The cup clatters off the edge of the desk and onto the floor. The rest of the burning liquid never had the time to land on you.

Then you’re sitting on top of him, confined in the much too small seat of the office chair that can barely fit him and his broad backside, and much less the both of you. But if it’s uncomfortable, Miguel doesn’t show it. He takes your hand in his to inspect it carefully.

The patch of skin burns and stings, but you can’t tell if it’s from the coffee or his burning touch that makes you feel like there’s liquid fire simmering in your veins.

“You okay?” he says, his voice right in your ear.

He is so close. Surrounding you. Broad arms locked around your waist and the firm muscles of his thick thighs under yours.

“Yeah,” you manage, nodding slowly. Your tongue feels heavy and dry in your mouth.

He quietly drags your hand closer to his face, then blows on the back of your burnt knuckles to soothe the sting.

“Better?”

Those stunning eyes are staring into yours from inches away, cut cheeks right there, nose barely brushing against yours, and – god, is he close. Too close.

Miguel is always in close proximity to you these days. Never more than a couple yards away, but save for life or death situations, the two of you do not find yourself like this. He only ever holds you when you’re crashing through the skies or about to collide with a runaway vehicle. This is different somehow.

Your heart feels like a trapped bird in your chest, fluttering so fast and panicky it might burst from inside out at the proximity.

“I– um– ah…” You’re not saying any words, just making strange noises in your throat like a squawking bird.

Your eyes flicker away from his face avoidantly and from the corner of your eye, you spot Matt from accounting spying on you from the cubicle across.

Oh god. This probably doesn’t look great, does it?

You’re sitting on a co-worker’s lap in the middle of an open plan office. Compromising does not even begin to describe the position you two are in.

Jumping off his lap, you quickly stand up and turn away, trying to ignore the flustered heat in your cheeks.

You walk back over to your chair, about to sit yourself back down, but there’s spilled coffee everywhere. The dark brown liquid quickly sinking into the already stained fabric of the seat. You need to clean this up or else your chair is going to smell like expired coffee for the rest of time. Grabbing for your bag, you start digging for some tissues so you don't have to walk up to the supply closet.

You pull out item after item. Tampons. Sunglasses. A half-eaten chocolate bar. More tampons. New wallet with new ID, (expedited, all courtesy of Lyla). A handful of pennies. A random pamphlet. Still no tissues though, so you upend your bag onto your desk, wincing at the clatter.

How on Earth have you accumulated this much stuff in the few short weeks since your apartment was destroyed? And how on Earth do you not have any kleenex or napkins or anything in your handbag??

You paw through the mess, hoping for something useful, then swear as some of it spills over onto the floor. Ducking down, you crawl half under your desk, collecting wayward tampons and receipts, until your eyes pause on the pamphlet.

Not just any pamphlet. It’s yellow and bright with Whoopie Goldberg's face in the corner. It's the map you received from the fortune teller lady. One of your many misfires.

Now that you look closely at it, there are faint lines that seem to glow faintly in the dimness under your desk that weren't there when you were looking at it in plain daylight.

You pick it up and unfold it, laying it out on the floor. It looks like it’s been written on with some kind of a glow-in-the-dark marker, but it’s not dark enough for you to see clearly. You need to get somewhere darker to test your theory.

Backing out from under your desk, you get to your feet and head briskly off down the hall. You barely make it three steps before Miguel’s on your tail, his towering height blocking out the bright LED lamps above as he follows after you like the world’s biggest duckling.

“Cielo, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” you murmur curtly under your breath. The heat from before is still riding persistently on your face, and you quicken your steps, hoping it doesn’t show.

You half run to the end of the hall until you reach the small supply closet. When you open the door to step inside, Miguel is right behind you, apparently trying to squeeze himself in after you.

"We won't both fit in here!" you scold as you close the door after you. His unhappy expression is the last thing you see as darkness envelops you in the pitch black.

There’s a niggling feeling of guilt that wiggles down into your skin. But you remind yourself that you can always steal cupcakes meant for clients from the conference room to make it up to him. All will be forgiven if you appease his sweet tooth.

Ducking your head to stare down at the map clutched in your hands, you squint your eyes in the dark to study it closely. There's a small star glowing bright in the middle of the map.

It's a literal star map.

She gave you a location.

You're standing in front of an old stone building at 177A Bleecker Street, smack in the middle of Greenwich village with its picturesque ivy covered old brownstone houses.

Then there's this monstrosity: Sanctum Sanctorum. The infamous residence of Dr. Strange.

The mansion is built in a mix of a Victorian and Gothic style as if the architect couldn't make up their mind and just decided 'why not both?' Throughout the rooftop, there are ornate carvings and intricate stonework that you suspect was meant to lend it a mysterious air, but instead the place reminds you of Disney’s Haunted Mansion ride attraction.

You bring up your hand to the old knocker, gripping it firmly. Your lungs tighten, breath constricting in your chest as you hesitate, unable to bring yourself to pull the brass down to make contact with the wooden front door. Instead you’re holding it still in the air.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all. How are you going to explain this?

‘The universe is out to get me, please send Avengers to help.’

Isn’t he just going to think you’re nuts? One of those delusional Supes-fan with munchausen syndrome?

"We can still leave," Miguel says.

The man's been protesting every step of the way here, buzzing in your head about how much of a bad idea this is.

You frown, turning around to him. "I want to do this,” you answer.

His continued opposition is the final push you need. You bring down the knocker against the front door and tap it repeatedly.

There's no answer.

Part of you has to fight the urge to turn your feet and flee, saving yourself the embarrassment. But before you do, there’s a loud creak and a heavy scraping noise against the entrance as the double door swings inwards and slowly opens.

No one greets you by the door. The entryway before you is empty, revealing a grand imperial staircase leading to the second floor, curving upward into a majestic spiral on each side of the room.

It looks deserted. It’d be impolite to just step inside without someone to greet you and explicitly invite you in. But the doors did open to let you in.

You look at Miguel, unsure of what to do, but the man does not have the same compunction for politeness that you do, he’s already walked in, shoes and all, straight into the main hall.

“Can we just get this over with without you making your usual stupid grand dramatic entrance?” Miguel says into the empty room seemingly to no one in particular and you don’t know who he thinks he’s talking to.

A ring of ember and fire sparks into existence out of nothingness in the center of the room. The ring grows wider, and you can see hints of another room inside of the circle: one decorated in a different decoration style than the current room you’re in: moroccan seats and plush cushions with oriental wooden carved furniture.

A man steps out from within that room to stand in front of you both. The ring of light closes behind him once he’s made it through. Clad in a rich purple tunic and dark robes that is monk-like in appearance. Miguel steps in front of you, tucking you safely behind him.

"You're not Strange," Miguel sneers, and you want to smack him. Why does he always have to be this rude?

"Oh, I'm quite strange. But I am not the Doctor. I am Wong. I’m the Sorcerer Supreme and guardian of this place." The man’s voice is calm and formal, and he holds himself with a stately manner as he speaks.

You pop out your head from behind Miguel’s side. "We’re here to see Doctor Strange."

At the repeated mention of Strange, the man’s formality seems to fall away, an expression of irritation bleeding into his features.

"Let me know when you find him. Because he is not here."

"Where is he?" Miguel asks, and there’s that contempt rumbling in his voice again.

"I do not know. Probably playing hooky again. The man comes and goes as he likes." Wong makes a muttering noise under his breath as he continues. "Treats this sacred place like a summer gig at McDonalds."

Your chest deflates. How are you supposed to get Dr. Strange to help you if he’s not even here?

"I need help,” you plead with Mr. Wong. Maybe he can help you if Dr Strange can’t, he is the Sorcerer Supreme after all, supreme is the highest level, right? This might even be an upgrade from Strange. “I know this sounds crazy, but I think the universe is out to get me."

Wong just looks at you, expression unchanging, and okay, yeah, that was maybe not the best place to start. You take a deep breath, trying to figure out how to make yourself sound less paranoid.

"I've almost died 40 times since the beginning of the summer. I just want to know why this keeps happening and how to make it stop."

You dig into your bag, pulling out the folded map.

"We talked to a fortune teller in Chinatown, and she gave me this map. It led us here, and I'm really, really hoping you can help me."

Wong dips his head down to the map, "This is a celebrity home star map," he says, with a straight face and a neutral voice that only slightly betrays that he thinks you're batshit crazy.

“I know it sounds crazy, but-”

“Sanctum Sanctorum opened its doors for you, which means it wanted me to meet with you. I believe what you’re telling me.”

Oh thank god.

You tell him everything, rambling on as you try to explain what’s been happening and what little you know about it as best you can. The near death experiences, Miguel being a Spiderman from another dimension, the destruction of your apartment, the unnatural phenomena and the universe’s escalating attempts on your life.

Wong is quiet throughout, studying your face with grave concentration as you speak.

When you’re finally done, he sighs with deep weariness that emanates from the core of his soul. He looks down on his feet, tapping them in deep consideration.

"I have an idea,” Wong says cautiously, “I could perform a Multiversal Divination on you, that might give us a clearer idea of what we’re dealing with,”

“What does that mean?” Miguel asks, anger vibrating off his skin and boiling in his tone.

This man needs to calm down. You clearly need to take him to anger management, because since the moment he’s stepped into this place he’s been on the edge (even more so than usual).

“What does a ‘Multiversal Divination’ entail?” he continues, “Is that some magical mumbo jumbo that’s going to hurt her? Because if so we’re not–”

“I’ll do it,” you say, interrupting his objections, and you sidestep Miguel who is scowling, mouth already parted in yet another protest, to stand in front of Wong.

Wong looks to you and then Miguel, then back at you again, caught in the awkward stalemate, before you interrupt.

“Please, I need answers. Whatever it is, if it might help, I want to do it.”

Wong nods, stepping closer to you. "This will feel a little bit strange," he warns with the bedside manner of a patient doctor.

His hand comes to your collarbone and he places his palm there with a gentle push. There is barely any effort put into it, but you feel the force of it as if you had been slammed with the full force of a six ton truck. Your body wants to leap out of its skin. It is the sensation of being dumped in cold water from head to toe. A shock runs through your entire nervous system.

Images flash before your eyes, flickering by too fast for you to process. They’re vivid and bright. Glimpses of a scene: your apartment, your work, your commute home. Each of them expiring in a fraction of a moment before you have a chance to latch on and make sense of any of them individually.

You see yourself in picture after picture. Except slightly different in each. Short hair. Long locks. Curly.

In some you're wearing glasses instead of the contact lenses that you usually use. In others, you’re sporting the piercing you wanted to get at 16 but never did. Sometimes you have tattoos, sometimes not; occasionally you’re covered in them. Dyed hair, in every color of the spectrum: pink, blue, purple. A myriad of versions of you, of every variation of the decisions you could have possibly taken in your life.

There are pictures of memories you have had and not had. They rush in and flee before you're able to grab hold of one.

Captured moments of lifetimes you have never lived.

It's overwhelming. You don't understand what you're seeing. There’s pandemonium inside your head.

Then everything slows to a crawl.

The scene unfolding before you is one that you immediately recognize. An image that you'll never forget.

Window after window after window flashing you by. You know this view. Have seen it twice before. The same view of the Chrysler building as you were falling. But it's different this time.

The sky isn’t blue, nor is it gray. It’s a pink and an abnormal purple, a color you’ve never seen on it before and it looks both beautiful and completely wrong. There’s an angry tear in the sky, cracking at the edges with static. The whole of the sky looks like it is going to cleave in two and bring the whole world with it. Is this the future? Is it the past?

There's no pain, but somehow tears run down your cheeks uncontrollably.

In the distance you hear Miguel's voice, muted even though you know from that tone that he's furious and must be bellowing loud enough that it echoes through the walls. It sounds like you are underwater, and you have to strain to make out what he is saying.

"Why is she crying?" He's definitely shouting, voice raw and growling. Is this part of your memory or is it happening in the now? "You're hurting her."

The ground approaches.

"Stop! Stop!" Miguel's voice is shouting, but there's no way to stop this. Everything is going too fast this time around.

Miguel is here, tearing through the sky towards you. But you know it's too late. He's too far away. He can't save you this time.

Then everything does stop.

No images in your head. No noise in your ears.

Everything goes black, like the ending of a movie.

Then you hear a thud.

It's loud and close and real.

You snap yourself out of your fugue state, to see Miguel towering over Wong's body where the Sorcerer Supreme lies, limp and lifeless on the ground.

“What did you do!? Are you out of your mind?" you shout, running up to them.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. Wong isn’t moving, not even blinking!

"He was hurting you!" Miguel roars.

"He wasn't hurting me, you big doofus!" you shout back, and it’s only then that the fury in Miguel’s eyes seem to abate.

"What's wrong with him?” you ask, bending down Wong’s limp body on the ground. “Is he dead!? Did you kill him?” There's a rising panic pushing inside your throat.

"He's just paralyzed."

"He’s para– What do you mean paralyzed? What did you do to him?"

"I just... I bit him," he uses a finger to part his lips slightly, pushing the upper one up just enough to reveal the sharp edges of his fangs. "There's toxins in them that can have a paralyzing effect."

You glance back at Wong. He’s still worryingly still.

“Is there some kind of way to un-paralyze him!?"

"It was just a small bite," Miguel says, ducking his head down sheepishly to stare at the floor, like a scolded boy. "I didn’t use that much venom... It’ll wear off. He shouldn't be out long. Maybe half an hour or so."

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry,” you tell Wong fervently, hovering over him. You can see his eyes tracking yours and the rise and fall of his chest, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the proof that he’s still alive. “Do you, um… Do you want me to help you up?”

“He’s not gonna want to move for a few more minutes,” Miguel interjects from behind you. “Moving will be incredibly painful until the venom wears off the rest of the way”.

What the actual fuck!?

You throw a glare at Miguel, as you loop an arm under Wong’s waist, “Well help me move him so he can be more comfortable.”

At your command, Miguel helps you prop the man up against the wall in what is (hopefully) a more comfortable position, and then you sit next to each other and wait.

"I can't believe you bit the Sorcerer Supreme," you mutter under your breath. “Miguel, you can’t just–” you cut yourself off, too frustrated to find the proper words.

"I'm sorry,” he says, grimacing at your scolding, looking regretful for once as he ducks down his gaze. “You looked like you were in pain".

Your anger subsides, if only slightly at his repentance.

“It still doesn’t make it okay. You can’t just attack someone like that! He was trying to help us.”

He doesn’t say anything more to that, just stares down at his feet in contrition.

The two of you sit in the silence.

Your mind goes back to the surreal experience you just had. The myriad of thousands if not millions of images that were flashing through your mind at the speed of light.

The warped shape of your world, the jarring images of it distorted and wrong, as it started to collapse.

Miguel had said that didn’t he? That the universe was going to ramp up its game and if it didn’t succeed, it would eventually self-destruct in its mission to get you.

It takes 26 minutes. The first sign that the toxins are wearing off is that Wong is able to wiggle his toes. His recovery accelerates after that, he's able to move his fingers, then the muscles in his face until he's able to form a grimace. He doesn't look happy, and you don't blame him.

After another five minutes or so, he's able to speak again.

"Strange way of expressing gratitude, literally biting the hand that helps you."

You get up on your feet to help Wong, and Miguel moves next to you.

“No, you stay there! Don’t move,” you order, and even though he scowls, Miguel complies.

You hunch over next to Wong, and help him sit fully upright. He stays seated, but dusts his robe off from the caked soot and fine layers of dirt.

“This has happened in other dimensions,” Wong tells you. “And if we don’t stop it, our universe will be destroyed.”

“How do we stop it?” you ask.

“The universe wants you dead. It won’t stop until it achieves its goal.”

Your stomach drops.

“So in order for this to stop… I need to die?”

There’s a look of barely contained fury burning in Miguel’s red eyes that seems to vibrate out of his skin and pounce. But he doesn't, this time he remains in place, visibly restraining himself, still following your orders.

“There is that option, or you will need to find the reason for why it wants to kill you. And you need to find it soon, because you don’t have a lot of time left. You will have even less time once the people of this world realize the threat you present to the continued integrity of this universe.”

“Are you threatening her!?” Miguel demands, and somehow even though you didn’t hear him move, he’s right behind you, red eyes glowing, shoulders rising, looming over Wong, ready to cut him down at any further hints that the man might be a threat to your safety.

Wong doesn't seem deterred in the slightest.

You have to give it to the Sorcerer Supreme. He's a brave one. It took you weeks before you stopped being intimidated by the man, and Miguel’s never bitten you.

“I am only telling you what the universe tells me. And it tells me that you do not belong here at all. The universe thinks neither of you belong here.”

You think back on fortune teller's drawing of the poorly drawn circle and stickfigure of you that’s speared with arrows.

"What if we went… somewhere else?" Miguel asks.

For the first time since he entered this house, his tone is no longer dripping with anger. “What if we left this universe and dimension?”

The image of white blankness enters your mind at his words. You shudder at the reminder. The cold numbness of the void and the sensation of nothingness. Dread fills your veins. A cold clammy sweat flashes hot and cold against your skin at the memory.

Wong tilts his head up in deep consideration. “That might work. This universe would slowly return to equilibrium with her gone. But… This will just start again in any new Universe. Most likely she wouldn’t be able to stay. She might have to leave every dimension she's in for the rest of her natural lifespan. A life spent always on the run.”

Wong pauses as he glances over to you with sympathy and concern in his gaze. “Is that something you would want?”

What is the alternative here? To lie down and die?

“Yes.”

“One month’s time, you need to find a way to leave this dimension before then.”

Back at your hotel that evening, you wake up to the sound of distress. Muffled whimpers and quiet moans.

By habit, your eyes roam the room, seeking out Miguel in the dark. He’s lying on the sofa from across the room and even in this distance you can make out that his body is writhing beneath the covers. But you’re groggy and too sleep-drunk to make sense of what you’re hearing or seeing.

There’s murmured noises from him, and it takes you far too long to understand what’s going on.

He’s having a nightmare.

Tugging off the blanket on top of you, you get up and scoot over to the end of the bed over to him. Miguel looks like he’s in pain. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he tosses and turns, face pinched in pain and distress. Now that you’re closer, you can make out words in the sounds he’s making.

“Quiero quedarme contigo. No te vayas, no te vayas,” he keeps murmuring.

He looks exhausted. Which, of course he is. He's been on constant alert trying to protect you. Fighting off supernatural weather phenomena, blocking hazardous furniture and fighting off charging hippos out of nowhere. Of course he's worn out.

“Shhhh, It’s alright.” you whisper to him, reaching out to gently stroke his arm, attempting to soothe him. “It’s okay.”

He groans unhappily in his sleep, burying his head into the cushion.

“Quiero quedarme conti–”

"Hey, hey, Miguel,” you tap insistently at his shoulder now. If you can’t soothe the nightmare away, then maybe you can at least wake him up out of it, “It's okay. Wake up."

This time his eyes slam open, wide with adrenaline and shock, and he shoots upright, head whipping from side to side as he scans the room. Every inch of him prepared to leap into a fight.

“What’s wrong? What’s–”

“You were having a nightmare,” you explain to him.

He stiffens at that, dropping his eyes to stare down at his lap unhappily.

“Shit, did I wake you?” he runs a hand over his face, then lays back down, “Sorry.”

Silence blankets the two of you, and you don’t know what else to say to him. Except just that you want him to be able to rest–truly rest–after the day, week and month you’ve both had. You don’t want him to have to go back to snatching moments of troubled, uncomfortable sleep on that stupid, too-small couch.

“You could come sleep on the bed with me,” you offer, “That couch is nowhere near big enough for you.”

"It's fine," he mutters, "It's been fine the last month, and it's fine now."

"It's not though. You're clearly not sleeping well. I should have asked you before. I'm surprised your back isn't already killing you—that sleeping position looked painful."

His head darts down, eyeing his own spread legs that are sticking out into the empty air from the bottom of the couch. But he doesn't concede the point.

"Please?" you try again, "It will make me feel better."

Apparently all you needed to do was ask, because Miguel immediately complies like your request was a decree. He gets up, pulling the quilt with him, his mop of curls in adorable disarray as he drags his feet over to the other side of the bed and flops down with a loud thump that makes the whole mattress bounce underneath you.

You can feel the pull of the sheets where his legs threaten to brush up against your bent knees, and you're beginning to realize you didn't think this through. Even in the big bed, there's only so much space, and he seems to be taking up most of it.

He's close, and you can't seem to peel your eyes away from the strong line of his throat. Can't help the way your body reacts. Your pulse starts to race, heart kicking up hard and fast against your ribs.

Miguel turns around to observe you with narrowed eyes. “You okay?”

Shit! Did he hear you? That timing was too on the nose. You nod at him a little bit too frantically and you sound high-pitched and skittish even to your own ears.

“Yes of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your heart is beating really fast.”

Fuck. He could hear you. Of course he can, he has super hearing powers doesn’t he?

“I’m just tired,” you stammer out, wrapping the blanket close to your chest for layers as a shield from his super hearing.

Miguel doesn’t push it. He turns back around, letting his head drop down the pillow.

The distance between you has been growing smaller and smaller with each passing day together and you think you have been crossing an invisible line that you shouldn’t be crossing as of late.

You think of the closeness of him in the office, the weight of his arms on your waist as he held you in his lap. His eyes on you. The bare skin of his broad back casually revealed to you when he was changing. The same back that you find yourself staring up at in this moment.

“Go to sleep,” Miguel rasps from your side, and you nearly jump out of your skin in surprise.

You close your eyes, but somehow in the dark you become even more keenly aware of his presence in the bed with you. Your heart seems to skip a little bit faster as the seconds pass, each beat a little bit harder.

There's a quiet sigh, then a much louder exhale, as he turns back towards you in bed.

"What's wrong?" His voice is still gruff with sleep.

"I can’t fall asleep,” you say, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. “Can you talk? It might help me sleep."

He snorts with a laugh. The sound of it makes something pleasant skitter up the length of your spine. He's got a nice laugh. It's a shame he doesn't laugh often.

"What's so funny?"

"No, nothing. Just... some things never change." Even in the dim of the unlit room, you can see the smile on his lips.

"What do you want me to talk to you about?" he asks.

You tilt your head, considering it. Miguel rarely gives you a carte blanche to ask him for information. Logically, you should use this moment to seize a tactical advantage and ask him for all the salacious details that you know he’s been keeping from you. But as you wrack your brain for questions, the only ones that come to mind are disappointingly ordinary. You just want to know more about him. Small, silly, personal details, the way he seems to know everything about you.

"Tell me about where you're from," you request, "Your dimension. Your hometown."

He shifts on the bed, lying flat on his back until he’s staring up at the ceiling with you as he reminisces.

"It's called Nueva York. It's significantly more technologically advanced than this dimension. Definitely cleaner. People aren't as big of assholes as they are here. Public hygiene is way better, everything doesn’t reek of piss. Oh, and there’s not a rat epidemic in the public transportation system there."

His head turns to his side to look at your face, and he gives you a small mischievous grin as he continues. "Food is healthier. You don't get junk food there."

The words should be complimentary, but from his tone of voice and what you know of his eating habits, you think it’s probably a win for your dirty, rat-infested dimension.

"Lots of skyscrapers and neon-lights everywhere. It's colorful."

He pauses, as if he's struggling to find anything more to say about the place. Then his head tips to the side, meeting your eyes, and his gaze is soft.

“I'll take you there," he promises, voice quiet and warm and it makes something sweet and honeyed trickle inside your veins pleasantly.

“How?” you wonder.

His smile drops, replaced by an unhappy frown. “Not sure yet, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Can’t we just open up a portal like last time?”

He shakes his head.

"The last time I took you through the portal, it was meant to take us back to my dimension. But I built the parallel universe traversal device to transport me—and only me—through the multiverse."

He reaches out to you, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. The contact makes your skin tingle, but you don’t pull away.

"I wasn't thinking last time. We can’t take the risk of winding up back in the void.”

He’s mumbling now, nearly asleep. His eyes half-shut as he blinks slowly, struggling to keep them open as he slowly blinks.

"Someone that disappears in the void, they'll be erased from existence and out of every timeline. No one will ever remember you or know you existed. It's as if you've never existed at all."

You eye the watch on your wrist. The slight sheen of the bed light reflecting against the shiny glass.

"Can we modify the watch?"

"Firstly, not a watch", he reminds you by rote as he fluffs up his pillow with his arm.

"And second..." he pauses, eyes drifting up to study the ceiling before he shakes his head, "I've tried. It doesn’t work. The power source isn’t powerful and your world is not technically advanced enough for me to build an upgraded self-sustaining fusion power source that would be needed. It’s how we ended up in the void.”

Worry burrows into your chest, and your gaze drops down from his face. It always feels like you’re taking one step forward and ending up two steps back. Futile and hopeless but that’s what you get for trying to fight against the will of the universe.

"Go to sleep," he says again, his hand coming to rest gently on top of your head, "I'll figure it out, don't worry.”

You smile, warmed by the comforting gesture and his reassurance.

“I won't let you get hurt this time."

…‘this time.’

The promise cuts through you like glass. Sharp and jagged and clawing its way into your chest until it hurts you to breathe.

Miguel is talking to you, but you don’t think it’s you he’s thinking of when he says the words.

He attacked Wong without a second of hesitation when he thought you were hurt. He's exhausting himself half to death to protect you. But you know that he’s not really doing any of this for you.

It’s not your comfort he was thinking of when he cradled your burnt hand and gently blew on your fingers. It’s not your love of egg tarts that makes him save the flaky pastries for you when the two of you go out for dinner. It’s not you—has never been you—that he’s seeing whenever his eyes linger on your face when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

You're riding on the emotional coattails of the other you. The unwavering loyalty that he had for her has transferred to you now that she's gone.

He must have really loved her.

There’s a sharp fissure in your chest, and you try to swallow down the thistle of needles that’s found its way into your throat, only to discover that your saliva tastes sour and bitter.

Closing your eyes, you can see an image of yourself smiling with him, laughing with him, holding his hand. Except it’s not you.

It’s her.

Other-you, with the wedding band and the happy life and– And somehow better hair too, the lucky bitch!

Except… she wasn't lucky, was she? She's dead.

She’s dead, and you still resent her for what she had with Miguel. It's such an ugly feeling.

You squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, but the image doesn’t go away. Nor does that acrid taste in your mouth. You can't help it. This irrational and childish madness is eating into the edges of your mind. You're envious of your other self.

God that’s fucked up.

Does someone like you even deserve to be saved at all?

~ Next Issue

Credits & Dedications: To @thirstworldproblemss for all the rubberducking we do together on this silly little story. Thank you so much for sitting with me and making this fun! I love you 234238472938492374923 x infinity and back again.

a/n: to be notified of new writing updates follow astroboots-writes and turn on notifs.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you #marvel mcu

979 notes · View notes

woozten-x · 7 months

Text

#. 𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 || 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧

[ ; M.List including other Neos! ]

─ Synopsis: Two dogs have brought you having an encounter with a familiar stranger.

Shockingly enough, Jeong Jaehyun has been a fool for you for quite awhile.

─ Pairing: Jeong Jaehyun x Gender Neutral!Reader

─ Genre: fluffy/wholesome<3<3

─ Concepts: a lil flustered/embarrassed jaehyun cuz i like softies, jaehyun has two girl dogs<3, reader and jaehyun meeting after years, implication of jaehyun being in love with reader since then, icecream with jaehyun, yoga instructor jaehyun because yes, straightforward jaehyun cuz we love confident men in this house!!, jungwoo appearing for like a BRIEF moment cuz im kinda in dojaejung headrot lowk

─ Count of Words: 2.6k

─ Inspiration of the work: Love is a Beauty by NCT 127 + Fool For You by Snoh Aalegra

・❥ a/n: i thought of making this a bit longer... but, i kinda liked the straightforwardness of it and just the ending left to interpret whatever you want HAHA. i might make this a series with NCT 127, basing it off of love is a beauty because that song is SOSO cute and my lovesick mind is going haywire!!

jaehyun was mainly based off of NCT Golden Age concept photos where he radiates so much domestic au vibes and THE TWO DOGS<3<3 i possibly made this to have an excuse to write about yoga instructor jaehyun with two dogs

Summer sunlight kisses upon your skin, the golden glow giving a shine that one could call ethereal. You sit on the bench of the park, the chirps of the birds singing a serene tune with distant children playing on the other side where the playground was; at times, people would walk by with feet scraping across the concrete with murmurs of conversation reaching your ears.

However, you paid no attention. Instead, you are focused on the page of your book, occasionally flipping a page or fidgeting with the corner of the page with a pout of your lips. You are invested in the plot, completely lost in your own world of fiction. The words of the plot take you elsewhere, a world where it's more tolerable than reality itself.

It was one of those rare times, where you are leaving your home for a fresh breath of air. Usually, the summer heat would have you returning back to your apartment with the air conditioner blasting cool air; but, one of those rare days of summer being just perfect has you welcoming outside, appreciating what nature is presenting and how time is flowing past without a worry.

You did not expect this day to be any different. In fact, you are seated on the bench with your hydroflask of cold water sitting next to you, time flowing by without your attention wavering from the book on your lap. Sounds of distant barking reach your ears, but it did not distract you from the book you are currently invested in; it was simply one of those sounds you did not flinch at.

After all, you are at the park. What could be out of the ordinary?

The barking grows closer, you feel your eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion. Deep pitch barks of a canine disrupting your reading, you blink a few times to regain your focus; maybe there is a large dog playing near you - you thought. But, with more seconds passing with the barking and a rushing of pawsteps, you are finally torn away from your book with irritation expressing from your features for a brief moment.

What could possibly be wrong? Is some dog wreaking havoc?

Possibly so, considering there is a large dog with a leash attached to its collar; the gray and white pelt similar to a poodle’s, the long legs fast as a cheetah’s. If you look closely, his fur is combed back by the rush of the wind because of how fast it ran. You look around, noticing how no person is supervising the canine; you thought maybe the dog was fetching something or had run off to start a chase with a squirrel.

But, the more you watched, the dog’s attention suddenly landed on you. The dog barks, the long, fluffy tail wagging behind it; you are confused for a moment, similar to a deer in the headlights. You aren’t sure what will happen, but your body is freezing despite the warm weather, at that very moment.

The dog runs up to you, tongue sticking out between its panting mouth, the dog hopping up onto your lap and you yelp in surprise by the heaviness of its paws. Fluffy paws settle on your lap, your book unfortunately crushed underneath by its weight. You panic, unsure what to do; surely, you had plenty of encounters with dogs…But, this is quite random and one that completely caught you off-guard.

The large poodle mix happily greets you, pawing at your hands and seeming to imply you to pet him…Or her. You aren’t exactly sure, but it has you smiling; the dog’s friendliness only replacing the irritation from before with amusement. You lift up a hand, patting the dog’s head - “Have you run off from your owner?” You coo, scratching behind the dog’s floppy ears and it’s tongue meets your skin with wet streaks.

Giggling, you are cooing at the dog and squishing the cheeks together, adoring how fluffy and adorable the dog is! It was like a large stuffed animal begging for your attention. Suddenly, a male’s voice reaches your ears from a distance - “Bonnie!” The name makes the dog’s head turn away from you, ears perked up by the familiarity of its calling. Bonnie the dog did not leave your side, only bathing in the attention you gave.

“Bonnie!” He calls again, his voice sounding more relieved than panicked once approaching you and the dog. The man walks up to you, the fluffy brown hair on top of his head parted and a white tank-top complimenting his lean, toned physique; you would be flustered to see such a handsome man, but your eyes wandered to the small white toy poodle by his feet. You coo, “Aww~ How adorable!” You exclaim, calling for the smaller canine.

The white toy poodle excitedly runs up to you, the leash accidentally tangling with the legs of the man’s; he stumbles towards the bench you sat, gripping onto the back of the wood with his arms flexing near you. Your eyes widened, getting up to hopefully help him but the dogs were in the way, causing you to stumble towards him like some foolish dance.

Suddenly, an arm is wrapped around your waist and you are not meeting the floor with a possibly bruised face. The proximity between you and the stranger caused your heart to race in embarrassment, a heat rising in your body temperature and the summer’s warmth did not help; however, he stood in front of you with wide eyes. His pink lips parting slightly with a flustered smile, “Are you okay?”

You nod with eyes avoiding the dimples imprinting the corners of his lips, his strong grasp weakening once you find some composure to move away from him and the dogs. Thankfully, with some distance made, the dogs follow you and the man leans down to pick up the stray leash the larger dog had - “I am so sorry about that,” He said sheepishly, looking at you once he straightened his back and gained some control over his excited dogs.

“No, you are fine! Are your dogs always this friendly?” You laugh, thankful that this awkward encounter wasn’t cursed as some embarrassing memory; you could easily melt the ice with the handsome man before you, about his dogs. He looks at you before answering, his eyes widening slightly but the smile never wavering - “Y-Yeah…Uh, well not really.” He said awkwardly.

You chuckle at his words, kneeling down in front of the dogs to let them come closer to you with kisses of their own. You laugh, “They are cute! This is Bonnie and…” You trail off, looking towards the white dog next to Bonnie. The man remains to be awkward, his stiff posture only making him scratch the back of his neck - “Bunny.” He answers back, trying to relieve the tension plaguing his body with a forced laugh.

The attempt was fruitless though, considering he feels extreme embarrassment around you. You smile widely, “Bunny!” You call out, the small dog going on her hind legs, seeming to show a trick upon your call. You extend out your hands, petting both dogs and cooing at them like they are newborns.

“They are both girls.” He tells you, watching you interact with his girls. He smiles, a faint blush from the heat or possibly the embarrassment coloring his pale cheeks; a glow in his eyes, one that seems to be adoring you from afar. “How cute!” You say with a hum, standing up and finally facing him. He seems to stiffen when your attention settles on him, your warm gaze only making his heart ache just a little.

You stare at him, furrowing your brows - “Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, his face familiar from somewhere in your past. He blinks back at you, “I do yoga here at the park.” He said, his hands tugging the dogs away from you. It seems like his own dogs are in love with you, just as his heart is.

“Really? I swore, I’ve seen you before…” You mutter out, thinking maybe he is some celebrity…Considering his outstanding looks, he has to be! But, you couldn’t recall.

There is a visible twitch to his lips, a small smirk growing on his face - “Maybe…From your dreams?” He said with a small laugh of his own, the joke gradually brewing in his mind before he said it. It was cute though, the way his eyes light up when thinking about a smooth reply to your words.

Smiling, you roll your eyes - “I’ll see you around then. The stranger from my dreams~” You tease while picking up your book and hydroflask. He continues to smile at you, seeming proud to see you smile like that.

“I’ll see you around,” He said, a small promise to his words as you gave him one last nod before walking off. Although you wish to stay much longer to possibly know more about the familiar stranger, you wanted to return back home and take a cold shower after the eventful encounter. You try to think, wondering who he could be…

How could a stranger be so familiar? You simply cannot figure it out.

. . .

Sitting at your usual spot at the park, a new book in your hands. Eyes wandering along the page with each line describing the scene, bringing you a sense of experience with the words printed on the page. Away from reality once again, but you hear more voices this time; among all of them, there is one you recognize. You didn’t think much of it at first, wanting to finish this chapter first before taking in your surroundings.

Once you do finish the chapter, you are looking up to see the same man you met a few days ago. He wore a pair of gym shorts, the fabric reaching his knees and wearing a white tee that seems a little too tight on him; his body flexing underneath, as he moves and instructs yoga to his class on his mat.

You feel a small smile tugging at your lips, watching how he slowly takes the lead; encouraging anyone who might not be as flexible as him. The more you watch, you smile to yourself, admiring the way the sun glows on his skin like a golden spotlight. He straightens himself, his eyes wandering to you and his dimpled smile is overcoming his pink lips.

Oh, it was so familiar…One that makes your heart feel like mush.

He waves a hand at you, a boyish smile on his face with eyes twinkling at the sight of you. You wave back, chuckling when noticing one of the members of his yoga group had followed his movement.

“Jungwoo, you did not have to do that.”

“What do you mean? You told us to follow what you do!”

You laugh a bit at them, your attention returning back to the book in your hands. You did not spare another glance, not wanting to distract him any further…Even if he is distracting.

Collectively, the yoga group finishes their last stretches before picking up their belongings. You didn’t look up, attentive to the plot you are currently reading; this chapter holds important information, you simply can’t tear your eyes away even for a second. Unknowingly, you held your breath when reading, the details unfolding in your head like a movie; one that has you on the edge of your seat.

Suddenly, a voice rings out - “Hey.”

You barely registered the voice, reaching the end of the chapter - thankfully - but, it was left with a cliffhanger. You huff, feeling a little annoyed by the rising tension and to only remain due to the author’s sadistic tendencies with the reader! You look up, meeting eyes with the man, two icecreams holding in his hands. You blink back at him, surprised to see the icy treats in his hand...Obviously, those treats weren’t just for him.

“Here.” He said, handing you the flavor you love; how would he know? You smile in return, “Thank you…But, you didn’t have to.” You say, accepting his offer nevertheless. You pick up the little spoon, picking up a spoonful with him sitting next to you. “Did I appear in your dreams again?” He asks, a chuckle leaving him by the inside joke the two of you have created when first meeting.

You grin, “Nope. Only once…And never got to learn your name.” You reply back, playing along with the joke shared between the two of you.

He looks at you, “I am Jaehyun.” He said and you felt your own mind melt…Not from the heat, as you thought - but, from the realization. “Jaehyun…The one…” You start, obviously astonished to see the familiar Jeong Jaehyun from your past.

He nods, “So, you do remember me.” He chuckled and you shook your head.

“It was the last year of middle school that you’ve left…” You said with a blush rising to your cheeks. It was unfortunate for Jaehyun to move schools, but meeting him again…As adults and after so many years, it felt odd. Yet the familiarity of it made your heart skip a beat, maybe fate had the two of you intertwined from the very start.

He casually picks a spoonful of icecream to his lips, “A long time, huh?” He hums and you nod slowly at his words. You look away, feeling embarrassed for not exactly recognizing him. Jaehyun glances at you, “We weren’t that close back then…But, I am happy to see you.” He admits, a faint blush on his cheeks by his own honesty.

“I am happy to see you also!” You exclaim, nodding in agreement to convey how important this meeting was. You grin at him, “You’ve been here all along!” You say with a hint of disbelief. It truly was a small world.

Jaehyun nods, “Better late than never.” He replies smoothly, his eyes tracing along your features; seeming to adore the details, the very same details that made him recognize you instantly. To this day, he still hasn’t forgotten; no matter how long, he has not found anyone else…Sometimes, he thinks he is a fool.

“Are you seeing anyone?” He asks suddenly, the silence of admiring you bringing out a bold question from him.

You shook your head, “Nope. Unless, characters from the novels i’ve read count.” You remark, a chuckle leaving you. Jaehyun smirks a bit to himself, his gaze falling to the ice cream melting away in the cup he was holding.

“Go out with me.”

You nearly spat out the icecream in your mouth, eyes wide - “What?” you sputter out, completely caught off-guard.

“I never got to tell you before…So, go out with me.” He repeats, his gaze returning to yours; a hint of warmth in his eyes, a vulnerability radiating him and you swore you could see his heart through his own gaze. The way he looks at you…How long has he had these feelings, especially towards you?

“I am not saying ‘no’ but…How long…”

“For a very long time.” He admits, a hand reaching out; his fingers brushing away the strands of hair covering your face. You felt your own heart melt at his gentleness, only letting him smile back at you with a tenderness that you never knew existed; especially for you.

He leans in, his warm breath reaching your ear - “A very long time where I became such a fool for you.”

Shocked, you watch him lean away with a grin on his lips, but there’s a tinge of pink on his cheeks. The secret told from honest lips, the very same lips holding a beauty of what love is - maybe you have become a fool for him also.

94 notes · View notes

textsfrommittens · 3 days

Text

NEW Daily Mittens: Squirrel Yoga

#texts from mittens #funny texts

10 notes · View notes

norsesquirrelgod · 2 months

Text

A Prairie Dog gets in a big morning stretch, preparing for a hard day of relaxing. Yes, even ground squirrels do Squirrel Yoga!

A prairie dog inside a home walks on a carpet and does a big stretch. Sunlight is coming through large windows behind the prairie dog. (Source: https://www.reddit.com/r/FunnyAnimals/s/aS0LfqoS2p )

#ground squirrel #prairie dog #rodent #squirrel #yoga #squirrel yoga #stretching

0 notes

mammameesh · 26 days

Text

Fav lines game 💫

Thank you @a-noble-dragon and @filet-o-feelings for the tags

rules: share your favorite lines or paragraph you’ve written from one of your fics, posted or wip.

BTS

The man with the alabaster skin is laying in his pool chair. Highly incorrect. But also, the man laying in his pool chair has alabaster skin.

Drabble Smith

The Roses had chosen her, and interwoven her into their vines. Chosen Family. If she had to live through all her sorted past, to find these people, to own this place, then it was a bargain.

New Beginnings

"Have you been doing Yoga on the down low?" Stevie teases.

"Mhmm. Right after my underground boxing ring." David moves easily into the tree pose.

"We don't talk about that." Stevie teases back.

And because I have to wave my Ruth/Stevie Flag

Foliage

"My hero. If we get a house, will we have to worry about wild animals?" Ruth wondered as the two walked again.

"Oh, yes. Squirrels for sure, raccoons, possums, even feral cats."

Does @rmd-writes or @beaiola have anything to share?

#favorite lines #some in my wip too #but I'm being lazy

8 notes · View notes

banannabethchase · 4 months

Note

Youtube influencer AU. who's doing book reviews, who's shilling skincare and cosmetics, who does urban exploring vlogs and keeps getting caught breaking into abandoned buildings?

Oh I like this one! They're all like early 20s in this because I feel like that would lean into the most chaotic dynamics.

Matt is essentially still doing BTE, but from a fan perspective. He's got really absurd wigs and pretends to be certain wrestlers. He gets actual wrestlers as a guest sometimes, but people from his local indies mostly. He also has a slice of life vlog from time to time where he expresses his frustrations about his younger brother's antics, who is...

Nick Jackson: Cryptid Annihilator. He has not gotten within 10 feet of let alone annihilated even a single squirrel. He's convinced he can tempt Mothman with a siren call, which is a "ba CAW!" you can hear from time to time in the background of Matt's videos. He has more than once expressed that his life's goal is to get railed by Mothman, but he's willing to simply meet a cryptid. The closest he got was running into Bryan Danielson, famed yoga youtuber, when he was doing yoga in the woods and Nick was on the hunt for Bigfoot. But that ended with him in a headlock, so he kind of pretends it never happened.

Adam Page is a climate and nature vlogger. His main focus is on sharing the damage climate change has done to areas over time, but his most popular video is an attempt at a collaboration with Nick. Mid video, the two of them started arguing over whether or not Mothman was real or a fictionalized rationalization of climate change until Matt, who was hanging out in the other room, stomped in and yelled, "Would you two just kiss already?!" They've been together 3 years and have not stopped arguing with each other and Matt. He's also in a mild war with Bryan for best nature vlogger because he doesn't think being half naked in the woods counts as nature vlogging.

Daniel Garcia is a gossip/sports blogger. Mainly, he and his best friend Zay shit talk everybody as much as they want and there's never any backlash because the two of them are so goddamned charming in person everybody gives up. Daniel is also an insufferable flirt, which probably has something to do with it. There's rumors he's been spotted in the background of Renee Paquette's wrestling vlog in the indie promotion she runs with Eddie Kingston and Jon Moxley, but nobody can prove it was him making out with Eddie in that two-frame shot in the background.

They all meet up at a con one summer and shit gets...weird. Nick thinks he spots Mothman, jumps him, and knocks the head off only to reveal a dude with dark hair and a weird little smile. "What the hell is wrong with you, dude?" Wheeler Yuta, frequent commenter and viewer of all the previously discussed vlogs. "Can't a dude cosplay?" Matt helps Wheeler clean up and finds rants about Mothman and steel drums and cryptids far more appealing when they're coming from a guy this cute.

#Youtuber AU #AU hell #Guys they're so fucking stupid it hurts #sarahcakes613 #wtf i like wrestling now???#in which sara writes

10 notes · View notes

velvetfoxgames · 1 year

Note

Any interesting facts you can share about each of the li’s? 😁

Alexei

Purposefully touched poison ivy when he was a kid because he was curious about what it would feel like

He can bend his thumbs backwards

Brooklyn

Has a lucky flower. It's a gardenia

Sometimes watches QVC for hours

Leo

Once tried hot yoga because he got a voucher (he never went back)

Would eat ramen everyday if he could

Milo

The embarrassing thing he's not willing to admit is that he once got lost while on a hike

Has a squirrel in his neighborhood he's friends with

Rory

Won multiple spelling bees

A big fan of MCR but he probably won't tell you that

Tobias

Sometimes plays pokemon go when he's bored in the studio

Was in the improv club in high school

#infinite blue #ask #main six #alexei #brooklyn #leo #milo #rory #tobias #velvetfoxgames

62 notes · View notes

cha0ticspacebi · 1 year

Text

You've Got Desire, So Let It Out: Chapter 1

You love your job. Being a teacher is what you've always wanted to do. But being in charge all day can be draining. You are looking for someone to take that control away for a while. When Robin and Steve set you up with Eddie, an old friend from high school, sparks fly! One day you ask Eddie to come volunteer in your classroom and he's more than happy to oblige. But what happens when the inevitable discipline issue arises and you have to use your teacher voice in front of him for the first time? Let's just say Eddie enjoys it a bit too much.

☆ Tags: 21+ MDNI, switch Eddie Munson, switch reader, BDSM, kinky sex, choking, dirty talk, dom/sub, impact play, bratting, degradation, praise, humiliation, restraints, mean dom Eddie, overstimulation, orgasm control

Chapter 1/12 ☆ → Next chapter

☆ You can find me over on A03 as Cha0ticBi ☆ Master list link! ☆

The warmth was just starting to return to Hawkins, Indiana. Flowers budding on the edges of tree branches, squirrels and birds returning from their winter hideaway, and schools geared up with anticipation for a much needed holiday. You were a 2nd grade teacher at Hawkins Elementary School and loved your job. This was your fifth year teaching and you couldn’t imagine doing anything else. There was a certain earned authority that came with your job. Do it right and you earn the respect of students, other educators, and families in a community— and you were damn good at your job. Earning teacher of the year for your district in just your third year!

Sometimes though you needed a break, was it frowned upon as a teacher to have a life outside your job? Well as much as you’d like to say no, society would say otherwise. You contemplated the unspoken rules and expectations held over you by a population who had no idea what it took to do your job everyday as you packed up and cleaned before heading out to begin your spring break.

Don’t drink, don’t smoke, don’t wear fitted clothing but don’t look like a slob, don’t have colored hair, don’t get tattoos. So many rules and restrictions are placed on a group of people that many other professions take for granted. Don’t have social media accounts. Don’t talk about your private life. The worst part? You’d think these expectations would only be enforced during the school day. But no. Be a good example of a model citizen even after the school bell rings. You never know when or where you might run into a student.

You laughed quietly to yourself as you turned the light switch off and headed to your car. Of course good teachers wanted to instill a sense of responsibility in their students! Of course they don’t want them running out and imitating the less than healthy choices you and many other adults choose to indulge in. Your job is to set a good example and give them the knowledge they need to make sound, informed choices. But your life outside of your profession was no one’s business but your own.

Some of the freakiest people you knew were teachers. Behind closed doors teachers are just like any other person. They have desires, needs, wants, and predilections for things some might even consider so far outside the societal norms. Yours was kinky sex. Like really kinky sex. Being the boss all day sucked. At home you needed a partner who helped you relax…some people do yoga or cook, why were you weird if you needed to be spanked and called a good little slut instead?

As you drove home you got a phone call from Robin, “Hey Robin, what’s up?”

“Are you finally free of the hellfire spawns?”

“Leaving the gates of hell now!” You laughed, keeping your eyes on the road as you spoke to the speaker of your phone, “You know they really aren’t that bad…sometimes!”

“I’ll have to take your word for it. Anyways, I know you don’t have plans so I’m coming to snatch you up around 8. A bunch of us are going to see this guy we know from high school’s band play at The Hideout tonight.”

You moved to Hawkins from Indianapolis a year ago when you got your current job, meeting Robin and Steve one night by chance shortly after arriving, “I didn’t know Steve was in a band?” She cackled through the speaker.

“Can you even imagine Steve in a band? His ego is big enough as it is. No you’ve never met this guy but he’s single!”

“Will you ever stop trying to set me up with people you went to school with?” You teased her even though you knew full well it would take zero convincing for her to get you to come out tonight! After today? You needed a drink.

“If it’s not Steve, who is it?”

“His name is Eddie. He’s kind of a weird stoner nerd boy who still plays dungeons and dragons, but he’s a really nice guy, super sweet and always good for a laugh. Obviously I’m no authority but I’m also told he’s cute.”

“Yeah I’m in! I could use a night out. I’ll see you soon!” The phone clicked off as you pulled into the parking lot.

You and your cat Ozzy acknowledged each other’s existence as you entered your small apartment. You showered and put on some music while you finished getting ready. Looking at yourself in the mirror you turned and twisted admiring the shape the tight ripped black jeans gave your ass. Rolling the sleeves on your black blazer, you showed off the tattoos on both your forearms. An old, worn Van Halen t-shirt underneath. Your hair was styled in wild curls and you felt like Olivia Newton-John at the end of Grease. Who knows? Maybe this Eddie will be just what you’re looking for. You grab your bag and head back out the door to smoke before Robin gets here. The sun was beginning to set when her car pulled into the parking lot.

“Ugh gross, why do you do that?” You had only been out there a short while before she arrived, she grabbed the cigarette from your hand and threw it in a nearby trash can.

“Hey, those things are expensive!” You complain while getting in her passenger seat.

“I’m pretty sure Eddie still smokes too, he sold weed in high school so look! You’re already getting along and you haven’t even met!”

You laugh, “Why is this such a big deal to you? If he’s cute I probably would have tried to talk to him on my own anyways. What does he play?”

“He’s the guitarist and he sings, but I haven’t even told you the best part yet!” She grinned, eyes flashing between you and the road, “You remember that night about a month ago when you got drunk and told all of us about your wild and crazy fantasies ?”

A tightness constricted your chest as you remember that moment of pure embarrassment, “I’d like not to, but what about it?”

“Well let’s just say you and Eddie have more in common than you might think.”

“What the hell does that mean Robin?” You laughed.

“I already promised I wouldn’t ruin the surprise.”

Robin doesn’t give you a chance to question further by quickly changing the subject to talk about the conquests of her own love life as you continue the drive. She’s been pining over a regular customer at the video store where she works, which despite closing at a record pace all over the country somehow your local Family Video is still alive and kicking. You guess that it has something to do with the staff and their customer service skills. Everytime you're there visiting, Steve makes it his personal mission to help each and every customer. Babes and non babes alike as he so eloquently put it. You listen and try to be supportive but you can’t help wondering more about this Eddie as you reach your destination.

The bar they were playing at was the very same one you visited on a whim right after moving here. That was the night you met Robin and Steve. Robin had dared Steve to go talk to you and even though he showed you a good time and his flirtatious nature was definitely endearing, Steve just wasn’t what you were looking for in a partner. He was too sweet, like all the time. The two of you were still good friends though. The whole big group accepted you right in as if you’d always been there but this was the first you were hearing of Eddie the mysterious guitarist.

“So how is it I’ve never heard of this guy before?” You said to her as you grabbed your purse and walked into the bar.

“He’s been around. The past few months though they’ve been playing shows around the state and even into Illinois and Michigan.”

As you enter the busy bar, you squeeze past people looking for Steve. You have to admit that while it didn’t work out between the two of you he’s got really nice hair. You spot that lovely quaff in the crowd finally, finding him surrounded by a gaggle of kids. In reality they are all just about 5 years younger than you but at 28, they still feel like kids. They all greet you and go back to their conversations.

“Robin, I'm going to go order a drink,” she nods and asks you to get her something fruity.

You lean causally against the bar with your elbows naturally pushing your chest together. The bartender comes up and you order a long island iced tea for yourself and a tequila sunrise for Robin. He nods with a smile before getting started. You turn around to wait and find yourself face to face with a faded Metallica logo.

“Hi there,” the most sensual voice you’d ever heard in your life spoke to you.

Your eyes traveled up, following the curves of this man’s wide shoulders. He looks like something straight out of 1986. His long brown curls held back by a black bandana. A black leather jacket beneath a denim battle vest covered in patches and pins. You feel your lips pull apart and quiver at the sight of this man’s smirk. He is looking down at you like a hungry lion would stalk a grazing gazelle from across the savannah. The intimidating energy he is giving off naturally encourages you to lean back against the bar and put your hands up to support your weight, “Hello.”

He raises a brow at you with a curious smile. You watch as his eyes flick to your right and he grabs the drinks that were sitting there sweating on their coasters. He holds them out to you.

“I believe these belong to you,” you blink a few times and regain your composure as you slowly take both glasses from his thick ringed fingers.

“Well thank you sir, love the shirt,” you gesture towards his chest with your now occupied hand.

The grin on his face and the way he toys with his tongue on his top lip while looking down at you has you wondering where on earth this absolute demon of a man came from and who he was.

He respectfully looks at your chest and then back to your eyes, “You too. Are you by chance here for the band tonight?”

Oh shit, that’s right! Robin was trying to set you up with this, what’d she call him a weird stoner nerd boy? Well sorry Robin, mystery man here may have beaten him to it, “Yeah I am actually. You?”

The dark chuckle that escaped his lips had your stomach in knots as you already felt a rush of wetness leaking into your panties, “Yeah, I think you’ll like them. Their guitarist is really something.”

“I’ve heard,” you wanted to spend the rest of the night standing there talking to this man, “I uh- I should probably get back to my friends.” You hold up the drinks, “See you around?” You phrased it in a way that you hoped conveyed your obvious interest.

“See you around,” He leaned against the bar to order a drink of his own as you reluctantly slid your way through the many patrons back to Robin.

“Sorry, they were pretty busy up there, here!” You hand her the drink and you take a big gulp of your own. You can’t help but find yourself looking around for the mystery man. You couldn’t find him, but that wasn’t a surprise. This place was the busiest you’ve ever seen it. Robin notices you looking distracted and rubs your arm.

“You good?”

“Yeah I was just looking for…someone,” you speak as you continue to look around.

She eyes you suspiciously, “Ok now I know you’re acting weird. I know every person you talk to and from what you’ve told me I can’t imagine any of your lame ass coworkers in a place like this. Who could you possibly be looking for?”

“There was a cute guy over at the bar if you must know,” you took another sip of your drink.

“Yeah? And what did this cute guy look like?”

You tried to word your description in a way that didn’t make you sound like a total weirdo, lusting after a stranger’s voice and brown eyes, “He had long brown curly hair and a Metallica shirt on.” In one last attempt to spot him, you missed Steve laughing to himself and smacking the table top.

The lights dimmed and the growing crowd clapped. Robin got close to your ear and told you this was them! She made a point to remind you that you were supposed to be looking at the lead guitarist. You pouted, taking another sip of your drink, Oh well, maybe he left.

“Evening all you beautiful people!” That voice came through your ears but louder this time. You looked up and your jaw dropped open as the man from the bar stood on stage. What a little shit? The guitarist is really something. You thought to yourself, mocking him. He held a red guitar hanging in front of him speaking into the mic, “We’re Corroded Coffin! We’d like to start with a special cover song, dedicated to a brand new listener.” He eyed you and smirked. He laughed to himself and did that fucking thing with his tongue again. The drummer behind him started a beat and your heart skipped one. This man’s fingers moved expertly up and down the neck of his guitar as he laughed with the crowd and his bandmates as they recited the opening spoken lines. Before this incredibly good looking front man started singing.

Oh yeah, teacher stop that screamin'

Teacher don't you see? don't wanna be no uptown fool

Maybe I should go to hell but I am doing well

Teacher needs to see me after school

You were so fucked. You watched with hungry eyes as this man openly taunted you from up there on the stage. Did he know you already? Did Robin tell him about you? What else did she tell him? He scarcely took his eyes off you the entire time, even when fucking Hot for Teacher ended and they started playing original work. He had you captivated and practically drooling on that high top table. You felt your face flush and you weren't even trying to hide the effect this stranger was having on you.

Their set ended and he gave his closing words to the audience, “You’ve been great! Thank you as always Hawkins! We love you…Now if you’ll excuse me,” this man had the fucking audacity to wink at you, “Class dismissed.”

The crowd laughed and cheered for them. For the first time since they began playing you heard Robin’s voice, “So I believe you said he was cute?”

“Cute? He’s fucking gorgeous! Did you tell him I was a teacher? I think he was staring at me the whole time.”

She shrugged her shoulders, “Guilty! And sweetie the whole damn bar knows he was staring at you.”

The music playing over the bar speakers resumed. Conversations overlapped one another as you felt your heartbeat return to normal only to quickly spike again. Dustin waved, alerting your position to him as he and the rest of the band had emerged from backstage. He looked sweaty but somehow that made you more horny. You slammed the rest of your drink just in time for him to see you set the empty glass of ice down with a thud.

“So what’d you think of the guitarist?” he leaned on the table taking his beer to his mouth.

You were so thankful for the perfect amount of liquor running through you at that moment because it gave you just enough courage to flirt back, “He was pretty cocky but he looks like he’d show me a good time.” Steve snorted while the rest of the table couldn’t believe what they just heard and were kinda oblivious to the whole situation. He pushed the beer towards Dustin and patted him on the back.

“Well kid it’s been great catching up with you but you heard the lady,” he sauntered over to the other side of the group to meet you and offered you his hand. You looked at Robin and mouthed a big Thank you! Taking his hand, the two of you pressed through the crowd and right out the door. Leaving all of your friends utterly speechless.

The quiet cool night air was a welcome relief from the atmosphere of the bar. Your pace slowed as the two of you meandered through the parking lot, “So teach, Harrington tells me that we might share a mutual interest and judging from your reaction to my performance, I’d take a shot in the dark and say he’s right.”

Curse your past drunken self. Secretly you had hoped that both of them would forget about your alcohol induced confessions but hey, if it leads to something good, maybe it was a blessing in disguise. You wanted to make sure you were both on the same page, “Mutual interests you say? Just what did Steve tell you?”

“He said that you might be interested in,” he clicked his tongue, “my dominant personality.” He definitely moved closer to you as he spoke, “And that my experience was just what you are looking for when it comes to matters of the bedroom.”

“Well considering I had you on edge just by calling you sir at the bar, I’d say so.”

“Oh you had me on edge did you? How’d you like my little surprise on stage?”

You blushed, “You definitely surprised me.”

“I thought Robin had ruined it when I saw your shirt.”

“No, I guess I’m just partial to hot guys named Eddie,” You leaned in closer to him. He smelled like sweat and tobacco. It was fucking with your brain. You’ve never wanted someone so badly.

“You’re too kind sweetheart,” he winced as if he scolded himself in his head, “Sorry, before we go any further I think we should have a grown up conversation.” You smiled and nodded.

He led you to his van and opened the door for you, “Such a gentleman.”

“Only if you want me to be, fuck we need to get outta here before I break my own rules.”

The music blasting from his speakers as he started the engine helped distract both of you while he drove to his destination. You should have scolded yourself for being so reckless and getting in a rickety old 80s murder van with a complete stranger but it’s fine right? He’s Robin and Steve’s friend. You had no idea where he was taking you but eventually you pulled into a trailer park and stopped in front of what you could only assume to be his home.

He opened the front door for you as you walked up the steps, “Welcome to my castle. Can I get you anything to drink while we talk? No more alcohol, we need clear minds for this.”

“Ice water please.”

“Coming right up,” he cracks an ice tray and brings you your drink before sitting across from you, “So as I said, Stevie and I are pretty good friends and he mentioned that we share certain… preferences in the bedroom department. Could you tell me about that?”

You swallow your sip of water and blush, “Well as you already know obviously, I’m a teacher and being in charge all day kinda gets old after a while. I’m looking for someone to take away my control for a while.”

“You need someone to tell you what to do?” He leaned his elbows on his knees and stared at you from a chair across the room, the old carpeting creating an ocean of unspoken wanton desire between you.

You nod, “Yes, do you think you could handle me?”

He laughs, “First things first, we need to talk about safety and limits. Have you ever been with a dominant before? Or had this sort of relationship?”

“No,” you pout, “I’ve brought it up to previous partners and they’ve tried their best but it was never enough if that makes sense. They couldn’t give me the feeling I was looking for.”

“And what feeling is that exactly?” He wonders.

You tried to remember your research, “I want to be put into subspace. I’ve read about how good it feels to surrender completely and totally to the point your brain flips that switch and all you can think about is your dom and the pleasure they are giving you. Your whole purpose in life becomes pleasing them. I want all those little distractions or random thoughts that might pop into my head to disappear.”

“Wow you’ve done your homework teach,” he laughs at his own joke, “That was beautifully articulated. I can give you that if it’s what you want.”

“Do you have any experience with this lifestyle?” You suspected that he did just based on his attention to details so far.

“I do,” you waited for him to elaborate but he only followed up that curt response with, “Don’t worry you’ll be safe with me if we decide to make this arrangement more permanent. Do you have any hard limits you’re already aware you don’t like? Or soft limits of things you might like but you aren’t sure about?”

“Well hard limits, no bodily fluids? Except the obvious ones,” he stops you right there.

“For this to work you need to be very specific, which ones do you consider obvious?”

You blush again, “Cum? Vaginal fluids?”

He smiles, “There you go, that’s better. How do you think you’d feel about spit? It makes for great added lube and really helps sell the degradation if that’s your thing or I could spit in that pretty mouth of yours?”

You immediately love that image he’s created and stretch your arms out like a cat along the tops of your thighs, “Yep, yes, yeah we can add spit too.”

He leans back in the chair and crosses one leg over the other and smirks, “Ok so we’ve covered fluids, any other hard limits?”

“No visible marks. I’m ok with non permanent marks that my clothing will hide but I still need to appear professional during the day,” you touch your chin and ponder other things you might not like, “No noncon play. Like even if I’m being a brat I still want to want it. No anal either.” He nodded, taking mental notes.

“Soft limits? Being ignored or left alone, I can only handle a short period of time if you decide to use the silent treatment. That’s all I can think of right now.”

He spoke so softly, “No worries, this is a process and if anything comes up in the moment we can talk about it and reevaluate. Now the fun part, what do you like? What really gets your motor running so to speak?”

Your legs squish together, thighs pressing tightly against one another, “I like being a brat, being degraded but also praised, impact play. I like the idea of public or semi public acts but I don’t know if I’d actually ever try them. More so just the fantasy of them,” you look at the rings on his hands, “choking, pet names, and feeling owned. I want my partner to be possessive. I’ve never done it before but I also like the concept of primal play.”

His eyes were wide listening to you, “You did so good sweetheart. One last thing, do you already have a safeword?”

“Marshmallow.”

He smiles and can’t hide his laughter, “That’s the cutest safeword I’ve ever heard. I love it! I’ll also use the traffic light to check in with you throughout a session, are you familiar with that?”

“Yes. What about you? Based on our conversation at the bar I’d guess you like titles...sir”

He smacks his knees, pushes himself up, and walks towards you, “You’d be correct sweetheart. Now, with all the formalities out of the way, time to face the consequences of that smart mouth of yours.”

“But sir you haven’t told me what gets your motor running yet. That’s not fair.”

“Listening to you spill your darkest desires so openly to a complete stranger is what gets me going. You’re going to be a fun new toy sweetheart, it's like you were made for me.” He continues stalking towards you as you sink into his couch. His hand reaches up and takes you by the throat. His strong grip massaging your neck. With his broad shoulders hovering over you, he takes up one foot onto the couch and presses it into the side of your leg while casually resting his other arm along his knee. Nonchalantly smiling down at you as if man handling your throat is the easiest thing in the world for him.

“Now as I was saying,” he added a little pressure pulling a sweet moan from your lips, “That’s quite a smart mouth you’ve got sweetheart.”

Your innocent voice is labored trying to speak around his grip, “But sir, you asked what I thought of the guitarist? I was only being truthful.”

“You knew exactly what you were doing, you almost made me break my own rules. I wanted to put you over my knee right there in that bar.”

You shrugged around his hand, “Sounds like you could learn some restraint, sir.”

“I’ll show you restraint smart ass,” he picked you up in an instant and threw you over his shoulder carrying you to his bed and tossing you on his mattress.

You eyed the hand cuffs and chains hanging from his wall, “Intrigued pretty girl? Maybe next time, if you behave,” He pulled his bandana from his back pocket, “Hands over your head.”

You squished your hands behind your back hiding them from him, “You think I’ll listen just because you tossed me like a sack of potatoes? It’ll take more than being strong to impress me tough guy.”

He shrugged, “Have it your way then.” He grabbed your hips and flipped you on your stomach and grabbed your arms before they could escape, “I would have tied you up in a less uncomfortable position but now you get arms behind your back,” he leaned down over you and kissed your ear, “What’s your color sweetheart?”

“Green sir, thank you.”

He lightly kissed your neck more, “Such a good girl for me, let’s see if you can keep it up. I might just reward you,” He wrapped the black fabric around and in between your wrists.

“I’m going to spank that beautiful ass of yours pretty girl,” he moved to the edge of the mattress, “Well? What are you waiting for? Get over here and put that ass in my lap.”

You wiggled like a snake right away from him, you didn’t make it far though. His hand grabbed your bound wrists and he pinned you beneath him, “You were doing so well sweetheart,” he swatted your ass, “Just earned yourself 5 more.”

He picked you up and brought you over his knee, your arms still behind your back. His hand rubbed your ass, “I think I’ll teach you a lesson by leaving your pants on, you don’t get my hand on your bare skin until you learn some manners.” He spanked you once, then twice.

He continued and you yawned into his mattress, “I thought this was a punishment? Let me know when you start.”

“You wanna repeat that princess?” His voice was dangerously calm as his hand circled your ass like a shark.

“Did I stutter?”

He swiftly maneuvered your body into the position of his choosing. Bringing your head closer to his face and whispering in your ear, “You can fight all you want slut, I always win.” He undid the bandana around your wrists, “Strip for me. Leave your bra and panties.”

You rolled your eyes at him. His hand immediately returned to your throat but the gentle massaging was gone, he pressed just right into the sides of your neck restricting blood flow. Leaving your head feeling fuzzy and floaty. You whimpered and whined at the sensation.

“Now I’ve been more than understanding sweetheart. I was going to spank you and then fuck that wet ass pussy, praising you for being my good girl but now you get a punishment. Either you take your clothes off or I will and trust me you won’t like how I do it.”

His hand on your neck relaxed and took some of the brat with it. You looked up at him through a few stray pieces of hair, “Yes sir.” You took off your pants and shirt like he ordered revealing more ink covering your skin as well as a matching set of lacy bra and panties. Once you finished, you put your hands behind your back, waiting patiently for him to replace the restraints.

“Look at you, you’re like a dream that keeps getting better and better,” with a kiss he hummed into your mouth at your more docile demeanor, “There’s my good girl. I knew she was in there somewhere. Do you want your wrists bound in front of you or behind you for your punishment?”

“In front sir,” you held your hands out for him and he replaced the bandana around your skin.

He took off his jacket and unzipped his jeans, pulling them to the floor revealing a thick bulge in his boxer briefs. He left you standing there as he sat back against the headboard of the bed, he held up a finger and curled it beckoning you to join him, “You’re going to ride my thigh until that pretty pussy can’t take anymore and you're begging for release. Only then will I even consider fucking you.”

His tone was intoxicating. You felt your desire to put up a fight disappear as you kneeled up onto the bed and over his thigh. Keeping your hands out in front of you and lowering yourself down, he smirked, “That’s better. Now, rock those hips back and forth as you grind on my thigh.”

As soon as you start to move your concealed wetness leaks out, soaking right through the fabric of your cotton panties and onto Eddie’s bare thigh, “Fuck you are soaked. You’ve barely moved and I can already feel you dripping onto my leg. Is that all it took, sweetheart? All you needed was for someone to remind you that at the end of the day you’re just a cock hungry slut. Answer me.”

“Yes!” your fingers grabbed into the shirt he was still wearing. Your eyes couldn’t decide if they wanted to be open or closed as you looked down at him with a smile, “Fuck! Yes Eddie, I’m just a cock hungry slut.”

“I know baby,” his hand reached over and squeezed your thigh drawing a long whine out, “I need to teach you some manners though. That wasn’t very nice what you said.”

Your mindless humping of his leg continued. The feel of his skin beneath you and the sound of his voice tethering you to reality, “I’m sorry sir! I didn’t mean it, your spanks felt really good. Please fuck me Eddie!”

He let out a pleased hum, “Atta girl. Just a little more and then maybe I’ll give you what you want. What’s your color sweet thing?”

You felt the muscles in your legs getting sore, “Y-yellow sir, legs getting tired.”

He slowly sat up and massaged them with his hands, “You’re doing such a great job for me. Ask me one more time and then I’ll fuck you.”

“Please fuck me Eddie! I feel so empty, I need your cock inside me.”

“I’ll take good care of you don’t you worry, lay back on the pillow for me.”

Relief washes over you as you stop moving and fall into the bed on your back. Your eyes close as you listen to the sounds of him adjusting position and ripping a condom wrapper open.

“Ahh!” A sudden cry fills the room as he rips your panties from your body.

“Open your legs for me,” his ringed fingers squeezed your thigh.

With the brattiness gone and desire to please him in its place you looked up at him as you spread your legs open. He had been exuding dominance all night, from the moment you unknowingly met him at the bar. But it hit a peak in this moment. His frame towering over you as he rubs his cock through the fabric, teasing you just a bit more before he finally takes pity on you and pulls it from its confines. Your audible gasp fuels his fire.

“You ready for me sweetheart?”

“Yes sir please! Please fuck my pussy,” Your bound hands clawed at you wet sex, spreading it apart to expose every inch to his hungry eyes.

He lined up the tip and pressed just a bit into the wet heat, “Like this pretty girl? Is this what you need?”

“More! God please Eddie, give me all of your cock!”

“Oh you mean like this?” With that he thrusted in all the way, drinking up all the screams and moans you set forth into the air, “I know you’re not that far gone yet that you can’t respond. Come on now, answer me.”

“Y-yes sir, that’s it! Thank you, thank you for your cock. You feel so good!”

“You feel good too, so fucking wet for me. I bet you were starting to get wet the moment I handed you your drinks,” even as he kept fucking you, maintaining a merciless rhythm, he kept taunting you with his words, “I could tell just from the look in your eyes that you’d be my pretty cock drunk slut. Tell me that’s what you are, let me hear you say it.”

Responding to him was getting harder, “I’m your cock drunk slut sir!”

“You’re almost there, I can see it. Soon you won’t be able to even speak because all that will come out of that smart mouth is little whimpers,” he leaned in closer, “And I love it.”

A wave of arousal washed over you as you came with his words, “F-fuck Eddie I’m coming.”

“Come you messy thing, come all over my cock.”

You heard yourself make noises you’d never heard before. His thrusts faltered for a moment and you could feel him getting closer. As much as you wanted to help him along by begging more every time you opened your mouth you cried out with a moan. You looked up into those soft brown eyes and smiled before throwing your head back and pulling your arms up over your head.

“Shit I’m gonna come, keep making those noises for me sweetheart. That’s it! Fuck!”

His groans as he pressed deeper inside you sent a second orgasm spiraling through you. Every nerve in your body slouched as he pulled out. You were only vaguely aware of his hands uniting your binds and lifting you up against the pillows.

“I’m going to go grab you some more water, do you need anything else?” you shook your head. “I’ll be right back,” you nodded lightly and closed your eyes, not wanting the warm feeling in your stomach to disappear, “Here sit up and drink. How did that feel?”

You listened without hesitation, finishing the water and looking over at him where he sat next to you, ��That was incredible Eddie. Thank you.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself, did you get that feeling you were looking for?”

You leaned into his shoulder and cuddled up to him, “I think so, at least for a moment or two.” As your head started to clear you fumbled to add, “Is this ok, the cuddling I mean.”

“More than you know.” He wrapped an arm around you, “So now that you’ve been with a dom, is there anything you’d want to change? Did I do anything that you didn’t like? Please be honest with me because I felt like I got a little carried away there for a second.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #18+ content #mean dom Eddie munson #dom eddie munson #sub eddie munson #dom reader #sub reader #dom/sub fanfic

53 notes · View notes