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ghostboneswrites2 · 18 hours

Note

Could you maybe write something about Daryl with a reader who’s similar to him and has also experienced physical abuse from their father and they just comfort each other and bond over their scars please

Reminders

Note: My laptop cord broke so forgive any formatting errors :( I toyed with a. Few ideas for this but settled on prison era Daryl with non established relationship fem reader. Def some chemistry, but nothing established. Enjoy!

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, light profanity

Daryl squinted in the sun as he chewed on a freshly picked tomato from the garden. The prison yard was busy, buzzing with activity as people focused on their tasks and socialized amongst themselves. He watched them, studied them. It was new territory for him to feel so important yet so alienated at the same time. Sure, the alienation was mostly his own doing, as he wasn’t much of a social butterfly. He considered himself to be more of a moth, fluttering around on his own in the dark, avoiding the sun. Still, with so many people relying on him and admiring him, it felt unnatural to just walk up to somebody and chat about mundane things as if the world were still turning at its normal pace.

Then, his eyes found you. He never knew what to make of you. You were new — even fresher than the ex-Wooburians. He was the one who found you alone in the forest, yet he had never had a full conversation with you. You were timid and rough on the exterior, never keeping eye contact with anyone unless the sole purpose was intimidation. They almost didn’t let you stick around. It wasn’t until you had a one-on-one with Hershel, where he found you were not all bad, that he talked the rest of the council into keeping you around.

You proved yourself pretty useful, too. You knew a thing or two about gardening crops, you were good with knives and guns, and you were fast. You were never afraid to do what needed to be done, even if it put your own life at risk. You were sent on a lot of runs for that purpose. With people like you and Daryl out on those runs, casualties were few if any. You were both natural protectors.

Some of the kids had taking a liking to you, namely Carl and Mika. You liked them, too, if for different reasons. Carl was strong, and he had an understanding for the world and it’s workings. He impressed you. Mika was sweet, and even if she seemed to sweet for the world, you knew there was a part of her that had potential. She was sure to figure things out, maybe even kick some serious ass one day.

All that aside, Daryl couldn’t read you. Or, maybe he could, and that was the problem. He wasn’t willing to accept how similar the two of you may have been. Hell, he had barely accepted that maybe, somewhere inside him, he was as good as any of these people chattering around him.

“Stare any harder and you’ll melt a hole through her head.” Carol’s voice pulled his gaze away from you. He glared at her.

“Wha’d’ya mean?”

“Oh, come on. You’ve been watching her every move this morning.” She nudged her shoulder against his. “Why don’t you just go talk to her?”

“Hm.” He grunted with a shrug. “Ain’t like that.”

“Why not? She’s cute.” Carol persisted. “She’s like you, but pretty. You’d get along.” She teased.

“Pfft.” He tutted. “She ain’t like me.”

“Whatever.” She chuckled.

Days would go by where he’d watch you from a distance in between his own tasks. It wasn’t that you didn’t notice or feel his eyes dancing over your skin. It was just that you didn’t know how to react or respond. Daryl wasn’t an ugly man by any stretch of the imagination, and unlike him, you could read him all too well because there was something about him that you recognized in yourself and you were willing to accept that similarity.

You snuck your glances in, too. You’d watch from the corner of your eye as his hands gripped the steering wheel on a run, or you’d allow your vision to follow him as he stalked through the gates and into the trees to hunt. You often wondered if he really cared to hunt or if he just wanted to get away. Probably both.

All in all, it was a sad case of two idiots who couldn’t see past their own insecurities and fears far enough to make a move. And it stayed that way, longer than it should have.

One night, when the air was particularly hot and thick with humidity, and he got tired of flipping around on his cot trying to find a cool spot on the sheet, Daryl went outside for a smoke. The prison was fast asleep, save for him, and apparently you. He was about halfway through his cigarette when he noticed a small orange light on the other side of the yard. It would move up and down every so often. He quickly realized it was the cherry of another cigarette.

He couldn’t make out who it was in the darkness, nor could he think of anyone else he’d ever seen smoking. So, he strolled across the grounds and decided to make himself known, so that the other smoker could be known to him. Somehow he was shocked to know it was you.

“Hey.” Your soft voice said casually, not offering even a glance in his direction. You were leaning one shoulder against the chain link fence, watching the quiet forest on the other side.

“Didn’t know ya smoked.” He commented, gluing his eyes to the tree line as well.

“Found the ones I like on our last run. Had to grab ‘em.” You shrugged, taking a long drag and enjoying the cooling menthol as it coated your throat.

“Which ones?” He asked. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

Instead of telling him, you just held up the pack.

“Didn’t take ya for the menthol type.” He mumbled. You sent a quick glance his way.

“What kind would you take me for, then?” You wondered.

“Mm-mm.” He shrugged. “Marlboros. The gold pack.”

“Ew.” You chuckled. “I’m a Camel Crush girl, through and through. You?”

“Don’t matter.” He admitted. “Just the strong ones.”

You nodded and hummed and allowed the silence to creep in. You two stood that way for a few minutes, the only sounds being the noises of puffing and exhaling over a symphony of crickets and night critters.

“Why Crush?” He finally asked. “Why not just menthol?”

“I like having choices.” You said simply.

A slight breeze picked up and chilled your sweaty skin. You wore nothing but a tank and shorts, given the boiling temperatures inside. You ran a hand over your arm to combat the chill. His eyes instinctively flickered to the movement and focused on your hand first, then the flesh beneath. Where he expected to find smooth skin, he instead found a rough terrain of keloid scars.

He had never noticed them before because your sleeves always covered them.

“What happened?” He asked.

“What?” You looked over to him and realized he was looking at your arms. Your hand impulsively moved and covered the ugly reminders of your past. “Oh. Nothing good.” You said vaguely.

“Mm.” He nodded, wondering if it was the same kind of bad things that left him with his own scars.

“Shit.” You mumbled, realizing that small gust of wind blew the cherry off your cigarette. “Got a light? I used my last match for this.”

Wordlessly, he dug in his pocket and handed you his zippo. You lit your cigarette back up and passed his lighter back. More silence followed before he broke it again.

“Was it your mom or your dad?” He bravely questioned.

Your eyes darted to him harshly, but they softened. You considering not answering him, but decided there wasn’t much of a reason not to.

“Neither. It was my step dad.” You confessed.

“My dad was a dick too.” He related.

“Mine wasn’t. His replacement was.” You sighed.

“Mm. Merle — my brother — usually just ran away.”

“From what?”

“My dad.” He said quietly.

“Was your dad like my step-dad?” You asked.

“Mm.” He nodded.

“What was his poison?”

“Whiskey.”

“Oh. Mine liked meth.” You admitted. “Must be a stepdad thing.”

“Nah.” He shook his head. “Just an asshole thing.”

“Sounds right.” You huffed a fry laugh. “Your daddy mark you up like me?”

“Why?”

“How else would you know someone else did this to me?”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” You sympathized the best you could.

“Don’t matter. It’s in the past.”

“Yeah, I tell myself that, too, but… It’s hard to leave the past where it belongs when you’re covered in reminders. Tryin’ to hide ‘em all the damn time.”

“Yeah.” He agreed. “Maybe they’re just there to remind us we survived.”

You held onto his sentiments, toying with the phrase, spinning it around in your mind and locking it into memory.

“One way to put it, I suppose.”

“It’s the only way to put it. Only way to move on.” He argued. You took the last drag off your smoke before tossing it. Your eyes caught his and stayed there for some time before you offered a soft smile.

“See ya around, Dixon.”

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl x you #daryl x y/n #request

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fuck-customers · 2 days

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I work corporate IT now, switched from customer service, but so many of the skills I learned in customer service are unfortunately useful. Like for people who have thick skulls.

A person was having a login issue yesterday. Those are pretty easy - usually they’re just entering in the wrong thing. But it was a phone call and we kept getting disconnected. And the disconnect kept happening before I knew which laptop she was using so i could remote into it. Finally we got a connection long enough to learn which laptop it was. I kept telling her “on the underside of the laptop there’s a label that says which laptop this is.” “But I can’t get into the laptop to tell you!” “Its on the bottom of the laptop!” “Oh, hang on.” Like i hadnt said “underside” several times. But I finally got which laptop it was before we got disconnected again. I’m trying to contact back while I can see her continue to enter in the wrong thing while trying to log in.

Finally, i use our remote access software to cut off her inputs and login to a shared account that we maintain for purposes such as this. I open notepad and leave a note, all the while i know she’s watching. “This is your username, the password you use is the same for your email, that’s all you need to enter. I’m going to turn your keyboard back on so you can login.” And did so.

She closed notepad and didn’t log out of the shared account. Went to go find her emails. There’s a message option with the remote software that I seldom use - it’s easy to ignore and I find notepad much easier. So I use the message option to say “this isn’t your account, none of your stuff is here.” I typed like four messages and she closed the window every time. Now, I’m the kind of person who won’t give you any more help than you ask for, and she was continually closing out my help, so I’m like “fine, deal with it yourself, if you need me you know where I am”, and closed my connection.

A short while later, she called back. “I’m logged in but my emails aren’t here.” Which. Yeah. I told you. You closed my messages. Which i say as politely as possible, but I can tell she’s getting irritated too. Which I get but that is not my fault. I say “Let me drive,” which is what we say to tell the user, “I’ve got this, I’ll show you.” She kept moving the mouse. “You’re not letting me drive, (name.)” With an annoyed tone she stopped doing things (possibly because I turned off user inputs again.) I went to the login screen, entered in her username. Had to reset her password which isn’t uncommon, and she set it back to what it was supposed to be. And we got in.

She then said “i don’t know how but I’m in.” Excuse me, you don’t know how? I walked you through everything i did in plain English. Flabbergasted, i said “that was me. I did that.” Never so glad to get an issue over with.

I would think by that point it's more about her being lonely and wanting to talk to someone than about her actually needing help to log in.

Unless she can't read. There was a guy I worked with at the depot of offices that said when he worked tech support in the 80's he was on the phone with a guy for his whole shift because they had to go over everything one letter at a time because the guy didn't know how to read. My co worker said he was getting frustrated because he thought the guy was being difficult purpose and once he understood what the issue was it went a lot easier.

-Rodney

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musings-of-a-rose · 20 hours

Text

I Don't Want to See Tomorrow (Unless I See It With You) - Chapter 1

Pairing: Benny Miller x f!reader nicknamed "Juni"

Word Count: 3600+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story.

Notes: I've had this idea in my head for well over a year and with the Fallout show being dropped (and absolutely AMAZING), I figured now was the time to post it! So this is a Triple Frontier/Fallout crossover au. Huge shoutout to @mermaidxatxheart for listening to probably hours of audio at this point of me talking myself through this fic. And to @deathbecomesnerds for listening to me prattle on about video game fics and giving me her own advice.

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❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Benny Miller Masterlist

I Don't Want to See Tomorrow (Unless I See It With You) Masterlist

May, 2067

"We're so proud of you, honey!" My mom hugs me tight, my cap nearly sliding off my head with the force of it.

"We knew you'd get top marks!" My dad claps me on the back and pulls me in for another tight hug, my cap fully falling from my head this time.

"Thanks, Dad." My mom hands me back my graduation cap and I put it back on my head, attempting to get it to stay put as I look out over the crowd of people.

"There's my favorite graduate."

I spin, nearly falling over in my heels but Benny catches me, chuckling as I right myself. His smile is wide and bright, but there's something else. I can't quite place it.

"What a coincidence. My favorite graduate is here too," I bop him on the nose and he chuckles again. He moves to kiss me but then his eyes shift over my shoulder and he backs up, clearing his throat, no doubt having made eye contact with my dad.

"Ben, will you be joining us for dinner?" My mom asks.

"Uh, sure. Save me a seat."

My mom squeezes my shoulder. "We'll see you at dinner, honey."

I give them each a hug before they leave, turning back to Benny. He immediately pulls me to him, kissing me deeply before pulling back.

"Can I take you somewhere?"

"I'll go anywhere with you, Benny."

He takes my hand, so small in his large one, and leads me through the crowd to his old truck. He opens the door for me and helps me in before hopping in the driver's seat. I scoot next to him and lay my head on his shoulder, Benny laying his arm across the back of the seat. We drive for a bit before turning into our neighborhood and pulling into the empty park. We get out and he takes my hand, pulling me towards a juniper tree that was in a field next to the playground. He pulls me to him and kisses me again, my cap long since forgotten in the cab of his truck.

"Why are we here, Benny?"

"Don't you remember this tree, Juni?"

I smile up at him as I glance at the tree. "How could I forget? We met under this tree shortly after I moved here. It's why you call me Juni. Like juniper." I gesture at the tree.

He smiles at the memory. "We were what...5?"

"Yeah. Such a long time ago. Now look at us. 18 and heading to college."

There's an awkward silence and I look up at him. "Benny?"

He rubs the back of his neck, not quite looking at me. "About college."

I step back from him. "You're not going through with the sign up, are you??"

He holds his hands out, trying to placate me. "Look. Will is already there. He flew through basic and they're putting him in a special force if he keeps it up-"

"There's a war, Benny-"

"Exactly. And I know we aren't there yet, but we both know there will be a draft eventually-"

"You don't know that!"

"And if I sign up voluntarily, I get some say in where I go. I'm a way better shot than Will so I think I can make it into his-"

"No. No! I can't...I don't....I'll go with you!" I'm fighting back tears, my voice catching in my throat.

Benny shakes his head. "No, sweetheart. You need to go to college. You're too smart. Get that masters in..what was it...bio-nuclear agriculture practices? Sciences?"

I shake my head. "I don't care. I want to be with you! Unless...do you not-"

Benny's face becomes serious. He cups my face and forces me to look at him, his eyes so bright but worried. "Don't think that I don't want you. I do. I want you forever and always. But I have to do this. I have to get ahead of it. This way, I can watch Will's back too."

My tears break free, sliding down my cheeks. "I'm scared, Benny. I can't lose you."

"You won't lose me."

"You'll find some other girl and...and..." Benny cuts me off with a kiss, my tears rubbing off onto his face. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a simple, plain gold band. Not too thick.

"Benny?"

"Look, I'm not forcing anything on you. I can't do that to you, especially signing up for the army. But I did make this promise ring. And, in a few years when you're all graduated, if you still want to, I'll add a rock to it and we'll get married."

I hold the small band in my palm, touching it with my fingers before looking back up at him.

"This was not the best proposal," he chuckles and I do too, despite everything.

"It wasn't a proposal. It's a promise. How about you promise to come home to me in one piece?"

"I can promise to try my best."

I nod. "I'll take it."

Benny slides the band onto my finger and pulls out a thicker band from his pocket and hands it to me. I slide it onto his finger, winding his hand in mine and for a moment, we both just stare at our hands, feeling the weight of our futures.

"When you get your own power armor, make sure to send me a photo!"

Benny smiles. "Fuck yeah I will!"

10 years later...

Benny and I had stayed faithful to each other over the last 10 years. My friends never understood why I didn't want to go out partying, dating around. "He said he didn't hold you to anything!" They'd complain. But I would just shake my head. Benny holds all of me, always has, since the day we met under that juniper tree. He took one look at my scared face, alone in this new neighborhood, and took my hand, told me everything would be ok and that we were friends now.

He'd have to be the one to leave because I never would.

We met up over the years, sometimes being lucky his off time would line up with mine. We'd make the most of our time together, Benny preferring to spend as much time as possible between my thighs and I wasn't going to complain about that. But every time we talked about adding a rock to the band, his face would get worried. He said things were heating up with the war and he didn't want me tied down if something happened to him. I told him ring or no, I was already tethered to him.

Then, about 3 years ago, he told me he was saving up for that rock. That it would take him some time. I didn't care how long as we were already married in my mind. Our times together became less and less as the Sino-American War waged on, both sides at a stalemate.

Then finally, in May of 2078, a few weeks after I graduated from Vault-Tec University with my Masters in Bio-fusion Agriculture, Benny knocked on my front door, already on one knee when I answered it holding up a beautiful diamond ring in exactly my style. Once he slid the ring on my finger, I pulled him inside, not making it past the front entrance way before we were tearing each other's clothes off, Benny burying himself inside of me as I try to not slide across the floor.

We were married that same night.

He had to leave a few days later, but we made good use of our time together.

2077

Around late August, Vault-Tec moved my research lab from the city proper to a smaller research lab just outside the city. It worked out fairly well as it was stationed near the vault that was basically up the hill from my parent's suburban home. The one I grew up in. I liked being out of the city. There were less soldiers here, people were stressed still but it wasn't as violent.

The beginning of October rolled in, bringing cooler weather and the start of my favorite season. Morale, as a country, was low, so people took to decorating for Halloween early, the decorations helping people to smile a little more. But nothing put a smile on my face like Benny showing back up, his entire unit, including his brother Will and their other "brothers" Frankie, Santi, and Tom, all returning to their homes.

We spent a couple weeks together before the phone rang in the middle of the night. Benny yawns, picking it up with a grunt, his back immediately straightening out at whomever was on the other end. All I heard was "Yes, Sir," before he hung up.

"You're leaving?" I ask, grazing my fingers across his bare back.

"Yeah," he turns, pulling down the comforter to reveal my bare chest, his finger tracing lines around my breasts, my nipples hardening at the touch. "But not for long. They just want us to escort a higher up when they visit Boston."

"Sounds serious."

He nods, his hand sliding lower, under the covers and pressing between my thighs. "It is. Very serious."

"So..d-do you have t-to leave?" It was hard to focus, the pressure between my legs building the longer he caresses me.

He leans in close, kisses me softly. "Not before I make love to my wife."

He leaves about an hour later, my inner thighs sticky with him, my heart racing not with bliss but with worry that he won't return.

October 23rd, 2077

I wake to birds singing outside my bedroom window, ringing in a beautiful Saturday morning. I roll out of bed, get ready for the day before heading over to my parent's house to stop in for a surprise breakfast. However, my parents were gone, headed into Boston for an appointment, according to our Mr. Handy robot, Hawthorne. In the meantime, the robot had made me breakfast, which I sat and ate, looking at the newspaper but not really taking it in.

I get bored of the paper and set it aside, flipping on the tv, hoping to catch something interesting. I really miss Benny. His absence this week has been weighing heavily on me.

"...followed by flashes, blinding flashes, sounds of explosions. We're trying to get confirmation but we seem to have lost contact with our affiliate stations. We do have coming in, that's uh...confirmed reports, I repeat, confirmed reports of nuclear detinations in New York and Pennslyvania. My God-"

The TV cuts out and I sit there, momentarily stunned at what the news anchor just reported. Nucelar explosions? That can't be right. But then the siren rings, it's high pitched wail sending goosebumps across my skin.

"Ma'am, I think you need to head to the Vault," Hawthorne advises.

I shake my head to snap out of it, quickly running for the door. When I get outside, soldiers are already in the streets, the vertibirds flying towards Boston.

"...If you are registered, head to Vault 111 immediately!" A soldier yells through a megaphone as my neighbors run screaming in the street, some towards the path that will take them to the vault. Others stay in their driveways, cowering in fear.

Someone pushes past me and I fall, scraping my palms on the pavement. I scramble up, just making it to my feet before someone else collides into me, yelling at me to move my ass. I take one last look around and run to the vault, my bare feet thudding across the dirt path.

I pass neighbors with trunks of clothes scattered everywhere, the husband pleading with the wife to leave everything and just run. My heart is nearly beating through my chest as I make my way up the hill, a small crowd gathered in front of the gate to Vault 111. An angry crowd, yelling over the loud wail of the siren and the whoosh of the vertibird propellers.

"If you're not on the list, you're not getting in!" An official looking man yells at a couple who is standing in front of him, the man shifting his weight to his back foot.

"I'm getting in there!" He starts to move forward, but then the high pitched whine of a mini gun starts up, the soldier in power armor, standing at least a foot over the man, pointing it at him.

"Ok, ok, fine!" The man puts his hands in the air and stands aside, his wife following.

The crowd starts to push together, but I force my way through them, yelling to the soldier.

"I'm on the list!"

"Back away! Back away!" The power armored soldier aims again and the people back away, but only a couple of feet. The uniformed soldier looks down at me, clip board in hand.

"Name?"

"Miller." I give him my first name as well as Benny's and his rank.

"Ben Miller's wife? Head on in. Quick!" He waves me through, but I pause for a moment.

"Do you know where he is?"

"No ma'am. Now please, head inside!"

I look out at the crowd of people, now trying to shove each other to get inside, the gate starting to groan with their press. But the one face I want to see, Benny's, is nowhere to be seen.

I'm sure he's ok. I mean, he's a soldier, in an elite group. He's just guarding some fancy higher up in Boston. I'm sure this is just a precaution. I turn my back on my neighbors and run, as fast as I can, to the platform. Another soldier waves me over and points to the platform, where I stand between some neighbors with a baby and the Hendersons, the people who live across the street from my parents.

My parents. They're on the vault list too. Maybe they got into one nearer to Boston? Is that even how this works?

"Almost there!" One of the other people shouts as we wait to be lowered into the vault. I look out over the tree tops from our place on the hill, the Boston skyline gleaming in the distance, my heart hurting that Benny isn't here with me. I'm sure it's nothing, but I'm still terrified.

BOOM!

The ground shakes violently. My eyes reflect the mushroom cloud that explodes over Boston, it's dome slowly floating up into the sky as its sounds reverberate through my body. I can't help the scream erupting in my throat as a violent wind comes whooshing at us a moment later, the city already in flames. The ground below me moves, lowering us into the vault. We all duck just in time, the wind and fire flowing over the space we took up moments before, the whole cement tube rumbling and shuddering with the force of the detonation. For what seems like an eternity, we're in pitch black darkness, the creaking of the pullies lowering us and the sounds of our own whimpers and whispers, the baby crying our only sounds to accompany us down into the vault.

Then light appears as we settle into place, our platform locking in. The gate in front of us opens and a man in a lab coat beckons us forward from the end of the ramp.

"Welcome to Vault 111! Step this way for registration."

"What happened to all of those people up there?" Someone asked.

"Please, let's just get you registered, and through decontamination, and then we can address all your concerns!" Labcoat offers as he gestures towards a woman in a bright blue jumpsuit, yellow stripes down the middle and around the hips like a belt, giant yellow numbers on the back that say 111.

"They're all dead, you idiot. That was a nuclear bomb!" Someone else replied.

"No it wasn't. I bet that was just a trial. This is all practice." He argues back.

"That heat didn't feel fake," someone else pipes up.

Gone. They're all gone. Benny...No. No, I'm sure he's safe, made it to his own vault. All those fancy rich people had vaults. I'm sure he made it in time and I can contact him once I get checked in. I'm sure the vaults all have a way to communicate with each other. Right?

I take a shaky step forward, wiping the tears from my cheeks, willing them to stop for at least check in. I head to the lady Labcoat indicated and she smiles warmly at me. I give her my name and she runs a finger down her list, tapping on what I presume is my name.

"There you are. Mrs. Miller, female. Is your husband-" she glances back down at the list. "-Benjamin, here?" She looks back up at me, a soft, friendly smile on her face, which falters as she looks at me.

"I...he...he was on a m-mission wi-with..."I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "My husband is Lieutenant Benjamin Miller. He's in Delta Force. He and his squad were guarding some higher up when....do...do you have any...I mean, do you know..." I can barely choke out words, my mind on Benny but also his brothers.

The woman smiles at me. "I understand. I don't have any information here, unfortunately. All they gave me was this clipboard and some boxes of jumpsuits. But I'm sure once you get through decontamination, they can find out for you. Ok?"

I nod, sniffling, feeling the sob trying to burst out of me. The woman looks me up and down, reaching into one of the boxes around her before handing me a folded up jumpsuit that I'm assuming will look just like hers. "There's a bathroom down that hall on the right. Go ahead and get changed, then head down this hall to the next man in a labcoat. Ok?" I take the uniform from her, attempt a small smile, but my face doesn't move. She gives my hand a little squeeze before I make my way to the bathroom.

I quickly change, zipping up the blue jumpsuit. That woman sure is a good judge of size. This thing fits me like a glove. I gather up my clothes and head down the hall she indicated, taking one last look at the giant vault door, huge and solid, before heading towards the next Labcoat, who was beckoning me to him.

"Hi, Miss-"

"Mrs. I'm Mrs. Miller."

He smiles, but it's...unsettling. Something about his eyes worries me but I can't quite put my finger on it.

"You can leave those here," He nods towards the wad of clothes in my arms and points to a large bin off to the side. "We require jumpsuits from all vault dwellers."

I quickly toss my clothes in the bin, just trying to get through this quickly so I can get more information on Benny. My hands are shaking and I'm holding back vomit, willing my brain to not replay what's happened in the last 15 minutes.

He smiles again. "Thank you, Mrs. Miller. If you'll follow me." He turns and heads down another hall, turning to enter the 2nd doorway. Inside the room is rather large and cold, and I shiver, holding my arms around myself as the Labcoat walks further in. There are what looks like pods, about 6 on each side, facing each other. They have a myriad of tubes and pipes coming from them, a little control panel standing next to each pod. The doors appear to open up as opposed to a normal door. We stop in front of one of them, the door standing open for me, and Labcoat gestures to it.

"If you'll just hop in, ma'am."

"What is it?" I look inside and see some cushions, sort of like a chair if your were standing. I glance around and notice more people coming in, all of them standing in front or getting into a pod, donning the bright blue jumpsuits.

"It's a decontamination chamber. We have to make sure everyone is clean and free of radiation and other unpleasentries before we allow you into the vault. For vault health and security, of course."

I nod. "Makes sense. I do have a question."

He looks irritated but then that smile is back. "Yes, ma'am?"

"When I get through here, I'll be able to talk to someone about my husband? He's a lieutenant in Delta Force and I think he may be in another vault."

"Absolutely. Our communications specialists can help you with that."

A sigh of relief escapes me. "So you can communicate with other vaults?"

"Oh yes. Sort of like a telegram. If he's in a vault, we'll find him ma'am. Now if you'll just step into the pod, we can get you through decontamination and one step closer to finding your husband."

My eyes glance around the room, seeing everyone else hopping into their own pods. I'm so nervous, that vomit starting to make it's way back up my throat. And I fucking need Benny. He can't be dead. The possibility that I'd have to face a future without him is nearly unbearable. I turn back to my pod and get inside, nestling myself down into the cushions. Labcoat taps a button on the panel and my door starts to close at the same time as the others. My breathing picks up, air visibly puffing out and I swear it's colder in here than it was in the room.

"Now just relax and you'll be clean in no time!" Labcoat smiles at me.

I take a deep breath, my thoughts only of Benny as my world goes black, my mind slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing I feel is my skin freezing, my body going hard, preventing any sort of movement.

I'm coming, Benny.

General Taglist:

@frankie-catfish-morales @chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-noodle @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @booksarekindaneat @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amneris21 @gooddaykate @avengers-fixation @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed @ladykatakuri @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 @veryprairieberry @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @heartpascalispunk

#benny miller #fallout #ben miller #benny miller x reader #benny miller x you #benny miller x f!reader #triple frontier #garrett hedlund #benjamin miller #benjamin benny miller #garrett hedlund x reader #garrett hedlund x you #garrett hedlund characters #garrett hedlund character fanfic #garrett hedlund character ff #garrett hedlund character fanfiction #fallout fanfiction #crossover au

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svtskneecaps · 2 months

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FRIENDS I HAVE BEEN PLAYING WITH SOME OF THE QSMP MODS AND I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

BEHOLD THESE THREE PARTICULAR BLOCKS FROM THE FRAMEDBLOCKS MOD!!!!! FROM LEFT TO RIGHT, THE "FRAMED SECRET STORAGE", THE "FRAMED DOOR", AND THE "FRAMED ONE-WAY WINDOW"

FRAMED SECRET STORAGE, A BLOCK WITH SOME STORAGE THAT CAN BE CAMOUFLAGED TO LOOK LIKE WHATEVER BLOCK YOU DESIRE!!!! WANT TO BUILD YOUR WHOLE HOUSE OUT OF CHESTS AND STILL MAINTAIN AESTHETIC?? GO FOR IT!! HAVE SECRET CONTRABAND BUT NEED EASY ACCESS? HIDE IT RIGHT IN YOUR WALLS!!!

THE FRAMED DOOR, ABLE TO BE CUSTOMIZED TO LOOK LIKE A WALL!! THE TOP AND BOTTOM CAN BE ASSIGNED BLOCKS INDEPENDENTLY!!

SECRET TUNNEL!!!!!!!!!

THE FRAMED ONE-WAY WINDOW!! ANY ONE SIDE OF THIS BLOCK CAN BE MADE TRANSPARENT, INCLUDING THE TOP AND BOTTOM!!! the transparency can also be REMOVED, so if your friend forgets to look at the name of the block their crosshair is on, YOU CAN TOTALLY PRETEND IT'S A TOTALLY NORMAL SOLID BLOCK AND ADD THE TRANSPARENCY ONLY WHEN NECESSARY >:D

NEEDLESS TO SAY, I AM SO EXCITED FOR WHEN THE PARANOID MEMBERS WITH MANY SECRETS AND MANY THINGS TO HIDE DISCOVER THESE BLOCKS HEHEHEHEHEHE. AS SOMEONE WHO LOVES AND CHAMPIONS ESPIONAGE THIS CONSTITUTES AN ABSOLUTE WIN

#qsmp #I LOVE ESPIONAGE I LOVE SECRETS I LOVE HIDDEN PASSAGES #HOHOHOHOEHOEHOEHOEHOHEHOE #reading through the mod notes apparently if you use phantom membrane on a block it allows you to walk through it like ghost blocks #how FUCKIGN DOPE IS THAT #THIS MAKES ME SO FUCKIGN EXCITED LIKE ACTUALLY I LOVE ESPIONAGE AND SECRETS AND HIDEY HOLES SO MUCH #if mr badboy 'paranoia incarnate' halo stops being deceased i hope he discovers these blocks bc he'd go CRAZY #cellbit would also like DAMN like DAMN #imagine if he'd been able to conceal the security door in the fear room behind a door that looked the same as the wall #jaiden being able to see through the fog using the waterframes couldn't have revealed the door >:D #this is so COOL this is so DOPE i'm in tears i love espionage i hope someone finds these blocks soon #also don't mind that you can't see my hand in any of the screenshots i found a scarf that gives me invisibility #WHICH IS ALSO FUCKING DOPE #the artifacts mod is actually so OP like genuinely #i have bunny slippers that make me jump the height of three fences and take 0 fall damage (i make bunny noises when i'm hit too >:D)#i have a snorkel that gives me 15 seconds of water breathing every time i surface for air #i have night vision goggles AND i have a CLOUD IN A JAR that gives me a DOUBLE JUMP so combine that with the bunny slippers and :DDDDD #and NONE OF THESE have durability and i can have them on AT ALL TIMES unless they conflict in slots ofc like no two in the head slot or smt #tho this is assuming that i downloaded the correct mod (i would have grabbed it from seeing it in a tooltip on a stream so jury's out)#(i don't remember what stream either lmao)#but yeah assuming these items exist on the server they're so fucking cool; i'm assuming they'll pop up in a shop later #since i haven't seen people find many yet #anyway not to be a fucking nerd or anything lmfao just got a lil excited #long tags #shut up vic #block game brainrot

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bonefall · 1 year

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Thistle Law

The most extreme, violent interpretation of the Warrior Code, initially founded by Thistleclaw near the end of the Campaign Era, with its first implementation defining the beginning of the Slash-and-Burn Period.

One of three distinct Clan ideologies, next to Fire Alone and Traditionalism.

A guide to its origin, the parable associated with it, its principles, and most importantly, my authorial intentions with it in the Bonefall Rewrite. Seen a couple of questions about it, so I think this’ll help clarify.

Origin

Extreme interpretations of the Code go back as far as the founding of the clans themselves, but the roots of Thistle Law trace back to the Exile of SkyClan. Justifying the loss of an entire clan included cracking down on medicine cats and quashing a rebellion, and the ‘clan pride tide‘ added FOUR new laws to the Warrior Code.

The following wars and conflicts in the Chivalric Period further contributed to xenophobic sentiment in the Clans, with each one vying for supremacy over the others, branching out to attack non-Clan cats when there were brief stints of ‘peace’. Thistleclaw merely gave these ideas a name while educating his apprentice, using thistles as a metaphor.

Tigerclaw then went on to tell the story to his clanmates, to his own apprentices, and at gatherings to his future allies who told it to their own clanmates. Though the details of the story changed at times, the takeaway is constant;

Other cats must die, so yours can stay strong.

The Parable of the Thistle

The story goes that Thistleclaw brought Tigerpaw out to a massive, thorny bull thistle. He pointed out that the other plants were dying around it, but the flowers stood tall and proud. Thistleclaw explained the thistle was killing the plants around it to have more room to grow, and then cruelly commanded that Tigerpaw try to destroy it.

By the time it was done, Tigerpaw was covered in scratches and the sun was setting. All the way home, he tried to shake the thistlefluff out of his fur and forget the painful experience. The seasons turned, and one year later when Tigerclaw was a young warrior, Thistleclaw led him down a path lined with young, thorny leaves.

There, in a sea of green spikes, the thistle was standing as tall and as proud as the day Tigerpaw shredded it.

In killing every other plant in the area, the thistle had given itself room to come back stronger. The fluff that clung to Tigerpaw’s fur became new growth. Around them was an entire clearing of thistles, ready to burst into a wall of flowers and seeds.

Thistleclaw asked if Tigerclaw would dare to try again, and remembering how his last battle with the weed ended with scratches as deep as claw marks, admitted that he would rather be a thistle than fight one.

(Little did Ivypaw know, the beautiful field in which she meets Hawkfrost was completely strangled by flowering thistles.)

Principles

Depending on the exact time period and the cat it takes root in, Thistle Law can look different. For examples, Brokenstar’s goal was to drive every Clan out of the forest except ShadowClan, where Tigerstar’s aim was to annex every clan into TigerClan and enforce a standard of purity.

Incarnations of Thistle Law tend to share these principles,

The Code Hardens The calling card of Thistle Law is a stricter, more violent interpretation of the Warrior Code. The harsher laws are emphasized, such as the Law of Loyalty and the Right of the Challenge, while softer ones are downplayed or dropped entirely, like the Law of Honor and the Queen’s Rights.

Extreme Xenophobia Against outsiders, against cats of other clans, against half-clan cats. Thistle Law sets itself apart from Traditionalism for becoming willing to enforce some sort of purity.

Hierarchy Becomes Rigid The social power of medicine cats, deputies, and elders is suppressed. The leader is raised as the ultimate authority, even if that leader isn’t the Clan’s -star.

There Is No ‘Pointless’ Death The Clans are a battle culture, but a good battle is still fought for a reason. When tides turn to Thistle Law, fighting is the goal AND the means. To live is to battle, to kill is to win, and a warrior’s purpose is to die at war.

Each incarnation likely contains each point in varied amounts and tosses other ideas into the mix, but the name of the game remains the same-- and it springs from the taproot of Thistle Law.

Intentions

Thistle Law is what fascism looks like in Clan culture. I approach this using Umberto Eco’s 1995 essay Ur-Fascism as my primary reference. Ur-fascism is a ‘fuzzy‘ concept that looks very different depending on the exact society it springs from, mixing and matching several symptoms in varying degrees of severity.

So, in adapting this, I had to simplify a very complicated topic. I wanted to keep the antifascist theory recognizable, while still following canon events and creating an engaging rewrite.

So for simplicity sake, even if a clan might have technically called their own version of Thistle Law something else, I use this name to address it.

#tw fascism #fascism #politics #Bonefall Rewrite #Thistle Law #Thistleclaw #Tigerpaw #As a side note I really gotta finish this post I have about locations in the Dark Forest #Because I actually plan to make it the inverse of StarClan territory where all the BAD landmarks end up there #Like how StarClan still has fourtrees? The DF has the bonehill #And the thistle field #And the 5th oak #And the old river but the water is always flooded #Hope this clarifies btw feel free to @me with any other questions about thistle law this doesn't make clear #I don't want to get into MORE theories on fascism though btw unless you have a specific rewrite event suggestion #I like Eco's essay because it's easy to reference #I would prefer to spend my time reading more terrible cat books and visit theory at my own pace lmao

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arolesbianism · 2 months

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So I may or may not have spent a good chunk of my day trying to learn how to look into onis code and while I may not have yet succeeded I will likely keep fucking around with shit tomorrow and if I manage to succeed it'll spell great doom for my sanity as oni becomes the interest I've officially poured the most effort into analyzing

#rat rambles #oni posting #for now I must sleep but hopefully tomorrow Ill figure out how to decompile files #the real question is going to be if Ill be able to do this on my shitty ass laptop or if Ill need to figure smth else out #I just want to be able to view stuff so ideally it won't make my laptop chug too bad but rly Im more worried abt space #I might have to try to do some cleanup and delete some shit maybe Ill go scan through the shit that came pre installed #and hey maybe if I can get this to work I can go mega hacker mode and tweak some stuff for funsies #probably wont since I don't wanna break my game and I dont trust myself but yknow #itd probably help if I actually retained any information from the Two programing classes I took when I was younger but alas #one of them was even specifically a video game programming class and lemme tell you I remember absolutely nothing #also from what little I was able to view without fancy applications I have no new info but I can finally fully put jean in the we 100% know #their last name zone cause while we definitely already 100% did Technically we only got jea- for first name confirmation #but theyre referred to as jean in a note in a bio bot story traits file ty whoever added the notes there #god I hope theres other notes in the files I want to read those so bad #btw this was all spurred by that one nails log that disappeared cause I have found a file that looks like it but I cant fully view it #and I desperately need to view it I need to view it #also if I can look in the code then in theory itll make copying down all the lore logs easier #also the datamining thread of the forums hasnt been particularly active so who knows maybe I can become a proper dataminer #(<- will not do that probably unless it turns out to be easier than I thought)#but admittedly I am interested in hunting for potential future update content even if I probably won't hunt too hard for it #again Im mostly just hunting for lore #hey maybe if Im lucky Ill find some genuinely new and usable information in that department #maybe the secrets of b363 and dr. holland lie in the files ooooo (they probably dont)#man it'd be nice if I had a proper pc itd make my life so much easier and my desk feel less enpty lol #in a world where I get to play videogames at a higher framerate than 10fps #I mean we do have some older computers laying around the house although theyre probably also crusty pieces of shit #idk maybe I can see if I can salvage one itd be nice to have a proper computer to fuck about with #Im sure my mom wouldn't mind as long as its one that hasnt been touched in years #which tbf I dont know how many options thatd leave me but we at least have one computer that could theoretically be usable #albiet its definitely packed with viruses from me and my siblings being dumb kids

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digyoman · 5 months

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thinking about earlier this year and even last year when i was so deeply hyperfixated on lloyd & he was all i could think about and yet i barely shared any of my thoughts on here. i kind of want to kick myself about it now actually because i know i had so many things to say and so much i wanted to do but i never made it happen. why was i a coward.

#raaghhh i’m just so disappointed in myself :(#it would’ve been so cool to have those posts to look back on now!!!#technically i still can because it’s all rotting in my notes app. but that’s not as fun.#and it’s not even really about that it’s more like. knowing there’s so much that i’ve missed out on #i never shared any of my writing here (despite saying that i would like. 5 million times!) because i was so so scared of it being perceived #so i never got to experience what it’s like to get feedback!!#and then there’s the lloyd roleplay blog that i’ve wanted to make since very early 2021….#i got so close to doing it last year and i put literal hours of effort into the blog but then i just. decided not to use it.#and i think that makes me the most sick because like. how many interactions do you think i missed out on??#maybe it wouldn’t have gone anywhere. maybe it would’ve sucked and died immediately but i’d never know unless i tried!!!#and now i’ll never know.#‘just do it now’ well you see. I Am Still Scared :)#idk i just find it so difficult to put myself out there #even in a fandom that has a grand total of five people 💀#but i am thinking about it!!! and that should count for something #anyway wow i can ramble!#if you read all this…. hi :)#i’ll probably delete this later but it was good to get it off my chest!

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crazyw3irdo · 1 year

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been seeing a lot of ppl using replies lately?? like way more than normal?? is this something new users are doing or…??

#it’s not like. super weird i guess but it’s just enough for me to notice and be confused #i know it’s a personal preference thing but like #idk if i have a comment to make i tend to make it in the reblogs yknow #i only use replies when i actively choose not to reblog yknow #i’m just wondering if new users think that ppl actually. like. read the replies. cause in my experience i’ve literally never read replies #unless it’s my post or someone posted that ‘what is happening in the notes’ meme #idk i just worry about tumblr becoming like other social media sites i don’t want replies to become a comment section #does this make any sense whatsoever #i’m 100% overthinking things but i’m confused yknow #crazwaz posted

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gottagobuycheese · 1 year

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WIP Game

Tagged into the accountability relay race by @theaggresivepacifist — thanks a mil! Also please know that I am making the biggest bug eyes at your previews

Rules: In a new post, show the last line snippet(s) you wrote and tag as many people as there are words as you want geez I’d never be able to tag that many people

Well, I haven’t written anything consistent in a while, and the most recent thing is still secret unfortunately, BUT I do have a couple things to share that will hopefully at some point make it out into the world beyond my drafts:

Snippet #1 a.k.a. You Want To Watch Nobody Knows, You Want To Watch Nobody Knows Soooooo Bad

Each knock on the door made her heart spasm against her sternum, faster and faster until the nauseating tide of dread in her chest threatened to choke her.

There was an officer outside her door. She was sure of it. Things had been too good for her lately, so it was only a matter of time before the universe had to course-correct. So-yeon only ever brought misfortune upon the people she loved, after all.

She stumbled toward the door in a daze.

This was it. This was the end. This officer was going to tell her — they were going to tell her —

She opened the door.

Snippet #2 a.k.a. The Jung Sibling Cinematic Universe ft. Han Sooyoung’s Confessional Booth

“Sorry,” she says, after nothing happens for another minute, “where did I leave off?”

“You were walking from Chungmuro and chatting about things.” There’s an odd catch in Sooyoung’s voice when she mentions the station, but Heewon doesn’t dwell on it. She’s too busy staring at the boy in the bed, who would be staring right back at her if only he would open his eyes.

“Siblings,” she says quietly, staring at Kim Dokja’s sleeping face. “We were talking about siblings.”

Snippet #3 a.k.a. YOU WANT TO READ ORV, YOU WANT TO READ ORV SOOOOOO BAD

In the back of his mind, a conversation he’d had with her years ago plays in a loop, about rereading and finding something new. That the story you read the first time isn’t the only story there is. He looks at his mother now, at her hand holding his arm, feels the uneven tremble of her fingers as they try to decide between holding on and letting go, and notices, for the first time, that the thought at the front of his mind isn’t all the ways she had hurt him.

It dawns on him slowly, then all at once.

Maybe that’s what this feeling is. He wonders if it’s been there since before he’d woken up.

“Eomma,” he says, the rusty syllables clunky on his tongue, “why don’t you come back inside?”

It’s been so long since I’ve gotten to look at my dashboard or even be online consistently on any platform, so I don’t know who is still actively writing right now, THEREFORE I apologise and please feel free to just consider this a friendly no-pressure hello. Of course, if you are working on something you are allowed to share, I would love to see it! @imperiousphasmid, @fremulon, @darkpurpledawn, @diminished-fish, @internetkatze, @directorofthefalselastact, @demonlikejudgeoffire

And if I didn’t tag you but you want to join in on the sharing please do! Tag me so I can see it! Wait for no one! 2023 is the year of grabbing your desires by the horns and making them happen without waiting for permission!!

#unless that desire is wanting to sleep through an entire week of work maybe do not do that #as far as our pact: please consider this as an advance receipt for the promise of completing reviewing at least Some Questions this weekend #by the time Monday rolls around I will have earned this post's right to exist #anyways this is just a front for my greed at wanting to read everyone's things #I DON'T CARE IF I DON'T KNOW THE FANDOM I WANT TO SEEEEEE #and no I do not know if or when any of these will be finished lol #sure would be nice! sure would love to finish something some day #tag thingy #tag game #aww look I thought I could write #asa you have my permission to read this because it contains virtually no significant information about either of these media #BUT WE WILL COMPLETE THEM SOME DAY #also hiiii cherry and claudine and jess and quandt long time no talk!! I hope you are well :D #sona and opal I know I barely know you guys but I love reading your orv thoughts so if you have any unclassified things to share #please feel free to do so #also feel free to not do so sdhfkskfss I meant it when I said this was a no-pressure thing #ANYWAYS that ended up taking my entire morning off and I still have to pack a bag and take a shower and do some notes #oh and also eat #whoops #man why can't I have the whole day off :(#it's such a nice day outside perfect for spending at home

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foreveranevilregal · 2 years

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Hey even if they're old prompts at least one or two ppl will read them

Will they? I have no way of knowing if people don’t show that they’re reading in any way. Which, most people don’t. Tumblr has no hit counter, so all I have to go on is my notes, which have decreased drastically since the fandom heyday. And the old prompts I still have left are ones that are more difficult to write, so I’m not sure if it’s worth the effort of several hours of writing to maybe have one or two people read them. Writing has gotten very discouraging, not gonna lie.

#asks #anonymous #maybe this sounds bitchy or ungrateful #but writing takes a while #and unless I’m writing a piece specifically for someone #or for a friend #I’m not sure it’s worth it to spend the time just to maybe have a couple people read it #and not give me any indication that they’ve read it of course #lurking culture is killing tumblr #I knew the drop was coming #but damn I was expecting a more gradual taper #not 60 to 0 in a week #I got too used to having more attention #it felt nice #after years of writing for maybe 20 notes it felt nice to get like 80 on pieces #and now we’re dying down #maybe I’ll just crawl into a hole and die

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mejomonster · 2 years

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U ever write and ur like wow a queer person definitely wrote this it is impossible to detach the fact I'm queer from this piece of writing. Well that's fun

#rant #i consider it a positive #but yeah like. i have a bunch of original plots i want to eventually write out as stories #and like. i thought ok ill start with a girl/guy romance since like. my parents might want to read my first finished story #and i love them and im out to tjem and they accept me at pride. but its always a glass closet in a way. they definitely avoid the topic of #who i like. unless im in a relationship specifically or discussing mu own future marriage.#so like a big gay for gay huge epic romance as the first book i shove at tjem is a convo i dont think i expect to have #so whatever i pick one of my guy/girl stories in this original plot story universe. well. im bi #guess how many characters are bi in this bitch. ill give u a hint. anyone wirj any iota #of romantic interest in someone is already explicitly bi. sorry parents but when u read this #u will be smacked over the head by bi being real and remembering ur kid is bi #not a single straight character in this story. assuming anyone straight is fucking impossibimpossible #its clear a queer person wrote this book #oh rodenberry when u said in the future ppl wont care about gender and sexuality limits and lovr is lovr uvu #babey i made itty #i also think like. the current demands ppl make of authors to out themselves. is incredibly invasive like #an authors work generally will speak for itself. and on the flip side #if a lesbian writes a story thats super heteronormativr that can still happen like. identity doesnt equal a perfect (or imperfect) novel #on a semi lighter note. im demiromantic and i feel like #even if i dont intend to that it probably spills into how i write romances and friendships #even tho i like to think i can write ppl who fall in love fasr sjsjdsjsjdj lol

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paganinpurple · 1 year

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AO3 Etiquette -UPDATED

Based on both decent and not so decent replies, I have made some changes to my original post below.

It would seem a whole new kind of AO3 reader/writer is emerging and it is becoming clear not everyone quite understands how the website community works. Here is some basic guidance on how most people expect you to go about using AO3 to keep this a fun community archive that funtions correctly:

As well as likes, kudos is for when the story was interesting enough to make you finish reading. If it sucked or was badly written, you probably left. If you finished it, you liked it - so kudos.

If you really liked it, you should try to comment. It can be long and detailed or a literal keysmash. Writers don't care, we just love comments.

No critisism unless the author has specifically asked or agreed to hear it (so use your notes to say if you want some constructive feedback). Even constructive critisism is a no-no unless an author note tells you it's okay. No, posting it online is not an open invitation for that. Many people write as a fun hobby or a way to cope with, among other things, insecurity and just want to share. Don't ruin that for them. I've seen so many authors just stop writing coz they can't handle the negative emotions the critism brings, and it's only meant to be a fun thing shared for free (pointing out tagging errors is not included in this).

Do not comment to ask the author to write/update something else. It's tacky and off-putting and will probably have the opposite effect than the one you want.

There is no algorithm, it's an archive. Use the search and filter function to add/remove the pairings/characters/tropes etc. you want to read about and it will find you the fics that fit the bill.

For this to work, writers must tag and rate stories. This avoids readers finding the wrong things and missing the stuff they want. I don't care how cringy that trope is in your eyes - it gets tagged.

The tag exception is if you don't want to tag a million things or spoil your story, you can rate it as "chose not to use warnings," and maybe tag the bare minimum.

Don't censor tags. How can someone exclude a tag if the word isn't typed out correctly? There are no content bans for terms so don't censor them.

If the tags are mostly content/trigger warnings, especially if they are things considered very fucked up or graphic, you might want to use "dead dove - do not eat" to ensure people know that you're not messing around with tags and what they get is exactly what you've warned them about.

Character A/Character B means a ROMANTIC or SEXUAL relationship of some kind. Character A&Character B is PLATONIC, like friendship or family.

Nothing is banned. This is an rule because banning one thing is a slipperly slope to banning another and another, until nothing is allowed anymore. Do not expect anyone to censor for you. Because of the tags system, you are responsible for your own reading experience.

People can create new chapters and sequels/fic series any time after they "complete" a story. So it's considered perfectly normal to subscribe, even to a finished story. You can even subscribe to the author instead just to cover your bases.

Do not repost stories or change the publishing date without an extremely good reason (like a complete top to bottom rewrite or an exchange youve written for going public). It's an archive, not social media. No one cares what's the most recent, only what fits their tag needs.

Instead of deleting a story you wrote if you hate it - consider making it anonymous or orphaning it so others can still enjoy it, without it being connected to your name anymore. If you still want to delete it, fair enough.

It's come to my attention that metaworks ARE allowed on AO3, which is something I wasn't aware of. So if you do post an essay or theory, please tag it as such so others can choose to search for it or exclude it. Art is also allowed.

The only reason this archive works is because NON ONE PROFITS. Do not link to your ko-fi or patreon or mention monetary gain in any way or you violate the terms and risk having your account removed. If anyone does link, it leaves the archive open to people claiming it's for profit and having the whole thing removed.

I KNOW there's plenty more I missed but I'm trying to cover most of the basics that people seem to be struggling with.

I invite anyone to add to this, but please explain, don't berate.

#ao3 #using ao3 #archive of our own #fanfiction #fanworks

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maddy-ferguson · 4 months

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i'm studying with notes that aren't mine and tell me why the person uses parentheses ( like this ) i genuinely think there's something wrong with them

#and like i say: brf slt #and they use them way more than the average person too i have to erase the extra space every single time #i know i can't complain because well if i wanted notes to be written the way i want i should have just gone to class and the content #is there so like it's fine. but OH MY GOD #people literally can't write? i know it's hard i know about dyslexia and everything i know it's elitist to expect everyone to be able to #write perfectly but it's actually astounding how bad people are at this am i the only one who can write without making three mistakes #in one sentence anymore society...it's actual sentences not notes they took quickly in the moment like this is them making an effort #i think my biggest pet peeve is the way people use commas. the syntax in general is abysmal it's criminal. and that's coming from me the #person who writes like this on social media #i read a lot as a kid and i've always been very good at like writing without making any mistakes whether it was conjugation grammar or #spelling i don't know why but it always came naturally to me and so i just genuinely do not understand how people can make so many mistakes #that their sentences don't make sense anymore it doesn't compute for me. like i know the objective reasons but it's just not something i'm #capable of understanding😭#i think one of the reasons why i could always write well is i see every word i think/say/hear in my head like visually without me doing #anything like automatically since forever? not forever i don't know what it was like before i could read but it's not like anyone #remembers what not reading is like once they know how to read. but yeah when i tell people this they're always like no this is not a thing #for me and i'm like okay...#but anyway. i don't comment on people's writing mistakes unless it's my sister because it's like rude and again i know it's shitty to be #like you can't write are you stupid because there's a lot of reasons but it's also yk the way we communicate so it's nice to actually #understand what the other person is saying #this doesn't apply to the way i write in the tags of my posts and elsewhere. btw. 😁#doesn't even apply to english in general actually. tbh. but i type the exact same way in french so it's not a language thing #it's a me thing

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xbellaxcarolinax · 10 months

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Scent

Miguel O’Hara X f!reader

Summary: It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. (In which Miguel goes feral when you ovulate)

Word count: 4k+

Warnings: Language. Obvs. S m u t. Obvs. Oral, f receiving. P in V (no protection), cum eating. Cheesy probs. Reader says Miguel's name a lot lmfao not beta read.

Minors DNI.

Honestly, I don’t know how any of this stuff works. This is some bullshit and none of it makes sense. Enjoy.

...

Miguel was fucking losing it.

He couldn’t focus, couldn’t keep his head on straight. There was a thick fog clouding his judgment, disorienting him like a fever he couldn’t sweat out.

It started with a scent.

Light at first, a barely there whiff of something.

It lingered at HQ, trailing between passageways and different conference rooms. There were times when it didn't linger at all for weeks. Then it'd start right up again, progressively getting worse.

It was an intoxicating scent. And he knew it was yours. How could it not be when you spent the most time with him?

It happened once a month for a week at most, and like clockwork, his body reacted viciously, betraying him of all logical thoughts. Your scent seized him by the throat in a sort of chokehold. Some days were unbearable, your scent so strong that he’d have to fight with every muscle and nerve in his body not to touch you, to not bend you over and—

Well. That wasn't a healthy thought.

Recently (the last two months to be exact), he’d have to excuse himself and step out of the room for a few minutes whenever you’d arrive from your world to report for duty, sneaking off to the restroom to tug on his cock till he felt some relief. Images of you would flash in his mind: you on your knees with your lips wrapped around him, or the pained face he'd imagine would twist your features when sinking down on his thick length. He'd come in his hand, sticky ropes of white, using his release to coat his stiff length and go again.

He never truly felt satiated. It was something to keep his appetite at bay. But once he’d come back and face you he’d get hard all over again, drugged out on whatever smell it was that emanated off of you.

He’d salivate like a dog and his bulge would grow uncomfortably large in his skin-tight suit. It got to the point where he couldn’t face you, and whenever you’d greet him he’d return it with a simple grunt, giving you a clear view of his broad, imposing back. He never looked at you anymore unless to sneak in a quick glance and even then, it’d make his cock twitch in desperation, the head weeping, begging to be touched.

He was fucking feral, like a Neanderthal, primitive and obsessed.

You smelled rich, mildly tangy—not like the fruity perfumes some of the spider ladies wore around him. No, it was something else entirely, something earthy, like what he imagined was between your delicate legs. Like wet cunt ready to be taken.

And God, did he want to take it.

…

"Miguel."

He tensed up at the sound of your voice, running a hand through his unruly dark hair. Maybe the cafeteria at HQ wasn’t the best hiding spot.

It was the middle of the month—July fifteenth to be exact—which meant you had that smell again.

You were ovulating.

He knew enough about female anatomy to put the pieces together when he realized that about two weeks after his body reacted to your scent, you'd be in a terrible mood.

"What crawled up your ass?" He'd asked you once, keeping his eyes on all his monitors but immediately noting your discomfort. You sat on a chair beside him, head in your arms as you leaned on the desk.

He could feel you glaring daggers at his profile.

"Shut up. I'm on my period, asshole."

He did shut up after that.

Blood immediately began to rush toward his cock, bringing it to life.

You stood in front of him, one hand on your hip while the other held a plastic container from the empanada joint everyone had a taste for.

"What?" Miguel uttered, keeping his eyes trained on a particular stain on the otherwise pristine white table. Any distraction was a welcomed distraction.

You pulled back the chair opposite of his, plopping down on it unceremoniously. The action sent waves of your aroma toward him like a crashing wave, engulfing him completely. He stiffened, dropping his head slightly while the heel of his hand pressed over his growing bulge.

"You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?"

“I…don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said through gritted teeth, fangs visible when he grimaced. His scarlet eyes wandered over your face for a few seconds before he ripped them away, barely avoiding the twitch in your brow and the growing frown on your lips.

“Seriously?” You scoffed, “You’ve been avoiding me for, what, two months? I’m surprised I got a hold of you. You’re never in the cafeteria.” You ripped open the container, digging inside to grab the fried little snack. “Do we have a problem I’m not aware of?”

Miguel watched you take a bite of the empanada, committed to memory the way your tongue lapped at the grease coating your lips. His hand pressed harder over his cock, and at that moment he cursed himself for implementing the suit-only rule. He could really use a pair of sweatpants right now.

“Well? Do we?” You challenged him, defiant as always. You had this look in your eye that he’s seen before—your adrenaline was about to kick into overdrive. Always ready for a fight.

He sighed, shaking his head, willing himself to breathe. He felt sweat begin to bead across his hairline, strands of his hair sticking down the sides of his face. Your scent was becoming unbearable, overwhelming him to the point where he felt lightheaded. He licked his dry lips, carelessly running the tip of his tongue over his sharp canines only to pierce through the delicate muscle. The salty taste of iron exploded in his mouth and he grunted, pinching his eyes shut in frustration.

"Mig."

“No!” He finally barked, slamming a fist over the table. It shook from the weight of his large hand, the empty container almost flying off the surface. You went wide-eyed for a moment at his outburst before pressing the last bite of your snack between your lips, unfazed.

“It clearly doesn’t seem that way,” you replied calmly, but the twitch in your brow remained and your eyes narrowed. You wiped your mouth and fingers with a brown recyclable napkin meticulously, “if you have a problem, say so.”

One thing you had in common with Miguel was your bluntness. You always cut to the chase, saying what you needed to without much thought. It was one of the things that he appreciated in a fellow spider person but right now it only served to irritate him. That last thing he wanted was to deal with someone as fucking stubborn as him.

He must've looked like hell because when you regarded him, the hardness in your eyes softened immensely as if only just realizing his disheveled appearance. You went to touch his hand over the table but he snatched it away before you could, glaring.

"You don't look so good,” you reasoned quietly, stung by his actions, “d’you need some help?”

"M'fine."

"I don't think—"

"Listen to me very carefully," Miguel hissed, nose flaring and skin burning hot, "I need you to get away from me."

"What—"

"I'm not gonna tell you again," he seethed, cock struggling to break free from the constraints of his suit, "Go. Leave."

You were stunned into silence, tapping your fingers over the table awkwardly before grabbing your mess and leaving without another word.

Miguel watched you leave with a groan, dropping his head back in aggravation.

He was so fucked.

…

You hadn't shown up to HQ in a while. He couldn't blame you.

While that should've been a win for Miguel, it wasn't. Sure, the violent attacks on his body had diminished somewhat, but now, just because you weren’t around as much didn’t mean you didn’t leave his thoughts for a second.

He could've called you—had that stupid watch to contact you—see if you were okay. But his pride assaulted him every time he so much as glanced at his watch.

His thoughts circulated and continued, imagining you in all the positions he wanted to put you in, which landed him back in the restroom for a daily cock tug when he should’ve been working.

The spiderverse needed to be controlled and admittingly, you were one of the best on his team. You were stealthy and intelligent—he needed you more than he'd cared to admit.

And...he missed you.

But you were off fighting crime and restoring the peace in your universe—at least that was the excuse you'd given him, only showing face when it was absolutely necessary.

Which, as of late, wasn’t very necessary.

And still, he suffered.

...

Earth- 0708.

A shit show of a universe where the height of winter was in the middle of fucking August. It was snowing, small tufts of flurries lightly coating the ground in white.

Miguel knew exactly where to find you. Sunnyside, Lowery Street off the seven train. On the corner of a bodega by the broken lamp post. He could walk to your apartment complex blind if he really wanted to.

And there it was. He could smell you upon arriving—through the concrete and rusty red brick, up the five floors to your window—he could smell you. His hands shook (not from the cold) as his claws gripped the aging wall, his cock doing its usual swelling.

You must have sensed him immediately, slamming your bedroom window open and peering out into the darkness before he could even make it to your window. The cold wind blew and carried your scent. Mierda.

“Miguel?” You called out, squinting down at him as he scaled the dusty brick wall. When he finally came face to face with you, he lowered his mask, revealing his flushed face and sweat-slicked hair. He could see his breath come out in short, little puffs.

“You couldn’t use the front door like a normal person?” You asked with a roll of your eyes, crossing your arms.

“When were we ever normal people?” It was meant to come out smooth as butter but Miguel’s voice was hoarse, throat seemingly drier than the Sahara. He cleared it, stepping through the window, turning around to quickly slam it shut. He was concentrating, forcing himself to take a deep breath before turning around to face you, except, you were already gone, disappearing deeper into your apartment.

He grunted, rubbing his eyes. He thought he’d gotten better at controlling himself. The gentle breathing helped, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t struggling to keep his cock under control. It twitched a few times, and he groaned, exiting your bedroom. It was now or never.

You were in your tiny kitchen, stirring a cup of tea while the TV in the living room softly played some sitcom he remembered you were into. You were in a black hoodie and gray sweats, your hair messily thrown up in a ponytail. He’d seen you this way more than he could count. When did you become so pretty? Miguel didn’t understand it. You were under his nose this whole time, and he never really looked at you. Well, that was wrong. He did, of course, he did, but he never indulged. He was too much of a workaholic for that.

“What do you want?” You asked, monotoned, “I took care of all the bad guys so I know you're not here for that.” You propped your elbows on your kitchen counter, resting your chin in the palm of your hand as you peered up at him. You’d always told him he looked massive in your apartment as if his shoulders would cave the entire place in, and now, with you looking at him like that—all doe eyes and confusion—just a tiny thing, well…his cock twitched.

He swallowed thickly, jaw tense as he looked away from you to collect himself.

“I gotta ask you somethin'.” The words rushed out of his mouth, the flashing images on the TV seemingly more interesting to him than anything else.

“Shoot.”

“It’s… gonna sound weird, bare with me.”

“O…kay.”

Miguel turned away from you as he always did, hoping to curb his sweltering need to take you against your wall like a beast. “Are you ovulating?” It was quiet for a beat, and his heart flew into his throat in pure mortification.

“What?”

“You heard me, I’m not repeating it again.”

“Miguel, what the fuck—”

“Just—answer the Goddamn question, por favor.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, bowing his head in frustration. He felt hot, his body burning as if molten lava flowed through his veins. His tone must have done something because when he looked over his shoulder you were on your phone tapping a few buttons.

“...Yes,” you finally answered, bringing your gaze to meet his half-lidded eyes, “according to my app.”

“Mierda,” He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, “fuck. Okay.”

“You gonna tell me what’s going on, Miguel?”

“And you ovulate mid-month? Between the twelfth and sixteenth? No don’t—don’t look at me like that, please,” Miguel choked as he began to pace back and forth, ignoring the incredulous look on your face that was both humiliating and overwhelmingly arousing at the same time, “Just—just answer.” Another beat of silence engulfed you both as you searched the information through your period tracker with a shaky hand.

“Uhh, yeah, t-that’s right.” You placed your phone down on the counter, your tea now cold and long forgotten. “Mig…what’s with the questions? How d’you even know that?”

He finally paused his steps to run a hand through his hair before facing you from a safe distance, hoping you wouldn’t notice the growing erection burning hot between his legs from the angle he was in. If you noticed the large space between you both, you didn’t mention it.

“I haven’t been ignoring you,” you snorted at the comment, and again, he pinched the bridge of his nose, “I haven’t been ignoring you by choice, me entiendes?”

“So what is it then?” You took a couple of steps closer while he took a couple of steps back.

“It’s your scent—you smell so fucking good and it's driving fucking crazy, muñeca.”

“I-I don’t understand, Mig, what—”

“Look, I don’t understand it either,” he ran a hand through his locks again and again as if ready to rip the strands off, “all I know is you have a…scent when you ovulate every month…and, well…” he dropped both arms to his sides, standing there like an idiot as you stepped closer to drink him in. Your eyes traced him over, his broad shoulders and muscled arms, his thick thighs, and his engorged co—

“M-Miguel?” Your gaze was pinned to his bulge, pushing against the confines of his suit. “Why didn't you tell me anything?”

The question made him burn—made him bare his fangs and curl his hands into tight fists.

"What did you expect?” He spat, pacing again, “How was I gonna tell you some shit like this?" He licked his lips, his body feeling feverish. If he didn't leave soon he was sure to do something he'd regret.

“Miguel, come here.” He ignored you, much too irritated and embarrassed to do anything but just stand there. His jaw clicked, the bone shifting under the skin as he grinded his teeth in frustration. He could hear your footsteps padding softly behind him until you stood in front of him, craning your neck just to make eye contact.

It was unbearable being in your presence. He was going lightheaded again, the arousal almost blinding.

“Mig? D-did you need some help?” You whispered, your fingers ghosting over his chiseled abdomen, ready to trail lower but his large hand gripped you by the wrist, halting your movements.

“No.” He choked, “I’m not gonna force you to do something you don’t want to. Just came to tell you.”

“What if I want to?” You continued, lifting your free hand to press your warm palm over his heaving chest, “What if I told you I’ve wanted to do this for a long time?”

Miguel hissed as soon as you cupped his erection, gently rubbing your palm up and down the smooth surface of his bulge, hidden behind the silky fabric of his suit.

“Poor Miguel—all this suffering, all this grief, when all you needed was for me to relieve you,” you tutted, feeling how incredibly hard he was, “so I have a scent, huh?” Miguel groaned, his head lolling to the side as he watched your careful movements. The friction wasn’t enough, but it was more than he could have asked for in the last few months. His hand was nothing compared to yours. “What do I smell like then?”

“Like wet pussy,” he swallowed thickly, hands fighting the urge to grip you by the waist, “smells amazing, muñeca.” He hissed again when you gripped him firmly.

“Yeah?” You smiled, your eyes just as hooded as his, “And what do you want to do to me?”

A growl rumbled in his chest. Without saying another word, he pushed you back against the closest wall, caging you in his large arms.

“You have no idea the things I want to do to you.” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose over yours. Your eyes fluttered, lips parting to take the tiniest breaths, chest heaving in arousal.

“Show me.” You breathed before Miguel kissed you. He curled around you, sealing you away from everything that wasn’t him. Your scent had his head buzzing, had him licking wildly into your mouth, his fangs grazing your skin more times than you could count.

He pawed at your hoodie, his claws sinking into the black fibers of the fabric. “Do you care about this?” He said between kisses, skimming the delicate skin underneath.

“It was an ex-boyfriend’s.” You yelped when Miguel tore into the hoodie immediately, ripping apart the seams with ease. You weren't wearing a t-shirt underneath, leaving you bare above the waist.

“Not important then.” He muttered, tossing the thick shreds of fabric aside in favor of touching your bare skin. He noted your eyes, how blown your pupils were at his actions. You were cold, nipples pebbling and goosebumps forming over your arms. Miguel cooed, his thumbs reaching out to rub the sensitive nubs on your chest, tugging them between his fingers. Your head fell back against the wall, a mewl escaping you.

“Miguel,” you moaned, arching your body into his skillful hands. He brought you flushed against him, pressing his face into your neck and licking a stripe up to your ear.

“¿Qué pasó, hermosa? I barely touched you,” Miguel chuckled, lifting you up in his arms with ease and walking to your bedroom. He threw you on your bed, and within seconds, your sweats were pulled down with your panties, hastily tossed to the side.

He observed you like a beast on the hunt, eyes trained on your glistening cunt. There it was, the source of his misfortunes for all those months, weeping and swollen with arousal, just waiting to be fucked. His mouth watered, watching you slowly swirl your fingers between your folds, coating two digits with your slick before presenting them to him.

“Wanna taste?”

He saw how your juices clung to your fingers like glossy webs when you wiggled them toward him. He kneeled in front of you, gripping your wrist in his hand and lapping at your essence, plunging your fingers into his mouth. He moaned in relief as if tasting you was the cure to every issue he'd encountered.

You gasped, mouth slightly ajar as you watched him. It was so obscene how this man took pleasure from your taste alone, coating your fingers entirely in his spit. You whined, the sensation of his tongue causing your cunt to flutter, desperate to be filled.

“Miguel,” you whined, “get rid of the suit.” He chuckled over your fingers, letting you feel the tip of his fang over the soft pads before releasing them with a gentle pop. He stood to his full height, dwarfing you, glowing in that suit of his. Slowly, the tech that held his suit together scurried down the length of his body like falling stars until he was completely nude. His cock sprung forward, finally released from its prison, standing large and proud.

“Oh my god,” Miguel heard you mutter, saw how your eyes were trained on the angry red tip, shining with precome. His chest puffed with pride. You licked your lips, mind already set on the task you'd given yourself. You moaned, desperate for a taste of him.

He didn't give you much time to react, surging forward to place a hand around your delicate throat, putting the slightest bit of pressure before pushing you down flat.

"Next time. I need to taste you." His eyes were glowing, burning red in the dim lighting of your bedroom. He knelt again, grabbing your hips firmly and pulling you roughly toward the edge of the bed before devouring your cunt like a starved man.

"Shit," you cried, hands immediately tugging on his hair as you threw your head back, "M-Miguel." He was insatiable, tongue swirling around your clit several times before lapping at your soaked folds, moaning at the tangy taste.

"Que rico," he muttered to himself, the vibrations of his voice over your cunt causing you to cry out. He continued his assault, dipping his tongue into your hole, a testament of what was to come. Then, without warning, he plunged his middle finger inside, immediately hitting something that made you see stars. You choked and heaved, pulling at his hair as he fucked you with his thick finger while sucking on your clit.

"Fuuuck, Miguel, I-I think I'm—" you threw your head back, eyes rolling as you came, gushing all over Miguel's mouth and hand. You trembled, almost sobbing when he hadn't let up, feasting on your juices as his finger continued to thrust into you.

"M-Miguel, I can't," you whined, your hands fighting to lift his head away from your aching cunt, but he ignored you, too drunk on your taste to stop. He carefully added a second finger, easily finding a rhythm to thrust into you. The stretch had you gasping for air, thighs trembling on either side of his head. If two fingers were too much for you then his cock would surely be a challenge.

Miguel's eyes were closed, tongue hungrily lapping at the wetness you produced, and within seconds had you falling apart with a wicked moan. Your cunt squeezed his two fingers when you came again, coating his hand and chin with your slick. You sobbed, begging him to stop, and he did, placing a wet kiss on each of your inner thighs before carefully pulling his fingers out.

"Look at me, hermosa." You hiccupped, craning your neck to look at Miguel with blurry eyes. He already had his red gaze pinned on you, and when he had your attention he placed his cum coated fingers into his mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

You were mesmerized, not even fucked by his cock yet but somehow already drunk on the anticipation. You whimpered, watching him lap up the last of your juices on his fingers.

"M-miguel?"

"You taste so fucking good," he growled with a shake of his head, pushing his face into your pulsating cunt one more time to breathe in your intoxicating scent. His hot breath over your pussy made your toes curl, sighing in contentment when he placed a quick kiss on your swollen clit.

Miguel climbed on the bed, caging your hips with his muscular thighs. His cock slid against your folds, your slick already lubricating him. You were still shaking, your hands now finding purchase on his biceps.

"¿Estás bien, amor?" He asked, leaning down to pepper kisses over your tear stained face. He was getting sappy, he knew. He couldn't help it, not with the way you came so pretty for him.

"Mhm," you sighed, letting him arrange your trembling legs over his hips, his cock pressing more firmly into your aching wet core.

"Good." He spit on his hand and ran it over his stiff shaft a few times before pushing your thighs up so that your knees touched your shoulders, effectively folding you in half. He lined up the head, ready to push in, but stopped when he heard you whimper.

"It's been a while, Miguel," you explained with wet eyes, "I haven't...in a while a-and you're so big—"

"It's okay, I know you can take me, hm?" Miguel brushed a few damp strands away from your sweaty face. He leaned down to kiss you, and he knew you could taste yourself on his lips. It made his cock twitch over you, and with no further delay he notched the head of his cock into your hole, slowly pushing in.

You moaned, eyebrows knitting at the stretch of him. He panted, pushing inch by devastating inch, all the while watching your face for any signs. You were falling apart, eyes screwed shut and nails digging into the meat of his arms.

"I can't," you choked, your hips fighting against the offending pain, but Miguel was quick in securing you in place, continuing to spear you with his cock, "M-Miguel, y-your too big, it's too much!"

"Shhh, hermosa, si puedes," Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the way your cunt fluttered over him, fighting to take him in, "look how good you're doing for me, mm, así mismo."

He pushed deeper, swallowing your cries with a kiss as he bottomed out, his balls pressing nicely against your ass.

"¿Ves? " He cooed, bumping his nose against yours as you whimpered, "I told you, you could do it." He chuckled at your glare, kissing you again before thrusting experimentally into you.

You moaned, tossing your head back, exposing your throat. You felt full to the brim, completely stuffed. Miguel wasted no time surging forward to lick and nip at your neck as he moved above. Each thrust shook your bed, the springs of your mattress coming to life as Miguel fucked you deeper. Your pussy was drenched, soaking his cock as he glided in and out of you effortlessly. The stretch burned but it was delicious, and Miguel knew you were cock drunk when your mouth fell open, tears running down your cheeks.

"¿Así te gusta, hermosa?" Miguel moaned, his breath fanning over your skin as he pounded deeply into you. His cock reached something within you that had a sob ripping from your throat.

"Oh my God," you whined, feeling the constant slap, slap, slap of his balls against your ass, "Fuuuck."

"That's the spot?" He heaved, his fangs glistening with saliva, "That's where you want it?" He continued his relentless pace, hitting that spot with precision over and over again. The sounds of your squelching pussy made him feral, slamming into you until you screamed, watching you fall apart before his eyes.

You came hard, gushing all over his cock, vision blurry and head in the clouds. Miguel helped you ride your high until you were nothing more than a quivering mess below him, sobbing as he continued to thrust before emptying his load inside you.

He grunted, head tossed back as he pressed his hips tightly against you, filling you up with everything he had.

"Fuck," he groaned, pausing to give himself a moment to breathe before slowly fucking his cum into you. It was too much, leaking out of your hole and over his cock, soaking into the sheets below. "Even better than I imagined." He muttered, shifting to pepper kisses all over your face again. You sighed in content, feeling comfortable in the way his cock was still nestled in you.

"¿Estás bien, muñeca?" Miguel asked, dropping his forehead against yours. He still had you folded in half, his large arms on either side of you. You nodded with a sigh, turning your head to place a chaste kiss on the inside of his wrist.

"Good," he grinned, gently snapping his hips against your ass, letting more of his spend leak from your hole, "cuz I'm not done with you yet."

#spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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