D-gteeths - Greatness Calling...

Pairing: Nerd!Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Reader Under the Influence of an Aphrodisiac, Somnophilia, Blowjob, Slight Nipple Play, Slight Fingering, Penetrative Sex, Mean!Miguel, Slightly Perverted!Miguel

A/N: Requested!

Summary: There is only one man you can turn to in your time of need

Word Count: 3.2K (Barely Edited)

Fuck!

You almost miss your landing, having to hold extra tight to the fire escape railing to not fall. Your breath is ragged, and you never realized how hard it was to breath through your mask until now. You stumble as you step off of the railing and onto the landing, taking a lungful of air as you reach behind your head and rip off your mask. Your steps are clumsy as you walk towards the window, your body burning up as you grasp the window ledge and push it up with a grunt. God, I told that idiot to start locking his windows, you think as you slide through. 

It’s completely dark inside, the only bit of moonlight being blocked by your figure. But even then, you can see the outline of posters and figurines on the wall. You can even see the outline of his body laying in his bed. You let out a heavy sigh, making your way over to him. His bed creaks as you kneel on top of it, the soft mattress sinking under your weight. Miguel’s sheet is half-way off his body, probably kicked off during the night-time heat. His chest falls steadily, his whole front being exposed to you as he sleeps on his back. He mumbles something, sleepy whispers leaving his barely parted mouth as his hand comes up to scratch at his naked chest. You can feel your skin heat up at the sight of the exposed skin, seeing the way coarse hair spans over tan muscles. You feel like a Victorian man seeing an ankle for the first time. 

You don’t really think before your palms land flat onto his skin. It’s slightly cool under your hands, but it does nothing to kill the heated flush over your own skin. It only makes it worse. A tortured sound leaves your lips as you rake your hands down his body, ghosting over the skin of his chest and stomach until they stop at his thighs. Why are his boxers so tight around his thighs? You take a shaky breath in, shifting your weight as your hands travel up slightly until they’re right over the outline of his soft dick. Your hands shake as you massage him over the thin fabric of his underwear; have they always shook like that?

You can feel him hardening under your hands, and your head snaps up when he lets out a soft moan. He’s still asleep, that steady rhythm still moving his chest. But his brows are furrowed, lips parted slightly. It makes something in your stomach twist in fear and excitement at the idea of being caught. You let out another breath as you drop your attention to his semi, your hand gently guiding his cock out through the hole of his boxers. Even though he’s not fully hard yet, you can see the beginning bulge of a vein running up the underside of his cock. The length of him just barely being supported by the hold you have on him. 

Your mouth feels dry at the sight. He’s big, and he isn’t even fully hard yet. You try to chase the dryness in your throat away with a swallow, but it only makes more saliva pool on your tongue. You sneak a peek up again, finding him in the same pose from a minute ago. You keep your eyes on him as you slowly lean down, only looking down for a second as you guide your mouth over him. Your bottom lip brushes over his tip, but you turn your head to the side as you lean further down. Your tongue darts up, licking the length just above your hand as you make your way back up to his tip. Miguel’s breath hitches, your eyes looking towards him. His head is thrown to the side, but he doesn’t seem to be waking up. 

Good.

You hum against him, tongue flicking at his slit. Your hand moves up and down him slowly, feeling him get harder in your hold before you wrap your fingers around his tip. You suck lightly, eyes fluttering when the first salty beads of precum melt on your tongue. You can feel a dull throb beginning at your core, your body craving Miguel’s addicting taste. Your body needs it. A small moan falls from your lips as you take him deeper, your hands falling away to sit on his thighs as you slowly move your head up and down his length. The heavy warmth in your mouth is comforting, and the pleasure of having him in your mouth travels straight to your cunt. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you focus on moving your head, gagging slightly when you force him a little too far down your throat. But you’re caught off guard when a heavy hand falls on your head, forcing Miguel’s cock down your throat entirely. 

You squeal, quickly turning into a gag as your nose meets the coarse hair at the base of his cock. The hand keeps you there and you snap your eyes open. Miguel’s half-lidded eyes stare down at you, sharp crimson glinting. His other hand is stretched out to his side, coming into view in a second, the frames of his glasses pinched between his fingers before he slips them on. You moan around him, trying to communicate the uncomfortable pressure pressing on the back of your throat, but it only makes Miguel hiss out in pleasure. His hand tightens in your hair, pulling your head up before pushing it back down to the base. 

“Fucking knew it,” he breaths harshly, repeating the movement until he’s controlling how fast you suck his dick. “Thought I wouldn’t find out it was you, huh?”

You whine around his cock, mind too hazy on the smell of his skin and the feel of his dick in your mouth to process what he’s talking about. Miguel’s head rolls, his hips beginning to thrust into your mouth as he keeps your head still. You can feel tears pricking at your lower lash line, wet gags escaping your throat with each of his thrusts. Your hands bunch up the fabric of his boxers, eyes staring up at him. You can feel yourself dripping, praying it doesn’t seep through your suit. Miguel thrusts into your mouth a few more times before he pulls you off of his cock, allowing you to take a large breath in and sputter. Spit wets the entirety of your chin and lips, and you gasp as warm liquid splatters on your cheek. Your eyes close instinctively, your ears picking up Miguel’s low groan and labored breathing. Your eyes slowly open, closing quickly when his cock slaps against your cheek.

It twitches against your face, softening only slightly. When you open your eyes fully, Miguel is sitting up. He’s looking down at you, eyes taking in your face and the all too familiar hero costume sticking to your body. He has a knowing look in his eyes, and you yelp when he grabs you. Your positions are switched quickly, your body bouncing once it hits the bed. Springs squeaking under your weight. You can feel Miguel’s body pressing against your back, his hand snaking to your front and pressing up on your abdomen until your ass is forced against him. You whine as you feel his cock pressing against your ass, and you turn your head over your shoulder to look back at him. His glasses have slid down the bridge of his nose, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he studies your body. Or rather, your suit.

‘So, how does the suit work?” he asks, hands running down your sides. You shiver at the contact, pressing yourself further against him. “How do you put it on? A hidden zipper, maybe?”

You gasp as his hand suddenly and roughly cups your clothed cunt, the heel of his hand pressing against you. You’re so warm there. “Or is it something you have to slip on? Gotta get naked before you can put it on, right? It certainly doesn’t feel like you have any panties on.”

You're at a loss of words, shaking your head and trying to grind against his hand. You didn’t know how desperately you need that pressure against your sex until he put it there. Miguel chuckles, cooing at you. His body presses against your back as he leans forward, warm breath hitting your ear. “I saw you on the news earlier, got sprayed with something, didn’t you? You smell so good.”

Another whine passes your lips when he takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your hair. You smell sweet, delicious, like sex and candy. His free hand slips up to your chin, forcing your head up. You grind into his hand desperately as his warm tongue licks up your throat. The saliva is sticky on your skin, but you just wished he could lick you everywhere. Maybe it would help your body cool down. Miguel chuckles against your skin again, pulling away. 

“God, so needy.” He laughs, pulling his hands away from you completely and loving the way you pathetically fall limp onto his bed. “Don’t tell me it was an aphrodisiac or something.”

You huff against his pillow, trying to back your body more into him. It makes him laugh louder, meaner. His hand comes to wrap around the base of his cock, slapping it against your ass. “Is this what you need? You need a nice, big cock to make it all better? Pathetic.”

Despite his words, he’s smiling. He’s wanted this for so long. It’s only a plus that you, his best friend that he’s been tugging his dick to, is also one of the hottest superheroes in Nueva York. It’s like a fucking wet dream. But here you are, in his room with a desperate need for your pussy to be stuffed to the brim. How could it get any better than this?

“I- Miggy, please,” you breathe out, a flush covering your cheeks at his dirty words. Miguel coos, his hands returning to rub up and down your sides.

“It’s okay, baby. I promise I’ll help it feel better. I’ll make it feel so good.”

You gasp when you feel his hands at the nape of your neck, a loud tear filling the room as he rips your suit down your back. “Hope you got extra at home, cariño.”

It takes a few rough tears to completely expose your backside, Miguel pushing the torn edges away as you pull your arms and legs out of them. He groans at the sight of you: your naked body laying in front of him as the tattered remains of your suit lay around you. Your skin is so warm under his touch, like you’re running a fever. And you’re so responsive, mewling and shivering as he rubs your sides slowly. You look so small under him, so perfect. Your back arches when his hands snake to your front, grasping your breasts. You gasp loudly, your hands pressing your body up from the bed, standing on all fours. 

Miguel leans to lay on top of you, pinching and flicking at your horribly hard and sensitive nipples. His teeth are sharp against the lobe of your ear, soothing the sting with kitten licks. You whine when one of his hands leaves your breasts, feeling Miguel twist his head to the side slightly. 

“Down, girl,” he commands, a smile evident in his tone as his hand presses on the center of your upper back and your body buckles. You let out a puff of air as your chest hits the mattress again, your hands sliding out from under you. “Good girl, that’s a good spider.”

You huff at the teasing, glaring at him from over your shoulder. He chuckles at your expression, ignoring you as his hand slips away from your chest and ventures further down your body. You stiffen as his fingers stop just above your clit, your thighs aching to close. With a slight stretch, Miguel’s middle finger skims your bud, your hips bucking. Miguel hums in contemplation, his hand moving away despite your whine of frustration. His hands come up to rub your ass, one of his hands moving further down until his fingers are playing with the sloppy mess of your cunt. You sigh in relief, your back arching further. 

“God, you’re so wet. Is this all for me, baby?” He coos, watching the way his fingers get completely drenched from a few swipes at your folds. His curiosity gets the better of him, plunging two thick fingers through your throbbing hole. You groan, and Miguel slaps your ass to shut you up. 

A wet squelch echos the room when he curls his fingers. As he slowly drags his fingers out, your walls clench in a futile attempt to keep them inside of you, a sad pop coming from your hole when his fingers pull out completely. Miguel holds his fingers up, studying the slight glint of arousal against the moonlight. It drips down his fingers, and Miguel licks the trail up to prevent a further mess. He moans at the taste, sweet and heady. He sucks the rest into his mouth, tongue working around his fingers until they come up clean. He uses the same fingers to smear saliva over the head of his cock, hand dragging it down as he tugs at himself. He shifts behind you, aligning himself until the head of his cock presses against your tiny hole.  

“Gonna make it all better now,” Miguel whispers into the air before he thrusts his hips forward. His low groan is drowned by your loud screech, your walls stretching rapidly to accommodate the sudden intrusion. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you bite down on the pillow, the tip of his cock pressing right against your cervix. 

Miguel curses when your walls pulsate, molding to his cock. His teeth grit as he looks down, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he watches the way your hole moves as he pulls out slowly. Your hole completely melts around his tip, stretching wide as he suddenly fills you to the brim again. Miguel pushes his glasses up again as he smiles, repeating the movement. You moan loudly despite the pillow in your mouth, your hands grabbing at the sheets to stabilize yourself. Miguel’s hands grab at your ass again, kneading it in his hands as he begins thrusting in a steady rhythm. You melt into the bed, eyes fluttering with each snap of his hips. 

A sweat builds on Miguel’s face as he moves his hips, mouth open in a moan each time your walls clench around him in thanks. His glasses slide down his face again, refusing to stay in place no matter how many times he pushes them up. He tires of it quickly, cursing as he rips them off his face and throws them somewhere near your head. His hands leave your ass, coming up to your hands. His palms are against the tops of your hands, his fingers connecting between yours despite the tight hold you have on the sheets. His chest pressed against your back, his forehead pressed against the side of your head as his thrusts speed up. You choke on a moan, your body jolting upward with the force. 

“That’s it, taking it like a good, needy slut,” Miguel praises, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your head, a stark contrast to the way he punishes your dripping cunt. Your walls tighten embarrassingly at his words, making him laugh breathlessly. 

The room is deafening with the sound of his pelvis hitting against your ass, his balls slapping at your clit when he goes flush against you. It all mixes together to form the wet squeals from your cunt, your mind going dizzy from it all. Miguel’s hand pulls away from yours, coming up to your throat to force your face away from the pillow. A wet circle surrounded by teeth marks stains his pillow, more abstract lines showing where his cum has rubbed off of your face. He turns your face towards him, his teeth sinking into your bottom lip before pulling you into a heated kiss. His tongue licks at your teeth, tangling with your tongue. Your face presses more into him with each of his thrusts, and you moan pathetically in his mouth as the rubber band inside of you snaps. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you gush around his cock, body breaking in an almost uncomfortable arch as your body twitches. Miguel groans into your mouth as your walls grow tighter and tighter around him, his thrusts getting desperate as he tries to thrust in and out of them. He rips his mouth away from yours as you go to collapse on the bed, your muscles jumping from your orgasm. Miguel’s hand travels to your clit, rubbing in fast circles that overstimulate you. You gasp and cry, your walls confused as they pulsate quickly and trigger another orgasm in seconds. Your hands shake as they let go of the pillow, traveling down to hit and tug at Miguel’s arm. 

“T-t’much. Miggy, t’much,” you sob, your muscles prickling. 

Miguel hisses at you, removing his arm to hold your waist as he bounces you back on his cock rapidly before he stills. His groan is animalistic as his cock twitches inside of you, painting you in white seed. You moan like an animal in heat as the warmth fills you, your entire body collapsing on the bed in an exhausted pile. You only whine slightly when Miguel gives you a few slow pumps of his cock to ride out his orgasm, forcing his cum deeper inside of you before pulling out. You sigh as you close your eyes, that overbearing warmth that was once consuming your body finally dying away. Miguel lets out ragged breaths over you, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face before squinting his eyes and looking for the outline of the glasses he threw. When he finds them, he slides an arm down his face to get rid of pesky sweat before putting them on, his eyes falling down to your abused cunt just in time to see a bead of cum slip from your hole. 

He lets out a heated sigh, turning his head to look for the shirt he discarded on the floor before he went to bed. He reaches for it, balling it in his hands before swiping it against your cum soaked folds. You mewl at the coarse fabric rubbing against your sensitive pussy, but Miguel is too tired to care as he cleans his mess and throws the shirt to the floor again. The front of his boxers has a slight wet ring around his cock, but he makes no move to take them off as he stuffs his softening cock back into its confines. His hand rubs up your back before he moves to lay down besides you, pulling tattered parts of your suit out from under him and onto the floor. Exhaustion fans his body as he turns to his side and pulls your limp body into his chest. 

“Need to talk about this Spider-Woman shit in the morning,” he mumbles into your hair as he closes his eyes. You only hum, shifting into his warmth. 

Yeah, definitely.

Nasty! Dirty!

“Did you see the way that little girl looked at me? Kids. Little kids. They grow up believing that they can be a hero if they drive a sword into the heart of anything different. And I’m the monster? I don’t know what’s scarier. The fact that everyone in this kingdom wants to run a sword through my heart or that sometimes I just wanna let ‘em.” “We have to get you out of here. Over the wall. We won’t stop until we find some place safe, okay? We’ll go. Together. No matter what we do, we can’t change the way people see us.” “You changed the way you see me... Didn’t you?

NIMONA (2023), based on the comic by ND Stevenson, who came out as transgender in 2022

Incubus!Victor x Fem!Reader NSFW

@uwuboowoo wished for Incubus!Viktor drabble and how was my monster loving ass to say no? Featuring a surprise treat artwork collab by my beloved queen of Viktor art @arcanescribbles 🖤 Full glorious art work here!

Thematic horror, slight initial dub con, over stim, breeding kink, mindbreak themes, monster fuckin.

    ⊱ ───── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ─────  ⊰

There was a creepy scent to old houses that you hated.  Like the ages of dust and previous lives had built up in the walls and floorboards like layers of varnish, a must of creeping damp and mice living in the plasterwork, of old burnt dinners and long since extinguished candle wicks.  A scent no amount of perfumes or cleaning agents or open windows could ever truly dissipate.

Keep reading

If you have achieved something, please remember to observe a mandatory period of basking in the warm glow of your achievement like a lizard on a stone, lest you teach your brain that effort is futile, actually, because it didn't get to enjoy its happy chemicals, so, naturally, nothing good ever comes of trying. (And no, avoiding punishment is not a reward!)

I recommend, like, 5% of basking time in relation to whatever time you invested into achieving the thing minimum. And if you can't make your own bask, friend-brought is fine (= tell your friends!).

Neon lights

hi babes!!!! not sure what this is but here ya go✨✨✨

Viktor x gender neutral reader, 5k words

modern no magic au, viktor is still disabled but not actively dying au, everyone is an academy student because i said so. this will be a two part story!

summary: The last exams of the season are over in the Academy, and people are celebrating. Jayce, Mel and Viktor have a victorious pub quiz team, and after your classmates stand you up, you join them. And end up spending the night sitting in Viktor's lap.

Warnings: bar scene, implied drinking/alcohol but no-one's really drunk. also i think i might have accidentally given the reader anxiety

Tags: @writingmysanity

It’ll be fun, they’d said. You have to come, they’d said. Let’s all go, they’d said. 

And then they, your stupid traitorous classmates, dared not to show up. Which you, of course, only found out after dragging your sorry ass to the bar. 

It was a statistical miracle none of them were there, really. Celebrating the end of exam season was standard custom, and usually everyone flooded to the closest bars and nightclubs, probably increasing their nightly revenue by at least 500%. 

The place was packed, as usual, but you just couldn’t find any of the people that had participated in talking you into coming. 

Maybe they’re just not here yet, your brain offers only semi-helpfully, and you only semi-believe it. The quiet unsettling anxiety of being alone in a place where everyone else had someone to talk to starts to creep up on you, and a part of you starts to regret leaving home in the first place. For a moment, you wonder if they could have done this to you on purpose, but that doesn’t make much sense, so you try to abandon that particular train of thought. 

It was loud, the floors were sticky, and your clothes were getting more uncomfortable by the minute. You could have been home reading. Watching a movie. Playing a game. Something. Something familiar, something quiet, something comfortable. 

An annoying little echo of something one of your friends – real friends, not ones that stood you up at bars – had said to you once plays out in your head. 

Doing things is good for you. 

Don’t be alone all the time. 

You sigh a little to yourself. 

Ugh, fine, you think, and then you take a deep breath, squish that creeping anxiety like an annoying bug, and walk to the bar. 

You were already there. 

You might as well try to have some fun. There was supposed to be a pub quiz later – with only topics that no-one would have to learn in school – and that seemed interesting. Maybe you could get something good to drink, find a nice corner, and try that. One person teams were allowed, if you remembered correctly. 

The bar is crowded, with everyone wanting drinks and refills and trying to hit on the bartenders, so you have to wait a while before you can order, but that’s fine. At least you have something to do. 

Leaning on the counter, you look around as you wait your turn. The place was full of students; some of whom you recognized but didn’t really know, people you had seen around but never talked to, a few you’d shared classes or lab shifts with but no longer remembered the names of. 

It makes you feel a little better that to them, you were probably just another nameless face in the crowd, just like they were to you. 

Slowly, you get used to the surroundings, the too-loud mind numbing music and soft-sticky floors, people bumping into you occasionally. It all fades into a background mush of a steady hum and droning of the bass.

When it’s finally your turn, you order something that had a strange name and a funny color, and that was definitely overpriced. But everything there was, so you try not to dwell on it. Your drink comes with a purple glow stick and turns out to be sweet, ambiguously fruity, and so good that a part of you was disappointed. 

You’d want more of those. 

Dammit. 

You tuck that thought to the back of your head – a problem for future you – and walk away from the counter, making space for other people waiting to order. You’re not sure if the whole drink is purple, or if that’s just the glow stick, but you decide that that doesn’t really matter.

Looking for a free spot away from the loudspeakers, you successfully make it to a far corner without spilling your drink or crashing into anybody, which was, in itself, a victory of sorts. 

And then you almost spill your drink anyway when someone calls your name. Loudly. 

It’s Jayce. One of the more familiar faces on campus. You’d had some classes with him, seen him around, in events and workshops and at the library. He was the kind of person that seemed to be everywhere, so really, you weren’t that surprised to see him. He could pop up at the lab, or in an office or a hallway somewhere, or a fundraiser or a gala or a competition at any given moment, smile politely and stop for some smalltalk, and then continue on his way. He was everywhere and he was friends with everybody, at least on some level, it seemed. Most often he was in the company of one of two people, though; 

Mel, who was currently sitting on his lap, 

or Viktor, who was sitting next to them, avoiding being squished between Jayce and the wall. The three of them were on a two-person couch, in one of the far corners.

You gather yourself and slip closer to them, grateful to have somewhere to go and someone to hang out with.

Mel being there didn’t surprise you. She was – not shockingly – also the type of person that seemed to be everywhere or at least have some contacts there, so her participation in social events wasn’t out of the ordinary. She was studying something in the realm of political science, you weren’t sure of the details, but you had already mentally accepted the possibility that she would probably be running for president someday. 

Viktor, however? Viktor didn’t…do this. Not that you knew, at least. You’d shared classes with him, too, and he was in the lab more often than not. You weren’t exactly sure what he did as a student and what he did as a teacher’s assistant, the line between the two seemed to be a bit hazy, and he also seemed to have some independent job working at the lab. He’d talked about it before, but you were pretty sure you still didn’t know all of it. 

He was the type of person that would just casually say I have to go tend to the porous silicon now, excuse me, and never explain what the porous silicon was for, because apparently that part was obvious.

Or, you know, he’d reveal himself as working as a teacher’s assistant only after you’d only complained to him about the poor quality the class had been organized in. 

At least he had had fun with that one.

And at least he’d agreed. 

So, when you saw him, it was usually either in the lab, in the library, or out somewhere getting coffee. Most of your interactions consisted of lab-related things, or homework, or complaining about the inconvenient and too-short hours places such as the library, the cafeteria, or the coffee shops were open.

This was not a place you expected to see him in. 

“Care to join our team?” Mel asks, pulling you out of your thoughts, “We could use a fourth.”

Ah. 

The pub quiz. 

That made sense. 

You relax a little as you get out of the crowd properly and close enough to talk to them without having to shout. “Sure,” You say, giving them a smile, “Sounds fun.” 

Then, you lick your lips and swallow, looking over the room quickly again. “I was supposed to come here with some classmates but I think they might have stood me up.” 

Mel hums a little in response, Jayce frowns, and Viktor looks almost a little offended on your behalf. 

“Well, we’re more than happy to have you on our team.” Mel continues, “Do you happen to have any obscure areas of expertise that might be useful?”

You smile at her. “I guess we’ll have to see.” 

“Last chance to google something.” Jayce says, already looking down at his phone.

You furrow your brows, a little amused, and look at Viktor. “Do you guys usually prepare for this a lot?” You ask, “You know the winners get like, a coupon for drinks, not their weight in gold and half the kingdom?”

Viktor smiles a little. “Yes,” He answers, leaning forward slightly, “but it’s more fun if you win.” 

“Besides,” Jayce adds, still not looking up from his phone, “free drinks.” 

“And –” Viktor nods, even though Jayce can’t see him, “if we get enough of those coupons, isn’t it kind of like getting half the kingdom?”

“Oh, so you’re playing the long game then,” You smile, “going to win, what, for the next couple of decades and drink for free?”

“Give or take.” He answers, “Not sure where this place is valued at. Might take less than a decade. This isn’t exactly a high-class establishment.”

“But it is popular,” Mel interjects, sounding like she’s only half-serious, “students bring in a lot of money. Not compared to some other places, but still.”

Jayce hums in agreement, shifting a little in his place as he puts his phone away. He only needs to point towards the nearest table before Mel leans over, grabs a piece of paper that was, apparently, their answer sheet, and modifies their team to include four, not three people. 

“You should sit,” She says, as she’s writing, and for a second you just look at her. 

Where? is the obvious question your brain immediately supplies, you three barely fit there and there’s no free seats anywhere. 

Before you can ask, she looks up at you and answers. 

By gesturing towards Viktor. 

“It would make me look better if you sat on his lap, too.” Mel continues, like it’s the most reasonable thing ever, “That way I won’t stand out as much and look stupid on my own. Besides, we’ll all be close to each other that way. Easier to conspire.”

For a moment, you stare at her. 

And then you stare at Viktor, who is, slowly but steadily, turning slightly red. 

“Hang on,” Jayce says, “you think sitting on my lap makes you look stupid?”

Mel smiles and leans back against him. “Depends on the context.” Mel answers, before turning her attention back to you, and to Viktor. 

Who clears his throat. 

“I mean – if you want –” He says, and it’s exactly as much of a coherent sentence as you were expecting. It’s exactly as much of a coherent sentence as you would have been capable of in his place. 

“Are you sure?” You ask him, slightly hesitant. This was, this whole situation and where it was going, wildly uncharted waters. Yes, you were friends or – or something, you were closer to him than you were to anyone else there, but sitting in his lap was not something you had expected to happen. 

And – yes, you were not opposed to the idea, not at all, but – 

“Yes,” He answers, “don’t worry, you won’t break me.” 

“He’s tougher than he looks.” Jayce agrees, and for a second, you just let yourself feel everything around you. 

The music. The sticky floor. The aftertaste of the sugary sweet drink in your mouth. The way Viktor was looking at you. 

The moment. 

You mentally strangle the hesitant anxiety pooling at the bottom of your stomach, shrug softly with one shoulder, and take a few steps to stand directly in front of Viktor, your knees brushing his. Handing your drink to Mel for safekeeping, you carefully settle into his lap, barely daring to breathe, making sure not to knock over the cane that was leaning against the wall next to him. 

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” You ask him quietly, leaning back slightly so he could hear you better, “You should tell me if I am.”

He swallows – you can feel it. “Eh, no –” He says, and his voice is so close that it surprises you, “ – you’re not. Don’t worry.” 

You exhale, slowly, and try your best to relax. 

Trying is the best you can do, though – feeling him pressed against you is causing way too many thoughts and feelings to happen for you to truly focus on anything else. He was warm, and firm, and you could feel his breathing, and you were sitting in his lap. 

You were. In his lap. 

You were not even going to let your brain go there. 

No, this was a normal, casual situation, and you were going to be cool about it. So what if you had a crush on him? So what if you could feel him pressed against your back, your ass –

“Good.” Mel says, smiling as she hands your drink back to you. You take it, carefully, trying not to move too much in case it’d make him uncomfortable. 

You were going to be cool about this. 

You came here to have fun, and that’s what you were going to do. 

“Thanks.” You tell her, giving her a smile and trying your best to act normal about the whole situation. 

“What is that?” She asks, motioning towards your drink with one hand, “It looks good.” 

“Oh.” You answer, looking down at your drink again, racking your brain for the name of it, “Something new, I think? It was called, uh, Krypton?” 

“Right, they’re doing that periodic table thing.” Jayce comments.

“Naming drinks after elements?” Mel asks, “Why?”

“Probably because a lot of nerds frequent this place.” Viktor answers, and again, his voice is so close that it’s like he’s talking directly into your ear. You can feel it, the words rumbling through his chest. 

“What’s it taste like?” Mel continues, ignoring his comment, “Krypton?”

You hum thoughtfully, and take a sip. 

“I would hope not.” Viktor answers while you’re trying to figure out what it does taste like.

“Krypton doesn’t taste like anything.” He continues, “That’d be a pretty sad drink.”

You can’t help smiling at his answer. 

“Why do you know that?” You ask, leaning closer to him again, tilting back your head slightly. 

You can’t see it, but you can hear the smile in his voice when he answers. 

“I know a lot of things. You'd be surprised.” He says. 

Quietly. 

Just for you. 

Before you let yourself get too focused on what his voice sounds like that – close and quiet, so close – you take a breath and turn to look at Mel again. 

“I think it tastes like lemon and rose.” 

She lifts her eyebrows and nods thoughtfully. “I think I’m going to try that once we get our kingdom’s worth of free drinks.”

“Wasn’t it half a kingdom?” Jayce asks, reaching for his own drink on the table.

“I’m optimistic.” Mel answers, smiling. 

“Is krypton purple?” Jayce then continues, now, you’re assuming, to Viktor. 

He hums in answer, and you can feel it. Every slow second of his chest reverberating against your spine, you could feel it resonate in your rib cage, and then when he speaks, it’s no better. His voice is so close that it’s all you could focus on, etching the sound of it into permanent memory without even trying. 

“It glows purple,” He says, “if you run a high enough voltage electric current through it. It’s colorless, normally, but for the sake of argument I guess we can say that it’s purple, yes.”

“Huh.” Jayce answers, leaning back in his seat. 

Viktor mirrors his movement, and you can feel him shift under you. 

His hand brushes your side, and then settles by your waist, a weight so light you half think you’re imagining it.

That, inevitably, reminds your entire body of the position you were in, which was extremely close to him. and you need to focus a lot of your energy on not combusting on the spot. You had never been so close to him before – why would you have been, you were friends – and this was… a whole lot of entirely new sensations. 

He was so close. 

What was he thinking? What was he feeling?

Was it as much as you were feeling?

You were acutely aware of every single point of contact between your bodies, and you were trying not to think about it too much, but, well, that’s just impossible. He was so close, and you could still feel his every breath, feel his every word rumble through his chest, and – 

Mel says something to you, pulling your focus back to her. She’s explaining how the quiz works, what the rules are, and you try your best to listen. 

In the background, though, Jayce and Viktor are talking something about circuit boards, and you can feel his every word. And it is wonderful and heavy and almost unfair, how he’s so close and not closer. How he’s talking like this, every word brushing past your ear, and you know it’s not really what it feels like. This isn’t for you, you’re just there. 

But…he wouldn’t have agreed to this if he didn’t want you there, right? He wasn’t a person that did things he didn’t want to do. He didn’t stay in situations he didn’t like. And he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want to be. 

He hums in response to something Jayce had said, and leans closer to you.

Closer to the table. 

“Can you hand me my drink?” He asks, voice quiet, and very close to your ear. Smooth, and gentle, and low, it goes straight to the pit of your stomach. You can feel him nod towards the table, and, presumably, the one half-full glass there.

For a single heartbeat, you just revel in that feeling. And then you let go of that and lean towards the table, putting down your own drink and grabbing what must have been his.

“Yeah,” You exhale, and hold it out to him carefully. “here.” 

His hand snakes past you, and his fingers brush yours, careful as ever as he takes the drink from you. “Thank you.” He breathes, so close you can feel his breath on your cheek, and you have to suppress a shiver. 

And then he’s back to talking about the circuit boards – something about heat resistant coating and trying to find a new way to attach some wires – and you listen. Try not to feel guilty about how much you were enjoying every second. 

They go back and forth for a moment, going through ideas, and you listen. You’re not sure what it’s about, not anything you were familiar with. Probably not course work, then.

You reach over to the table to grab your own drink again, and then settle back against him. He’s mid-sentence, saying something about mechanical stress – No, that won’t work, it will put too much stress on the wires – and you sip your drink, trying to figure out what they were talking about. They both probably knew more about engineering than you did, but you were still curious. 

“What’s the problem?” You ask, leaning back against his chest and tilting your head up, closer to him. 

He breathes out a quiet hum before explaining. 

“We want to connect two circuit boards in moving parts,” He explains, “which means it needs to be more durable than it is now. The solder keeps breaking, and the wires would get damaged in the long run.” 

You hum thoughtfully, trying to get a hold of the problem. “What have you tried so far?”

“Additional joints,” Jayce answers, and you can feel Viktor nod. 

“Heat resistant coating, it protects the wires.” Viktor adds.

“...But not the connections.” You continue the thought, nodding.

“Right.” Viktor agrees, “The components are small, the solder can’t take the stress.” 

You hum thoughtfully, thinking it through. “Right.” 

And then you lean towards Mel, and the answer sheet for the oncoming quiz. “Gimme.” You reach towards the paper, “The pen, too.”

She looks surprised, and you roll your eyes a little. “I’m going to use the blank side.” You reassure her, and slowly, she hands you the paper and the pen.

“Have you tried putting any kind of casing around the connection?” You ask, “What’s the geometry like?”

“Eh–” He starts, leaning closer to see the paper, “No. And it’s flat.” Then, he shifts a little, “Do we have space for casings?” 

That’s aimed towards Jayce, and while he thinks, you draw a tentative sketch of what you were thinking. If the soldered connections were the brittle part but the wire itself could be coated, they could build a protective casing around the connection, and let the wire go through it. 

“If we move around the components a bit,” Jayce answers, “then I think so, yeah?”

You can feel Viktor nod slowly, and he leans closer, to look at the paper over your shoulder. 

“Would something like this work?” You ask, knowing he was watching, studying it. You lean back and put down the pen, giving him a better view of what you’d drawn. 

He hums thoughtfully, and his breath hits your cheek, the low rumble of his voice feeling like it wraps itself around your spine and drips straight into your core. 

You do your best to ignore it. 

“Could work.” He says quietly, before reaching for the pen. You tug it closer for him to reach, and he takes it, and scribbles something down to the paper, too. 

“We have three wires,” He mutters, drawing three small lines inside your model of the casing. “we’d need to –” He trails off, and you assume that at this point, he’s mainly talking to himself. That’s okay by you; you just listen to his voice and watch as he draws with quick, nimble fingers. His breathing is deep and steady, and you can feel all of it.

He keeps sketching, and then exhales deeply, shifting slightly again. “That could work. We could try that.” He says, thoughtfully, lifting the paper from the table and looking at it for a moment before handing it to Jayce. “What do you think?” 

You smile, proud of yourself for potentially solving their problem, and Jayce looks over the sketch, squinting in the low lighting. 

As Viktor leans back to his original spot, you settle against him again – and his hand grips your hip, hard, holding you in place. 

“Please don’t say anything.” He whispers, quiet and breathy, directly into your ear. Closer than at any point before.

For one fast heartbeat, you’re confused. 

And then you realize what’s going on; in the new position, you’re pressed against him again.

“I can’t–” He continues through his teeth, voice still so quiet you barely make it out, and the sentence ends in a quiet, frustrated groan. "...control this, at the moment."

You can feel his breathing, now considerably less relaxed than before, and – you’re pretty sure you could even feel his heartbeat, fast and pounding against you. 

Unless that was your own. You weren’t sure.

You could feel every inch of him pressed against you. 

Including what was definitely an erection. 

The realization makes heat flood through you, and with it, a few anxious knots somewhere deep inside you dissolve. 

One, he definitely wasn’t uncomfortable with you being in his lap, then, at least not in the way you’d feared, and two; you weren’t the only one feeling like this. Feeling like your skin was tingling, like you wanted to drink in every second of this and burn it to your memory, your focus honing in on every point of contact.

You glance over at Jayce and Mel – both studying the drawing now. 

Good. 

You smile a little to yourself. 

“Circuit boards, then?” You whisper, tilting your head so that you were talking only to him, “That’s what does it for you?” 

He exhales a small, slightly-strangled chuckle, and briefly drops his head on your shoulder. 

“Right.” He mutters. “That’s what this is about. Absolutely doesn’t have anything to do with you.” 

He still sounds like he’s whispering through gritted teeth, and for a moment, you feel genuinely sorry for him. 

But not so sorry that it would cancel out everything else you were feeling about him.

This was the guy you’d had a crush on for – far too long. And here he was. Like this. Because of you. 

You were on uncharted waters, for sure; teetering on the edge of something. 

And you wanted to know what was on the other side. 

“If it makes you feel better,” You say slowly, quietly, letting your fingers brush his thigh, “I’ve been turned on since I sat here and felt you pressed against me like this, heard your voice so close.”

You can feel him take a deep, slightly-shaky breath. “No,” He mutters, “that definitely does not make me feel better. Or, it does, but that’s not good, it also means it’s going to be a lot more difficult to –” He swallows. "Compose myself again."

“Sorry.” You breathe out. 

You’re not sorry. Not really. And he knows it; you can hear it in the half groan - half sigh that he makes. 

“How am I supposed to focus on anything,” He whispers, “like this, when you’re right there?”

“Sorry.” You try again, and it’s not sincere this time, either. 

“This is torture.” 

“The good kind?”

He swallows, and his hand on your hip flexes, tightening the grip.

“The best.”

You look over to Jayce and Mel again. They’re talking about something, you can’t hear what it is, but that’s just good. It means that odds are they couldn’t have heard anything of your conversation either. 

Mel gets your attention first, asking you to go to the bathroom with her before the quiz – apparently she needs a buffer to make sure she doesn’t get caught in any conversations – and as she explains this, Viktor’s grip on your hip loosens, and he sighs quietly. 

“Sorry.” You breathe in his direction, this time more sincerely. 

In response, he lets out a long exhale, and shifts a little as you get up. 

You feel genuinely bad for him now, but at this point, there wasn’t much you could do. 

At least there was a table in front of him. 

Mel tells the boys to watch your drinks as she pulls you along. The people had moved to the tables, mostly, in anticipation of the quiz, and the bathroom wasn’t as crowded as it could have been. You don’t even need to wait in line. 

“Still no sign of your friends?” Mel asks, casually, as she’s checking her makeup in the mirror.

“No,” You answer, “but they’re not really my friends. Just classmates.”

She hums in answer. Then, she changes the topic, as smoothly as she does everything else. 

“How’s it going with Viktor?” She asks, and coming from her, it sounds casual. Like a totally normal question. 

You don’t know how to give her a normal answer, though. 

She glances at you, waiting. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, which is stupid, because the question doesn’t really leave much up for interpretation.

She lifts a single eyebrow. “I mean,” She says, slowly, “you two fit together like nuts and bolts, the boy has had a massive thing for you for ages, and you’re sitting in his lap.” She lists, “So, how’s it going?” 

You swallow, trying to think of something to say. 

“Good,” You start, “good, I guess?” 

That was true. It definitely wasn’t going badly. It was weird and new and you wanted to speak to him somewhere where you could be alone, but whatever this weird new thing was it definitely wasn’t bad. 

She hums again. Looks at you for a moment, before turning back to her reflection. “Good.” She echoes, “He deserves good things.” She adds, “And so do you.” 

You nod a little, not sure how to answer.

She doesn’t wait for an answer before walking out. "Come on."

Right. 

Now you just needed to go back out there, sit on his lap for the rest of the night without spontaneously combusting, and figure out where to go from there. 

That was going to be fun.

Part 2

Amen.

messing around with simon's face again...

being prices assistant n bein a clumsy bitch you spill coffee ALL over his jeans or sumn. n youre so nervous youll lose your job you frantically grab tissues n wipe over the stains not realising youre rubbing over his bulge until hes letting out lil grunts yk? 📏📏

please this has bimbo assistant written all over it

spewing apologies as you try your best to dry the stain, looking up at him with tears brimming your eyes “i’m so sorry sir! i didn’t mean to! please don’t be mad Captain Price!”

and his eyes are just about rolling to the back of his head at the feel of your hand rubbing directly over his cock, grinding his teeth together as he thrusts against your touch

“Ah, don’t worry about it pretty just- fuck- just keep doin that yeah? fuck yeah”

JAWAN (2023) dir. Atlee

TF141 and their sleepy marshmallow girl. Will curl up just about anywhere and rest so they learn to tuck themselves into your space if only to hold something that so gently contrasts the harshness they've endured.