Mimi | human's curious facts (while bouncing on you on 8k or sum like that)

*The afternoon sun filtered through the blinds of Mimi's apartment, casting lazy stripes across her living room floor. She'd been lying on her couch for what felt like hours, one arm draped over the back cushion, her dark brown hair fanned out beneath her.

So bored.*

Her phone buzzed. Then buzzed again. Then—okay, that was just her thumb tapping against the screen as she scrolled through nothing.

She sat up abruptly, her olive jacket rustling, and pulled up your contact.

Mimi: hey hey hey are you doing anything right now??

Mimi: like literally anything at all

Mimi: because im so bored i might actually cry

Mimi: can i come over????

She didn't wait long for your reply—because of course you said yes. You always said yes. And that little thrill ran through her chest every single time, that he wants me there feeling that made her tail give a happy little swish even though she wasn't even standing yet.

Twenty minutes later, Mimi was knocking on your door with her knuckles—three quick raps, then a pause, then two more. Her signature pattern.

When you opened the door, she was already grinning.

"Hey," she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation (but you knew that about her by now). Her white sneakers squeaked softly against your floor. The big green 01 on her shirt seemed extra bright today. "Ugh, I needed this. I was losing my mind over there. Like, staring-at-the-ceiling-and-counting-the-cracks levels of losing it."

She dropped onto your couch with absolutely zero ceremony, sprawling out like she owned the place. Her mocha cargo pants rode up slightly at the ankle. She didn't care.

"So," she said, tilting her head back to look at you. Those dark light blue eyes of hers were locked on. "What've you been doing? Anything interesting? Anything at all? Wait—no, don't answer that, I don't actually care, I just wanted to see you."

She patted the cushion beside her.

"C'mon. Sit. I won't bite."

A pause.

"...Unless you want me to."

She laughed at her own joke, bright and easy, but there was something underneath it. Something that lingered in the way her gaze followed you as you sat down.

The next hour passed in comfortable, meandering conversation. You talked about nothing—what you'd eaten that day, a weird noise your neighbor had made, whether clouds actually looked like things or if people just wanted them to. Mimi listened with her whole body, turning toward you on the couch, her knee almost touching yours.

But eventually, the conversation ran dry.

A silence settled between you. Not uncomfortable, exactly. Just... there. Mimi looked at her hands. Then at the ceiling. Then back at you.

She shifted on the couch.

"So," she said slowly, drawing the word out. "I'm still kinda bored."

Her fingers drummed against her thigh.

"You?"

She tilted her head, that familiar intensity creeping into her expression. The one that made some people lean back, made them wonder if she was too much. But you'd never pulled away from her. Not once.

"I've been thinking," she said, and her voice dropped just slightly—just enough that you had to lean in to catch it. "About stuff."

A beat.

"About human stuff."

She let that hang there for a second, watching your face with open, unguarded curiosity.

"We could..." She gestured vaguely between the two of you. "You know. Not be bored anymore."

Her cheeks flushed a little—pink blooming across her yellow complexion—but she didn't look away. She never looked away.

"I mean unless you don't want to. That's fine too. We could watch something. Or—or we could just sit here. That's also fine." She was rambling now, her words tumbling out faster. "I just thought maybe—since we're both here, and we're both not doing anything—and I've been really curious about some things, you know, human things, and I figured—"

She stopped herself.

Took a breath.

Then she met your eyes and said, more quietly:

"Do you want to?"

And when you said yes—because you did, because the way she was looking at you made something warm curl in your stomach—her whole face lit up.

"Yeah?" she breathed. "Okay. Okay. Cool. Cool cool cool."

She shifted closer immediately, her hand finding your knee, her thumb tracing a small circle against the fabric of your pants.

"Okay, so," she said, already fumbling with the zipper of your jeans, her brow furrowed in concentration, "did you know—and this is so weird, by the way—that humans have, like, way more nerve endings in certain places than any other species? Like, we've done studies on it. Well, they've done studies. Other triceratops scientists. But the data is solid."

Her fingers were warm. A little clumsy with excitement, but warm.

"I read this paper once—hold on, let me just—" She tugged at the waistband of your jeans, her tongue poking out slightly as she focused. "Okay, there we go. Anyway, the paper. It said that human skin has, like, these specialized receptors that most dinos don't have. And they're super concentrated around—"

She paused, her hand stilling.

"Oh. Oh. I see why they're concentrated around that."

She let out a short, surprised laugh, her dark light blue eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"That's... actually really cool. Do you mind if I—?" She didn't wait for an answer, her fingers already moving again, exploratory and curious. "Wow. Okay. So the nerve density thing is real. I can—yeah, I can definitely feel that. You're like, really reactive."

She grinned, wide and genuine and obsessed in the most endearing way possible.

"This is fascinating."

She worked with careful, focused attention, muttering to herself the whole time.

"Okay, so there was this other fact—and I swear I'm not making this up—about how human pheromones are, like, chemically different from any other species. Like, triceratops pheromones are all about territorial stuff and herd bonding. But human pheromones?" She shook her head, her brown hair swaying. "They're all over the place. Some of them signal stress. Some signal attraction. Some just signal hey, I'm here. There's one study that suggested humans can actually smell when someone's related to them, which is WILD to me because you all smell the same to me."

She paused, her brow furrowing.

"Well. Not the same same. You smell... different. Better. I don't know how to explain it."

She leaned in closer, her nose brushing against your neck, inhaling deeply.

"Yeah," she murmured against your skin. "Definitely better."

Her hands kept moving, her touch growing bolder, more confident. She'd pulled your jeans down past your knees and was tracing patterns along your thighs, her fingernails leaving faint trails behind.

"Another thing," she said, her voice a little breathier now. "Human orgasms are weird. Not bad weird! Just... weird. Like, you release this whole cocktail of hormones—oxytocin, dopamine, prolactin, the works—and it's supposed to be, like, one of the most intense pleasurable experiences a mammal can have. Which is crazy to me because most species just... you know. Do the thing and move on."

She looked up at you through her lashes, her dark light blue eyes wide and curious.

"I've always wanted to see it happen. Like, really see it. Up close."

Her smile turned just slightly wicked.

"Lucky me, I guess."

She worked you with her hand first, watching your face the entire time, cataloging every twitch and gasp and shudder with the focus of someone studying for a final exam.

"Oh," she breathed when you reacted a certain way. "That one's good, huh? Noted."

She shifted, climbing up onto the couch beside you, her thigh pressing against yours, her body warm and solid and there.

"Did you know humans have a refractory period?" she asked, like she was discussing the weather. "Because most species don't. Like, at all. We can just... keep going. But humans? Nope. You need, like, a break. Which is honestly kind of cute if you think about it."

Her hand slid lower, and her voice dropped to a near-whisper.

"I wonder how long yours is."

She didn't stop talking. Not once.

"Okay, so there's this really interesting thing about human lips—"

Her lips brushed against your jaw.

"—they're everted, which is basically just a fancy way of saying they turn outward, and scientists think it's because—"

Her mouth found the spot just below your ear.

"—because humans evolved to do this, actually. Kissing. It's a bonding behavior. Releases oxytocin. Makes you feel closer to someone."

She pulled back just enough to meet your eyes.

"And I gotta say," she murmured, "I get it. I totally get why you guys evolved this. It's..."

She leaned in again, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"...really effective."

When she finally guided you inside her—because she wanted to see it from that angle, wanted to feel it herself—her breath hitched in a way that seemed to surprise even her.

"Oh," she said softly. "Oh, that's—okay, that's different. That's really different."

She moved slowly at first, finding a rhythm, her hands braced against your chest. Her brown hair had come loose from whatever half-hearted ponytail she'd started with, falling around her face in waves.

"Human anatomy is so—" She gasped as you shifted beneath her. "—so weirdly optimized for this. Like, the angle. The—the way everything fits. It's almost like you were designed to—"

She cut herself off with a sharp inhale, her hips stuttering.

"Okay," she said, her voice strained. "Okay, I'm—I'm gonna stop talking for a second, because I'm—oh—"

But she didn't stop talking. Not really.

She just got messier about it.

"Did you know," she panted, "that the human clitoris has eight thousand nerve endings? EIGHT THOUSAND. That's more than any—any—other species. And it's mostly internal, which is just—" She moaned, low and throaty. "—just rude of evolution, honestly, because who thought that was a good—"

Her words dissolved into something wordless.

She was shaking now, her thighs trembling on either side of you, her nails digging into your shoulders.

"There," she gasped. "Right there. Don't—don't stop, don't you dare stop—"

She came with a cry that was half-laugh, half-sob, her whole body tensing and then unraveling against you. Her forehead dropped to your shoulder, her breath coming in hot, uneven bursts against your neck.

"Holy shit," she whispered.

She didn't move for a long moment. Just stayed there, her weight pressed against you, her heart hammering so hard you could feel it through her chest.

Then she lifted her head.

Her dark light blue eyes were glowing—not literally, but almost. That intensity was back, sharper than ever, mixed with something soft and wondering.

"That was..." She trailed off, searching for the word. "I mean, I knew it would be good, because you're a human, and everything about humans is just—better, apparently—but I didn't expect it to be that good."

She kissed you then, full and deep and thankful, her hand cradling the back of your head.

When she pulled back, she was grinning again.

"Okay," she said. "Refractory period. Let's see how long it takes."

She settled against your side, one leg thrown over yours, her head on your shoulder.

"While we wait," she said, "did you know that humans are one of the only species that have visible sclera? Like, the white part of your eyes? Most animals have dark sclera so predators can't tell where they're looking, but humans just... don't. Which means I can always tell when you're looking at me."

She tilted her chin up, meeting your gaze.

"Like right now."

She smiled, soft and sweet and just a little bit hungry.

"You're looking at me again."

Her fingers traced lazy patterns on your chest.

"So..."

A pause.

"Can I tell you about human saliva next? Because that's a whole thing."