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futureplayboibunnie · 9 months

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Aphrodesiacs

Miguel O’Hara x fem! spidey! reader

yk that bit of spiderman lore between silk and peter where they were bitten by the same spider and can’t be near each other without feeling….

yeah this is that but with Miguel. SO NSFW. i love blue balling y’all. PART 2 IS UP NOW!

There were certain things that were absolutely not up for discussion when it came to Miguel: his leadership skills, his authority, his ability to lead this society, his daughter and…you.

There were too many issues to discuss about your strange…he didn’t even know what to call it at this point. See, you were both bitten by the same spider which everyone deemed highly impossible, but it happened. What came with being bit by the same spider were chemically and biologically bound side effects no one knew the first thing about. You and Miguel were more enhanced than the others, in many ways, many uncomfortable and impossibly distracting ways. You were physically drawn to each other, unable to physically feel anything but an intense primal, primitive and animalistic sexual attraction to one another. Neither of you could be in the same room without wanting to fuck like bunnies. The chemical compounds in your brains were the same, and it made you both become aphrodesiacs for each other. No one knew about it other than Lyla and Jess.

This was a problem, he was your boss and you couldn’t actually look at him without feeling hot and wet, you had fangs the same way he did but no one knew about it, Lyla made sure of it. Miguel on the other hand was a wreck because of it, his blood would burn at the mere thought of you. He worked his body out to the bone, he would work out and sweat the thoughts and desires away from him. It never worked. But he needed to pretend it did. Neither of you would anticipate how drastic it could be. You knew it was the genetics and the chemicals from the same spider that bit you which made you weary of ever getting close to one another but Lord, the desires were still there. It felt like you were muzzled and on a leash, hindered by moral righteousness. You both knew you couldn’t give in but that was rather difficult when you actually needed to see one another.

You ripped a hole in your suit, where your waist was and only Miguel seemed to have the supplies to fix it. A massive horizontal gash that exposed your skin. Your brain was dreading to see him, your heart said otherwise and your pussy throbbed at the mere idea. It was like you were magnets, constantly avoiding due to the the impossibility to be pulled apart. Taking a deep breath to keep a cool calm head seemed to work momentarily and then you walked into his lair.

Miguel could smell you from here. His skin tightened and his muscles tensed when he felt your scent wrap around him, like a warm golden glow. He would taint you in red. He would break you. He knew this. That’s why he could never….

“You know you can’t be here.” He sighed, ignoring your presence as he was staring blankly at his screens. “You know I can’t concentrate.” He added quietly.

You swallowed thickly and closed your eyes, wincing slightly. “I know we’re not- Look, I just need you to fix my suit and Lyla told me I had to fix it immediately or the wiring would go to shit. You know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need to.”

Miguel paused and blinked slightly at the last thing you said. You did need to see him. You did need to be here but neither of you wanted to talk about the true reason. He turned his head to face you. He wanted to groan at the sight of you.

Miguel had to force himself not to stare at your body and the way your suit clung to it, there was a massive gash in it that exposed the skin of your waist. Why did God always have to test his patience? Lord above give him strength. Even with his impeccable self control and strength, it took everything in his power to resist the urge to throw you against the floor and...Miguel groaned softly and rolled his eyes. “If that's what it takes...”

“I know you want to get rid of me quickly. I promise it won’t take long.” You say hurriedly as you hop onto his platform. You were really close to each other now, You swallowed and your breathing became slightly more shallow. Please let this be quick. Please. You begged silently. “I just need you too stitch my suit on my waist for me.” You say. “Quickly…” You added breathily. You had to get closer for him to actually help you and as he sat in his chair and pulled out his supplies, he raised an eyebrow to lure you closer. He felt his body tighten as you breathed so near him. The electricity was sizzling between you. Your heart beats synchronized and your minds only on one thing.

You got closer and you were practically standing inbetween his legs, you saw his breath hitch slightly but Miguel was a master at not letting his mask slip. He was good at pretending. His brow furrowed slightly, making a fruitless effort of avoiding that fucking look in your eyes. That face. Fuck.

This was bad, this was so dangerous. Being this close could end in a catastrophe for the both of you.

He paused before he put his fingers on your suit, a spark of electricity caused your body to still. He just closed his eyes and breahed out hurridly. He bit the bullet and grabbed your waist for you to stumble closer.

He needed to get this over and done with. No matter what it took, he needed to get you away from him. You gasped a little when he did that and he could feel that sound travel all the way to his dick. He tried to ignore it by getting to work and scanning your suit and then stitching up. His fingers worked at the speed of light. Your eyes just widened, continuing your mindless gawk as hazy thoughts of grabbing his hair and lowering his head further down between your thighs clouded your head. You tried to shake the sensation of his hands gripping your waist but it felt impossible, part of you genuinely wanted to grit your teeth until they shattered- the tension hurt.

Miguel always seemed to be perfectly fine on the outside, he had masked emotions other than anger or annoyance very well but this was causing that picture of himself to falter at the seams. Internally, he was breaking apart. Weakened by desperation. Lord, you were his weakness.

Images of you flashed through his head as he stitched, he wanted you tied up. Yes. With your own webs. Letting him have his way with you, pounding you until you cried and begged him to stop. He would fill you up, make you guzzle his cum as you pleaded for more. He let out a soft grunt at the sheer idea.

His fingers moved quickly as he sewed your torn suit together. “Why are you always getting hurt?” Miguel's voice was raspy, and he was unable to control his breathing. Miguel did his best to look away, but the smell of your exposed your skin was making it hard for him to think clearly. Your body was perfect. Jesus, it was like it was made for him.

You swallowed hard, your thoughts became hazy as he was this close. His hands were brushing on you and you tensed slightly at his fleeting barely there touchs. “Mm- I’m not always getting hurt.” You say softly, if you said it any louder you were sure you would moan.

“Right,” Miguel mumbled softly, his words catching in his throat. “I'm sure you were just passing by when you ran into trouble.” Miguel kept his eyes down to avoid meeting your gaze. All you could do was scowl at him. He finished his work and immediatly grabbed your waist and pushed you away as he got up from his chair to stare at his screens again as a means to avoid looking at you. “Don’t come back here.” He muttered at you seriously.

“I won’t.” You glowered at his broad and muscular back. You lied though, you were sure you’d be back. “But…I can’t keep going on like this.”

His ears pricked up at your admission and he felt the exact same way. Miguel's body was on fire. He wanted you. Right now. He didn't know what would happen if he gave into his urges. His body was shaking, and he had to make a conscious effort to keep his hands to himself. He was trying not to touch you, but every move you made, every tiny shift, only made your body more desirable. “Please, go.” Miguel choked, his voice harsh and strained.

You did as you were told and you hurriedly left. Praying that this would naturally wear off as long as you stayed away from him.

It had been a few days since your interaction and you had both successfully avoided each other since then but he could still feel your presence whenever you were at HQ. He could still feel the air in his office carrying your scent.

Now it was 2AM and he was still in his office. He was banging another hookup over his desk, she was bent over just so he couldn’t look at her. She was pretty but she wasn’t you. As his dick slid in and out, her moans fell flat to him, he only wanted to hear you. He was praying that this one would be the one that made him forget about you, that this one would tamper down his sexual anger and frustration but no. He got angrier. Animalistic. All he could think about was you. He was pretty sure he was hurting her when he was like this. His mood soured when he wondered what he would do to you if he finally gave in. Would he hurt you? God, what if he did….

He never wanted to hurt you.

He knew you would never be able to take it, to take all of it.

You on the other hand were in your apartment, also fucking a random hookup. You were hoping it would help your predicament but if anything it was making you more frustrated. He wasn’t fucking big enough. Yeah, his dick was better than average but it didn’t have the girth that Miguel would- You shook your head out of any thoughts of him and decided to be in the moment. You decided that it was a terrible moment. There were much more irritating things than faking an orgasm like your incessant need for Miguel.

Even though you were being fucked by another guy all you could thing about was: Miguel, Miguel, Miguel.

Nothing was working, for either of you.

Your mind wandered towards another way to fix this. Maybe there was a suppressant or an antidote to help keep down these primal urges and desires. These thoughts were keeping you from doing any sort of work, you couldn’t concentrate properly. Your mind was burned alive by constant thoughts of him in so many different situations. So you decided to talk to him about it. He’d probably end up killing you for even thinking about it but you were way passed that.

You sighed deeply before thrumming up the guts to see him again. Entering his lair was never a welcome idea to anyone but you and him were struggling and he was lying to himself. Miguel felt your presence again, your scent, your skin. He tampered down the jumping urge to drag you by your ankles and-

“I know you didn’t want me here again but we need to talk.” You crossed your arms but it further accentuated your chest, his stare lingered for a moment and he looked blank. Then he looked back down at a new suit he was fixing up and seemed unamused. That look just made you even more wet and desperate for his attention.

“No… we don’t.” He said thickly and your knees started buckling under the pressure. You swallowed.

“Uhm…there has to be an antidote for this or a suppressant for whatever…this is.” You said hurriedly. “Maybe I can manufacture one, I think I might be able to if I could genetically scan the spider and take it’s DNA and change its raw qualities…” Miguel watched you pace desperately as you rambled on, not even looking at him, you were pleading for a solution to this and he was getting more and more annoyed.

He stared at your lips as you spoke. Flashes of you on your knees, drooling and gagging on his cock pierced the forefront of his mind, causing his legs to feel nothing but limp. The things he wanted to do to you. He was an addict because of you.

“There is no cure for it!” He grunted loudly, cutting you off. “Hell, I’ve tried to make one since the first day I met you and all you’ve done is make me lose my fucking self control. You just standing there is enough to make me go crazy for you and I. Can’t. Help. It. I can smell you, I know you want me too but we have to fight it. We have to manage this because if you let me get close to you, I know I’ll hurt you and I won’t let that opportunity arise.” He admitted in a frenzy, his teeth almost shattering against each other, jaw clenching and unclenching. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair as his eyes bore a ruby hue and his breathing became uneven and heavy.

You bit your lip at his angry outburst, not being able to deny how turned on you were by his rage and lack of self control. Part of you thought your mind was playing tricks on your or that you were hullicinating all of this as you were dulled by a cloud of lust, but no. You were very aware now that it was real. You were both feral for each other. You just glowered him.

“I have denied every single impulse I have ever had for you.” You grit out. “Maybe I want you to make it hurt, because any other kind of hurt right now is better than the pure need for you to fuck me right here, right now. You are not the only one who is capable of making another person hurt. Maybe I blame you. Maybe I can’t get you out of my head. Maybe I need your cock in me. Whatever….I just need to do something about it or else I’ll go fucking insane.” Miguel watched your brows furrow and your lips loosen as you uttered those fated words. His eyes glazed over twice and widened, your words were sharp and unfeeling. He believed that if you weren’t this way you wouldn’t find a need to be cruel and direct, the way your eyes glimmered yet darkened with need and passion caused him to halt in his tracks, now you were inching closer to him and he didn’t know what to do.

“It's impossible to create an antidote,it genetically and chemically changed our code.” Miguel mumbled, his voice husky and strained. “We're stuck like this...” He sighed, trying to collect himself. “Look, we just have to learn how to handle this," Miguel muttered, trying to convince himself more than you. “We'll learn to control ourselves. This...this is manageable.”

He didn’t believe any of the lies he spewed. There’s no way this was managable.

“Why do I get the feeling that that is not true.” You say softly, biting your lip and blinking up at him. Neither of you knew how you got this close now, it was like you were drawn to each other.

“Stop giving me that look. I-I can’t-“ He breathed heavily, trying to rescue himself or beg for your mercy. He didn’t know which one. Miguel hung his head and quickly turned his head as to not face you. “I’ll hurt you.” He added stoically.

“I. Don’t. Care ”

#spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara angst #miguel o’hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara

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doberbutts · 3 months

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I want to talk a bit about the whole "fat trans men are denied top surgery" thing because it's true. Many surgeons have BMI requirements and will not operate on anyone classified as more than "overweight".

But I also want to discuss how testosterone often makes you gain weight, putting trans mascs in a fairly difficult position.

When I started testosterone, I weighed 178lbs. I rapidly shot up to 198lbs. At 5'10" I'm classified as just over a BMI of 30 according to my discharge papers, making me classified as obese. I also started having a bit of a cholesterol problem and being that A: I've also hit my 30s in that time and B: I have an extensive family history of high cholesterol in the men in my family, we tried changing my diet and exercise to see if it was lifestyle or if it was genetic.

In that timespan I dropped 3lbs (bringing me to 195lbs, just under that obese line) and my cholesterol continued to climb. It's been about 7 or 8 months with no other change.

When I tell people that I weigh roughly 200lbs, they don't normally believe me. To be clear I don't really care about any of these numbers, I care about my overall health irt stamina, strength, fatigue, etc and I care about my actual muscle mass and body condition. There are, admittedly, times where I look at my stomach and go :( aww I used to be skinnier. But then there's also times like two nights ago when I looked in the mirror after my shower and just saw A Guy standing there looking at me.

Anyway. My point is, testosterone (and age) made me gain a significant amount of weight, and nothing really I've done has gotten it off. Which is fine with me, because I feel better at this current condition and am stronger and have more stamina than I ever did at lower weights even when I was a competing athlete. Everyone I tell my weight and BMI to is shocked to learn that I am 200lbs and classified as obese. From complete disbelief until I stand on a scale, to the immediate "you wear it well" or "it's all muscle though", to the inevitable "okay but BMI is a load of shit anyway", clearly even though that's what the numbers say I am not exactly the poster child for what lawmakers and fat phobic doctors fear monger about when they discuss the "obesity epidemic".

I am lucky enough that while my surgeon is being very annoying in other ways, she at least has no BMI requirement. For 7 or so months I have been putting in a lot of effort to try and lose some weight to fix my cholesterol and I have pretty much nothing to show for it. If it's that hard for me, someone who visually doesn't really look fat, how difficult must it be for someone who is definitely not toeing the line like I am. How impossible for someone who is in the 400lb, 500lb, 600lb range.

Testosterone makes you gain weigh, and then surgeons won't operate if you gain too much. What a fucking joke.

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luveline · 10 months

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𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you comfort miguel when he lashes out after a memory —a ficlet featuring begrudgingly lovesick miguel and a flirty spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. requested here. fem!reader, 1.5k

cw implied ptsd and accidental rough handling

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel can feel your heart-eyes on him. You're sitting behind him on the floor in his office, or, as you've fondly nick-named it this week, The Control Room, humming and making little origami flowers.

So far you've made five, promising him without prompting a multi-coloured bouquet. He doesn't know why you've stopped (or why you started), but he doesn't have to turn around to confirm it. He can tell. You're shameless either way, proven when you say, "Hey, handsome?"

He sighs with more annoyance than he feels. "What?"

"How'd you know I was talking to you?" you ask, with a laugh he loves and hates at once. Loves, because it's a really nice sound, and hates, because he knows how this goes. "I could've been talking to Margo."

"She is handsome," Lyla chimes in.

"Very much," you agree.

Margo, alias Spider-Byte, looks up from her tablet screen to flash a smile. "Thanks, guys."

"What did you want, then?" Miguel asks.

He's surrounded by girls who live to annoy him —they all laugh as though they know something he doesn't, and when he turns to glare at them they laugh more. Lyla zips out of his eyeline, disappearing from view with a sympathetic, "He's dumber than he looks."

"Hurtful," Miguel says, turning back to his screen. "Why do I bother?"

You stand up with your bundle of paper flowers crinkling in your hands and approach him. You're of normal height, while Miguel is of 'ridiculous' height (your word choice), and so you have trouble looking him in the eye when you stand close. You have more trouble keeping your distance, craning your neck all the way up with your rubber capped shoes to his spidersuit ones.

"Can you lean down a bit, please?" you ask.

Margo laughs, “Oh, here we go.”

Miguel has trouble saying no to you. And by trouble, he means he finds it impossible, and he hasn't done it in a while. He leans down very slightly, worried you're going to try and kiss him in front of the others. He's kissed you already (which he hates himself for, what a stupid thing to do) (but was a good kiss, as things go, your lips soft under his, his ardency undulating in the face of your little gasping sound when he'd bitten your lip, when he'd grasped at your side like you were slipping through his fingers), and you've kissed him. But never in front of other people.

Which isn't to say they don't know. Everyone definitely knows. They're just too scared or too kind to say. Or, like Lyla or Margo, they find it funny.

Now in reach, you lift an origami flower to his ear and attempt to prop it there. He has a flash of a memory, a small hand by his face, the summer sun on his neck, and he can't deal with it. He grabs your wrist and pushes it away from him.

Your eyes widen. You're not unused to his bad moods, but Miguel doesn't grab.

You look back, and he thinks it's because you're scared, and he wishes he could take it back straight away, but you're looking for Margo and Lyla. When you see they aren't there, you take his face into your empty hand and ask, "What's wrong?"

Miguel doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to say. Sorry would be a good start, but his mouth is dry. He frowns down at you.

"I didn't mean to overstep," you say, uncharacteristically serious.

"I didn't mean to grab you," he says.

"I know. It wasn't so aggressive, anyways. I'm genetically enhanced, you know?" Your smile creases the delicate skin at the corners of your eyes. "I'll make you something else. A fan, for the heat, or a jumping frog."

You turn and take a step away. Again, Miguel reaches for you, but when he takes your wrist this time it's with the kindness you deserve.

"I'm sorry, cariño," he says.

He’s embarrassed for having pushed you away, even if he couldn’t control himself. All you were trying to do no doubt was make him happy. It's usually your main prerogative besides winding him up, and he can't find any ill will in a paper flower.

"Cariño," you quote in a murmur. It doesn't take a second for you to return to your smiley, loving self. "That's definitely something nice."

"It's affectionate." He doesn't explain more than that.

You force your hand into his, twirling inward like a half-hearted dance. "I can tell," you say giddily, dropping your cheek into his chest.

He rubs the back of your hand. Sorry, sorry, it says, each pass of his thumb against your skin.

"Miguel," you say, in the lilting cadence of a girl with a favour to ask, "now you've ragged me around–"

"Not what happened–"

"–I was thinking maybe I could do something to you." You smile cheekily around your words.

He sweeps his gaze across the office to make sure there's no one here with you both, or about to be. Complicated you may be, but Miguel knows you well. Better than he should. He spent a long time denying his feelings for you, aggrieved and guilty, and a longer amount of time resenting you for being so damned enchanting. Which wasn't your fault in reality —you're a weird creature, and you can be a little off-putting; it's Miguel's problem alone that he wants you as badly as he does. To feel your neat, teasing smirk under his lips. To have the line of your jaw against his hand as you whisper flirtation or laugh at your own awful jokes.

To take your hip into his grasp and squeeze.

There have been times where Miguel wanted to press you up against a wall and kiss you into silence, quieten your taunting teasing with a bite to match his bark. And there have been times where he wanted to rub the tense line between your shoulders, having caught you in a vulnerable moment, and promise that things will be better.

He isn't making any more promises, not in this life, but he thinks that someone like you, who tries too hard to make people happy and sometimes wears two masks at once deserves to do whatever it is they want to do to people like him.

"Okay," he says quietly. His voice is rough as hewn stone.

You have a pocket full of paper stars that crunch as you lean in. "I'm gonna kiss you, if you promise not not to freak out. Is that cool?"

Okay, you deserve some softness, but Miguel would rather lead. Your hand falls to his chest, and his hands find your face. His fingers behind your ears, his thumbs aligned with your smile, he squeezes your cheeks in his hold gently, tilting your chin up, and up. The column of your throat is bared and begging to be scandalised. He can imagine it, the bruising his lips would leave behind like crescent moons and the pinprick crimson stars from his needling fangs if he were to only press down.

"We'll compromise. I'll kiss you, and you'll let me apologise again."

"I don't need you to say sorry again," you say softly.

"Then I won't say it."

The implication has heat rising to your cheeks. Your hand grabs uselessly at his suit as you close your eyes, and Miguel knows his cue. He leans down and kisses you, tender but a little rough, your lips soft and warm and eager as he encourages your head to one side. It feels like you try to say something but you don't move back, and so he doesn't either, kissing and kissing and kissing until he's sure he'll remember how it feel tonight, hours from now, when he's staring at a screen wishing you were haunting his office rather than in a doze in the girl's dormitory.

"Miguel," you say, practically into his mouth. This time he pulls away, and you take a small step back so you don't have to crane your neck. "I, uh…"

Miguel wipes the sheen from your bottom lip, not not listening but certainly not giving his full attention. He's hoping you'll let him kiss you again.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the flower," you say.

His eyes lifted to yours. "It's not that. It's not you. Don't waste any time thinking about it, okay?"

He pinches your chin between his forefinger and his thumb. You hold his eyes for a moment.

"I don't really think," you say bashfully, wrapping your arms around his waist and giving him a hug he doesn't have time to reciprocate.

"You think," he says, blinking as you retreat from him completely, waltzing back to your origami station on the floor. Your hips don't sway, but there's a movement to them he tracks.

"About you, handsome? All the time."

Miguel groans and turns back to his screens. Lyla appears silently, and sticks a finger into her mouth in a mock gag.

"That's in poor taste," he says.

"I would like to hand in my resignation."

"You can't resign, Lyla. You're a hologram."

She pushes her heart-shaped sunglasses up her nose and blinks out of view, refusing to speak to Miguel for the rest of the day outside of official Society business, and even then she's cranky. You fill the void of conversation with a mixture of nonsensical and merited suggestions, and by the time you leave for the night, his desk is decorated by a rainbow menagerie of paper animals, each one made with care.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading I hope you enjoyed! please consider reblogging if you have the time! <;3 if you have a request of this pairing or other miguel fics and want to share, im eager to see them!

my other miguel fics

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strawbeerossi · 6 months

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Mine

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Description: Whenever the police chief gets a little too friendly with you, you find yourself having a very strict conversation with Spencer at the hotel.

Content/Warnings: Jealous!Spencer, unprotected sex, squirting

Word Count: 1.6K

Kinktober Day Twenty Eight: Squirting

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Spencer felt his eye twitching as he noticed the newest chief of police was all over you. There was a child abduction case in Nashville, Tennessee that the BAU had offered their resources to. It was standard, children going missing and parents getting weird texts the longer their children were kept captive. You were spending a lot of time at the precinct with him due to you being the designated member alongside JJ to interview the families and surviving child victims who were let go.

“So agent. I got a few questions on your profiling abilities.” The man stated as he was leaning against the desk he was closest to, your gaze lifting from the case file the team had been building up over the past few days. “Okay, lay them on me.” You were just being friendly, not being the best at sensing when men were hitting on you or outright flirting. It was both a blessing and a curse. “Is it true that kids in abusive homes are guaranteed to be murderers?”

The question was quick but you were faster to answer. “No! Not in all cases. Stressors and triggers from childhood can play a big part in the psychological damage of a serial killer but there are people who came from relatively good homes who have murdered others in cold blood. There’s no exact genetic makeup or reason yet, but one day I’m sure it’ll all be answered in depth.”

The rest of the day went like that. He’d ask a question and you’d happily answer, although he was essentially eyefucking you while you were too enthralled in an explanation to pay close enough attention. Hotch had eventually instructed the team to go to their hotel for the night, the team needed rest after being awake for nearly twenty four hours without so much as a break.

The SUV ride back was dead silent, mostly because of exhaustion setting in. However, you could sense tension in your boyfriend as you rested your head lightly against his shoulder.

He’d been abnormally quiet at the precinct, barely even looking in your direction when you came near him. You figured it was exhaustion. Not only were you up for long hours but cases involving children were some of the most draining things you’d ever have to go through. After arriving at the hotel and everyone disbanding to get to their rooms, you were unlocking the door and getting your shoes off while Spencer quietly walked deeper into the room.

“Did you want to take a shower first, babe?” You asked, offering a smile.

It faltered though whenever your boyfriend was facing you, fury in his eyes. “Are we not gonna talk about how chief Lorn is shamelessly flirting with you? It’s like you're eating it up! I mean come on, babe. Why would you ever assume he would care about profiling related things?” His tone was steady, yet anger bubbling over the surface. You looked confused, an eyebrow raised. “Flirting? Spencer, he’s asking questions. I think you’re just tired and taking your emotions out on me.”

Very good guess and probably true, however Spencer wouldn’t admit that. “No. I’m not taking out my emotions on you for no reason. You think I don’t see you batting your eyelashes or laughing at anything this guy says? You don’t know how angry it makes me to know how blind you are to these signals.” Blunt. The words had your mouth agape in shock. “I’m not flirting with the damn police chief! Jesus, Spencer.”

“I don’t believe you. You look like you are eating up all the attention. You know, I bet he wouldn’t even treat you the way I do. Do you think he’d spend every waking moment dedicating his life to you? Huh? Do you think he could love you like I do?” His footsteps were quick and his path decided to back you up against the wall. “Cause I know for sure that he can’t make you cum like I do.” His honey colored eyes were blown out with lust, his hands immediately moving to grip your hips tight. “Spencer!” You squeaked, your pussy clenching desperately around nothing as you could feel the heat of arousal coursing through your veins. Spencer hardly ever got jealous like this, however you liked this side of him. He was rough and could be a little mean, which really did get the job done. “Tell me I’m lying.” His eyes narrowed, hand under your chin making you stare up at him.

“I-I wasn’t flirting with anyone! I was just being friendly.” Your voice was barely above a whisper while Spencer sighed and dropped his hand from your chin. “Go get on the bed.” He murmured, already working on getting his tie off. You knew what you were in for. Spencer didn’t act like this much but you knew that special incidents would pull this rather uncharacteristic side out of him. You’d done what you were used to, already stripping yourself down as you were crawling onto the hotel bed while preparing yourself for whatever was coming.

You knew that he wasn’t going to give you the princess treatment like usual, instead Spencer was getting right to business as he was reaching in his bag to pull out a condom from the side pocket and using his teeth to tear it open. After rolling on the rubber, he was heading over to the edge of the bed to grasp your ankle, tugging your body down the mattress. His gaze was focused on your pussy, a low hum leaving his lips. “Look at how wet you are.” His fingers were teasingly running through your slick folds to collect your sweet arousal, holding a hand up to show off the glistening digits. “Now, I wonder who did that..” He playfully pondered while giving his cock a few lazy tugs.

As he was situated between your legs, Spencer was grasping his shaft and smacking it against your pussy before moving to run his tip through your folds to further tease you, your hand gently reaching for his hip. “Fuck, Spencer. Please.” You whined.

That was all he needed to hear, his large hands wrapping your legs around his waist as he readied himself, his right hand on his cock while the left squeezed your hip. As the thick tip was breaching your soaked cunt, the male was shushing your whines. “We haven’t even gotten started yet. Tonight, I’m gonna show you just how much you don’t need some idiotic police chief and learn how to appreciate what you do have.” Jealousy wasn’t something Spencer was proud of but the emotion was prominently on display and he wasn’t gonna hide it.

His hips were slamming against yours without warning, a loud gasp falling from your lips as your head was falling back against the mattress. “Fuck!” You cursed, feeling the burn of his cock stretching out your desperate and leaking pussy from being shoved deep into your warmth. “You think he’d have you acting like this? Look at how desperate you are and I’ve barely touched you.” His voice was low as both hands roughly gripped your hips. Spencer was normally more of the soft and sweet side, however in these sorts of moods, he was different than anyone who really knew him could imagine.

His thrusts were relentless, your pussy sinfully squelching from each rough snap of his hips, your arousal adding a shine to his cock. “Is this what you wanted? To be fucked like a cheap whore?” The vulgarity alone was making your stomach do flips. This was the man who was bashful with saying the word bitch, yet here he was, cursing and calling you a whore. You wouldn’t complain at all, mainly because you couldn’t.

With his onslaught of assaulting your cunt, you were letting out a series of moans, shaky whines, and pleas for him not to stop. Your skin was flushed, nails digging into your partner’s shoulders as you were in pure bliss. “Look at you. You like it when I abuse your cunt, don’t you? Want to be used like the whore you are? Fuck,” He huffed out, lips smashing against yours as he wasted no time practically shoving his tongue in your mouth while slamming his cock into your pussy, slamming into the spot where you needed him most.

The feeling of your walls constricting and spasming around his cock was like a dream. Spencer was sensitive, so he loved feeling your gummy walls and being able to have them gripping at his shaft, your desperate pussy making an attempt to suck in more of his dick even though it just wasn’t possible.

You were seeing stars, a familiar heat brewing in the pit of your stomach. However, you weren’t able to speak, only being reduced to blubbering about being close, even so the words were slurred together and still hard read. Thankfully, Spencer knew exactly what you were trying to convey, a hand coming down between your sweaty bodies as he was quick to press his finger against your clit, the pressure on the bundle of nerves causing you to whine desperately.

However what happened next was something that even snapped Spencer out of his jealous haze.

He was in the midst of roughly fucking into you whenever your legs were shaking violently, your nails dragging down his back as your body arched from the bed while hitting your orgasm. Instead of making a creamy mess of his cock, there was a gush of arousal that painted his thighs, pelvis, your thighs, and the hotel bedsheets below you. Spencer was slowly coming to a stop while staring at you with wide eyes.

“You’ve never done that before!” He squeaked, his eyes casting down at the glistening of your arousal painting his skin. You were fucked out, your eyes glossed over as you opened your mouth to speak, however a moan falling out soon after.

“No, no. We are doing that again!”

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guillotine-drop · 3 months

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Ranking New Vegas companions by their alcohol tolerance

Arcade - 6/10: Hear me out, Arcade is a fairly big guy and between his genetics and the work he does, he’s bound to have some weight behind him. Do I think he’s going toe to toe with the average Wrangler patron? No, but I do think you could sit him down with a bottle of wine and by the end he’d be juuuuust tipsy enough to follow you into that Nightstalker cave with minimal complaints.

Boone - 4/10: Despite being a miserable boot boy with a dead wife, I think Boone is on the lower end of alcohol tolerance solely because he’s a sniper; I feel as though the job description means that you can’t exactly be swaying with your shots, so his tolerance would be piss poor. You could probably get him to drink a 12 pack with you, but just watch out: he might start showing a human emotion, and that’ll be uncomfortable for both of you.

Cass - 8/10: There’s something to be said about the fact that you need at least 8 Endurance to be able to beat her at the drinking contest to recruit her. Obviously she can hold her liquor, but I WILL dock points for being sloppy about it. (Girl how did you manage to wake up with a random soldier after the battle??? Don’t you know what your mailman looks like???) Share the whiskey but make sure you loop her belt around a pipe or something so she doesn’t run off.

Veronica - 3/10: I love Veronica. I love her so much. I don’t think she can hold her liquor to save her life. I think Ronnie is a ‘3 drinks and she’s out’ kind of girl. That being said, I also think that she could probably get through most of a box of hard seltzers before she starts feeling it, and I think she’d shotgun them with her Power Fist to be funny.

Raul - 10/10: He’s a ghoul, he’s old, and he’s miserable 95% of the time. I think if you handed him a bottle of Dubious Liquid he wouldn’t even hesitate to drink it. I think he’s drank rubbing alcohol just to see what would happen. I think if you give him a totally intact, unopened, top shelf bottle of tequila, he’d have to excuse himself to the other room for a minute. Definitely the one I’d want to go drinking with.

Lily - 15/10: Mamaw’s 7 feet tall and 500 pounds of sheer muscle with a super mutant metabolism, I don’t even think conventional liquor would affect her tbh. I think she’s drinking that Jacobstown Moonshine that melts spoons and eats through glass. I think she could drink a can of turpentine and it would be like a White Claw. Go grandma, but for the love of god not to the bar. I do NOT have the caps for that.

Rex - 6/10: Okay hear me out (again). He’s an old as hell cyber dog who went through multiple owners, he’s probably got more metal than organs, and the last guys who had him were Elvis impersonators who do fuckall all day but day drink and watch each other do cabaret. You look me in the face and tell me that dog hasn’t had more booze pass through his system than the average wastelander. It’s still only a 6/10 because he shouldn’t be getting it, but are you gonna tell him no? Look at that face. And lower your glass.

ED-E - 0/10: Please do not pour liquor into the orb.

#yeah dude #fallout #fnv #new vegas #arcade gannon #craig boone #rose of sharon cassidy #veronica santangelo #raul tejada #lily bowen #rex fallout new vegas #ed e

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cupcakeinat0r · 1 month

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A Nerdy Middle-aged loser Miguel with a dad bod who teaches your genetics class

Head Canons!

Professor O’Hara was an intimidating man, to say the least. Despite his menacing exterior, he came highly recommended and sought after as a professor due to his ability to clearly get the material across. At times, it felt cutthroat, but he only meant well. He was just very passionate about his job and wanted everyone to learn.

You didn’t think he was scary at all. In fact, that first day of lecture, you new you were doomed. All you saw was a poor, misunderstood, teddy bear of a man. You thought it was so endearing how his glasses sat low on the bridge of his nose, or how he filled out his button ups and vests: equal parts of muscle and squish <3

n you totally stared at his huge butt and dick print oops what I didn’t say that what-

Professor O’Hara who’s scowl would melt away when you’d hurry into class, completely dismissing that fact that you were late. People who had him previously would be so confused that the Miguel O’Hara is stumbling on his own words during a lecture. Little did they know that it was because you, his very pretty and very eager student, was sitting front row and center. You’d fix your hair or apply lip gloss hoping you’d get his attention, and you succeeded.

Professor O’Hara thought you were so cute. He loved the way you dressed, the way you’d raise your hand and ask such good questions, the way you took notes, making them look equally as adorable as you. It didn’t help that you were a total ace in his class. Your brains n beauty were going straight to both of his heads……..

Professor O’Hara who although was naturally pretty distant and quiet with students, was trying very hard to be vocal with you, making sure to let you know when you were doing good. “Good job today, Mama.” “Thank you for being so involved in class today, mama, I appreciate it.” “Aye, Mama, make sure you get some sleep before the quiz tomorrow, mkay?” “Have a safe weekend, mama, and please, if you need anything, you have my email. It doesn’t matter what time it is.” and if he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud, he’d definitely leave notes for you when handing back your work <3

Professor O’Hara who now wakes up earlier and takes longer to get ready in the morning. For you. He would put on his most expensive cologne knowing you liked to ask for help. You’d smell it every time he bent over your desk behind you, enough so that the timbre of his low voice tickled your ear and his belly just barely grazing your back.

Professor O’Hara who was developing his own crush on you, even though it was definitely wrong. Besides, you were a model. He was convinced that even if he were a student, he wouldn’t have a chance with you.

Professor O’Hara who always felt his eyes gravitating toward you in the mass of seats when lecturing, as if he forgot what you looked like and needed to see your face again. You’d tilt your head n give him a smile each time he did, as if telling him you’re following along, and this rattled him. He’d smile back right before shying away from your gaze, clearing his throat and starting wherever he left off on in his lesson. You thought that was cute.

Professor O’Hara who was always there for you when you were troubled, his office becoming a place you frequented for comfort. He was a great ear, elbows on his knees and brows furrowed as he listened to your trials and tribulations. Pobrecita preciosa. He hated seeing you this way. His bear hugs always seemed to make the troubles go away.

Professor O’Hara who would praise you after seeing all the work you put into his class. Anytime you were stressed, he’d take you some place other than his office to relax, maybe buy you some tea or your favorite pastry. He’d take those opportunities to learn more about you, asking you in a gentle, sweet tone about your other studies, your goals, your life etc. he’d hopelessly fall for you even more when watching you speak about things you were passionate about, seeing how your eyes sparkled. He’d try to keep his composure by maintaining a stoic expression, but a small smile would crack every time. He was a melting mess.

Professor O’Hara who would keep all your assignments and reread them at home since you liked to leave him little notes like, “ So lucky to have you as a professor” “Amazing class today!” “Looking forward to our tutoring sesh tmw<3”, the curvy letters of your pretty hand writing feeding into his desires for you, those same desires going from wholesome to more lustful.

Professor O’Hara, who’s walls you break down with your kindness, intelligence, humility, and beauty. He’d play with your hair during tutoring sessions, buy you things that reminded him of you, call you ‘mama’ when no one else was around. He loved the way you knit your brows together telling him he shouldn’t be spending money on you as he’s already doing so much for you already, to which he replies, “You deserve it, and more, mama”.

Professor O’Hara who, when you stay after class to help him clean (because you volunteered to, otherwise, Miguel would never let you lift even a finger because you’re a princess), instead of picking up stray mechanical pencils, he would imagine you picking up stranded toys in the living room. He’d imagine what it’s like living life with you, having a life with you, then immediately shoo those absurd thoughts away after realizing he’s falling for you after only months of knowing you.

Professor O’Hara who genuinely cares about your well-being, wants to see you succeed and get everything you want and deserve. Who wants the absolute best for you.

A/n: Just some hcs before I continue the story…. I won’t edge y’all for long so just bear w meeeeee <3333

Tags <3

@safixiovi @mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @maomaimao @pomakori @rxckstarss @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @ce3stvu @m4dyy @kaidxra

Want more DadBod!Miguel? Here’s my master list, bae!!!

#miguel o'hara #professor!miguel #dadbod!miguel #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara fanfiction #atsv #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara headcanon #miguel o’hara atsv #spider man 2099 #miguel fic #miguel fanfic #miguel o’hara x y/n

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nrnyx · 7 months

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PROMPT: How about Derek and Stiles meeting at a dog adoption event and falling in love over the same dog.

Thank you @steelcodewolf-blog for the prompt!

Stiles ran up to the counter and slammed his application down. “For Sparky!” he gasped out of breath as he’d just sprinted the entire mile to the adoption agency after his jeep broke down. It was finally the day. Stiles was free of his lease agreement and moving into a pet-friendly apartment. He could have a dog - his dog because he’d been visiting Sparky for months now after seeing his cute picture online.

The animal shelter staff held Sparky as long as they could for him, but he’d been warned that today was their big adoption fair, and Sparky would be part of the group being pushed hardest for adoption. Sparky had already been with them for nearly a year before Stiles showed up, and before that, poor Sparky had been shipped from another shelter in New York. The shelter couldn’t hold him if someone wanted to adopt him.

Stiles hadn’t been too worried. One of the reasons Sparky was still around was because he was a rather large and somewhat alarming German Shepard mix that might have actually been a wolf-dog, but the shelter didn’t have the funds to test his genetics, to be sure. Sparky had never been aggressive or tried to attack anyone. He was a chill dog that loved belly rubs, so he remained up for adoption.

The staff even said that Stiles was the only person Sparky had ever shown an interest in. Sparky didn’t really like toys, wasn’t interested in other dogs or attention of any kind really, but he liked Stiles. The staff said he already knew the sound of Stiles's jeep and only ever bothered barking to alert them that Stiles was coming. Stiles adored the old grump right back and had visited him at least once every few days with the hopes that no one else would take notice of just how awesome Sparky was.

Being a newly graduated college student and an intern with the FBI didn’t exactly bring in the big bucks yet, so Stiles had to wait for his lease to be up in order to find a new place to live that allowed pets. He’d managed to scrape up enough extra money for the rather hefty pet deposit and had Sparky a new bed, food, and dog tags waiting for him in the jeep, which they would have to walk back to, but he was sure Sparky would like the chance to stretch his legs.

It was going to be awesome.

Martha’s face fell as soon as she realized it was him, and Stiles felt his heart falling right along with her look of pity. “Stiles…” she started, but Stiles didn’t give her time to finish.

“Where’s Sparky? Please tell me you didn’t give him to some stranger off the street! I’ve been coming in for months!” Stiles protested in disbelief. How could they betray him? He thought they were all rooting for him and Sparky. He’d told them he would be in by the end of the day. They promised that even if someone tried to adopt, they wouldn’t let Sparky leave the same day. They’d make an excuse to hold him as long as they could for Stiles.

“I’m so sorry, Stiles. I know how excited you’ve been. This must be so heartbreaking for you, but his dad showed up,” the woman explained with actual tears in her eyes.

Stiles couldn’t find his voice. That had been the last thing he’d expected to hear. “His dad?” he finally managed to get out. “His dad?”

“Yes, he had proof -”

“He lost him! He lost him for over a year, and you’re just going to let him walk in and take him! Just like that? Clearly, the guy wasn’t a responsible dog parent to begin with. I mean, what kind of evidence did this guy have?”

“Uh Stiles…” Martha tried to interrupt, but Stiles was on a roll. There was no way Sparky was going anywhere with anyone but him.

“Because photos can be photoshopped, and videos can be falsified. I know! I work for the FBI. Who is this guy? I want to see some I.D. and this so-called evidence. No one is leaving here with Sparky until I hear this assholes side of the story because there’s no way Sparky - ”

“Jacks,” a male voice spoke up from beside him, and Stiles was momentarily left speechless as he turned and caught sight of, frankly, the most attractive guy he’d ever seen in his entire life, and he’d gone to school with Jackson Whittmore.

“Holy shit, adopt me,” Stiles mumbled before his brain-to-mouth filter could catch up.

The guy's eyebrows did something impressive. “What?”

“What?” Stiles asked back equally as dumbfounded. Honestly, he was just as surprised as anyone at what came out of his mouth sometimes.

“Stiles, uhh… meet Sparky’s… I’m sorry. I mean Jacks’s dad, Derek Hale,” Martha introduced as Stiles's big brain tried to get back online. “Apparently, Jacks was stolen about a year ago. His dad’s been looking for him ever since. He tracked him down here all the way from New York. Crazy, right?” Martha laughed nervously as she looked between the two.

Stiles eyed Derek Hale for a long moment and already felt himself accepting this new disappointing reality. The guy looked like Sparky’s dad. They both had a certain wolfishness about them that was undeniable. Honestly, Derek Hale had to be the most dedicated dog dad in the world to have tracked his lost dog all the way across the continent.

Stiles felt himself deflating. “I’m glad you guys are reunited. I’m sure Sparky - I mean Jacks is pumped to see you again.”

Derek fished his phone from his pocket and turned it so Stiles could see the screen saver, which was truthfully the most adorable picture of the two together and obviously happy. “After he was taken, it took me a while to track him down. I found out that a shelter in New York shipped him to the West Coast, thinking he’d have a better chance of being adopted, but they couldn’t tell me where he ended up. I started checking shelters in Washington and was working my way down the coast when I saw an ad for today’s event. Jacks picture was part of it.”

“I’m glad you found him,” Stiles offered again, unable to look at the guy as he said it even though he did mean it. He couldn’t even get that kind of dedication out of a boyfriend. This guy was like a superhero or something. “Cool, well I gotta go…”

Derek opened his mouth to say something, but Jimmy from the back was calling for him. Stiles knew Jimmy was the one who typically got the adopted dogs ready and brought them out to greet their new owners. He needed to get out of there. Stiles didn’t think he could say goodbye to Sparky- well, Jacks, which was a much more suitable and dignified name, he supposed.

Derek, with his man stubble and leather jacket, looked like a guy who would own a dog named Jacks.

More proof that they fit together.

While Derek was distracted, Stiles slipped away, shoulders slumped as he started the long walk back to his jeep. About halfway there, a familiar bark froze him in his tracks. Stiles turned just in time to see a black pickup slowing down to a stop beside him. The passenger window was down, and Jacks's big head was sticking out of it.

“Do you live around here?” Derek called from the driver's side as he leaned out of the way of Jack’s aggressively thumping tail.

Jacks whined, and Stiles immediately reached out to soothe him, running a hand over his massive ears and scratching how he knew Jacks liked. This earned him a great big lick across his face in return. Stiles laughed, swatting playfully, but Jacks only pushed closer, beginning to lick Stiles in earnest.

“That’s amazing. The shelter told me about you visiting him. I didn’t believe them at first. Jacks has never taken to… well, anyone else really,” Derek spoke up again, amusement clear in his voice as Stiles tried to fend off all the affection being lavished on him. Jacks had never been quite this excited to see him either, but it was a very welcome shift after the heartbreak he’d been feeling a moment ago.

At least Stiles knew Jacks would miss him too. “Yeah, me and him… we kind of bonded while he was waiting on you.” Stiles shrugged in reply taking a small step back and almost giving in again when Jacks whined in protest.

Derek glanced at Jacks, before reaching out and patting him on the back in a reassuring way. “They said he was pretty depressed before you came around. Wasn’t eating much or leaving his kennel,” Derek explained. Stiles hadn’t known that part, but he was glad he helped Jacks until Derek found him. It was at least some comfort he could take home with him.

“I should uh… get back to my jeep,” Stiles said, pointing his thumb in the direction he was walking.

As much as he liked seeing Jacks he really wanted to get home and have a good cry in private. Not only was he losing Jacks, but Jacks owner happened to be an insanely hot guy right out of Stiles's fantasies and entirely out of his league. It just reminded Stiles of exactly how lonely he was these days. Loneliness and his last breakup had been the whole reason Stiles was on the shelter’s page looking at adoptable dogs in the first place.

“It’s parked a little down the road. I need to call a tow,” Stiles felt the need to explain, hoping his ears weren’t as red as they probably were. It was a bit embarrassing, but the jeep had been his mom’s, and he only had a few more years as a lowly FBI intern before he could afford to get it fixed properly. Maybe he could get his pet deposit back. That would help pay for the tow truck he was going to need to call.

Derek leaned over to unlatch the door. “Hop in. I’ll drive you down there and take a look. I’m a mechanic.”

Stiles couldn’t help how his mouth fell open. Could this guy be any more perfect? The only thing that would be better was if he were -

“And maybe you’ll let me and Jacks take you to dinner… you know, as a thank you for looking out for him.” Derek sent him a wolfish smile that had probably seduced the panties off of hundreds of college co-eds back in his day. Stiles wasn’t embarrassed to admit that he could now be bunched into that category.

“Uhh yeah okay…” Because what else was he going to say. Jacks moved over a bit to give him room, and as soon as Stiles settled, he had a lap full of wolfdog.

Derek threw his head back and laughed. “Doesn’t look like he’s going to be letting you leave so easily.”

Stiles cleared away the lump in his throat and buried his face in Jacks soft fur. “I don’t mind.”

#sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek au #sterek fanfiction #sterek fanfic #eternal sterek #stiles x derek #derek x stiles #sterek fic #sterek prompt #steelcodewolf-blog #getting my sterek mojo back

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anemonelovesfiction · 11 months

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I’ve Neglected you Far Too Long

Ao’nung x Hybrid Fem! Reader

No mentions of Y/n though but its implied. Obviously they’re adults- I quite literally mention Ao’nung has tattoo’s. And obviously theres some smut.

Kind of like an arranged marriage scenario. Any words in English are stricken through. If they’re in italics its just emphasis on that word. Starts off with a bit of background, smut is near the end lol, but its a lot of it.

Word count: 9.2K because I got carried away.

I would say it started with my birth. I was granted the luck of being born Kiri’s twin, with a few minor setbacks, although to Neytiri they were enough to refuse taking me in as her own. I was born with the size and appearance of a human- but I was a halfbreed. My features were human but I was the one born with fangs and I had a kuru as well but it was relative to my size, it was still encased in a big braid and reached past my butt, almost mid thigh, yet still had the natives squinting to see it.

If it wasn’t for Jake pointing out that I had a queue and didn’t need an exomask to breathe, one of the Metkayina warriors would have thrown their spear, killing me. I was captured alongside Spider, when they put me in the machine they’d put Spider in, it awakened some telekinetic abilities I didn’t know I had.

But they’re tied to my emotions and I could only ever really use them if I felt strongly about something. Which is why I was able to help kill most of the humans that had hunted the tulkun, I had enough of their interrogations and abuse.

After losing Neteyam, Ronal and Tonowari welcomed the Sully’s into the Metkayina, and were willing to accommodate for Spider only if I were to marry their son. Their reason being that my telekinetic abilities - which seemed to surpass Kiri’s in their eyes- could protect their clan and son if anything like that happened again.

Ronal disliked that I was half human, she didn’t really want me to marry her son with my outward appearance- like one of the tawtute- sky people- but if I could be used to protect her dear son, thats all that mattered to her, keeping her lineage going.

“We could unite the reef clans and forest people.”

Were Neytiri’s words after Ronal had brought up her reasoning. Tonowari had stayed silent with his hands on his knee’s. It was Ronal’s idea for them to kneel so I wouldn’t feel intimidated by their height, but I’m shorter than most humans, so they were still a good head taller than me, maybe two.

“Of course this is your choice, kid.” Jake stated carefully, his hand movements mimicking that of a calm ultimatum, and this was anything but.

I nodded once, then walked out of the tent and sat by the beach. I couldn’t think of anyone other than Spider. If he were to go back to the Omaticaya, he’s be lonely. His entire life revolved around the Sully’s and I couldn’t risk him being kicked out, and I refused to spend any more time away from my sister.

I’d gotten an earful from Neytiri that day about being disrespectful to the clan leaders for leaving the way I did. I had no idea how to respond and she despised me- had I looked like Kiri I’m sure the story would be different, but I’m not like her, my genetics decided to mute the blue and because of that, I’d forever be treated as a human by Neytiri- even if I could breathe the same air as her, even if I can make tsaheylu.

And it has lead me to being bathed in scents that Ao’nung found pleasing. Neytiri and Jake were allowed to voice their opinion on the matter and Jake had mentioned that this smelled of raspberries back on earth.

As tradition, the mother of the groom and any female sibling, or honorary females washed the bride in the scents and got her ready for her soon-to-be husband. And all of the males near and dear to my heart would do the same to the groom. In this case I had told them not to do anything to change his appearance and to leave him as is. Even if he’d made up with Lo’ak, I could never forget the face he made after finding out he was betrothed to me. The shock in his face said it all, he didn’t want me, and I didn’t want him either but at least I was cordial about it.

I had no idea how big of a celebration this would be. Everyone from the clan walked up and wished blessings upon us, a fruitful- and fertile- marriage. I’m glad I stuck around with Spider and learned Na’Vi while we were kids as a lot of the well wishes were very long and I’d kick myself in the face if I had to childishly reply with broken Na’Vi.

Nothing happened that night.

Don’t get me wrong I’m excited and happy we didn’t do what I was told married couples do by Neytiri. She went into greater detail than Norm did about mating as a Na’Vi and how the tsaheylu was a crucial part of becoming connected to ones mate. Most nights I was ignored and we’d go to sleep on separate mats. I’d need to start Tsahik training but I’d need to learn the things Tsireya had learned when she was younger and work my way up in rank. Because of this, Lo’ak was in the lead of becoming Olo’eyktan considering he’s earned their trust and Tsireya knew more about healing.

_________

“The tattoo’s have different meanings and what one curve could mean for someone, it could be translated differently in another clan members markings.” Tsireya mentions while showing me two nearly identical tattoo’s.

“These are almost identical.” I stated blankly and giggled, placing her hand over her mouth to hide her laughter.

“Yes but you noticed the difference between the two, you said almost. Explain what you see.” She asks.

“This one has what appears to be a smoother execution. This one seems bold, like you used a darker ink? It has jagged edges too.”

“The first one was for a warrior who had just had his inknimaya. Everything went well for him and the skimwing he had bonded with. For the second, not so much, he experienced much pain and eventually managed to execute it perfectly.”

“The second tattoo is slightly bigger, could this indicate multiple tries to his inknimaya?”

“You are a quick learner.” Tsireya smiles at me and I smile back. It wasn’t hard to be genuine around her and she made it hard to hate her. She’s seen me naked more times than my own husband, and she’d only seen me before I got married to him.

By the end of the lesson she struggles to get on her feet from kneeling in front of me and I feel terrible.

“You don’t always have to kneel for us to be the same height, Tsireya. If you wanted to stand I wouldn’t mind.” This isn’t the first time I tell her.

“I need to be flexible.” She states happily.

“For who, Lo’ak?” I ask and start laughing at her embarrassed face.

“I’m sorry, Rey, but these jokes just come naturally to me, I can’t stop them when my tongue is faster than my mind.” I giggle as she huffs and turns her head.

“I’ll make the same jokes when you are with child.”

“No you won’t.” Partly because I’ve yet to consummate my marriage. “I don’t even know if we could have kids considering I’m a half-breed that looks human.” I stated aloud.

“Toruk Macto is a half breed.” She states as if it were obvious.

“Yes, but he has the appearance of a native. It’s easier for him to blend in. Lo’ak is also a half breed and he too can hide with the rest of the Na’Vi. I’m-“ I stop myself before saying anything too harsh, or she’d scold me. “-different.”

“The kind of different my brother needs in his life. Keep trying for children and I will pray that the great mother blesses you!” She says over enthused.

“Sure.” I stated simply, smiling at her. We said our goodbyes and I headed off toward his marui pod.

_________

“Where have you been?”

“With your sister. Learning.” I stated, I’ve grown to know Ao’nung likes short answers and to never bother him when he was entranced with something- whether it was learning a new trick on a skimwing or sparring. I placed my medical bag down- Kiri made this one for me as a present and I never went anywhere without it.

I can feel his eyes on me while I search in a big box for some herbs to refill my bag. The bag hangs over my chest and does a good job of hiding my stomach- not that its big, I hide it from the sun since I’m often exposed. I’d learned to wear traditional clothes and the loincloths were made in children's size due to my stature. The top was something Kiri had to teach me to make- it resembles a human sports bra but matching my loincloth.

My loincloth was traditional in every sense except it didn’t have a hole for a tail, but it still adjusted and tied off on the side, just like everyone else's.

“Are you hurt?” I ask him once I refill my bag and look up to face him. I’d known of his tattoo’d arms but the one on his face was new. It made his eyes pop and he looked handsome- but that didn’t matter.

“What?” He asks as of he hadn’t heard me before.

“Are you hurt. Do you need something from me?” I asked him and he understands what I mean.

“No.” He answers and turns his face toward the side to look at the floor of his- our, because it technically is ours- marui.

“Then I will head out and assist.” I answered not really caring to give him a chance to respond- let alone process- what I said. But he was faster than I was and his hand reached around my bicep and that stopped me.

He was never one to touch me. Not when it came to helping me learn the way of his village, not now, and not even on our wedding night. I press my teeth on my tongue to prevent myself from saying something smart and I turn to face him. I refuse to talk as I’d always found some way to offend him with whatever I said so I waited for him to speak.

“Do you resent me?” He asks simply and this question is a slap to my face. My face only forms in confusion as my eyebrows knit together and my eyes squint slightly.

“I don’t-“ I began but stopped myself from speaking as he lets go of my bicep. I look over at his hand and back at him feeling more confusion than ever.

“I see.” He answers plainly and I furrow my brows some more before raising one and looking at him.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to.” He answers simply and I feel like I’d immediately done something wrong again. “Your face said everything your words could not.”

“But-“

“You should go out and assist my sister. Let her know I held you back if she asks why you are late.” He states before walking past me and heading out the opening of the marui with his spear.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding once the curtain fell shut again. Of course I resented him, he was rude, underestimated me in everything, and never made an effort to get to know me. But I hadn’t said any of that to his face and I was in control of my emotions and knew I didn’t make a face of disgust- but why did he ask the question in the first place?

_________

“Did you talk to her?” Spider asks as soon as Ao’nung joins the hunting party. Due to his inability to bond with the animals he often rode with Lo’ak.

“Yes.” Ao’nung answered.

“Is she coming to the party tonight?” Lo’ak asks after lightly nudging between Spider’s hips to quiet the grown man in front of him, he sure was nosey today.

“I did not ask.” Ao’nung answers and Spider grumbles.

“The whole point was to-“ Spider stops himself when Lo’ak’s Ilu immediately surges forward. And the hunt began.

_________

“Theres a lot of people gathering for something outside. Was there something planned for today? Did I have to do something?” I asked nervously once Ao’nung had come into the marui. He must have showered at some point because he didn’t smell like sea air like he usually does after a hunting trip.

“The celebration of our union.” Is all he says while placing his spear on the wall along with his others.

“But we-“

“It’s what you call an Annie-server.” He states in his best english and given the severity of my nerves I couldn’t find the way he fudged up the words funny at this time.

“It hasn’t been a year yet-“ I stop myself as he walks over to pick the accessories he never touches, taking the ones he has on and replacing them with those.

“Has it?” I ask myself quietly.

“It has.” He answers and stops in front of me. One hand on my shoulder but its immediately removed when I look at it.

“Please put these on.” He hands me a matching pair, the one from our wedding- union as they call it. It’s supposed to show that we are harmonious. I try to tie the bands on my anklet together but my fingers keep fumbling and I let out a frustrated sigh.

“Let me help you.” He sits in front of me and offers his hand to take my leg.

“No-“ He takes my leg after letting out a small hiss of his own and sets it on top of his thigh where he leans over and carefully ties the bands together. His hands on my ankle sends a shiver up my spine.

“It’s only done the first year. They will ask invasive questions. I’m glad my sister convinced you to use the soap. Come.” He stands quickly and heads over to the entrance of the marui.

He holds the flap of the curtain open for me to walk through. I was going to comment on why his hair was undone but was met with a bunch of cheers and a celebratory song. I’m awestruck as the clan starts parting and a walkway is created for me. I follow them and end up near the front.

“We have come to celebrate the night this union was made one year ago.” Ronal smiles big at the clan as she announces her words.

“It is time to take on the tradition of the couples.” Tonowari joins in and the crowd basically goes wild. I stand with a fake smile plastered on my face.

“Ao’nung. Face your bride.” Tonowari speaks once more and he steps up in front of me before kneeling respectfully taking my hand and kissing it, making a majority of the girls awe at his gesture, but I knew better, it was a show. I let go of his hand quickly and awaited further instruction.

“This is our clans best kept secret. You will braid his hair to your liking as a symbol of life's twists and turns bringing you together. And he is to maintain the hairstyle or one similar for the rest of his life as his devotion to you.” Ronal states.

My eyes widened and I’m fucked. I can braid for sure, all thanks to Tuk, Kiri, and Neteyam consistently asking me to braid their hair often, but I didn’t know about this was a requirement. If Lo’ak and Tsireya were to have wedded before myself and Ao’nung I would have expected this. But they married about four weeks after we did. And Ao’nung doesn’t let anyone touch his hair. My eyes wandered over to find his staring back at me and I looked down releasing quiet but heavy exhale.

“But before we start, you are to drink this.” Ronal hands me a cup thats decently sized, still huge in comparison to me but good enough to grab.

“This is made up of many many plants and fruits from our clan and has been prayed over with many blessings poured into it from the beginning of the process.” Ronal informs me.

“This drink is to be shared between the two of you. You will speak many blessings in it yourself- in a hushed voice, take a drink and you will hand it off to your mate to receive the blessings.” Ronal smiles and hands the cup over to me.

I’m nervous as shit and am worried I might say the wrong thing but am glad it doesn’t have to be shared aloud. And I take a look into the cup and see the deep red liquid inside and sigh.

“Treat me like the mate I ought to be treated and my face won’t show resentment again.” I whispered into it and took a big chug- considering there was a lot of liquid in there.

I walk over toward Ao’nung and hand him the cup I’d just drank from and he drinks the rest. The cheers coming from the crowd make my tummy tingle and I start feeling weird. I should probably ask Tsireya what kinds of things were included in there to see if its compatible with my human half.

“You may begin.” Tonowari gently nods his head once at me and I nod.

“Could-“ I stop myself and Ao’nungs eyes are burning in mine and nervously chuckle, averting my eyes once more.

“Could you please turn so I can reach your head, Yawne?” I blush harshly at that and the positive whispers in the crowd are making me feel uncomfortable, but I always had to put on a show for them. Ao’nung nods once and does as I ask and I put myself to work.

His tail wraps loosely on my calf and it feels warm. I’m sure this is all for the sake of appearance but it makes it feel like it’s a smidge hard to breathe. I won’t lie, after a long day of chores, or whatever strenuous activity Ao’nung has done his hair looks the best right before he showers. Pieces of it have come out of the braids and are clinging to his face by his sweat- no, stop it.

I’d worked diligently and managed to create the hairstyle he always wears. Except some of the braids on the sides twist to form X’s.

“You barely changed it.” Ao’nung states after feeling around and turning to face me.

“This is how you look best, to me.” I admit.

“Especially when some of these,“ I gently yank out the loose pieces I’d failed to tuck in properly. “Slip out. Like after you finish working.” I find myself gingerly placing my hand on his cheek, I look down at his lips and my eyes slightly widen at my own actions before I remove my hand slowly, making my movements not show how we truly are with one another, and taking a step back.

Several one of the younger girls had held on to the boys courting them and mentioned how they wanted a love like ours and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. If only they knew what our Love really was.

“The last thing for you to do is to decide which one of these your mate has prepared. This will also test to see how well you notice our signature hunting mark.” Tsireya steps back and reveals three fish total that had been cooked. If he managed to hunt with Lo’ak and Spider I’d be more willing to pick out Spiders pathetic excuse of a hunt since he did things the human way. Then I’d have to compare it to Lo’ak’s which might resemble both clans hunting and preparing skills into one and choose the one that least resembled the two. But if they decided to choose at random from other clansmen, I’m screwed.

It suddenly felt like my body temperature had risen and I could feel the slight stickiness that forms on my skin before I start sweating and I feel slightly uncomfortable. I take a look at the three and can tell which one Spider made and fight the urge to giggle. He has talent, but sometimes massacres his huntings, whether he did this on purpose or not I’m thankful to Eywa.

The next two are hard to tell as they’re on similar plates and dished the same. So I focus in depth on the one in the middle and notice it’s one of Lo’ak’s favorite fish to hunt and I want to look at the boy and thank him, but instead look up to Tsireya and smile.

“The one on the left.” I point to it and she smiles back.

“How do you know?” Tsireya asks.

“The cutting pattern is one he chooses often and he knows this is my favorite fish.” I hold a hand on my chest for sentimental value.

The party continued without a hitch and I started feeling hotter by the second before excusing myself while everyone was either drunk, picking at the food table, dancing, or even singing I managed to slide my feet in the water and felt myself cool down significantly.

“Enjoying your anniversary?” Lo’ak asks me as he comes up behind me.

“Sure. Just glad its you and not any nosey person asking me invasive questions. I had an elder ask me if he’s good in bed. I had to lie to someone about my non-existent sex life.”

Lo’ak lets out a laugh and places his arm around me. For being more human appearing than him he always treated me as an equal. I appreciate him for doing that, even if I wasn’t technically adopted alongside Kiri, he always called me his sister.

“What was in that drink?” I asked him and he shrugs.

“I thought you’d know, but I think Tsireya said something about it containing an aphrodisiac?” Lo’ak states and I laugh.

“Come on bro,”

“I’m deadass.”

“Even if it did, nothings coming out of it. He hates my guts.” I sigh and bring my knees to my chest.

“He can’t possibly hate you.”

“Yes he does! Every morning I wake up he’s not there. Every time before bedtime I set out his mat since he comes home after I’ve passed out- and I know this because I’ll wake up in the middle of the night and see him on the opposite side of the room dead asleep.”

“Okay but what about that time you said he cuddled you.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why not?” He asks.

_________

I lied shivering getting up frequently due to the cold air and having to pee. Ao’nung had come in quite late and I’d woken up for the upteenth time tired as hell and unable to warm myself up.

“Why do you keep getting up. Either stay up or stay asleep.” Ao’nung complains and turns around harshly. I didn’t bother responding as I figured sleep was more important than being petty.

But when I’d finally get comfortable and dozed off, I’d wake up with my teeth chattering and my body shaking, trying to keep warm.

“Aren’t you a half-breed? Why are you still making sounds!” He asks angrily.

“Because I’m still half human! I can withstand colder temperatures than humans can but not by much. Trust me when I tell you I’d much rather be held in captivity and tortured than to be here with you. At least they gave me blankets.” I grumble and get up to go pee once more.

I’d decided to take a long time returning but even when I’d figured he was asleep, as soon as I stepped inside he turned to face me, it looked like he might have been pacing- but I couldn’t be too sure. I’m just glad I went pee before coming back in.

“We do not have blankets right now, but we are often very warm. Maybe if I-“ He gulps. “If I held you, you would not be making noises with your teeth.” He explains.

_________

“Did you take him up on his offer?” Lo’ak asks and I push him.

“I had to. And the next day I asked your mom how the hell I could hand knit a blanket and she made a huge one, thinking it was for us to share. But I didn’t have to bother him on cooler nights again.

“But he did care for you, he came up with a solution.”

“A solution so he could get sleep and my teeth would stop chattering.” I roll my eyes.

“Okay but your favorite fish for today, explain that.” Lo’ak crosses his arms.

“I could easily tell Spider’s mutilation from yours.” I roll my eyes. “And He asked me two days ago what my favorite fish was. I know he hates when I take to long to explain myself- probably because he hates the sound of my voice, so I told him in one simple answer.”

“Did he tell you that?” Lo’ak asks.

_________

“I think I like the tulip thorn because of the way it glows at night. But the stem is also pretty with the way it wraps around and creates a mini shelter. Tuk and I used to take some leaves and tie them down to make a fort and-“

“It was a simple question. I don’t need a story attached to every answer you give me.” He stated harshly.

“Oh,” I state and do a little reflection and cringe at the many times I’d gone off on tangents while talking to him. Or the times when he’d straight up turned and walked out and I’d been left talking to myself for Eywa knows how long.

_________

“You could say that.” I answered back shortly as I didn’t want to bore yet another Na’Vi with my stories.

“Thats all you have to say?” He asks.

“I can tell you just about every negative encounter I had with him and they start from the moment I met him and lead up to this morning. I try to stay out of his way as much as possible. Its all he wants anyway.” I shrug.

“What if he didn’t?” He asks and I look at him wondering what joke he had in mind this time. Tears start to fill my eyes and threaten to fall.

“I don’t think I need a joke about my marriage, Lo’ak.” My voice wavers no matter how strong I wanted to sound.

“Hey, Hey, Hey-“ He’s quick to kneel in front of me and places his hands on my shoulders.

“I wish I could have a love story like you and Reya, or even your parents.”

“I wasn’t making a joke, I swear.”

“I can’t blame you. I’ll never know what its like to be loved.” The tears slide down my cheeks with ease. “I’m stuck with a mate who hates my guts and wishes I was a native with three fingers and three toes instead of this shit-“ I hold out my hands and wiggle my fingers.

_________

“I’m married to you for political appearance. Thats it. And the sooner you can accept that I’d much rather be with my own kind than a four-fingered-freak, the better it will be for you.”

“Don’t think I’m in love with you. You’re an asshole, a jerk, and a bully. Never in my life would I willingly choose someone like you.”

“Then don’t ask me about the status of our marriage anymore. You’re the least attractive thing I could ever lay my eyes on. I won’t ever love you, get that through your thick skull. The sooner the better.”

“You don’t even want to attempt a friendship with me?” I asked taken aback by his outburst.

“With you?” He asks and laughs bitterly. “I want nothing to do with you.” He gets in my face and pushes my chest with two of his fingers to make a point. But I’m not sure how strong he thought I was because he pushes me down. I fall flat on my ass and yelp. Something flashes in his eyes real quick.

“I’m so-“

“Don’t. I receive your message loud and clear.” I swat his hand away and I stand, making sure to walk away as fast as I can.

_________

“That can’t be true,” Lo’ak shakes his head after grabbing my hands with his.

“He might be hard headed but he will come to love you the way I love Tsireya, or how sickeningly my dad loves my mom, or how Spider loves Kiri.”

I hear someone clear their throat from behind myself and I pull my hands from Lo’ak’s and quickly wipe my tears off my face.

“I would like to speak to my mate. Alone.” My shoulders stiffen at his voice and my lower lip trembles.

“It’s okay Lo’ak. Go enjoy the party. I’m sure we’ll head back soon.” I stated as emotionless as possible and he looks between Ao’nung and myself before nodding toward me and walking back. I didn’t look back since I knew him and could hear the clap of his hand on Ao’nungs shoulder. I wish Neteyam were here to witness the amazing man and husband Lo’ak turned out to be for Tsireya.

“May I join you?”

“You requested to speak with me alone.” I stand as I say that.

“Please. Speak.” I state as I try rushing this along. I could feel myself getting warmer, although I’m sure its from the anger I was feeling at him at the moment.

“I-“ He starts speaking and stops. He looks down at the floor and kneels down, the most sincere apology in this clan. “I need to apologize for how I have treated you.”

I can’t help but let out a chuckle at the scenario in front of me and shake my head in disappointment. He furrows the skin where his eyebrows would be if he were human and studies my face.

“What is wrong?” He asks and I feel like a mad woman.

“You expect me to believe you mean that?” I ask him and he looks confused. He makes eye contact.

“You don’t care about me or my feelings, Ao’nung. You only care about your appearance. Tell me that isn’t true.”

“I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you and how I have acted.” He states again and I feel the air being knocked out of my lungs as I let an audible quick exhale and couldn’t breathe in as he held eye contact.

“I have been nothing but ignorant to your needs and I want that to end. I want to get to know you. I want to learn about you.”

“I don’t know what kind of fun party juices you’ve been drinking but I’m not entertaining this. I’ll go talk to your mom and explain we haven’t bonded and you’ll be out of this union.” I start heading back toward the party.

“Please don’t,” He asks under his breath but I heard it, and stupidly turned around.

“This is what you wanted. I’m helping you. Shouldn’t you be thanking me?” I scoff. “The girl you want is probably going to be over the moon when she hears you’re single and untouched.” I stated.

“I want you.” He states loudly. Still in his kneeling position.

“What?” I asked him and feel like the world has shifted. The party music had disappeared and it felt like we were the only ones on the beach. He stands and starts walking but picks me up and continues walking.

“I said I want you.” He looks directly in my eyes and holds my stare as he says that, then turns his head back to focus on where he’s going.

“Yeah I heard you the first time.” I uttered and I could feel something snap in my body. The warmth I felt earlier was in my lower belly and I felt the small zing of- no.

“Then why ask?”

“Because theres no way you- woah.” I stated as I looked to see his pupils were huge. Barely any blue coming through. And it took me until now to realize he’d walked us toward our marui pod.

“You smell so good.” He shoves his nose in between my neck and my shoulder and takes a whiff, and I squeak in surprise.

“Yeah its that soap I used when we-“

“Not that smell.”

“Fuck.” I muttered as his voice had gotten deeper for some reason. “What are you doing.” I asked as he had still not let me down.

“I’ve neglected you far too long.” He lays me down and I’m surprised to feel something soft underneath me. I could feel whatever effects of that stupid mystery drink turning me on and I laid there breathing heavily looking at his face.

“May I kiss you?” He asks and I’m too stunned to speak. I look down to his lips but quickly look back up toward his eyes.

“Why are you being nice? Is the juice affecting you too?” I asked and take my hand to feel his forehead since I’d been feeling warm too. He closes his eyes and-

“Are you purring?” I asked as he manages to nuzzle my hand and make it look like I’d been caressing his face.

“May I kiss you, yawne.” He asks again and his eyes are bearing into my soul.

“I don’t- I,” I struggle to even think this through as a flame fans through my body. “Yes.”

And his lips are on mine. He takes one of his hands and places it on my cheek and I instinctively place my hand on his arm. He prods his tongue out to stroke my lip and I squeal and nip at it. He chuckles before continuing to kiss me and peppers my face with kisses as he moves his kisses down my neck.

“Mm-“ I moan as he starts sucking my pulse point and failed to realize my legs wrapped around his waist- chest I suppose.

“Sit up.” I demand and he immediately does so.

“Am I hurting-“

“Shut it.” I stated and sit on his lap. I used my telekinesis to place his hands on my hips and forced his neck down and feverishly kiss him again. He’s fighting himself as I feel him tremble slightly and his grip on my waist only slightly tightens and I’m mildly upset.

“Move my hips on you, do something dammit.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” He mutters.

“I’ll tell you if you’ve hurt me by screaming in pain, what I need is friction- yes- holy shit-“ I cut myself off and notice just how big his package feels.

“Did I hurt you?” He stops.

“No, you just feel- huge. Oh my Eywa is it going to fit?” I ramble and he moves me back over his lap and I grunt.

“I pray it does.” He grunts before kissing down my neck once more. His hand trails up to untie my top and I pause.

“May I take this off?” He asks so sweetly and I bite my lip and nod. He pulls the fabric tying it together and it becomes loose, I slip out of it and he goes back to kissing me and I’m disappointed in his silence.

He smiles cockily when he comes up for air and I want to punch his face but he says the sweetest thing before I can form a fist.

“I’m the luckiest man on pandora.” He kisses down my chest and takes one nipple into his mouth, twirling his tongue on my nipple.

“Ao’nung,” I moan as he pinches my other nipple.

“I like when you say my name like that.” He speaks directly to me, fully unashamed, and kisses my mouth.

His fingers trail down toward my ass, he cups my cheeks with his massive hands and kneads them, in the process he’s grinding me on his dick.

“Ao’nung-“ I moan again and try to push myself away from him but he takes my mouth into his and places the tip of his tongue in my mouth playfully stroking my own and I’m wet a hell from that action alone- and partly because of that juice.

“Yes, Yawne?”

“Take it off. Now.” I grunt and stand quickly without realizing his hand had already found the string and as I stood, my loincloth was untied and fell off.

“Yeah, luckiest man on Pandora.” He repeats his statement from earlier and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“Have you ever-“ I stop myself from speaking and suddenly feel very self conscious.

“No.” He states fully and we both seem to be coming out of whatever the juice was doing to us- but only for a slight second.

“Have you?” He asks me and sits up.

“Never.” I admit and look away but feel my face being pulled back towards his in the gentlest way.

“We will learn with each other. We go as far as you want. I don’t want to pressure you to doing something you do not want.” He reassures me and kisses my lips again.

“So what now?” I asked him and he smiles.

“Lie down my sweet syulang.” He gently nudges me down and I follow his instructions. I can feel whatever flames were in my stomach before start to take over the nerves once again.

“Spread your legs.” He instructs and I follow and look up at the ceiling.

“Look at me, Yawne.” And I do. “You smell so sweet.”

“Wait, what are you-“ I ask before he licks a fat stripe on my pussy and I gasp.

He carefully wedges his tongue to spread my lips apart and I moan as he licks upward. He’s gently holding my thighs open but my hands felt empty. As if reading my mind his hands snake up to hold mine, the fists I once had were now warming up with his hands in them.

“Ao’nung rutxe, don’t st-ahh,” I’m the one letting his hands go and reach down toward his head and manage to tangle my fingers in there well enough to control his heads movements.

“You taste sweet, too.”

I now know why he’d held my thighs open earlier as I’m currently trying to suffocate him with them but the pleasure is too good and his tongue keeps circling on my clit and it all feels so good. And I feel something go in me at a gentle pace and the once building orgasm has muted as I feel it moving around.

“Ah-“ I open my eyes and look down to see he’s got one finger inside me and he’s staring me down. His finger stills but doesn’t pull out.

Does it hurt? He signs with his other hand

“N-no, just different, my fingers aren’t as thick as yours so this feels-“ I stop myself from rambling as he places a second finger in gently and I squeeze down hard.

“Ahh-“ I wince and try to withdraw but he stills my hips.

“Breathe, yawne. If I pull out now it could hurt worse, I will pull out if thats what you want but I’ve been told to tell you it gets better.”

“Told by who,”

“Is that really what you’re worried about?” He asks and I shake my head.

“It helps to forget the pain,”

“I can do that.” He immediately uses his thumb to circle my clit again and the pain subsides.

“Will it fit?” I ask again as his other hand is busy playing with my nipples.

“Yes.” He states but before I can ask if he’s sure he moves up to kiss me, and I just remembered how much bigger he was, yet he was being this gentle with me?

“Go faster my love,” I moan and connect out lips and start feeling pleasure from this experience. And he goes faster.

“Yes that spot, hit that again,” I clench my teeth at the overwhelming feeling I’m getting from his fingers and he smiles.

“Whatever you say, my love,” He smiles genuinely and it melts my heart. He leans down to kiss me again.

“Yes go faster, rutxe,”

“You don’t have to say that for me to go faster. You say and I’ll do. Always.” He says while going faster

“Kiss me.” And he kisses me.

“Again-“ He kisses me again.

“Mate with me,”

He unties his loincloth with one hand and slips out of it easily and the sight of his penis has my eyes widening. He tells me he’s going to slide his fingers out and does so but my eyes are on something else entirely.

“Theres blood on my fingers-“ He stares at his fingers in horror.

“Thats normal- for me.” I take his hand and hold it close to my chest. “On Earth, when you have sex for the first time, this happens. The custom- a long time ago- used to be to do this for the first time in your wedding night with the person you love.”

“It is a sign of loyalty?” Ao’nung questions and I nod.

“It’s like tsaheylu.”

“Then let us complete our custom.” He grabs his braid and brings it forward, his white tendrils moving in all directions.

“Are you certain?” I ask him and he smiles, giving me a peck real quick. He grabs my braid for me but before connecting looks me directly in my eyes.

“Are you certain?” He’s asking so sweetly while making sure our braids don’t connect.

“Yes.”

And the feeling itself is euphoric. My pupils are blown wide I’m sure, I could slightly feel them getting larger. I can feel how fast Ao’nung is breathing and can feel the strain of his cock as if the feeling were my own. I could feel how his heart was beating and the same warmth had settled over his own belly.

“Nga yawne lu oer,” Ao’nung states breathlessly.

“I love you, too.” I respond in english

It’s like he understood what I meant as he leans down to kiss me and manages to settle me in missionary. He lifts his head up and looks down between us and back up at me. I nod and feel him start to get nervous.

“It’s okay.” I place a hand on his cheek and gingerly stroke it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,”

“Have I screamed in pain at any point?” I ask and he smiles, kissing me again. He looks down between us and places his cock in his hands and guides it in slowly. I could feel my body clenching in anticipation and I shut my eyes harshly.

“Shit.” I grunt and squeeze harder when I feel the head sliding in slowly. The stretch burned real bad and at this point I stopped breathing.

“Breathe my love,” He gently strokes my clit after stopping just after his head had been pushed in.

“Ma’nung, you’re big.” I groan and throw my head back as the subtle sparks of him rubbing my clit start to fan the flames more.

“You’re so tight I might burst too soon.” He strains and I start to relax.

“Thats a compliment on Earth-“ I try to laugh and he slaps my thigh.

“Ahh!” I whine and he goes back to rubbing my clit and I moan immediately after.

“I’m going to keep pushing-“ He starts and as he does I can feel a sense of fullness but also his length dragging heavily on my g-spot and I moan.

“If you don’t move some more, I will cut your penis off.” I threaten and I can tell he’s confused by the sudden change of pace but I know he can feel what I feel.

“Shit, is that me?” He asks and I open my eyes to see him biting his lip, one of his fangs poking out, I look down myself and see a small bulge moving in my lower belly.

“Yes thats you-“ I moan as he’d started sliding out and his cock continues rubbing against my G-spot, it feels like the many orgasms I brought myself to happening all at once.

“Go faster-“ I whine and he does, snapping his hips at a steady pace and it feels so damn good.

“Faster-“ and he follows my command, not once questioning me.

“You’re swallowing me so easily, you feel so soft rubbing all over, and your stomach is- fuck-“ He cuts himself off and seems unsure of where to stare, at my pussy swallowing his cock or at my stomach as it plays peek-a-boo with him.

“Yawne, I’m too close-“

“I’m coming Ao’nung-“ I whine and feel myself spasm around his cock as I blubber on some stupid Na’Vi mixed with english non-sense.

Not once had he stopped thrusting his hips and the feeling of my orgasm continuously being stroked on had started what felt like the build of another one.

“Cock so good I’m coming twice-“ I groan in English and he starts whining himself. I never knew Na’vi men were vocal, and for some reason, the question can I come? Kept replaying in my head. Realizing I was still connected to Ao’nung I reach my hand up and pat his arm and he opens his eyes, lust evident on his face.

“You can come my love-“

The look of relief washed over his face but I could still feel like he was holding back. More of his thoughts flood my mind.

“Do it.” I confirm and he leans his whole body over mine, hitting spots I thought he was hitting before, quite literally fucking me so dumb I forgot my own name. His thrusts feel even more powerful at this angle and he bites the skin between my neck and my shoulder. His come washes over the both of us as I have my second orgasm and massage the spurts of come from his dick, coaxing more to come out with every wave of pleasure I felt. He lazily kisses me and pulls out, I hiss from the sting of his fat head stretching me open.

“Come here-“ Ao’nung quite literally lifts me to lay on his chest as we both catch our breath.

“I meant it.” He says while lazily stroking my back, but he didn’t have to explain, we were still connected, I already knew.

“I do too.” I sigh and lean into his chest to listen to his heart beat lulling me to sleep.

_________

I wake up and realize my body is being caged in but I felt warm and comfortable so I stayed snuggled up in what I thought was my blanket.

“Good, you’re awake.”

My eyes have never snapped open so quick after hearing that voice. His morning after voice was deep and sensual and it had me tingling. I look up to see that it was still dark.

“It’s not morning yet.” I groan and get comfortable again.

“Yes, my love, but I need some assistance.” He states as if he were straining and I turn my head to see him struggling with another boner.

“Oh my-“ I turn quickly. “- how long have you been dealing with that!” I asked and he whines.

“You’ve spent the entire time grinding me while you slept, I didn’t want to wake you, but we mate up to three times during one session.” He tries saying it in a nice way but I understood what he meant.

“Slide it in next time.”

“But you were sleeping.”

“I know, Ma’nung, but nothing better than waking up to an orgasm, or being loved on.” I stated while sliding one leg up, still laying sideways.

Ao’nung is hesitant, but we were still connected by our bond too. I was surprised.

“I forgot you have a fat head-“ I groan as he slides it in and gives me time to adjust but also feeling instant relief to be back inside me. The hand underneath my waist snakes over to rub my clit as he pumps pathetically inching in very slowly, but I could feel what he felt.

“Come inside my love-“ I moan as he comes inside for the second time tonight, letting him continue thrusting lazily while sliding across my G-spot.

“You feel so warm, so good, I can’t get enough.” He groans while continuing the same movement and I could feel him getting hard again.

“Is this why your mom is pregnant for the sixth time?” I asked and he ignores me but wraps his hands around my body, pulling me closer to him.

“Can I come again, my love?” He asks while his thrusts are becoming more powerful.

“How many more times can you come tonight?” I asked and start meeting his thrusts in the middle, feeling the familiar sensation about to snap in my belly.

“As many times as it takes to make you round with child, I can’t wait to see you waddle with my life inside of you-“

“Fill me to the brim,” I groaned as he continues thrusting while imagining myself pregnant with his children. But the mental images he was seeing began flashing in my mind and he wanted to fuck me while pregnant, pushing my body past its limits and taking me in every position.

“Come my love-“ He grunts in my ear and all I can do is squeeze around his cock and moan loudly.

_________

“You don’t want anyone to hear us, do you?” He teases while thrusting in my cunt ever so slowly while he held me against the tree.

“No,” I try to stay quiet but he only slaps his big hand over my mouth.

He’d decided to fish on the docks today instead of following a hunting party and when he’d finish casting his third net full of fish he’d told the guys he was with that he’d be back in a few. I’d been picking seashells with his mom and sister when he called me away and lead me to where we were.

“You’re such a pathetic thing, Yawne,” He glides his dick over my G spot effortlessly and I’m a mess, I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.

“Eyes on me, my love, I want to see what I do to you.” He smiles cockily and I whine loud enough for him to hear.

“I want to come-“

“No.” He states firmly and slides his cock back in. “Be good for me and we’ll see if you deserve to come, my love.”

“Kiss me-“ I demand and he leans in, gently taking in the back of my neck and kissing me sweetly.

“G-go faster-“ I pant as he does and my eyes roll back.

“Come my love, come.” Ao’nung instructs me and I bite my lip as I release myself all over his cock.

“No don’t pull out,” I hold on to his hand tightly as if thats where I needed to hold him.

“We have to go back and-“

“I need you, Ma’nung,” I complain and he smirks.

“Of course, how could I have been so dumb,” He states and starts thrusting even faster.

“Ah!” I moaned and he slaps his hand over my mouth again.

“How can something so small be so loud?” He groans in my ear while he thrusts into me. My toes were curling as if they had a mind of their own and he was only holding me by my waist with one hand, he’s so fucking strong.

“How can someone so big be so big-“ I groan as he resorts to moving me up and down on his cock.

“I want to torture this orgasm out of you, my love. I want to make you the same babbling mess you were last night.” His voice was deeper and he was starting to grunt with every thrust. His hand came down from my mouth and stroked my clit lazily.

“Please let me come-“

“No.”

“Thats what you said earlier and you still let me-“ I whine and he forcefully grabs my cheeks to pull my face closer toward his.

“You cum when you only know my name and nothing else.”

I squeezed on him harder.

“You like when I’m rough with you, huh.” He places his hand on my chest and I grab it and place it on my neck without flinching and gently squeezes the sides and I could feel myself squeezing his cock once more.

“No, I w-wan- come.”

“Not dumb enough my love.”

_________

“Is anything off lim-limi- limits with y-you?” I asked as he thrusts under the water while his thick cock glides in and out of me.

“No. Never.” He groans before going faster. “You’ll be the death of me, now shut up and come.” He states while circling my clit.

“I don-don’t wanna-“ I whine but was to sensitive to hold on any longer.

“Yes you do, I can feel it. And not because we’re connected.”

_________

“Yawne please!” Ao’nung cries as I slide down further.

I’d mentioned riding once and he had been asking every single day if we could try it, but I wasn’t sure how feasable it would be, only because he’s huge and the thigh strength I’d need would need to come fro Eywa herself.

“This isn’t easy for me either!” I groan and completely slid down his cock and met his hips. Realization hits me as he hugs my body into his own.

“No you better not-“

“I’m coming~” He moans in my ear and it triggered my own orgasm.

_________

“Quiet my love.” Ao’nung shushes me.

“Please,” I beg and he thrusts harshly into me and I moan again.

“I love you-“ He states in English.

“Nga yawne lu oer-“ I whine back as he circles my clit with his thumb. He slams back in again.

“I like seeing you fucked dumb, my love.” He responds in English again and I’m going crazy.

“How bad do you want to come?” He asks in Na’vi and I can’t comprehend the question at all and babble some nonsense.

“I need you to come, sweet girl.” He coo’s and covers my mouth to muffle my sounds with his own in a deep heated kiss.

“Thats it, my love,” He coo’s as he joins me, still managing to gently caress my cheeks at his highest point of euphoria.

_________

“Have you told her it was an aphrodisiac?” Neytiri asks and Lo’ak rolls his eyes.

“Yes Ma’am.” He replies.

“Good.” Ronal states while working on cutting the fruit she had.

“Was this necessary?” Tsireya asks while sneaking a couple of the fruit pieces for herself since she was expecting.

“All the necessary, my sweet girl.” Ronal stated to her daughter.

“If not for that small lie they would not be sneaking around horribly and procreating like they are.” Neytiri points out.

“They’re sneaking around in public and doing that?” Taireya’s eyes widen In shock and Lo’ak laughs.

“Of course they are. Just the other day, Ao’nung said he couldn’t come hunting because he had to pick some tulip thorns from the tree’s for her. They grow in the ground.”

Ronal laughs at this too and shakes her head.

“Maybe she will become pregnant soon like us.” Kiri happily continues creating medicine or saves from the peels of the fruit.

“Human male and Hybrid Na’vi can procreate. Lets see if Na’vi nale and hybrid Na’vi can do the same.” Ronal smiles.

“I believe they can. Our world is changing.” Neytiri comments.

#avatar #avatar smut #aonung #aonung x reader #aonung x reader smut #avatar the way of water #loak x tsireya #spider x kiri #afab reader #avatar the way of water smut

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eideticallys · 11 months

Text

Who's Your Barber?

request: based on this.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: “you move fast, kid.” he turned to spencer who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “letting Y/N cut your hair without going on a first date.”

genre: fluff

word count: 852

author's notes: hello! i'm back with another spencer reid tooth-rotting fluff without plot. this was based on a request sent to me. i hope you'll love this! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

“DO YOU THINK MY HAIR’S TOO LONG?”

You looked up from where you were working on a pile of paperwork from a recent case only to stare at a pouting Spencer.

Cute, you thought.

“Why?” You asked, now facing the man in front of you who was busy fretting over his hair. “Is it bothering you?”

“No, not really.” He mumbled. “I just—I don’t know. I want to keep it this way because it’s always been kind of on the longer side but I also want to try cutting it short.”

A bit shy from his admission, Spencer started fiddling with the hair tie on his wrist, obviously not that comfortable implying that he did care about his looks even for a small bit.

You almost cooed at how adorable he’s being for a grown man.

“Okay,” You prodded him again, wanting to make sure you understood what he was trying to say. “So, you wanna try a new haircut but you’re not sure about it. Well, I can help you with that.”

Spencer looked up from where he was playing with his hair tie and scrunched up his brow in question.

“How?”

You instantly blushed at what you were about to suggest when you noticed Spencer being all for it. The thing about Spencer is that he’s a great listener as much as he likes to talk. Coming from a household where he never got to have a good companion unless his mom was doing okay, Spencer knew what it felt like when no one wanted to listen to whatever it was one has to say. With all your doubts starting to vanish at Spencer’s obvious interest, you shared your thoughts.

“Well,” You decided to share. It’s not like you would recount to him an embarrassing childhood story. That’s a story meant for another day. “I may or may not have worked at my aunt’s salon over the summer back when I was in high school. I wasn’t a hairstylist but learned a thing or two.”

Spencer’s eyes widened in wonder. You no longer regretted sharing your experience and were sure he was about to share a tangent on hairstyling in typical Dr. Spencer Reid fashion.

“Archaeologists discovered that cutting our hair and styling it have both been practiced by human beings as early as the Ice Age.” Spencer babbled. “Also, they said that people’s social class, age, ethnicity, race, and genetics determined the style of their hair throughout history even up to the late 20th century.”

You grinned at Spencer’s info dump and ruffled his hair, to which he scrunched his nose.

“So, Reid,” You replied. “When are we gonna cut your hair?”

“What, did you join a boy band?”

Everyone around the table started giggling and smiling as soon as Hotch directed the question at Spencer, as your cheeks reddened. Unfortunately for Spencer, you being a former employee at your aunt’s salon certainly did not do you wonders. Because what was supposed to be a trim here and there became a short haircut for him, quite shorter than what he has envisioned, he shared with you.

You almost dug yourself a hole right then and there.

But apparently, Spencer liked it enough—loved it even—to not hate you for cutting his hair too short. It’s fortunate—for him and especially for you who gets to see him in his new hair every day—that Spencer was pretty. He looked good both in long and short hair.

However, with Hotch asking him that question, you were sure Spencer would hate you for cutting it wrongly.

“No?” Spencer replied as his brows crinkled. You breathed a sigh of relief with his answer, which Rossi didn’t fail to notice.

You were about to head out when Hotch just announced, “Wheels up in 30.” When you heard Rossi speak to Spencer

“I like your hair, kid.” You almost smiled until Rossi questioned him. “Who’s your barber? Maybe I’ll get myself the same haircut.”

As if it couldn’t get any worse, you heard Morgan join in on the conversation, like both he and Rossi knew something you don’t. Spencer probably didn’t know what that something was too.

“Yeah, pretty boy. Who’s your barber?”

Spencer looked like he had swallowed a frog and he had seen a ghost with how comical he looked right now.

It seemed Spencer knew what Rossi and Morgan were trying to imply in their prodding.

“It seems to me,” Rossi continued. “It was our lovely Y/N who cut his hair.”

At this, your eyes widened as Derek smirked.

“You move fast, kid.” He turned to Spencer who looked like he was on the verge of passing out. “Letting Y/N cut your hair without going on a first date.”

Spencer likes you back?

As in more than friends?

Non-platonic?

Spencer likes you back!

“Shut up!” Spencer screeched.

“Let’s leave the kids alone.” Rossi appeased Spencer while looking at you. “They have a date to plan.”

Spencer sputtered out as both men chuckled while moving out.

“So, Reid.” You simpered. “Where are we going for our first date?”

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exhaslo · 4 months

Text

Corruption Ch2

(Villain!Miguel x F!Hero!Reader)

Ch1

Warning: Minors DNI, smut, mentions of sex, violence, blood, murder, twisted thoughts, experimentation, language, wannabe fluff, established friendship?

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Four Months Thirty Days until D-Day

A soft groan escaped your lips as you finally felt yourself come to. Fluttering your eyes open, you noticed that you were back in your apartment. Recalling what happened last, you let out another soft groan. Miguel must have been really annoyed and frustrated that you collapsed during his conversation.

Burying yourself into your bedsheets, you inhaled deeply. It was faint, but Miguel's cologne was still lingering on your clothes. Did he carry you here? Perhaps the cold hearted scientist did have a heart. Little things like this made you fall for Miguel even more.

Smiling like an idiot, you kept thinking about Miguel and his low soft voice. You rubbed your legs together and decided to pleasure yourself before calling him to apologize. Might as well enjoy this moment before he says something to ruin it.

Burying your head into the pillow, you let out soft moans as you started to touch and rub your clit. Miguel's voice repeating in your head. His little requests, stupid demands, but most of all, that teasing tone he gives you.

"How lacking. With how we pay you, this is all you can afford?" Miguel scoffed as he let himself into your room.

You gasped and covered your face with the blanket. So much for enjoying the moment. Why was Miguel still in your apartment?!

"Hm? Finally, you're awake. Do you realize I had to miss two days worth of experimenting?"

"I-I was asleep for two days?!"

"No. After you dragged me out of that mess yesterday, you collapsed and slept for one day exactly. You owe me." Miguel huffed as he helped himself to your seat. You covered your face with the blanket, hiding your pout,

"Sorry, sir. I'll make this up to you, you know I always do." You sighed, hoping he didn't hear your moans, "Um, why are you still at my apartment?"

"Why? Because I can."

Your smile never faded. What could you expect from him? Miguel always did what he wanted. Glancing over at Miguel, you could only imagine what he was thinking.

"Since you're now awake, I will take my leave. I will have my AI send you what was missed and a list of what I want done as payback. I will see you tomorrow." Miguel explained as he stood. You followed him out,

"Thanks again, Miguel. Sorry for being a burden." You apologized. Miguel glanced towards you, smirking,

"Think nothing of it. I shall let you return to your activity."

Your eyes widen as your face flustered. Miguel just let with a low, dark chuckle. He did hear you! Closing the door, you whined and felt tears threatening to spill. Miguel was far too cruel for you to handle, but hell, you still loved him.

You covered your face and ranted to yourself as you paced around your apartment. This job was going to be the death of you. Groaning at your own embarrassment, you kept pacing. After a while, you felt your shirt rising. Confused, you looked down,

"Huh? Where's my rug?" You muttered.

Looking up, you gasped, realizing that you were on the ceiling. Your eyes widen as you jumped down, freaking out about the whole thing. You grabbed your foot and stared at it, wondering how you managed to walk on the ceiling.

The Spider.

Your shoulders hung as you immediately thought about the Spider that bit you. All of Miguel's spiders were experimented on either thru radiation or some other sick experiment. The spider that bit you caused you to faint and now possibly changed your genetic make up.

"Oh no no no. If Miguel finds out...he's never going to let me go!" You gasped, covering your face at the thought of you on the metal table next, "I can't let him find out. I need to master this."

-----------

Miguel kept his smirk until he returned to his office. He found you so amusing sometimes. Other men would probably have pounced on you as you whimpered and moaned their name, but Miguel? Oh, he was going to hold onto this moment.

Your reactions is what Miguel keeps his antics going sometimes. Perhaps one day he will indulge himself, but just knowing that you were putty in the palm of his hand was enough.

"Sir?" Some knocked against the door.

Miguel's smirk once again disappeared. Now, who dared ruin his good mood? Allowing the person in, Miguel noticed that it was one of the scientists who was in charge of finding his spiders. Another man came in with a cart, rolling the enclosure inside the office.

"We were able to find all the spiders..."

"But?" Miguel hissed as he approached the two.

"B-But...one was...one seemed to have been stepped on and perished."

Miguel found the situation funny. He held his hand out and the second scientist was quick to give him the dead spider. Some found Miguel creepy when it came to things like this. The atmosphere in the room started to feel unsettling.

"Ah, I used gamma radiation on his spider, enhancing some of its abilities. Such a shame I won't be able to use it to its full potential," Miguel said with almost a sigh.

"S-Sir?"

The second scientist gasped in horror as Miguel grabbed the first scientist by the mouth. The sinister smirk that formed against Miguel's lips made the two terrified for what he was about to do. Miguel forced the scientist to sit down,

"Mhpm!!"

"Now, swallowing one spider shouldn't cause any harm. But, I wonder what swallowing this spider will do? You there, record what happens-"

"B-But sir, I don't have-"

"¡Inútil! (Useless)! (Y/N) would have already started!" Miguel spat and forced the scientist's mouth open, "Stop fucking squirming. You made the mess, now take your due punishment."

Screams filled the room as Miguel forced the dead spider down the scientist's throat. A roar of laughter came from Miguel as he watched the poor man try to puke or cough out the spider. It didn't take long for him to start screaming in pain and begging for mercy.

Miguel kicked his hand away, since the scientist was only making this more difficult for himself. Within the minute, blood was coughed onto Miguel's floor and the scientist was convulsing.

"How dramatic. You there, did you record the reaction?"

"S-Sir, we need to-"

"Did. You. Record?" Miguel said slowly as he glared into the man's soul.

"...No..."

"That's fine. Wasn't anything important. You may leave," Miguel said calmly.

"...Goodbye...sir..."

Miguel scoffed slightly since he found everyone so annoying and useless. No one could pick up his sarcasm except you. Calling security, Miguel watched the monitors as the second scientist was taken by the guards and placed in his test subject room.

"(Y/N), you owe me."

---------

It was defiantly the spider. Not long after you figured out that you can walk and crawl on walls, you also found out that you had organic webbing. You cried for a solid five minutes since you absolutely hated spiders and now you felt like one.

You "accepted" your fate as a genetically modified human, and had no choice but to live with it. Who knows what Miguel would do to you if he found out. He would be obsessed with studying you, yet jealous that he could not create what you became.

"Okay, okay. I can walk on walls, make my own webbing...I'm afraid to know what else I can do..." You muttered to yourself.

Biting your nail, you wondered what you were going to do with these new abilities. Gasping, you hurried to your work tablet and pulled up Miguel's research.

"Spiderman." You whispered.

Miguel was fascinated with the Great Hero Age. Miguel wanted to recreate some of those long gone heroes, Spiderman being one of them. Spiderman was a hero who brought criminals to justice. He helped other heroes bring down big bads like Kingpin.

As if a lightbulb appeared above your head, you immediately shot up with a plan. After mastering your new found abilities, you could become Spider woman and stop Alchemax. Perhaps you can bring Miguel over from the dark side and help him.

It was going to take a lot of time, but you had confidence. You could do this. If the original Spiderman could, then why couldn't you? It wasn't like there were crazy big bad villains like there were back in the day. Perhaps just one or two that you've heard of...

But no real Villains.

---------

Miguel sat in his dark apartment, holding a glass of whiskey in the palm of his hand. His glare towards the city below as he thought of ways to improve humans. To enhance them and make them better beings.

"Miguel, the list is ready for me to send to (Y/N)." Lyla appeared, informing him. Miguel drank his liquor,

"Add a praise of your choosing."

"Yes Miguel~" Lyla chirped and disappeared.

Miguel resisted a chuckle as he moved away from his window. One of these days he will have a success. Laying on his couch, Miguel let out a heavy sigh. Why did everyone have to test his patience? Who cares if one or two people died?

They were sacrifices for the greater good. It wasn't like Miguel was doing this for fun. It was for science. Miguel believed that nothing he did was wrong. In fact, by the end of all of this, the world will praise him for being a Hero.

As if those exist.

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Next Chapter

@tojishugetiddies @miguelsfavwife @foulsharkheart @club-danger-zone @ivkygirly @jollystrawberrycycle @amber-content @weirdothatwritess @smartyren @mangoslushcrush @nyxzoldyck6 @migueloharastruelove @chaoticlovingdreamer @sukioyakio

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader

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shibaraki · 5 months

Text

STEADY BEGINNINGS ┊ TODOROKI SHOUTO

tags: GN reader, developing relationship (eventual friends to lovers), touch starved shouto, physical affection (hand holding + long hugs), good god the yearning, obliviousness, jealousy, fluff + angst, pro hero shouto, reader works at hero agency

wc: 3.8K

series masterlist: 2/5

Shouto was born to be a hero.

It is a sentiment shared by reporters and fans alike. Todoroki Shouto, the pride of Endeavor, the saving grace of his family name. True, his development had been entirely up to chance—no matter the intent or cruel desperation behind his father’s actions, he had to rely on the probability that the next offspring would win the genetic lottery—but low and behold, he did, and to many people that alone was a sign of destiny at work.

Ultimately, he chose to continue the path of being a hero himself, but no higher being put him there. His father did. At the time of his birth Shouto had not been a son, not even a baby. He was a project. A small, shapeless, squirmy thing. Malleable, like any young mind. It’s a miracle he retained any will and individuality.

Sometimes when alone with his thoughts, Shouto would hypothesise on the whys and the hows. The conclusion he always comes to is this: any sort of reality in which Shouto succumbs to his father’s ideals and manipulation would have to be a world in which his mother does not exist.

While his existence was planned, and wanted, he was to be a hero and as such, wasn’t cut from love—that came after. He loved his mother. So much so that when she hurt, he hurt. When she cried, he cried. She taught him what it meant to be gentle, to have hope, to aspire to be his own person. Years spent amongst the country's finest heroes and Shouto still regarded his mother as the bravest woman he knew, strong because she refused to be hardened by her circumstances; soft so that she can’t be broken again.

You are like his mother in that regard. Those same echoes of reassurance that softness isn’t weakness, and it isn’t earned. You’ve been touching him more as of late, as if determined to prove it. Static between brushed fingertips, words expressed by simply pressing your knees together, the weight of your hand on his bicep to garner his attention. The build up is subtle and cumulative and yet each instance strikes him with the magnitude of a thermodynamic explosion.

Nobody bats an eyelid to this shift in physicality, which makes it all the more difficult to determine whether he is reading into things or not. It could be that he’s noticing those small instances only because it’s you, and you are all he can think about lately.

You’ve given him permission to reciprocate. He merely has to ask for more if he wants it. What Shouto hadn’t accounted for is the unbearability of being vulnerable enough to ask. An innocent “can you hug me?” becomes so much more daunting to voice with all that longing crowded up behind it. He can’t help worrying you’ll see right through to the bottom of his desires.

A hand comes into view. Bakugo’s ash-smudged finger and thumb pinch and snap together in front of his face. “Come back to Earth, dumbass. Your thousand yard stare is scarin’ my new assistant”.

Shouto blinks out of his stupor and the blurred vignette surrounding his vision recedes. He glances at the skittish man sitting outside Bakugo’s office currently sending worried glances over his shoulder. “I think he’s more scared that you’re back,” Shouto intones dryly. “Isn’t he the fourth one this year?”

“Not my fault they’re all wimps,” Bakugo huffs. A slap reverberates around the office as he throws down a manila folder onto his desk and drops heavily into his chair. He regards Shouto with suspicion overtop his computer monitor. “Whatever you were just thinkin’ about—stop”.

“You don’t know what I’m thinking about”.

“I know you always manage to make Olympic level leaps in logic,” Bakugo rolls his eyes and tears open the folder. He slides out what Shouto assumes is a debrief and flips it between his fingers. Shouto keeps quiet. He reclines into the couch cushions and returns to reading the incident report on his lap, counting down from ten in the privacy of his mind. Anytime now.

Three, two, one.

“So what is it?” Bakugo asks, trying too hard to sound flippant but landing squarely on irritation. “Spit it out before you give yourself an aneurysm”.

Shouto opens his mouth and closes it again. A wave of hot embarrassment washes over him. He knows Bakugo will do him the kindness of being blunt and honest but it doesn’t make it any less humiliating to admit.

In their younger years Shouto saw something of a kindred spirit in Bakugo. He too did not like touch and aggressively voiced his distaste for it whenever he got the chance—which was often, because divine intervention sought fit to give him the most tactile, handsy friend group possible.

As they got older though, Shouto began to realise that the protests and threats were hollow. Despite being vehemently against affection, Bakugo would allow it anyway, and sometimes even seek it out. The aggression was bravado. Bakugo liked having his friends draped around his shoulders. He liked when Mina kissed his cheek, or Kaminari played with his hair, or Kirishima gathered him into a too-tight hug, or Sero tangled their ankles together on the couch.

Only, for him to comfortably accept it, Bakugo needed to act as though he were doing them a favour by allowing them into his space. And Bakugo’s friends played along without complaint.

From what he’s observed you are also an affectionate person. You are liberal with your warmth and adapt seamlessly to the boundaries of those around you. But you were also visibly uncomfortable whenever people took that affinity for intimacy as an open invitation, and recoiled if they encroached on your own.

Shouto has imagined reaching out only for your body to flinch away from him more times than he can count. It’s a battle staged in his head, ingrown fears. The possibility alone was enough to keep him from reciprocating, set in a state of fawn-like inertia.

“There’s somebody I want to get closer to. A friend,” he begins. Bakugo makes an inquisitive noise, props his cheek against his fist and narrows his eyes as he listens. Shouto retells the story in part, deciding to omit your name, and by the tail-end of it Bakugo’s forehead is deeply creased in dissatisfaction.

“You make all your own problems, Halfie. Y’know that?” he mutters, rubbing at the bridge of his nose and sinking back into his chair. “Fine, you don’t want to make this person uncomfortable, or whatever. If you need a hug so damn badly, why not ask Deku? Not like he’d say no”.

Knowing Bakugo would make his dilemma sound ridiculous is one thing, actually hearing it is another. “How do you know it isn’t about Midoriya,” Shouto returns petulantly.

“It ain’t Izuku or anyone else from your nerd squad,” Bakugo says, dropping his hand to drum on the desk. “I would’ve heard about it”.

“Why?”

“Because you don’t touch people. And that’s fuckin’ fine, yeah? But if you had, I know for a fact any one of them would’ve burst into tears and told everyone in a five mile radius”.

“Oh,” it leaves him a little off-kilter to hear. Shouto leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, setting the report on the dark wood coffee table. The corner of the page is curled, and the spine is creased, and the ink annotation has smudged under his thumb. He details these things as he deliberates, the excuses cloying in his throat and thick like he might cry too.

Bakugo was right—if he craved close contact so badly, why couldn’t he go to Midoriya? He knows he would likely be met with enthusiasm.

“You don't have to tell me who. I don’t care. But you’re overthinking it,” Bakugo grunts at his lack of response, in a way that very much suggests that he cares. “Go ask. If they say ‘no’ it’s tough shit, but the world isn’t gonna end. From what you’ve told me they wouldn’t say ‘no’ anyway. Dumbass”.

Shouto nods and gives up the pretense of reading the paperwork. He feels coltish as he stands and brushes down his front, straightening the creases.

“You’re right”.

“I know”.

“Thank you, Bakugo,” he says. A small smile unfurls across his anxiety-bitten mouth. “You’re a good friend”.

“Shut up,” Bakugo grumbles. It’s a testament to his concern that he hadn’t cursed Shouto there and then. “Now get out of my office. What are you doing here in the first place? You got your own!”

“Yours gets all the sunlight. And it’s always quiet because nobody comes in here,” Shouto ignores the baleful slit of an eye Bakugo turns on him. “I’m going to take my lunch now”.

“Do what you want,” Bakugo dismisses haughtily, and Shouto smiles while thinking, not for the first time, that he’s very lucky to have friends like these.

The fidgety assistant bows as he exits and turns into the sun-drenched hallway. Warmth drapes around Shouto’s shoulders, lingering at his nape while he descends the dark stairwell where the light doesn’t reach. His boots thud against the linoleum, and he counts each footfall to keep his face neutral as his legs carry him toward your department.

Somewhere between one and one hundred and thirteen, a fraction of Shouto’s courage starts to dwindle. He grits his teeth. A hundred steps can’t be enough to dissuade him after decades of denying himself any kind of indulgence.

The further he goes into the support wing the more elaborate the layout becomes. You’re in research and development, assigned a workshop close to the quirk analysts. Heads turn as Shouto rolls through. Heroes didn’t often make personal visits to this area. If he thinks hard enough he could count a grand number of two past visits and neither of them were for you.

His stride falters when he catches sight of your nameplate. It is fixed to the wall outside your door, polished and gleaming proudly. Shouto traces the characters of your name engraved into steel before raising his hand to knock.

Your voice rings out from inside, “Come in!”

A pitched beeping sound comes from overhead. The workshop doors begin to open in a theatrical fashion, receding like curtains to reveal your space. The floor is mapped out with tape. Clear boundaries drawn between the work benches, the fume cupboards, the vault and your personal office, in an attempt at organised chaos. He might have been more interested in poking around for the first time if he had not felt on the edge of intrusion.

You’re tucked behind your curved desk surrounded by numerous monitors that dwarf your frame. Shouto furtively takes in your cute, rumpled appearance. The upper half of your coveralls have been undone to reveal an undervest, sleeves tied tight around and accentuating your waist.

“Take a seat, I’ll be with you in…” the dull tapping of practiced keystrokes comes to a stop as you notice him in the doorway. The professional veneer disappears. “Shouto?” you say, mostly to yourself. Your gaze slides beyond his shoulder, looking for whoever might be accompanying him. “Is everything okay?”

There’s a worried twist in your mouth that he wants to smudge away. A look in your eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugged at his being. Shouto rolls his shoulders, shaking off the tension, and moving deeper into your office. The doors close automatically behind him. “I’m okay,” he assures, taking the seat across from you.

Your expression gentles, and he likes how your gaze follows him. “I was wondering if you wanted to have lunch with me,” he continues. “But if you’re working I can head back”.

“Lunch?” you repeated. Your eyes darted to the corner of the monitor closest to you and promptly widened. “Oh, shit. When did that happen?”

An upswing of fondness catches him like a blow to the chest. His mouth quirks into a smirk. “How long have you been here?”

“Too long. I got lumped with a new project a few days ago and it’s almost done,” the monitors shut off one by one as you sheepishly press each button. Then you gave him a soft, apologetic look, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. Must’ve missed me if you came all the way down here”.

Dread shriked through him. The low whirring from the equipment scattered around your workspace is suddenly inordinately loud. Was he that obvious?

You, however, fail to notice Shouto’s anxiety and grab him around the wrist as you pivot the desk. “C’mon. Let’s go before the good stuff is gone,” you tell him.

Shouto had absolutely no clue what the ‘good stuff’ entailed—maybe he should’ve bothered to ask. Atleast it would take his mind off your hand. It’s wrapped around his sleeve, right where the fabric ends, loose enough for him to unshackle from if he wants. When he doesn’t protest the contact you stroke your thumb in an arc over the heel of his hand and squeeze.

Shouto falls into step, too caught up to realise you’ve taken him to the cafeteria. He expects you’ll drop his wrist in the presence of your colleagues, yet you adjust your grip and glance back at him with an encouraging tilt of your head.

“I’m starving. I think I’ll get a rice bowl. Smells pretty good today, don’t you think?”

Shouto hummed his agreement. He felt out of his depth, and he didn’t trust his voice. The spark of giddiness was doing embarrassing things to his throat. The line is mercifully short and before long he has a warm bowl of food held against his front.

“Did you want to sit in here? I can take us to one of the senior staff lounges instead if you want,” you cast a nervous look across the sparse crowd. “I mean, support engineers aren’t really gossiping types but…”

A petty part of him hoped the whispers would escalate. To have your name linked with his, to be known as a person that you cared about—he found that deeply satisfying, for reasons he couldn’t yet put his finger on.

Then again, being alone with you far eclipsed the appeal of flaunting your friendship. “The senior staff lounge sounds best,” he answers after a minute of feigned consideration. You nod, regretfully having dropped his hand, and motion for him to follow once more.

The lounge is a modest room with a kitchenette, a breakfast nook and a few bean bag chairs. It smells faintly like peeled oranges. There are post it notes and blueprints haphazardly stuck to the pinboard, covering an out of date calendar filled out in illegible scrawl. This is no shop awning. There is no rainfall to lend to the ambiance. But you are together in an enclosed space, and that is enough to make his heart beat in anticipation.

You scoot into the breakfast nook. He sits on the same side of the table and tries to subtly spread his knees enough to nudge your thigh. You side-glance in surprise but choose not to mention it. Instead you smile through your first mouthful and ask, “How've things been since I last saw you?”

Achy, like he’s used an atrophied muscle. Lonely, and frustrating beyond words. But he doesn’t say any of that. He digs crescents into his thigh through his pant leg and says, “Boring”.

“Figured that might be the case. I saw the livestream of you fighting Haywire,” you bump your shoulder against his. “The Commission probably dumped a whole load of paperwork on you, huh?”

Shouto wrinkles his nose. He hoped you hadn’t caught that fight. The pursuit of Haywire—an eco terrorist with an electrical quirk—managed to cause an unprecedented amount of damage to the city infrastructure.

“You handled it as best you could. The power grid can be fixed. What’s important is people are alive because of you,” a warm weight covers the fingers restlessly whittling at his pant leg. You pet his hand, “I’m glad you weren’t hurt”.

Guided solely by his impulses, the instant you start to draw back he envelops the top of your hand and sandwiches it between his own. He goes hot and cold all over in quick succession. Boundaries, he reminds himself. But you’re not pulling away. You’re studying him with a knowing gleam in your eye.

Shouto clears his throat. Heat pricks across his skin, concentrated in his cheekbones. “Sorry,” he says. You can ask, a memory echoes. “Is this okay?”

“You don’t have to apologise. I told you it’s fine,” you reply firmly. “I’m happy to remind you if you need to hear it”.

“No, I…” his brow furrows. “I’ve been thinking”.

“That’s not good”.

Shouto snorts and shakes his head, his amusement petering out into a shallow breath. “I want to ask. I’ve wanted to ask like you said I could,” he explains vaguely. “I’m not very good at it, I think”.

You make a soft, understanding sound that immediately sets him at ease. “I guess, after denying yourself something for so long it can be scary to let yourself have it again,” you murmur, a faraway look in your eyes. After a pensive moment the sheen fades and your laughter lines deepen, “I’ll do what I did before, then. If you look like you need a hug I’ll ask you instead”.

“In what way do I ‘look like’ I need a hug?”

“You get this—I don’t know how to explain it,” you gesture vaguely at him. “This blankness about you, but not your normal resting face, I mean you don’t seem all there. I don’t like it. I like it best when you’re happy”.

“Ah,” comes his eloquent response. Shouto drops his gaze to where your hands knot together. Every quark in his body is urging him to get closer, and remain close. “Bakugo thinks I should try to hug Midoriya, too,” he adds, oddly flustered.

“Huh. You talked to Bakugo about—? That’s a surprise. A nice surprise, I mean! Well, Midoriya does give great hugs. It would be good for you to…”

Shouto’s thoughts grow louder and he frowns down at his rice. You’re saying something about physical touch and wellness and friends. Dopamine and serotonin. It barely registers. Two truths are pinging around his skull.

You have hugged Midoriya. Of course you have. You’re friends.

You think he’s great at it.

Why is that so unsettling? Teenagers think like this. Single minded and overly emotional.

He feels the shifting of your knuckles under his palm. “Hey. You’ll need one of these back if you’re going to eat,” you say.

“Right,” he lifts his left hand and picks up his chopsticks to take a pinch of rice from his bowl. He chews until the clamouring in his mind has settled, and you patiently accept his stoic silence without explanation. Shouto hasn’t been this awkward since highschool, and even then he was too wrapped up in his familial problems to be aware of it.

“What’s the project you’ve been working on?” he eventually asks.

You take the change of topic in your stride, leaning closer and lowering your voice to an excited whisper, “I’m not supposed to tell you but—it’s for Deku’s new costume”.

“Midoriya is getting a new costume?” Shouto replies. You playfully shush him and he pouts a little.

“Don’t sulk. He doesn’t know yet either,” you poke a chopstick at the corner of his jutted mouth. “It’s my job to prepare a design portfolio and talk through everything next week. You’ll get a new one too, when you break the top five”.

“If,” he amends.

“You don’t think you’ll move up?”

“Reaching the top was never really a priority for me,” Shouto’s attention splinters, half of his focus on the conversation and the other on the sensation of your skin. He considers overturning his hand to entwine your fingers. “I just want to be the best hero I can be”.

You hum, and as if plucking the desire right from his mind, absentmindedly slip into the gaps between his fingers. Shouto steadies his breathing and takes another mouthful.

The rest of the hour passes, syrupy and slow like molasses. By the final minute Shouto’s palm is sticky and reluctant to part from yours. You usher him out from the breakfast nook first, stacking the empty bowls before directing him back toward the emptied cafeteria.

You slide the bowls along the counter for the kitchen staff to take. Then you wipe your hands down your front as you pivot to face him, thrusting out both arms as he stands frozen.

“Can I hug you?”

Shouto touches his face and you laugh.

“This is because I want one,” you clarify with a warm grin, beckoning him closer.

Shouto inhales steps into the embrace, his arms instinctively wrapping around your back. There are less layers this time—the heat of your body is overwhelming, alongside the gentle rise of goosebumps across your bare shoulders. Your breath fell gently on his collarbone, his head lowering to curl into you. He thinks, were he not born to be a hero, he must surely be born for this.

“Thank you,” you mumble, squeezing his waste a final time as you retreat. “I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

Shouto nods. Your presence moves away like the sun being blocked out and he watches you go, departing words caught in his teeth, an incessant buzz in his fingertips. The walk back to his office is a gauzy yellow haze. Every physiological response in his body told him that he was in a free fall, despite his feet being firmly on the ground.

“Shouto!”

Shouto halts mid-step at the familiar voice. He turns to look at Izuku, at the tentative beginnings of his smile. “Izuku,” he says.

“We missed you at lunch—are you feeling alright?” Izuku asks, slightly bemused. “You look kinda… floaty,” his eyes are dark, softened in the afternoon light as they sweep over Shouto’s figure and his face.

"Izuku," Shouto said before he could convince himself otherwise, “Do you want a hug?”

The innocent question appeared to crash into Izuku with the levity of a bullet train in motion. Tears sprang to his eyes, brighter now. Shouto tenses as he is swept into a solid hug. Izuku smells like fresh air, sweat and sweet-salty broth. He holds Shouto as though trying to keep his seams from bursting; thick arms are secure around his shoulders, and a rough palm rubs broad strokes down his back, smoothing the tension until Shouto is relaxed.

You were right. Izuku does give great hugs. Shouto came away doughy, and fuller, and with the stark realisation that while touching Izuku soothed the ache, it still felt completely different to touching you.

Later, as he leaned his head against the desk surface, he sluggishly contemplated the implications of that.

#bnha x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #mha x reader

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hello-nichya-here · 5 months

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Did Sia insult topic of autism somehow?

Oh honey, it's sooooooooo much worse than that.

Sia wanted to make a movie about an autistic girl that manages to connect to people/feel safe and confident through music. So far, nothing outrageous, just a simple concept that would obviously put Sia's music front and center while doing something nice and educating people on autism.

There was controversy about her not casting an autistic actress as it would have been nice representation, but she could have totally gotten away with that since, come on, hollywood hasn't even figured out Rain Man isn't exactly true to life, they're not ready to have an autistic person playing an autistic character. Baby steps.

The real problem started when Sia started promoting the "charity/support group" that was helping "educate" her on the topic to make the movie. The "charity" in question was Autism Speaks - which is absolutely HATED by the autistic community for things like:

1 - Spreading the myth that autism is a mental illness that one can develop/catch like the freaking flue and potentially be cured of, instead of a neurotype, aka something starts in the woomb and cannot be "cured" because to do that you'd need to replace someone's entire nervous system, which is impossible.

2 - Using that myth to get outrageous amounts of money from people so they "search for a cure" - that doesn't exist and will never exist because curing autism is biologically impossible, AND despite the fact that the overwhelming majority of autistic people don't even want to be "cured" (plus, since said "cure" would essentially mean giving the person a new brain, it leads to the question of "Would I even be the same person, or would that just kill and replace me?")

3 - Using the myth of "We don't know what causes autism" (we do, it's genetic) to, of course, get MORE money from people so they can "do research to find the missing puzzle piece" (if you ever see autistic people complaining about a puzzle piece being used to represent the condition, that's why, it was started by Autism Speak's massive disinformation campains).

4 - Falsely "confirming" things like soy milk cause autism with one of the world's most ridiculous "research", losing only to "vaccines totally make kids autistic, buy MY vaccine instead, guys, I am totally not an unbelievably biased person, it's ALL the other doctors/scientists lying to you. GIVE ME MONEY!"

5 - Pushing the narrative of "autism is inherently a tragedy" to distract from the fact that all the money they waste on stupid shit could be used to help autistic people and their families. Instead, they focus on creating more and more panic, making parents in particular despair even more - to the point that one of their "awareness videos" includes a mother talking about how she wants to murder her autistic daughter and then kill herself... while sitting right next to said daughter.

6 - Promoting ABA "therapy" - which was created by the same guy responsible for the attrocity that is gay conversion "therapy." Both have led to unbelievably high rates of confirmed PTSD and suicidal ideation in patients (victims), and ABA in particular has been compared to literal dog training. Very fitting since it was created by a guy who famously did not believe autistic people truly counted as thinking, feeling human beings, and said as much several times. Despite that, it is still praised by some utter bastards because "it makes the patients act less autistic when they're not crying in the corner or trying to jump out a window"

So yeah, working with these guys is a genuinely horrible thing to do since they're basically a scam/hate group pretending to be a charity - and people were STILL willing to give Sia the benefit of the doubt, since Autism Speak uses all their resources to make sure they're the first thing people see when looking up how to help autistic people.

Lots of Sia's fans, both autistic and allistic, warned her repeatedly, politely, that she needed to supporting them IMMEDIATELY as their goal was the exact opposite of the one she claimed to have - aka raise awareness through an accurate portrail of autism. People were even kind enough to name organizations like ASAN as replacements to help her fix any damage done to the project.

And instead of being a decent human being, Sia decided to cry on twitter about how the mean retar-I mean, autistics were bullying her even when she was so kindly using them for her vanity project.

Because yes, that's how the movie turned out. An unwatcheable piece of garbage, with the autistic "character" being so fucking bad even the people who actively use "autistic" as insulted being offended on our behalf - and of course, she was used just a prop to show how awesome Sia's character was.

Seriously, it was so bad the actress playing the autistic girl was sobbing in between scenes because she knew how it was horrible and she didn't want to insult anyone, but Sia is literally her godmother and helped her career by putting her in nearly all her music videos so she felt obligated to go along with it.

So yeah, fuck Sia and fuck Autism Speaks.

#asks #sia #ableism #autism speaks #actually autistic #aba therapy

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boldlygoingtohell · 5 months

Text

In a weird way, as a Jew, I can kinda take Normal Antisemitism™️.

I mean, I understand where right-wing racists are coming from when it comes to their antisemitism. At the end of the day, theirs just comes from fear, replacement theory, etc… It’s easily identifiable. 2+2=4. Yea its shitty, but I see how they got from A to B and it’s a straight line.

But left-wing antisemitism?? Like, how does that happen? I thought the left was about supporting minority groups, encouraging them to speak and be heard. But all I’m seeing from leftists these days (I myself being super fucking liberal, left, etc…) is just waves and waves of antisemitism. And yes it has to do with Israel, but these people are incapable of criticizing the Israeli government without going “all Jews are responsible!” in the process. It's infuriating.

Are all the the world’s Jews, millions of which live OUTSIDE of Israel, now responsible for Israel’s actions? I'M a stupid American! I’ve never even BEEN to Israel, much less know the intricate details of a geo-political conflict whose complexities go willfully unlearned by armchair activists in favor of yelling in all caps for 140 characters.

But what really gets me, and I mean REALLY get me about the whole situation, is the hypocrisy.

Remember how awful it was when we saw waves of Islamophobic hate crimes after 9/11, American Muslims with no ties to al-Qaeda being targeted for the faith those terrorists claimed to represent?

Or do you remember standing against the wave of anti-Asian hate crimes that was spurned on by COVID falsehoods? The “China virus” as Trump so eloquently put it? You remember being pissed about that, not blaming Asian Americans but standing with them against hate?

And hell, I’ve heard there has been a rash of Islamophobic attacks again because of the Israeli-Gaza conflict. That’s fucking awful, and I will stand against that bull shit because it does not belong here, end of story.

But now there are also antisemitic attacks, hate crimes, being perpetrated around the world. And who are the perpetrators now? The left that stood against everything else. There's no widespread ally-ship for Jews like me. There's no sweeping social media campaign, no catchy hashtag, no ice bucket challenge.

Why am I allowed to be condemned for what a country on the other side of the world is doing, when I have nothing to do with it? Why can I have the finger pointed at me when I don’t want the fighting in the first place? Why must Jews be allowed to be the target of this ire when it's already been decided that other ethnicities/religions don't deserve it either?

Now, I am PROUD to be Jewish; it is my culture, in my heritage, in my literal blood. It is in my genetics, my bones, my spoken language, it is in the holidays I celebrate, the philosophies I live by.

But it is also in the generational trauma of my mother insisting I have a passport as a young child, not because we were traveling, but in case we had to flee. It is in her inherent distrust of the government; a card-carrying Democrat all her life, she would always remind me, "if you don't think the government can't turn on you, you're kidding yourself." It is her constant reminders that as a Jew, our assimilation is conditional, our acceptance is political. I felt these, but never as strongly as she did. Not until now.

I am third generation American, and yet I feel like an outsider in the only country I have ever known. People who I thought understood, who were my friends, who marched with me against the injustices of the world, are now calling after Jews to answer for Israel's actions.

I say I don't want the violence to persist and I'm told that I'm, "one of the good ones". I'm told hurt Israelis don't deserve sympathy because, "all Jews are rich anyway, right? Who cares." I tell them my fears about the rising antisemitism and wearing my star of david necklace out. I'm told, "it doesn't matter, you're white anyway."

For the first time in my life, the racists aren't just some crazy KKK members. They're not just Nazis marching around with beer bellies and ill fitting helmets. It's not just some screeching street preacher who claims I'm going to hell after he caught the glint off my star of david necklace. If needs be, I can kick and punch my way out of those. They're just idiots. Isolated, concentrated incidents. It'd be a good story to tell at a bar the next day though a gap-toothed smile and a sling on my shoulder.

But now, both sides are coming after me and my people. Now, it's not just idiots who have all of their views backwards; it's people I thought I could trust to have my back, to go down swinging with me against those Nazis. Right. Left. It's everywhere. There's no escape.

It's coming from all sides. It's coming from social media platforms, from dinners with friends, from posters on street lamps.

I live in one of the safest, most Jewish neighborhoods in America, and for the first time in my life I am truly scared.

#jumblr #antisemitism #judaism #jewish #I'm just so tired of it all #I wasn't an anxious person before this #racism #long post I guess #can we go back to the days of punching Nazis?#life was simple

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kaijutegu · 5 months

Text

As if you needed another reason not to listen to Jay Brewer/Prehistoric Pets

Of all the reptile influencers, Jay Brewer is my least favorite. Let's see what he is up to today!

Recently this colossal idiot pet store owner who pretends he has any real knowledge about natural history went field herping. He grabbed a wild rattlesnake and filmed himself popping its genitalia for field sexing, without having ANYBODY CONTROLLING THE HEAD.

He just put his snake hook on top of it and popped out its genitals. In this incredibly unsafe video, he not only put himself and the snake at risk, but he claims it's educational- and that's why he did it.

Only thing is, he's wrong, and in fact spends time spreading misinformation. Let's take a look at some of his comments. This is the caption to his video.

The "nodes" are the hemipenes. He says that if there was one, it would be a girl. Thing is, girl snakes don't have hemipenes. While they do have hemiclitorises, those don't evert like hemipenes do. If "a node" comes out when you pop (read: bend a snake's tail back at the cloaca, forcing the genitals to emerge), you've given your snake a cloacal prolapse. This can kill them, but mill-style breeder Jay Brewer does not care about the lives of animals. We've known this. He doesn't care about his own snakes- he cuts eggs for funsies, he keeps giant snakes in drawers, and he regularly puts peoples' safety at risk for viral videos. But he also clearly doesn't care about the lives of wild animals.

What else has he said?

So here's a thought: Maybe your audience shouldn't know that they can pop a rattlesnake's hemipenes out of its cloaca because that is fucking dangerous. Not all information is good information to share in the Instagram format! Sometimes the general public shouldn't see you casually doing something dangerous without explaining what it is or why you're doing it!

Just wanting to know the sex of a snake in the field, when you're not actually doing any real research, is not a valid reason to do something this risky. Part of education is knowing what's actually educational. Another part is knowing how to appropriately frame dangerous activities so that you don't make your audience think that it's something anybody can go out and do. One of the things that makes me so upset about this video is the complete lack of context. It's not just that he has zero respect for a venomous animal, it's that he has zero respect for his audience.

Also, in the audio of his video, he doesn't call them hemipenes. He doesn't provide the most basic education he claims he does! He's just messing with an animal for the sake of messing with it!

He also promulgates a lie that popping doesn't cause the snake any harm, which is not what even most breeders say about it. Now, luckly, the snake seemed fine in this case. But there are plenty of people, mostly pet owners, who have lost snakes because they've tried to pop incorrectly and broken their snake's spine around the cloaca. Between the inability to eliminate correctly and infection caused from wounds, popping is one of the riskiest- and most unnecessary things- you can do to a pet snake.

Good breeders and snakekeepers do not take videos of themselves popping their snakes and put it on instagram and pretend it's educational. You pop snakes to guarantee the sex of the animal, and you do it ONLY when they are very young. Older snakes have more muscle control and it can hurt them pretty badly.

Even Spruce Pets knows that popping can cause your snake significant trauma, but fine, whatever. Let's traumatize random venomous snakes for Instagram views!

Also, he's just completely uninformed! Take this answer:

Probably? No, the answer is an easy yes. Rattlesnakes lose rattles all the time. They lose rattles due to terrain, to genetic deformity (some rattlers never form them!), and to predation attempts. It's just keratin. They're fine without it. Any real herpetologist would know this. If he can't get basic facts right, how can he be trusted to get more complicated stuff right?

And yeah, maybe this whole post is a little unhinged. But I hate this man and his practices so much. I hate that he's the face of an industry that could be so much better if it weren't for people like him. I hate that he's getting a TV show. I hate that people encounter his media and think that anything he does is a good idea. At least Brian Barczyck tries these days and actually promotes good care and safety at the Reptarium, but all Jay wants is popularity. He has zero respect for animals, and I loathe and detest that he's the face of our hobby.

#jay brewer #prehistoric pets #reptiblr #bad husbandry #bad everything

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sanemisstalker · 9 months

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Incel! Gyutaro, but it's a modern western college! au and you whip him into shape real fast. My ex won't talk to me, so I'm very much fantasizing about a man that will be obsessive over me ---> gyutaro NSFW

CW// Fem reader / AFAB genitalia / Breasted Reader / INCEL MENTALITIES : Sexism, Poly Hate / BDSM dynamics/ Implied ED (Gyutaro is a gym junkie who should definitely be eating more) / SH / Men's Mental Health / Inconsistent POV because I'm writing this with my hand down my pants (I am joking)

PART TWO <-

-You go to community College with him. He's some fucking dude in your necessary math course they wouldn't let you drop. He sits next to you in the booths.

-He's not awful looking. He's got some weird scars across his face, but like, they're kind of artsy. They add a flare the guy would be lacking otherwise.

-His vibe is a little... weird. He doesn't talk in class ever. You see him around campus and he doesn't seem... at all versed in social interaction. You once watched him get into a fight, which was a little sexy, but since it was with Tengen Uzui, your eyes were much more interested in the latter.

-Gyutaro is used to that though. Never being the one looked at. Typical of women like you. You're always frothing at the mouth over fucking Chad's like Tengen- He got it. Tengen was built, strong jawed, and just reeked of sex appeal wherever he walked. He always had the glaze of one of those five sluts he hung out with on his lips-

-Tengen was lucky. He's apparently been training since he was young- to look like a Greek God and all. Gyutaro spent the first years of his life fighting to survive in a hospital, and then every year after fighting to live in his home safely.

-and girls like you- sluts like you were always going to favour Tengen. Always assholes.

-After that fight, you began speaking to Gyutaro. You didn't come onto the topic immediately- you didn't want to pry- So You'd mention his shirt.

-'Is that Death Cab For Cutie?' His heart dropped when you spoke. He didn't even register you were talking about his shirt.

-'Are... Are you talking to me?' He'd croak. His voice was quite nice. Soft, but low.

-'Yeah- Your shirt? That's... That's death cab for cutie, right?'

-'Y-Yeah.'

-As classes rolled by, you came to understand that Gyutaro was a very... disturbed individual. Aside from being generally jumpy and odd, his moral opinions specifically toward women were less than desirable.

-You came to know of his opinions toward Tengen as well. The level of insecurity dripping from every word was palatable... even through the venom.

-He called women 'femoids' and constantly tried to express that Tengen had been given a bigger genetic stick in life. You could never decide if he was referring to Tengen's dick or not.

-You were different, though, He'd assure. You always got what he was saying. Even if you were just letting him mindlessly ramble about his awful, borderline questionable mentalities.

-with said mentalities, you began to realize that Gyutaro was a very easy man. An incredibly easy man. Who was incredibly attracted to every woman he met- but especially you.

-'Gyutaro, have you ever slept with anyone?' You'd ask one day, on the way to the cafeteria. On the few days he chose that over the gym, he'd walk with you. You worried about him, occasionally.

-The question would visibly startle him.

-'I-No. I'm - ha- I'm not... Why?' He'd cut over his own words, face burning.

-'Just curious. You seem all cool, like you get around.' You'd melt a little at that prideful look on his face. How absolutely smitten.

-Maybe the power went to your head, but you began to seek little moments of affirmation from Gyutaro. You'd bend over, a little too close to him- The chronic porn addict. Knowing what it did to him.

-You'd always compliment his shirts- All of his bands incredibly main stream despite his insistence that they weren't.

-You remembered the noise he made when you grabbed his arm in class, once. The teacher had decided to round up the class grade- just barely passing you- and you turned and clung onto his arm, and it was almost like he choked.

-'Hey, Gyutaro, can I come over and study?' You'd pose one day. His face would turn red, a hand flying to his scarred wrist. He itched the skin off- almost always raw.

-'To my- my dorm?'

-'Mhm.'

-'My room isn't-' He'd pause. 'Why? What do you want?' His emotions would flit, unsure of your reasoning. You'd roll your eyes.

-'To hang out? You know? On the one night a week we don't have homework?'

-'Aren't you going to go... party? You do every other weekend.' You found the tang of malice on his tongue adorable. Irritating, but adorable.

'One, I don't party every week. Two, I think you'd be fun to hang out with. What, am I not pretty enough to bring back to your roomate? Am I not allowed in the great and powerful lord Gyutaro's room? ' You'd taunt.

-'N-no. You're pr- no I-'

-'Cool! You live in the good dorms, right?'

-Gyutaro did live in the good dorms. He was also very lucky to be in a one man dorm. Apparently his old roomate, Akaza, had moved out to join a frat.

-Not that you could tell it was a good dorm. The thing was filthy. It smelled like hell, too. Like Gyutaro.

-'I'm sorry for the mess.' He'd grumble. 'I get really busy...'

-'You're fine. Are you a PC gamer?' You'd point to his massive set up.

-'Y-yeah.'

-'Thats cool- ooooh, a Scott Pilgrim poster. I love that movie.' God, you just knew everything, didn't you? All the things girls weren't supposed to like. Gyutaro had been fantasizing about this very moment since you bothered to open your mouth at him. He guessed his work outs had been paying off.

-'Yeah its a good comic, too.'

-The conversation would sway too and frough. Not every really finding a groove. A girl in his room, and he could barely speak to her- you decided to take drastic measures.

-'Hey, Gyutaro, do you want to like do something? Like... a game.' You'd ask, turning to face him.

-'I- um- I have some two players-'

-'Not a game like that.' You'd laugh. He'd quirk an eyebrow. 'I'm like... horny. Like a party game'

-If you'd suddenly fired a gun next to his ear, the effect those words had on Gyutaro would've been the same. He gaped at your bluntness.

-'You're horny?'

-'Yeah... I want to do something... Dirty, I don't know.' You jerked the air off.

-'A-are you gonna leave?' He'd ask, sounding pathetic. 'Do you need me to leave?' What a dumb question, he realized, the second it left his mouth. This was his home, why would he let you jerk off-

-'Do you want to watch? It'd be rude to make you leave.' You completely understood the absurdity of the words coming from your mouth. Every word made Gyutaro's face twist into something akin to... excited disgust. It was fascinating.

-'W-watch?' He didn't understand why he stuttered so much around you.

-'Yeah... Watch? We don't need to like- play like... strip poker or anything. I just want to do something raunchy.'

-'We-we're not dating. You should do that with your boyfriend.'

-'Gyutaro, you know I don't have a boyfriend.' You'd remind. 'Are you scared?'

-'I'm not scared- I-'

-'We're adults. We can do what we want.' His traditionalist mindset was wanning by the word. He wanted you something awful, and here you were, offering to... touch yourself infront of him-

-He'd been leaning on his bed, and you began to creep forward.

-'Do you have any toys?'

-'You mean like vibes?' If his voice wasn't cracking, it was dry. Painfully so. 'I-'

-'Any you haven't put in you?'

-'I'm not into that.' He'd defend. A lie. A painful lie at that. 'I-'

-'Into what?' You'd bring your hand toward the edge of his shirt. He'd begin shaking under your touch. 'No bandaids over your nipples?'

-You'd been so kind and casual to him thus far. Always appreciating his bands and asking about his games. You're eyes had never even fixated on his birthmarks- He never expected you to actually like him-

-'I-I'm not some... some freak.'

-'You think I'm a freak for being into that?' His heart would ache at the sigh in your voice, guilt growing in his stomach as your hand left. 'Sorry, I guess I'll just go back to my dorm.'

-As you turned to leave, Gyutaro would scramble off the bed, eyes blown wide. His foot would knock into an empty can on the floor, and He'd probably tip over some of the comics on his nightstand.

-'Wait-wait!' He'd step over a pile of clothes, and begin rummaging around in the drawer behind his bed.

-His thin hand would come back with a small pink vibe- attached to a thin white wire. You could barely fight back the evil grin on your face as he resurfaced, face just as pink as the vibrator.

-You feigned needing help onto his bed, just so he'd pick you up and set you there. His tenseness was comedic. As you fully situated yourself, Gyutaro just stood, hands in his pockets-

-'Well, come on?' You ushered, nodding to the space between your legs. Gyutaro looked to the spot and then back to you.

-This couldn't be real. You couldn't be fucking real. Even as you spread your legs infront of him, revealing your dripping fucking pussy-- it could not be fucking real. It was too pornographic. You couldn't be serious- Any second you'd snap your legs shut, realize how fucking disgusting he was- how worthless and weird- and you'd spit on him, get up, and leave-

-But you didn't. You pressed the vibe to your clit and Gyutaro watched in awe as your pussy clenched around nothing. Begging, pleading for a cock to fill you, just like all the forums said it would.

-You swore you heard him whimper- gasp- Feeling all powerful under his watchful eye. You were very pleased to find he was bulging through his sweats, a small wet patch already forming.

-He wouldn't be able to get over how fucking wet you were. How good your pussy responded to the vibrations, how good you looked when you craved dick-

-'You should... Your hard on looks like it hurts.'

-Fuck, everything hurt. Your voice made his balls ache, begging for release. He didn't want to cum so early- Didn't want to be a minute man infront of you.

-You wanted him to cum early so bad. His dick had already soaked through his sweats with pre- you knew you could get him worse.

-'Gyutaro, can you- Can you finger me?'

-So fucking cruel. So fucking evil-

-You knew he'd be no good. Too rough and fast, but to your surprise, he shook his head. Very admant.

-'Why not?'

-'I- my hands are gross.' He'd whisper. The poor thing sounded close to tears. He wanted to finger you so bad, but he was all to aware of the cracks and scabs along his knuckles. 'I don't want to get you dirty.'

-'Do you have gloves?' You were surprised by the desperation in your own voice. Fuck.

-'L-like latex?'

-'Mhm'

-Gyutaro had cleared the bed and rush to his bathroom, yanking the gloves from the medicine cabinet. You heard the faucet start, and then a crash and a bang-

-And then Gyutaro was back infront of you, one hand covered with a glove. And he smelled like cologne. You held back a laugh.

-He shivered at the way your pussy sucked his finger in. And then a second not even a minute later.

-'It hurts... You should get on top of me. It'll help.' You reasoned.

-Gyutaro watched you with wide eyes as he bent down next to you, the curve of his wrist allowing him to begin an all too gentle thrust into your pussy.

-His face was right by yours, drinking in the sight of you growing heavy eyed and huffy with awe.

-He picked up his speed. Fuck- you were a real doll, alright. So fucking perfect. All for him. All his- you were his, he decided, deluded by the intimacy of the situation.

-You weren't going to be allowed to go anywhere with any other man- ever again. Nobody else could see this. Nobody was going to see you cum other than him, make you cum, other than him.

-'You keep going just past it-' You'd groan with frustration.

-'Past- What?'

-'I need you to- my g-spot you keep hitting everything but it-'

-His face would turn bright red at the critique.

-'Your g-spot?'

-'Of course you wouldn't know what that is.' You'd snark, reaching down to grab his wrist. His jaw would tighten as you began to guide his hand in and out of your pussy, back arching as he grazed a textured part of your walls.

-He felt like a dildo, an object for you to chase your high-

-Gyutaro came before you, his free hand rushing to try and prevent it, but you'd feel him shiver and hear a soft-

-'Fuck- fuck!'

-And you' look to see a wet patch on the crotch of his sweats. It looked like he pissed himself, the stain starting at least midway down his thigh-

-You imagined such a gigantic load being forced past your cervix. His cock had to be huge- fucking huge- with enough cum to spill for days after.

-'I'm-I'm cumming-' You'd squeak as the vibrator paired with Gyutaro's shame sent you spiraling. His head would snap up to watch-

-You'd leave with nothing but a thanks, and a small comment on how he needed to clean his room - The look of shock on his face borderline second orgasm worthy- He'd already gotten hard again. He wanted to go- wanted you.

-But he'd get a text from you later that night. You'd be at a party- like he knew you were supposed to be.

-'Lol' would accompany a photo of you in a slutty little dress next to Tengen Uzui and those three bimbos always by his side. It would dock his confidence, send him spiraling- panicking-

-But it'd be there...a thin little wire peaking out from between your thighs.

-You'd send him your address and hope he'd have the balls to do something about it.

#demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #upper moons x reader #upper moon smut #gyutaro x y/n #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro smut

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