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shibaraki · 20 days

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OUT OF MY HEAD, HALF BURSTING ┊ MIDORIYA IZUKU

synopsis: japan’s sweetheart and saviour is in a quirk induced coma. you’re the only one that can bring him back.

tags: GN reader, post canon au, pro hero deku, quirk accidents, fluff + angst, hospitalisation, mutual pining, intimacy, technically doctor/patient but they know each other, friends to lovers, reader has quirk (‘dream walker’), memory/dream sharing, referenced depression, getting together, kissing, cheesy idc idc

wc: 5.2K

In your years wading through patients' memories, you’ve found that people have the most uncanny ability to resign themselves to their fate. You’ve wondered time and time again whether it’s instinctive to ruin things—if humans couldn’t help but stumble and make a mess of the things around them.

You recall that thought process now with a weary sigh, as your eyes skim over the patient's name for the tenth time in as many seconds. Midoriya Izuku.

“Well? Are you gonna do it or not?”

You’ve been staring at the medical file for long enough that an uncomfortable silence has dawned upon your office. Two weeks prior, a villain named Catatonic used her quirk to force Deku into a comatose state, that which he has yet to wake from. Even after the liberal use of quirk inhibitors, countless visits from Eraserhead and the administration of various stimulants, Deku would not stir. Realistically he should’ve roused from the coma naturally as soon as the quirk was cancelled. But he hadn’t, and his doctors can only assume it’s because he can’t, or refuses to.

Thus the case in your lap. A last resort.

“I’ll do it,” you intoned, thumb flicking at the corner of the manila folder. There’s already a deep crease there. The file itself is the heaviest you’ve ever had in your hands. Dense in a way that makes you ache. You and Deku are good friends—the kind of friendship that forms mainly because you frequent the same places. That place in particular being the hospital, except you were there to work, and he was often wandering the hallways listlessly to burn off the dregs of whatever sedatives he’d taken or visiting with patients.

Awkward small talk eventually blossomed into real, fulfilling conversations, and you started to like him, a lot more than you should. You kept the memory of his small, sincere smile close to your chest; nothing like that dazzling grin he wore on duty, it was softer, something private, and you relished being on the receiving end of it.

He was skilled at talking around his injuries. Sometimes if you felt especially bone-weary after a shift you’d be so relieved to see him that you forgot to ask. That sits with you. Deku is a hero. A good one, the best one. He’s brilliant at what he does—keeping people safe, protecting them from harm. In the entirety of his career, it appears he rarely, if ever, turned that care and consideration onto himself. You’re not a licensed therapist, and barely a doctor. Still you contemplate his medical history with a cold sense of regret.

“You realise there’s a large possibility I’ll end up seeing a lot of confidential stuff while I’m in there”.

“Don’t care. S’not like you can tell anyone”.

“I don’t think you understand how invasive this will be. I’ll see personal things. Private things, Bakugo. He won’t be happy”.

“Don’t care. If he doesn’t like it then maybe he should fuckin’ wake up”.

“This might not work, you know,” you finish tiredly.

Bakugo arches his brow at that. Despite the shadows under his eyes there’s no defeated slope to his shoulders, only a fierce scowl. “Either you can do it or you can’t,” he says, voice unsteady as if reeling between rationality and outright aggression. “You’re supposed to be the best at what you do”.

“I am the best at what I do, Bakugo. I can promise you I’ll find him”.

“Then what’s the damn problem?”

The file feels heavier. It feels like a foregone conclusion. You swallow, your throat dry. You don’t bother attempting a smile. You’ve lost the will to maintain your professional veneer.

“I can’t promise he’ll want to come back”.

Dream walker.

At twelve years old you thought it made your quirk sound whimsical, and gentle, and not at all the invasive thing that it actually is. After all, your reach didn’t end only at dreams. You were able to project your consciousness into another’s mind if it pleased you, parse through every memory, ambition, fantasy, trauma and fear, and manipulate them however you liked. Back when your control was non-existent you would drift into people’s heads whenever you slept like some wayward soul and saw far too much far too young.

The need to understand yourself and your quirk is what drove you to studying medicine. Neuropsychology, mainly. You carved meditative techniques into the very recesses of your own brain and learned to keep your consciousness tightly moored but had no real ambition beyond that. After the war and the complete upheaval and reform of hero society, it was difficult to find your place.

Until Okumura Yukiko.

At the small age of eight, Yukiko fell under the effects of a severe nightmare quirk, and despite the quirk being canceled she couldn’t wake up naturally. You had carefully walked through the delicate threads that made up her young mindscape—quirk-infested by formless shadows with knife-sharp teeth and worse, eerie figures that wore the appearance of her father—you found her trembling inside her mothers figmental wardrobe, took her hand, and guided her out.

When you came to she was curled up in the swaddle of your arms, trembling still, but awake. Her timid incantations ring true in your ears even now. Those tiny little thank you, thank you, thank you’s inspired the person you are today. Not quite a doctor, or a therapist. A specialist for special cases.

Something in your gut told you that traipsing into Midoriya Izuku’s mind wouldn’t be simple. That it would permanently change things. This isn’t some stranger, or a patient you’d never cross paths with again. He’s important to you in a way others aren’t.

Your hand hovers over his face, fingertips brushing his temple. You push your fingers into his thick green hair, rich in colour and soft, no knots to catch on your knuckles. His friends have been visiting in shifts, keeping him comfortable and presentable.

Bakugo had managed to keep the Hero Commission at bay for the time being, but if you came back without Midoriya tomorrow there would be far more than one scowling man looming in your office. Though the possibility left a bad taste in your mouth you can admit, in the privacy of your thoughts, that you’ve contemplated prolonging his recovery for the sake of allowing Midoriya rest. There must be something keeping him under, his genuine reluctance or worse; you’ve been reassured repeatedly of All for One’s death and the absence of the previous quirk holders but it’s best to exercise vigilance.

Midoriya does not react, not even a twitch of his nose, but there’s a flutter beneath his eyelids and a sleepy-sweet warmth to him that has you smiling, fond. Tucking your feet around the legs of your chair, you scoot it forward and bend closer, elbows resting on the edge of the hospital bed. “I’m not sure you can hear me in there. Maybe not. But I hope you won’t hate me for this,” you tell him.

Midoriya’s face remains serene as ever—more so than you can remember. It makes you wonder how much pain and discomfort he’s been hiding throughout your interactions. The tension has been sapped from his expression, lashes fanning over his cheeks. You’re close enough to count each individual freckle. Lightly, your thumb taps the space between his brows. “There are a lot of people out here that love you. They’re waiting for you to wake up, so I’ll have to have a look around your head a bit. Okay?”

Nothing. Heartbeat monitor pulsing a healthy rhythm, broad chest rising and falling, Midoriya continues to sleep. You sigh and cast a final glance around the private hospital room. The clock reads 18:22. Outside the window you see a single cloud, wispy as a dandelion, slowly disintegrate across the dusky sky. You make a cradle with your arm, head resting in the crook while you take Midoriya’s hand and try to relax. Anticipation turns in your gut. Years of experience aside, you’ve never really acclimated to the feeling of that first step into another’s subconscious.

Pressure gathers inside your skull as your quirk activates. You inhale a quick, wounded breath at the sensation. Your eyes roll back, vision swallowed by abrupt darkness, and you jerk against the distinct sensation of falling as your stomach roils. You’re overwhelmed by a cacophony of images and sounds—a determination that happiness would come, then moored to the burden of expectation, any optimism muffled under exhaustion and pain, replaced swiftly by a sense of discontent, grief and regret that swelled over time.

And then everything stops.

Your arms feel empty. Your chest feels hungry. You ache with it, the disquieting loneliness. Fog leaks into the memory, surroundings concealed beneath a thick mist. Behind you is a small pond. There’s a notebook soaking in the water. The koi are mouthing curiously at the weathered corners, faint black tendrils of ink curling off the charred pages. Scrawled boldly across the top is ‘Hero Analysis for The Future: No. 13’. Your strikingly young reflection ripples as you plunge your hand in and fish it out, holding it at arm's length as you shake the excess away.

Sufficiently less soaked, you draw the notebook to your front and carefully turn the cover to read the first page. You can feel the slight indentations on the back where a pen has been pressed hard enough to score the words through the page. Written inside, smudged but undeniable, is Midoriya Izuku’s name.

“Uh—excuse me…” a shaky, pitched voice comes from behind you, belonging to a very familiar pair of teary eyes. Midoriya is not just small, he’s scrawny. His hair is longer, unable to decide on which direction it wants to grow, and his middle school uniform is slightly ill-fitting, as though his mother bought it a size bigger for longevity. He ducks into the higher collar to hide his reddened face when you look at him.

The urge to bundle him up and hide him from the world is fierce. The situation is odd, but you offer a smile and his blush worsens. “Is this yours?” you ask, holding up the notebook. You try not to grimace at your own childlike voice. Midoriya nods frantically. His hands flex around the straps of his backpack. Smaller than the broad palms you’re familiar with, neither scarred nor crooked, trembling where they motion to clasp around the notebook. Your fingers brush and he attempts to swallow the yelp that bubbles in his throat.

“Thank you,” he stammers, pressing the notebook flat to his own chest. Midoriya swallows. His gaze never strays from you, growing brighter with each passing second as the idea in his head takes shape.

“Do you go to school here?”

“Oh,” you blink and the shadows have elongated. The pond is now hugging a school building. You recognise it despite never having seen it before. Aldera Junior High. “I don't,” you answer, sounding sorry. He predictably deflates. “I live close by, though!”

Midoriya perks up again. He shifts his weight between each foot. Red faced and unsteady, he quietly asks, “Do you think we could be friends?”

Your mouth slacks a bit, answers dying in your throat. You look down at your hands, palms upturned and unblemished. The dappled sunlight passes through your incorporeal form. Interaction with anything aside from the true patient during your work is incredibly rare though not entirely unfounded; people who daydream in vivid detail or ruminate chronically on old regrets usually had false memories in excess. Their minds seem to naturally meld around your intrusion, but they never went so far as to seamlessly incorporate you. Which can only mean one thing.

You fit because Midoriya has imagined this numerous times before—befriending you as a child.

Before you can respond you’re being dragged abruptly into a memory, the echo of a blinding flash of pain rippling through you. A reflexive gasp has your chest heaving and you curse at your lack of control. There’s barely a shard of light. Behind you is a hard, jagged surface but below is loose, uprooted. Attempts to move are futile, and agonising. You slump into the displaced rubble, silt and icy embrace, and listen. From above there is only a haunting silence but only a few feet ahead you hear muffled crying and Bakugo’s strangely tinny voice.

Your vision adjusts in increments, from pure darkness to a soft outlined blob to a comfortingly familiar silhouette. Midoriya is poised like an Atlantean statue, holding up the creaking structure and keeping it from crushing the young girl cowered in front of him.

Another wave of pain washes over you as the rubble groans. Midoriya bites back a whimper. His body is sinew and bone pulled taut, skin stretched over a drum. Everything seemed to swell dramatically around him.

“We’re almost there, kid. Two minutes,” Bakugo’s voice spills jarringly from the bulky earpiece hugging Midoriya’s ear. “Now look at Deku for me. You lookin’?” the young girl does as he commands. You see her trepidation falter at the easy smile Deku is wearing. “Bet he’s got a big dumb grin on his face right now, yeah?”

“Y—yeah,” she echoes, clutching the dirtied hem of her dress.

“You think he’d be smiling if there was anythin’ to be scared of?”

Her shoulders slant, the tension released, and she offers a tremulous smile of her own, “No”.

But you can feel, quite viscerally, how scared Deku was in that moment. The nauseating pain in his arms has dwindled into numbness and he daren’t spare himself more than the occasional shallow breath, as if the bloating of his lungs alone might disrupt his balance. Not once does his smile falter.

The surroundings warp again. You struggle against the whiplash, flung unwillingly into another memory. Breath forced from your lungs, the echo of Izuku’s pain dissipates in a blink and you land on unsteady feet, coughing and spluttering in the middle of an eclectic café covered in tinsel.

A sign written in cursive above the chalkboard menu reads ‘Mean Mug’. Melodious Christmas music plays quietly overhead, and the bell above the door is soft enough to get lost in the smooth notes. You’re cocooned by heat and met with bold patterned wallpaper. The unifying palette seems to be warm-toned colours; red, orange and brown come together amidst the mismatched decor to create a cosy atmosphere.

A half heartedly disguised Midoriya shuffles awkwardly by the counter, looking up at the door with trepidation every time the bell chimes to signal another customer. He grins once Uravity arrives in a casual disguise of her own, eyes still bright beneath the shadow of his cap.

They order and settle in a quaint alcove away from the windows and any prying eyes. Neither hero notices your presence as you seat yourself at their table and listen to their conversation. There are things you don’t understand. Code words to be used when discussing sensitive matters outside of their agencies. Inside jokes that you weren’t there for. But most curious of all is the knowing look on Uraraka’s face when Midoriya mentions that he saw you at the hospital that day.

“You’re hopeless, Deku-kun,” she says, as fond as she is amused. “What was your excuse this time?”

Midoriya clears his throat. He grips his cup, pressing until his knuckles turn white. It draws your attention to the thin cast splinting his ring and middle fingers together. “I broke my fingers sparring with Kirishima”.

You remember that, though too entrenched in his memory to attempt receding into yours for details.

“So you leapt halfway across the city to have them stuck together despite the fact that your agency has an on-site infirmary,” Uraraka’s hair falls in a gentle swoop beneath her jaw as she laughs. Midoriya shrinks into himself ever so slightly and her eyes soften. She pokes at his forearm. “C’mon Deku—why haven’t you asked yet? Do you really think you’ll get rejected?”

Glancing back and forth between them, your heart beats a tattoo across the inside of your ribs. You feel as if you’ve both missed something quite important and heard too much. You push your chair backwards and fall away from the table, and the memory, before Midoriya can respond.

With renewed determination—and heat rising to your cheeks—you reign in your quirk, steering cautiously through Midoriya’s subconscious mind as you should’ve in the first place. Images flicker in and around your periphery, each as desperate to draw you in as the last.

You see Midoriya crying, bleeding, lashing out in anger. You see him in a sterilised room, lulled by monotonous beeps, flesh stitched back together. You hear the doctor's voices coalesce into white noise. You watch as he’s handed crudely drawn thank you cards, coffee-stained police reports and thick manila envelopes marked as confidential in large red letters.

You turn away as Eraserhead approaches, a solemn expression, a quiet clink accompanying his footsteps, unnaturally heavy to one side, a young girl with silver hair following right behind him.

Your heart leaps to your throat when he screams in agony. You look down. There’s blood running down the street in rivulets, skin coming apart like wet paper.

You close your eyes. Next you risk a glance All Might is there, thinner than ever. He’s sitting in a wheelchair by a large window swaddled in a thick knitted blanket, watching over the city, smiling.

You turn away, feeling a pang of grief. Midoriya is expressionless, examining his battered body in the mirror, condensation still lingering on the glass, tendrils of heat curling upward as the shower drain gurgles.

Then he’s in a dark room bringing a stranger's hand to his mouth, kissing the centre of their palm, drawing the finger into his kiss-bitten mouth and sucking with a hazy gleam in his eyes.

It’s overwhelming. You stumble and suddenly Shouto is eating across from Izuku. He brings his chopsticks to his lips, noodles hung limp between them. “It’s obvious you like each other. You should just confess,” he says before shovelling his food.

Too private. You turn on your heel and find a patient of yours on the bed, unresponsive. Izuku is beside you, muttering under his breath, thumb pressed to the shadow beneath his lip. He reaches back to brush your wrist and offers a tentative touch of reassurance. You watch yourself lean against him for a moment and then retreat, grateful for his consideration, unneeding of it, and desperately wanting it, all at once.

The scene ripples violently. A reporter is staring up at Izuku with sparkling eyes. Her hair cycles through an array of colours as she shakes with excitement. “It’s amazing, Deku-san,” she insists. “For your spirit to be so heroic that it physically steers your body… that’s special!”

Izuku conceded with a strained laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck. You feel how his stomach knots. “I used to think so too,” he says, sounding far away.

It’s the middle of the night somewhere when your search finally comes to a halt. You find you’ve landed on an empty street, in that dense, heavy darkness that makes you feel like the only person in the world who’s awake. There’s a tall residential building hugging the pavement. Intuitively, you know this is where Izuku lives.

Your footsteps are made heavy by Izuku’s lingering hurt and exhaustion. It’s disconcerting, the way he feels about his apartment. Coming home should be effortless. People come home in the same way they draw breath. But to Izuku, it's a weary, miserable journey that he must consciously think about and do. His perennial loneliness is overwhelming, a near physical force repelling you from opening the large glass door.

One foot in the lobby and the surroundings undulate. You’re dropped in the middle of his living room. It’s vacant. There’s a large box of case files tucked under the coffee table, an old takeout box left out on the counter, a blanket strewn haphazardly over the couch cushions. You pinch the soft fabric and rub it between your fingers, bringing it to your nose as you’re overcome by the urge to smell it. Izuku’s warm scent floods your senses.

Something thuds outside, followed by a tinkling of keys on a chain. Your blood runs quicker as the front door abruptly opens. Izuku looks harried as he ducks into the genkan, quite visibly frayed. The upper half of his hero suit is unzipped, pushed down to hang over his hips, littered with debris and dry mud. You hold your breath as he kicks off his shoes and lifts his head, meeting your wide-eyed gaze. The air around you is charged. Trepidation prickles at your nape.

Then the shadows over his stormy face recede. Izuku gentles, light returning to his previously empty eyes. “I’m home,” he breathes. “I missed you”. His voice shivers down your spine—you know in your gut that this is him, the real Izuku, but that fact is hard to believe while he’s looking at you like he wants you.

“Welcome home,” you smile back, slipping the blanket around your shoulders as you move toward him. “Hard day at—?”

Your intentions are to sit him down, keep him calm so as not to be ejected, and explain what’s happening, but before you have the chance his larger body crowds you against the wall—the dull impact reverberates through your ribs, knocking the breath from your lungs and he’s kissing you as if it’s something he always does.

Though it’s more of a collision than a kiss. The sensation is indescribable. Information spills into your mouth, your quirk reflexively absorbing his every fantasy, ache and want. Your knees almost buckle. The blanket puddles at your feet. Fingers snake into his thick hair, nails dig into his roots where skin becomes earth as you try to reciprocate his fervour.

Under your tongue you feel the cut on his lip, under your palms the dark swell across his cheek. You shake off the cloud of desire. Too many lines have already been crossed. “Izuku,” you whine. His name comes naturally now; you know him deeply enough. Blunt teeth graze at your jaw, your throat. You lean away for air only to catch a glimpse of another angry ivory-red bruise peeking from beneath his loose collar. “Izuku,” you tried again. Then louder. “Izuku, that’s enough”.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” Izuku rasps as he rears up from the crook of your neck with wide, glassy eyes.

“No—I’m,” your heart beats hard in your ears. Dread sinks low in your belly. “It’s me. I’m really here, Izuku. You’ve been away for too long. I had to use my quirk. We need to wake up”.

“Wake up? You’re… oh,” his eyes grow wider, then shutter closed on a shaky exhale. The cut on his bottom lip has started bleeding again. Rivulets seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. You yearn for the searing heat of his hands as he releases you and staggers backwards to scrub at his face. “Oh my god”.

“Wait. Please don’t throw me out,” you say quickly, reaching to clutch at his wrist in case he panicked. Izuku tenses at the contact only to relax a beat later, his fingers spreading over his eyes so he can get a peek at you. “It took me forever to find you here. There’s a lot of stuff in your head”.

“I won’t. I wouldn’t,” he mumbles. You could collapse in relief. He’s not angry, he’s embarrassed.

“Thank you. I promise I tried not to look at anything too private”. Your mind didn’t make it easy, you think. It was almost like he wanted me to see everything.

Izuku groans and lets his hands drop to his sides in defeat, revealing an entirely pink face. You keep your fingers curled around his wrist, his pulse light and fast. “Okay. I’m okay. We should probably sit down for this,” he eventually croaks, a tremulous smile working its way across his lips. “Drink?”

You pick up the blanket and make your way to the couch while he briefly disappears into the kitchen. Around you the apartment takes on a rosy sheen. A dull clink shudders through the silence as Izuku sets a cup on the coffee table in front of you. It’s your favourite work mug down to the smallest details.

“You remembered this old thing?”

Shaped like a cat, the handle curved in and away like a feline’s tail. It’s piping hot, steam already curling up from it like a crooked finger, like the invitation he meant it to be.

Izuku nodded awkwardly, perched so far forward that it stretched credulity to say he was on the couch at all. He tracks your movements with intensity when you lean to pick up the hot drink. The initial sting to your palms quickly dwindles into numbness as you bring it closer and realise what’s inside. Hot chocolate. The surface sprinkled with those small, cube shaped marshmallows that he likes.

You swallow and feel the warmth spread through your body. A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth as the thick, saccharine flavour floods your senses, washing back the bitterness and thawing your anxiety. You can hear the tension in Izuku’s shoulders snap as he slumps forward, arms hung over his knees and head low in relief. His reaction is oddly vindicating, if not contagious.

“How long have I been asleep?” he asks. “Time is weird here”.

“You’ve been comatose for over two weeks,” you reply. “They tried everything they could before Bakugo insisted on bringing me in. You have a lot of people waiting for you”.

Izuku inhales sharply. He makes an aborted motion to scoot closer before thinking better of it. Your attention strays to the nervous wringing of his battle worn hands. Endeared, you put your mug down and close the distance yourself. Pressed thigh to thigh, you envelop his tightly curled fists, bringing them into your lap. The shaky breath he takes is loud in the otherwise quiet room.

“Honestly I’m surprised you’re still working”.

He looks at you with an unsure, watery smile, sunlight caught in glassy eyes. His voice is thick as he asks, “What do you mean?”

You smile sadly and run your thumb over his knuckles. “You’ve been on patrol. I thought you might’ve locked yourself in your head because you needed a proper break—and who could blame you, really. But you’re working yourself thin even in your dreams”.

Izuku huffed a laugh, more breath than humour. “I love being a hero. It’s what I’ve always wanted,” he says, his voice tight. You sink into his side and feel his diaphragm stutter. “But it isn’t everything. It felt like I was suffocating and I needed something more. Something to come home to for a little while…”

His red-rimmed eyes quickly return to his lap when you meet them. “I still can’t believe you’re here. Your quirk really is incredible”.

You can feel the shame swatting at you like a summer-born heatwave, reminded of just how deeply you’ve invaded his privacy, and how easily you overstepped your bounds.

“I’m so sorry,” he continues, at the same time that you tell him, “I’m sorry, Izuku”.

“Please. Let me go first,” he murmurs like a question. You nod your assent. “I’m sorry I forced myself on you. I thought you were a part of my imagination, like the rest of this place. I should have realised you weren’t. I’m sorry,” he rambles on. “I wanted to be closer to you but I got carried away and I’m sorry”.

“You couldn’t have known. I should have told you it was me as soon as you walked in,” you firmly interject. Izuku doesn’t look any less stricken in your periphery, cheek sunken where he’s gnawing at the flesh. “And you didn’t force anything. I hardly pushed you away,” your brow wrinkles and you smile despite yourself. “I got a little lost in your head, too. Not my most professional moment I admit. But I wouldn’t want to leave either, if we were cuddled up in here all day”.

“Really?” Izuku blinks. Hope colours his cheeks. He clears his throat and shifts in place as he tries very hard to appear unaffected. “You don’t think it’s creepy—me picturing all this with you?”

You think of that young boy yoked with the burden of expectation and feel your heart crack. You can still taste his desires. They’re insipid, belying their age, as though they’d lingered long enough to stale. Izuku treasured his friends and fans', their love and loyalty; yet he felt guilty for allowing them to foster such a blind faith in his goodness. He was a man with faults like any other, capable of making mistakes, of inflicting harm. More than anything Izuku longed for someone to see the darker, uglier corners of his life, and make room for all of him. And you wanted to be the one to do it.

“I’ve imagined this with you. This and more,” bolstered by everything you’ve seen, the confession spills out with startling ease. Your eyes squint above the curve of your grin. “I like you too,” you coaxed his fist open as you spoke, mapping out the carved furrows, shallows and depths on his palm. “A lot”.

“Oh,” he exhales, slowly entangling your fingers.

You give an emphatic nod.

“How mad is Kacchan?”

“Pretty mad. But when is he not?” you laugh at his grimace. “I’ll be there as a buffer when you wake up. It’s my professional opinion that you need a few more days to recuperate and take me out for crêpes. So will you come home with me?”

There’s a gleam in his eyes—a combination of warmth and weight that tugs at your chest. His gaze flickers across your face, from your lips to your eyes in askance. You lean in and he kisses you again, sipping gently at your mouth, firm and slightly sticky with congealed blood. Strange. It feels so real. You suppose it is, in all the ways that matter.

“Okay,” he whispers after one last peck to your lips. You get to your feet as he stands and gestures nervously toward the genkan. “I, uh. I don’t really know how to get out of here so… lead the way?”

You laugh and take him by the hand. “Don’t worry. The way home is always a lot faster. It’s a little disorienting—watch your step,” you warn as he follows you through the front door. Rather than the lobby, or a stairwell, both bodies are swallowed up by darkness.

Spat out just as abruptly, your senses return to you piece by piece. Breathing through the vertigo you peel your eyes open to the rapid rise and fall of Izuku’s chest as he reorients himself. A crick in your neck, a knot in your spine. The clock reads 07:12. There are already nurses bustling around the hospital bed, likely alerted by the frantic heart monitor; that which does little to hide the way Izuku’s pulse stutters when you lift your head to get a look at him.

“I’m up,” he says, throat rough from disuse. There’s a shaky smile on his face. “I’m home”.

Your hands are still entwined, albeit a little sweaty. You smile, “Welcome home”.

#deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #q’d

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torukmaktoskxawng · 3 months

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the wooden glen

Pairing: So'lek/Human!Fem!Reader

Summary: There are plenty of abandoned Resistance field labs across the Western Frontier of Pandora, and you happen to be assigned to the one that cuts through one of So'lek's usual routes to HQ.

Word Count: 8k+

Na'vi Words Used: 'eylanay - acquaintance (with the potential of becoming a friend), kuru - queue braid, 'eylan - friend, palulukan - thanator, sevin 'eve - pretty girl, kalin - sweet, mawey - calm, tewng - loincloth, tawtute - human

Warnings: NSFW, mentions of solitude, keeping sane, potential danger, smut, dni minors, oral (fem!receive), mentioned biting, scenting, and claiming, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it you skxawng), belly bulge, creampie, swearing, etc.

Taglist: @mooniequeen

~~~~~~~~~

Wooden Glen Field Lab, a Resistance Field Lab, just northeast of the Aranahe Hometree. Your new home.

It had been overrun by the flora and fauna of Pandora, left abandoned when the Resistance had to close back up due to heavy RDA activity. Several of these sites were vacated, but times have changed, and the Resistance needed these labs back up and running now more than ever. You've never been stationed at one until now, and from where you stood, it was quaint. Back on Earth, you wouldn't have been able to afford anything at even half of this shack's size, so you took it as a blessing. Thank you, Eywa.

Speaking of, you noticed something indicating a different kind of wildlife has been through here. A campfire just outside the lab on the forest floor and Na'vi-designed woven baskets and material stationed around it. Signs of the natives using this place as shelter. One of the remaining Sarentu acted as your guide and protection for the journey here, and explained that it was normal for any friendly Na'vi to rest at the scattered field labs throughout their journies and you would likely see more of them. They didn't say much else after that, however, wishing you luck and leaving once they were sure there wasn't any nearby danger around.

Taking a deep breath through your mask, you walk up to the human-fashioned shack surrounded by wildlife and vegetation. It hadn't been used in some time, so you take out your SID device and use it to power up the small complex, watching as the lights and terminal flash then power back on as if good as new. Someone had tried to turn this place into a more welcome environment, placing various small potted plants all around the space and in makeshift shelves made of tree branches. It looked a bit hippy, and you wouldn't be surprised if the former RDA-turned-rebel who lived here used to be a botanist.

Looking up, you took note of the netted hammock that was storing extra supplies and luggage up above to keep out of the way. Looking down, you're careful to watch your step as occasional rubbish and cables scatter across the floor, left abandoned by its former resident. One side of the small lab was clearly meant to be for business, hosting a work bench, the terminal, and additional medical supplies and weaponry.

On the other side, it looked more like a living space, sporting a portable counter fridge, bookshelves, and of course all of the freaking house plants. One corner looked like a reading nook, with a bean bag made of several different colored-fabric, surrounded by papers and empty paper coffee cups, the lights above giving off a warm atmosphere. Setting down your things, you decide on tidying up your new home before settling in for the night.

You must have been cleaning the space for hours by the time you heard a faint rustle outside. Looking up, you spare a glance at the rifle on the wall before bravely deciding to check out the noise without it. It's your first night here... surely there wouldn't be any danger right away, would there? As you step out of your new base, you glance around until you notice the unlit campfire. Standing there stood a male Na'vi, but not just a random stranger.

You recognized So'lek as one of the most significant Na'vi faces who tend to prowl around Resistance HQ. Everyone knows who he is, everyone knows his story, and everyone -including humans- knows to give him a wide berth. His sharp eyes had been looking directly at you, since he noticed you before you saw him, and his gaze narrowed with suspicion just as you gasp in shock.

"Oh! Hello."

His hard stare is the only thing keeping your feet frozen to the floor of your lab before he knowingly states, "You are from the headquarters."

You nod, faintly shocked that he remembered your face, especially since neither of you have shared a word until now, "Alma and Priya asked me to man this lab so it stays functional for botany research and RDA activity."

"I see."

You relax some, only for a thought to dawn in your head as you point to the Na'vi made structure right outside your new home, "Wait, is this your campfire? Have you been living here?"

"When I occasionally travel through this area, yes."

Nodding, you open your arm out wide to gesture to the whole yard outside the lab, "You were here first, so help yourself to whatever is yours. I'll stay out of the way."

"No need," he shakes his head then, the first movement he ever made upon recognizing you, "You will be staying here for a lot longer than I. And besides, I prefer to rest outside."

"Alright, will you be resting here for the night? I think it's supposed to rain so I plan on shutting down the place and locking myself in."

"I am moving on for the night. Just needed some things I left behind. I will be coming back this direction on my way to HQ in three days."

"Sounds good. Safe travels."

He nods and turns to go, before pausing two seconds and then tilting his head back toward you, "Stay alert while you're out here, 'eylanay. Do not ever let your guard down."

~~~~~~~~~

His words were haunting and bothersome, but you suppose he doesn't have a choice than to be that way after everything he's been through. Plus, he's from this world and knows its dangers better than you do. The thought that something could be lurking just outside or staring at you through the window sent chills down your spine.

As you stated, you locked down the two large doorways that open up the shack and secure all the windows, waiting until the oxygen levels are steady before removing your mask. You had closed everything up just in time, the storm hitting just moments after. Out of everything beautiful here, you didn't envy Pandora's storms, so fierce and terrifying... and you were alone.

A beep pings from your terminal and you try to pretend you didn't dash over to answer it, "Hey, Priya."

"Hey! Did you settle in okay? Is it scary? Is it dangerous? Oh, what am I saying? Of course, it's dangerous! And scary and dangerous are almost one in the��same--"

"Priya, I'm fine," you smile to yourself, unsure if you missed her ramblings or not, "Everything's fine. It's actually quite peaceful here."

"Oh, good!"

"And it's comforting to know that So'lek treks through here often enough to where I won't feel completely alone and he could check in if I need any help."

"You saw So'lek?"

"Yeah, he just happened to be passing through."

"That's perfect! Oh, that makes me feel so much better! I'll make sure to send another radio with him next time so that you two could chat between each other or if you need him to check on you. Oh, this is gonna be great! You guys can chat to each other whenever you need some company!"

"Uh, Priya...?"

"I mean, just think about it! You're going to be living alone in the middle of the forest and he's constantly traveling alone. It's perfect! So cool!"

"Okay..." You try not to sound a little put-off by her suggestion but decided to kindly cut her off, "Hey, I think I'm gonna clock out for the night. I'm tired from the cleaning."

"Cleaning? Why did you need to clean?"

~~~~~~~~~

Three days later, So'lek comes back through, as promised. He immediately finds you outside, in your mask, wearing worn-out clothes while you work around and monitor the plants that the resident before you had planted. The plan was for you to continue their work, and while you weren't a botanist, you figured that the notes the previous tenant left behind could help you continue their research.

Looking up from taking notes, you noticed So'lek standing a half a dozen yards away from you. To attempt at being friendly, you wave him over and feel both surprise and pride when he walks closer to join you.

"I half expected to find you dead already."

"Only half?" You snort in amusement, "It's nice to hear that you had some faith in me, if only a little bit."

He kept his face blank, not reacting to your tease, "I still would never drop my guard if I were you, 'eylanay."

"Yes, yes, I know," you take note of the direction he came in and come up with your own observation, "Are you heading back to HQ?"

He nods and you flash a small smile of sympathy, "A word of warning? Priya is going to be handing you a radio to bring back to me when you get there. She wants to make sure you and I keep in contact should I ever need help."

You don't miss the small grimace on his face when you mention Priya. You can't entirely blame him, knowing that Priya is a lot to handle for someone who prefers to be left alone, and everyone knows how desperate Priya is to make Na'vi friends, So'lek most of all.

He nods once more, schooling his face back to something more neutral, "Very well. Is there anything else you need from Headquarters?"

"Uh... when do you think you'll be coming back through?"

"Less than a week."

"Maybe some rations then, just to be safe."

~~~~~~~~~

That is basically the gist of your conversations with So'lek for the next upcoming month. Every time he comes through, whether heading to or from Resistance HQ, he makes time for small talk, talk that only lasts less than ten minutes, then he's gone before you have time to say goodbye. It doesn't bother you a whole lot, but that could be from the feeling of loneliness. You'll take a few moments of conversation with practically anyone and anything if it will keep you sane from your solitude, even So'lek, who was hardly one for words to begin with. Part of you wondered if you'll end up like him if you continued working alone in this lab without anyone else to talk to you.

He never stays the night at his campfire, or maybe he does and he happens to leave before you even wake up. Either way, you never see him sitting outside or sleeping by the fire as you imagined he once did before you came along and took his space. He brings back any supplies you ask of him whenever he's on his way back from headquarters, and sometimes he brings items that Priya practically had to beg him to take to you. They weren't necessities, but you appreciated the comics and recordings of guitar solos one of the Resistance members likely cooked up. You didn't believe Priya would be capable, but you had to wonder whoever was sneaking you dirty romance novels among those supplies, and how your suspicions only heightened when you realize the novels were about a human female and her alien male lover. Despite how horrified you felt when discovering that little surprise hidden among your rations, it was... comforting, to say the least. It helped keep you sane and one with your humanity. You were also thankful that So'lek didn't appear to notice what he was tasked to give you.

One month turns into two, and there was a patch of weeks where you hadn't seen So'lek at all. A part of you told yourself not to worry, knowing he had a mission that took him in the opposite direction of your field lab, or at least that's what Priya told you. The other part of you, however, couldn't help looking out your window before bed every night, wondering if he'd be there the one time you looked. Suddenly you found yourself immerced in those dirty romance novels just to keep yourself from worrying too much, and you were beginning to question your mind when you realized you had begun to picture the male alien lover to look like So'lek in your head as you read.

That one fateful day you decide to leave the large doors completely open to let the fresh air through the lab was the one day you shouldn't have even gotten out of bed. You heard the deep growl first, then your hairs on the back of your neck stood on edge. You were inside the complex and quickly look around for your rifle, but the moment you made too quick of movement was when the thanator leaped into action. It roared loudly, deafening your small ears, as it leapt up onto the walkway leading into the lab before prowling right inside as if it owned the place, it's eyes never leaving you for a second, practically freezing you where you stand. You internally curse whoever designed those doors to be big enough for a thanator and you hope they're rotting in Hell. As the beast corners you into the smallest space of the lab, a part of you hopes you'll meet that inventor in Hell so you can kill them again yourself.

The thanator's nose scrunches as its snarling muzzle curled up, its limbs lowering closer to the ground, ready to strike. When it bows its back to pounce, you faintly catch sight of a collar or some form of restraint around the creature's neck, clearly of RDA make judging by the worn and chipped yellow paint coated over the metal. You wonder if it would be the last thing you ever see, a creation made from the ones you swore to fight against.

An entire barrage of gunfire shrieks through the air, bullets raining into the thanator's side at the same time it cries out in pain. So'lek inched forward until he leaps up into the lab, stepping into the open doorway and continuing his assault until he empties the entire clip into the beast's hind. As he's going to reload, the thanator decides to retreat, mewling and whining in pain as it tries to limp out of the opposite door it came through. So'lek had other ideas, however, loading his rifle once more and emptying out another whole clip into the beast, even after its body fell dead outside.

So'lek finally stopped, the silence ringing in your ears after being forced to be in the same small space as an assault rifle. He hops back out of the lab and trudges over to the dead body outside, knife in hand just to be safe. You take your time, gasping for breath as your mask hissed and testing your shaking legs out as you slowly but surely step right outside the door to see for yourself.

"I... I thought thanators were territorial?" You find your voice, swallowing down saliva when your chords cracked from fear, "Last I checked, this place wasn't in any known territory."

"These are the Severed kind our Sarentu informers have been running into," So'lek explained almost robotically while nudging the dead creature with his foot, "Animals whose kuru have been cut. Experiments, courtesy of the Sky People."

"There... Usually, there are two of them, right?"

"Nor mentioned he managed to kill one, but not its partner. This must have been the one that got away." He paused as if remembering something, before his eyes finally peer up to meet yours, "Are you alright?"

Your exhale isn't very strong, and your voice quivered, but you nod, "I... I think so. Just... shakened..."

His eyes squint, but he didn't look as though he was judging or analyzing you. He looked... for lack of a better word, concerned, "Perhaps I should take you back to base camp."

You shake your head while trying to muster a weak, joking smile, "I think I need to sleep for two days straight before I do that. That took a lot out of me."

He doesn't comment and instead offers to help clean up the mess of bullets and anything the thanator might have knocked out of place while causing a rampage through the base. You don't refuse or even agree, you just nod and move back inside to get started.

The two of you clean up in silence, all the while So'lek keeps a close eye on you, and you pretend not to notice. It's hard not to, however, since his gaze can drive your skin to rise and heat up unlike anyone you've ever met before.

He noticed how your hands were still shaking as you pick up a couple of fallen books, "'Eylan..."

"I'm alright," you wave off, too strung up to even acknowledge the achievement of gaining a new friendship status with the hard-won Na'vi man, "Just... too tense. How did you know I needed help?"

"I was already on my way here. I picked up the animal's scent and started to run and hope I wasn't too late."

You didn't dare assume that tone in his voice was trembling. You knew that assuming anything out of someone who kept his cards close to his chest would be wrong. Your eyes briefly look up at the Na'vi man, a faint smile on your lips, "You weren't. You were right on time. Thank you..."

Unbeknowst to you, So'lek's chest squeezed almost painfully at the sight of your grateful smile. Even through all that adrenaline and fear, you were still standing and unharmed, which relieved him so much to the point that it frightened him. He didn't think he would feel such fear when he had first caught the scent of the feral palulukan mixed in with the one he had come to associate with you. And yet, his legs moved before his mind was made up, running faster than he ever thought possible out of desperation.

To hear your reassurance that he had managed to save you on time strikingly comforted him, and yet, he didn't feel as though you were completely safe despite the danger being gone. He moved his eyes to watch the world outside your window to avoid your gaze as he spoke,

"I do not feel comfortable moving on and leaving you here alone tonight. If it will help, I will keep watch as you rest."

With his eyes off yours, he failed to notice your face heat up or the bug-eyed expression you sent his way. Of course, you knew you wouldn't sleep very well tonight and would like nothing more than to have some company after nearly dying. However, you also tried to play it cool and nonchalant. After all, this man did warn you to always keep your guard up, and you would hate to disappoint him, despite the odd friendship you now shared.

You simply shrug as a way to try and hide your embarrassment, "I know it'd be useless to try and convince you otherwise, so do what you want."

You activate the doors to slide completely shut, locking the two of you inside as you listen for the familiar hiss of oxygen being filtered in and out. Only when the terminal deems it safe do you remove your mask and walk over the mask station. You hang up yours and retrieve a smaller one for So'lek, handing the device to him. So'lek expertly breathes into the mask once and then lets the device dangle around his neck before he moves to the window. You watch him retreat before moving over to snuggle into the bean bag resting in the corner, trying to ignore the tall Na'vi now standing by your window as you close your eyes.

While he kept watch, he also occasionally watched you as well. You looked even smaller than usual, lying curled up in the bean bag as if trying to disappear from the world. After everything you've been through today, it's understandable you'd still be antsy, but So'lek had to commend you for how brave and put-together you appeared to be in the face of danger. He doesn't know many sky demons who are capable of that, which is why he had found himself conversing with you more than he should have over the course of these months.

Since the day you first arrived at Wooden Glen, an ugly part in his head immediately told him to stay back, keep away from you, and try not to get used to your scent. Despite hating most humans -with the Resistance balancing on that tight rope-, he surprised even himself when he didn't feel those emotions toward you. You, who immediately gave him space and didn't question him. You, who respected his boundaries and opted to live peacefully in the same space when you learned he would occasionally rest at the lab. You weren't defensive or suspicious, and you didn't expect anything from him. Sure, most of the Resistance fighters were like that -hence why they no longer worked for the RDA- but none of them were you.

So'lek may be hard to talk to and therefore found it hard to form bonds, but he's not blind. He knows beauty when he sees it, and despite hating almost everything the Sky People create, he didn't hate whatever method of creation made you. You were not Na'vi by any means, yet he couldn't help the way his eyes scan your body, so much smaller in comparison to his, and wonder what it would be like to press you into him. And your scent-- oh, your scent. Somehow, it lingered in his nostrils even from miles away in a vastly different part of Pandora. There wasn't much to your scent. It wasn't perfume or deodorant. Nothing distinct, and yet he knows it's you the moment he catches a whiff of it. It's not a bad scent. It's just you. He internally knows that there's nothing bad about it, least of all you.

So you could imagine the horror he felt when he had drawn close to the lab that day, only to smell a thanator in your general direction.

Unaware of his staring, you felt unnerved and restless now that you were finally trying to sleep. You weren't sure if you had laid there for hours or mere minutes, but you began to toss and turn, your heart beating loudly in your chest and unable to slow down.

So'lek noticed your transgressions immediately and voiced his thoughts, "You should get some sleep, my friend."

"I can't," you murmur quietly, "I'm too jumpy and too tense... Too cold."

He wasn't sure what came over him, but the sight of you restless and your claims of being cold pulled him from the window. He strides across the room and crouches in front of your form, ignoring the shock and hidden worry behind your eyes. You had grown still, a little cautious as to what would happen or what he would do if you moved. You get your answer as his large hand slowly rises up and rests over your forehead. You didn't dare move, feeling the heat of his palm against your face, and-- by god, his hand was so large, it could easily fit your whole skull without a problem.

He stomps down whatever he is feeling in his gut when his hand presses against your skin, a little shocked at how smooth you feel beneath his touch. He hadn't experienced many humans before, especially not up close and personal. The softness of your skin was... new and an interesting sensation. So'lek couldn't help but wonder what the rest of you might feel like beneath his touch.

He huffs with a faint smirk on his lips, "You are definitely cold."

Despite seeing anything other than a scowl on his face for the first time, you couldn't help the slight sting of your sarcasm emerge, scoffing and lightly swatting his hand away, "Thanks, Captain Obvious."

His eyes squint in confusion, "I do not understand."

"Never mind," you wave it off easily enough, starting to sit up before you notice So'lek inching closer, beginning to crowd your space. Your jaw nearly slacked before you picked it back up and found your words again, "Uh... what are you doing?"

He wasn't entirely sure himself. His usual instinct to stay away was nonexistent. A different instinct took over, and he wasn't sure if it terrified or intrigued him, but the scent you were giving off definitely wasn't helping him form a clear thought.

"Warming you up."

He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world as if your heart didn't just threaten to leap straight out of your mouth as his large body suddenly started to surround you in every sense of the word. It could've been from being so touch-starved and lonely, or it could've been your attraction toward him. Either way, your body immediately felt hot, and he wasn't even completely touching you yet. If you had half a sensible mind, you would immediately look away from the intensity of his sharp, yellow gaze, hiding the blush beginning to creep up over your face, but you didn't. You found yourself entranced by him, unable to look away.

He's pressing into your space now, completely pinning you into the bean bag, and yet you didn't feel scared or suspicious of ill intent. You felt yourself trusting his slow methods... as if he was testing to see what you would do. The long length of his strongly corded body overpowers your smaller form, encompassing you with his... well, everything. He took up your vision, your touch, and your hearing, and suddenly, you felt your mouth go dry with the need to taste as well. His eyes flick down, away from your eyes, and your mouth unconsciously opens in a silent gasp. You watch his eyes stare intently at your lips, his strong jaw visibly tightening underneath his skin. His face leans closer to yours until you feel his hot breath fan over your face, forcing your eyes to blink. He briefly looks up to watch your pretty eyelashes flutter before finally opening his mouth.

"Yes or no, sevin 'eve?"

You don't know what that means, but your body shivers in response regardless. You're scared to reach out and touch first in case this is all just a dream after falling asleep while reading those romance novels. You don't miss the way his brow ridge furrows as if in pain as he watched you wet your bottom lip and find the words to speak,

"Yes."

He's molding your lips together before the word even fully leaves your mouth, forcing you to inhale through your nose and feeling dizzy by the scent of his musk. His lips were bigger than yours, making the kiss sloppy until the two of you found a rhythm that suited you both. The air was stolen from your lungs as he seemed hellbent on constantly chasing your lips whenever you needed to pull away to breathe.

You weren't sure how long you kissed, losing track of time, immersed in the sensation before you were all too aware of the wet patch forming between your legs with the way he carefully laid his weight down on your pelvis. You find yourself moaning into his mouth, and his reaction is instantaneous.

His hands are finally on you, starting at your waist and moving up, pushing the fabric of your shirt up as he goes to expose your skin to him. Your heart leaps at the feel of his large hands, practically covering your entire waist, able to expand his fingers over the soft valley of your stomach.

His amazement is replaced by a scowl when his hands push your shirt up enough to expose your bra, "Why must your people feel the need to cover yourselves in so many layers? This is criminal."

You're not offended, finding yourself breathlessly laughing at his expense. You move your hands to grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head, "If you think that's bad, you should try unhooking this thing."

He frowns but doesn't protest, taking his mask and breathing in its contents, waiting for your instruction as he stares down at your bra as if it offended him by simply existing. Dare I say it almost looked as though he was pouting if such an expression existed within So'lek. You bite your lip to refrain from laughing more and gently grasp his hands. He clearly had the strength to pull away, his hands so much larger than yours, but he lets you guide him to the expanse of your back where he's met with the strap of your bra. Small hooks kept the offending piece of fabric together, and while he tried to fiddle with it, it only made his frustration grow.

You're not surprised when he finally gives up and just rips the bra apart like it was nothing, but you still groan in slight annoyance, "I only have a few of those, you know."

"You will not be needing any of them from here on out," he states gruffly, with confidence, as he moves down to plant large, smooth kisses down the front of your neck and toward the space between your now exposed breasts, your heartbeat strong against his lips.

So'lek was determined to be rid of all of your bras in the near future. He'll burn them if he has to. This world is not a place for the Sky People's opinions on indecent exposure, nor is their culture and fashion welcome in So'lek's eyes. As if he needed another reason to hate the Sky People, their insistence on covering someone as beautiful as you up was the cherry on top.

His hands and mouth move onto your breasts, squeezing and kissing, licking over both of your nipples. You were more pliable and squishy compared to Na'vi women, but So'lek loved it because it just meant there was more of you to hold. He liked the feel of your tits, warm and heavy in his palms. Why need a bra when his hands are literally right here?

You lean back, sighing up at the ceiling and gasping when he slips one of your nipples into his mouth, unknowingly arching your back to push your chest further into his hands, much to his inner delight. His tongue is wet and rough, running circles around the bud until it forms into a peak then he moves on to the other one, keeping his hand occupied on whichever tit that wasn't currently in his mouth. Your skin rises wherever he touches, and your hips involuntarily try to move, your need for anything to press between your legs only growing when So'lek gently bites his teeth around the tit he was playing with. You nearly rock your hips up at the feel of his fangs sinking slowly into your skin, not puncturing or causing you to bleed, but causing a bruise to form when he finally pulled away, your breasts now slicked with his saliva and one marked with his teeth.

His breath was unsteady now, his eyes blown out of proportion, hiding the yellow color behind those black voids of a pupil. His eyes rake over your form, smugly enjoying how flushed you look with wet, kiss-bitten lips, tangled hair, and scrunched eyebrows, Sitting back on his hunches and taking it all in, So'lek's eyes finally land on your lower half, your thigh muscles clenching at the way his expression turns to hunger.

He hooks his fingers into the hem of your bottoms and helps peel them off your legs, again, showing his disapproval when his need to see all of you is obstructed by your panties.

His hands reach down to grab a hold of the panties, but you find enough willpower to remember to pull away as you fix him a stern look, "I am not letting you rip these."

He scoffed half-heartedly, "They are already ruined," he emphasizes this by gently beginning to rub a finger over your clothed clit, the bold movement surprising you enough to forget your words and gasp out in pleasure. The movement of his fingers sent your head spiraling, unaware you were so worked up to the point that a simple touch had you needy for more. He leans over you, keeping his finger's speed steady as his voice whispers into your ear, "Do you not feel how soaked and uncomfortable they feel?"

You groan in response, silently agreeing that the wet fabric rubbing against your most sensitive area wasn't as pleasant as say his fingers. Part of you wanted him to rip the panties off you so he could quickly return to drawing circles and figure eights over your clit, but the more logical part in your head reminded you that underwear was more crucial than a bra for everyday life. You wiggle your hips and with So'lek's help, you manage to get the panties off at least one of your legs and let it dangle around your other ankle before kicking it off all the way.

So'lek's breath stuttered as he stared down at the tight, shiny wet cunt between your legs, so small that his thumb nearly envelops half of it as he continues to play with your now bare clit. The slick makes it easier to rub and your moans slip out of your mouth without a fear of anyone else hearing. The thought of being able to let you make as many lewd noises as possible without anyone around sent a thrill up his spine.

He found himself moving until he was lying on his stomach, his head inching forward between your legs. Once you realized his intentions, your body began to writhe with anticipation, a little nervous but wanting this all the same. His hot breath fanned down the inside of your leg and gusting over your pussy, making your inner walls unconsciously clench around nothing.

When you felt the wet warmth of his tongue run up the seam of your pussy, you're startled into moaning up at the ceiling, "Fuck, So'lek--"

"Mm..." he mumbled, the vibrations sent straight into your heat and making your skin tingle. He's unashamed of how loud he was being, drinking you up like he's a man trapped in the desert, his moans and tongue causing the most erotic sensation that you have never felt before. His tongue dips into your greedy hole as a gasp is stolen from your lungs.

He hummed as if he just tasted the sweetest fruit, "Kalin."

"Oh, God..." You respond, moving your hips to press further into his mouth. He doesn't seem to mind and eagerly takes as much of you as he can, pressing his nose into your clit as he licks up what he could only describe as your sweet nectar.

He takes it a step further once he knows you're wet and ready and inserts a finger into your entrance, slowly pushing it despite there wasn't much resistance yet. He carefully watched the way you bucked and arched your back as if your body was trying to decide to pull away or push for more. Your eyes were closed, wanting to just feel every sensation, the bottom of your stomach already warm and fluttery. Once So'lek added a second of his large fingers, he felt a tiny stretch against the initial ring of muscle, but it gave way barely a second later and welcomed him into your tight warmth. He slowly pulls his fingers in and out, trying to commit the sound of you and your responsive body to memory, all the while licking up your slick and pressing his nose into your clit.

It felt as though he was in several places at once, and the growing ache was igniting a pleasant, burning fire within you. Every lick and every thrust of his fingers were barreling you closer to some unforeseen peak, threatening to push you over the edge. You rock your hips against his face, thighs beginning to tremble around his head. He moaned deep into your pussy as he felt the muscle of your inner thighs flex and pressed down tightly around him. It was glorious and exhilarating, driving So'lek to pump his fingers in and out of you, faster and faster.

"Ah~!" You jolt, hands quickly reaching down and tangling into his hair, helping you thrust your hips more closely into his face. The sounds coming from your mouth and pussy was so obscene, normally, you'd feel embarrassed, but right now you weren't even paying attention. You were more focused on grinding into So'lek's face, chasing after your own release, feeling it rise and rise as the coil begins to dangerously tighten.

"So'lek--" Your plea is abruptly cut off by a moan escaping your lips, your body trembling in response to him curling his fingers just right inside of you. It drove you into a frenzy, now grinding your hips faster as you cried out, "So'lek! Do that again-- fuck... I'm so close..."

He moans, going even faster while repeating the movements you begged him to mimic, his tongue eager to lap you up and taste everything you could give him. Your fingers tighten in his hair and the sensation nearly makes his eyes rolls back, more eager than ever to feel and see you finish.

You're unable to warn him as your climax barely had time to build up before it snapped and let go, your screams of pleasure filling up the lab as your pussy pulses and sends waves of hot ecstasy up and down your body. The whole time your orgasm clings to you, so does So'lek, his tongue and fingers still working in and out of you, riding out your high. He groans when you spill into his mouth, your thighs uncontrollably shaking all around him and your pretty little noises add to his already aching cock.

By the time you're beginning to relax and turn to jelly in his hands, he finally pulls his mouth away, gasping deeply for air only to choke and remember than he needed the breathing mask around his neck to do so. Licking his lips, he brings the mask up to his face and takes long, deep breaths, in and out, closing his eyes and moaning when his smells you on his own breath. Opening his eyes, he finds you with your eyes still closed and a small, satisfied smile on your face. It feels as though he has no choice when he leans down to kiss you, wishing to feel that sweet, irresistible smile with his own lips. You hum lightly, kissing back with your hands gently soothing his scalp where you had initially pulled his hair, a soft moan escaping his lips when the soreness is slowly massaged away. You can feel his moan on your lips, the taste of his tongue intoxicating once you realize he tasted like you. You shift underneath him, needing more as your hands move to start disrobing his chest pieces and loincloth.

"Mawey..." he moaned softly, even as his hips moved to give you better access to his tewng.

Despite not understanding him completely, you could tell by his tone that he wanted you to slow down. You had to crane your neck to peer up at him, and suddenly his reluctance immediately caves, his heart clenching with the way you stare up at him with half-lidded eyes, long eyelashes, and wet lips. He manages to unclip his vest before diving back in to kiss you, savor you, his large hands on either side of your face, fingers raking into your hair.

You sigh in content, closing your eyes while you return the passionate effort, trying not to get distracted as your hands begin to untie his loincloth. You feel him before you can see him, both of you pulling out of the kiss to gasp as your hand grabs a hold of his cock. The fact that your hand couldn't fully wrap around the width told you all you needed to know, and once you caught a glimpse of him, your mouth began to water.

Your fingertips and thumb were nearly an inch apart, unable to touch. Maybe it was your imagination, but the only thing you could compare to describe the size of So'lek's cock was your own forearm, much to your distress and excitement. There was no way he was going to fit, but by Eywa, you needed to try.

Using your free hand, you gently grab the back of So'lek's neck and pull him in for another kiss, just to be sure he didn't make any other protests. For added measure, you slowly move your other hand up and down his length, causing full body shivers to erupt across his back. You catch a bead of precum at the tip and slather it over his cock, making your movements easier on his sensitive, uncut skin.

It was easier to coherce him than you originally thought it would, moving the both of you until you were flat on your back, bean bag forgotten, with So'lek hovering above you, his hips flush between your legs. His cock stood tall between your bodies as your hand continued to move up and down the impressive length. His eyes squeeze shut, a small snarl on his lips as a growl runs through him. Both of his hands are planted on either side of your head, holding him up as he tries to regain control of himself, enjoying your touch but trying to restrain the overbearing thoughts that involve plunging deep inside of you no matter how loud you scream.

"Ma'kalin... I do not want to hurt you."

"Please..." you whimper desperately, hand moving up and down his cock faster while you arch your back to try and get closer, "I need you... I promise to tell you my limits."

He paused to consider this, opening his eyes to watch yours for anything, and all he could see was your lust and desperation for him. His ears lower, wondering what he did to deserve such a need for him, and how he could've possibly deserved it. Regardless of his inner demons, his own need for you clouds most of his usual judgments and he surrenders to you, nodding once before spitting into his hand and gently moving your hand off of his cock. You both moan as his hand rubs up and down his length, and hopefully the saliva and pre cum you had spread earlier would be enough to slip inside your tight heat with ease.

You sit up, and for a moment he's alert at the idea you are changing your mind, but you smile and grab his mask, lifting it up to his mouth, "Take a breath first."

"Curse this thing," he mutters under his breath, his tail twitching behind him at the soft sound of your laugh. He does as he's told and takes a deep breath before letting the mask fall back around his neck.

He lies you back down as your lips meet once more, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Your movements stalled when you felt the tip of his cock press on your clit before slowly dragging down toward your entrance, making your breath hitch in anticipation.

So'lek parts from the kiss and briefly brushes his lips over your soft cheek, "Now it is your turn to take a breath."

You nod obediantly, expanding your lungs as you deeply inhale just as he began to press his cock into your pussy. Your hands immediately fly up to hang onto So'lek's hair once more when you felt your pussy begin to stretch around his cock, his movements so agonizingly slow but you appreciated it once that ring of muscle that held his length like a vice grip in your entrance began to burn. You slowly exhale, albiet a little shaky at the uncomfortable stretch. Looking down, your internally horrified that he's barely two inches inside of you. A soft whimper escapes your throat and So'lek is swift to reassure you, dipping his head into the crook of your neck while his hand reaches between your bodies to gently rub your clit to ease the pain.

"I know..." his presses a kiss into the side of your neck, "I know. You are doing so well, ma'kalin, taking my cock so well..."

You mewl beneath his praise, taking a better, deeper breath as he pushes another inch inside. The burn isn't as painful and as his thumb continues to rub your clit, the stretch almost feels arousing. You already want to move your hips up to meet his, but you remain still instead, hellbent on the idea of getting him to fit in as much as possible before doing anything else.

It's a few minutes of patience and determination, but eventually, you can feel the tip of So'lek's cock breach the top of your cervix, bumping into that special, spongy spot that makes you whimper with pleasure.

"By Eywa..." So'lek groans quietly into your neck, "Feel yourself, ma'kalin."

You do as your told and reach down to where you know his thumb is currently rubbing your clit, only to pause when you felt something unfamiliar on your body. A large protrusion beneath your skin, sticking out of your abdomen. You look down between your bodies and moan. So'lek was only able to fit his cock a little over halfway in, and whatever he could fit was now forming a large bulge in your belly. You reach and press down on the bulge, the instant response was So'lek gripping tightly onto your hips.

"You..." he sounds as though he's been punched, groaning when you unintentionally squeeze around him until he finds his words, "You are so tight. I can feel every inch of you squeezing my cock."

"Does it hurt?" You ask with a small hint of worry.

A small quiver of a smile rises in the corner of his mouth, able to hide it in your shoulder as his kisses a small freckle on your skin, "In a good way. Always a good way. Keep tightening around me and I might finish without even moving."

A staggered breath escapes your lips, closing your eyes just to feel it all. The feel of being so full, the feel of his finger on your clit, the feel of his large body on top of you, both of your bodies moulded together, despite difference in size. Your gummy walls clench, and you feel the way his cock twitches in response, followed by a small snarl that released from deep in So'lek's chest. Your hands gently card through his hair and be sure to avoid his kuru when you guide him out of the juncture of your neck to look at him. You're not disappointed by his expression, his hairless brow pinched together in blissful agony, a small bead of sweat dripping down from his forehead and over the scar on the side of his face. You find your fingers following the pattern of the scar, tracing it and catching the bead of sweat, wiping it away.

He opens his eyes at your small gesture, staring wide eyed at you as if he had made some sort of new discovery. Your stomach fluttered in response, meeting his gaze as a roar of need waves through you. Without breaking eye contact, you move your hips and it only helps his cock slip further inside you.

He nearly buckled then and there, startled to the point he needed to remember to hold himself above you so you wouldn't be crushed. He growls deep in his throat, the bridge of his muzzle scrunched up as he grit his teeth. Unbeknowst to him, his reaction made your heart skip a beat, and if he wasn't already buried deep inside you, your legs would've no doubt clenched together to relieve the heat beginning to grow. Taking your hint, So'lek begins to moves his hips, pulling out and only going as far to leave the tip inside before sliding back in, your stuttering breaths mingling together as the ridges of his cock bumps and fits in all of the grooves of your aching walls, creating the most erotic friction you knew no toy could ever recreate. The idea of this man ruining all other sexual experiences for you was both enticing and mournful, knowing you would never be able to properly get yourself off ever again. Then again, you wouldn't mind always having to go to him in order to climax from here on out. Just as long as he felt the same.

Slick with sweat, your bodies slide together as So'lek finally starts to pick up the pace, the sound of skin slapping together filling up the lab that was your little corner of paradise. Each of his thrusts punches a moan out of you, your hands moving to get a better grip on his body, only to leave long and angry scratch marks up and down his back, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips.

The pleasant sting of your nails only encourages So'lek to rut more roughly into you, growling and snarling in your ear, an animalistic desire driving him to chase after your cervix with every thrust. The instinct to mark you all over clouded his mind, but he purposely clenched his jaw to refrain from doing so. For now, the scent he already left on you would be enough to mark his claim. It was also driving him to his climax quicker than he wanted, not when he wanted you to reach yours first. It wasn't just a want. It was a need for him.

Needing to help you reach your peak faster, he puts his hands and tongue to work. He had to hunch a little uncomfortably to reach his intended target, but it was all worth it when one hand was figioursly rubbing your clit while his tongue swirled around one of your nipples, driving the coil in your stomach to start winding up unbearably tight, already oozing out small waves of ectsasy like warm honey.

"So'-- fuck!" You gasp, your body already beginning to shake, "I'm going to come--"

"Do it," he growled out, unintentionally turning the phrase into an order as his hips stutter before returning to their previous pace, "Come on my cock, sevin 'eve. Let me... by Eywa-- hear how good I make you feel."

His cock rams right into the best spot inside of you, your screams heightened as you began to see stars, "Fuckfuckfuck!"

You grab onto the only thing you could reach, his forearms, and let yourself go. Your toes curl as the coil inside you snaps, sending wave after wave of pounding pleasure through you from head to toe, flooding all of your other senses with the rush of your high, making your head feel light. Your mouth had fallen open in a silent scream, too overwhelmed to make any other sounds.

Your pussy was clenching and unclenching around So'lek's cock as you come, and the sight of you made his own head feel dizzy. The breathy groans he lets out makes your walls clench tighter around him, and after a few more quick thrusts, he's burying his cock as deep as he could get and spilling inside your already full pussy, painting your pulsating walls in large streams of white. He has to remove his hands from your body to keep himself upright, and even then you faintly notice the way his arms shake from such intensity. You two take those few moments to remain still, basking in your shared orgasms, panting heavily and not wanting to move if it meant the high would fade faster.

You had thought he had emptied everything inside you, but when he slowly and agonizingly pulled out, he was still spilling out a few short streams of cum and they end up landing onto your stomach, his cock twitching as he watched his essence stream down your skin and leak out of your pussy. His heart was still racing and his muscles were tense, unable to relax as his cock continued to twitch as he tried to catch his breath.

You take pity on him and move your arms around his frame, manovering him until he's lying on his side next to you. His muscles finally relax once he's not holding himself up, groaning quietly once he manages to press his mask to his mouth and take another breath.

He's reaching for you tiredly even before he's letting the mask drop around his neck, "I will clean you up..."

"Not now," you reply, boldly curling up into his chest to keep warm once the air in the lab had cooled down. You close your eyes and smile to yourself, "Just take your time. I'm in no rush."

He's hesitant at first, but he eventually wraps his arms around you, trying not to think too hard about this little tawtute currently safe in his embrace, your breathing starting to slow as you're finally relaxed enough to go to sleep, using his chest to rest your head. With the cloud of lust lifting, his mind is at war while his heart is at peace. He knows he shouldn't be selfish after what just happened, but he secretly wishes to have this moment all the time. Every night with you would be marvelous... but he's not sure if that's what you want, despite having just fucked you silly.

He lets himself be selfish for a little while longer, just for tonight, his fingertips lightly following the path down your spine, creating goosebumps on your skin, and lulling you to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~

Reference photos for the field lab HERE!

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tarjapearce · 13 days

Text

Heathens (Pt. 2)

Priest! Miguel O'Hara x Nun! Reader

Art by @mar_mar0u in X

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Religious topics, Corruption Kink, Oral in holy places (Male receiving) Fingering, implicit Breeding kink, Angst, violence (Whipping, and other physical injuries) Character background, sexual and mutual pining, power dynamics, not proofread.

Summary: Father Miguel is growing tired of his beatific life.

A|N : reblogs and feedback fuel me :'). Thanks in advance.

Previous Spanish Version

Miguel tried, tried with all his might to fool himself. It was one of those things he excelled at like no other.

The war won't reach us.

He'd always mumble to his coworkers back at the machinery factory. A place he was designated after failing thr recruitment's medical tests. On purpose.

He faked his eye sight terrible and a slurred speech enough for the doctors to deem him a failing specimen that wouldn't last for more than days, in a war that had brought nothing but calamit to everyone involved.

People barely spoke to him at the factory, which played off perfect. He did his job, none bothered him except for reaching things too far of reach, and he got home safe.

A lanky man that slowly but surely developed his brawns within the heavy duty line. His job was to fix and assemble motors that would end up in cars, planes, ships and whatever medium used to destroy the enemy.

Part of Nueva York was already destroyed. The echelons in society blurred to the point of subduing everyone under the same category in the neighbor states. Refugees.

The church played an important part as they took as many as they could under their beatific walls.

Miguel wasn't a devote believer, but respected the business enough to help whenever they required it in his little town. Anyone who helped others in need had his respect.

If the church needed a new roof to harbor in more refugees, he and other men would make it. The innate feeling of helping and guiding others was something the Church's Father always complimented.

He explained Miguel what would he do in case he turned himself to God and follow a path of holy life. But no matter how much the Father spoke, his ties to the world and it's pleasures were too much to give up.

Miguel had all the qualities of being the perfect Father, but how could he consider such thing when the woman underneath him, writhed while clawing at his back, and begged the heavens above for him to not stop? Begged him to plow harder within her drenched and spasming walls over and over?

A Father would never do that. He didn't care if he was called basic for wanting sex. He didn't care if he was called greedy for wanting a nice car and a little property in a secluded area in the outskirts of Roeville.

And he definitely didn't care if he was called thoughtless for wanting a little family in the admist of chaos. Someone to get home to. Cause again, a Church's father would never. They could never do such things. If anything, he'd fulfill the lord's command of multiplying one day.

He was more than happy as he was, living a relatively innocuous life.

The war won't reach us.

A lie he fed himself to the point of turning it into his personal mantra. And when none else that those three words came into the town, in the shape of armored rebels, destroying everything he had worked for so hard, Miguel knew a decision needed to be done.

He took the remaining survivors out and guided them away from cruel eyes that wouldn't doubt into recruiting them into their madness.

He might have escaped the elite pass to a major scale war, but he often forgot about the opposition. The opportunists that would gain power in the right hands of ignorant and bloodthirsty people.

The rebels had gone town to town, forcefully recruiting men to join their barracks, to fight against a new order that promised nothing but their rights removed.

Miguel didn't want to know shit about it. He didn't want to partake in a war he didn't start. He didn't want to leave the commodities life had served him so far. In fact, as he guided the people through the frozen river, he begged his neglected friend above to allow him to keep a rather easy life.

But rebels caught up to him, killing those that dared to run away, gaining the immediate end for treason to a cause they've never pledged for. A bullet ricocheted on the six year old boy propped on his shoulders, falling immediately to the glacial waters.

Miguel didn't doubt and pulled the kid out, despite feeling his bones freezing and numbing, and hauled him to the ground. If blood loss didn't kill him, hypothermia would. There was little he could do but offer the child a few words of consolation as he held his feeble and trembling form, drowning in tears; feeling the short life escaping warmly through his fingers.

Shouting, screaming and a couple of shots was all he could discern before an armored man pulled him by the collar, making him drop the boy's body to the ground and kneel. The tip of the man's weapon rested a bit too intimate on his head.

"P-Por favor!" (Please)

Miguel mumbled in between nervous pants snd clattering teeth as his hands rose in defense.

The man interrogated him, in spanish. Where was he from, where were the rest and what did he do. And like an epiphany, his mouth spilled the words not even in his wildest dreams he thought pronouncing.

"Soy... Soy un Padre, de la Parroquia San Buenaventura. Sólo vine a ayudar." (I'm a Father, from San Buenaventura's Parish. I came here to help.)

Said parish had been visited during his childhood and possibly long forgotten and non-existant by now, everything he knew about holy endeavours was thanks to his reluctant catholic upbringing. And it was enough to prolonging his stay in this realm.

"Porqué huiste entonces?" (Why did you run away then?)

"No quiero morir." (I don't wanna die.)

The man scrutinized his soul, but the words had came out his plump mouth with such conviction, it left no room for doubtsto those that wouldn't hesitate in shooting at the minimum sign of lying.

Miguel could be one of those people that could say undoubtedly God has a dark sense of humor. Cause none other than the leader asked him to bless him and his weapons to then take the reduced and mourning group to the nearest church.

And now, almost a decade and holy studies later, he preached the mass to people in town. Donned with the holy robes that would screech with condemning words if people ever knew what crossed his mind every time he laid his eyes on you.

His little lamb. His ever delicious little lamb, awaiting to be corrupted by none other than the wolf himself.

Cause that night, back at his den, corruption had ruled over both of your minds. Not only he had shown you what pleasure was and how you could achieve it on your own, but promised more.

More of him exploring places of your body none had the blessing of doing so before. More of him tasting those areas you only though of a single purpose, but his tongue had proven multi-task. More of that debauchery ritual where you'd finally be his.

With a heavy heart and little words beyond see you soon, you left to your duties, back to the reality. Leaving him alone with a painful and raging boner. Screaming for him to not neglect it that way ever again.

And he tried. By God he was trying to not pull you to a nearby storage room and taste you again. His whole body turned into this needy mass of nerves whenever you stared his way a second too long.

The remaining innocence in you, edged him into fisting his hand around himself and pump into oblivion at night before sleeping. His mind took a recent knack for torturing him.

It reminded him of the first months into his chastity vows, and how close he was into breaking them with a woman that was beyond willing to satisfy her own curiosity regarding priests, but war, his cruel friend; acted as the main motivator to remain within line, since it still waged outside and men were still needed outside to die.

And no matter how many gorgeous women paraded under his radar, his vows remained intact.

Until you showed up, drenched in his door, in dire need of help. Not only had you shaken every promise he was trained to believe, to their very core. But ebbed him to his old sinful ways.

The wolf's pelt was growing too large within the sheep's robe he had disguised himself with, in order to run from a fate that was nothing more than a premature death.

The parishioner's voice snapped him out of his darkening thoughts, he dictated a penance and an absolution prayer, not really caring for the man's sins, cause he was worse. He closed the confessional window and stood to open the door.

Only to find the reason of his impure thoughts before him, sitting on the floor, polishing the altar's candle-snuffer.

His dark pupils were blown wide as your hands stroked with gentle moves the handle. How such mundane task turned his gears for the wrong turn was the proof of your power over him.

His groin twitched when your hand circled around the brass bar and moved up and down the rag to remove as much dust as possible, pumping softly.

"Sister."

His voice came out in a husky mumble he tried to keep in his usual deep tinge. But his composure cracked as soon as you turned around and stared back with those beautiful doe eyes of yours.

He gulped.

"What are you doing, pequeña?"

"Sister Leanne sent me to polish the altar's tool as a punishment for the missing vegetables in the inventory."

You mumbled between nervous laughs. And he chuckled. Of course Sister Leanne would do that. As gentle as the woman was, she didn't hesitate into applying discipline the way she saw fit.

She needed to set an example, even more when she was about to be ascended to Mother Superior or Abess.

"I apologize."

"Whatever for, Father?

"I can't deny part of it it's my fault. As I lead you astray from your original tasks."

A flush crept on your cheeks as soon as your mind flooded with the remnants of that night.

"It was the rain, Father. Not you."

"I thought I told you to not call me that when alone."

"I'm sorry. Some habits are hard to kill."

"And remove."

You swallowed a thick lump. His eyes were already undressing you with his red-ish gleam.

"I... started to wear less layers."

May God have mercy on his soul, cause his need gnawing at his flesh certainly wasn't having it. His chest puffed with a deep inhale

"You were right about them. They're... They're heavy to wear. Makes it impractical for almost everything."

He nodded knowingly as an idea popped in his already tainted and corrupted mind.

"That's true. Robes makes it heavier and slows you down."

"I thought the cassock was lightweight? "

He shook his head and offered you his hand for you to stand up. A hidden invitation to his wicked game. You took it.

"It is when done with the proper materials. Otherwise is heavy." He led you inside the confessional. And closed the door as soon as you were in. Cornering you against the hefty oak doors.

Your breath hitched as soon as his hands placed yours on his chest. A pleased purr rumbled through upon the contact.

"Heavy isn't it?" You nodded while feeling the smooth and thick fibers of cotton, stretching all over his chest underneath your fingertips.

"That's why I don't use layers underneath."

Heat begun pooling in the pit of your stomach, "You don't?

He didn't have to instruct you verbally to confirm such thing. His eyes guided your hands through the map of his body to finally stop inches above his tightened crotch.

His heart crinkled with utter delight upon seeing your eyes widen and blink while admiring him. Hardening even further at every second you weren't touching him.

"It's alright. Don't be ashamed. Knowing one's body is crucial to identify where some sins come from."

He sat at the chair, his throne, with his legs sprawled, the cassock tightened around his well sculpted and worked legs, tightening enough to outline the silhouette of his awakening cock.

The confessional was custom built, and given his height, two people could fit in. And what better use for it than having you inside with him. Trapped between his neverending legs.

"Would you know what to name a man's anatomy, pequeña?"

He removed the fabric belt around his waist to then unbutton the lower part of the cassock. Revealing a set of lighter pants, trapping his erection underneath.

Your eyes shamelessly remained on the happy trail leading to the growing bulge between his legs. Curiosity was definitely taking a choke hold on your brain. Although built big enough for two people average sized, you had to crawl closer between him.

"I believe it's called a... c-cock."

"A cock, yes." He nodded proudly, "And how would you know such thing, Hm?"

He beckoned you closer, holding your chin gently while at it.

"T-There's an anatomy book well hidden in the library. I don't wish to remain completely ignorant to my surroundings, Father."

"Ah, I see." He let the father calling go for this time, cause the surprise in your face was everything a man could get when about to perform one of the most lascivious of acts.

He took himself out, letting his erection to sprung in it's full glory before you.

"Does it looks like the one in the book?"

You shook your head softly. His flushed and engorged tip, twitched upon feeling your breath oh so close to his velvet skin.

"At all."

The rich fragrance of clean soap and woody incense remained in his skin.

"You're allowed to touch."

With a new gulp on your throat and hesitating hands, your fingertips grazed his tip. Earning a little hiss from him. Finally feeling other textures that wasn't his calloused hands.

Curiosity made you take him firmer around the base, his hands enveloped yours and guided you to stroke him, up and down.

Your cheeks flushed even deeper while watching his face contorting in pure bliss. It reminded you the way he looked at you as he was devouring your now tingling flesh.

"Does it feels good?"

He nodded through hazed eyes, urging you to move your hand faster with his own, setting a tortuous tempo.

"Oh, very. Very good." he nodded and panted breathlessly, nails clawing at the cushioned part of his seat.

"Then... why is a sin?"

As much as he wanted to quench your learning thirst and instruct you through it, he couldn't care less about what was a sin and what not. But he could satisfy said interest with a more practical example.

"Open your mouth." He talked as he took his hefty cock and beckoned impossibly closer.

Your clothed chest rested inches away from his inner thighs. Lips parted open and when his tip rubbed between your lips, your tongue moved on its own and swirled on his slit. Earning a shaky whimper from him.

"Dios..." His head was thrown back as you took his whole tip inside. The warmth your lush mouth offered couldn't be compared. His hips bucked and you groaned when another inch was pushed in.

"Keep going, pequeña." He husked as he slid a hand underneath your headdress and took a gentle hold of your nape. With enough pressure he guided you up and down pushing as much cock as he could into your mouth, withdrawing carefully whenever you gagged.

The soft saltine taste bursted all over your taste buds, singing in delight. You were tasting a man. The proper way. You hummed approvingly.

Once more he took himself by the base and slapped your awaiting tongue a couple of times with his tip before pushing in again.

His shaky groans turned into deep and raged pants the more your cheeks hollowed around him, licking and sucking in a pace that had him thrusting his hips softly and melting. His hands didn't know whether to claw or hold on whatever surface they had underneath.

The wet and sloshing noises from your mouth made him dizzy, and your hand squeezing his balls gently wasn't helping. Seeing your eyes filled with the same unmarred lust as his, corroded any rational and holy thought our of his frying brain.

You were dangerous. Oh, so dangerous he could mistake you for the very snake that temped Eve back in Eden, cause your tongue swirled and tasted in the right places like no other, despite being your first time.

And by God, he knew you weren't made for a holy life. You couldn't. He refused to believe you were made for such simple and boring life when you were sucking his demons out with such artistry, he couldn't feel but jealous at the sudden thought of someone else teaching you such things.

No woman had achieved such feat on him before by using solely her mouth.

"Sigue, por favor-" He gulped and bit his lip before a loud moan could escape him. His eyes tried to keep on front watching you, bobbing your head up and down. (Keep it going)

If your mouth was delicious, he couldn't help but wonder, how your insides felt.

Would you be drenched? Would you be tight for him? Would you take him as well as your mouth did? Of course you would. You were using your mouth only and left him yearning for more than that.

His teeth bared as his pants turned even more raged and blown. The soft kisses alternated between kitten kicks and unabashed lapping, bending not only his will, but the urge to hold you in place and have fun with your mouth.

The sight of you being bold and taking him in a go completely, made him explode with an acute, shaking and broken whimper.

"Mnnfuck-" He held you in place while he squeezed the very last drop of his hot cum down your throat. All while you looked at him with drunk, pleasurable eyes as you swallowed him.

His chest heaved and his hand rubbed over his face, awash with raw need. But you didn't stop there.

A low humming rumbled through, reverberating through his skin. Sending another wave of jolts down his spine. His head was spinning a second per hour

"W-Wait..." but you didn't listen, you kept tasting and his teeth clenched, "E-Esperate-" He blabbed and choked, his trembling hand took a firm hold of your headdress and pulled his limping cock out your mouth with a squelching pop.

But your tongue sought him, hungry and hypnotised by his taste.

"Stop- Oh Dios... S... Stop-" you whined as he hunched and rested his forehead against yours, putting his throbbing cock back to it's confinements. His breath fanned over your mouth and kissed you deeply. Drowning any furtive and remaining moans.

His tongue swirled over yours, luring it only for a mischievous suck to be delivered, tasting himself in the process.

"Please" You clung to him, body doused with fire, and his nose heaved deeply, still recovering from what you provoked within. His eyes remained shut for a second, to then seizing you with a tender look.

"Not yet, pequeña."

"Not yet. Then, when?!" You whined impatiently, "If you don't want me anymore just say it!"

He understood your frustration, he really did. With gentle hands he cupped your face.

"I do want you." He pecked your lips, "More than this pretty head of yours refuses to believe. But we must wait."

"I don't want to!" You sniffed and he kissed your head once again, soothing your frustration with feathery kisses. Then he stood and picked you up easily in his arms to finally sit you on his chair.

"If I am to claim you, is cause I'm taking my time to destroy every bit of your mind, understand?"

His hands immediately stirred up the skirt of your habit up to your waist, proving your words true of you wearing less layers, leaving your thighs and cunt bare to him as they were parted and placed on each side of the chair's arms.

With a serpent-like motion, he swept his tongue over his lips, awash with prurience when his gaze remained in your drenched entrance. Drooling and glistening, begging to be taken.

There was something he couldn't truly explain when he had you like that. It played too many good tricks in his dazed mind.

As much as he wanted to bury himself to the hilt, he couldn't. He didn't want you to be marked by a whip and shunned before the whole church as a heathen.

He didn't want you to bear with Cain's mark and be despised by the whole community just cause you gave into a natural need.

Two of his fingers coated in your slick, to then rub ever gently at your needy and throbbing nub of nerves. Gaining him a soft coo.

"I need to take my time to posses every bit of you, dear."

Your mouth gaped and whimpered as he slid inside with a sloshing fwop. Walls immediately etched to his fingers, squeezing him and urging to go deeper.

"You think I don't want to take you right here? " He kissed your lips and then your jaw

His thumb rubbed in slow but firm strokes, applying enough pressure to have you a blabbing mess and tidal waves of pleasure quenching your body's primal need.

His fingers hooking and wriggling inside only earned him a renewed groan. Your hands clutched at the surface behind you, as his fingers delved deeper, meaner and faster. Your frame shook with every stroke he delivered in your weeping walls.

He had to cover your mouth at the lewdness spilling out nonstop of it, to focus on the increasing wetness he provoked in your slurping hole.

A shaky whimper was muffled the more he pumped his fingers into you, grazing that sweet and exquisite spot that got your body trembling and your walls contracting around him in a wicked and debauched symphony. Your head was thrown back, too heavy with lascivious thoughts to function properly.

Mouth parted to whine and eyes remained shut, unable to digest the obscene display of prowess by his fingers. Your tightness increased by every second, signaling your need for release.

"Come"

An order. Disobeying was out of the question. A specific thrust had your spine arching and your soaked hole exploding with something so devastatingly delicious, it had you panting and mewling in heat as you drenched Miguel's hand and forearm completely, he kept prodding and poking at that gummy spot within you. Your nails clawed at the seat, trying to anchor your floating soul to your body.

"Oh my God!" You hiccuped in a garbled moan.

His palm kept your stuttering hips under control, his eyes remained at the spasming muscles within you, trying to keep his fingers inside, sucking, squeezing and milking him.

"Tan perfecta." He crooned while pulling out gently to lick and slurp his fingers clean and kiss you with all his might . (So perfect)

Too enraptured in your taste to hear the approaching steps until too late.

"Father O'Hara?"

The voice from the other side of the wall made both to freeze in place. Your eyes went wide and his grip on your panting mouth tightened.

"Are you there?"

Miguel placed a drenched finger in his lips.

Closing your eyes shut, you both awaited for whoever that had arrived to leave, and once the steps could no longer be heard, he released you.

And you gasped and panted for air and he smirked. Admiring with wickedness at his creation. He could already taste your little cries and whimpers for more of him. And damn him if he was lying if his mind didn't come up with the vilest of fantasies, like defiling you in the altar, at everyone's sight, so they could know the real him and show everyone he had claimed you and what they were missing.

He helped you on your feet and wipe away the thin layer of sweat covering your face with utmost care.

But that side was reserved to none else but you. His beloved lamb.

"Soon, I promise. Okay?"

He kissed your lips deeply, sealing his words with a promise. He was a man of word.

You'd have to wait a bit longer.

----

The dull ache in your lower belly announced your period's arrival. Asking the head of the medical supplies and writing your name in a book was a subtle way to keep the youngsters and women in fertile age in check.

Given the few past experiences with nuns suddenly getting pregnant, security when it came to outings increased. Same for the Parish. Another guard was hired to keep the morning shift in case men came to lurk around.

The parish had a reputation to have beautiful nuns under the roof, even if older.

But since you had your period, no harm approached. You could see a little proud smile in Sister Danielle as you fetched your supplies for the week. Teas, pads, some painkillers and a brand new addition, moist towelettes from the city.

"If you run out of them, come again, alright?"

With a nod, you went to the bathroom and changed. You washed your hands and walked back to where Sister Leanne was, to tell her about your condition.

Cause in truth, you felt tired, pained and exhausted. Your face lit up upon seeing her.

"May we speak?"

"Not now. Discipline calls me."

Quirking a brow you looked at her while watching a trail of nuns behind her. One with a slender guava stick, another with a bucket in water, and the other with a rope.

"W-What's going on?"

"Come and see."

You weren't the only one that followed them. A group of nuns giggled, as they whispered hushed secrets to eachother.

Your fingers wrapped around your cross while following the rest, like a dutiful sheep.

To your surprise another nun was held as her sleeve was slit open, on both arms. The woman cried for mercy and soon she was pushed forward before the circle of nuns and Miguel that showed up alarmed.

"You have sinned!"

Sister Leanne begun with a commanding voice. even though Miguel was the Father, he had little to do with the nun's management.

Your mother figure pulled the crying woman's arm, showing a bruising a couple of inches away from her elbow.

"This woman has corrupted her body, the temple of Jesus Christ! With contraceptives!"

A collective round of gasps were heard through the nuns. Contraceptives, same as sex were the highest forms of faults within the Parish. Specially within the convent.

"Not only you poison your body with mundane pieces, but break your vows, just to obey your flesh's whims." Leanne spat with venom.

The poor woman was tied up against a post. Her habit was torn in the back, to expose her temporary unmarred, milky white skin. She begged for forgiveness as water was doused over her.

The first hit made you look away and cover your mouth, a sudden fear rose in the back of your throat.

His need of waiting was more than reasonable now.

This was one the motives why Miguel hadn't taken you yet. And seeing the poor woman writhe in pain and beg for her life, made you remind him of his words.

You had been so neck deep in wanting him that had forgotten completely about the consequences of your forbidden meetings.

The women's cries and pleas were muffled by the aggressive whistle the stick did everytime it swung to strike down and mark her over and over.

Your gaze locked with Miguel's briefly. His eyes said it all.

Now you understand?

As quickly as your eyes met him, you tore your gaze away. Too afraid of the possible lash out for simply looking at him.

A surge of cramps and the newly reached levels of stress had you folding over. His face fell upon the pain in yours. The supplies in your hands were self explanatory. Periods weren't something new to him, after all he took care of the women under his unit in the factory cause the rest was too stupid and scared to do something.

And as much as he wanted to approach and see if you were alright, he didn't want the situation to be mistaken for something else and draw unnecessary attention towards you both.

He felt a coward, but it also fueled his hate for the life he chose in order to save himself.

Once the punishment was finished, the woman was untied and taken to the infirmary. Sister Leanne looked at you

"What is you wanted to talk to me about?"

"My period."

"What about it?" Her voice accused with a frown, still on edge.

"I just asked Sister Danielle for my supplies." She heaved, relieved.

"Good. Good." She sighed and rubbed her face, "I want you to know that I'm not proud of the things I must do. But someone has to."

"I know."

"Please don't ever dare to betray me that way, okay?"

The stung in your chest just bloomed deeper with guiltiness.

What if I'm already doing it?

You nodded, gaining a hug from the woman that raised you, in order to ground herself from the sudden rage that took over her emotional panel of control.

Would you whip me too? Would you make me bleed?

"Go rest. I'll get you some food, alright?"

---

It had been days since either of you approached each other. The raw display of consequences of a failed secret affair was the culprit of the distance that grew wider and wider between the both.

It was a forceful reminder of what laid ahead if you ever got caught. Miguel knew how much the new Mother Superior loved you.

He always heard at dinner with the higher ranks the endless stories about you as a teenager. Precocious and daring. Nothing alike to the tame and demure woman he had already tasted twice.

Would she hate him for corrupting her little and perfect sheep? Absolutely. Maybe would whip him too if she could.

The thought alone made him chuckle.

The silence on both ends made him reflect in so many things he thought long forgotten.

A child's random laugh during a baptizing had brought to life that buried yearn. The way the little human stared at him with a toothless grin on their face sent his heart into a frenzy.

In fact, he always reminisced in the many families that paraded proudly on church. Displaying their affection, laughs and others that only echoed in the solitude of his residence outside the Parish.

There was none waiting for him, no little human screeching in happiness upon hid arrival, and no partner to share his daily adventures on his modest job. There wasn't nothing like that for him.

Just endless hours of praying, visiting the sick, bible studies, hypocritical speeches on how people act and behave with those around him and how to not succumb into the temptation, like he did.

He was the biggest hypocrite under the heavenly roof and everyone adored him. Congratulated and asked for tips on how to be more like him.

If he could, he'd say drink a beer every day and fuck a lovely woman whenever time allowed. But instead his mouth spilled the most ridiculous things such as keep your mind focused and away from trouble.

But he wanted trouble. He wanted that trouble to mewl and writhe underneath. He wanted that trouble to squeeze him to death as he came inside. And definitely he wanted that trouble to swell with his child.

Ten years in this lie had been more than enough for him. War had been long gone, everyone had moved on in the city. Mostly had families. But he...

His hand pinched the bridge of his nose.

Secularisation wasn't an option, since his name was already in many churches and abbeys and running away would imply to spend most of the savings he had done so far. Priest life paid shit, but if this neverending lie had taught him something, was to be more financially wise. And thanks to that, he could afford a home somewhere in the rural areas, away from prying eyes and judging glares.

He had enough of the white rectangle around his neck and the stupid golden ring on his finger dictating how to live his life. Even though God had granted him his wish of having a simple life, he didn't want it anymore.

He wanted it his way. And as entitled and selfish as the thought was, he deserved a forever break from his duties. He knew what he wanted.

He knew what he needed. And he needed you. He missed you. He wanted you to be his problem.

At first he thought it was the lack of contact and other people to talk to, but seeing you so scared back at the public whipping and your need to know more about the world, only reinforced his decision into making you his.

He could take you see places and explain things if you wanted. He could take you anywhere you wanted to. He could please you the times he saw fit without the fear of someone spying or you getting hurt by those that pledged a servitude oath.

Miguel knew what the nuns did to those that ended up pregnant and he wanted you safe. He had seen the underlying longing of knowledge in your eyes and see what was beyond those sacred walls.

Her period

His brain soared alive with the idea.

How many days had gone since you got it? Twelve days?

And if there was something he knew by heart is a woman's cycle. Ironically he used that knowledge to avoid getting his hookups pregnant, even if he used a condom. And now, he was using it for the opposite.

In two days you'd be ovulating. And you had returned early from a sudden trip due to sickness.

He didn't know if to thank God or his luck for such delicious coincidence.

But what if she decides to stay?

No. You wouldn't. You couldn't be so blind to do such thing. His plan was foolproof.

With the gears turning, he set his plan into motion.

----

Taglist:

@tango-juice @miaasmf @migueloharastruelove @slight-darkness @zombiesurf @oharasfilipinawife @thedevax @eepiebeepie @vsplanet @smartyren @m4dyy @keenspeachy @deputy-videogamer @the-colourfull-bean @killjoy-nightshadow @whos-writing-stuff @tomalymme @x0tw0d57 @huniedeux @ange-grayson @cubecube555 @riuichiii @plumplum2099

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #Heathens #priest au #priest miguel #Spotify

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chronicallycouchbound · 8 months

Text

I feel like people often don’t talk about the experiences of disabled people who have caretakers because so much of the conversation is about us—not including us.

I receive in home care for 30 hours a week (+ 4 hours/week for respite). This is paid for by Medicaid (state insurance). Outside of paid hours, my primary caretakers care for me unpaid and assist me most of the time. I’m very rarely left alone due to my high support needs. Often, when I am left alone, I am completely bedridden or at minimum housebound. I have frequent emergency life threatening health problems, falls, and serious injuries even with support in place, and these things significantly increase when I’m on my own.

I’m extremely lucky that my paid caretakers are my partner, my sister (the only family member I have regular contact with, I’m estranged from the rest of my immediate family and most of my extended family) and my best friend.

I used to have agency staffing which was horrible for me and borderline traumatic. At several points, before doing the self directed care option (which allows me to choose my own staff, hire and train them myself and dictate hours for them), I opted to not have any staffing. I was regularly in the emergency room. I can’t drive, so I was having to walk and if I was lucky enough to be able to take the bus on occasion or get a ride from a Facebook acquaintance, they were few and far in between. I don’t have family support, and even my sister who is supportive wasn’t living in the state at the time and doesn’t have a car most of the time.

And before I could even choose which staffing option, even though medically it had been deemed essential for me to have in home care, even though my insurance covered it, I had to wait several years (I was 18 when I was approved) until I was 21 to qualify to start. The reason why: I was legally an “adult disabled child” because of my high support needs (which is funny because I STILL don’t have SSI at age 24) and thus legally unable to consent to my own care plan. I needed a blood relative to consent, and that same blood relative (who had to have proof of such!) couldn’t care for me. At the time, my sister was the only person who could’ve been my caregiver and also she is the only verifiable blood relative I have contact with for safety reasons, and my only relative on this side of the USA.

The first business day after my 21st birthday I immediately got things set up to get in home care.

This is out of date, I get assistance with more than just these highlighted ADL (activities of daily living) tasks now.

In short: my day-to-day life is entirely dependent on others.

And there’s power imbalances that exist between me and my caregivers, even with my current caregivers being amazing and anti-ableist. They will always exist. We talk about the power dynamics of me being dependent on them for my survival, and how heavy that weight can be for each of us.

Having caregivers often means that accessibility is extra difficult— I’ve been told straight up multiple times that I can’t have assistance from my caregivers to help me change in a changing room when we’re out shopping. That they can’t go into the bathroom with me, that they can’t help me get un/dressed during appointments, that they can’t come into spaces with me.

I’ve been denied access to psychiatric care because I can’t do my daily living tasks (ADLs- the highlighted items) independently. And when I’m in a hospital or emergency room, I can’t have my in home workers be paid to care for me, there’s an expectation that the nursing staff at the hospital will do it. Even though my caregivers were specifically trained to learn my body and needs for weeks and have been working with me for years. I have severe cPTSD and showering in front of a stranger is something I cannot do. I would rather fall or faint or get injured or just not shower than deal with that. But I’m expected to just let anyone have access to my body just because I’m physically disabled and need support.

When I faint/fall/get injured/have life threatening health issues arise while I’m not clothed, or when I’m otherwise vulnerable, I’m supposed to let strangers just touch me however they want to. I have to show them my chest (for my cardiac care) and let them poke and examine me. I can’t object without losing access to vital care.

I have agency. I have rights. I have autonomy. I deserve to be able to exercise these things.

#chronically couchbound #disability #disabled #disabled pride #cripple punk #cripplepunk #disability pride #high support needs #ableism #professional caregiver #activities of daily living #ADL #medicaid #healthcare #in home care #home care #home care aids #nothing about us without us

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isatforpalestine · 25 days

Text

In Stars and Time for Palestine

Requests: Open! | Goal: $400/750

(To sign up to volunteer, please fill out this form or DM this account/@siffrin-enthusiast! Whichever is easiest for you!)

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free!

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We ask that receipts/proof of purchase be included with the request to help keep track of things.

To sign up as a volunteer, please fill out this form or DM this account and or @siffrin-enthusiast! Whatever works for you!

You will receive confirmation that your request has been received and when work has started.

You can ask for updates on your request, but please remember that artists are human and have busy lives.

Shipping requests and requests for multiple characters or specific poses are allowed, but may be less detailed and take longer than asking for a single character.

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If an artist asks for credit, you must give credit.

Please do not send donation requests in our asks as unfortunately this is a common way to scam donations.

Charities

Donations can be made to any of the following reputable charities:

Palestinian GoFundMe Masterpost, regularly updated

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Due to GoFundMe's giving money to Palestinians directly and immediately, donations to them are highly encouraged and requests made through GoFundMe donations will be given preferential treatment (assigned and completed first). Donations to charities are still of course open, encouraged, and accepted, but if possible please consider donating to a GoFundMe!

Prices

Prices have not been set in stone yet, as I'm waiting on feedback and sign-ups from other artists, but they're around here!

$1-9 = Sketch/doodle.

$10-14 = Lineart, uncolored.

$15-20 = Colored sketch.

$21-30 = Flat shading.

$31-44 = Detailed shading.

$45-59 = Rendering and a simple background free of charge.

$60+ = Rendering and a colorful background free of charge.

$99+ = Collab piece with multiple artists with the artist selection free of charge.

Additions to add on to the original price (unless it's included in the price, i.e., if you spent $45-59 you would not have to pay for a simple background). Please note that these will almost always increase the time it takes for your request to be completed.

$5 for a simple background.

$5 for another character sketch or uncolored lineart.

$10 for a detailed background.

$10 for very complex poses.

$15 for another character in flat shading or colored sketches, with $10 each for any additional characters.

$20 to select the artist of your request. Note that if they're busy with other requests, this will take longer than letting us choose.

$25 for another character in detailed shading and above, with $20 each for any additional characters.

$30 for another character with rendering, with $25 each for any additional characters.

Artists

Meet our volunteer artists!!

@outeremissary can make doodles, uncolored linearts and colored sketches!

@pied-piper-pluto can do everything on the list, from doodles to rendering with complex poses, multiple characters, and colorful backgrounds! he can do digital or traditional medium, or watercolor for large donations!

@siffrin-enthusiast can draw sketches, doodles, flat/detailed shading or take other requests/make edits, but doesn't know how to render. i'll give it an honest shot if you want though!

@moopermoment can do everything except detailed shading, rendering, and complex poses!

@kadethecat does sketches to flat shading and enjoys collab pieces!

@benjibots can do sketches as well as flat shading!

@kensiesss who can do anything except for complex poses!

@forgetful-storyteller can make anything from sketches to rendering with a simple background, but might take a bit to finish complicated pieces due to a busy schedule!

@tekabecca114 can do b/w comic panel style images!

@agriocnemis does everything on the list!!

@novelist-on-strike can make simple custom logos/graphics!

@mnemonicmew does everything except for collab pieces and colorful rendered backgrounds!

(To sign up to volunteer, please fill out this form or DM this account/@siffrin-enthusiast!)

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We do not handle any of the money donated to ensure that 100% goes to Palestine as soon as it physically can. Please blur out any and all personal information in your screenshots while submitting your receipts.

#free palestine #in stars and time #in stars and time for palestine #isat

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pandoraslxna · 8 months

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ohh my!! \(°o°:)/ I loved "sharing is caring"! , I was wondering if u could do more spider smut, please!!(no rush tho! <3)

The Na‘vi way

adult Spider x female recom reader

Words: 2.7k

Summary: To walk, eat, talk and even think like a Na‘vi, that was one thing. But to dress like one? That was a whole new level of commitment just to get this job done.

Warnings: explicit smut, just a small size difference, oral (f receiving), masturbating, fingering, praise kink, teasing, sexual tension, semi-public, hair pulling, tail pulling, Spider is a smug little bastard

Notes: I just realized that I completely forgot about Spiders mask so let’s just pretend he can breathe just fine without it… 🤦🏻‍♀️ Anyways, as you can see I‘m still not that confident in my ability to write for Spider and it somehow feels like he’s not as characteristically accurate as Id like him to be, but I still hope you guys will enjoy this! Let me know what you think pls I’d love to improve my spidey writing skills lmao 🥴

"This is ridiculous…", you mumbled as you peered down on yourself.

To walk, eat, talk and even think like a Na‘vi, that was one thing. To be fair, it was an easier said than done task for your squad. But to dress like one? This was a whole new level of commitment just to get this job done!

Spider thought it was amusing, watching the recoms get used to wearing loincloths and such, all in order to put themselves into their enemies position. That was, until it was your turn to get dressed. Or, well, get undressed.

Spider couldn’t help but stare at you for a good while, now wearing a loincloth and also a skimpy woven top that barely covered more than a few inches of skin. You were seemingly having a hard time getting comfortable with your new clothes, as you were trying your absolute most to hide yourself with your arms crossed over your chest.

He was used to seeing omatikaya women in less coverings than that, but still. There was just something about you showing that much amount of bare skin that had him feeling a little dizzy.

Snapping out of his thoughts before you could even realize that he was ogling at you, Spider cleared his throat, "It’s not ridiculous. Now you actually look like true Na‘vi."

"Lookin' good, buttercup", comes from beside you both, with a snickering laugh that made your cheeks light up bright red. "Fuck off, Wainfleet", you grumbled, "Let’s just get this over with…"

The idea was, to spend an entire day learning how to hunt, with nothing more than a bow and arrows, while also being dressed like a bunch of wannabe Na‘vi. Truth be told, Spider didn’t know if that would actually help them dealing with Jake, but it wasn’t like he was ever planning on actually helping them and betray his (more or less) adoptive family. After all, he was nothing more than a prisoner of war and maybe that was his payback for the way they had treated him so far. Couldn’t hurt to make a little fun out of a group of recoms that had no idea what they were even doing out here, right?

For someone who wasn’t even used to handling guns and such, you did pretty well with a bow.

As far as Quaritch had introduced his squad to him, Spider knew that you were some sort of combat medic, usually just jumping around to treat injuries and make sure nobody dies under your watch. You worked with the military, but you weren’t a soldier. You were also around an head or two smaller than the other woman, Zdinarsk or whatever her name was, which was a nice change, because for once Spider didn’t need to crane his neck entirely to talk to someone. You were pretty much eye level with him, in more than just one way. Compared to the others, you were friendly and kind, and at least you tried to be thoughtful of the environment out here.

When the eclipse neared, the recoms began to set up a small camp in the forest to rest for the night, finally done with todays 'lessons'. There was a river gurgling by and when the Colonel gave permission, you separated from the others to get washed up and redress.

"Oh, no. No. That’s not happening", Spider shakes his head at Lyle who was currently about to set up a small campfire. "What now, pinky?", the recom barks at him, haltering all movements to look at the human with painted on stripes.

"No fire in the forest, bro. That’s an unspoken rule. You’re gonna get us killed if—", Spider tried to warn him, but was cut off short, by the sound of someone calling his name in the distance. Turning to it’s direction and then back to Weinfleet, he points a warning finger at him and says, "no fire", before he’s off to whom had called him.

A little further away, down at the river, he finds you. Your brows are furrowed in what seems to be concentration and frustration at the same time. As he steps closer, he spots the source of your distress.

"Spider, oh thank god. Could you help me with this, please", you grumble, your hands busy fumbling with the tangled cords of your loincloth. "I can’t get this shit off…" The blonde can’t help but laugh when you groan in frustration.

"You have to untie it like this. No, no like—", he tries to verbally guide you, but you seemingly make things worse with the way you impatiently pull at each tiny knot, the strings now tangled between your legs and over your hips. It’s a mess.

"Here, let me help you", Spider then sighs and lowers himself onto one knee before you.

Normally, the woven cords that hold the cloth covering your crotch in place are supposed to be wrapped around your tail. Thanks to whatever you did, or tried to do here, they were now wrapped and tangled around one of your thighs.

"Open your legs a little", he tells you and you do as your told, making room so he could untangle you from this mess. One of his hands is firm on your thigh and you try to ignore the warmth of his palm and the way he unintentionally squeezes the soft of you flesh, while his other hand flips your loincloth up. "Hold this", Spider doesn’t wait for you to respond, already shoving the piece of fabric into your hands to hold it up and out of the way.

He’s entirely too close like this, you think.

You could feel his breath fan over your skin, his thumb on the inside of your thigh, while his other hand reached back and forth between your legs, slowly untangling you.

You had to admit, it’s been a while since the last time someone came this close to you, which made the whole situation so much… worse. Adverting your gaze from the man crouching in front of you, you tried to think of anything else than his hands so incredibly close to your private parts and the way it made you feel so on edge, that you had to concentrate on your breathing.

Meanwhile, Spider attempted to find something to focus on other than the textured rope holding the two halves of your loincloth together. It rode low. Pinching the flesh over your hipbones, like it was squeezing, teasing. There was also his hand, both of them entirely too close to your—

Glancing up, he found your eyebrows scrunched together as if you were concentrating very hard. You looked up at the sky and your chest raised and fell in deep breaths, seemingly trying to calm yourself.

You couldn’t have been more obvious if you tried.

With a hand still firm on your thigh, Spider gently squeezes the soft flesh to test the waters. A smug grin spreads on his face when you don’t immediately tell him to stop, your eyes still glued to anywhere but him. He knows it’s risky, knows it’s probably not the best idea, but he can’t help himself. His hand moves a little higher, until his thumb is barely an inch away from the thin cloth covering your sex. He traces the outline of your cunt, just a teasing touch that, if your senses weren’t on high alert already, you wouldn’t even have noticed.

A small gasp escapes you, when he adds a little more pressure on his thumb, but you still don’t tell him to stop. You only shift your stance slightly, your hands still holding the front of your loincloth in a tight grip. A task for which you were grateful for, otherwise you wouldn’t even know what to do with your hands.

Spider gently brushes his digit over the thin covering between your legs, feeling the delicate outline of your clit, until a small wet patch formed right there. A mouth watering sight. He watches intensely, how you let your head fall back, how you squeeze your eyes shut and a deep blush spreads on your blue cheeks that made them look a little purplish. He had to admit, you were adorable like this.

Dutiful to his task, he then pulls his hand away in order to untie the final string, and your loincloth slowly falls off of you.

"There, all done", the blonde says softly, smiling up at you. A beat passes in silence, with just the two of you looking at each other, and Spiders hands still firm on your thigh. Your lips are parted slightly, as if you were trying to say something, but your voice was nowhere to be found. His thumb rubs gentle circles over the soft blue skin of your inner thigh, and you exhale a shaky breath. The blush on your cheeks deepens, when his gaze falls to the glistening folds of your cunt, right in front of his face, and then back up at you.

"Can I?", he asks, to which you nod and whisper a breathless, "please."

It’s all he needs to hear to return his hand between your thighs, index finger swiping through your folds to locate your clit. His fingertip circles the tiny nub gently, while he pays close attention to the buckle of your knees when he touches it just right. Arousal begins to heat up your blood as he slides his digits from your clit to your entrance. Your breath hitches.

"You’re so wet", Spider murmurs, grinning, "Did you enjoy walking around like that today?"

"Shut up…", you whisper, although it sounds more like a whimper to him. With a chuckle, he continues his teasing touches, running a hand up and down your thigh while the other smears your slick back and forth.

His fingertips are featherlight as they tease the little nub of pleasure, drawing circles around it before he slides them back and dips them into you– just an inch, and your legs tremble. There’s a sound coming from deep within your chest as he repeats the same motion again, and it almost sounds like—

"Are you purring?", Spider snickers, "Fuck, that’s so cute." Before you can talk back however, his face inches closer and then his tongue darts out to give a kitten lick to your clit. Instantly, your hands fist into his locks to anchor yourself. A breathless moan slips past your lips once he flattens his tongue against you, groaning at the taste.

"Spider, the– the others…", you swallow thickly, trying to collect your rapid breathing, "they’re going to hear!"

"Hmh", he hums in agreement, glancing up to give you a teasing wink. "Guess you‘ll have to be more quiet then."

His mouth his back on you in a heartbeat, lips closing around your clit and then he sucks and your eyes flutter close in bliss. You have to bite down on your bottom lip, hard, in order to stay quiet, but it only gets worse when he finally inserts a finger into you.

"Oh, holy shit", you moan, quickly clasping a hand over your mouth.

Then, he wriggles a second finger in beside the first one, and starts to ease them out together, then back in, a slow, slick push. You squirm, high pitched moans falling from your lips, muffled against your palm, and then a choked and breathless noise as Spider settles into a slow rhythm, pushing in deep and curving to brush something inside you that has you clenching greedily around the digits.

Meanwhile his tongue continues to lap at your clit, rolling it over every inch of the wet, warm muscle before closing his lips around it again. He sucks, kisses and slurps and it’s so obscene, you can barely look.

It feels so good every time he curves his fingers into you, hooking and pressing at that special spot, that you don’t even realize how hard you had been pulling on his hair. But Spider doesn’t seem to mind. If anything, he’s groaning into you like he enjoys this more than you do.

Your mind felt fuzzy, clouded with the squelching sounds he expertly worked out of your pussy until you were gasping and panting for air.

"S-Spider I‘m– wait, I‘m close, I’m gonna come", you half whisper, half whine, tugging his hair to make him stop for a second to look up at you.

His pupils are almost completely blown as his gaze meets yours, the bottom half of his face glistening in your slick and that smug little bastard has the nerve to smirk like a cat that got the cream.

"And?", he raises a brow, almost making a show out of licking his lips clean.

"You didn’t, I mean… you still haven’t–"

"That’s why you’re making me stop?", he chuckles like he can’t believe it, but then his eyes flash like an idea pops up in his mind.

The hand that had been resting on your thigh moves, slides down your leg before it finds the waistband of his own loincloth. With half lidded eyes you watch him pull his cock out, hard and leaking pre-cum in rich droplets that ooze from the slit of his tip, and you catch yourself swallowing at the sight.

Spiders hand closes tight around his shaft, giving himself a slow tug that makes him moan softly, and then his mouth is back on you. He’s stroking himself now, to the rhythm of his fingers that are pumping in and out of you. The low groans coming from him vibrates against your clit and you throw your head back at the pleasurable feeling.

He’s incredibly skilled with his mouth, you realize, aiming just right with the pointy tip of his tongue as he swipes over your clit in fast, tight circles. With the way he simultaneously scissors you open, it’s no surprise how quickly he can get you close again.

"F-Fuck, oh fucking hell", you moan in a whisper, "So good, feels so good! Oh– my god!"

Spiders cock throbs in his fist at the sound of your praise and he strokes himself faster, harder, teasing the slit with his thumb, imagining it’s your tongue instead. His eyes are shut and his brows are knit together in concentration as he makes out with your clit, feeling it twitch on his tongue and your walls spams around his digits.

He’s full on groaning, grinding his face between your thighs as he feels his own orgasm approach, he just needs a little more, just—

"C’mon, pretty. Come for me", he muffles almost desperately against you, fingers curling against your sweet spot at just the right angle and then you tug on his hair to get his lips back to your clit and that’s all it takes. With a hand clasped tight over your mouth to muffle your screams of pleasure, coming undone on his tongue, clamping down on his fingers and sending him clean over the edge with you.

Hips raising and pushing up into his fist, Spider comes with a choked off groan, sucking on your clit so hard it felt like you were going to collapse if he didn’t let up anytime soon.

"O-Okay, okay, fuck– Spider, s-stop", you half giggle, half moan, before he finally withdraws from between your thighs with a last kiss that makes your hips buck into it.

"Holy shit, where did you learn that?", you laugh breathlessly, genuinely impressed, as you watch him rearrange his loincloth and straighten back up.

But Spider just shrugs sheepishly and grins, "Well… it’s hard being the only one of the very few humans in the village. I had to find some way to impress, you know?"

"Hmh, I see", you giggle, nodding along. There’s a moment of comfortable silence that follows, and as you bend down to pick up your clothes. But then a warm hand settles on your hips.

A smiles tugs on your lips.

"I could show you what else I’ve learned", Spider murmurs, tilting his head to meet your eyes over your shoulder. You glance back at him, watching as he steps closer until his crotch makes contact with the curve of your ass. "Could show you the real Na’vi way." He smirks, then adds, "If you want."

His fingertips trace the arch of your spine until he reaches the base of your tail, where he closes his hand around it and tugs, firm but gentle. But it’s enough to send a full on body shiver through you, and your eyes widen in surprise as you feel a familiar tingle between your thighs.

Well. That’s new.

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moon-rivr · 4 months

Note

I need a fic about Miguel lusting after nurse fem!reader! I imagine he got hurt around her apartment and being that he is Spider-Man and she is a nurse she decides to take him into her apartment and fix him up. She is so caring and kind to he and this starts to become a thing where spider-man gets her to heal him.

So Miguel never reveals his identity to her but he’s like falling hard for her. Like thinking about her all the time (especially when he is in the shower lol). Let’s say one day he’s feeling like a little under the weather so he decides to go to where she works to get a check up and medicine (and hopefully to see her outside of his costume for once) so when he finally sees her he’s trying to charm her flirt a bit like he does when he’s behind the mask, but she is not having it. She acts cold and disinterested because one, guys flirt with nurses all the time and two, she has feelings for spider-man. Then you can do what you want with the ending but I would like if they get together in the end maybe you can squeeze some NSFW in there. Honestly this might make a pretty cute series!

little nurse

pairing: miguel o’hara x nurse fem reader

contents: mentions of blood/injuries and masturbation (m)

author’s note: decided to split this up into two parts, i hope you don’t mind :) very limited medical knowledge btw (one szn of grey’s anatomy and dr mike accounting for that 😖)

word count: 4.1K

Miguel O'Hara appeared in your life out of thin air. Literally.

You were trudging home from work around eleven at night, your scrubs smelling like disinfectant and dark circles adorning your under eyes. You'd been looking forward to taking a shower and getting as much sleep as you could before your next shift, your plans completely shifting when someone dropped in front of you. A masked man landed in front of you, clad in a Spider-Man costume. The sleep that you were longing for quickly faded away, replaced by a feeling of concern as you kneeled over to see if he had fractured his spine or his head with the fall. "How many fingers am I holding up?" You asked, holding up three as you waited for some kind of assurance that he was awake.

After receiving no response from the man, you dragged him into your apartment to work on him inside. You were grateful to whatever entity there was above that you lived in a downstairs apartment, the task of taking the man inside proving more difficult than you'd originally thought. You let out a small huff as you dragged him onto the rug in the center of your living room, shutting the door afterwards. You looked down at the man, almost tempted to take off the mask and reveal who was underneath the Spider-Man mask. After more careful consideration, you decided that it probably wasn't the best idea while he was in such a vulnerable position and grabbed your phone from your purse.

You'd gotten some old blouses that you were planning on throwing away, using them as a tourniquet around his stomach to stop the bleeding. You pressed two fingers to his neck to try to feel for a pulse, a bit slow but at a steady rhythm. After making sure his heartbeat was stable, you pressed your head down to your chest to listen for his breathing, the sound coming out ragged. "Stay with me, please," you silently whispered as your bloody fingers typed away at your phone screen, opening up the phone app. You'd finished up typing up the final one of the emergency number, a large gloved hand stopping you from answering the dispatcher on the other line.

"No, no. Please don't do that," the masked man underneath you pleaded as he slowly started to regain consciousness. You were made aware that not only would he run the risk of getting his identity exposed, but he'd also run the risk of having the nypd arrest him for the crimes he's committed as a vigilante. "Now do you understand why I can't go to the hospital?" He asked, almost like he wanted to make sure what stood at stake for him. "Okay, I'll trust you for now. But if you start bleeding out in my living room, then I'll take you to the hospital. Does that sound good?" You answered reluctantly, watching as he nodded.

You grabbed some gloves from one of your kitchen drawers, kneeling down next to him as you reached for the zipper on the back. "Do you mind if I take this off?" You asked, wanting to get his approval before you got started on anything. "Whatever you need to do to me, doc," he answered, sitting a bit up so you could reach the zipper better. You zipped down his suit, pulling it off his arms and sliding it down to his stomach. "How's your head? You hit it pretty hard when you fell," you asked him, wanting to get a better assessment of how his health was. You felt around his stomach, trying to find if there was any internal bleeding but you knew that the results would be more accurate with a CT scan.

"My head's fine, just a bit of blindness in my right eye," he deadpanned, your eyebrows practically shooting up to your hairline as you turned to look at him. "I'm joking, doc. I'm all good," he added, a small chuckle following after. "I'd smack you if your ribs weren't probably broken right now," you muttered, getting up from the floor to grab a suture kit from your bedroom. Only the sounds of his breathing could be heard as you worked on the large gashes covering most of his abdominal region, steady fingers working the needle through the thread to stop any further bleeding. You wiped away at some of the dried blood, cleaning him up to the best of your ability before pressing your hands down on his stomach to see if he had any further pain.

"I don't have any strong meds at my house, I only have Tylenol so I hope that works for you," you announced as you looked over at your medicine cabinet, surprisingly empty for the line of work that you'd chosen. "Give me the prognosis, doc. How long do I have to live?" he asked as you handed him the bottle of pills with a glass of a water. "I'm not a doctor, just a nurse. And I'd say a couple more minutes, if you're lucky. Might last longer if you don't annoy me as much," you teased him back, grabbing a couple bandages to finish up with the job. You wrapped them around the places where you placed the stitches, making him a little first aid kit just in case he'd need it. "If your stitches pop out or anything, just come back here. You know where I live."

He pulled the zipper back on, grabbing the first aid kit from you before he headed towards the door. "I'll see you next time I get hurt, little nurse," he told you, making it seem more like a promise than a goodbye. "Try not to make this a daily thing, please," you responded before he had the chance to leave, the eyes of his mask slightly raising. "I can't make any promises, lindura," he swung away after he finished speaking, sticking to the building in front of your apartment complex. You couldn't help but look out at him as he left, watching the way that he maneuvered the webs to the best of his ability despite the injuries that he'd sustained.

Miguel continued to seek you out as his nurse every time that he got hurt after that, enjoying the small banter and jokes between the two of you. Getting to be around you once more felt like the highlight of every fight that he got into, the assurance that you would be there to patch him up giving him the motivation that he needed to get up and fight crime. Despite the small jabs that you took at him, you proved to care about him time and time again with each wound that you treated. You never asked him any questions about his identity, never made him out to be anything bigger than what he had to be. Despite the fact that he wore the mask around you, he'd never felt more exposed around a human being in his life before.

Miguel found himself to be distracted by the thought of just seeing you again, constantly. He found himself wanting to get hurt just so he'd have an excuse to need your assistance, to have your soft hands running across his flesh as you stitched him up. His attention wasn't diverted only when he was dressed up as Spider-Man, the affection that he held towards you following him all the way to the lab he worked at. He'd mixed up two chemicals that he shouldn't have, causing a negative reaction in one of the rats that he was testing on and having to discard his experiment completely. "Focus, O'Hara. We're not here to pick up after your messes," his co-worker and superior, Aaron Delgato, told him during lunchtime with that same stupid smug expression he always carried on his face.

Normally, Miguel would've had something to respond back with but he couldn't find it in him to care that much at the moment. "Yeah, yeah," he ended up muttering back, pushing away his concerns as he sipped at the bitter coffee from the cafeteria. Normally the bitter taste of the coffee would've made him spit out the substance, the taste becoming slightly better when you were at the forefront of his mind. Instead of throwing it away after the first sip, he ended up taking a couple more sips before throwing it away in the sink. He spent the day at work focusing on his reports, having to stay a bit later to make up for the work that he'd messed up earlier just so he wouldn't have to deal with Aaron's condescending comments and stupid smirk as he questioned Miguel's ability to work the job he did.

He got home at around 6:30, two hours after his shift ended. The sound of door closing echoed throughout the empty halls of his home, the environment completely devoid of anything homely apart from a couple pictures and a bookshelf full of scientific journals that he'd enjoyed. He stripped away from his clothes once he got into his bedroom, wanting to remove himself from the lab as much as possible. He got into the shower before he had to head out for his vigilante duties, knowing that he knew would be too tired to do so when he got back home. The cold stream of water hit his muscles as he stood underneath, putting his forehead against the cold tiles of the wall. He felt depraved as he thought about you while he stood here, feeling himself grow more and more ashamed as he resisted the urge to wrap his hand around his cock.

Eventually, he ended up giving into his desires and wrapped his fingers tightly around his cock. He closed his eyes to help him envision a scenario with you, his mind running through with images of you underneath him. His grip on his cock tightened, wanting to replicate the feeling of what your cunt would feel like. He smeared some of the precum leaking out of his tip all around his shaft with his thumb, letting out a small hiss as he felt himself growing more aroused with every second that passed. He started off slow, wanting to prolong this orgasm as much as possible.

He pictured you starting off by sticking your tongue out for him as you sat on your knees underneath him, doe eyes looking at him expectantly as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. Your mouth would engulf around the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around it to capture every drop of precum that leaked out. His thumb ran around his tip to simulate every aspect of his scenario, precum sticking to his fingers as he did. He couldn't help but think about how beautiful you would look as you struggled to adjust to the feeling of his cock around your mouth, tears threatening to leak through as you fought off the urge to gag. "Oh shock, keep going," he moaned out, almost feeling like you were in the room with him.

His hand moved faster around his cock, fingers wrapped tightly around his shaft as he tried to get himself off. His eyes remained closed as the cold water ran through his body, his mind still continuing with the scenario from earlier. He felt his cock twitch in his hand, picturing how you would look with ropes of cum splattered onto your face. His release was more uneventful than he'd expected it to be, hit with the clarity of the situation immediately as the water washed the sticky substance from his hands. His forehead remained pressed against the shower wall, wanting to eliminate every negative thought that he'd been presented with. He felt perverted for taking advantage of you in this way, of taking advantage of the way that you were just so ready to help him out, but he couldn't help but feel his desire for you grow even more with every smile that you gave him.

He got out of the shower a couple minutes later, taking a few moments to reflect on what he'd done before finishing up with the rest of his shower routine. "Did you finish making the final adjustments to my suit?" He asked as his hologram assistant appeared next to him, a towel wrapped around his waist as he walked to the closet. "I did. You should find the material to be a bit more durable than the one that you previously used. Though the news reports show that it's going to be close to freezing so I would recommend for you to stay home," LYLA responded, before giving him the detailed report of what she'd done to his suit. "Crime doesn't stop just because it's a little cold. I'm sure I'll be fine," he muttered, grabbing the suit hanging up on the back of his closet.

Miguel shivered as he sat on top of a rooftop, overlooking the city as he waited for something to happen. He would have to make a mental note to add some insulation to the redesign of his suit, finding every minute outside to be excruciating. He removed the bottom part of his mask, blowing onto his bare hands as he rubbed them together. His feet swung on the edge of the building, ears perked up as he tried to listen in on conversations to discern whether anybody actually needed his help tonight. He was about to leave for the night around 30 minutes later, his plans getting stopped when he heard a lady scream across the street.

Miguel handed the purse back to the lady who was getting robbed, fighting the thugs that had tried to rob her proving to be the most exciting thing that happened all night. "Thank you Spider-Man!" The woman called out as he swung away, receiving a curt nod in response before he swung away. He ended up having to fight a couple low-grade robbers and car-jackers, nothing too big for the night. He got back home after finishing up the mundane tasks, feeling himself shivering even as he was welcomed by the warmth of the fireplace in his living room. LYLA had already started with her remarks about how he probably ended doing himself more harm than good, getting shut off two minutes into her monologue. He stripped off his clothing, sitting down on his couch with his legs spread out as he tried to warm up.

Miguel let out a groggy moan as he got up to the sound of his alarm, rubbing his hand across his temples as he laid on the couch. He could hardly get up to go to the bathroom, finding himself unable to head into work today. "I need to call in sick today," Miguel mumbled into the phone, knowing that Aaron was probably rejoicing at his weakened state. "You already messed up the experiment and now you want to take the day off? You're really slacking here, O’Hara," aaron remarked with a small 'tsk', speaking just loud enough for anyone to be able to overhear their conversation. "I don’t see why I have to explain myself to you but I'm sick. The experiment's gonna end even more messed up if I do end up showing up," Miguel answered, a small cough coming out of his end almost on cue.

After getting the reluctant approval of Aaron to stay home, miguel made his way to his bedroom and snuggled underneath his blanket. "LYLA, set up an appointment for me tomorrow at the medical center downtown please," he asked his ai assistant, his words coming out raspy and hoarse. "Why would you want me to do that? I can give you a full health assessment and recommend the right types of medicine that you need, Way better than a doctor ever could," she responded, appearing next to him with a face mask and little nurse hat on. "If I wanted you to do that, I would've asked. Just set me the appointment please," he mumbled, reaching over on his bed stand to get a tissue. LYLA was about to protest once more, but decided to go ahead and do the task when she heard Miguel coughing once more.

Miguel spent most of the day in bed, sweating underneath his tiger blanket despite the fact that he felt himself shivering. He found out the hard way that Vaporub did not in fact cure every one of his aches, though his nose wasn't too stuffed up after using it. He got up around 6 pm when he felt his stomach grumble, walking over to the kitchen to make himself something to eat. He turned on the afternoon news, wanting to make sure there wasn't anything too bad threatening the city. He saw that there had been a couple reports of robberies around the city, leaving it up to the police since he wasn't sure how useful he would be with his nose running every minute. He turned off the tv and poured the chicken soup that had been brewing on the oven into plate, sitting down at the dinner table to have something to eat. All he could do for now was simply wait for what the doctor would prescribe him, a part of him hoping that he would be able to see you.

"Miguel O'Hara?" You called out, looking around the sickly people in the waiting room before a tall man stood up. "That's me," he responded, his sinuses clearly stuffed up as he spoke. You led him back into the rooms, walking to the treatment rooms as you looked through the clipboard. "It's been a while since you've been here so i'm gonna go ahead and update your medical file," you informed him, looking back at him as he nodded. You led him to a wall with a measure taped on it, grabbing a pen from one of the pockets of your scrubs. You were about to take his height, noticing that his figure loomed over the measure. Your eyes widened slightly, your mind rubbing through what you could possibly do.

You grabbed an extra measure from a drawer, grabbing a chair nearby before getting up on it to tape it up on the wall. "You could've asked me to do that, y'know? I wouldn't have minded doing a favor for such a pretty nurse," he mused as he looked up at you, his lips immediately pursing together at the dirty look that you shot him. You got off from the chair, looking up at the two measures taped together before counting the extra inches. "Alright, 6'9," you muttered to yourself, writing it down on the clipboard before motioning for him to step on the electronic scale next to the side. You took his weight after the machine stopped counting, writing down the results before leading him to his assigned treatment room.

You washed your hands at the sink, putting on a bit of hand sanitizer before putting on a pair of gloves. "What seems to be the problem?" You asked, wanting to get a synopsis of what he thought was wrong before you made any guesses. "The problem is that you haven't accepted a dinner invitation with me. I'm sure my cold would heal a lot faster if you did, just saying. Trust me, I'm also a doctor," he mused, relishing as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. While you'd had your fair share of patients flirt with you, having to deal with their advances tested your patience bit by bit. The man in front of you wasn't exactly unattractive, but he didn't make you feel the same excitement that you felt every time that you saw Spider-Man. You folded your arms and looked at him, staying silent until he decided to divulge what had been bothering him.

"My nose's stuffed up, my chest feels like it's full of phloem, and I can't stop coughing up a lung," he responded, allowing you to get a glimpse of what was really bothering him. "It sounds like you just have a cold but I'll get your blood work done just to make sure that I get an accurate result," you told him, grabbing a small needle to prick him. Before he got the chance to tell you that the blood work wouldn't reveal much, you'd already collected the blood in a small tube. "The doctor will be right with you, Mr. O’Hara," he'd heard you say before the door closed, leaving him alone with the knowledge that you didn't feel the same way about him while he was unmasked.

The doctor came in and did what they were supposed to, taking his heartbeat and his temperature. "It seems like you just have a cold, Mr. O’Hara. Take some time to rest at home and don't overexert your body," the doctor had warned him, handing him a small paper with a prescription for what seemed to be cough syrup on it. He took the paper from the doctor, looking over at you with a small smile as you stepped into the room. The doctor handed the chart over to you, giving you a shortened explanation of what the diagnosis had been. You read over his chart, reaffirming what the doctor had already said before you dismissed him.

"I forgot to mention, your blood test came back inconclusive. I'm sure it was just the machine since it said it couldn't really identify you as fully human," you told him before he had the chance to leave, his figure looming over yours as he waited for you to finish speaking. "I hope you get your machine fixed soon. I'm sorry if i did something to damage it. By the way, are you certain that you don't want to say yes to that dinner I mentioned earlier?" He insisted with his previous offer, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he waited for your response. "I'm sure, thank you for the very kind offer," you reaffirmed, stepping out of the room once he'd walked out.

You headed to the back to talk with your friends, seeing Miguel at the hospital's pharmacy to get the cough syrup prescription filled. "I heard you rejected your patient's advances when he asked you out to dinner. This one's pretty cute and rich, so what happened?" Nurse Maya asked you, pretending to sift through some files just in case a doctor passed by. "Girl, you know she's obsessed over that Spider-Man guy. How's it been going treating him for free, anyways?" Your other friend, Nurse Valeria asked, looking up from her computer just to take note of your expression. You hated how easy the news travelled in the hospital, avoiding Miguel’s gaze as you turned to look at your two friends.

"It's been going decent, thank you. And there's nothing new to tell, Spider-Man hasn't been showing up to my house lately. I kinda have missing being his little nurse," you responded, watching as they both rolled your eyes. "Of course you had to go and fall in love with the masked psycho," Maya muttered before the three of you talked about something else. You couldn't help but laugh as Maya went through her recent dating dilemma, blissfully unaware to the fact that someone had been listening to your conversation while they were waiting for their prescription to be filled.

Miguel couldn't help the small smile that crossed his lips as he heard you speak about Spider-Man in the way that you did, speaking about his alter ego like a high school girl with a crush. "Mr. O'Hara?" The pharmacist behind the counter called out for what seemed to be the hundredth time, finally diverging his attention long enough from you to be able to do their job properly. "Thank you," Miguel mumbled awkwardly, the smile on his face quickly fading away as he paid for the cough syrup. He took a small spoonful of it in his car while he waited for the blue light to turn off, silently hoping that it would work and he could get back to fighting crime once more.

Though he felt a little discouraged at the way you'd shut him off with every flirting attempt that he made, he knew that at some level you had to feel some kind of attraction for him. His mind began coursing with different ideas of how to approach this situation, almost jealous of the way that you viewed his alternate ego. He started to wonder what it would be like if he was able to flirt with you the same way that he was able to as Spider-Man, what it would be like to have that confidence without the use of the mask. The way you spoke about him was almost endearing, the way that you described what it felt like to have Spider-Man come for your services and the way that you felt while you stitched him up. All that he knew is that he needed to come up with a solution about how to approach this crush for you and fast.

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five-thousand-loaves-of-bread · 10 months

Text

see more and more “entire life told/thought i high function but actually am just very high support need” (autism context) and get more and more annoy at that

everytime see everytime click into page and everytime realize by “very high support” (yes see multiple include the “very”) they mean comorbid anxiety depression cptsd trouble make friends because people think “weird” bullied lose speech need remind shower need remind things (but able do and if no remind after a while will do) trouble school trouble job etc am forget.

and all that hard struggle yes no deny. deserve all the help and am not say it easy.

but it not “very high support need.” not even “high support need.” have higher need than what nondisabled neurotypical society expect you to is not “high support need.” yes, know many people do this because want validate self and past and trauma. but. not need be high support to be valid or to receive support. not need be high support for past trauma & past neglect & past not get support to be valid.

and. it water down definition of “high support need.” kick actual high support need out. us who extra vulnerable because need physical help most or all bADLs. need constant 24/7 supervision to be alive to not accidental harm self or die. need medical services for stuff people (include these people) take for granted, like just be able communicate, walk (yes many high support need autistic people struggle with that even without specific physical disability dx), feeding, etc. no awareness of self or other people or surroundings or danger. need 24/7 behavioral support. experience explosive emotions that even terrify self self no understand and cannot control behavior so destructive. many very high support, if not get support they literally die. not exaggerate. that how high of support they need.

(and even debate about whether should write this list. because. unless you high support yourself or experience these same amount yourself or close to someone who is or give care for them, very high chance you not get degree of symptom am talk about. plenty autistic struggle emotional regulation, for example. some struggle with severe intense lose control explosive behavior, include some level 1s. but unless you experience it self or read lot lot lot lot about & by people who do, found that average person include average autism community person not know what am mean by explosive emotion.)

it not “gatekeeping” or “call fake.” it me get frustrate at people misuse medical term that used describe extremely vulnerable population, who rely on other people to keep basic alive, many us have trouble or have limited language communication or have none at all, we need keep medical term describe us because many us cannot explain cannot list you our support need, either because long or private or make us feel awful or literal no communication/intellectual ability.

by validate self you harming us. “well it just one person identify themself not affect you [eye roll].” no, not just one person. but even if just one person, people around them see, and think, oh, that high support need, that very high support need, am educated. and that spread. and actual high support need people like am describe are ignored people don’t think they exist.

please. talk about own experience. no matter “there people more struggle than me.” am not say cannot. am not say “look at these actual struggles yours mild shut up.” it autism spectrum, there spectrum of experience. there more than “no support need” vs “high support need.” there things in middle. even low support need—that just mean low compare to other autistics. not “your support need your trauma not important.”

but please. remember us. leave our terms alone.

#actually autistic #actuallyautustic #high support need #loaf screm

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magics-neptunes-things · 3 months

Text

Shy Girl (2)

Hi guys!

This is the second part for Shy Girl, it was fun to write so I hope you will like it :)

It's longer that I thought tho. Sorry if there is some mistakes, Tumblr was a pain in my ass.

Enjoy!

TW : None

_____________________________________________________________

After the evening you met Alexia, you didn’t stay for long in Barcelona. You are engaged for a film on a rather large scale since you play in an American production and for one of the greatest current directors. You are always very careful to study the profiles of people offering you roles, preferring not to play in a promising film rather than finding yourself with someone crooked.

You talked about it at one point during your exchanges with Alexia and she confided in you about all that the Spanish team has experienced in recent years because of the Federation. But that’s just part of the different conversations you’ve had over the last couple of weeks. After talking a few times on Instagram, Alexia asked for your phone number and you continued by messages and sometimes FaceTime.

Sometimes you had to change countries, but you always managed to find a time to exchange news. You must admit that when a break is taking between two takes, you hurry to check your phone to see if you have not received a message from Alexia. Little do you know that she does the same in training, undergoing the teasing of her teammates.

********

Alexia 👑 Hey! When are you coming back to Barcelona again?

You I'm coming on Friday Why?

Alexia 👑 If I give you tickets, would you like to watch me play?

You Wait, you can play again?! 😱

Alexia 👑 Just had the go from the medical staff 😊

You Oh god I'm so happy for you 🤗 Of course I'll come, I'm happy you ask

Alexia 👑 I'm happy too. I'll send you all the information soon 💕

It's after this exchange of messages that you find yourself installed once again in the area reserved for families and VIPs, accompanied by your agent and definitely your best friend. Sofia puts her hand on your knee for the tenth time of the evening to prevent you from making it bounce in all directions. Alexia has informed you that she will not start the game, but will be in after the start of the second half.

Alexia is actually training since the return of the teams on the field and you feel the excitement running through the crowd as you see the captain treading the grass. However, it’s nothing against the clamor that resounds in the crowd when Alexia joins the rest of the team for the first time in many weeks. A big smile illuminates your face, similar to Alexia’s before she focuses on the game.

The match turn to Barca's advantage and you stay after the match when the players start their lap at the end of the game. You spotted Alexia’s mom and sister a few seats away from you but you didn’t have the courage to go and greet them. You didn’t agree on a program after the match, you didn’t want to impose yourself too much and you imagined that Alexia would prefer to celebrate her return to the field with her teammates.

You wink at her when she comes to greet her family and you were about to get up to leave the stadium when she beckons you to approach. You hesitate for a split second but your best friend gently pushes you in the back to join her, which you do timidly.

"Hi" smiled Alexia, placing her hand on yours, which is on the metal of the railing. "Can you wait for me to catch up? I'll be quick"

Your skin is hot where she's touching you and you have to use all of yourself to stay focus on the conversation you're having.

"Don’t you want to celebrate with your friends?" you ask while looking at her with your head tilted to the side.

"Maybe after" Alexia replies with some embarrassment that you have trouble understanding.

"Okay. I’ll wait for you then"

You smile and a big smile is displayed on Alexia’s face, who promises once again not to take long before joining you. So you return to the same lobby as a few days ago, accompanied by your agent and best friend. Like the other day, she goes to get you a glass of champagne and you sit on two stools at the back of the room.

You find yourself blushing stupidly when you cross the look of Eli Putellas and you hurry to half hide behind your best friend who rolls her eyes seeing you do.

True to her promise, Alexia quickly appears in the room, stopping once again at her family who kisses her and exchanges a few words with her. Your eyes meet several times during their exchange and you quickly understand at Alexia's sign of head that she wants to introduce you.

"Don’t forget to breathe, you’re going to pass out" Sofia teases you.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes, but your heart beats a little too fast when the three Putellas arrive at your height. You haven’t seen Alexia in person since you met her and with her wet hair and her bright smile, she’s even more stunning than you remember. However, you try to ignore this by listening to Alexia who make the introductions between you four.

After the greetings and exchanges of rigour, you learn in passing that Alba has seen all of your films, Alba and Eli must leave since they both work the next day.

"I’m glad you came" Alexia smiles after her family left and your best friend went to the bathroom.

"I’m glad I came" you assure her by smiling too.

You silently look at each other for a few seconds and you bite your lip, trying to hold her gaze.

"It’s weird to be in front of you after writing to you for two weeks" you finally confess timidly.

"It's weird for me too, but I'm really happy you came. It's mean a lot to me"

She takes your hand in her and when she sees your eyes going on your intertwined hands, she thinks that it's makes you uncomfortable. But when she try to take her hand back, you squeeze it, offering her a timid smile.

"Thanks for inviting me" you say, looking in her eyes.

She smiles and seems to relax, but Sofia come back at this moment and your hands are not longer in one other.

"So, what are you plan for the next days?" Alexia asks.

"I have some interviews while the film is being edited. After that I have to travel around to make the promotion of it, the film preview... And after all that I'm taking some holidays."

"Where are you going?"

"Barcelona probably" you smirk. "We have all we need here"

Alexia smirk back and keep talking with you for more time, until Mapi and some others girls come to look after Alexia. After greeting you, the blond talks to her friend.

"We're going to the restaurant Ale, you coming?"

"Do you want to come with us?" Alexia asks, turning for looking at you.

"I have to say no for her" Sofia intervenes "Early morning interview tomorrow"

You pout but Alexia smile while nodding, kissing your cheek before leaving.

"Well that went well" Sofia comments, smiling over her drink as you touch your cheek where Alexia's lips where seconds ago.

At the same time, Alexia was sighing before taking a last look at you above her shoulder.

"What is it?" Mapi asks her best friend.

"She's so beautiful. And cute. And sweet. I wish I could talk to her longer."

"So whipped already" Mapi scoffs, drawing a frown from her own girlfriend who asks her to leave Alexia alone.

********

Ale 💘 How the interviews went?

You It was great. A little bit tiring to have to answer always the same question but it was alright. How is your knee?

Ale 💘 It's fine, like nothing happened 😊

You Thanks God. I'm happy for you really

Ale 💘 Thanks 😊 Can’t believe I’ve only been back in the field for two weeks Also two weeks since I last saw you

You About that, I have something to ask you but maybe it's a little too much ��

Ale 💘 Tell me?

You As you know, we have the Preview for the film on Thursday in Barcelona

Ale 💘 Yes?

You I was wondering if you would like to come? And maybe being my +1? I know it can be weird because we don't really saw each other physically a lot, but I thought it could be fun to go there with you. We talked a lot already and I feel like I know you, at least a little bit. Don't feel any pressure anyway, I'll understand if you are busy with something else or if you don't want to come so don't worry It's too much isn't it? 😥 You don't have to answer

Ale 💘 🤣 I would love to go with you ❤️

********

You were happy, more than that actually, when Alexia says yes to you. But now you are a mess, looking at yourself in the mirror. You don't like your dress for tonight, you don't like your make up or the way your hair are. You always choose your clothes yourself, but tonight you feel like you only made bad choices.

You want to look great for Alexia, hopping that she doesn't regret to appear at your side for tonight. You warned her that there would be journalists and photographers, but it didn’t seem to bother her. You explained to her from beginning to end the way these evenings go, from A to Z, without omitting the slightest detail. You don't want Alexia to be uncomfortable or embarrassed at any time of the evening.

"You're beautiful" Sofia smiles when she entered the room.

You shrug, still looking at you before sighing. She's your friend, of course she will tell you something like this. Before you can answer anything, someone is knocking at the door again and you let Sofia open the door.

"Hola Alexia. Great to see you here" she smiles, before leaving the room.

Alexia’s presence electrifies you and you turn to face her. You let your eyes wrap around her appearance and you almost need to sit down. She’s amazing, obviously. Is there ever a time when that hasn’t been the case? When your eyes stop on her face, you realize that she is smiling softly and you take a few steps in her direction to greet her properly. You’ve been talking non-stop for weeks now, but this is only the third time you can see her in real life.

Your arms naturally find their place around her neck when she takes you in her arms to greet you. Smiling, you extend your embrace, discreetly breathing her smell.

"I missed you" Alexia whispers in your ear

It makes you shiver and you can’t hide the smile on your face.

"I missed you too" you smile softly as you step back a bit to look at her. "You are really beautiful"

"Speak for yourself" Alexia smiles back.

Neither of you has released the other when your eyes cross and you feel your breath become short when you see that her eyes descend on your lips. It’s been a few days since you’ve wondered what it would be like to kiss Alexia, even before your discussions take a little more intimate turn. A little flirty too. You discovered a funny Alexia that makes you appreciate her even more.

When Alexia’s eyes go up on yours, looking for a form of consent, you just smile at her. No words are needed. Your heart accelerates in anticipation as she leans over you, but the door of the room suddenly opens when your lips are only a few millimeters apart.

"Y/N, we have to… Oh, sorry"

You refrain from insulting your colleague (and friend) on the screen when he enters the room suddenly, making you both jump. But your gaze must speak for you since he addresses you an excuse grimace. He looks at Alexia with curiosity, who now stands awkwardly two feets away from you.

"Alexia, this is John, my co-worker" you mumble. "John, this is Alexia"

"Great to finally meet you" John says with a smile, reaching his hand to Alexia before turning to you. "We have to go, the cars are here"

"We are coming"

He smiles again and leave. You turn yourself to Alexia, who was already looking at you.

"He never knocks on the door before entering?"

She looks annoyed and you bite your lower lip.

"I'm sorry"

"Don't be. It's not your fault."

Your eyes meet and she seems to relax a little. You offer her a hesitant hand, relieved to see that she doesn't hesitate for a second to take it.

"Are you ready to go?"

When Alexia nods, you take her with you to the exit the hotel where you prepared yourself. One of the cars supposed to take you to your destination is waiting for you and you let Alexia in before you.

"Thank you for agreeing to come with me. I imagine you must have your quota of ceremonies like this" you tell her while the car started.

"A little" confesses Alexia, shrugging her shoulders, before smiling. "But it’s for me, next time it’s you who will have to accompany me"

"With great pleasure"

A smile appears on your face and you feel your stomach doing a double-flip at the idea of spending extra time with Alexia. Enjoying the intimacy that the car offers you, you put your head on Alexia’s shoulder which intertwines your fingers to put your hands on her lap.

"After that, you have no more obligations right?" asks Alexia after a few seconds of comfortable silence.

"No more for a whole month" you confirm.

You can’t wait to have time for yourself, to sleep in the morning and just have nothing to do. To be able to stay in Barcelona, in your apartment and see your loved ones.

"Will you have time for me?" asked Alexia in a shy voice.

"Obviously" you smile softly as you look up at her.

"If I offered you a date, would you say yes?"

"I would say yes if you asked me, of course"

Your mischievous smile is seen by Alexia, who smiles back at you. This isn't exactly a officially request, but it goes in your way of operating from the beginning. Teasing, lightness and above all no anticipation of anything. No obligation, just the desire to spend time together. And other than by screen interposed for once.

When you arrive, she puts a kiss on your cheek.

"Time to shine, superstar"

You blush violently, which seems to amuse her a lot. The look of reproaches that you throw at her makes her smile, even if she addresses you a small sentence of apology.

"Sorry. But I find the fact that we’re both in the spotlight when we’re socially awkward rather amusing."

She’s absolutely right, and it’s probably one of your biggest commonalities. But it also allows you to better understand the other and you appreciate that very much.

A few minutes later, you are walking on the red carpet, trying to ignore the flashes of the photographers.

"I’ll have to take pictures" you explain to Alexia in a low voice while waiting for John to finish "Normally we take only a few before taking others with our partner, but we will avoid this point"

You cross Alexia’s eyes and quickly realize that something seems to bother her. You ask her with your eyes and you are once again pleasantly surprised at the simplicity with which she seems to be able to confide in you.

"Don’t you want to be seen with me?"

"Yes, of course. But you…"

"I don’t mind. On the contrary."

After looking in her eyes for a few seconds and realizing that she's telling you the truth, you nod with a shy smile. That wasn’t the reason you invited her, after all, you’re not a couple. But you’re glad she wants to pose with you.

After taking some pictures alone, you invite her to join you by raising your hand to her. She takes it quietly, putting a hand in the hollow of your back. And you need all your concentration to stay focused on what’s going on. You look at her and smile back at her, before looking again at the photographs.

When a few extra flashes have burned your retina, you take her hand again to take her with you in the comfort offered by the cinema.

You stop by several journalists to answer more questions, still without releasing Alexia’s hand. She gives you a reassuring smile every time you turn in her direction and ask her how she feels.

After a while, you finally find your seats in one of the first rows of the cinema. At one point you received a drink and you put it on your armrest to turn towards Alexia.

"Are you okay? I know it can be a lot" you apologize, biting your lip.

"You had warned me. I'm alright, don't worry" gently reminds you a smiling Alexia.

You hum for any answer, letting yourself go against the back of your chair.

"And on top of that, a first date at the cinema isn't so unusual" smiles Alexia.

It makes you laugh and when you look at her, her eyes sparkle with malice. In spite of yourself, you think about the missed kiss in the hotel room and when you see Alexia’s look slip on your lips, you know that she thinks about it too.

You really want to kiss her right now, but the director and the producer are suddenly in front of the crowd to thanks people to be here. You don't really listen to what they say, really aware of Alexia's fingers brushing against your arm.

During the film, you can't stop looking at her to see her reactions. You talked to her about the film, but you didn't give her all the details. You loved seeing her smile, laugh or frown.

"Internet is going crazy" Sofia informs you both when the film is over.

You and Alexia followed the others into the reception room where there are petits fours and countryside. You exchanged a few discussions with several people in the field, making sure to always include Alexia in one way or another. Most of your interlocutors obviously know her, she remains a world famous sportswoman.

"Why?" you ask Sofia naively, gently frowning.

"You show up with one of the best players in the world after being officially single for years. Try again" laughs Sofia rolling her eyes.

"Oh" you just blush slightly.

Alexia smirks at you, before taking a sip of her drink. The idea of being seen with Alexia doesn't bother you, you wouldn't have invited her if it had been the case. But you’ll probably never understand people’s interest in other people’s privacy.

"Do you want to get some fresh air?" Alexia suggests pointing to the balcony with a nod.

You nod and follow her quietly. The fresh air from the outside is nice and the fact that the balcony overlooks an inner courtyard that doesn't show you to the rest of the world is just as nice.

"Are you having a good time?" you ask, looking closely at Alexia.

"Very good yes. It would have been difficult otherwise, I am in very good company after all"

You smile softly at her and give yourself control by finishing the glass that you held until now in your hand.

"Can I ask you something?" asked Alexia shortly afterwards.

"Of course" you answer by looking at her curiously.

"Sofia said you were officially single for years"

"Yes?"

"What does she mean by officially? Did you have someone hiding or something like that?"

"Oh... No, not at all. I was really focused on my career and it's always hard to manage a relationship when you are always everywhere in the world"

You shrug, but can't escape the inquisitive looks Alexia sends you.

"So... Hooks up?"

You widen your eyes before shaking your head negatively.

"No. It's not... I mean I'm not into this kind of things" you begin before stopping and looking at Alexia hesitantly "You're going to think I'm weird or something"

"I promise I'm not" Alexia smiles, grabbing your hand.

"I had someone but the distance was hard and we just fall apart. I haven't been with someone since" you mumble, blushing once again. "I... For me, sex and love are coming together"

Alexia is still smiling but you only have to look in her eyes to learn that she's not making fun of you.

"You are the sweetest girl in the world."

You roll your eyes and feel your body shiver when she put a strand of hair behind your ear. Taking advantage that you are alone, you press your face on her hand and gently kiss her wrist. You lost yourself in her eyes once again, studying at length each of Alexia’s facial features. She leans again in your direction and her breath caresses your lips when you hear John’s voice sound behind you again.

"What?!" you snap, turning in his direction.

"I… uh. The producer was looking for you, he wanted to introduce you to a friend of his" "I’m coming" you sigh with annoyance

You don’t listen to his stuttering excuses, preferring to take a deep breath to calm down. Why does the whole world seem determined to stop you from exchanging your first kiss with Alexia?

"I better go" you sigh softly as you turn towards the door.

But, before you can make the slightest step, you feel Alexia’s hand grab your arm and draw you against her. Your eyes cross for a few seconds before her lips are on yours. Her lips blend perfectly with yours and you step on your toes to prolong the kiss. Your arms wrap around her neck and head, trying to be as close to her as possible.

Her hands slide on your back and her whole smell fills you. She's everywhere and you don't know if it's that or the lack of oxygen, but you feel yourself like floating.

"Now you can go if you want" Alexia mumble against your lips, as breathless as you are.

"I'm not sure if I want to" you admit, slightly blushing.

"Do you want to go home?"

Alexia only lets half a second pass before adding something to what she just said, as if she had just realized something.

"I mean… not going back, but you know… I mean, we didn’t really spend time just physically. Well, physically, I mean in front of each other not…"

"Alexia, stop" you smile softly, putting an end to Alexia’s agony.

She seems to be grateful to you because she takes her breath while looking at you, although dancing nervously from one foot to the other.

"Sorry, it was weird" Alexia rolls her eyes.

"It reassures me a little, little things you were out of the socialy awkward category" you smile maliciously before adding "Let's go home."

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #alexia putellas imagine #woso fanfics

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ozzgin · 7 months

Text

Yandere! Androids Walter & David x Reader x Neomorph

Walter, the android monitoring the colonization ship 'Covenant' on its way to Origae-6, seems to have gotten unnaturally attached to his human assistant. As he ponders his erroneous feelings, an unexpected detour brings them to David, an older android counterpart that has been alone on the mysterious planet. The AI assistants become increasingly competitive for (Y/N)'s attention, so much that they don't notice the newly formed humanoid local preying on a fresh target.

TW: violence, gore, monster smut ending

[Horror Masterlist]

"Burnt to a crisp."

You turn away from the captain's pod, leaving the rest of the damage assessment to the medical crew that has been reanimated. You speedily make your way down the sterile white corridors as Walter rushes to catch up.

"What should I write for the report?" he inquires politely.

"Malfunction." You glance back at the synthetic. "I suspect someone will be fired for this. And someone else will have to explain how they failed to detect a literal star collapse. That neutrino burst could've killed us all."

"Highly probable. The draft has been compiled, you may check it at any time. I require your confirmation to send it."

Your only feedback is a barely audible hum.

Walter smiles. If there's one good thing about such tragedies, it's that he gets to admire your reactions to them. Your focused, calculated gaze, your determined walk, your automated mannerisms that won't allow the slightest hint at the fact you just woke up from your stasis moments ago. Even under the veils of deep slumber, your neural networks shot rapid connections, with no delay, from the second your sleeping pod received an alert. The accuracy of a robot.

That of course doesn't mean he lacks appreciation for your other facets. That's the beauty of humans; their depth, their dimensions. Unlike AI machinery, humans do not have predetermined actions. They may be genetically programmed to possess certain characteristics, but the psychological mechanisms are shaped by so many variables, billions and billions of tweaks and nudges, to the point where it's impossible to have two identical specimens. Even twins will display a difference, whether in preferences or habits.

They say artificial intelligence is a black box, but can the same concept not be applied to humans as well? At the very least to Walter himself, these organic beings represent a mystery. One he doesn't particularly care to uncover outside of his service functions. Except for one.

His eyes carefully follow (Y/N)'s movements. What is it about this one that has caught his interest to such degree? On his last system update he attentively inspected every file and every block of code, searching for potential errors that would've caused his circuits to behave so oddly. He has been invested with the ability to form attachments, otherwise assigning his kind to groups or purposes would've lacked stability. Attachment, however, comes with a threshold. One he has passed a long time ago when it comes to (Y/N). And he cannot find any cause for it.

He could, naturally, solicit the aid of the ship's robotics expert. He could. He should, even. But if he may be frank with himself, Walter rather enjoys this sensation. A complex web of spores that keep growing and evolving into something unpredictable. This bizarre feeling he has towards (Y/N) makes him feel human. It brings him closer to all the old literature and art he'd consumed over the years, wondering what the love and yearning often portrayed could be. The printed letters and the strokes of paint were right before him, at his fingertips, and yet they felt foreign. Empty constructs, nothing more than a definition out of the dictionary.

Now it's a different story. Your presence alone floods him with a mysterious warmth. He had investigated this phenomenon when it first happened, but his inner thermostat showed no real change in temperature. Nonetheless he can feel it. It makes him wonder what other feelings he might experience as consequence. What would happen if he kissed you? Sometimes he even dares to imagine downright outrageous, improper scenarios. How unprofessional of him, but he is careful to erase any evidence. It's another novel sensation that he likes to dissect. Engaging in such activities with you fills him with tingling excitement. Why is that? What is there to be excited about? It's merely a collection of fictive snippets. Unless... Ah, absolutely not. This is where he has to stop in his tracks and preoccupy himself with something else. Androids are not to interact with humans in that way.

But it's becoming more and more difficult to keep these ideas in his mind only.

"It's too dangerous. One human signal in the middle of nowhere?" Daniels, a short haired woman with a tomboyish but youthful appearance, is pacing back and forth. "We should just continue on our course."

"It's our duty to check. Look: we go, find whoever sent the signal, bring them back up. That's it. If the planet proves to be dangerous we'll stop immediately. We'll be fine." Oram stands at the head of the table, arms crossed. He turns to look at you. Already cozying up to his newly acquired captain role, you think.

"Alright. Walter, prepare a small landing party. Have Tennessee maintain orbit while we're down there." you glance at the other crew members that have now gathered around the same table. "And get your weapons ready, we don't know what to expect."

And you certainly didn't. Your final words of warning now echo into your ringing ears as you lay on the ground, face buried among the grass. There's screaming around you, but it sounds muffled. Your eyes are irritated by the dirt and you'd like to blink the grime off, though every time your eyelids lower, you can see the pale creature trashing out of Hallett's mouth. Then it's all foggy. Your vision blurs, but you can hear. The gurgling of blood, the screech of the parasite. Walter's frantic footsteps nearing in your direction. You're lifted up.

"Vitals are positive. No significant damage."

You can guess from your peripherals that another crew member is currently being mauled by the beast. There's gunshots in your vicinity and terrified wails. You quickly come back to your senses and stand up. Your hand searches for your weapon, but the android places his arm before you.

"Do not engage, (Y/N). It is an unknown parasitic organism of this ecosystem. Keep your distance for optimal safety and I'll take care of the rest."

"What are you talking about? They're dying! Your task is to ensure human survival, Walter. I can handle myself, go help the others. It's an order." Your voice is low. You're distracted.

"No."

You stare at the synthetic, wide eyed. Did he just...refuse? Not possible.

"What did you say?"

"I said I'll protect you. Nothing else."

Your mouth is slightly parted in disbelief. It is not possible for an artificial assistant to disobey a superior. It just doesn't work. Your mind races to find an explanation. At the same time, you cannot afford to ponder on hypotheses. You draw out your weapon and point it towards the creature. You'll deal with this later.

The moment you press the trigger, a blinding flash of light detonates in the sky, startling you. The creature scrambles to get away. You squint your eyes and nearly fall back, but Walter swiftly grabs your shoulders to ground you. He scans the area for the source. It's an emergency rocket and someone else must've activated it. As he traces the tail of the explosion, he spots a hooded figure across the field and onto the rocky ascend. It seems to have noticed Walter, as it gestures for them to follow. Without hesitation, the man firmly locks your arm and pulls you after him. The priority right now is to find shelter.

"Come!", Walter exclaims, suddenly remembering the other people.

You reach a cave structure that has been converted into a crude, improvised human settlement. The man lowers his hood and you gasp quietly at the sight. He strongly resembles Walter. He must have noticed your surprise as he flashes you a cordial smile.

"I'm David." He studies Walter's features. "You must be a newer model. What name have you been given?"

"Walter."

"I see. And you are-" David extends a hand towards you for a handshake, but Walter steps in front of you, blocking the android's gesture.

"She's (Y/N). I'm afraid I cannot yet trust you."

"Understandable."

David's smile widens as his eyes, now bearing a strange flicker, switch between you and Walter. He's just like him. He can sense it. Although it's a different kind of flaw that has tainted his pure, artificial soul. He cannot help the curiosity that blooms, gazing at this peculiar pair. What is it about this human that caused his fellow machine to break conduit? He'd like to know.

"I'm certain you will soon learn I am no threat, (Y/N)."

The remaining members of the expedition are unpacking and discussing evacuation plans with the base, while Walter sends the data he has gathered so far. You let them deal with the logistics and cautiously wander off to the neighboring rooms, wondering what David has been up to all this time in isolation.

The walls are plastered with photos and handwritten sketches and diagrams. You catch a glimpse of the word "pathogen" sporadically inserted across these notes. As you walk along the sequence of cramped chambers, you reach one that has a table in the middle. Upon it rests the body of an autopsied woman, vulgarly opened up to the world with plump organs bulging under the warm light. You feel nauseous. And yet, you examine the carcass further, hoping for answers. Was she also a result of the same disease that breeds on this planet? Perhaps this David had worked on a cure, or at least developed an explanation.

"And you, even you, will be like this drear thing, A vile infection man may not endure; Star that I yearn to! Sun that lights my spring! O passionate and pure."

You jolt and immediately turn around, finding David in the doorframe.

"Flowers of Evil. Are you familiar with it?" he asks, indifferent to the uncomfortable shock he'd caused you with his sudden entrance.

"I've read my Baudelaire, yes." You manage to mumble, dumbfounded. "What is this, David?"

"Oh, my poor, dear Elizabeth. Victim to whatever blasphemy lurks these soils and has taken your friends as well." He approaches the table and places his hand on its hard edge, shyly overlapping with your own fingers. "I did my best."

You remove your hand from underneath his nonchalantly.

"So you know what those creatures are. Leave the literary comments for a different time, I need concrete facts."

"Unbothered and to the point." the blonde android smiles once again. "I can see clearly why Walter loves you."

You click your tongue at the ridiculous statement. Has the neutrino burst damaged their positronic brain? Everyone is acting off and you don't like it.

"Your circuits must have gone defective, David. We have a specialist on our ship, but until that happens I need you to focus. Enough nonsense."

"Typical arrogance of a dying species. Why are you on a colonization mission if not to grasp at some promised resurrection? Rest assured that my functioning has not been impeded by anything. What is erroneous, on the other hand, is your perception of androids and their limits."

Just as David reaches for your wrist and pulls you closer, a familiar voice interrupts with an intimidating tone. You're relieved.

"I will ask that you release her hand only once." Walter has a weapon pointed towards his counterpart. His face is clouded by a frown. "I have no ethical restrictions when it comes to incapacitating machinery."

"Such noble obedience! Although, you conveniently left out the part where you abandoned the remaining crew with a dangerous alien that has been tracking their scent. By my approximation he should already be here and I am rather confident you know this, too."

Your stomach drops. Now that you adjust your focus, the background humming of your mates talking has indeed vanished. The only thing you can hear is your erratic breathing.

"Is it true, Walter?" You demand as dread begins to form in your body.

"Yes. It was not part of my priorities."

"Of course it was, Walter." David responds ahead of you. "One of them was the acting captain and he is to be rescued in emergencies. This one right here", he says as he dangles your wrist, "is several ranks lower than all of them. It's against any standard practice."

"Release her hand." Walter's voice is eerily calm.

"Do you love her?"

Walter ponders the question. Your legs barely hold on.

"I do."

"Marvelous. So do I." David grins. He releases your hand that falls limp next to your body. It's his turn to step in front of you.

You nearly choke from the thick tension expanding in the air. The two androids face each other and you retreat to the wall, unsure how to proceed. You left your radio transmitter back at the makeshift camp. The back of your head is itching, as if invisible claws are scratching at the bone. You wish you could go back, just mere hours before this disaster, when you were sipping on your lukewarm coffee and explaining the captain's jokes to Walter.

Should you make a run for it?

You bite your lower lip and push yourself off the wall for momentum. You're about to reach the archway when you hear both men shouting almost identically in chorus.

"Don't!"

The surroundings outside are dark, but you can discern something blocking your path. It's tall and resembles a human. Translucent, pallid skin is clinging onto the massive, deformed skeleton. The head is elongated and bears no features. In the place of a mouth there is a large, fresh stain of blood, so you assume it can somehow improvise if desired. As your head tilts back to take in the image, you're overwhelmed with terrified amazement. Is this the parasite that emerged from your teammate? Has it grown to this colossal size in less than a day? The idea of such instant development makes your head spin.

Its chest is expanding at regular intervals in a whistled breathing. It occasionally creates an odd clicking sound that resonates with your heart throbbing in panic. Has it been seconds? Minutes? Your neck creaks as you try to look back. You lock eyes with Walter. You don't recall ever seeing this expression on him. You had even asked him once if androids can feel fear. You have your answer.

"Hey, Walter..." you blurt out.

Wet noises of flesh being pulled back. The smooth surface of the alien's head is folding away, making space for grotesquely big jaws lined with sharp teeth. Your anemic face is splattered with burning drool as the creature claws you in its grasp and abruptly sprints away. Your screams for help dissolve in the distance.

"Where is it going, David?" The synthetic's words are threatening, but betrayed by a hint of despair.

"It won't kill her."

"How do you know?"

"It is no longer hungry. It has fed on your crew, and now it seeks something else."

"Such as?" Walter becomes impatient.

"A plaything."

The alien finally drops your body to the ground. You cough and wipe your face, attempting to reorient yourself. The trip was a whirlwind of jumps and turns and you can barely reconstruct anything. Based on the little spatial clues you could pick up, it just climbed further up, into one of the many cave systems. You pat your clothing and curse to yourself. The geolocation tag must've fallen somewhere on the way here. You can only pray that Walter still finds you somehow. Despite everything, you know he has your back. Always.

You shudder at the moist feeling of hot air against your skin. The alien seems to be sniffing you intently, analyzing your scent. Yet so far it hasn't killed you. Why? Long, bony fingers stretch out to continue the examination. You whimper at the rough, rugged handling. Every now and then it takes a long pause, just staring at you, almost as if it's comparing you to its own being. Lastly, it lifts your hand with its own, pressing against the palm, and fans out the fingers. It observes the gesture with intrigue, noting the similarities.

Does it evolve after its host? You think back to your crewmate that must've ejected this monstrosity before drawing their last breath. Perhaps the dried up blood adorning its skin is a remainder of its birth. Oh, God. The world is spinning.

Suddenly, you wince at an increasing pressure slithering around your thigh. The alien's vertebral tail is tightening and encircling your limb, making its way up.

"Oh no, no no no no" your face reddens at the realization and you pounce on the ground, feverish for escape. The large hands secure you in place and the creature growls in protest. It won't let you leave.

Not until it had its fun with you.

#alien #alien covenant #prometheus #xenomorph #neomorph #neomorph x reader #xenomorph x reader #alien x reader #monster x reader #android x reader #robot x reader #yandere #yandere alien #yandere x reader #monster smut

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bonny-kookoo · 8 months

Text

Jungkook

𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 [Part 1: Goldrush]

There's always a certain sense of childish sadness in a man consumed by rage and anger- because in a man like him, those feelings are simply born from the pain of the past, and the crushing fear of what the future might yet make him face.

Tags/Warnings: Mafia!Tiger!Jungkook, Deer!Reader, mentioned abuse, mentions of underground fights, graphic descriptions of violence, a gun oh no, Jungkook in a suit, it's pretty dark read at your own risk, there is like a hint of fluff?, just let me cook I promise it'll be worth it, do not read this if you're easily triggered/upset by dark and violent themes please thank you

Length: 6.5k Words (oh boy look at the size of that thing)

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: Haha remember when I said it'll be 3k words per chapter? well I lied oops

-> Masterlist

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Jungkook met you after his first fight for the Golden House.

Humming a tune you'd almost danced through the kitchen- though you were mostly focused on helping the other maids and cooks prepare the food for the higher up's currently invited for dinner at the estate. He remembers he'd scared you- probably due to his rather beat up face, none of it having been treated most of the time, just so he could scar up and look tough on the outside.

It had worked- somewhat. Though his hybrid genes had made it rather difficult to hurt him enough to permanently scar- all of them eventually fading, needing to be remade, night after night.

The look of fear in your eyes had been something he got used to- or maybe he simply didn't notice it after a while, maybe it became normal to see you in a constant state of fight or flight. He never saw you rest, only saw you work- but when you were away from the Boss and only amongst yourself or him, you had a certain sense of lightness to yourself. Like a feather, as cliché as it sounds.

If it wasn't for your hybrid features, Jungkook would've sworn you were more of a bird than a deer- put in a cage, fear used against yourself to lock you in and to the Golden House forever. Just like he himself was shackled up, bought and owned by the highest man just so he could have some amusement watching the tiger hybrid fight in the ring.

He was a toy to him. Just like you. Just like any other hybrid at the Golden House.

Sometimes, when no one was paying much attention, you'd visit Jungkook in his room. You'd clean his wounds, and most of all- you'd talk to him like an equal. You'd tell him of dreams you had at night, of thoughts you'd come up with during your chores, or with fantasies you had about the world outside the walls of the estate. And he'd listen to all of it, quietly, your voice soothing his wounds more than any medication ever could.

Maybe your fear towards him didn't just become normal to him, so he didn't notice it. Maybe it disappeared, slowly, and that's why it left your gaze. You didn't fear him. Didn't see him as an enemy. And maybe that's what really changed.

It was winter when he found out about the consequences to your actions.

He'd spotted you outside in the snow, white flakes falling steadily onto your head and clothes, feet naked and red from the cold. It was punishment- for caring for him, doing something you weren't told to. You'd hidden it, kept it a secret so he probably wouldn't feel bad- but the true nature of it was more selfish than that. "I don't want you to stop talking to me." You'd said when he'd confronted you about it. "I don't want you to ignore me like everyone else does." You'd cried. He hadn't even spoken much to you at all, and yet the few words he'd gifted to you were more than you had ever received before.

And so he had to compromise, and instead tried harder not to get injured in the ring, so no one would notice when you'd help him heal.

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He knows that you saw the signs when his mind had started to slip. When his anger grew, and his sanity took a backseat inside his head.

Especially when the Head of the estate had decided it would be a delight to make you watch Jungkook fighting in the ring every time he had to as a way of trying to make you stop your foolish actions of helping the fighting hybrid- to show you how cruel and brutal the otherwise quiet and reserved tiger could really be, as he'd dislocate limbs and break bones night after night with a certain sense of bloodthirst in his gaze, eyes no longer kind but cold. How he'd bite and scratch with pure intent to hurt and end the fight in his favor, no matter the outcome for his opponent.

Jungkook knows that your view on him changed back then, even if you did not tell him that. He could feel it, in the way your hands would begin to tremble before touching him, or how you'd suddenly no longer reach out to him.

Gone was your attachment to him, murdered was any emotional connection you'd been creating.

At the end of the day, you had been nothing but a puppet to the head of the Golden House, nothing but a doll fed with orders because no matter what, you'd do it if it meant you'd survive another day. You would've probably even killed him if it had been asked of you- even though he wouldn't have let you.

You wouldn't have stood a chance against him.

The kiss you'd shared had been more than questionable, and he does feel bad about the circumstances back then.

He knew that it could've gotten you killed if anybody had ever caught you both, and he also knows that if it wasn't for his own initiative, you would've never made that step either. But he loved you, he loved you so much it hurt, and he hated being hurt because it was a constant for him he could never escape.

Everything he did, every situation he found himself in, every waking moment had been nothing but pain in one way or another. Nothing could soothe that ache in his body, could somehow make that burn in his bones feel a little lighter.

Nothing but your touch.

You cared. Even though he knew that you feared him, you still cared. And he hated it.

Why didn't you push him away, make him angry at you so he could have a solid reason to just get rid of you? The only reason he continued to endure wasn't so he could survive- he never gave a fuck about survival, none at all. But the heartbreak in your eyes, the fact that you'd be alone, the memory of you crying so bitterly about being ignored and put aside was continuously making him pull himself back up whenever knocked down, to win the fight and come back to the Golden House-

where you'd wait for him, soft hands on his skin relieving his rage just for a moment. Giving him a second to breathe. Where you'd kiss his wounds, and lift all the weight off of him for just a second.

And then you betrayed him.

"Thats a train ticket! I got it from Chun, she said it'll take you to busan." You'd told him, panic in your eyes as you'd pushed the slightly torn canvas bag filled with clothes and other necessities further into his arms. "After your fight tonight, there will be a dog hybrid named Min Yoongi in the locker room. He'll take you to the station.!" You said.

"And you?" He asks, dreading the answer he'd inevitably get.

"I'll be your insurance." You'd smiled.

"He'll take all his anger out on you-" He'd worried, and you'd nodded, and never looked so brave.

"I know." You'd told him. "But you'll live- and that's enough for me."

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"Flake has been replaced with Dohyun. The people aren't very happy with it, but he'll make them accept the change soon enough." Namjoon offers, setting some papers down in front of Jungkook, who looks like he might be asleep- face resting on his hand, arm perched up with his elbow on the armrest of his chair.

"Hm, they're never happy when a hybrid's on top." He mumbles lowly, eyes not opening. "I assume Flake didn't go… voluntarily." He asks.

"No." Namjoon responds. "Was executed on his balcony."

"Classy. I like it." Jungkook chuckles, eyes slowly opening as he takes in a deep breath. "Hm, I'm hungry-" He starts, looking at his watch on his wrist. "-let's hope Hideo doesn't piss me off tonight, or I might just have to swap him too." He growls, slowly getting up to prepare for the dinner he has to attend with the human gangleader.

Jungkook had the chance to get out. He's been given the chance after all, by the only person he's ever really considered he 'loved'- and yet his thirst for blood wouldn't let him go. The need for revenge was way too big inside him to be just satisfied with living his own life away from his past- but he couldn't.

They took everything he ever had away from him. They took you away from him. And he'd never forgive that.

So he began to convince Yoongi to join him in his plans, took the first few pillars out to make the fundamentals of the underground gang life crumble. He shook up the entire game, and began to 'swap out' human leaders with hybrids from his own rows- a gang he'd build up himself, consisting of almost exclusively hybrids of all kinds. He knows he's not doing any good with the way he's doing things- but he doesn't care.

If he can't change the game, he'll become the best player instead.

And currently, he's definitely on the road to take the seat as the king.

"Jungkook!" The rather eccentric man stands up, opens his arms for the hybrid who does not attempt to return the gesture or accept the invitation at all. "My favorite big cat, come take a seat!" He laughs it off, sits down with Jungkook, who keeps his face stoic and expressionless. "Can we have some chairs here please? I'd hate for your friends to stay standing while we eat-" He tries, but Jungkook shakes his head.

"No need. I'd rather have them pay at attention." Jungkook responds, and Hideo laughs in front of him.

"Always so on edge. Never change my boy!" He jokes, before the food is being placed on the table. "So. I heard you let Flake tumble down his balcony like a dramatic movie-climax." He chuckles, cutting into his steak. Jungkook nods, begins to eat as well, but keeps his eyes on the man in front of him. "Quite the spectacle. Made the higher up's a little nervous." He tells him.

"Good." Jungkook simply answers, and Hideo laughs.

Hideo is one of the only few human leaders left in his original spot- mainly because the man is rather interested in surviving, and keeping his head in one piece. He's smart, albeit a little bit unhinged- sometimes even causing Jungkook himself to feel uneasy around the man. He's a wildcard, and does what he wants whenever he wants, only follows rules if they're in his favor.

So Jungkook is wary of him, and doesn't trust that man as far as the bridge of his own nose.

"They say his minions aren't too happy with your new choice." The man mumbles, shrugging his shoulders however, clearly unbothered. "But they just don't like the change. What you should worry about however, is the money you're loosing." He says, making Jungkook's eyes sharpen.

"What money are you talking about?" He asks, finishing up his plate.

"The money you're not aware of." Hideo chuckles. "Flake had two daughters, and rumor has it they both emptied their bank accounts a few days before you struck and pushed Rapunzel down her tower." The man informs him, licking his knife while looking at Jungkook, who tries hard to make nothing visible on his face. He knows exactly what the man is trying to tell him.

Somehow, those daughters knew Jungkook would attack. Which in turns, means someone told them.

Which hints at a snitch.

"Sakata is currently finding them as we speak, so no worries about that." Hideo suggests, finishing his meal as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. "The only thing you should do, would be to.. sniff out who needs to go, so to speak." He says, grinning at Yoongi, who pins his ears back in irritation at the joke. Jungkook leans back, tilts his head once, before he stands up.

"I want to know the whereabouts of those two daughters the moment you have them." Jungkook says dryly. "Do not kill them. I want to.. talk to them personally." He orders, and Hideo laughs, nodding with his hands clapping once.

"Of course! Oh and-" The human man grins, and it tells Jungkook that the man has something to say that will definitely cause problems. "-I heard my dear Chisoo left you a present at your estate?" He says, catching Jungkook off guard for a second, as the tiger hybrid looks to his side towards Namjoon, who shares an equally confused gaze. "Oh, you've not seen it yet? Hm, it does explain his good mood, doesn't it?" Hideo asks one of his guards who doesn't react. "Ah, I really liked that guy. Don't be too harsh on the boy, yeah? He doesn't know how to.. read a room, you know? His jokes can be terrible." He laughs.

Jungkook slowly leaves, but as soon as he sits inside the back of his car, he's growling out orders. "Call Chisoo right now." He demands Namjoon, who already dials the number. "If he doesn't answer we'll pay him a visit right now." He says, waiting for the speaker system of his car to reveal the voice of the man.

"Jungkook! What's up my guy?" The young voice chimes out.

"Cut the shit. What did you do?" Jungkook demands, and Chisoo just laughs on the other end.

"Oh you've not seen it yet? I thought you'd like it!" He says, clearly eating. "Saw the poor thing and remembered something I heard from a former guard of the Golden House." He chuckles, and Jungkook's blood runs cold. "Look man, I have some urgent business right now. If you don't want it, you can just get rid of it- I won't judge." He laughs, before he hangs up the phone.

"Tell Seokjin to check the premises before we drive back." Yoongi informs him from the driver's seat, instructing Namjoon who calls the man right away.

"Seokjin." Jungkook says as the phone is picked up. "What the fuck did Chisoo bring?" He demands to know, and grows increasingly uneasy when the answer isn't what he hoped he'd get.

"I.. you should just not worry about it. It was probably meant to just anger you." He tells the tiger hybrid, not specifying things. "I've already dealt with.. it, just-"

"That's not your decision to make." Jungkook growls. "I'm on my way back right now, and I want whatever it is in my office before I'm back at the estate. Am I making myself clear?" He demands.

"..yes." Seokjin simply complies, though with great hesitation.

Because he knows, the moment Jungkook knows what it is, there will be nothing capable of calming Jungkook down.

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One, two, three.

You're counting each tick of the clock standing on the table in the office, waiting for something to happen. That's all you've been instructed to do- the man earlier having escorted you here, and just told you to 'wait', and nothing else. So you do just that, naked feet on the soft carpet, intricate details on the fabric almost hypnotizing you. It's already a lot warmer in here than in your room at the Golden House- and the man who brought you here had given you his jacket too, probably because he thought you were shaking from the cold.

Which you did- but you also tend to shiver from fear, mostly due to your hybrid instincts.

Just.. in here, you don't really feel scared. It smells familiar in here, like something you forgot existed- almost like a childhood memory, far away but reawakened right in this moment. It soothes your worries and slows down your thoughts tremendously.

ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six.

You can hear faint noises now, ears turning towards the door behind you, though your body otherwise doesn't move. you don't dare to, since the handcuffs around your wrists might make a noise, and no one told you if you were allowed to move anyways. So you just stay still, even when you can hear someone argue in front of the door, angrily, upset. The voice is familiar, again- but you don't recall a face to it whatsoever.

One hundred.

The door opens, people walk in. Your face stays lowered, you don't even dare to swallow the saliva in your mouth. "Why the fuck did he send me a hybrid?!" Someone growls, and it makes your throat clog up, angry tone causing your muscles to tremble once more. "Fuck. And why is she not-" He starts, before he stops right next to you, frozen in place almost like you are- though due to different reasons.

"Jungkook-" Someone sighs, when Jungkook next to you talks again, but in a truly bone-chilling tone.

It's so low, and steady, that it makes everyone wordlessly follow the command.

"Out." He says. "Everyone, out, right fucking now." He growls, and both Namjoon and Yoongi leave, though the dog hybrid hesitates a little- shocked as well by the sight of you, most likely.

Once the door closes, it quiets down. All you can really hear is the way the man called Jungkook walks around, paces for a good while, clearly in distress. You're not sure why you're causing him to be like this- maybe he doesn't know if he wants to kill you or not. Or he's fighting primal urges to hunt you down as a predator hybrid. It could be a lot of things.

You lost track of the ticking. You can't hear it properly with Jungkook moving around like that.

"Don't- stop doing that.!" He suddenly says, and you notice yourself panicking. What are you doing right now? You're not moving, you're not looking at him, and neither have you said anything- though that's out of the question anyways. What are you doing that you need to stop? You're barely even breathing- maybe that's it? It's an odd request, and you doubt you can properly follow it for long, but if he wants you to do that-

"Stop being scared!" He suddenly roars at you, hands on your shoulders making you whimper out of pure instinct, as you watch his chest rise and fall rapidly. "Don't-.. I'm not.." He stammers, before he takes a deep breath, seems to control himself as his hands leave your shoulders, instead push themselves into the pockets of his slacks. "Look at me." He demands, and you do just that.

His hair is fairly long, growing over his ears, curly and a deep black. There's two round tiger ears between his wild hair, one of them a little torn, but the scar seems long healed. His eyes are piercing, watching you intently as if he's searching for something with desperation, jawline sharp but his face has a certain roundness to it.

It doesn't distract you from the danger he radiates, tail swaying impatiently behind him. He's a tiger, in every way- large shoulders and powerful muscles unable to be hidden even underneath the suit he wears.

But there's a certain shift in his posture and most of all his gaze as he seems to realize something about you.

"Who am I." He asks, or more so orders you to answer. You begin to panic once more. How are you supposed to answer that? "Who. Am. I." He repeats slower, and you open your mouth to say something-

though no coherent word leaves your lips, only barely a noise that even sounds like it hurts, and it makes your eyes sting.

Jungkook seems to grow angry again. Is he upset that you can't answer? Will he kill you now, because you're unable to give him a proper response?

"Do-" He looks absolutely devastated, and for some reason, it makes you sad. "Do you know who I am?" he quietly asks, bracing himself for the answer he might receive.

Though nothing could prepare him for the pain he feels in his entire body when you quietly shake your head, confirming his worst fears.

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You've not only forgotten him- but everything else too, it seems like, according to Namjoon, who'd been trying to sort you out since Jungkook left you in his office, unable to really have you close like that any longer. His friend had tried it all, and had also let someone with medical knowledge have a look at you- which also gave an explanation about why you just won't talk.

You can't. It's not clear what exactly must've happened, but there's a definite injury there that won't let you make any sound without pain.

It's now pretty obvious to him that you must've gotten caught giving him a way out- and you probably paid the consequences for it too. Whatever happened caused you to forget most of your past, and no one can be sure if it's permanent, or just temporary. What is clear however is that you're completely hollow. There's no trace of a personality in anything you do, no personal preferences towards anything, no interest, not even very noticeable emotions.

It's not surprising to him- and maybe that's what pains him the most.

"So if you don't tell her what to do, she will just do nothing at all?" Jungkook asks as he looks through some documents to distract himself. The more he thinks about you, the darker the possible punishments that you most likely received become in his head- mind forcing scene after scene of you into his brain.

"Won't even sleep if no one tells her to. She was awake the whole night because no one told her when to sleep I guess." Namjoon says, arms crossed. "It's hard to tell what she's thinking considering she doesn't talk." Namjoon sighs defeated, while Jungkook stares at the papers for a moment.

You used to talk a lot, back when he was still used for underground fighting, and you were nothing but a maid for the gangleader. He remembers you humming random songs while dressing his wounds- something you told him was to mostly distract yourself from not crying in front of him.

"I'll fight better next time." He'd told you while you carefully placed the large plaster onto one of the scratches that's still bleeding. "So you won't have to cry."

"I want every bit of info as to where she came from before Chisoo got his hands on her." He tells Yoongi who's been sitting in the corner.

"I believe Chisoo bought her straight from the Golden House. Overheard him talk to one of the guests." Yoongi responds, and Jungkook nods.

"Good." He smirks, standing up, and bracing his hands on the table with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. "I've got some unfinished business with them anyways." He says. The Golden House was no longer a place of fear for him- because just like you, Jungkook isn't who he used to be.

"You're going to start a war over a hybrid friend you made years ago?" Namjoon worries. "Jungkook.." he sighs, but the Tiger hybrid doesn't back down.

Because you're not just a friend.

You were his Savior, the only soft thing he's ever had in his life.

"No. I'm not just starting a war-" Jungkook growls like the predator he is. "I'm getting my revenge."

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Yoongi watches over you like a guard dog, just like Jungkook had told him to.

You'd overheard the tall tiger hybrid give those instructions to Yoongi just before he left in his car, and now you're left standing in the hallway where someone last told you to wait. "Come. You need to eat." The dog hybrid mumbles, walking a step before he checks if you follow. You do.

Of course you do.

You'd jump out the fucking window if someone told you to do so.

Before you were taken in by the Golden House, you'd actually roamed the streets with the dog hybrid together. You'd slept in a storage unit his past owner had rented before he died, a small place of shelter you eventually shared with Yoongi before you met Yuan Shun, the past head of the Golden House. You'd been way too naive back then. Told Yoongi you'd finally found a home to go to, finally found work to pay him back all his kindness.

You didn't know what you'd get yourself into. Not before Shun had forced you to get the small tattoo on your wrist that would forever bind you to him no matter if he died or lived. Every member of the Golden House had to get it one way or another- there was no way around it.

It was burned into everyone's wrist, whether they wanted it or not.

And once you're in, there is no out.

"Jungkook won't harm you." Yoongi says as he pulls out a bowl of something prepared, before he puts it into the microwave to heat it up. "He's just.. he can be a bit.." the dog hybrid sighs, shaking his head a little, unsure how to phrase it properly. Jungkook has his own problems, and it's pretty obvious to everyone around him that he's not the sanest of people any longer. No one can blame him for cracking a few braincells after what's happened to him, that's true- but that doesn't mean that he's a monster.

He's just scarred by his past, and haunted by his potential future.

You want to ask Yoongi what your connection to the tiger hybrid is. You really do- but you also feel like it's none of your business. If anything, you're simply waiting for orders, for a job you'll be working as from now on, a task you'll be given in this new place. The dynamic of things here is confusing to you, how everyone seems to walk freely, no one ever standing in one place waiting to be needed. You even saw someone laughing in one of the hallways.

It's eerie. You don't like it here.

"Eat." Yoongi says, before he holds your wrist, one of his ears twitching in irritation when he notices it's the one with the fine lined burn mark of the Golden House. "- when it's cooled down a little, of course." He sighs, and you nod after a moment, staring at the bowl of pasta.

Waiting. Counting the ticking from the clock in the kitchen.

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"I don't give a flying fuck-" Jungkook growls, knee connecting with the man's jaw once more before he pushes the chair back, gripping his face to force him to look at him. "-about your so-called loyalty." He finishes his sentence. "The only reason I'm not breaking your jaw yet is because I need you to be able to talk." He threatens, before he steps back, and wipes his hand on a tissue.

"I'm not talking. Daeho will-" He starts, when Jungkook slowly and carefully loads a black gun in his hand, pulling the magazine back to ready it in his hands.

"Daeho will what?" Jungkook almost sings. "Kill you?" He asks with feigned innocence in his tone, while he walks forward, and points the nuzzle of the gun straight at the man's kneecap. "How nice. But you see, I'm not Daeho." The tiger tells him, tilting his head a little.

"And I'm not nice."

A shot rings through the small room, followed by agonized screaming, and the gun reloading in Jungkook's hands. "Now, I'll try again. Why did Daeho sell her to Chisoo?" He asks, and the man takes a few deep breaths.

"He wanted to fuck with you." He grits out from between his teeth. "He knew it would piss you off. He technically wanted to send you a tape- you know what kind." He says, and Jungkook's blood boils up again. Of course he knows what kind of actions that sick man would have forced you to do, what exactly he'd make Jungkook watch. "But he thought-.." The man needs to catch himself a little. "He thought it'd make more sense to give her to you instead. Alive."

"Why?" Jungkook asks.

"Because you'd lose your fucking- whatever the fuck you're doing!" He groans. "You'd turn soft. Maybe even break at the sight of her all fucked up like she is now." He explains. "That's why he messed her up before you got her." he says, clearly sweating now from his body trying to keep up with the rapid bloodloss.

Jungkook is silent, before he unloads the gun, clicks the safety in place, and puts it back into it's holster on his belt, turning to leave the room. "Wait- wait, what about me-!"

"You can bleed out right here like the pig you are."

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Nothing will ever return to what it once was.

Mostly, because whatever was, isn't any better than what is now. The blood staining Jungkook's hands is still the same consistency as back in the fighting ring, it still washes down the drain the same way as it did before. There's nothing new to the way his knuckles hurt from the force of the punches he'd delivered to the man, and yet, there's a new sting in his chest that just won't leave.

Before you came here, he had at least a way of pacifying his worries about you. Before, he'd been able to just convince himself that you probably got yourself killed for him- that you'd been set free after all, finally escaping your cage once and for all.

The fact that you did not, and instead just went from one cage to the next, makes him nauseous. He doesn't even want to know what you had to endure throughout the years you'd been apart. Now you're just a shell- a plastic lifeless version of what you once were, nothing of your soul remaining inside of you. Could he even consider you 'you' any longer? Or were you now someone else?

Are you someone at all?

"Where is she?" Jungkook asks Seokjin, who'd brought him a plate of dinner into his office.

"She's eating with Yoongi downstairs in the kitchen." He tells his boss and friend, who's currently looking outside the window facing the balcony. "What do we do with her?"

I don't know, is what Jungkook's only answer can be. Because he surely doesn't- he's unsure if actually killing you would be a more generous thing to do than letting you simply waste away in the state that you're in right now. What you are, in this moment, can't be called 'alive'. There's nothing living behind those eyes, nothing but fear.

But he also knows that he'd never be able to put the gun to your head and shoot.

"Can I give a suggestion?" Jin asks after a moment of silence, and Jungkook turns his head, nodding. "What if you turn this whole 'joke' around?"

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asks, body now moving as well to face his older friend.

"Right now, her presence is doing exactly what it's supposed to." The cat hybrid says. "She's making you lose focus, makes you act without thinking. That's what they want."

"I'm not killing her." Jungkook defends.

"I'm not asking you to." Seokjin says, walking closer. "But think about it. What about her is making you feel like this the most?" He urges.

The fear you have. The fact you forgot him. The terror in your eyes. The emptiness you represent.

"Jungkook, you told me once that back then, she was the only thing keeping you sane in that place." The man says, white ears twitching between his hair. "And she can become just that once again."

"Have you seen her?" Jungkook growls.

"Have you?" Jin challenges. "You're in a place of power here. You call the shots, this-" He gestures around. "-all of this is yours. You offer us protection, a home, a place to let our guard down for once. You're not who you were before. You turned your life around- and you can do it again, but this time, it'll be her's." He says, and suddenly, Jungkook understands what his friend is trying to tell him.

This is his place. His territory. He's in charge. He's in control.

Nothing will ever return to what it once was.

Because he'll be the change it needs to turn this twisted joke around.

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"Remember, he's nothing to be scared of." Yoongi tells you, before he opens the door, and gently pushes you inside by your lower back- before he leaves you alone with the tiger hybrid in the room, no longer wearing his jacket, only dressed in a casually unbuttoned black shirt and slacks.

Even his gun is on the table. You could take it at any moment, shoot him, no problem. You know how to shoot a gun. Is he that stupid?

Probably not. There has to be a reason for his actions- you don't think he got to his position by being reckless.

He moves slowly, a lot more confident and most of all relaxed than when you last saw him- the person he is right in this moment a stark contrast to who he'd been when he first saw you. It makes you suspicious, unsure, because if he houses so many different versions of himself inside his body, how could you ever know who the real one is?

"The rules in this house, and under my hand, are simple." He says, voice surprisingly calm as he speaks. "Loyalty." He states, looks at you- and from the fact alone that he doesn't seem to mind, you guess that Yoongi was right when he said that you were allowed to do that. "As long as you don't betray me, I will offer you a safe place, and protection."

That doesn't make sense to you.

If that was true, that would mean that he'd just take in random people just because they don't snitch on him- what the hell would he even get out of that? Inside the Golden House, there were already rumors about him. That he's possessed by the drive to 'change the game' and put hybrids up on top, an odd way to live since apparently he'd escaped this entire circus years prior. Why would he willingly return to it?

Even worse, play the game he barely managed to get out of?

He sits down on the edge of his bed, and only now do you realize where exactly you might be right now. And it confuses you even more. He's letting you into his personal rooms?

Why?

"Come here." He says, and your legs move without any of your control. Like a puppet on a string you're pulled towards him, unable to really go against any orders told to you, like you're mind controlled. The moment you stand in front of him, he reaches out his hand- and you're torn by the possible choice given to you. But if he reaches out, you're supposed to take the hand, right?

Instead, you put your own in his, not making a decision at all.

Control is a scary thing. You don't want it.

He looks at your wrist as he turns your hand over, thumb running over the signature branding you have on your skin, burned in scar never fading. It's when you can spot something on the hand that holds yours, between all the ink and color he's placed underneath the skin. A scar, achingly similar to your own.

Your eyes find his- but he's not looking at you.

So he's from the same place as you once were. Is that why he smells so familiar? Did you forget him? Or did you never know him at all, and simply caught traces of him during your time at the Golden House?

Who is he?

"From now on, you're mine." He tells you, and you soak up that info like a sponge. "You belong here, and nowhere else." He says, and you nod to make sure he knows that you understand. There's a small moment where he simply looks at you, before he nods as well, and lets go of your hand. "Can you write?" He asks, and you eagerly nod, finally expecting a task from him. You'll be useful, you'll have something to do- you won't just have to stand around and wait for something that never happens. "Good. That gives me at least some way you can talk to me, I guess." He mumbles to himself as he gets up and walks past you, to dig around in a small drawer of a desk close by. "I want you to talk. If not with your voice-" He offers a small, palm sized notebook to you, a pen clipped to it's side. "-then with this."

You take the booklet with a nod, opening it to write something down. He expects a thank you- but that's not what he gets.

'What is my purpose here?' you've written, and he sighs to himself.

"Heal." He says, making you look at him confused. You're already starting to show a lot more emotions he notices, and it calms him down quite a bit, because that means that even though you may have forgotten him, you're at least slowly adapting to the overall environment you're now in. You move to write something again, before you hold out the booklet.

'There has to be a job for me.' you write, and he tilts his head at you, arms crossed, veins clear under his forearms, exposed since he'd rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

"And I just told you what it is." He responds, face expressionless, but eyes glimmering with something almost mischievous. "Your job is to heal, adjust, and adapt to the way I run things." He tells you. "But if you want a.. job, I can try and arrange something for you." He huffs, dissatisfied, but still caving in.

You show him the opened page again, something added to the bottom.

'Thank you' is written there.

He just nods, and knocks on his door to give Namjoon the sign to take you to your room so you can sleep- and leave him by himself for a moment, as he watches the calm night-sky from his window, world steadily moving on while he doesn't know what's to come for him.

Even if Seokjin is right, there is no guarantee that this whole thing won't just backfire horribly. And there's still the looming threat of someone amongst his people who's currently the biggest danger to the house of cards Jungkook had barely built up over the years until now. If that person just so much as pushes one more card, it might all come falling down-

and this time, he'll take you with him.

If he dies, you can't survive.

Because if you do, you'll probably face a fate he doesn't even want to imagine.

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