#but nothing will ever piss me off as people trying to claim he was trying to help danzou

[sealer-of-wenkamui]

Nothing makes me want to get started on my whole writeup about Limbo like having to see dumbass opinions about him, people really want him to be an innocent monster (he’s not. He. He very much did behead Seimei out of envy after copying his texts he got from Hakudou. He did this by having an affair with his wife. Also Seimei was drunk at that time too. The very first page he appears on describes him as violent and arrogant. This is a story from 1662…. He does not have the innocent monster skill and Shikibu also calls the living Douman monstrous… if anything, Salieri, an actual innocent monster was warped into being more like Douman, even though he did not have the sort of envious enough to kill relationship with Mozart like Douman did with Seimei in the least)

I’m almost at the end of the Douman chapters of Abe no Seimei Monogatari (1662) I should probably summarize them cause they give a lot of context for why he’s Like That

[rainingincale]

Should i just unfollow my ex-mp, because ngl I feel like im just torturing myself at this point

(Im seriously asking and you should tell me yes)

[jeanbie]

FANTASIZE ★ masterlist.

pairing: jake x reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, fem!human!reader, semi-public sex, piv sex, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, breeding kink, cumming inside, glowy cum | wc: 16k | ♬

note: i've been promoted to: avatar writer. my first time writing for it (def not my last!) lemme know what u think ;-) also his smirk in the header....GET INSIDE ME

★ ⏤ fantasize | all the time (if you were mine)

⏤ It's official - Jake is sick and tired of Norm giving him shit. While he can't claim to know as much about Pandora as Norm does, there's still a few things Jake can afford to do to piss him off even more for the fun of it, and it just so happens that Norm's sister works as a scientist in the lab - which to Jake spells perfect revenge in its simplest form.

It’s official — Jake has had enough of Norm’s bitching and whining.

For the last two months, Jake has endured a lot, more than he ever asked for or wanted; whether it was Neytiri on his ass about becoming an Omatikaya and never missing a single beat of training for it, Grace nagging him about video logs, or even Norm giving him so much shit over every single thing he didn’t spend three years learning in simulations and classrooms — he’s sat and listened to all of it without complaint. 

Jake has never once fought back, never once raised his own grievances about how tedious and time-consuming everything actually is on one man’s shoulders, and yet it all keeps coming.

The worst thing is that he can understand all of it to an extent. There’s a necessary need for attentiveness when learning the ways of the Omatikaya, and the longer it takes, the worse his chances get with the rest of the clan. The video logs? They’re not that important, Jake thinks, but it keeps Grace off his back for the small kernel of time he actually spends in the real world and not inside of his avatar. 

But with Norm, Jake can’t seem to understand what is actually bothering him enough to be so goddamn bitter about every little thing.

Of course, he’ll never fit into Tom’s shoes, not in the way everybody expects him to. He didn’t spend three years of his life learning how to control an avatar or how to function on Pandora — every day is quite literally a learning experience, a practical education that neither a lab nor a stuck up prick like Norm can teach. 

And, while he’s on the subject, Jake actually thought Norm would be a decent ally, at least until he almost died and got saved — with reluctance — by the daughter of the Olo’eyktan and somehow ended up being thrust into learning their way of life. 

Nobody seems to remember the giant part of the story concerning how he almost got devoured by an oversized dog in the process.

Instead, Norm wants to bitch about how Jake knows nothing, and treats him like a genuine idiot. Jake might be a few years short of being educated on the Na’vi, but he’s not stupid. He can still do stuff, stuff that Norm can’t; but reasoning with the man is like trying to convince the Na’vi that the Sky People are actually friends and not foes, and it’s pretty obvious that that’s never going to happen.

When Norm begins his daily ritual of berating Jake on his lack-of knowledge regarding the Hallelujah Mountains that surround their shitty little containment, Jake’s willing to sit through it and take it like a champion. 

Norm starts weaving his conspiracies to the cluster of scientists about how Jake is a terrible candidate for joining the Omatikaya clan and that all he cares about is sucking up to the Chief’s daughter — not true, by the way, for Neytiri can only stomach being near Jake because she has to and on rare occasions, he can do something absurdly dumb to make her laugh — and Jake begins to mentally tap out of the debate, rolling his eyes to the side and sighing as he watches you duck your head through a low archway with a bowl of slop in your hands.

Jake watches you for around three seconds before the lightbulb flickers alight above his head.

And then he grins.

It’s hard to believe that you and Norm are related — Jake can’t find any similarities between the two of you. You’re incredibly compassionate and communicative, never letting Jake suffer in his silent struggle of stupidity, and not to mention you’re incredibly beautiful; whereas Norm is just… Norm. A bitter, angry, red-faced man who does a piss poor job at hiding his insatiable jealousy of how wasting your life in a classroom or behind a book actually means very little in the grand scheme of achieving your goals. 

Example A: Jake of the Jarhead clan, ex-military, future Omatikaya. Cross-reference to Norm: sad loser. Jake signs his name on the mental essay he’s compiling as Norm drones on about culture and ignorance and narrows his gaze on you as you close in on the group.

Jake’s actually always liked you. You’re a no nonsense kind of woman who loves science and the Na’vi, and, unlike your brother, you actually treat him like an equal. Even now, as you slip next to him and lean back against the low metal work-surface, you meet Jake’s gaze with an eye-roll and smile, and his grin only widens from it.

Oh, how he loves that you like him. Although you spend so much time engrossed in your work and documenting on paper whatever Jake recites from his daily activities within the clan, Jake happens to know that you like him, and in hindsight, it’s never been a secret. For the first time, Jake lets himself consider the possibility of that being just another reason for Norm to suddenly despise him, but the idea warms his stomach rather than churns it.

“I can totally see Jake ruining all of our chances at building bridges by just burning them all together,” Norm huffs, folding his arms and wrangling a dirty glare in his direction. Jake welcomes it with the same smile that’s been blooming over his face for the past two minutes, which worsens Norm’s mood. 

“I don’t see you building any bridges, either,” you say to Norm. “Jake’s been more valuable to this program than you have as of late.”

Norm bristles. “One of us has actually been doing research while the other is trying to seduce an Olo’eyktan’s daughter—”

“Jake’s doing field research, Norm,” Grace says, her eyes still glued to her microscope. “And he knows better than to seduce anybody when we haven’t properly studied the relations between Na’vi and avatars yet. And there are bigger issues at stake right now.”

“I can get results on that if you want me to,” Jake offers.

“No, Jake.”

Jake shrugs. While Norm continues his tirade against Jake’s rather noble endeavours with the Omatikaya, he turns his gaze back towards you and lets his mental clogs turn.

At this point, Jake thinks that even if you agreed with some of Norm’s points, it wouldn’t make any difference. There is absolutely nothing he can do to please Norm, and so maybe he should just stop trying. Then again… There’s something hideously funny in how worked up Norm gets when somebody jumps to his defence, particularly you.

And considering most of Norm’s insecurities come from seeds he planted all by himself without any concrete evidence to support most of the points, Jake knows that anything he does from here on out will drive Norm into a slow burning insanity.

“Is it because I’m in a wheelchair?” Jake asks suddenly.

Norm huffs. “Of course not. It’s because you don’t take any of this seriously. Everything is a game to you. All of us here have spent years building up to this assignment while you read a manual and called it a day.”

“What? I’m serious. I’m one of the best avatar drivers here,” Jake says smugly. Grace finally looks over with an irate look — something tells him he wasn’t supposed to tell everyone that she had told him that. 

Norm’s face turns a whole new shade of pink. 

“I’m also a quick learner. The Omatikaya are trusting me more and more each day, so while I go out there and find out valuable field research for this program—” Jake looks at you with a deliberately sweet look and you laugh quietly, “—you can stay here and look at plants and mud and cells.”

“You probably don’t even know what a cell is.”

“Sure I do. Where they lock up all the bad guys.”

Norm opens his mouth to say something more, probably missing the joke like he does every time, but this time Grace swirls in her chair and sighs loudly, looking between the two of them like they were children.

“Alright, ladies, you’ve measured your dicks at equal length. You’re both doing good work around here, so Norm, why don’t you just let Jake go back to doing his work with the Omatikaya and you can just get some rest. Jesus, you’re both making everyone miserable, it’s affecting my work ethic…”

“Yeah, sweet dreams, Norm,” Jake calls, and Norm gives him a filthy scowl before snatching his things up off the desk, holding them secretively to his chest as he stomps towards the back room lined with their bunks. 

Jake feels the dark and evil energy follow him out the room and then he finally looks around the lab in disbelief. 

“Jake, go, you’ll be late, don’t keep Neytiri waiting,” Grace reminds him, switching off the bulb to the microscope and stretching her arms as Trudy claps her hands and silently announces her retirement to the bunks after Norm. “Don’t forget to make a log when you get back. Don’t let him forget, will you, Spellman?”

Grace looks at you with a look that suggests no room for negotiation. It was an order. She collects her things, claps Jake on the shoulder and grabs a cigarette from the net by the archway and takes it with her towards her separated bedroom. 

When the door to her little cubicle rattles shut, Jake shakes his head with a quiet laugh and rolls himself forward, giving you room to assemble your own work station where he had just been.

“Staying up late tonight?” he asks you, taking a swig of water before pushing one of the buttons to the link unit, waiting as it whirs to life.

You settle your stuff down and walk towards him. “Yep. I actually do have some work on cells to finish up.”

Jake’s lips quirk. “Not your usual ballpark, is it?”

“No, but there’s not really a surplus of Na’vi around here to communicate with,” you say in reply, rummaging with the unit to help Jake into the gel pack mattress. Usually he dismisses the help, but when it’s you helping him get comfy, then he’ll stomach his pride and accept your kindness. He’s surprisingly light, as normal, and you frown. 

“Don’t forget about the real world, Jake, you gotta take care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I got this,” he assures you. “You need anything while I’m out?”

Another thing that will shave a few years off Norm’s life — Jake bringing you things, extraordinary and otherwise unattainable when stranded in the mountains things for you to study and report. You hum thoughtfully at the offer, pushing his head down softly when he wriggles restlessly, a little to eager to get to whatever he’s doing in the forest tonight.

“If you happen to cross paths with a tsawksyul, a simple cutting would be appreciated,” you tell him, opting for something a little more simple than normal, considering Jake’s busy these days training. “If you don’t forget while you’re busy seducing daughters, of course.”

Jake’s grin returns, if not out of genuine amusement then just to see you smile in return and do the little head-tilt thing that Jake’s discovered he adores.

“Not my thing. More into scientists,” he tells you, watching in the final moments before you shut him in the pod at how you shake your head and turn yourself away from him.

There was no rejection. No refusal. Just a smile.

A smile that sets his plan into motion.

No wonder Norm is always in a terrible mood. You find that his notes on the cells found in the mossy undergrowth of the forest is as chaotic as it can possibly be, which has left you using Grace’s Bible on Pandora botany as a guide and squinting to find the connections between his barely legible notes.

It’s basic knowledge that when cells die and a genetic material begins to unfold, a charge of energy is released; this concept has been the fundamental structural point to Norm’s notes on the moss and how each step at night causes a ricochet of expanding light, but there has to be something more than everybody is missing. Even in Grace’s book, there’s not enough information regarding how it works; if it’s connected to Eywa, if it is a response to another organism, whether it breathes and lives as its own entity.

Alongside Norm’s notes, you very sparingly begin to make an analysis of the communicative features of Pandora plant life, and begin jotting a vocabulary to use in a later research assignment, when a sudden knock against the glass above your head makes you jump quite literally up and out of your seat.

The Hallelujah Mountains are so isolated from the rest of the human population on Pandora and used rarely by the Na’vi during the night, but you distinctly make out Jake’s looming form standing outside with a smile on his face and relax. His skin is a bioluminescent explosion of colour, and for a moment you’re struck dumb staring at him until he waves his hand as if beckoning you outside.

You throw a cautious look over your shoulder, but the lab is silent and still. With that in mind, you reach for one of the exo-packs and shrug on your cardigan hanging on the back of the chair you were just on and hesitantly begin to make your way outside.

Very sparingly have you been outside of Site 26 to explore, and never once on your own. Grace has drilled into you the strict importance of respecting the laboratory rules and curfew, and if you’re going to wander outside after hours in the name of research, then please, wake her up too. 

But you won’t be alone out there, not when Jake is waiting for you outside.

Jake drops to a squat in anticipation when the airlock doors to the lab force open with a wheezy breath, and he sees you cautiously step out and secure a button on your cardigan in place. The gesture almost makes him croon. He rarely sees you at night since he’s learned the value of getting rest in between his adventures in his avatar, but now he can’t believe what he’s been missing out on seeing past his bedtime.

You look tired, your hair out of place and messy, but he recognises your attempt to look more alert when you step towards him with a slight bounce.

“Hey, tìyawn,” he calls to you, as you stare up at him even whilst drawing near. Thanks to the crouch, you’re about eye-to-eye, and he watches your expression widen with wonder as you map out the illustrations of light across his nose and cheeks, before sweeping to his forehead, then his neck, and then his bare chest.

“Hey, yourself,” you laugh, finding his eyes again as they glow in the low light. The Pandora skies are littered with stars and balls of unimaginable white light, but even the surrounding forest gathering around the lab to protect it from the harsh dropping winds of the mountains are pulsing with purple light, every single shrub and leaf and plant glowing with life.

Jake stares at you for a moment before producing a gift from behind his leg. You take it from him with a wide and gasping smile.

“No way!”

“Way,” Jake says, watching you handle the flower with so much care that one might assume it would break with your touch. With the way Jake was swinging it around on his way up here, he’s actually shocked that it’s still in one piece, but something in the way you respond to everything Jake does or brings tells him that even if he’d brought a portion of it, you’d be just as pleased.

“Thanks,” you say, turning slightly as you tell him you’re going to put the tsawksyul in the lab for safe-keeping. But Jake reaches his arm out to trap you from leaving, cocking his head to the side with a soft smirk when you round back on him curiously.

“It’s not gonna die if you leave it out here, it’s a flower,” Jake tells you, jerking his head in another direction. “Wanna look around with me?”

You pause, and he can tell you’re genuinely conflicted. Grace said not to leave the vicinity under any circumstances out of respect for the Na’vi and the lab rules. But she also said not to go outside without her, and here you are.

“Grace will be mad if she finds out I’m gone,” you tell him slowly.

“Probably.”

“And Norm.”

Jake feels a rush of something at the mere mention of your brother, and his tail swishes against the rocks behind him. 

Jake leans closer to you. “Well, him I don’t care about.”

Mindful of the plant in your hand, you gently push Jake’s chest back until he rolls on his heels, unable to fight the smile on your own face.

“…Where will we be going? I can’t go far just in case Grace wakes up and comes looking for me.”

Jake tilts his head up to the sky and to the top of the mountain peak that houses the lab. From his own experience scouting up there, Jake knows there’s a small incubation of trees that offers a compelling view of the entire mountain range, as well as offering a minor collection of plants he thinks you’ll die over once you see.

But that just wouldn’t be as evil as what he originally had planned. He then rolls his head towards the small section of trees that border the back of the lab, close to where the bunks are, and he then looks back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“We’ll stay close,” Jake promises. 

You hesitate once again and guiltily look at the lab. It’s not like it’s going anywhere…

“Alright,” you sigh, looking back at Jake and watching his smile widen as if he’s just obtained a great victory. There’s no room in your stomach for suspicion to grow — it’s overrun with butterflies when Jake points his head in the direction of the snug tree line and holds out his finger for you. 

You stifle a laugh and reach to hold it, setting the tsawksyul on the ground tucked under the same window he just scared you from and join him on the slow walk to wherever he means to take you.

Being with Jake has always felt easy, but being with Jake’s avatar is practically uncharted territory. It’s a struggle to remember that it is actually the same man you like so badly back in the lab, the same guy who deliberately rams your ankles with his wheelchair just to watch the way you catch yourself as you fall, the same guy who you think uses you as a factor to piss off your brother but in a way that you find strangely attractive. 

Now, he’s an almost ten foot Na’vi leading you in the whimsical dark towards a cluster of trees, and you don’t know how to begin separating the feelings you have for Jake from the feeling of nerves you feel around his alter ego.

You can barely make out Jake’s face all the way above your head, not until he feels your stare and looks down at you beside him. There’s a similarity in his human expressions with his Na’vi ones, which is fortunate considering there was a time where you thought the avatar looked more like Tom than it did Jake. Now that they’re one in the same, and now that Jake is in front of you in his avatar form and the feelings you have for him are still lingering, you’re beginning to accept the likeness between the two of them. 

“What did you do today?” you ask him, referring to his ritualistic training with Neytiri.

Jake hums thoughtfully. “Nothing compared to Norm, I’m sure.”

At that, you laugh. “I’m seriously asking, Jake.”

“Alright… Neytiri has me reading the signals of the forest whenever we go hunting,” he explains sparingly, seeming not in the mood to talk training now that you’ve reached the lay of forest near the back of the lab. He surveys the setting and the space between the lab and the fringe of leaves and bushes and nods, as if satisfied but then pulls you deeper into the thrush of leaves.

“She says everything’s connected,” he continues. “She also says I’m a terrible shooter.”

“You’re missing your shots?” you tease. Jake turns back to you with a grin that you honestly walked into when you asked.

“Not all of ‘em.”

After the short walk, Jake is finally satisfied with the burrow of bushes and rocks that outline the small selection of forest behind the lab, and he looks up to once again gauge the distance and is pleased when the lab doesn’t look too far away. Jake hears you rustle and sit on one of the low rocks with your knees to your chest, and then drops to his usual squat in front of you, arms rested on his knees, gently fiddling with his fingers.

“How’re your cells?” he asks, but you’re so busy gazing at the forest around you and the stars above your heads that he fears you’re not even listening. Jake instead settles for watching you.

He knows he’s in over in his head when even his avatar likes you. Jake’s had nowhere near as much experience navigating his way around how to use this body than the other drivers, let alone time to understand the signals his body sends him or the feelings different things have to him, but he can tell the difference between being you friendly and not, even when he’s not totally familiar with how it all works. And on top of that, there are so many random variables to being Na’vi to get his head around that he never even thought of until Neytiri or Grace filled him in on what the hell was going on with his body at certain times of the month.

He’s stupid sometimes, true, but not totally naive. Jake recognises the tug in his chest as he looks at you — he feels the same thing when he’s in his human body. He’s no expert on Na’vi, never claimed to be, but he feels there must be something instinctive in the way he feels for you and the way his avatar senses it. And with Norm’s fresh-faced hatred in full flush whenever Jake makes that fact known, he’s not at all surprised that those feelings have suddenly become so full frontal now that he’s had enough of Norm’s bullshit.

“It’s amazing out here,” you say, to Jake but also to the wind as you completely crane your head up to look through the cracks in the branches and leaves. “Don’t you ever wish Earth had looked like this?”

“I haven’t really thought about Earth since I left,” he confesses, shuffling closer to you while you’re occupied with mapping out the stars in the sky.

“Not once?” You look down at him. If you’re taken aback by the sudden closeness between you, you hide it well. 

Jake shrugs. “Nothing I need is there.”

Fair enough. You stare at him for a moment and think about that before agreeing. 

“Me too.”

The branches above your heads sway in a gentle breeze and Jake watches you hug your cardigan around yourself before asking, “So, why’re we here? Did you wanna show me something?”

“What, the stars not enough for you?” Jake looks up to the sky.

You laugh quietly. “I’ll never get enough of them, actually. Beats the lab ceiling by a long shot. Looking at the stars through the window’s not the same… I wish I didn’t have to use this mask—” You throw him a playfully exasperated look, “—I wish I had an avatar.”

“Why don’t you?” Jake’s never asked, never thought to ask. But you’re the only scientist in his close collective of scientist ‘friends’ who doesn’t actually drive an avatar, and is instead limited to just studying everyone else's.

“It was never really my thing,” you explain, settling comfortably atop the rock and throwing the glances to the sky away to focus on him. Like the lab, they’re not going anywhere, and the ones tattooing Jake’s skin are far more interesting. “Okay, that’s a lie. I think the avatars are fascinating, just like the Na’vi, but sometimes you take what you’re given when you’re given it. Norm has always had to be better than I am, always one step ahead. Plus, our inheritance only stretched as far as to cover the contract costs of one avatar driver.” You laugh, “And Norm’s older.”

“Damn, so we just got stuck with Norm,” Jake comments, only to make you laugh again, which thankfully works. “I’d have a better time out here if it were you and not him.”

“He’s actually very insecure about that,” you tell him, watching his amusement grow without knowing the exact reasons for why. “He always goes on about how your avatar is much more built. I guess Tom was just more athletic and the avatar reflects it, I don’t think Norm’s used so much as an elliptical since high school… Anyway, he’s very vocal on how unfair the avatar program is in that regard.”

“You agree with him?”

Jake’s fingers ghost across your ankle.

“One: he’s my brother, and I’m not going to answer that question honestly. And two: let’s not forget who the avatar is modelled off. Tom was very handsome.”

“Growing up, I was always the pretty twin.”

You hum. “I couldn’t tell.”

Jake’s never ever considered the fact of you knowing his brother well before he died. He’s never had to think about it before, not until now, but he pushes the thought away and falls back into the thoughts of what he came here to do in the first place.

“You don’t think I’m handsome?”

He watches your grin widen. “I didn’t say that, did I?”

Jake creeps forward slightly, and this time you notice, moving your toes back further towards your bum on the rock while Jake continues his close creeping. 

“I think you’re a very pretty woman,” Jake murmurs. “Beautiful, even.”

“Norm’s not here to get mad at you for saying that,” you remind him.

“‘m not saying it for Norm to hear.”

You feel Jake’s hand sliding to wrap around your ankle and you shudder when he smooths his way up to your calf. You’ve never interacted with any Na’vi like this before, never felt their skin pushing against your own. With a glance down at his hand, you frown and work your way back up to his face, his eyes lit up in the dark.

“It’s not fair that you’re using your avatar against me right now,” you mutter, making him laugh through his nose and bring his body closer to the round edge of the rock. He considers it progress when you remain rooted in place once his hands run up the length of your legs to your waist.

You watch his nostrils flare slightly as he observes you, which only makes you feel more nervous and trapped here.

“All I’m doing is talking,” says Jake.

You scoff at him. “Does all your talking involve hands on the waist, Sully?”

He shrugs. “Only with really pretty people.”

Jake’s ears prick when you sigh and look back up at the stars. He doesn’t move his hands, but he senses your body tensing beneath his touch, smells the change in your body as he speaks. He’d love that part of being Na’vi a lot more if he knew what those changes meant exactly, and he can’t figure it out even as he stares at you intently.

His thumbs smooth from left to right, feeling the nub of your ribcage with every stroke over your tank top and tries to level his face into one of absolute neutrality when you look back down at him. 

“What are you doing, Jake?”

Not what he was expecting you to say, if he’s being honest.

“Nothing,” he says.

“You’re being weird,” you reply, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. It has the opposite effect, and you watch him struggle not to smile. His hairline raises when his brows do, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes when you figure him out, “Did you actually bring me out here just to flirt with me?”

He does nothing except look at you, as if the answer is painfully obvious and you’re stupid for not realising it sooner.

You sigh loudly. “Jake, I’m sorry that you didn’t get the memo like everybody else, but you didn’t need to lure me out the lab in your avatar if you wanted to get my attention.”

His thumb continues to move and his eyes drop slightly.

“I wouldn’t say I lured you out here,” Jake replies. You watch his eyes zero back in on yours and you fight your body against the urge to wrap up and hide from him. 

“You can’t be that stupid, I refuse to believe it,” you laugh disbelievingly, which makes him raise his brows questioningly. Even with a layer of plastic obstructing your face from his, Jake can’t get over how pretty you look. “You have to know that I like you even when you’re not a big blue alien.”

Jake’s grin widens, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “I know. You’re really bad at hiding it.”

“Okay,” you say, feeling under your cardigan for his hands and attempting to wrestle them away, but he doesn’t budge. You laugh again, as if the whole thing is genuinely funny for you, “then you can always make your thoughts about that known when I see you in the lab. In person.”

“I’m not doing anything I wouldn’t in there if I had the chance,” Jake tells you, moving his hands but only to sandwich them between your tank and your skin. The feeling of his palms flat against your stomach makes you jump slightly and reach for his wrist. 

“Please. I see you every single day.”

“Yeah, and your brother, and Grace, and Trudy,” Jake points out. “I can’t get a second alone with you. What would you have me do, make a move with your brother breathing down my neck about it?”

“You could just be upfront. Save me from looking like an idiot.”

“Come on, baby, let’s be real.”

The smile he has on his face is unmoving, and you search every corner of it to find signs of his sincerity falling and find nothing. But something feels wrong.

You’ve spent close to two months in the long shadow drawn by everything else in Jake’s life, and considering Jake’s newfound role of future Omatikaya warrior, you feel that the time he spends in your company has become less and less. So now that Jake has decided to pick up on whatever signals you were sending him and respond to them, you assume it’s all in the name of good fun to piss off Norm.

Feeling Jake’s hands creeping up your body in the middle of the Hallelujah Mountains and with no older brother here to glare at either of you, you’re rethinking everything you thought you had figured out.

“I don’t get it,” you say finally. 

Jake just laughs quietly. “You thought I just rammed my wheelchair into your feet for fun?”

“You mean to tell me that was your way of showing interest?” you ask unconvincingly.

“…Nah. I liked watching you fall, though,” he grins. Jake picks himself up from his squat and looms over you like a shadow, watching you fall back onto your forearms as you stare up at him. He sets one knee between your legs and leans down slightly, breathing in deeply in a way that has you thinking he’s actually sniffing the air around you. 

“Honey, I’m all kinds of obsessed with you.”

You blink. “You certainly gave nothing away.”

“I bring you shit all the time.”

“I’m a scientist, I didn’t know you did that because you liked me. I thought it was just because I wanted better samples than Norm.”

“I mean, that definitely helped motivate me to find everything.”

“You never even told me you liked me.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“Okay, well, tell me tomorrow when you’re awake and not all…big,” you frown. 

Jake chuckles. “You don’t like me now, or something?”

“I definitely never said that. I just want to hear human Jake Sully tell me how he feels without using his avatar to try and win me over.” 

Jake’s tail swishes behind him. “You prefer the dummy in the wheelchair?”

“I like your wheelchair,” you tell him quietly, running your hand up his arm as he pins you flat against the boulder with a hand on your stomach. 

“I don’t,” he murmurs. “I like being like this. I like being bigger than you. I like smelling how much you like me.”

All of a sudden, your legs swing shut around him and you look at him in disbelief.

“Freak.”

All he does is smile. 

“Come on, Jake, I actually don’t have time for this,” you say around a groan, trying to move against him but failing miserably. An exasperated smile falls on your face. “Really? What are you even trying to achieve? You’re seducing me with your avatar?”

His ears twitch and he angles his head to the side. “Yes?”

“Why am I getting the impression that all of this has something to do with Norm somehow?” you sigh in reply, but Jake notices the way you fall relaxed underneath him, and he has the feeling you’re in no real hurry to get anywhere else tonight. 

“Well, it might have something to do with it,” Jake confesses, his voice lower than it was before as he draws his nose close to you and takes a deep inhale. The feeling of his braid flicking down from his back and brushing against your thighs makes you shudder, not to mention the feeling of his snout against your collarbones. “Really, I just want to spend some time with my girl while I got the chance to.”

Whatever you want to say or have planned to say dies away when you feel Jake’s lips wander and press against your sternum. 

Sighing, you shift your hands to his arms that have you pinned down and carefully squeeze. “Good luck with that, Sully.”

He runs his tongue flat against your skin and hears you exhale through your nose, a noise of satisfaction muffled by your closed mouth, and all at once, Jake’s decision is final.

He is going to fuck Norm’s sister. 

And he’s going to rub salt on Norm’s wounds by doing it in the way that will piss him off the most.

Jake kisses his way down the length of your body, his hands moving around your figure like a sculptor until his hands find their way to your thighs. Though oversized and covering most of them, Jake’s hands circle around the width of your thighs and he strokes his thumbs across the inside skin of them, all while laughter bubbles in your chest.

All of this is just so absurd. If someone had told you this morning that Jake so much as liked you back, it would have taken some convincing, but if they had gone as far as to suggest he’s be attempting to seduce you in his avatar in a little chunk of forest behind the lab you pretty much live in, you would have laughed at the delusion of the thought. But now, there’s no denying the very tangible view of Jake’s Na’vi hands pressing down on your thighs, his eyes staring up over the slope of your body as you pick your head up to look down at him.

“This is crazy,” you gasp.

Jake’s teeth reveal themselves against the stretch of skin he was just pressing kisses onto, his smile widening as he speaks. “You don’t want to, baby?”

You weigh your options. It’s either leave and go back to the lab and hope that Jake follows through on his apparent feelings for you in the morning… Or you can relax and enjoy.

“Jake…” You pause for a moment. You want to enjoy it, and you feel the pool of desire deepen inside of you and know it’s a sensation Jake can most likely smell. 

He’s still your Jake, still the same guy you dote over when he remembers he has a life outside of being Na’vi. The only difference now is that he’s blue, and mobile, and double your size in every definition of the word. And suspiciously attractive, but you don’t know for certain if you think that because it’s Jake or because it’s actually true as a fact. But you just can’t help but wonder if Jake’s climaxing feud with Norm is the only reason he’s pinning you to a boulder in the forest and kissing your stomach. 

“You’re not just doing this to piss off Norm, are you?” you ask, feeling serious all of a sudden. The only way you know Jake notices is from the way his ears flatten against his head and his eyes grow round with concern. 

In the light, his tail flicks from side to side in the way you recognise most Na’vi do when they’re nervous, and you fight the urge to look away from him when he stays quiet for a second, thinking of what to say in a loud silence.

Of course he’s doing this because he knows it will piss Norm off if and when he finds out. As soon as Norm catches a stinking whiff of Jake on your body when he’s in his own avatar surveying the mountains, there will be nowhere for Jake to run or roll off to and avoid Norm’s volcanic rage. But he knows as well that this is a long time coming — that he’s been chasing circles around your feet for the fun of it, and now the chance has come for him to bring what he’s buried to the surface and shape it into something more.

Jake very carefully thinks of what to say. “Knowing that if I fuck you right now it will piss off your insanely annoying brother makes me want to do it more. But if the only reason I was fucking you was to piss him off, then I’d be doing it in front of him.”

Your brows raise. 

“Okay, that came out wrong,” Jake says quickly. “My point is… I go crazy thinking about you. And everything I think about doing to you can be made possible when I’m, as you said, all big.”

“But… Norm—”

Jake groans, all smiles. “Oh my god, can we please stop bringing up your brother for a sec? It’s a huge turn off.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any sexier, either,” you point out, “but I’m just thinking—”

“Don’t think,” Jake tells you. “This is the one time you don’t have to think about anything at all except for how you’d like me to take care of you.”

Jake returns his face to your stomach as you blink furiously, a flustered feeling creeping up over your body at the bluntness of his words. If you thought he was playing around, you’re officially convinced when his hands tighten around your thighs and he spreads them apart, pinning them down against the boulder he’s made your bed for the night. You inhale a deep breath when Jake’s thumbs dip underneath your shorts, bunched around your inner thighs.

“I suppose it would be like killing two birds with one stone…”

Jake laughs against your skin. “Jesus Christ, Spellman, quit talking so much. Who knew you were such a yapper?”

“Am not,” you protest.

You shudder when he plants another kiss on your abdomen, pings the fabric of your shorts back against your skin with a sharp sting and he grunts with a nod.

“Okay,” Jake agrees, his ears high and tail swishing playfully. “Now take off your cardigan.”

Still watching Jake on your forearms as he hooks his fingers around the waistline of your shorts in an effort to pull them down, you wrangle a sigh of protest and lift your lower body up for him, all whilst reaching for the buttons on the front of your cardigan. 

You breathe heavily as you mumble, “Do you really need to take off all my clothes, Sully?”

“One of us is halfway there, honey, and it’s not you,” replies Jake. His golden eyes watch with intent as he pulls the shorts down the expanse of your legs with your underwear in tow. As you shudder with the breeze fanning between your legs, Jake takes a big inhale and stares.

He barely moves an inch once the shorts and panties are in a bunch around your feet, but you busy yourself by sweeping a look at Jake’s own attire, or striking lack of. Between his legs hangs his tewng, a simple and sparsely intricate item of clothing that leaves little to imagination when it comes to what is growing between his thighs. 

It’s standard attire for the Omatikaya, but you’ve never seen it up close, and never on Jake himself. It hits you then that he’s still in his entire hunting gear, as if he finished up with Neytiri and brought himself here right away.

Jake’s thighs clench as he finally moves, readjusting his footing in his dropped squat; to him, this position has become as natural as breathing, but you stare at his thighs bulging and wonder how he’s not in agony from it alone.

Jake looks up at you after his allocated time spent analysing the spot growing wet between your legs and you gulp, feeling almost nervous. 

“Well, you’re gonna be an Omatikaya soon. One of the consequences is wearing your little g-string everywhere.”

His head leans to the side as his amusement grows. “It’s called a tewng, genius.”

That makes you laugh, and say in a melodic and sweet tone, “I know.”

But Jake bites back with the same sweet tone as you and says, “Then shut up,” and you comply. It’s the least you can do for him when he smooths his big hands back between your legs and up close to your cunt.

Pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee, Jake inches his hands further, relishing in a deep breath as he returns to staring at the spot just inches from his fingers. From his perspective, you are hideously tiny; given the obvious lack of research on Na’vi and human sexual relations, Jake isn’t totally sure you’ll be able to withstand what he wants to give you.

Worth a try, though.

Jake’s chest rises and falls as he stares in wonder at your pussy, the scent divinely pronounced, and he runs one of his fingers between your folds and up, collecting the juices on his finger as he rounds your clit in a rather observational manner. 

You bristle, your legs instinctively trying to close — all the good it does, as Jake pushes them back open. His eyes flicker back up to yours, as if assessing his next steps, before he lowers his mouth to your cunt and without doing you the kind service of looking away, stares at you as he spreads his tongue flat between your folds.

His actions earn him a strangled moan of pleasure, and his ears twitch in satisfaction. The feeling of his tongue against you is strangely addicting, rough and soft at the same time, warm and wet and enough for your hips to lift. 

“Jake…” You gasp, feeling your eyes close, half with the pleasure of it all and also sheer embarrassment. 

Like a predator watching its prey, Jake never looks away from your face and the way it twists, your jaw hanging open as he licks your cunt. With the size of his head alone, his tongue virtually covers every corner of your pussy with no difficulty, leaving you with no untouched itch, no ignored stretch of wet skin. 

You can’t even bear to look down at him again, and you toss your gaze up to the stars as they twinkle above, blinking, conspirators to your escapade. Biting down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning too loud, your hips slowly roll up and down as Jake sucks around your clit, his big hands working overtime to keep you from wriggling away entirely off the rock and to the ground.

“Oh, god…”

Between your legs is a flurry of warmth, a tingling feeling rippling down to your toes. After five dry years, it comes as no real shock that even someone’s tongue could be ripping this kind of response from you. 

“You good?” Jake murmurs.

“Mmh. Hot,” you rasp. It doesn’t help that there’s an exo-pack warming your face with every deep breath you take. Jake moves his mouth from your cunt momentarily as if trying to hear you, watching with curious eyes when you bite back another noise which stirs as he slides his finger towards your entrance. 

“This mask is really ruining my vibe right now,” you groan, your voice so throaty and strangled that Jake has to fight a smirk. He fails miserably.

“Take it off and hold your breath,” Jake replies; a laugh rumbles from his chest when you lift your head to scowl at him.

“It would frighten people if they knew how much of a genius you were.”

Jake hums, his eyes glistening as he cocks his head, “I’m incredibly humble.” Then he wastes no more time talking and sinks his finger into you.

He sinks in with plenty of ease, your wetness guiding his finger all the way in to the knuckle and you choke back a strangled sound; one of Jake’s fingers feels like two of your own, the stretch unfamiliar but not unwelcome after your dry spell of five cryo-stolen years. 

Jake grins widely and inches his tongue back between your legs, swiping it over your clit and forcing the moans out from hiding in your throat.

You turn your head to the side, sparing a glance at the distant laboratory. You can only hope you’re not loud enough to startle your sleeping colleagues and brother.

“Eyes down here, Spellman,” Jake mumbles, his voice vibrating across your pussy and pulling your eyes back towards him. Tears spring to your eyes as he looks up at you, working his fingers in and out of you slowly while matching his licks to the tempo.

His tongue is slightly rough and textured, each lick leaving you feeling almost ticklish. A rush of warmth pulls from your cunt up to your neck, and your thighs tremble around his head with a flushed squeeze, but Jake doesn’t seem to mind; he pulls your one leg further apart with his other hand and slips in a second finger, the stretch of your hole making your back arch with a half pained, half pleasured moan.

“Jake!” you gasp, your hips bucking up against his mouth, his fangs brushing across you. He has the nerve to laugh all of a sudden, pulling his mouth away after pressing a sloppy kiss to your clit. “Jesus, fuck, Jake—”

“Goddamn, you are a yapper,” Jake comments, and you glare at the almost human look of pure smugness on his face, his chin coated with saliva and juice. 

“Fuck you,” you huff, feeling the absence of his tongue immensely, despite his continuously moving fingers. Jake’s fingers are thicker than they looked from afar — it feels like you’re full already, but you’re not willing to confess that to him. He already looks far too proud with what he’s doing.

You suppose, now that you’re thinking about it, Jake’s had years to become familiar with a pussy; he seems to be back between your legs with a certain hunger for you, the taste of your juices sweeter than he initially expected. 

His fingers are coated in juice, slipping into you with no resistance and curling his fingers up to make your hips lift once more. He almost wants to make a comment to fluster you, to tell you how insanely good it feels for your cunt to be quivering around his fingers, welcoming him up there as if you’d prepared for them beforehand. Jake parts his fingers inside of you, stretching you out, his mouth comfortably attached to you.

His ears twitch when you let out a wobbly cry — actually, he’s not sure if you’re crying for real or not. His eyes follow your hand as it creeps down to the hood of your pussy, just above his nose, and he pulls his mouth away for a split second.

“No, no, go back,” you pant, and like a dog given a command, Jake pulls his soggy fingers out of your cunt and pushes his head back between your thighs, satisfied by your own pleasured sounds when he does.

Jake hooks his arm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the sloping boulder while he uses his other hand to keep your legs wide apart. You forget all about modesty and self-control and open them as wide as you can for him to help, your hand stroking the top of Jake’s hair as he burrows his way back between the wet spot he was devouring. 

You suck in a tight and high-pitched breath when Jake’s tongue shifts from left to right over your clit, the feeling of his tongue strange and almost like a vibration. Your hips lift from the boulder again and shift up and down — Jake’s barely even trying, barely broken a sweat, but when he glances up at you he’s both amused and surprised by how twisted in pleasure you look. All he can see is the underneath of your jaw tilted to the sky, and one of your hands curling up around your tit under your tank top.

Jake guides his arm from trapping your abdomen up to push the bottom of your tank up above your wrist. There’s no way he’ll let you gatekeep the sight of your tits when he’s the one making you touch yourself in the first place. His eyes are wide with excitement when you fist the fabric of your tank and yank it up above your boobs, the curve of them bouncing with the quick movement of your hand. 

Jake groans into you, his tail curling up high. Jake’s tasted a lot of pussy in his life, but he doesn’t know what exactly you’ve done to taste so good to him. He momentarily convinces himself that it feels different because he’s in a whole other body — it must just be because he’s big and strange and he’s been fucking you in his mind for a while now that you somehow feel ten times better than anyone else he’s ever been with. 

The pool of warm juice between your legs leaves you incredibly soft and squishy, like a tìhawnuwll that he has to remind himself he can’t just sink his teeth into.

It could be because you’re Norm’s sister. Could be because you usually appear so big when he’s resorted to sitting down all day, but now you’re helplessly tiny underneath him, trapped by his arms and head. Or it could just be because he’s an idiot who quashes his feelings rather than gives in to them.

He blinks. Your hips are so high off the boulder that Jake has to bring his arm back down to hold you in place. The less you squirm, the more drawn out he can make it, but he’s acutely aware of the tremor in your legs, the impatient rutting against his lips, the painful hardness under his tewng.

“Sweet,” he grumbles. The word leaves you flustered, and the heat brewing like a bomb against his open mouth begins to rise through your body again. You forget to be quiet as you let out a high-pitched moan, feeling your toes curl in your boots and you desperately finger at your nipple, rolling and tugging on the hardened nub of flesh as Jake pins you tighter against the boulder. He laves his tongue down your cunt towards your entrance, the warm tip of it pushing to the tightened hole that Jake wants more than anything to squeeze himself inside.

“Mf — Jake, come on,” you whimper.

One of his thin brows raises. “You seduced yet?”

“Fuck off. Yes.”

You feel the rumble of his laughter against your pussy. Jake presses a kiss against it and then moves his mouth to the soft skin of your inner thigh. 

“I never let a woman go without making her cum,” Jake says, his voice muffled against your leg. He feels you quiver beneath him, and his grin widens. “You wanna at least cum first, right?”

“Please, Jake—”

A startled cry of pain rips from your throat when Jake gently sinks his teeth into your leg — Jake knows his own strength and pulls back before he can draw blood, glancing at the red outline of his teeth imprinted into your leg, a ridged ring of saliva in his wake. Your head is lifted entirely to gape at him, and he looks at you with a coy expression.

“Did you just bite me?”

He smirks. “Accident. Sorry.”

“Yeah right.” Your legs shift slightly around him, but Jake can smell the twisting agony of pleasure leaking out of you — he’s never been more thankful for his Na’vi body and its strange sense of smell than he is now, to be able to pick up on the need you try to hide from him, a scent he actually understands. Normally he can admire your determination, but right now, he’s more concerned with finding out how to break down your walls and unravel you the way he knows you’ve been wanting him to for the last two months.

He smooches the bite one more time, his ears pricking when you whimper out a sort of desperately small sound and say, “Come on, Jake. You got me out here, don’t torture me about it.”

“Me eating your pussy not enough for you?” he asks smugly. He knows it would be more than enough — call him conceited, but he’s sort of an expert on it by now.

You don’t say much, nothing worth noting, at least. Jake’s ears are tall as he lifts his head slightly, but his thumb continues to rub up and down your slit, carefully smoothing over your swollen clit almost sympathetically.

“Please,” you beg in such a small and desperate voice that Jake smiles at the sound. You see his eyes flutter, half-lidded, as he cocks his head to the side until his temple is against your knee. 

“Hm? You just wanna say please and get it over and done with?” Jake mutters. “You can’t take any more of my fingers?”

“Don’t be a prick,” you whimper. “You want it, too.”

You feel that unkind heat simmer over you again, but not for the reason you expect. Jake blinks at you lazily, like an unimpressed cat, and then you watch as his eyes curve into crescent moons, the slint of gold virtually glowing in the Pandoran night. Then, the fucker smiles again, looking so smug that you feel embarrassed somehow, caught under his gaze.

“Yeah, I do,” agrees Jake. “I’ve been wanting you a long time.”

“Then, come on,” you urge. Something excited claws at you, and you feel your heartbeat race when he lifts himself slightly. “Come on, big guy. You got me out here, you win.”

He swells with pride, pleased by what is leaving your mouth in a flustered flurry. 

“You think you can take me all by yourself?” he asks, his hands coming to rest on your knees as he turns his gaze back to the clenching hole between your legs. Jake looks almost thoughtful as he stares at you, as if analysing. “You could only just take two fingers.”

For such an intelligent woman, Jake finds himself amazed when you look anxious about that statement. What, do you really think he’ll just give up and go? Jake doesn’t care if it takes all night to get himself up your snatch, because no matter what, he’ll get himself in there.

He sniggers when your mouth flounders like a little fish, your tank sliding with the angle of your body back down over your tits, but then he tuts and reaches back to pull it up. In fact, he decides it’s better off, and he uses one finger to pull the whole thing up to your chin, and lets you suffer in an anxious string of actions — you tug the tank up over your head, eyes wide, lip pouting. 

“Wanna try?” Jake asks, if not to speed along the increasing agony of his hard cock tenting under his tewng then just to put you out of your misery. “Or should I go back for seconds?”

“Jake…” Your chest rises and falls as you gape at him. He went through all the trouble to get you here, and although you never expected to look at Jake’s avatar and feel a throb between your legs, you can’t even look at him without feeling overcome with the terrible, pressing desire to squeeze whatever weapon he has under his loincloth into your cunt. Jake watches your eyes look down at the darkness between his legs, to the pretty band of string tied around his middle, and then looks back at you with a sickeningly sweet expression.

“Aw, honey. You want me to fuck you?”

It takes an incredible amount of effort not to scowl at him. Jake is lucky he looks so attractive with your arousal around his lips, otherwise you’d be up off the boulder and marching back to the labs for being so unbelievably full of himself. 

But even though he’s double your size and consumed by a cocky smugness from being able bodied and towering over you, you can’t think of enough reasons to warrant your leave. The only things on your mind are how much it’ll hurt to get him inside you, and how good it’ll feel once he is.

“That’s why you brought me here, after all, isn’t it?” you murmur, your lips curved slightly when he bows his body over you, his hands flat against the boulder on either side of your waist. “You’ve been thinking of me, right? Oeyä sayrìp tsamsiyu — you must have thought about this every time you went and found me a flower, right?”

Jake’s smile turns wolfish. “Yap, yap, yap.”

You all but whine underneath him. It is so unbecoming of you to be so desperate for something that you resort to writhing like a brat, but with Jake just straddling over you without doing anything, you feel the eager feeling of want coiling in your lower stomach. Your hole clenches around the air, as if trying to feel for Jake’s fingers again, and you lift your hips up off the boulder as if to entice him.

He barely even looks down at you, which only infuriates you more. 

For a moment, you wonder if the only reason he lured you out here was to satiate a desire of his own; maybe he just wanted to prove that he still had what it took to make a woman beg for him — though he needn’t have tried so hard, considering you’d have writhed and whined for him just as much, if not more, had he just made it known that he knew about and returned your feelings sooner.

But having you touch him in an impossible silence in the shared bunks pales in comparison to now, to having you look so small and soft and inviting; for you to beg for him, to let yourself be ravaged by him in all of his strength. Why would he prefer to have you while he feels useless when he can make the most of the strong, brawny and big body his brother passed down to him?

Jake breathes deeply through his nose and chews on the inner skin under his lips. You watch in the dark as his tail coils, his ears flat, until he lowers his body down like he’s doing a press up and pushes his nose against your sternum. 

“You smell so pretty, baby girl,” Jake mutters, pressing a kiss against the skin sloping between your tits. Biting your lip does little to suppress the moan that spills out when Jake cups one of his hands around your breast, and you hold the back of his hand as he gently squeezes. 

The hanging cloth of his tewng brushes past your pussy and you jolt in surprise, just in time for Jake to bring his mouth down over your other boob. The sheer size of Jake dwarfs every feature of yours, but something about your tiny size only excites him more. 

With his lips wrapped around your tit, you try your hardest to muffle another moan at the feeling of his tongue toying around your nipple, desperately trying to find something to focus on that isn’t the absurdly good feeling of Jake’s mouth or the tewng brushing past your pussy every time Jake rocks his hips backwards and forwards.

You clench your hand over his, feeling your legs squirm around him as his sharp teeth scrape against the squishy curve of your breast. Fear should rip through you when you feel his teeth tighten around the top of your tit, but it doesn’t; instead, a rush of warm excitement burns you from the inside out when Jake’s cheeks hollow, sucking a purple blot into your skin.

“Hey—” you say cautiously, but the damage is already done. It’s as if Jake’s determined to make you the same shade as him; the mark he leaves is blooming and bright, and he looks all too proud of himself when he looks up in acknowledgement of your voice. His tail thrashes excitedly. 

“Leaving that so everyone can see what you were doing when they wake up,” Jake explains, licking a strip from the swelling bruise to your neck for good measure. “My dirty scientist.”

That is if you ever make it back to the lab in one piece. 

Feeling the pleasure spreading across your body, you’re half contemplating staying here on this rock forever, hoping that Norm or Grace never come back here looking for samples only to find your corpse. You’re overcome with a conflicting contrast of emotions — you suddenly feel so exposed, so unraveled, half guilty for encouraging Jake to shove his big blue fingers up your crotch, and even guiltier about the fact that you want more from him.

“Enough. Come on,” you huff, and Jake dips his attention back to the rutting of your hips, the glossy shine of your arousal. “While I’m wet.”

“You really think I’m gonna let you dry up before I can get inside you?” Jake asks, as if the idea is beneath you both. “Have some confidence in me, Spellman.”

“I do. Full confidence. So, come on, gimme.”

Jake grins; he leans his weight up on one knee and in the light, you can just about see the protruding point of his tewng and feel your desire pooling. It’s only when Jake undoes the string around his waist and frees what hides beneath that you start to feel your body tense unexpectedly; it is beyond you how Jake has managed to keep the spear he calls his cock hidden for so long, and even more unthinkable as to how it will fit inside of you. 

You stare at it with wide eyes. Meanwhile, Jake holds the base of it with his hand and assesses the space between your legs again. When he guides the tip to your folds and strokes himself up and down, you feel your heartbeat quicken and your legs turn like jelly.

“You like it?” he asks, ever so sweetly, as if it’s a new gift brought back for you to enjoy. In a way, it is a gift, something for you to sample. Jake’s body seems to vibrate with nothing short of delight at the speechless state his dick has left you in — and he hasn’t even put it in yet.

“Big, right?” he continues to ask, a smirk on his face.

All you can say is, “how do you walk around with that thing?”

He barks out a laugh, his head tilted to the stars as his smirk widens. Jake then pushes the tip against you again with his thumb, choking down his amused sniggers as he drags himself up and down your cunt, and more than anything, he wishes he could see your face better in the moonlight. Luckily, Jake’s spent hours staring at you in his wheelchair to be able to piece together the smudges of your features he can see in the reflection of light hanging over the front of your mask. And what he can’t see, he’ll hear, and what he’s not satisfied with not seeing he’ll seek from you again later.

“It’ll be a tight fit,” Jake thinks out loud, prodding the tip of his cock against your entrance and looking up at you once you whimper, “but I know you can take it.”

“I dunno… Looks kind of big—”

“You can fit it in,” he tells you confidently.

But now you’ve seen it, you’re slightly nervous. “What if I can’t—?”

“You were just begging me for it,” Jake says pointedly. “While I’m wet, you said.” Then, he leans forward so that the wide slope of his nose is pushed against the front of your mask. “I don’t care if it takes all night trying. I’ll help you fit it all in, okay?”

You breathe in sharply, feeling your hips grinding up against him. Jake tries to find sympathy for you; he supposes that if he were you and some ten foot Na’vi was trying to burrow his cock between his legs, he’d be apprehensive too. 

“Just…” you rasp, watching him desperately, and he waits kindly, though his tip is on the verge of being swallowed by your cunt. Your legs tremble when he smiles at you, one hand on his cock, the other flat against the boulder. “Just go slow, okay?”

The way he looks at you is as if you’ve just said something stupidly endearing. “Sure thing, Spellman.”

Jake does his best to keep up his presented facade of coolness, but you feel so warm and wet, his arm begins to shake as he supports his weight on the boulder, grunting when he aligns his cockhead with your hole and very slightly pushes in. Even though he only just had his fingers up there, he can feel your pussy resisting, and it’s only the tip. 

Your mouth hangs open with a pained whine, the stretch uncomfortable but in spite of it, you arch your back as if trying to feel more of him inside of you.

“Easy,” he chuckles, very slowly pushing more of himself into your pussy. The noises from your mouth grow louder, and something proud purrs in his chest. His tongue pushes against the inside of his lower lip as he smirks, teeth showing, as he makes an almost amused groan. You’re insanely tight, and unbelievably squishy and wet — and hey, it’s been five years for him, too.

“Yeah,” Jake groans, pushing his hips further and pulling out, each stroke gentle and tentative. He wants more than anything to go rough, to make you mewl and cry and curl up against him, but the tearful look on your face makes him reconsider. Each time he sinks in a little bit deeper, softening the resistance of your walls as they make room for him. 

It takes an incredible amount of self restraint to stop himself from shoving all of it in at once; you’re so tight, the tightest pussy he’s ever felt closing around his cock, and easily the best. Jake closes his eyes for a second, honing in on the squeezing clench around his cock and the unnerving, uncharacteristic silence leaving your gaping mouth. 

“Talk to me, Spellman,” Jake groans, inching deeper inside. His ears perk again when you cry as he sinks in deeper. “Say something.”

“You told me I talked too much,” you manage out, admirably trying your hardest to remain quiet despite the pushing twelve inches of Na’vi cock up your cunt. Jake’s barely even inside of you; more of his dick is out than it is stuffed inside. 

“I love hearing you talk,” replies Jake, even though he had just poked fun at your ability to talk someone’s ear off. Had he known it would swear you into silence now, he’d have never said anything. What Jake wants now most of all is to hear your voice again, hear your pleasure, your instructions, your pleas. 

Hearing you slip out a high pitched moan when he pushes more of his cock inside of you feels like a reward almost. 

“Could listen to you yap away all damn day,” he murmurs quietly, his eyes finding yours behind the glaze of the exo-pack. “I know you’ve always got something to say, so why’re you so quiet all of a sudden?” Jake’s grin brightens when you manage to suck in more of his length, “Talk to me, baby, tell me what you want, hm?”

“Just… Put it in,” you whimper, and his eyes widen excitedly. 

“You said to go slow.”

“I know what I said, but I need more.” Your eyes are so blown open he’d laugh if it didn’t look so goddamn sexy. “Please, Jake.”

“You sure?” he croons. 

“Mm. Please — come on, please��!”

Jake snaps his hips forward so quickly that more than half of dick disappears inside of you, and the primal noise that leaves your mouth takes Jake completely by surprise. 

“Fucking shit, mama,” Jake groans, his voice rasped as he bows his chest over yours, dropping to his forearm on the boulder as he adjusts to the warmth enveloping him. “Holy shit.”

You swallow a deep breath, your hands gripping tightly to Jake’s shoulders which forces his eyes to your face. He can make out the distinct shimmer of tears under your eyes, and he brushes his fingers across the side of your neck, tapping you to bring your eyes open and searching for him in the dark. 

“You with me?” he asks, chuckling slightly. “You good?”

“Oh my god,” you squeal, cunt clenching. “Wait—”

“Breathe,” Jake says quietly, pressing a kiss to the swollen bruise he sucked into your skin earlier. “You can do it, pretty girl.”

“Keep moving, it hurts when you just stay still.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, his hips falling back into a slow rhythm to keep you adjusted to his twitching cock. It’s almost disturbing how easily you’re taking him now he’s forced more of his length inside, how wet and responsive you seem to be as he sinks deeper into you.

At first, Jake goes slow, familiarising himself with every noise you give him, every twitch and shift in your body, every clench around him. You feel the smooth ridges of his cock kissing your insides, the sensation unfamiliar and strange but so fucking good. He snakes one hand under your back when you lift up off the boulder; his large palm is flat against the arch of your spine, his fingers curled around your hip. 

You look like a toy underneath him, something he could easily just hold with one hand and fuck himself up into.

His hips snap again, faster than he intended, and more of his dick disappears inside of you. You could easily take all of him if he took his time getting you to that point, but the warmth wrapping around him like a glove is so sinful that he can’t think of anything less appealing than going slow. He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth and squeezes your waist with his hand; one desperate little cry from your mouth later, and Jake forgives himself for having waited so long to get you in this position, to fuck you stupid. 

It’s been so long since Jake’s been able to fuck a woman like this, and for his first time since his accident to be with you, of all people — well, Jake could think of no greater victory, no better reward for all the shit he’s endured so far. 

He stares down at the gap between your legs, watching as his dick vanishes and reappears with every rock of his hips. You’re taking it so well, like a champion. Pride blooms in his chest — he’d expect nothing less from his woman.

Pulling your hips down slightly to meet him as he thrusts up, Jake shoulders the control and moans in a low tone, pushing until he feels your body seize underneath him. Then, he pulls back, falls back in, and gets himself comfortable.

The stretch no longer burns the way it did, but you feel as though you can barely breathe as Jake ruts his hips up. He’s so big in every definition of the word. He doesn’t seem to notice nor care about the deep indent of your fingernails in his shoulder; he seems entirely devoted to gaining momentum, creating his own pace with his ears flat against his bowed head.

“God… Jake,” you moan, feeling the slight point of the boulder against your shoulder blades and his hand squeezing your middle as you finally speak, after what feels like eons of silence to Jake.

He latches his gaze to the rise and fall of your breasts as he fucks you, his breathing heavy. “Oh, you like that?”

Ever so slightly, he hastens his pacing, eliciting a tearful sob from your mouth. “Mmf—”

“Is it everything you hoped for?”

His stomach churns when you laugh, albeit with a strangled kind of tone, and clench around his cock again.

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“So’re you,” he points out, lifting his chest slightly to glance down at your stomach. It should be criminal how turned on he feels by the sight of his own dick outlined in your lower tummy — it should be criminal how insanely good it feels knowing he’s fucking a part of you nobody else has before. You’ve lost all self control as you decide to let yourself be noisy, which Jake is all too pleased to hear.

Peering down at your hips, you marvel at the sight of Jake’s frightening length pushing up against your stomach. It looks just as weird as it feels. Jake hisses and runs a hand across the spot his dick is hitting.

“Feel that?” he asks. He knows you do. It’s a stupidly dumb question, but you whine at it all the same. “I told you it would fit. Look at you, taking it all, no problem.”

“Mhm. Feels good; so, so, so good, Jake…” Your body feels limp and tingly, and you let your head fall back so your gaze is pointed up at the sky. Even as you blink dazed up at them, they have the striking appearance of Jake’s skin, the dark blue wash of sky with littered balls of bright white light. The image of him is printed on your mind, and no matter where you look to avoid his gaze, you find him again.

Jake shifts. Keeping his dick sliding in and out of you with more of an upbeat rhythm than before, he bows his chest back over yours and brings his ears close to your ear.

“A perfect fit for my perfect girl,” he mutters. He becomes so reliant on his one hand on the boulder when he uses the other to hold your leg up around his waist, bringing forth an entirely new burn from the stretch of it. His breath is warm on your ear, making you shudder. “How long you been waiting for me, baby?”

You scoff disbelievingly, trying to think of something to say despite your mind being both full and empty at the same time. All you can think about is the building pressure in your tummy.

“Long,” you offer, snaking a hand up his neck to the back of his head. 

Jake licks his tongue across the arch of skin connecting your neck to your collar. “Thinking of me with your fingers up your cunt at night, huh?” His hand squeezes around your middle when you begin to shift with his thrusts further up the boulder. Even with your loud cries in his ear, Jake can hear the squelching wetness around his cock, the tightening spasms around his length bringing him closer to giving in to the dull ache in his own stomach. “Bet you wheelchair Jake Sully couldn’t make you feel like this. Next time you get off to the thought of him, I want you to think of what we’re doing right now, about who’s got you feeling this way.”

“How…how do you even know about that?” you gasp, half pleasured by his thrusting and half horrified by the revelation that Jake might have been privy to the fact you masturbated with him in mind when everyone went to bed at night.

Actually, he didn’t know. But he sniggers smugly that his teasing jeer turned out to be true. 

Jake presses a kiss to your collar and peppers a line of them up until he is thwarted by the mask covering your face. Peering down at your face hidden behind it, Jake gives you a sad pout and says, “I wanna go fast.”

“I…” you start, his hips already moving and you feel the heat simmering below again. Anymore from him, and you’ll be finished, cumming all over him. “I don’t think… I’ll — I’m gonna—”

“Then let’s get it done,” he says with as much finality and refine as he can muster before he picks himself back up, finding the energy he had before to pin you down against the boulder. You keep your leg wrapped around his waist as he sets one hand down over your tummy, the other on your shoulder, and then the real fun begins for him.

Jake isn’t ignorant to the twisting ache inside of him — like you, he knows he probably doesn’t have that much longer until he’s completely tuckered out and ready to fill you up. What can he say? It’s been a long time, and he doesn’t have the same kind of stamina as he used to. You’re tightening up around him in anticipation; it’s like being gripped in a vice. 

He pulls his hips back and then pistons himself back in with so much speed that you almost fly up off the boulder in surprise. Too fast, he thinks, so he gets accustomed to a regular fast pace and sticks to it loyally. In return, he’s rewarded with a litany of pretty sounds, your hands curling around his arms, desperately trying to hold on. 

“Yeah, oh yeah,” Jake groans, feeling your cunt fluttering around him as he fucks in and out, slipping in and out of your wetness as if he owns it. The hand that’s pressing your shoulder slips to your throat, and while he doesn’t squeeze, you claw your fingers around his and feel his grip tighten ever so slightly. 

“Fuck!” you squeal, clamping your eyes closed suddenly. “Shit—Jake, baby—”

He moans at that, really moans. A ringing rises in volume in his ears as his thrusts grow more rapid, relentlessly smacking his hips up until he slides all of his dick inside of you. 

God, you’re fucking perfect — he can’t name many women, if any at all, who could take a dick this size with as much ease as you are now. But the increasing pressure in your tummy is so overwhelming that you’re not even too aware of the size of what’s getting comfortable inside of you. All you know and understand is that in the next three seconds, you’ll be seeing white.

Jake’s name falls like a mantra from your lips, and he looks at you in surprise to see that you’ve very bravely opened your eyes to stare at him, although the tears lining your waterline and smeared down your cheeks make your stare look ten times more attractive to him. He almost wishes he hadn’t looked — his hips stagger slightly and he growls, the noise earning him another whiney moan from the undone woman beneath him, the woman he’s committed to filling with his cum and making his.

“I—!” You say nothing — you don’t even have to. Jake feels your cunt strangling his length like a goddamn fist, and by the buffering look of pure ecstasy on your face, he’s fairly certain all of those things mean you’re about to cum.

“Yeah, mama, cum for me,” Jake coaxes. “Lemme feel you.”

The warmth around him clenches, and all of a sudden, your body seizes with a jolt, your back arched so high off the boulder that it leaves him hitting entirely new angles inside of you, pushing your orgasm to a new level. 

For you, it feels like you’ve been blown up. Your entire body is consumed by a blazing heat, your legs going immediately limp as you cum around him. Jake’s eyes instantly shift to your quivering hips, to your cunt still swallowing him up, the white dribbles of cum leaking down the length of his cock. He watches the small cluster of glowing freckles decorating his dick disappear behind a rolling drop of your cum and his jaw goes slack.

“My girl,” he crows, his head bowing as he eagerly fucks into you a few more times, muttering the same thing as he does: “Oh, my girl, my pretty girl—”

The hand around your throat rips itself away only to squeeze into your hips, as though Jake intends to leave fingerprints there once he’s done. He grips you tightly and with a monumental and low, throaty moan, he snaps his hips one final time and feels a tug in his tummy.

You probably feel him cum before he does. Jake seems caught up in his thrusts while you register the unmissable burst of warmth inside of you, ropes of cum spilling out as if his sole intention were to breed you, stuff you full of his seed. 

In actual fact, Jake just wanted to fuck you silly, fill you with boat loads of cum, and bask in the evil satisfaction of watching Norm smell Jake all over you, claiming you as his. 

“Mm—fuck, Jake!” you rasp, squeezing your little hands around his wrists. The feeling is enough to bring him up to the surface he was drowning under, the ringing in his ears dulling as he catches his breath and opens his eyes, staring down at the embarrassingly wet mixture of cum and juice between your legs. 

He stays inside of you for a moment, his dick still hard and even more pronounced up your cunt than it was before, and it’s as if his eyes are unfocused in absolute awe as he observes the sight of you stretched open, locking him in place greedily. 

It sinks in that you managed to fit all of him in, that he just used his avatar to fuck you in the forest behind the lab. You. Norm’s sister. The object of his desire. The woman of his literal dreams.

Jake lets out a loud and heavy breath, a sigh of relief, and rubs his palms up and down your stomach gently. Despite having had him fucking you just seconds before, you feel a heat flush over your face when he looks up at your face, sweaty and tear-stained under the exo-pack, and he grins wolfishly.

“You’re incredible,” he laughs, which makes the act of looking at him feel ten times more rewarding. Your body warms with the praise: all you’ve wanted was for Jake to like you back, and now, to be full of his cum and knowing he thinks you’re incredible… You laugh with him. 

A few disbelieving laughs later, and Jake finally moves his hands under your thighs and slowly pulls himself out of you. The bump of each ridge along his length knocks past you, and Jake stifles a howl of laughter at the whiney, high-pitched moan you make as his cock pulls out of you with a slick, wet pop. He cranes his head slightly to watch his cum pool out of you and you pick yourself up on your forearms, looking for his dick between his legs to have a final peek, a good look at him covered in your cum and his…

Your eyes widen. “Your cum glows.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “What? Scientist of Pandora didn’t know Na’vi cum glowed?”

“I haven’t exactly had a selection of Na’vi men or women to tell me that it did!” you reason, your eyes still marvelling curiously at the shiny soft blue stain over the hanging fruit between his legs. 

He hums, poking a finger against your folds and smirking when you flinch. “Hm. Put that in your research notes. Wanna take samples?”

“Fuck off,” you laugh, keeping your legs wide as you struggle to sit upright. The discomfort between your legs is suddenly making itself known, and already the cum around your pussy and thighs is drying, sticky and thick. “Jesus, Sully. Look at me.”

“I know,” grins Jake, his eyes soaking up the image of you. “You’re fucking sexy.”

You roll your eyes with a twisting smile. While Jake seems incredibly fascinated with the marks he has either left accidentally or on purpose over your body, you groan and roll your shoulders. Frankly, you wish Jake had just thrown you down on the grass and fucked you there — in hindsight, the boulder had been a bad idea and you know it will come to haunt you in the morning.

Lazily, and yet with a rush of shame and exhilaration, you glance back at the lab, sitting in the curve of moonlight and caged by bioluminescent flowers and shrubs, each glowing vibrant spectrums of cyan and purple and lime. 

“You’re the luckiest woman alive if nobody heard you yapping,” Jake says playfully, rising upright to stretch the agonised muscles of his legs. “You’re so noisy, honey.”

“I apologise for not thinking too much about the volume of my voice,” you drawl sarcastically, your eyes still glued to the glazed thick glass windows looking into the back of the lab. Anxiously, you glance at him, “Was I that loud?”

He gives you a tight, sympathetic smile. You frown.

“You weren’t quiet yourself, you know,” you grumble, feeling the pinch in your back ease slightly.

“Yep.” And he seems smug about that fact, for reasons beyond you, although you wager a guess as to why he seems proud all of a sudden.

As you shuffle awkwardly off the boulder, you wince as you lean for your shorts and panties, dropping a little look at the sliding dollop of cum slipping out of you. 

“You gotta keep it in there,” Jake says. 

“Jake, as soon as I stand up and walk around, it’s all gonna come pouring out anyway.”

His lip curls with disappointment as he watches his cum drip out of you onto the edge of the boulder, splatting on the wisps of grass around your ankles. It’s a good thing he’s full of copious reserves of cum to give back to you another time.

“Can’t wait for Norm to get a whiff of me,” Jake tells you, and you fight the urge to sigh and roll your eyes, because of course — of course that had been a motive for the gallon of glowing blue sperm Jake just squoze into you. “The look on his face when he figures out I’ve been breedin’ his little sister—”

“I have never been more thankful of the fact that Na’vi and humans can’t reproduce together. Hand on my heart, I mean that.”

You slide your shorts and panties back up your legs and reach for your thrown tank top. The inconspicuous smudges of green from the boulder across the back of it fill you with a puny drop of dread — you’ll just pray really hard to both God and Eywa that nobody pays it any mind. 

That and the bulbous bruise on your tit, the bite on your leg, the finger indents on your hips.

“I was doing that thing you were doing. Killing two birds with one stone,” Jake says as he searches the ground for his tewng. “Fucking you ‘cause I wanted to and fucking you because I know wanting you is gonna piss off your annoying big brother.”

You had said that, hadn’t you? And even though the entire scheme of Jake wanting to scorn your brother so badly that he has to use you as a human fuck-toy seems ludicrous, you can’t deny the very minuscule jolt of thrill it gives you. It would be fun to piss Norm off a little bit. He has been a total arse lately.

“Norm’s all you think about,” you tease. “You sure you don’t like him instead?”

“Shut up.”

Jake hands you your cardigan with an amused smile, his tail whipping to and fro happily. 

“Your coat, ma’am.”

“Love how you only have one thing to slip back into,” you point out as you take the cardigan from him, and he reaches for the tewng and chuckles. “You could’ve just lifted it up.”

“Could’ve, would’ve, didn’t,” he replies.

There’s an uncharacteristic silence between you both as you climb back into your clothes, and while Jake fiddles with his tewng with his tongue between his lips, you look back at the lab and sigh. 

Somewhere in that lab is the man you’ve been thinking of for two months — Jake in his human form, lying in a link unit as he takes control through another body. You wonder what he might think when he wakes up: will he come searching for you in the dark? Come kiss you, tell you how he feels?

Jake creeps up to you with an alarming light foot, and the feeling of his hand on top of your head makes you look up suddenly. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asks. 

“You,” you sigh, looking back at the lab. “Are you going to follow through with tonight when you’re back as yourself, or is this an avatar Jake exclusive?”

“Come on. You still want that loser in there?” Jake feels his heart tug — he doesn’t know if to feel offended that you’re still thinking of someone else, or flattered because that someone else is technically him, the real him, the version of him that Jake hates the most.

“You’re so mean to him,” you grumble. Then pause, and add, “To you. That’s literally still you in there. If anything, doesn’t that make me look a little bit obsessed?” Jake gently pushes your head as you fall into a slow walk in the direction of the remote lab. “Wow. Actually, I just realised that’s true.”

“Finding out that you liked me was the only reason I started spending more than five minutes at a time in the lab,” Jake tells you. 

“Who told you?”

You both accept a short silence as you stride past the wall that most of the bunks are built against, and you feel an anxious knot forming in your stomach when the clearing at the front of the lab expands into view. 

“I meant it when I said you were horrible at hiding your crush on me,” Jake reminds you. 

Right. 

The tsawksyul Jake found you is thankfully still where you left it, and you slip out of Jake’s touch to fetch it from under the window, but when you turn to him, his eyes are pulled back across the miles of suspended mountains.

“You have somewhere else to be?” you call.

His top lip curls into a half pout as he says, “Not now. But tomorrow I’ve got to do some hunting. If I make a clean kill, I start my iknimaya.”

“Impressive,” you comment, twirling the tsawksyul between your fingers. “You… Will you be gone long?”

Jake hesitates for a moment. Is he reading into it, or are you looking a little bit more crestfallen now you know he’ll be gone for a little while longer?

“Why, you wanna go again?” he asks with a laugh.

“Respectfully, I think my vagina is broken and I need to lie down,” you quip, making him laugh even more. “I was just…curious. If you’re gone too long, I’ll be asleep before you get back.”

Jake creeps towards you and drops to a painful crouch. He’s definitely going to feel the cry and protest in his legs in the morning from being haunched for so long. Still, he frames your face with his hands and takes a long look at your face.

“I’ll roll past your bed extra quietly,” he promises. 

You snort and push yourself away from him. “Safe travels, big guy. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Peering up at him, you breathe in the sight of him one last time as he nods once and rises to stand. The long shadow drawn by his lithe figure falls over you.

“Affirmative,” he states. You look up at him for a second and smile. Did it take having his cock in your stomach for you to realise how pretty he is like this, or have you known all along?

“Go,” you tell him, nodding towards the edge of the cliff before turning to the door. Over your shoulder, Jake scoffs a laugh and turns on his heels, his eyes scanning the mountain range as he approaches the edge. 

The bravery you had before died long ago and you quickly twist the air-lock to the door and force it open, your heart in your throat. You don’t look back at him, even when he looks back at you with an endearing smile on his face.

The lab is deathly silent when you slide back inside. You were half expecting someone to stir at the sound of the door sealing shut, but if anyone’s awake, they make no effort to show it. Tip-toeing to the small bathroom, you very hurriedly go about your business and wipe away the eternal flood of cum from between your legs. With the amount Jake just put inside you, you’re fairly confident that even a human with an average sense of smell could sniff him all over you.

The long stalk back to your bunk is made silently and carefully. Norm is fast asleep on the top bunk he unhappily shares with Jake, the aforementioned’s bunk empty and cold, the link unit whirring quietly. Just the sight and sound of it makes you unnaturally nervous, and you turn to speed towards your bottom bunk and peer at Trudy. She’s out like a light. 

The thin blanket is pulled to your chin once you settle in the sheets, and you refuse to accept that it’s cowardice you feel when the sound of the link unit slowly begins to fade and Jake hauls himself out with a pained groan. You remain very still as he fumbles for his chair, though you fight the urge to get up, help him and while you’re at it, kiss him until he can’t breathe.

You hope your acting has improved since your terrible attempts of hiding your crush and try to make it look as though you’re asleep, but the distinct sound of rolling wheels makes its way towards where you sleep; you steady your breaths so it looks like you’re out of it, and perhaps Jake will fall for it this time. 

Your stomach tightens when the wheels stop next to your bed, and you’re uncomfortably aware of the set of eyes staring at you curled up and facing the wall.

Jake’s hand brushes the back of your head gently, and you’re not sure if that means you’ve been caught, but then you feel Jake’s fingers brush a section of hair away from your neck and nearly sigh at the feeling of his mouth pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. It is so sweet, so fond and gentle, and annoyingly quick. He pulls away and the sound of wheels roll towards his own bunk.

Every sound he makes feels like it’s right in your ear. 

You almost wish you’d rolled over and took his face into your hands. But Jake’s smooch against your nape feels like a stolen secret, something shared between only you two, something special. 

No matter, you think as you wriggle to get comfortable. He’ll be there in the morning. And it’ll be the man you’ve wanted the entire time who wants you back who receives all your stirring desires.

[initialchains]

teenage dirtbag, baby! | luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

summary: there is nothing more exhausting than being known as the picture perfect daughter of aphrodite… luckily, camp half-blood’s resident teenage dirtbag luke castellan can’t relate at all. fake dating him to piss off your siblings and mother could never go wrong, right? (based on 18 by anarbor)

wc: 6.5k

warnings: smoking, mentions of drinking, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex, implied sexual content, drew tanaka being a bitch, and kinda ooc luke bcs hes meant to be well … a teenage dirtbag.

a/n: its still valentine’s day for me sooo happy valentines 💌💗 !! in mexico valentine’s day is also known as the day of friendship so this one is dedicated to my favorite people ever: @emiliehornby @love-that-we-were-in and @kestisvrse <3 !! hope you enjoy it mwah !!

The sounds of campers laughing and gossiping in the dining pavilion are drowned out by your siblings and their annoyingly loud whispers about the allegedly cute (you’d beg to differ) son of Ares who joined camp less than twelve hours ago. Sure, he seemed like a nice guy even though he's a child of the god of war, but you were certain the only reason they kept bringing him up was because they wanted to set you up with him.

“And his arms, oh my gods! Have you seen them?” one of your brothers chimed in, trying to get you to agree with him, but all you could come up with was a hum and a polite smile. 

It pissed you off a bit, the knowledge of you never being able to go against your siblings' wishes.. the fear of disappointing them and your mother being all-consuming and blinding you with fear.

There were times you’d think about it if you’re being honest. Times where you would let yourself dream of doing something so stupidly reckless for once. Something that would stop your siblings from walking all over you and treating you like their personal lapdog. 

Not only was it tiring but it was also humiliating to a certain point. You were older than most of them and you were pretty sure you were the only one that took being a demigod seriously, even taking your time to strategize for Capture The Flag with Clarisse, and yet… you rejected Chiron when he asked you to be a counselor and told him to ask Silena instead. 

And you loved your family—you really did, but it was getting exhausting. Always having to be perfect was draining you and you were afraid of the kind of person you’d become if you allowed this to keep going. 

“He totally wants to ask you out,” Silena’s voice snapped you out of the daze you were trapped in. You turned your head to the right, facing your half-sister with a small frown on your face.

“You really think so?” you replied, trying your best to sound excited. 

“Oh, I know so,” she answered before going on a whole rant about how cute you’d look with the newly claimed son of Ares. A son of Ares—that you badly wanted to remind her—had only been in camp for less than twelve hours and you knew nothing about. 

You stayed in the dining pavilion with your siblings until you found the strength to tell them you were tired and wanted to go to sleep (an incredibly blatant lie but it didn’t look like they cared) and stood up, brushing the dust off your jeans.

“Wait, I’ll go with you!” Silena said with a smile, standing up and moving closer to you. 

“You don’t have to. You can stay with them if you want to, really—“ you were cut off by your half-sister with an exasperated sigh.

“I want to go with you. Plus, I can walk back here once I drop you off at the cabin,” she stated with a playful roll of her eyes.

The two of you walked back to the Aphrodite cabin in a comfortable silence. You liked being with Silena, she was a few years younger than you but she carried herself with so much grace and love it was hard to feel uncomfortable or weird whenever you hung out with her.

You kept your gaze on the sky, noticing that the moon was out by now. “Hey,” Silena whispered, trying to get your attention.

“You okay?” you answered. Your mind was practically hardwired to always look after your siblings, so your brain was unwillingly making you think of the worst-case scenario.

“What? Yeah, I am okay,” Silena was quick to reassure you, “I just wanted to talk to you about—“

“I swear to all the gods, Silena. If this is about that camper..” you replied with a small sigh. The two of you stopped walking when you reached your cabin, deciding to continue the conversation outside.

“He’s not that bad! He is a nice guy and the two of you would look really cute together,” she insisted.

“You don’t even know him.”

“Ugh, fine. Good thing is there are other cute campers we can introduce you to. I met one of Charlie’s brothers a few weeks ago and I think he’d—“

“I can’t do this tonight,” you replied in an exhausted tone.

“Wow, okay. No need to be mean about it,” Silena muttered.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve been trying to help you find a boyfriend for months now and you always shut me down. It was fine at first but now you’re just being mean,” she explained.

“Mean? Silena, you said it yourself. I’ve always shut you down because I’m not interested in getting one.”

“Whatever,” she replied bitterly before turning around and walking back to the dining pavilion, leaving you alone outside of your cabin. 

You stared at her back as she walked away, going through the last few minutes over and over in your head. Were you being mean? All you did was stick up for yourself. You didn’t understand why you were feeling bad for standing up against your siblings just for once.

A snort made you realize you weren’t alone. You turned your head towards the noise just to be met with.. oh.

Luke Castellan was leaning against the side of your cabin, carefully hidden under the darkness of the night and the shadows of the trees, he had a cigarette in his right hand and an obnoxious smirk adorning his even more obnoxious face. 

“Hope you enjoyed the show, Castellan.”

Luke raised his hands as if he had been caught and blew the smoke away, “I’m on your side, she was being a fucking bitch.”

“Don’t call her that, she’s just a kid.”

Luke raised a brow before taking another drag of his cigarette, “Do not call your sister a bitch after seeing her.. be a bitch to you?” he shook his head. “Oh, princess, you need to work on getting rid of that altruism.”

“Do you even know what that word means?” you snapped, not being in the mood to indulge in whatever it was he wanted to talk about.

“Why? You want to teach me?” He said with a smirk.

“Don’t even start with your annoying stuff, Castellan,” you muttered, running a hand down your face, clearly overwhelmed with everything that had happened. 

“Because you know you won’t want me to stop?” he pressed, but after a moment of silence his smirk fell and a frown took over his features. 

“Uh.. you want to...” he trailed off and cleared his throat, “you want to talk about it or something?” 

You squinted at him before eventually letting out a sigh and walking over to Luke, standing next to him with your back pressed against the wooden walls of your cabin. Luke extended his arm away from you to keep the smoke far from your face. 

“So, um... Silena wants to set me up with that new camper,” you started.

“Fuck. The Ares one?” Luke interrupted.

“Castellan.”

“Right, sorry. Please continue, princess.”

You decided to ignore the insufferable pet name he gave you and continued, “The thing is I do want a boyfriend, just not… him.”

Luke hummed before bringing the cigarette to his lips again and inhaling the smoke in, he kept his mouth closed as he thought of something decent to say before slightly tilting his head away from you and blowing out the smoke upwards. 

“Alright, and have you tried telling her to stop?” he cut himself off and shook his head. “Nope that was shitty advice, have you tried maybe describing your type or whatever it is you Aphrodite people say to describe the people you’re attracted to.” 

“My type?” you replied, almost offended by the statement.

“Yeah?” Luke answered as if it was the most obvious thing to do, “Just describe the type of guys you’re into and I’m sure that cult of yours you like to call siblings will be happy to help…” he trailed off when he noticed your gaze set on his right hand and your bottom lip in between your teeth as he flicked the cigarette, causing the ashes to fall into the ground. 

He looked up from his hand and burst out into laughter, shaking his head before whispering an amused fuck. 

“Oh?” Luke said with a bright smile and raised brows, “You find this attractive, angel?” 

“That thing is going to kill you,” you explained, “I’m not attracted to people that like to slowly kill themselves.” 

“Fucking bummer. I wanted to see you take a drag, that would’ve been really hot,” he said, his smile not wavering. “Next thing you’re going to tell me is that you don’t drink, right?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Look at you, being such a good girl,” Luke teased before throwing the rest of his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. 

“Also, that thing you said about Silena being just a kid was really fucking stupid. She’s almost the same age as Annabeth and she doesn’t act like an asshole, I’m pretty sure your sweet little sister is just a bitch.” 

Annabeth. You forgot that even though Luke is an annoyance most of the time and prefers to stick to himself.. he still has a soft spot for the twelve year old daughter of Athena. It was kind of endearing. 

“Annabeth is a daughter of Athena, you can’t expect her to act—“

“You didn’t act like Silena when you were fourteen. You need to stop giving her excuses and allow yourself to get mad at her.” 

“I’d rather have my siblings get mad at me and just stop perceiving me as this perfect and weak person, maybe once that happens they’ll stop trying to mess with my life,” you explained, your gaze set towards the ground. 

Luke was about to open his mouth and try to come up with a funny one-liner to make you feel better, but he didn’t get to because you were quick to look up at him with a gasp and wide eyes.

“The fuck? Are you okay?” 

“I need you.”

“Shit, angel. Most girls say that after a few dates but I’m not against the idea,” he said with an amused look in his eyes. 

“Ew, no. I mean, I need to date you—fake date you.”

“I’m uh... not for sale?” Luke answered, clearly confused by the plan you were trying to explain.

“No, Castellan. Listen to me. My siblings despise you, I’m sure they’d set my bed on fire as a way of cleansing my soul from you if they find out we’re dating.”

Luke’s eyes got bright and his smile widened (if that was even possible), “Set your bed on fire? And what would we do in your bed for them to feel disgusted by its existence?”

“You’re disgusting. Anyway, if we fake date I’ll get to stop being perceived as their perfect sister and you’ll have bragging rights for dating an Aphrodite kid,” you said, moving your hands as you spoke. 

“I’m pretty sure Drew started the rumors about me having lice and smuggling coke into camp, are you sure you want to fake date me of all people?” Luke asked carefully, trying to make you think about what was at stake. He didn’t give a shit about staining his already nonexistent reputation, but he couldn’t have you ruin yours. 

“I am so sure, Castellan,” you reassured him. 

“You know, for a good girl I’m extremely surprised you never say please.”

“Please, Castellan. Could you please be my fake boyfriend so I can finally stop being seen as my siblings' personal toy?” you said with a fake smile while bringing your hands together as an exaggerated way of begging Luke to say yes. 

“You’re so cute when you beg. But you need to prove to me you’re serious about this fake dating thing. Meet me tomorrow at the bonfire, no bullshit.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

You had been on edge the entire day. Silena seemed to be past the argument, which made you feel better to an extent, but that didn’t seem to shake the uneasy feeling that settled in your gut because throughout the day you could feel someone staring at you. You could feel Luke staring at you.  

You were walking past the sword fighting arena with Katie Gardner from the Demeter Cabin the first time it happened. The feeling of a pair of eyes completely set on you. You turned your head to the right just to be met with Luke’s exhausted figure, he was sweating and panting, but that didn’t stop him from running his eyes up and down your figure and smiling at you. 

To say Katie was disgusted would be an understatement. A “Castellan is a dick, you should stay away from him,” was enough to stop you from staring at him and turning your head back to Katie. She went on to explain how Luke was a “real shitty person” and only hooked up with her as a way of getting her to grow weed in the back of the stables. 

It happened around eight times in the last two hours (not that you were counting) and it only got worse when the moon came up and everyone was making their way to the bonfire. You were walking next to Michael Yew when you felt a hand on your lower back. 

Luke’s hand on your lower back, to be exact. He left it there as he walked past you, only turning his head back to say “It’s adorable to see you together, are you two a couple?” 

You had to hold yourself back from strangling him when you heard his irritating laugh after he saw Michael’s reaction to his statement. Michael tried his best to be polite and tell him he was wrong, that there was nothing going on between the two of you. 

But his reply only seemed to fuel Luke’s actions even more because all he did was answer with a cocky “Oh, I know. Our princess here is only into... what was it? People that like to slowly kill themselves with cigarettes?” before walking away.

You were going to kill him.

Michael left your side as soon as you arrived, moving to sit with his siblings from the Apollo Cabin… leaving you with two choices: sitting with your siblings or sitting next to Luke (who for some reason always sat alone and spent the entire time listening to the music coming from the MP3 player he somehow managed to get into camp). 

So this is what Luke meant, you thought. This was the only way you could prove to him and everyone that you were serious about dating him—fake dating him—but it's not like they would ever know the truth.

You dragged your feet as you walked towards Luke, clearly having second thoughts about your plan, but there was no turning back now. You tried to ignore the confused look Drew was giving you and the gasps you could hear coming from your siblings. 

“I’m pretty sure Drew started the rumors about me having lice and smuggling coke into camp, are you sure you want to fake date me of all people?” You weren't so sure anymore but that didn’t stop you from taking a seat next to Luke Castellan, who took one of his earphones off and looked at you with a smile. 

“Happy now? I just proved how serious I am about this,” you whispered to him, trying your best to not let anyone hear you.

Luke nodded before saying, “You could’ve done better, but I’ll take it.”

“Done better? I just sat next to you in front of the entire camp, isn’t this good enough for you?” you asked, indignation evident in your tone. 

“Promise not to beat me up?” Luke said before pulling your arm and manhandling your body so you were on top of him, sitting on his lap. He placed his hands on your hips and looked up at you with stars in his eyes.

“Wow, Castellan. How scandalous, I’m sitting on your lap,” you deadpanned. 

He chuckled, bringing you closer to him and pressing his lips against yours. Luke’s hands felt like fire against your skin, all you could feel was a heat taking all over your body as he continued to kiss you, only pulling away to catch his breath before bringing you in for another one, this time he kissed you deeper and faster. 

Luke dragged you closer to him by pressing your hips against his and all you could do was melt into him and the feeling of his lips against yours. In the distance, you could hear gasps and people gagging, and you were pretty sure the campers from the Ares Cabin were cheering and whistling, but all your thoughts were on Luke Castellan and how good of a kisser he is.

You pulled away first this time, trying to steady your breathing as you looked into his eyes. He licked his lips before whispering “We should go.”

Your eyes widened as soon as he said that, the implications of what the sentence meant making you feel nervous. Luke was quick to reassure you, “If we leave, your siblings will be even more outraged. We don’t have to do anything, but they’ll think we are doing…some stuff. Just come to the woods with me for a little while.” 

You nodded and grabbed his hand as he guided you through the woods. You could hear Silena calling out your name and warning you about the consequences of your actions, but her voice was drowned out by the loud cheers coming from Clarisse.

Once the two of you were far enough from the rest of the campers, Luke let go of your hand and sat down by the lake, nodding his head as a way of asking you to join him.

You sat in silence for a few minutes until Luke spoke first. “How long do you think we should keep this thing up?”

“Valentina and Drew will want us to be over by tonight,” you said with a smile, a laugh escaping your lips. You didn’t notice how Luke’s eyes got brighter when he heard your laugh or how the melody that came out of your lips went straight through his heart and made him feel more alive.

“But I think a week should be enough. We can say we’ve been secretly dating for like... five months? That way it won’t be weird if we break up in a week,” you explained while your fingers played with your camp necklace. 

Luke nodded before going silent again, staring at the lake with a look you couldn’t quite comprehend. Your gaze was set on him, your eyes traveling from his toned arms, all the way to the scar that sat right below his right eye. 

“I know it’s awful, I can feel you staring at it,” he murmured. You could physically feel your heart sinking when he said it. You cleared your throat, “No, I… I think it’s beautiful. I think you’re—” Luke turned his head to face you, an inquisitive look in his eyes. “I think you’re really brave, Luke.” 

“Beautiful?” Luke asked, confusion written all over his face. “You should hear what your siblings say about it, then. I’m sure your opinion would change in a second.” 

“Being an Aphrodite kid means you see beauty everywhere,” you explained, “And I think your scar must be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Luke stared at you with an unreadable expression, making your heart almost beat out of your chest. 

“Are you flirting with me, angel?”

“Of course, you’d ruin the moment. Screw you, man.” You rolled your eyes. 

Luke threw his head back in a fit of laughter, it made you want to strangle him… again. “Did you just say screw you? Gods, princess, saying fuck won’t kill you.” 

“I don’t like to curse, thank you for pointing it out, Castellan,” you said, playfully shoving him, making him fake a gasp. 

“You went from trying to seduce me to trying to kill me, you’re so interesting, angel,” he said before letting out a sigh. “It, uh… It was really hard at first, getting used to the scar.”

“Having people call it all sorts of names, and looking at me with nothing but pity in their eyes was not easy to get used to. But after some time you just… stop caring. I mean, I’m not that big of an asshole to hold a grudge over a fucking scar, it even looks sick. But yeah, when it gets hard again all I can do is snort a line and move on.

“The coke smuggling was real?” you gasped, only focusing on the last sentence he said. Luke tried to keep a straight face but his facade fell the moment he noticed your wide eyes. Luke Castellan has the type of laugh that makes everything get fuzzy and makes you feel lightheaded, and all you wanted to do was to come up with bad jokes just for the sole reason of hearing him do it again. 

“Fuck, you really believe anything, huh?”

“Shut up, Castellan. I’ll literally stab you and let you slowly bleed to death,” you threatened, standing up from your place next to him. Luke followed you as you walked back to the cabins.

“You do know I’m the best swordsman in the last 300 years, right? Do you even know how to wield a sword?” he asked, matching your pace and walking next to you. 

“Low blow, just because I don’t like to indulge in violence it doesn’t mean I don’t know how to wield a sword,” you retorted. 

Luke snorted a laugh, “You don’t know, do you?”

“No, I don’t. Will you shut up now?”

“I only will if you accept to let me teach you how to fight tomorrow,” Luke said with a tilt to his head. He didn’t even give you a chance to answer because he walked away from you while saying a loud “Meet me tomorrow morning in the sword fighting arena.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

You were sure you were seconds away from passing out. It's been around two hours of sparring with Luke and your arms and legs were about to give out. The sun was starting to come out, which meant this torture was nearly over. At least that’s what Luke promised. “We’ll stop as soon as the other campers wake up, that way you won’t have to be embarrassed if they see your… skills.”

The two of you circled each other, your swords were raised and Luke’s blade was pointing straight at you. Luke took a second to study your stance before lunging forward, his sword meeting yours as you quickly blocked his attack. “Not too bad, huh?” Luke teased before trying to get another hit, his moves becoming more calculated the longer you kept blocking his advances. Proving he wasn’t called the best swordsman at camp for nothing. 

With a disarming maneuver you weren’t aware of, Luke was quick to throw your sword to the ground and have you stumbling back, not being able to regain your footing. Luke gave you a smirk when your body hit the ground with a small thud, “That was easy,” he said, “We should do this more often.” 

“Nope, this is a one-time thing, Castellan,” Luke rolled his eyes before bringing the blade of his sword closer to you, reaching for your chin with a glint in his eyes. The blade met your chin and Luke lifted it, making you meet his gaze as he slowly made you stand up by raising his sword even higher. 

The two of you stood still, staring intently into each other’s eyes until you heard it—the sound of the Ares Cabin making their way to the arena. Luke let out a surprised shit, dropped his sword to the ground, and walked closer to you, cupping your jaw with his right hand and kissing you. 

Your lips met in a hurried collision, causing the same fire from yesterday to set in your stomach. Your hands moved to Luke’s hair, softly pulling it as the kiss got heated. You knew this was fake, you knew this kiss meant nothing to him… but you didn’t want him to stop. “Holy fuck, are you two always sucking each other’s faces?” Clarisse’s voice cut through the moment, causing you to pull away from Luke, unable to meet his gaze. 

“Yeah, that’s what being in a relationship entails. I don’t think you’d know much about it, La Rue,” Luke breathes out.

“Don’t you have weed to sell or a cheap bottle of vodka to down, Castellan?” 

“Aw, you know me so well,” Luke answered before picking up both of your swords and grabbing your hand, walking away from the arena. 

The following days were (and you hated to admit it) filled with the most fun you’ve ever had. Luke would come up with some insane idea for a fake date and it would always end with one of you lying about seeing a camper or hearing Silena’s voice as an excuse to make out with each other. 

There was this one time the two of you were having a picnic by the strawberry fields and the day ended with the two of you hiding in the empty forge while making out, running your hands over each other’s bodies, and doing the normal stuff fake couples always do… it all happened because Luke swore he heard Valentina’s voice near the fields. (You were sure Valentina had been on the stables that entire day because she had cleaning duty, but why wouldn’t you play along with something you also wanted to do?)  

It was Sunday–the last day of your fake relationship–when Silena finally found the guts to talk to you about Luke. You even felt slightly bad for the girl because she was so nervous when she sat next to you in the dining pavilion. 

“I..um... I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” she began, “Well, there are lots of things for me to apologize for, but I think it’s pretty obvious what the main problem is.” 

“The way I’ve been treating you is not okay and I’m really ashamed of it. You shouldn’t have to feel pressured to be the person we want you to be, I used to see you as someone who couldn’t do things on her own and always needed someone to push her and help her handle everything… and now I see I was wrong,” Silena explained, running a hand through her hair. 

“It’s fine, Silena. I don’t mind.”

“Well, I do. You’re strong and more than capable of doing things on your own, and you don’t need me to try and help you or fix you.” She took a deep breath. “I didn't know you were dating Luke, and to be honest I didn’t even know he was your type. He is so… weird and I never would’ve guessed you were dating. I mean, Drew told me he does cocaine and—”

“He doesn’t,” you interrupted.

Silena raised a brow before continuing, “Anyway, I’m sorry if I ever made you feel bad for just... existing. And you always look so happy after hanging out with Luke, I truly hope the two of you stay together for a long time.” 

You didn’t even know how to explain the situation so you just blurted out “I broke up with him.” 

Silena looked shocked for a few seconds before letting out a deep breath, “Oh, thank the gods. Just because we trust you it doesn’t mean we trust him,” she spat the him with so much disgust it made you feel sick. “You deserve so much better.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

This is probably the first time you have ever felt ill at the thought of seeing Luke. Sure, you used to be annoyed by his presence before the whole fake dating situation even started, but at least you were a strange type of friends back then. Not really close but also not complete strangers. There were times you’d catch him hiding his secret stash of weed behind the stables and didn’t tell anyone, and he’d always pay you back by lying to Chiron about you practicing your sword skills with him. (You had only used a sword once and it was years ago when you were still a new camper, you had no idea why Chiron would ever believe him.)

Luke was sitting in his usual spot by the lake, a cigarette in his hand. It had become a tradition for the two of you to always meet up by the lake before curfew to talk about your day and practice your kissing so it wouldn’t look fake. 

“Hey,” you said, taking a seat next to him. Luke threw his cigarette to the ground, stepped on it, and almost instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist, kissing your temple. “Blink-182?” you asked, nodding at the MP3 he had on his lap. 

“The Smashing Pumpkins,” Luke answered, taking his earphones off. “Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness is one of the best albums ever made.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I’ll take your word for it,” you said. Luke smiled and poked your side. 

“So, there’s something I need to talk to you about,” you began, but Luke held up his hand as a way to get you to stop.

“Can I say something first?” he asked, looking shy for probably the first time since the day you met him. 

You nodded and let him take the lead of the conversation. “Alright, so… I’m kind of shit with words so I’m sorry if this doesn’t make any sense but this past week has probably been the best week of my life. And I’m not even fucking around, I don’t have many friends–apart from Annabeth, and getting to be with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Being your friend is the greatest gift the gods have ever given me, and sometimes I feel like I don’t even deserve it. I’m a mess of a person, and you’re well… you’re you,” Luke stared deeply into your eyes, “And I just wanted to let you know that—”

Luke didn’t get to finish his sentence because this time it was you who cut him off with a kiss. You could taste the cigarette on his lips as he brought you closer to him, running a hand down your back and deepening the kiss before pulling away and moving to kiss your neck. 

Luke began to trail kisses down your throat and only stopped to whisper a low “Look at you, what would Aphrodite say? I’m sure she’d be proud.”

Aphrodite.

You pushed him away the moment you remembered your mother. “Silena apologized. We can stop pretending now.”

Luke was silent and just stared at you, his fingers moving to fidget with the wire of his earphones. “Oh, right,” he cleared his throat. “It’s Sunday, I forgot.”

You knew he didn’t.

“Yup, so we can go back to normal now,” you said, looking away from his eyes because you knew it would only take one look into them for you to kiss him again.

“Good,” Luke stood up, not daring to even shoot you a glance, and walked away. Leaving you alone by the lake with the lingering smell of his cheap stolen cologne mixed with the cigarette he was smoking. 

It didn’t help that you were welcomed into your cabin with hugs and your siblings congratulating you for breaking up with the son of Hermes. Sure, you weren’t the perfect sister anymore because you dated Luke Friendless-Freak Castellan, but knowing they liked you just because you were with him and then broke his heart made you want to set the cabin on fire. 

The main rule of the Aphrodite Cabin was something your siblings were extremely proud of, but the thought of its existence made you want to storm into Mount Olympus by yourself and yell at your mother for putting all these useless ideas into their heads. 

For a child of Aphrodite to prove themselves, they must make someone fall in love with them and then break that someone's heart. 

Is it possible for the rule to backfire? For the child of Aphrodite to accidentally fall in love with someone and then break their own heart because of it? You didn’t even know if that was an option, but you were sure that’s exactly what you were going through right now. 

It was hard for you to go to sleep that night because your mind kept replaying the past week on a loop. Your conversation with Luke by your cabin. The night of the bonfire. The conversation by the lake about his scar. Sparring with him. Going on a million fake dates. The night on the forge. Your last conversation with him. 

“Look at you, what would Aphrodite say? I’m sure she’d be proud.” 

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

You could feel Luke staring at you. Again. 

You were helping Annabeth strategize for Capture The Flag, because she had the brilliant idea to have the Athena cabin team up with Hermes and Aphrodite. You didn’t know much about fighting and spent most of the time sitting with your sisters during the game, but that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy helping them come up with new plans. 

Once the three of you were done, Annabeth excused herself with an awkward “I think Malcolm wanted me to help him go through some maps. You two have fun… chatting!” and left as fast as she could, leaving you alone with Luke. 

You watched her leave the amphitheater and turned around to face Luke, “I can see why you like her. She’s so much like you.”

“Yeah, she’s like my little sister.”

The silence was so uncomfortable you almost broke down crying. You nodded and turned around, not being strong enough to face him, and walked away. You could hear him behind you, following you.

“Can we talk?” he pleaded.

You were about to open your mouth when Drew’s voice made you turn your head. “Gods, Castellan. It’s so embarrassing to still be hung up on your ex.” 

Luke sighed, “Hello to you too, Tanaka.” 

“Can you leave her alone? She doesn’t want to talk to you,” Drew said through a fake smile. 

“Oh, really? Did she tell you that?” Luke answered, tilting his head as he spoke and making eye contact with you. Wordlessly begging you to please talk to him. 

You stayed silent and looked away from him. Luke let out an incredulous laugh before nodding his head. “Good to know you’re back to being their little pet.” 

Drew rolled her eyes and walked away, shoving Luke as she walked past him. “So? You’re just not going to say anything?” Luke said. 

“What do you want me to say, Castellan?” 

“Tell me that last week didn’t mean anything to you,” Luke answered, his voice trembling. 

“Why do you care? I thought I was nothing but Drew’s little pet,” you replied, trying your best to not look weak in front of him.

Luke ran a hand through his hair and stepped closer to you, “I’m sure you’re thinking the exact same thing about yourself.” 

You hated that he was right.

The truth made your blood boil. “I don’t want any of your shit,” Luke let out a genuine laugh this time, a mocking look in his eyes. “Oh, so now she can curse?” 

You hated him for seeing the real you. You hated him for knowing the truth. You hated yourself for loving him.

“Fuck you, Castellan,” Luke hummed before stepping even closer to you and placing a hand on your waist, leaning to whisper in your ear. “I’m sure you’d love to do that again, right?” Luke’s smell was taking all over your senses and making your knees go weak. He continued, “Because even if we do it in the darkness of the Forge… it is still two friends fake dating because your mother might be watching.” 

You found the strength to press your hands against his chest and push him away, “Don’t talk to me ever again.” 

You spent the rest of the day with your siblings and friends, too afraid to leave their side because you didn’t trust yourself. Because you knew that if you were left alone for a second—you’d run straight to him. 

You sat next to Silena in the dining pavilion. Helped Katie and the Dyonisus cabin grow more strawberries by keeping them company. Walked with Michael to the bonfire, and stayed with Drew throughout the entire singalong. 

As always, Luke was sitting by himself, his MP3 player in his hand and his eyes were set on you. 

You walked back to your cabin when the singalong was over and helped your siblings get ready for bed. You were about to go to sleep when Valentina whispered your name, saying she had something for you.

“We found it last night under your bed, Drew wanted to give it to the harpies but I managed to take it away from her,” a frown made its way to your face.”What do you mean?”

“We found this,” She pulled out a badly wrapped gift from under her pillows. You were confused until she told you to open it.

 It was a bright pink MP3 player. 

“Oh,” you whispered, your hands shook as you stared at it. “I’ve got to—”

“It’s okay,” Valentina whispered. “He’s probably by the lake.”

You gave your half-sister a hug before running out of your cabin, and making your way to the lake. You could see Luke’s silhouette in the distance, and the sight only made you run faster.

You took a moment to catch your breath before saying, “The Smashing Pumpkins?”

Luke turned around at the sound of your voice. “Blink-182” he answered with a small smirk.

“Uh, of course,” you said as you walked closer to him. “Alright, listen. You were right.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Oh, fuck off,” you continued with a smile. “So, it turns out I may or may not be in love with this certain guy, and he may or may not be my type or whatever it is my siblings say.”

Luke took a step closer to you. “There’s a chance this guy thinks I’m going through a phase and only fake dated him to piss off my siblings and mother but the truth is… I don’t even care about them whenever I’m with him.” 

His hand moved to caress your cheek, “That’s cute and all but how does this guy know you truly mean that?” 

“I’m not going to make out with him at the bonfire, so I guess all he needs to do is believe me,” you whispered, your eyes moving from Luke’s eyes to his lips.

Luke smiled before answering, “Believe you? That’s alright with me,” and pressing his lips to yours.

Luke was right. Aphrodite would be proud. 

[beneathashadytree]

HEY GUYS! LONG POST HERE, BUT PLEASE READ🙏🏽

I am genuinely appalled by the discourse ongoing in the LNDS fandom these past few days—but above all, I am severely disappointed in what had started out as one of the most inclusive and sweet fandoms I’ve ever been in. I have a few things to say, so in this post I’m trying to put all my thoughts to words. Apologies if I sound harsh, but I’m genuinely livid. Also, please ignore any typos. I’m not wearing my glasses while word-vomiting.

First off, for a fandom that is composed of mostly adults, you guys have been acting terribly childishly. It’s 2024, and yet people are still unironically shaming others for “switching up on their favs” as if a person owes 2D characters any loyalty. Let people enjoy things. The novelty of Sylus and how he’s quite literally 6 months behind the other 3 love interests makes people want to catch up on the enjoyment of him all at once. He’s still such a brand new character and concept, so there’s no wonder everyone’s hyped up over him.

I’ve seen people get genuinely mad at other players and writing whole think-pieces about this. I promise you guys, the company making this game is still benefiting whether you’re pouring your money into Sylus or any one of the previous 3. We’re all happy to have an interesting character pop up among the roster now, and we’re taking our time getting to know him. Doesn’t make any of the first 3 any less loved. I genuinely don’t remember this amount of nastiness when solo events for each of the guys used to drop.

In fact, if the popularity thing is worrying you, going off MLQC (the company’s past game) the character who was last added was—eventually, after the initial hype died down—kicked off to the sidelines in most major events and was given the least content, and was the least favorite of fans.

Secondly, and this has my blood boiling, there is an insane amount of entitlement and rudeness I’ve seen on my timeline concerning how people characterize the men—particularly Rafayel.

Absolutely nothing warrants this shitty attitude towards other creators for how they depict characters in their fics. It seems you guys feel protected behind a screen and think it gives you the right to bully strangers online. Fanfiction is for fantasizing about your favs; for letting your imagination run wild. If this were a character analysis, then yes, maybe I’d agree that inaccuracies are aggravating. However, in fanfiction, there are zero rules, especially when it comes to smut.

Sexual preferences are not equivalent to a person’s whole personality—so whether he’s written as a dom, a sub, a switch, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, this has nothing to do with his kindness, gentlemanliness, passion, power, ruthlessness, snark, or whatever minuscule aspect of his character makes up his lovely whole and matters to you.

I think this circles back to a lack of ability to separate sexual matters and personality, because how else do people interpret fics depicting him in a certain manner as them erasing his character? They might overlap, but they can very well be mutually exclusive. I’ve seen incredibly sweet and gentle men irl who were absolute doms in bed, and I’ve seen powerful and passionate men who were reduced to tears between the sheets. There is barely any correlation whatsoever, and if anything, claiming otherwise is what I consider piss-poor media literacy and reading-comprehension.

My third point is that for some reason, there have been many, many posts and replies on here where I’ve seen people just straight-up spread pure hate for the characters. Maybe this bothered me in particular because I’m an OT3 (OT4 now!) and absolutely adore all of them, but I find no logical reason for “yucking someone’s yum” when we’re talking about liking the characters of an Otome game—a genre of video games which is made to literally cater to the tastes of as many people as possible.

It’s especially disheartening to see when it’s at a time like this, when new content is about to drop, and you find in the replies of every other post/discussion at least a few people spewing hate and disgust at Sylus. Again, so many people are incredibly excited about him. Why is there a need to rain on everyone’s parade, especially in such an unsolicited manner?

This fandom originally started as a safe space for people of all races, backgrounds, genders, sexualities, and personalities to bond over our mutual love for characters. All I’ve seen on my TL lately (in terms of discussion) is negativity, and it’s such a fucking let-down. I hope whatever the fuck has happened to this fandom cools down after a bit. It’s probably exaggerated and very in-your-face rn, cause more and more people are downloading LNDS, so the probabilities of finding people being nasty are increasing. But I seriously don’t want to grow to resent this fandom and find myself distancing myself from it to protect my peace.

Let’s all remember to be kind towards other players, to not act entitled or bratty about the characters, and to try and mind our own business if we see content that doesn’t suit our tastes.

[i-mean-y-not]

ACCEPTANCE

Connie’s mother doesn’t care for you. In fact, you heard that you were the worst thing that happened to her son.

You can’t cook she says.

You’re a little too thick she says.

You don’t dress appropriately she says.

You don’t give a damn is what you used to say. But as the years go on, the worse it gets. She’s a short thing. Maybe four foot five on a good day. But her words dig at you every chance they get. Her heritage makes her that way she claims to Constance—what she and no one else calls him.

You’re in love with a man that never stood up to his mother.

Never defended you. Wouldn’t raise his voice at her in the slightest. And definitely wouldn’t bring you around for the longest time.

Connie says his mom has always been like this. Disapproving of every woman he’s ever brought home, and you begin to realize that the pattern has nothing to do with the women and everything to do with her. The rest of his family is kind, welcoming, you feel as though you’re part of the family around them. But his mother is one of the most disingenuous people you’ve ever met in your life.

You try your best when you first meet her. Bring her flowers, a fruit basket, and even going out of your way to buy her a personalized recipe book.

Connie often bragged about his mom’s cooking and said that her dream before she had all eight of her kids was to open her own restaurant. You figured this would be the closest thing that she would get.

But when you showed up looking modest and bearing gifts, she scoffed at you. And in her heavily accented voice told Connie, something that sounded very much like an insult. He merely rubbed at the back of his neck and grimaced.

You love him. That’s why you stay. But love is beginning to unravel your insides.

You never want to go to his family’s house for events. And to be honest, you don’t want to be seen with him. So when he leaves you stay home, claiming that you have errands to run.

When he asks, “Hey fat butt, wanna run to the store with me?” The only answer you give is a quiet shake of your head.

He notices immediately.

And he doesn’t chalk it up to hormones, or emotions, or even insecurity. He simply thinks you’re mad at him. He pesters you about it, often. With three months that it’s been happening, he hasn’t figured out the reason for your distance.

So when Thanksgiving rolls around he asks again, you offer another half truth and decline.

This time, however, he doesn’t let you get away with it. He pauses with his shoe halfway on his foot and lifts and eyebrow and question.

“What do you mean?” he responded to the answer you just gave him. It was a simple, no, but somehow his mind can’t warp around that.

“ I mean no, Connie. I’m going home.”

He looks at his you again albeit briefly. “Right, so what time will you be ready?”

Your eyes shifted to the side in slight confusion and instead of thinking the question you ask it out loud. “ Ready for what?”

In a clearly exasperated tone he declares, “To go to my parent’s house.”

Now you sigh and take a brief moment to collect your emotions. You ride to your feet slowly and mumble, “I said I’m going home, Connie.”

He looks off to the side and shakes his head slowly as if you’re the dumb one. “Yeah, I know. And your home is wherever I am so, get up and get dressed.”

You blink several times in irritation and your face is full of irritation when you say, “Did you not hear me, Constance?”

He hates his full name.

You’re not sure why. Maybe it’s because of the dead dad that he’s named after. Or the way it doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. You know this, but you figure the only way to get him to listen is to piss him off.

That’s all you’ve been doing lately, both of you. He pisses you off by not listening, and you piss him off by not obeying. He takes a calming breath, and after putting on his simple, simple, gold chain, the crosses arms in indignation.

Connie is multifaceted. He could be extremely frustrating when he doesn’t get his way, but he can also be extremely accommodating if he does. But today. Today, it seems like the accommodation is going out of the window.

He pinches the bridge of his nose before uttering, “Fuck is there your problem?”

The one thing you won’t tolerate is disrespect.

So you fold your lips, before you say something you shouldn’t. Then, you take a few steps towards the closet and nod.

“Okay, Connie.” He takes it as a win.

You can see it in the way his lip quirks up slightly. You grab a nude sweater, khaki pants and thigh high brown boots. Once you’re done with your simple make make up you turn your head back to him.

“Ready.” To him it looks like he’s won. But you it looks like you’ve lost.

The small smile still fades on his lips when you snatch your keys off of the hook by the front door. “What are you doing?”

He grabs at your hand in frustration. “I’m driving.”

“You’re pissing me off. You know that?”

You give a small wince when you utter, “Likewise.”

This conversation has been a long time coming. And you’re itching to scream out your injustice. He watches as you put your keys back on the hook where they belong and proceed to take the bathroom. Your makeup takes you all of ten minutes and once you’re dressed, you’re reaching for your keys once again.

He’s there in a flash. Grabbing your wrist, gently, but with enough pressure to let you know he’s there. It doesn’t scare you. He shuts his eyes for a brief moment in what you assume is frustration.

How funny is it now that the shoe is on the other foot. Before an argument ensues, you swipe some lip gloss on and smile gently. “I’m going home, Connie and that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I just love me too.”

That does something. Although you’ve never really voiced it, he knows. Your tolerance, acceptance even is a challenge. Showing up to dinners and gatherings you weren’t invited to made things much worse than they were. Through it all you grin and bear it. Not because you want to, but because you love him.

That love outweighs the pain of rejection. But that love doesn’t come close to healing already irreparable damage caused. He sits his keys down and then he turns to you with the most sincere look on his face. His caramel turtleneck compliments his eyes and the khaki chinos tie in with his mahogany loafers.

“Okay,” he says, and holds his arms out when he sits on the bed. “Come here.”

You hesitate, not because you’re scared but because you’re worried that this conversation is way beyond its expiration date.

He pats at the space that he’s intentionally left open for you between and his legs and you’re sinking into his embrace immediately. As soon as you’re in his arms he begins his declaration. “First of all, let me say this. Even if I could live a million lives, I’d want to live them with you every time. Being with you isn’t a choice, princesa. You understand? You affect my whole being, my very existence.”

Damn if he isn’t dramatic. With a small smile into his shoulder you begin to murmur. He can’t hear you.

You can barely hear you, but he grasps your chin and his hazel green eyes glows as he hums in question. “What’s that, mami?”

You look up and your lash line is already wet when you say, “I’m tired, Connie.”

His lips turn into a sad smile and he nods in agreement. “I know.”

Somehow he gets you to acquiesce and not before compromise. He takes you to your parents and you laugh and talk for about two hours before you’re saying your goodbyes. The car ride is silent to his mom’s house. You’re literally twiddling your thumbs in anxiety. Despite your feelings, you’ve decided that it doesn’t matter. You love him and although he’s selfish sometimes, and cries at beauty and the beast, he’s still yours.

And you are his. It’s in the way he holds your hand and drags his fingers over your knuckles. The way he cries when you do. But the reason you stay is simply the way he gets you. It takes a look to understand what you’re feeling and an errant sigh to put him on alert.

When you greet his mother—this time empty handed— she gives you that same depreciating look over. Once again your stomach unfurls in anxiety, but this time, Connie squeezes your hand lightly. He walks past her and gently gives a small nod in greeting.

You’re sure the entire family can sense the discord between you three. Connie, however acts as if this behavior is normal. Blatantly disregarding his mother when she asks a question it speaks to him in general.

When you sit at the Thanksgiving table to eat, you’re lost for a little bit. Albeit, being with Connie for two years has given you a glimpse into Dominican society, and let’s not forget the language.

It all comes to a climax when you ask Connie for a bottle of water at the dinner table.

Almost as soon as he disappears through the kitchen doorway, she mumbles, in plain English, “She has two legs.” Your eyes snap to her at the head of the table and with a little laugh you nod.

You don’t think it’s disrespectful to stand up for yourself. Quite the opposite, you believe. As you’ve gotten older, you’ve gotten much more comfortable with saying what you want.

“Mrs. Springer? Is there a problem?” Your tone isn’t abrasive or rude and you patiently wait for an answer, genuinely confused. What had you ever done to deserve the treatment you’ve received? Not a thing you can recall.

So you draw your shoulders back and look at her straight in her eyes. “Is it because Connie is your baby boy? Or the fact that you just don’t think I’m worthy? I’m trying my best to make your son happy, but I can’t- I won’t deal with this anymore.”

There’s an almost frightening hush over the dinner table and when the hairs rise on the back of your neck, you know that Connie probably heard every word that just came out of your mouth.You can’t bring yourself to apologize. And you won’t. Although you know he’s behind you, the words you push out of your mouth taste like bitter bile.

“I will leave your son,” you declare. Your voice breaks as you continue and a tear falls down your cheek. “I will. He is the love of my life; but I will.”

“Like hell you are,” Connie grumbles from directly behind you.

He grasps your hand in comfort as you continue. “I know that he loves you and he wants approval from you that he’ll never get. I’m not your punching bag, I won’t even get in the ring with you. So if you want a fight, I forfeit. You can have him all to yourself.”

The hand that Connie has grabbed feels a tight squeeze and that’s all it takes for you to close your mouth. He takes over from there.

With a nod at you he whispers, “Get your coat, mami.” Your mouth pops open in confusion, but he simply offers you a smile.

“Trust me.” And you do, irrationally so. Not because you love him, but because he’s never given you a reason not to. So you leave, because he asked you to. The walk to get your coat is the longest. In the modest five generation home that has one bathroom and three bedrooms, it takes you way longer to get your coat than it should. The underlying message was to stay with the coat.

But you can’t help but wait just beyond the entryway of the kitchen as Connie—for the first time you’ve seen it—corrects his mother. A mix or English and Spanish is spoken and being around him long enough, you pick up a word or two. His family from the left side of the table—which is what you can see— all sit with their mouth agape.

You understand when he begins to speak in English, code switching, I’m sure to drive home his point. “I love her and I’m going to marry her. If you want to be in my life anymore, this has to stop. I appreciate you and I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done, but I’m my own person and you don’t have to approve of the woman I love. You’re going to stop disrespecting her or these little gatherings? Don’t bother inviting me to them anymore. ¿Tú entiendes?”

The silence that rocks the entire house is stifling. This is what you wanted. Right? But somehow, the joy doesn’t compare to the hate you just realized you have for Connie. All this time, he hasn’t opened his mouth to defend you and now that he has…you think it might be too late. The realization hits you like a current at sea that sweeps you away before anyone can notice. It’s a scary thing to fall out of love so quietly you never see it coming.

Neither does he.

“Let’s end this, Constance.”

The words come out louder and softer than you intend. His newly trimmed head snaps towards your voice and his eyebrows wrinkle in puzzlement.

“End what?”

He says and by the look in his eyes, he already knows. So when you motion a hand between you and him limply, he lets out a small chuckle. “We’re not ending anything, __.”

Connie would never force you to do anything let alone beg you to stay, but the tears that form on his waterline makes you second guess that entirely. And for a moment, you completely forget his family is here.

That is until his mother emits a sound that sounds very close to a snort.

“Take me home, please.” you request, calmly.

With his eyebrows drawn so far down you’re afraid they’ll reach his nose, he breathes out, “You are home, princesa.”

His hand taps at the middle of his chest and the tears you’ve been holding onto for two years come spilling out. You don’t want to do this in front of his family. You don’t want to do this at all. But you want to be free again. Not to explore other options but to cherish the man you used to love.

You don’t say another word.

You don’t have to.

With your coat in hand and your phone in the other, you’re walking right back out of the door you entered.

He follows. Of course he does.

“Hey,” he whispers with a hand at your wrist. “What’s wrong?”

There’s a waterfall coming down your face when you reply, “I’m done, Connie.”

“With me?” Is his immediate reply.

You take a step back out of his reach and rub at your arm to comfort yourself. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Why?” His voice sounds garbled, like he can’t quite get the word out without fighting through emotions that physically pain him.

“She’s never gonna approve of me.” He shakes his head quietly. “Doesn’t matter.”

You want to believe him, but you can’t. The faith you once had in him has essentially vanished. Despair replaces it. “It does! That’s your mother and I’m tired of fighting a battle I’ll always lose. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

His sadness gives way to anger now. It’s spoken in the way he shoves his hands in his pockets and tongues at his cheek. “After two years?” 

You don’t know how to respond, honestly.

If you’re being completely transparent, you’re not sure you care. All this anguish that pours out of him is the same feeling that’s been pooling in your gut ever since you met his mother.

You don’t intend to be cold but you simply ask. “Can you take me home?”

You see the fight leave him.

His hands find their way out of his pockets and they shake when he grabs the keys to his car and unlocks it. He opens the passenger side door for you to get in silently and closes it gently once you’re in the seat safely. He gets into the drivers seat and looks over at you, face red and brimming with unchecked emotion.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You simply respond, “ I know.”

[whalesforhands]

what’s yours is mine (8/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

“You should stop hanging around people like me.” It’s said with a grunt of conviction, low and throaty and trying to sound too much like he didn’t care. Like it didn’t mean anything if you left him.

(The only reason you can tell is because Satoru does the exact same thing.)

And you only ever have a single reply to statements like that, despite all your confusion about the origins of such things.

“Nope.” You pop the ending sound, kicking your feet up as you finish off the rest of your crumbled snack, dusting your fingers of biscuit dust as you dab your hanky against your lips. “You’re stuck with me now.”

Just like how he’s stuck with you.

“What?” He lets out a dry laugh, disbelieved green eyes narrowed down at you as the scar on his lip stretches out into a lazy grin. “Don’t tell me ya think of me as a friend or somethin’?”

“No.” He’s partially wrong, you’re pretty sure. “Adults and kids can’t be friends.”

They’re not allowed to. Something about ethics, about danger, about candy and chocolate and not even your favourite pudding. You don’t remember the whole thing, but you know kids and adults are not allowed to mix together like that.

Not allowed to be like you, Suguru and Satoru.

That’s what your Mama always taught you. That it was for the best, that you should always be careful. So you definitely think you know better as your head is tilted to the side and you point a finger at him; before directing it at yourself with that familiar grin on your face.

“So you’re my teacher and I’m your disciple.”

“The fuck?”

Mhm. Sounds about right. You nod to yourself, a proud hand on your chin as you give a pat on your own back for not only sticking to Mama’s words, but also finally claiming the scariest, biggest kid-adult around as your mentor.

Things are going perfectly as planned.

“I’m gonna get as strong and as scary as you are so that nobody can ever mess with me again.”

That’s right. You’ll grow so strong that everybody would fear you just as much or even more than Satoru— Then they’ll finally like him more. Finally be able to talk to him because they’re more scared of you than they are him. Nobody can ever make fun of Suguru, talk badly about your Mama or better yet— You can be the one that beats up all the ‘piss ugly freaks who beg to have their faces pummelled in’ like Mister Teacher here always says.

(It’s totally fine because your teacher does it too, right?)

“And what makes ya think I’m gonna teach you anything, brat?”

Well, you haven’t really thought that one through. That’s a very good question. As expected of your teacher.

“Cause I’m helpful and cute.”

‘Helpful’. Also known as using the very last of your well-loved, wacky band-aid collection on him. Your absolute favourites that you just couldn’t bring yourself to use that had been offered up to him the times you see him collapsed against the bench and snoring away.

So you took the liberty of pouring water on his cuts and heartbreakingly parting with your precious, precious band-aids.

All is part and parcel of being a hero, anyway.

(And the cute part… Mama always tells you that you are, anyway.)

“I’ll even buy you those big protective gloves so you can stop hurting your hands when I’m older and have a job like my Mama.”

“Pfft— Yea? What are ya even gonna work as to afford those?”

You barely hesitate in your reply, the turn of your head far too quick as the apples of your cheeks show through your excited smile.

“A hero.”

“And if they don’t pay enough?”

Well. You never really thought about that. Does being a hero really not pay as well as you think? Come to think of it… You’ve never seen Sailor Moon get paid. It seems like being a magical girl doesn’t come with a celery.

(Can you really pay for things in vegetables? You’ll ask Mama to help you grow some. Even if you don’t want to eat them…)

“Justice will always be rewarded.”

And this Mister that you talk to too much finally starts laughing, slapping his knee as he starts howling with laughter and snorting through his nose. It was loud, it was free.

Without a care in the world.

“You’re one dumb fuckin’ kid, ain’t cha?”

At least he’s smiling again. Even if you’re pretty sure he was making fun of you as you pout at his head that was positioned too high up upon his shoulders.

(Or maybe his neck was too long?)

“You can’t say that if you’re my teacher!”

“Then ya can’t yell at me if y’er my disciple.”

——

Even if one good thing comes to fruition, you should never be too comfortable with what the future may have in store for you. Small, minuscule little things always add up to big ones, snowballing into a problem that you just didn’t foresee before it comes hurling down towards you.

That’s what the astrology charts said, anyway. You didn’t understand then, but you think you do now that it has really ‘come to fruition’. Surely, it couldn’t be any truer now as your hand is slapped away, the smack echoing throughout the playground as your eyes widen and your skin stings with a feeling too unpleasant.

“I don’t wanna hear it! Don’t talk! Be quiet!”

Usually, Satoru telling you to shut up in 3 different ways would be less hostile, would have less weight to them. Usually, those sky coloured eyes wouldn’t glare at you with so much hatred, wouldn’t have so much pressure that threatened to pummel you to your knees.

(Because this is still your Satoru, isn’t it?)

“B-But Ieiri-chan and I are—“

“How many times are you gonna break our promise?!” His face is dusted with red— Not the sweet cherry shade that you were used to seeing when he got embarrassed or shy. The air felt like it was pricking you, prodding at you uncomfortably as you shrink in on yourself whilst nursing the area that hurt way more than you thought.

That’s why it irritated your eyes so much, right? Did the air always smell so hostile? So uncomfortably angry and horrible and heartbreaking?

“I told ya so many times that you can’t be friends with anyone other than me! That you’re not allowed to betray me! That you promised me!” It came out as an angry squeak, something adults would probably laugh at— Yet it felt like he was hammering nails into your heart as a lump builds up in your throat and the thrumming of your heartbeat against your chest becomes too much.

“Are you even trying anymore?!”

He’s right. You’re fine with your classmates whispering things whenever you walked past, fine with their trailing eyes and quiet gossips about how you’re just kissing up, fine that they’ll never truly like you for you just because you chose to associate with the Gojo family.

But you never once thought that being called a horrible friend would hurt this much. It tore through you, guilt riddling your very being as you whimper and bite down on your lip, trying to steady your breaths as you tried not to cry.

Because do you even deserve to? You’re not the one who was hurt in this situation. You’re not the one who kept true to the promise you made all those years ago.

“I-I really—“ Really didn’t mean it. Truly. It’s not a secret that you want to be on friendly terms with anyone willing to talk to you, not a surprise that you’ve been waving to and greeting the easy-going girl whenever you see her in class.

But it seems everything has a breaking point.

“I’m s-sorry…” Your hands bundle up the hem of your shirt, sweat getting absorbed by the cotton fabric, your head that tilted downwards as tears began to drip from your eyes and phlegm built up in your throat as you hiccuped your words.

“I didn’t mean to h-hurt you, Satoru…”

Because you never meant for him to feel this way. You’ve always taken him into consideration, always wanted him to be happy when he was with you; beside you.

It was your fault for trying too hard to find workarounds, to mistakenly believe that it was still fine to interact with someone who you thought was an outlier to the promise.

(Or was it simply your fault for wanting to make a decision that was far too selfish?)

And he doesn’t even say anything else to you, only the feel of his eyes stabbing into your conscience before you hear him stomp away, his familiar sneakers kicking up sand that left you in the dust as you’re left behind in this setting sun that casted your shadow behind you, growing longer and longer the more the light dimmed.

“Kimi-chan! I wanna go home!”

“G-Gojo-sama, are you not going to play a little longer? There’s still quite a bit of time left before you—“

A beat of silence.

“Understood, Young Master. I will prepare the car to send the both of you back home.”

Maybe you deserve this, you think. Maybe this was the punishment you had to bear as you’re sat in the back of the car all on your lonesome as your now silent friend makes nay a sound in the front seat.

Separated from you. Not even saying goodbye to you as Kimiko-san opens the door for you, her apologetic eyes and a polite bow as you’re left behind in the cloud of dust formed behind the car.

Silently waving it goodbye.

So you think you definitely deserve it as you drag yourself to your front door, past the genkan and kicking off your shoes as you kept your gaze stuck to the floor and your hands frantically wiping the wetness from your eyes when you hear the shuffling in the kitchen and the clatter of the lid against a boiling pot.

Your first ever fight. Or would it be more accurate to say— Your first ever fallout with anybody at all? You don’t know how to process it, what you’re gonna do now that you were left without an answer to your teary apology and small voice.

“What’s wrong?” Her hand is in your hair as she pats you, your chopsticks suddenly feeling too heavy as you blink back into reality, your blurry gaze finally focusing back as you shake your head lightly—

“But you haven’t touched any of your food.” And you realize that you’ve only been blankly staring down at the steaming bowl of rice, had barely touched any of the meatballs that your Mama made.

“Is the soup not good? I forgot to pick up the miso today so I had to make do with salt.” Her chopsticks clack down as she picks up her own bowl, bringing it up to her lips as she takes another taste for good measure.

“No.” Because you aren’t the type to want to worry your Mama, not the type to want her to think too much about you whilst she’s hard at her job.

“It tastes really good, Mama.”

Not the type to want to bother her with problems that were solely your own. Especially when she’s been coming home with dark bags under her eyes and a tired smile on her face when she kisses your forehead in greeting each and every time.

She’s strong, so you want to be strong too.

It’s your own secret for now, because you want to hide this. It’s your choice, something you made for yourself as you hurriedly scoop more rice into these lips that told too many lies and kept a secret from your own Mama that you always claimed to love so much.

“Yua-sensei just gave too much homework today.” You add a smile at the end just for good measure, forcing the bright grin you usually show her as you stuff another meatball into your mouth.

Maybe you really are not as good of a kid as you thought. But you sincerely hope she believes you, hope she can fall for it— Even if it was just this once.

“I’m here if you need any help, okay?”

“Mhm. Thanks, Mama.”

You’ll solve this. You think you can’t… But you’ll still do your best to, anyway.

It’s a problem you caused.

“Are you okay?” The towel in his hair is haphazardly thrown over his head, his voice a prodding question to your conscience as you limply hold the other paper cup telephone in your hand.

“Did something happen while I was at training today?”

Your nightly talks with your Suguru.

“No,” Your voice is barely audible even through the makeshift telephone, throat scratchy as your shoulders slump even further and you think you might want to hide away forever. “But you need to dry your hair before you catch a cold…”

Because for some reason, you feel too ashamed to even face him right now.

“Speak for yourself first, (name).” His head is propped up against his arm as he raises a brow, looking at you and your still slightly damp hair from your bath as you continued to wipe off the tears that just refused to stop falling, that refused to pretend that everything was truly as alright as you wanted to make it seem.

The moon was out, and the sky was clear. So it made that the only other witness to your quiet, wordless sadness as you stare down at your hand, the sting of the hit long gone— For it just wasn’t hard enough to cause enough harm to you.

“You fought with Satoru, right?” It’s suddenly voiced out and almost scares you— Almost makes you start sobbing outright there and then.

How… Do the people around you always read you so well? How do they always tell that something’s wrong with you despite all the effort you put into hiding it? Were you bad at lying despite doing it so much? Were you doomed to simply be called a liar that wasn’t even good at the one thing they were labelled as?

(So much for lying for the ‘greater good’.)

“…cause you keep looking like you’re gonna cry.” That’s a lie. You know he’s telling a lie so that he won’t make you feel any worse, so that you won’t feel so embarrassed. You know he’s telling a lie because you were already crying, your stupid tears that just kept falling no matter how hard you’ve tried to keep yourself in check, no matter how hard you bit down on your lip or how hard you’ve tried to muffle your sniffles.

You’re the most hopeless, worst liar ever.

“Do you like her?” His voice is soft and whispered and low so that it wouldn’t startle you, trying to blanket you in his caress despite the distance between your windows. “Ieiri-san, I mean.”

Ah. You should’ve expected him to already know.

But to answer his question… You do. You really do. She wasn’t like the rest of the kids who questioned you on your relationship with the Gojo child, wasn’t like the other kids who judged you simply because you didn’t exactly fit in with the rest of them or because you didn’t really like playing outside during break.

So, you pathetically nod in reply, wiping snot off from your philtrum and trying really hard to find your voice, trying really hard to be honest so that you wouldn’t lie anymore.

So that you didn’t have to pretend like nothing was wrong.

“I like her.” You really, genuinely do. Even if she was hard to read, even if she takes things too lightly or seemed like she didn’t care… She always proved that she did in the end. Maybe it was giving you an extra of the magical eraser you’ve been secretly eyeing in her pencil case, maybe it was letting you lean on her shoulder as you read her shoujo manga beside her.

And maybe it was simply the feeling of having a girl friend that made your heart soar with a feeling unlike the times you hang around your best friends. It was like an unsaid bond, something akin to finding someone with likes too alike yours that it just didn’t make sense to not continue to hang around her.

“Hmm.” His voice is just as tender as ever even if he was simply thinking about your answer, his gaze on you turning unreadable as you wipe away another tear, stifle another sniffle.

Try to act like you really, really weren’t crying.

“And if Satoru and I told you that we didn’t,” You can see how those purple eyes of his glinted with an emotion you didn’t understand, shone with the shimmers of the moonlight that reflected from them as you try your hardest to steel yourself for whatever was coming next.

“Would you still be friends with her?”

Oh. How… Do you reply to this?

“I’m sorry for making you choose. Please don’t cry.” If only he were there beside you, if only he could be there to hold you and tell you that he would tolerate anybody that you liked. If only he could confidently tell you that he wasn’t jealous, wasn’t trying to convince you out of something that you wanted— Only then would he finally be able to fearlessly go over.

Alas, he’ll keep it to himself. He’ll tell himself that it really is all right, tell himself that he can make compromises if it could prevent you from ever crying ever again.

It would be worth it then.

“Then… I won’t try to be friends with her anymore…” Not if you’ll lose the 2 who you think are worth more than whatever you’ll ever be able to count in this life, a bubble of phlegm in your throat clearing when you cough out your reply through your tears.

“I-I don’t like making either of you sad…”

And it locks into silence afterwards, a reply unheard from your poor paper cup that you were just too afraid to soil with your tears as your handkerchief soaks yet another round of your childish dejection.

“Please don’t cry.” It now sounds panicked and not at all alike the

And maybe, just maybe— His words make you think just that little bit more as your own mind swirls in on itself. Maybe you want something for yourself for the first time ever, want to make a decision that was solely you. A decision that would usually be far too dangerous, but for once, it would be your own nonetheless.

That’s how you won’t leave any regrets, right?

“But…” You swallow the lump in your throat again as your reddened, swollen gaze met his. “Would you both please meet her first…?”

Before they decided to hate her forever, that is.

It’s not the best plan, but it was your favourite. That was enough reason to pick it, enough for you to forego any of your other intentions in favour of this.

Because it gave you too much meaning for you to regret anything else.

Though, there was a very big hole in your plan. That being the fact that Satoru… Still won’t talk to you. Even on the way to school when you nervously squeezed Suguru’s hand as you both awaited for the familiar car to arrive, even when you both silently trailed after the… Suddenly sullen boy that refused to speak a singular word towards the both of you.

It’s a boon that you’re all only 8, otherwise your blushing, stubborn friend wouldn’t be showing up at school with his head held high, stubbornly sat next to you as he did his absolute hardest not to look you in the eye all throughout the different periods.

Even if he was— Quite literally, sat next to you. Mangas where best friends avoid each other are a staple you’ve read before— But it seems that the cliches of them being able to avoid each other entirely just didn’t apply in real life.

It doesn’t feel awkward, though. Just… Sad.

“Satoru…?” You visibly deflate when he doesn’t reply, your view of the back of his head being a constant throughout today that didn’t quite settle well with you. So you make do with a frown and dejected stare down at the math worksheet that he would’ve usually been pointing at and trying to make you understand by now.

But it looks like he still didn’t want to talk. Not even when all your trays of food have been cleared and lunch would be just about over in a little while.

“Satoru, seriously?” It’s Geto’s voice that has the snow-haired boy jumping slightly, a twitch of his shoulders and his crystal blue eyes narrowed when he pouts and glares at him with only the slightest, careful turn of his head.

“How long are ya gonna stay mad?”

He could’ve chosen to not come to school, could’ve chosen to go back to his private lessons within his too big home…

But he chose to come here, still. So it means something, right? It definitely does when he finally gets called out by the most sensible out of the 3 of you, finally losing his deity-like patience the moment you’ve given up, his small hands tightly holding yours to comfort you from the all too stubborn, hard-headed friend you both had.

Gojo Satoru was not good at talking. Sure, he can talk anyone’s ear off about Digimon, can go on and on about cakes and how they could be interlinked with the wide world of physics, why his favourite soda brand should be the only one allowed to exist and so many other arbitrary things.

But he was still no good at talking. He can’t speak wholeheartedly like you do, can’t express his emotions so softly like Suguru does— He can’t do it well lest it shows the vulnerability a Gojo does not reveal.

A Gojo does not show weakness. They were raised to never do so, that’s why he’s roughly pushing a neatly wrapped box of cookies that had been crumpled when stuffed into his Digimon backpack, hurriedly snatching up the note very obviously left behind by a certain maidservant for encouragement as he blushes and glares down at his hands.

‘You can do it, Young Master Gojo!’ ٩(^‿^)۶

“K-Kimi-chan said t-this is good apology food so!” The burning tips of his ears grow ever hotter as it’s accidentally shoved off the table and falling onto your lap, curious purple and your own eyes meeting; going down to the box of cookies— And up to the extremely red Satoru that looked like a massively adorable contrast to the waves of ocean blue of his starry eyes.

“S-So just eat it and— And… S-sorry, okay?!”

You should’ve known that your Satoru has always been this way, your hands going up to your cheeks as you perk up and smooth out the crinkled wrapping paper,

“Thank you…”

(“There! I said it!” His blushing face was growing increasingly ashamed as his amethyst-eyed best friend pats his back from behind, your arms wrapped around his neck from the front as you simply can’t help the smile stretched onto your face.

“I’m sorry too, Satoru.”)

(But you still have to break the promise. Just one last time as you pull away from his hug, taking a deep breath and squeezing Suguru’s hand as you prepare to ask for quite possibly— The impossible.)

——

“Ah.” Ieiri Shoko finally sees why you were so nervous when you asked her to come over to play, why the look on your face was so deathly serious and almost constipated looking that she thought you were inviting her over so as to declare a fight to death— Or something like that.

You weren’t exactly the most normal kid around.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” She nods towards him, clearly unimpressed with this situation as all 4 of you sat within Suguru’s room, warm, untouched milk in your cup as you all sat around the low table.

“Gojo.”

Wait. What? Did she just call him by his last name with no honorifics? This— Was the first time they’ve ever looked at each other face to face— To your knowledge, anyway.

Then there could only be one explanation as you watch your cute friend practically chug down another glass of strawberry juice out of pure irritation.

(“At least have some manners when people are talking, Satoru.” Your poor host can only sigh as he watches the boy pout and glare at him, his red cheeks puffed up.)

“You… Guys know each other?”

“Mhm.” Said like it was the obvious thing ever.

“Hmph.” Huffed out in disgruntled acceptance.

“Our parents do.” She twirls a strand of her hair, neatly done up into a cute half-up braid around as she takes another sip of juice. “Our families tried to set up an arranged marriage with us once.”

What?

“I told ya she was trouble.” Your Satoru’s the one leaning his head on your shoulder, hugging you tightly to him as he glares at the intruder that dared to try to steal his precious friend. “Are we done? I wanna go play!”

“Wait— Is that why you hated her so much, Satoru?” Now Suguru’s the one looking almost disgusted, shocked and everything in between as he grimaces at the spoiled kid. “She didn’t even do anything. It was her parents.”

“She’s guilty by default!”

“The arrangement didn’t go through though,” Her cup clanks against the coaster upon the low table as her posture grows increasingly lax and unlike the ‘proper, elegant’ first impression people would see her as.

“Cause he kept rejecting it and I kept skipping out on our play dates.” She even couples it with a wide, dismissive open-mouthed yawn as her head meets your other free shoulder.

(You’re out of shoulders to lend to Suguru.)

“Hell would freeze over before I even considered marrying someone like him, though.” Because if she was considering marriage candidates, she would want someone more docile, gentle. Someone who actually listens to what she has to say. Someone like y—

“Yea, yea!” He’s huffing angrily as he lightly shoves her head off of you. “I don’t wanna marry someone like you either, Shoko! Blehhh!”

And you feel a tug of your arm towards her in retaliation, your body simply going limp as you just allow it to happen. “(name) and I would be a good fit, though. Maybe I’ll ask my mama to set up a marriage with her.”

Oh. You recognise that lilt in her voice, that sneaky grin on her face—

She’s teasing him. And doing very well at it.

“Haah?! Have ya gone insane, ya ugly hag?!” And it’s almost painful— With how hard he tugged you towards him.

“Maybe you’ve failed to consider how unmarry-able you are.”

“Well, (name) thinks I’m cute, you hag!”

“Cute doesn’t mean handsome.”

Left. Right. Left. Right. You’re basically being pulled and thrown about like a ragdoll by two opposing forces as your eyes spin and your head goes even more confused. The only saviour and your saving grace now is—

“Suguruuuu!!!” Your hand reaches out towards him for help— Barely heard above the yelling between your two friends as your confusion whirls even harder. Yet all you feel is Suguru’s familiar hand holding yours— Before he joins the pile of limbs on the floor, tightly hugging your free front and stealing any free hugging space from both of your suitors.

“No. Satoru got to spend all his time beside you and you haven’t played with just me in a while.” And you know him. Know your pretty friend so well that you can almost exactly decipher what he meant.

‘I’m jealous. So this is your punishment.’

At least you all get along now, right?

——

“Another bowl please.” Your Pokemon themed bowl that your Mama found at the department store was absolutely cleared of rice, a stray grain sticking to your cheek as you grin and plead oh so cutely for seconds.

“You seem to be in a good mood today.” She chuckles as her thumb swiped at your face, her hand warm against your skin as you giggle.

“Mhm. I’m really happy today.”

“Oh? And why is that?” Her movements are slow and careful, pressing a button that made the rice cooker pop open carefully as she scoops up another paddle of rice.

“Cause I keep thinking about the movie I’m gonna watch this weekend.” The one that Satoru had been talking your ears off of as he speaks through his snacks, making Suguru click his tongue and Shoko grimace in disgust as you simply listen intently with a sparkle in your eye.

The one that you had so nervously asked for permission so that you could follow them to the theatre for as you stood before your contemplative Mama, skittishly looking up at her with a timid smile and the tooth that had finally fully grown in— An ‘adult’ tooth as everyone calls it.

“You’re growing up too fast, you know?” Her hand gently ruffles your hair as you giggle slightly, picking up your no-longer training chopsticks. You’re even using the ‘adult’ utensils too. “Soon you won’t even need me to take care of you anymore.”

“Nope!” You swallow the mouthful of rice and egg as you chew too hurriedly. “I’ll make sure to need you forever and ever, Mama.”

“Is that so?” A playful pinch to your cheek.

“Mhm.”

“And what if I grow old and wrinkly and can’t move anymore, hmm?” Her hands thread through your hair, lightly smoothing it out first before the feel of your hairbrush glides through.

(You’ve been a bit into doing your hair a lot recently. Shoko must have rubbed off on you.)

“Then I’ll buy you super cool robot legs so you won’t feel sad that you can’t walk!”

You’re already 10, after all.

(2 years until you present.)

previous masterlist next

[vashiguro]

give me tough love— toji fushiguro x fem reader

you always seem to bring out the worst in toji.

𓆩⟡𓆪 tags fem!reader meandom!toji toxic relationship established relationship unsafe sex degradation namecalling dacryphilia use of handcuffs breeding size kink size difference

𓆩⟡𓆪 word count 4.7k

𓆩⟡𓆪 author's notes hello yes this has been published on ao3 so do not accuse me of stealing lmao this is my work i just have decided to migrate onto tumblr a bit

toji’s big. he’s always known he was big— big in all senses of the word.

six foot three in high school, now six foot six as an adult, he can never find the right pants in a regular department store that cover his ankles or match his waist; it’s always one or the other. shirts never fit his chest or arms and shoes are an even bigger hassle.

big hands, big feet, a big fucking cock.

he’s never been one of those people that exaggerates his size in an attempt to show off because he’s never had to. when engaging in the teenage boy act of comparing penis sizes, he could proudly boast his own size and whip it out for proof if it came to it (not that he ever did). no because toji is big, and even on the laundry list of things he’s lied about in his life, his cock has never been one of them.

he’s never measured himself— his ego’s big enough as it is— but if he had to put a number to it, he’d say he’s a solid eight inches when erect.

and toji loves how fucking big he is compared to you.

he loves how he can pin you with just one hand, whether it be squeezing your thighs together, pinning your hips down, trapping your wrists above your head. he gets off on watching you squirm and try to push him off, your hands clawing at his arm as you whine about how mean he is.

he’s not denying it, no, he is an asshole. toji loves using his power, his dominance, over you, especially when he’s pistoning into you, dangling your release right over your pretty little head. it’s just out of reach and he finds it absolutely precious to watch you try and form a coherent sentence from the babbles falling from your lips.

but he hasn’t done that to you in a hot minute now.

the two of you have been arguing nonstop for the past week now. neither of you remember how it started because, when that topic is even alluded to, you argue over it too; neither of you can take it. toji claims it’s because you’ve been being a bitch lately and you say it’s because you’re fed up with the way he bullies you.

you go to work, you come home, but you keep your distance from toji, not giving him so much as a glance when he enters whatever room you’re in because both of you know, snarky remarks will be exchanged and bombs will be dropped.

and when you guys argue, there’s absolutely no middle ground. toji’s hard headedness coupled with your stubbornness continues to add fuel to the fire. it’s almost exhausting because neither one of you will admit that you’re wrong and neither of you are willing to negotiate. 

so you’re ignoring him and you have been for the past 24 hours. no arguing, no yelling, nothing. just cold silent treatment. toji thinks it's childish, the way you're sulking about and pouting like a damn child.

you don’t even come to bed tonight which really pisses toji off. he didn’t think you had the nerve to do something like that, to show him up like that, but when the clock strikes midnight and you still aren’t in bed, he realizes how serious you’re taking this shit.

truth be told, this isn’t your guys’ worst argument. more than once you’ve left to stay with a friend or your parents because you just couldn’t handle being in toji’s presence without lashing out, so to him, this is child’s play. he isn’t taking it nearly as seriously as you are. he’s simply playing along to entertain your pettiness because you’re pretty fucking mad at him.

but he’s getting tired of it. you haven’t tried anything bratty with him, haven’t touched him in a week, and he’s itching in his own skin at the feeling of being so sexually frustrated. he can’t even jack off because he doesn’t want to look like a pussy to you. he doesn’t want to see how bad you’re messing with him by actually standing up for yourself.

but when you don’t come to bed, it’s not just because you’re mad at toji; it’s because you’re out. you snuck out and he didn’t even realize it. he doesn’t realize until he actually leaves the bedroom and notices your purse is missing and you aren’t on the couch.

oh, you have fucking done it now.

the closest thing to toji, he doesn’t know what the hell it was, is picked up and chucked against the wall. you had the audacity, the absolute nerve, to ignore him and go wherever the hell you felt like just because you were mad at him? and at this time of night? he’s less worried about the threats that lurk in the night and more concerned about where you are.

nearing one in the morning, the only possible places you can be are the club or the bar.

and either option pisses toji off. he can only imagine what you’re wearing. something revealing, something tight, something showing off all your assets that should be reserved for his eyes only. you’d be all dolled up and he’s not even there to see it. some perv is looking at you, thinking about taking you home for the night, and it makes him livid.

he considers calling you, considers lashing out at you over the phone and berating you for disobeying him like you did, but that would prevent you from coming home and that’s the last thing he wants.

because, right now, he wants nothing more than to put you in your place.

toji leans against the kitchen counter, his head bowed low and his eyes shut. his arms and chest are heavily striated due to how hard he’s gripping the counter, and if it weren’t granite, the countertop probably could've snapped from the pressure. he’s genuinely rocking back and forth, running solely on adrenaline and pure anger.

toji’s never put his hands on you, he’s never even entertained that idea, but right now, he’d do anything to put you in your place.

he can hear your keys jingle on the other side of the door. he never liked how much shit you have hanging from your keychain; all those random plush animals and souvenir-type shit he found unnecessary. he can hear the keys fall, you swear under your breath, and the lock jiggle as you attempt to find the key to the front door.

toji can only hope it’s because it’s dark and not because you’re inebriated. 

he’s moving across the apartment to meet you and you’re not even halfway through the door before toji’s slamming it shut and cornering you against the wall, your eyes only inches away from his bare chest. you let out a gasp of surprise and clutch your purse against your stomach.

toji’s eyes sweep over your body and his intuition was correct. although your mouth doesn’t smell like alcohol, you carry the scent in your hair and on your dress. and that dress was fucking skin tight; you look like you can barely breathe. it’s black and strapless and your tits are practically spilling out of the top. he’s never seen it before and, frankly, he could care less where you got it at this point because he’s only moments away from ripping it off your body.

“where the fuck were ya?” he growls, his tone leaving no room for any funny business from you. “huh? ya really have some fuckin’ nerve, sneakin’ out dressed like that, girl.”

you let out a scoff, but toji hits the door above your head harshly with his hand, immediately removing any ideas of retaliation in your head. to be fair, he was asleep and he’s a heavy sleeper. you didn’t drink for a reason; it’d be difficult to explain why you’re hungover in the morning if you had gotten away with it.

“dressed like what?” 

“like a slut,” he spits. “you’re dressed like a two dollar whore and ya smell like liquor, so where the fuck were ya? and don’t ya dare lie to me right now.”

you grit your teeth at his harsh words. toji’s not nice, especially when he’s angry, but he’s never called you a slut or a whore unless he was fucking you. in an attempt to look away, toji grabs your face with his hand, harshly squeezing your cheeks and pulling you towards him. it’s dark and the rest of the apartment is shrouded in darkness behind him, but you can see his face clearly now and the rage is undeniably there.

“look at me when i’m talking to ya. answer my question.”

you swallow your pride and blink up at him, trying to muster up any last remorse you can from him before he snaps. “i was at a club.”

toji laughs to himself, but there’s nothing funny about that. he’s squeezing your face a little too hard to the point that it’s uncomfortable, but you don’t dare to give him lip right now.

“ya snuck out and went to a club dressed like this?” he reaches behind you and grabs your ass, eliciting a sharp inhale from you. “and what was your goal, huh? did ya get the googly eyes ya wanted? did ya plan on fuckin’ the first guy that looked at ya?”

“sorry” is all you can get out.

“sorry ain’t gonna cut it this time.”

in one swift motion, he lugs you over his shoulder, gripping the underside of your thighs. you drop your bag in the process as you attempt to claw at his back and squirm. you kick your legs, but your dress is hiked up and he uses the opportunity to plant a harsh slap to your ass which makes you yelp.

it stings, but knowing him, this might be the most mild punishment he could’ve given you, so you don’t open your mouth.

“don’t try nothin’ silly with me right now,” he warns, “or i swear to ya, ‘m gonna make ya fuckin’ regret it.”

in an instant, you’re in your bedroom and you’re tossed onto the bed like you weigh nothing. the sheets are disheveled from toji’s restless sleep while your side remains perfectly made, an unpleasant reminder of why you’re in this situation.

“i’ve tried to make amends with ya, baby, i really did—” he leans over and grabs your dress from either side— “but you’ve really done it today.”

you didn’t think he’d be able to do it, but he tears your right off your body. the sound of it ripping is mocking, a fat middle finger in the face from toji since you dared to disrespect him like you did.

you’re vulnerable before him, only your panties blocking his eyes from what he really wants, but that flimsy piece of fabric is not enough to hide everything. he squats down at the foot of the bed and parts your thighs, revealing your inner thighs. it’s humiliating, like you’re being spayed by his eyes alone, and the cool air from the overhead fan doesn’t help.

it’s condescending, those green eyes. “you’re a fuckin’ whore. you’re wet from this? or did some other man get ya worked up, huh?”

he runs a finger over your clothed slit, grazing over your engorged clit, making you whimper. you too have felt the repercussions of this argument; you’ve never been so pent up in your life. you easily could’ve masturbated, but in your true, stubborn nature, you had no intention of giving toji that satisfaction.

“n-no,” you stammer. you attempt to shut your thighs, but his grip on them is iron tight. “not another man.”

“so i got ya wet from beratin’ ya?” he sounds surprised, but the look on his face shows that he’s pleased with himself. “god, you’re fuckin’ pathetic.”

you can feel your throat sting, a precursor to waterworks. you don’t know why it’s upset you, toji’s always mean before sex, but coupled with sexual frustration, it’s enough to make you emotional.

“it’s not,” you mutter. “i can’t help it.”

“ya can’t help it?” toji mocks, his voice low and patronizing. “you were gonna get fucked tonight whether it was on my cock or somebody else’s, weren’t ya?”

that’s not true, but you can’t tell him that. you can’t tell him that maybe you would’ve teased some drunk sleaze and let him touch you, but you wouldn’t let him fuck you. but toji doesn’t think that’s true and the last thing you want to do is tell toji he’s wrong.

a pitiful whimper leaves your lips. you’re not saying anything, so in toji’s mind, he’s right. and you’re in no position to test him.

once more, he’s destroying your clothing. the light pink panties you wear, a personal favorite of his, were the ones he first fucked you in in the back of your car. even back then he was close to ripping them up; he merely pushed them to the side to slip his cock in. but this time he rips them clean in half, tossing the remnants atop the disfigured dress on the floor.

“answer me, whore,” he snaps. he raises his hand and lands a heavy hit on the inside of your thigh, making you wince. “were ya tryin’ to get fucked tonight? were ya really that desperate?”

you frantically shake your head. a tease! you were trying to be a tease if anything! he slaps the inside of your thigh again, this one more harsh than the former. it stings and you can almost feel the imprint of his hand engraved into your thighs from those two hits alone.

“‘m sorry, toji,” you mewl as you watch him rise to his feet.

“and what’d i say? sorry ain’t gonna cut it.”

you watch as his hand disappears into his nightstand and you feel your stomach tighten. the sound of metal on metal doesn’t help, and when he pulls out those handcuffs, you know you fucked up.

and it’s not the fuzzy ones from some sex shop. toji got these when he himself chose to run away from an officer (you're still unsure how he slipped out of them). they’re a little janky because of it, but they hurt. he only ever whips them out when he’s pissed because he knows that they hurt you. they dig into your skin and bruise them, causing your wrists to ache for days after, especially because he tightens them so much.

he grabs both your wrists in one hand and tugs you towards him. “no, toj, please.”

“shuddup.” he seals your fate by locking them tightly around your wrist and tossing the key back into his nightstand. “i’m fed up with your shit.”

the bed creaks as he climbs onto it. settling in his spot, he lies down, his back propped up against the headboard. he grabs the chain that holds your cuffs together and pulls you towards him. you can’t help but wince as the serrated insides dig into your wrist.

“get on,” he tells you. “you’re ridin’ me ‘til i tell ya to stop.”

your cheeks flush and your heart drops. toji knows how much you hate riding him. he’s too big for you and he knows that. you can barely take him in missionary or mating press, and on top, he’s constantly bumping against your cervix and there’s nowhere for you to move but right back down on it.

“toji.”

“quit bitchin’ and get on my cock.”

with no room left for argument, you fumble with the waistband of his sweatpants and push them down his thighs. you swallow hard at the sight of his print against his boxers and you’re careful when exposing him. toji holds it up with his left hand and uses his right to pull you over his thighs.

“i don’t got all day, doll,” he grumbles. “let’s go.”

he holds your bound wrists against his stomach and watches keenly as your slick pussy hovers over his angry tip. slowly but surely, you lower yourself onto him, whining as it stretches you out. usually, he’s already fingered you and you’re somewhat prepared to take him, so you forgot how much it initially hurts.

toji, on the other hand, can’t help but chew on his bottom lip to contain his own pleasure. it feels like heaven, the initial tightness. that feeling compares to nothing; not his hand, not a sex toy, could fucking replace it.

“ah, fuck,” he grumbles. "shit. ya feel like a damn virgin."

it’s so fucking hard for toji to stay mad at you when you look so fucking precious riding his cock. the way your tits bounce, the way you whine and whimper, your pretty face scrunched up from breathing heavy.

you noticed when pulling down his pants that he hadn’t shaved (awesome). each time you move back down on his cock, you’re grazed by the coarse hairs surrounding the base and it makes you wince. toji doesn’t have a preference for whether you’re shaved or not (what kind of man would he be if he was scared away by a little hair?), but shaving is the one thing you usually ask of him.

not that you’re in any position to tell him what to do right now.

he kneads your ass with his hand, his way of encouraging you to grind further down on him. “you’re so good at ridin’ me. my cock was made for ya, wasn’t it, brat?”

“uh-huh,” you huff breathlessly. “it was.”

toji’s tip bumping against your cervix makes your head spin. before him, you couldn’t fathom the idea of getting off on vaginal sex alone. your previous partners were good, but they never had the confidence (or the size) of toji, and you only ever finished when they went down on you.

“such a dirty whore,” he coos. “so good at keepin’ my cock warm.”

he pulls down on your cuffs, breaking your posture slightly. toji grabs the back of your neck and brings your face down to his, pressing his mouth against yours. his tongue demands submission from yours and every noise is swallowed by him. your moans and whimpers serve as fuel to him; they encourage him to make you feel good. and the feel of that jagged scar adorning his lips is something that’ll never get old to you.

toji’s hands move to your inner thighs, gripping the muscles as they flex and relax with each motion. he loves watching you work for him. your legs burn and you’re shiny with sweat, and he can see you’re exhausted.

“toj,” you breathe. “‘m tired.”

toji lets out a low laugh and shakes his head. “ya think i’m gonna let ya get off that easily?”

he was. he was moments away from cumming, but he will only cum if he’s the one in control, when you’re flat on your back and he can see every ounce of him that cascades down your tummy and onto the bed. he loves painting your skin white and watching every bit of it settle on your soft skin.

god, he’s gonna get you pregnant.

“please, toji,” you beg, your eyes shiny with tears. “‘m sorry for being- being a brat. please- need t’stop.”

toji’s mean, he’s not evil. your pleas make him feel infinitesimally guilty and those fat tears welling in your eyes make him sigh and roll his own.

“you’re pathetic, ain't ya?”

in a moment, he’s grabbing you by your hips and flipping you over, pressing you flat against the bed. though teetering on his own pleasure, he pulls out of you, hissing as your walls tighten against him.

toji traps your arms above your head while he pulls your labia apart, his eyes falling on your cute little clit. even in the midst of turmoil, you’re still toji’s needy little girlfriend. and what kind of boyfriend would he be if he ignored your needs?

his fingers dip into the warmth of his mouth before he reaches between your legs, applying gentle pressure to your clit. toji nestles his face into your neck as your silence is replaced by quiet whimpers.

he’s breathing near your ear and you can feel the kitten licks on the curve of your neck as his mouth latches onto you. the pressure from your cuffs, the pleasure from him toying with your clit, the pain from the formation of the hickeys, it’s all starting to become a little too much.

“ya really pissed me off today,” toji hums, his teeth grazing your skin. “didn’t think ya had it in ya t’disobey me.”

he presses your clit in between the pads of his fingers, making your body jolt. “to go out like that, dressed like a tramp? i mean, what if my family saw ya? saw my girlfriend wanderin’ the streets, lookin’ like a cheap slut.”

you let out a shaky sob as he pinches your clit again, only to soothe it with gentle circles. “you— you were ignoring me all day, toji. ‘m sorry. you were being so— so mean.”

toji huffs into your neck before pulling away. he looks down, his green eyes laden with indistinguishable emotion. he’s quickly moving down on you, his tongue licking every bead of sweat that cascades down your glistening body. your inner thighs match the rest of your body, wet and eager.

he hooks his arms beneath your thighs and latches onto your clit, sending a ripple through your body. it’s mind-numbing the way he uses his tongue. whether it’s flat and broad, or pointed and precise, you’re convinced he was blessed with his mouth solely to pleasure you.

“i’m mean because i need to keep ya in your place.” he’s almost too big to fit between your legs, but he makes it work by tossing your legs over his shoulders. “not callin’ no whore my girlfriend.”

his tongue glides between your slick lips before your poor slit is ravaged by his tongue. his thumbs are long enough to reach your clit and with alternating strokes between the left, right, and his tongue, you’re already on the precipice of the end.

“toji!” you whine as your wrists strain against your cuffs. “i won’t do it again! p-promise! i— agh, didn’t mean to, ‘m sorry!”

toji’s satisfaction is present as he looks up between your legs. with his eyebrows furrowed and the ghost of a grin on his arousal-coated lips, he’s got you where he wanted. it’s always delightful to put you in your place when you’re being a brat.

he’s pulling your clit in between his teeth, making you sob. his canines are so sharp and your bud is just so precious, but so tainted by toji’s malevolence. he knows he’s being cruel, but it’s all to make sure you never, ever try to leave him.

you’d be dead before you could even think about walking away.

toji’s not giving in- he’s pussy drunk. you’re melting on his tongue like a sweet piece of candy, something someone like him doesn’t deserve. watching and hearing you squirm when he’s barely putting any effort in holding you down just reminds him how delicate you are compared to him.

“toji, i’m g’na cum, toji,” you sob, your face ridden with tears. “‘hurts, toji. ah— hurts so- so good, toji.”

you’re aching from his tongue alone. you can’t fathom him putting his cock back in you, not when you’re already broken down like this. his nose is bumping against your clit and he sounds so fucking hot panting into your pussy. 

the slight sound of you squirting is enough for toji to orgasm right then and there. your body contorts and your back arches as your legs violently shake against his head, threatening to squeeze it. toji’s welcoming it, encouraging it, as his mouth enshrouds your urethra, allowing every drop to collect on his tongue.

it’s sweet, almost. so fucking sweet, just like you.

you’re still sobbing, your poor body already wracked from orgasming. but toji’s not done with you when he’s licking his lips and crawling up the bed like a predator. he dips down and licks those salty tears straight off your face, only making you cry even more.

“don’t cry yet, baby,” he croons, gently biting your cheek. “i ain’t even done with ya.”

toji encapsulates your wrists in his hands and presses his piquant mouth onto your quivering lips, a mere distraction from him pushing all the way into you. you’re immediately filled up to the hilt with that single motion, an intoxicating yet agonizing feeling. your cries are swallowed by his mouth, only to be overridden by his own moans of pleasure.

“fuck, baby. can’t stay mad at ya, not with this pretty lil’ pussy.”

your poor spongy walls clench desperately, still not accommodated to his size after all these years. he’s colliding with your insides with every stroke, relentlessly bullying the makeup of your body. it’s such an intoxicating feeling.

“always takin’ me so deep, doll. prettiest pussy i’ve ever fucked. so fuckin’ cute, y’know that?”

heavy balls collide with your underside, coupled with the sound of your pussy squelching and your sweaty skin briefly coming together with every thrust. toji’s molding your walls, only preparing you for what’s to come.

toji descends back on your lips with hot, wet kisses, practically slobbering over the entirety of your mouth. he’s emptying desperate moans down your throat while his thick fingers dig into your throbbing wrists, and for once, he feels pathetic. he’s never felt this needy for you before, never felt such a carnal desire to make sure everybody knows you belong to him, but when he saw you in that dress, he knew that simply lavishing your neck with purple bruises wouldn’t be enough.

he had to make a mark, a permanent one.

he’s always pulled out before, always respected your wishes to not risk it, but he’s had enough and tonight was the final straw.

“‘m g’na come in ya, baby. g’na make ya a mama, huh?”

choked sobs fall from your lips at his words. you have the financial capability to raise a child, but the mental capability? you’ve never seriously thought about it unless you missed a period or toji pulled out a little too late. you’ve always been told you’d make a wonderful mom, but hasn’t everybody heard that once or twice?

“toj,” you hiccup, your weak body just barely squirming against toji’s force. “you— you can’t say that. ‘s not funny.”

“not tryna be funny, doll.” each slap of skin on yours and puncturing stroke against your cervix brings toji closer to release. “y’hear ya pussy squelchin’ like that? poor thing practically beggin’ f’me to nut in her.”

it’s harmoniously taunting. you can feel your walls tighten against toji’s thickening cock, and as the pistoning only becomes more feverish, the end is near and the only possible finish is your inevitable pregnancy.

“jus’ imagine, baby. your tits swelled with milk, all puffy with my kid growing inside ya.” toji’s grip tightens on your wrists, practically welding the metal into your skin. “god, i’d never keep my hands off ya. can ya imagine that?”

you shut your eyes as tears dribble down your face, but you nod. you nod because you can’t help but imagine that, toji as a father. toji may not be the kindest person in the world, but when the two of you are in public together and a child is presence, there is an undeniable softness in his eyes that you notice. he’d never hone on something unless he wanted it badly.

“i know, toj,” you hiccup. “i love you, toj. love you— ahh, so bad. ‘m gonna cum— hah.”

“fuck, baby. shit, fuck, fuck— g’na cum, baby. wanna get ya pregnant so bad. need t’get ya pregnant, mama.”

toji’s strokes stutter and as he wraps a thick arm around your sweaty body, you can feel his cock twitch before your lower belly fills with warmth. it feels like gallons of his cum is being emptied into you, all ready to fertilize one single egg, and it’s almost a majestic feeling. as you hit your high once more, drenching the base of toji’s cock, he soothes your shaking body as he gently strokes your head.

you’re completely numb, but feeling completely euphoric. the feeling of toji’s arms around you is comforting. it’s knowing that it’s not a one time thing, that he wants to, needs to, stay by your side. you can barely breathe under the weight of his body as the both of your breaths intermingle.

“i love ya, sweet girl, so fuckin’ much.”

[fuzzyautumninmetal]

Little Thief

After like 5 months I've finally found time to write.

I'm aware there is very little Spanish in this but my only way of translation is google and If I'm correct it isn't very reliable.

Anywayyy I hope y'all enjoy

(This is just smut with a small plot)

You were the tech analyst for the Task Force 141, or as you call yourself 'The Tech Gal', you had been assigned to work for Los Vaqueros for a few months and it was a breath of fresh air. You struck up a friendship with Rudy and one night while you were drinking he dared you to do something people would claim extremely stupid. He dared you to steal the colonel's clothes.

"I don't know why everyone is so scared of Alejandro" you said while taking a sip of your drink, Rudy laughed "Have you not heard him when he's pissed off". You shrugged "I think it's sexy....Look that man could tell me to dress up as a clown in Spanish and I'd obey" you admitted and that made Rudy laugh "Okay I dare you to steal his clothes, let's see how 'sexy' he is then" he sipped his drink not thinking you would accept. "Price is my Captain. Ghost is my Lieutenant. Nothing scares me" you laughed back "I'll do it I'm not a pussy" you both shook on it and all you had to do was wait for the right time.

It's been a few days since Rudy's dare but you were waiting for the right time and when you saw Alejandro go to the showers you knew this was your chance.

You carefully and quietly sneaked into the guys shower room, you may have been the tech analyst but Ghost had shown you a few things, you saw that Alejandro was preoccupied. Perfect you smirked to yourself as you tiptoed towards his locker before taking his clothes.

You should of gone to straight to Rudy but you wanted to hear his reaction so you hid in one of the stalls with his clothes in hand.

"HIJO DE PUTA-" you heard him curse along with a loud bang from him slamming his locker door. You couldn't help but laugh, giving away your hiding spot.

The sound of heavy footsteps draws closer, and suddenly. Alejandro's massive frame is looming over you. His muscular arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes narrowed into slices as he stares down at you "So, you think this is funny?"

You tried to look serious but couldn't "Yes. Yes I do" you looked up at his unamused face "And also stupid. Look Rudy dared me to do it because I said I wasn't scared of you"

Alejandro's eyebrows raises in disbelief, his expression shifting from anger to amused curiosity. "So, you've been dared by Rudy to steal my clothes? And you actually thought you could get away with it?"

"Yes" you looked towards the door and then back at Alejandro trying to think of an escape plan. Alejandro chuckled deeply, shaking his head in disbelief. He reaches out and grabs your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes "You know, I could make this difficult for you. But instead, I'll give you a choice".

You looked at him innocently "I'm listening". His grip on your chin tightens ever so slightly, his gaze boring into yours "You can go to Rudy and tell him you couldn't go through with his little dare. Or... You can spend some time with me, and I promise to make it worth your while. "I-i" you were shocked at his response.

Seeing you surprised, Alejandro smirks, releasing his grip on your chin "What's the matter little thief? Didn't expect me to be so generous? Or perhaps you like the idea of spending time with me?"

Oh you would absolutely love to spend time with him but you was a kinky little whore who had a better idea. "Or you could let me go with your clothes, I tell Rudy it was a success and everyone thinks I'm mad for pissing you off" you smirked "Then, at any point, you take me by surprise and punish me for today."

His smirk fades, replaced by a look of amusement "You're full of surprises, aren't you?" he thought for a moment. "Very well. Take my things and go. But remember, I'll be watching you". You took his clothes and walked to the door before stopping "You can punish me in any way you want and I can't say no" and left to find Rudy.

As you made your escape, Alejandro can't help but shake his head with a mix of admiration and amusement. His mind is already planning out the ways he'll make you pay for your audacity... and the countless ways he'll enjoy it.

You found Rudy in the cafeteria and held Alejandro's clothes up for him to see. "You actually did it?" Rudy asked and you nodded while sitting down "Told you I wasn't a pussy".

"You better beware, little thief. I've got quite the taste for adventure now..." Alejandro mutters to himself as he walks away from the locker room, already plotting his revenge and anticipating the thrill of the chase.

It had been 3 days since you stole Alejandro's stuff and yet he hasn't done anything. That's the part that excites you the most.

The sound of footsteps echoed through the halls, drawing closer to your location. Alejandro's eyes darkened with anticipation as he rounded the corner, spotting you engrossed in your workout. With a sinister smirk playing at his lips, he approached slowly.

He stopped just inches from where you were sitting, his towering figure casting an ominous shadow over you. He leaned down slightly, his voice low and threatening. "Well, well... looks like our little thief is all alone." "For now" you smirked.

Alejandro's eyes narrowed at your defiant tone, but a slow smile crept across his face. He leaned in even closer, his breath warm against your ear. "You're playing with fire, little thief. And I plan on making sure you get burned." 

"You'll have to catch me first. and I'm fast" you made a run for it. It caught Alejandro by surprise.

With a growl of frustration, Alejandro sprinted after you, his muscular frame moving with surprising agility. He caught up to you in no time, grabbing your wrist roughly and spinning you around to face him. "You think you can escape me?" 

"Yes" you stepped onto his foot and ran off again. Everyone was either cheering for you or praying for you're safety. You turned to see a very pissed off Colonel behind you.

As you ran, Alejandro let out a grunt of pain from your sudden move but quickly regained his balance. His anger only fuelled his pursuit as he chased after you once again. This time, he was even more determined to catch you. 

You were running around the base endlessly trying to find a place to hide. You looked to see that you was free from Alejandro for a moment so you went into the first room you came across and hid. 

As Alejandro caught his breath, he realised that you had vanished from sight.  His mind raced as he tried to think as to where you could of gone. The door near him was slightly open, a mischievous grin spread across his face - you had led him straight to his own bedroom.

You quickly hid under the bed in the room and steadied your breathing to the point it sounded like you wasn't breathing. 

Slowly, Alejandro approached the door to his bedroom, his heart pounding with anticipation. He paused for a moment, wondering if this was really happening. With a sigh, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room for any sign on you. 

You saw his feet and froze, the longer you stayed away from him the worse your punishment would be. That's exactly what you wanted. 

Alejandro noticed your footprints on the floor, leading straight to his bed. A mischievous smile crossed his face. He knelt down, grabbing the edge of the bed and lifted it up slowly. 

You saw the bed lift up slowly and looked up to see him smirking, you grinned sheepishly before trying to get away but he was ready for you this time. 

As you tried to crawl away Alejandro grabbed your ankle, pulling you back to him. He stood up, towering over you once again, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and amusement. "You really thought you could outsmart me?"

"I mean I kinda did" you stood up, brushing the dust off your clothes. Alejandro put his hand on your waist and chuckled darkly, his grip tightening slightly. "Oh, you may have gotten away for a little while, but now it's time for your punishment"

You leaned back a little, bringing the back of your hand to your forehead "Oh what am I ever going to do" Alejandro's eyes flashed with lust as he pulled you closer to him, his other hand reaching down to grab your waist. "You're going to learn your lesson, little thief. And trust me, you'll enjoy every second of it"

You brought your face up to his ear and whispered "Oh I don't doubt it". His lips curled into a smirk as he continued to hold you captive with his gaze. Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bed, pulling you on top of him. "You're such a naughty girl hiding from me"

You put your hands of his chest "Oh what are you going to do to me Colonel?" With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Alejandro began to explore your body with his hands, tracing patterns on your skin that made you shiver with anticipation. "Oh, I think I'll do more than just punish you, little thief"

You brought your hands to his waist and push yourself up from his chest "a deal is a deal. You caught me so you can punish me however you want". Alejandro grinned triumphantly as he listened to your words, delighted by your boldness. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your lips as he whispered "Don't worry, I fully intend to take full advantage of that"

You bit your lip not realising what you have gotten yourself into and that made Alejandro chuckle softly, his warm breath tickling your lips as his continued to tease you with subtle touches. "You're such a tempting little thing" he murmured. "I think I'm going to have a lot of fun breaking you in"

You decided to be a brat one more time, when he walked into the room you noticed he left to door ajar slightly, now he was distracted you made a run for it once again. 

You could hear Alejandro's frustrated growl as you made your escape. "Damn it, little thief! Come back here!" He quickly gave chase, his footsteps thundering the corridor as he persuaded you relentlessly.

"No" you laughed. You passed Rudy as he shouted "I'll see you at your funeral". Alejandro's eyes flashed with anger as he chased you through the halls. He caught up to you just as you turned a corner, grabbing onto your arm roughly to stop your escape. "You think this is funny?"

"Oh I think it's fucking hilarious making you work for it" you twisted his arm slightly so he would let you go and ran for it. 

"Fucking tease" he muttered under his breath as he followed after you once again. He was beginning to lose patience, and the look in his eyes showed that he wouldn't be stopping until he had caught up with you. "I swear, If I catch you..."

You looked at your watch "What's that? Sorry It's home time" you smirked before running to your car. Since there wasn't any room for you on base, Laswell manage to find a temporary home for you while you were in Las Almas. 

Alejandro's eyes narrowed as he watched you run to your car, his mind already planning his next move. With a determined stride, he headed towards his own vehicle - a sleek black sports car that matched his dominant personality.

You laughed as you drove home, this was the most fun you've had in years. You were safe for one more day you thought to yourself completely oblivious of Alejandro's plan. 

As he drove, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of frustration and arousal. He hated being toyed with, but there was something about the chase that turned him on. His mind was racing with thoughts of what he would do to you once he finally caught you. 

Once you got home you had a shower and change into some comfy clothes before getting on with some chores around the house. 

Alejandro was waiting for you outside your house, leaning casually against his car with his arms crossed over his broad chest. He watched you walk around your house, a smirk playing against the corners of his lips. 

As you changed into something more comfortable, Alejandro's mind wandered to the tantalizing image of you naked. His body was tense with anticipation as he imagined how you would look underneath him. He couldn't wait any longer and decided to make his move.  

You were in your bedroom putting some clothes away but the squeak of a door caught your attention, you looked outside your bedroom window and saw his car. Alejandro had followed you home.

Alejandro's heart raced with excitement. He quickly moved towards your room, his footsteps silent on the hardwood floors. As he reached your bedroom door, he took a deep breath to steady his nerves before pushing it open slowly. He expected you to be in your bedroom but you wasn't, you hid from him again.

Alejandro's eyes scanned the room, searching for any sign of you. His mind was filled with possibilities of where you could be hiding. He knew he wouldn't rest until he found you.

You giggled from your closet, you knew this was one of the most obvious places to hide but you decided it was time to endure your punishment once he found you.

The sound of your giggles echoed through your bedroom, guiding Alejandro straight to the closet. His eyes narrowed as he slowly opened the door, revealing your smiling face peering back at him. He stepped forward, his body closing in on yours as he finally had you cornered.

You held your hands up "You caught me, I won't run this time I promise"

"Good," Alejandro growled, his voice low and threatening. He grabbed your wrists, pulling you out of the closet and pinning you against the wall. His body was pressed against yours, his hard cock straining against his pants as he dominated you completely.

Alejandro's grip on your wrists tightened, causing you to gasp in surprise. His eyes bored into yours, a mix of lust and dominance in their depths. "I'm going to punish you for running from me"

"Good" was all you said. A dark chuckle escaped Alejandro's lips as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "You're going to beg for it," he whispered, before capturing your lips in a rough, possessive kiss.

You pulled away "Oh but Colonel. I don't beg" you were playing with fire here but it was exciting not knowing what was going to happen next.

Alejandro's eyes flashed with amusement at your boldness. "We'll see about that," he growled, his hand moving to grip the hem of your shirt roughly. He tore it apart easily, revealing your smooth skin beneath.

You didn't move, you didn't cover yourself. Instead you decide to play with your nipples to see how he'd react.

Alejandro's eyes darkened further as he watched you play with your nipples. His mouth watered at the sight of them hardening under his gaze. "You're a tease," he murmured, leaning in to capture one of your hardened peaks between his lips.

You bit your lip as as he suck one nipple and you played with the other. Alejandro moaned against your skin, the taste of you sending a jolt of pleasure through his body. His hand moved to your other nipple, giving it equal attention as he continued to dominate you. "I'll make you beg,"

You cupped his face and brought it to yours "I'd like to see you try" you kissed his neck before biting into it. 

Alejandro's eyes closed tightly in a mix of pleasure and pain as you bit him. His hips began to grind against you, their movement mirroring the desire he felt for you. "Fuck," he groaned, his hand moving to squeeze your ass roughly.

With one strong arm, Alejandro picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. He followed you down, his large muscular body looming over yours. His hands moved to tug at your shorts and panties, desperate to get them off you.

"Someone's desperate" you smirked.

"You have no idea," Alejandro growled, his voice low and rough. He finally managed to pull your panties off, revealing your wet folds to him. His tongue darted out to taste you, lapping at your entrance like a hungry animal.

Alejandro's sudden intrusion caused you to cry out in surprise "Oh fuck". He thrust his tongue deeper, using it to stroke and tease your sensitive nerves. You couldn't help but squirm underneath him, your body aching for more.

You gripped on his raven hair and teased "This isn't much of a punishment"

Alejandro's eyes met yours, full of lust and amusement. "Oh, it's just beginning," he promised before pulling away from you. He positioned himself at your entrance, his hard cock pressing against you through his pants.

You sat up and started palming his cock through his pants but he pulled your hands away.

"No," he growled, capturing your wrists in his strong grip. "Not yet." He pushed you back onto the bed, his body following after. With one swift movement, he pulled off his pants, revealing his large, throbbing cock to you.

You looked at his cock with wide eyes, you had a feeling his was big but you never thought he'd be that big. Alejandro's eyes glinted with satisfaction at your surprise. "Do you like what you see?" he asked, stroking his cock lazily. You could only nod in reply, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of him.

He smirked before bringing his fingers towards your wet folds, "you won't cum unless I say you can. Do you understand?" he asked and you nodded.

Alejandro's fingers plunged deep into your folds, searching for your sensitive spots. He rubbed circles around your clit, increasing the intensity of the pleasure he was giving you. "Such a good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with approval.

You moaned while bringing your hands down and started playing with you nipples again. At the sound of your moan, Alejandro's fingers worked faster, stroking and pinching your clit with precision. He watched as you arched your back, pushing your breasts further into his view. "So fucking beautiful,"

You wanted to come so badly but you couldn't. Not without Alejandro's permission but you weren't going to beg for it.

Alejandro could sense your desire to climax, but you needed to beg him if you wanted to cum. He continued his assault on your sensitive areas, increasing the speed of his fingers. "You're so close, aren't you?" he asked, his voice dripping with anticipation.

"Y-yes" you chocked out. "Tell me," he commanded, his other hand reaching up to pinch one of your nipples hard. "Beg me." "Never" you said through your teeth. You've never begged a man for something in your life

"Oh little thief, you will," Alejandro promised, leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking hard. He increased the pressure on your clit, causing a wave of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm you. "Beg me."

"N-no. I won't beg"

Alejandro smirked at your resistance. "I love a challenge," he murmured, circling your clit with his thumb while pinching your other nipple between his teeth. He sped up, practically abusing your pussy with his fingers, you started to cry "God yes".

Alejandro's eyes glinted with malicious delight at your cries. "That's it," he murmured hoarsely, his fingers working magic within you. With another forceful thrust, he pushed two fingers deep into your wet core, hitting your G-spot perfectly. 

You looked at him, pleading him to let you cum but his dark chuckle made you realise he doesn't care "Unless you beg you can cum mi amore." 

Alejandro's fingers curled inside you, his grip tightening as he stroked and pressed against your most sensitive spot. You could feel your orgasm building, the intensity of it unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. "Beg me," he commanded once more.

You caved in, for the first time in your life you begged "F-fine. Please let me cum please"

The moment you begged, Alejandro increased the pressure on your clit and G-spot, pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed down on you like a wave, leaving you gasping and shuddering in its wake. "Mi amore,"

It was so intense, you had never experienced anything like this before

As you rode out your orgasm on his hand, Alejandro slowed his movements, his fingers gently tracing inside you as your body trembled and spasmed. With a soft grunt, he withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and licking them clean with a satisfied smirk. 

You're breathing was heavy but you knew this was just the beginning. "I always get what I want, mi amore" Alejandro whispered, his voice low and husky. He leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth as he claimed you completely.

You cupped his face and rolled over so you was on top of him. Alejandro flipped you over onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head as he gazed down at you with hungry eyes. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate the sight of your body beneath him, before leaning down to suck and bite on the sensitive skin just below your ear.

You locked your legs around his waist and tried to pull him down but he wasn't budging. You didn't deserved to get fucked yet

"So desperate little thief," Alejandro smirked, his voice rough with desire. He kissed his way down your jawline, trailing gentle bites along the way, until he reached your neck. "You need to beg for it." Alejandro got a kick out of your hatred for begging.

He carried on kissing down your body until his face was between your legs. With a smirk, Alejandro trailed his tongue along the soft flesh of your inner thighs, causing you to shiver in anticipation. He parted your legs wider, revealing your wetness to him as he leaned forward to take one swollen bud between his lips.

You arched your back in pleasure "Oh Alejandro". The sound of his name coming out of your mouth made him feral. You sounded so sweet, so innocent. He started sucking and slurping. He ate you out like a starved man.

Feeling your body tense and tremble beneath him, Alejandro knew you were close. He increased the pressure on your clit, pushing you over the edge as he felt you climax on his mouth. You moaned so loudly you wouldn't be surprised if you got a complaint from your neighbours but you didn't care.

Chuckling softly, Alejandro relished in your cries of pleasure as he savoured the taste of you on his tongue. He continued to stroke your inner walls with his fingers, milking every drop of pleasure from your body as he pressed a kiss to your swollen, sensitive clit.

He came up and kissed you. He wanted you to taste yourself on his lips. Alejandro smirked against your lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Mmm, you taste delicious," he murmured before leaning in to capture your lips in another deep, passionate kiss.

The kiss didn't last long as he soon had his hand around your throat. With a growl of desire, Alejandro pushed you back onto the bed, his hand still wrapped around your throat as he hovered over you. "Now beg," he commanded, his voice low and threatening.

"Ple- Please fuck me" you begged and it was like music to his ears. "That's it," Alejandro rasped, his eyes dark with lust. He lowered his body onto yours, guiding his thick cock towards your wet entrance. With a forceful thrust, he impaled himself inside you, filling you up completely.

"You're too big" you cried. "That's a shame" Alejandro growled, pulling out slightly before slamming back in again "If you hadn't ran away from me earlier" he pulled out and slammed back into you. "Maybe I would of eased you onto my cock" he pulled out completely before slamming back into you harder.

His pace quickening, he took you roughly, your protests turning into moans of pleasure as he hit deep inside you with each powerful stroke.

Alejandro's hand around your throat tightened in tandem with his thrusts, the rough treatment heightening both of your senses. His other hand found its way between your legs, fingers once again finding their rhythm as they teased and massaged your swollen clit.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" you was becoming a blabbering mess. Alejandro's thrusts became more erratic, his body tensing as he neared his own climax. "That's it, beg for me," he demanded, his voice laced with lust and dominance.

"N-no" you smiled, you was still trying to test Alejandro's patience. "What was that?" Alejandro snapped, pulling out almost completely before plunging back in with renewed force. His hand around your throat tightened even more, cutting off your air supply momentarily as he took you roughly and without mercy.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you screamed his name.

"That's it, call out my name," Alejandro growled, taking you deeper than ever before. Your scream echoed through the room, the sound of his name on your lips driving him wild with desire. "God please let me cum" you caved in again and begged.

"Not yet," Alejandro said, pulling out almost completely again before thrusting back in with a force that sent waves of pleasure through your body. His other hand left your throat to grab your hair, using it as leverage to pull your head back and expose your neck even more.

Alejandro's mouth descended on your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of bruises and kisses as he marked you as his own. His hips pumped hard and fast, driving deeper into you with each powerful stroke. "You're mine,"

"I'm yours, I promise" you clawed at his back, you needed to grab something. Anything. "Yes," Alejandro hissed, lifting your legs up and around his waist. He grabbed your hips and held you tight as he plunged into you with a force that made you cry out.

"Alejandro"

"That's right, say my name," Alejandro demanded, his thrusts becoming even more intense. He leaned down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth as he continued to claim you completely.

"Please" you whispered

"Please what?" Alejandro asked, his eyes were wild and his breathing ragged as he looked down at you with an intensity that made your heart race. "Please let me cum" you cried.

Alejandro growled low in his throat, a sound of pure male satisfaction. His hands gripped your hips tighter as he began to thrust harder and faster. "Cum for me," he commanded, his cock hitting your sweet spot over and over again.

You was finally allowed to orgasm.

Alejandro's hips bucked wildly as he felt you cum around him. He groaned deeply, his own orgasm hitting him hard and fast. His cock throbbed inside of you as he released himself completely, filling you up with his hot seed. "Fuck,"

You both held onto each other as you both rode out your orgasms. Alejandro held onto you tightly, his body trembling with the force of his release. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before pulling out of you, his still hard cock slipping out with a wet slide.

You laid there, all sweaty and a blabbering mess. Alejandro chuckled softly, his eyes roaming over your flushed skin. "You're a mess," he said teasingly, reaching down to run his fingers through your hair. He leaned in close again, nuzzling his nose against yours. 

"Are you okay?" Alejandro asked and you nodded your head lazily. With a satisfied grin he pulled you up and into his arms, holding you close against his chest. "I should start stealing your stuff more often" you chuckled.

"You'd better not," Alejandro said, a hint of playfulness in his voice. "Or else I might have to punish you again." He nipped gently at your earlobe before kissing it softly. "I'm okay with that" you smiled.

"Very well," Alejandro said, grinning widely. He claimed your lips in a passionate kiss before breaking away to murmur against your lips, "But you might not be able to walk straight for days." You playfully smacked his arm "then you can explain to everyone back at base why I'm not in"

Alejandro chuckled, his eyes dark with desire. "Oh, I'll make sure to take full responsibility for your condition." "Deal" you kissed him.

Alejandro deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a sensual dance. His grip on your lower back tightened, pulling you closer to him as his passion grew. He broke the kiss, looking into your eyes with hunger. "We should do this again sometime,"

"But not now" You laid down and pulled him with you, "Right now I just want to sleep" you giggled.

"Very well, sleep tight little thief" Alejandro said, his voice husky with desire. He lay down beside you, spooning you from behind. 

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 3.1

I thank my lucky stars every night that Yoko eventually got sick of playing secret-keeper.

Paul: I didn't leave the Beatles. The Beatles have left the Beatles . . . John said he wanted a divorce. Alright, so do I. See how they say “Beatles” and they mean each other sometimes?

Derek Taylor on John's position on the break-up: if Paul were to approach him and say “let's do it together again” he probably would; with no more words, he would probably do it. Which is an insane claim to make to a world full of people grieving the greatest band to ever exist unless you are very very sure of that probability. But if it's true that that's all it would have taken, and Paul didn't do it? That hurts my head a little. Do we think he was just hurt too bad to want it back? Do we think he didn't know he had that kind of power? Do we think he was glad to be free of the group?

Ugh my heart can't take it. I'd cry too, John, watching that. I mean look at how they are looking at each other. Look at everything they've lost in a year. I'd bawl like a baby too.

Paul sends John a long, thorough letter, begging for them to legally end their partnership outside of a court. John's run out of cards at this point, but he still doesn't want to lose Paul, so he's just going to play dumb.

This is how bad he doesn't want to lose him, actually: he goes along with Klein in tricking Paul this time. Calls him up and asks him to come to the studio for a jam session, because it'll hurt his case in court. But for multiple reasons – the Eastmans were knowledgeable lawyers, and Paul might not have even wanted to be in a room with John at the time anyway – Paul doesn't come. Which John would've been hurt and angry over, no matter his motives.

"They tell you to stop crying at about age twelve. Be a man. What the hell's that?" I'm so proud of John for his (albeit long and backsliding) journey out of his toxic masculinity and violence. Something I honestly don't see him achieving without Yoko.

And from that quote it transitions to Paul in Scotland, looking like the embodiment of depression, as the opening of “Isolation” plays. It's perfect.

“And don't try to come over here. Or you might get in some trouble.” The way he just froze when he saw them filming him and then the next thing we see is him threatening them? Get ‘em, babe!

John sounds so giddy about this one-upping competition with Paul. I'll scare him and then he'll scare me!

The whole Lennon Remembers era is such a terrible case of diarrhea of the mouth in general, but the amount of homophobic language is quite striking compared to how John talked before and after.

John, talking about George in Rolling Stone: "he was working with two fucking brilliant songwriters and he learned a lot from us." People read that quote and just parrot it like they do with everything John said in this period and act like George had nothing to be angry over. He had every right to be much angrier and hold a much bigger grudge than he did.

And about George's new record, which was phenomenal and brilliant, John is transparently jealous and so cruel. If he'd said that about me and then asked me to play on his new record I'd tell him to go to hell. Why did George do it?

See and everyone who knows John knows how much he loved Brian and to hear him speaking so crassly and cruelly about Brian must've been a sure indication to them to just take the entire interview through that lense of “oh he's just saying shit”. But that's only the people who knew him. Everyone else for the rest of time took this shit as constitutional. And it pisses me off. It should be locked away in a vault somewhere and no one is allowed to listen to it until they've passed some kind of Beatles and emotional intelligence tests.

This crushes my soul. How warped must his definition of love have been by that point that he genuinely believed Phil Spector and Allen Klein loved him more than Paul and George did? It's bonkers.

John in 1967: all you need is love! John in 1971: the point of life is to manipulate people. . . . What the hell happened to you, buddy?

I go back and forth as to who's the smarter PR person: John or Yoko? Because maybe she's right. Maybe they shouldn't divulge that they're master manipulators. But is this one of those times when it's good to be all “look how honest we are about this! We're not hiding anything! We're saying bad things about ourselves too! So you should believe us about everything else!”

Really this documentarian should be hired to make all the music videos for all the Beatles and solo songs. This one for “Too Many People” is perfect. Paul walking into court with a full beard and a confident stride, John and Yoko in bed, Paul horse riding overlayed on Linda's gorgeous face like she's some goddess, designing his fate. All of it is just pure brilliance.

I'm forever laughing at just the title of the song, too. Because to John and Yoko it was so important that they were Weird and Off-putting. Different. Revolutionary. And to say “no. You're not special. There's actually an excess of people like you.” Is so funny to me.

“When she wants an A side, that's when we start fighting.” Oh gosh. Remember how I said he backslides a lot in his feminism journey? Yeah…

Insanity quote Hall of Fame. Yeah, I know he meant to say it's weird to be best friends with a woman. But it sounds like he's saying it's weird to fuck a woman. Which maybe he subconsciously means both idk.

Paul: we need to legally dissolve the partnership because it's the only way we're attached anymore. Ouch. Okay it's true. It's deserved. But that must've stung for the guy who was terrified of losing people. Must've sent him into fight or flight.

I think the point of this framing is to say that if they'd had facetime back then, instead of just crackly phone lines, HDYS would not have been written. Not with those puppy eyes staring him down like that.

Interviewer: the song wasn't even funny though. John: well I think it's hilarious. Interviewer: hmm. Lol I love hearing interviewers talk to John about his lyrics like he's a real guy doing a real job, though. Imagine a music critic now saying John Lennon wasn't clever in his lyrics. You can't, yeah. Me either.

What a slap in the face to Cynthia. Guess she wasn't Cool Girl enough. Should've gone girled him. That would be an excellent fic. Cyn and Jane gone girl their idiot bfs and John and Paul realize they're in love on death row. But anyway, yeah. If Paul would've just pet John's head . . .

Another absolutely bonkers thing to say. That's something the Rockstar’s ex wife says in a documentary ten years after he's dead, not something a songwriting partner says, completely unprompted, in an exiting the band interview.

And then he goes off on what I see as a self-soothing diatribe on Paul the family man. You can see the hoops he jumped through to get himself there. What did Paul want that I couldn't give him? A family. And is that justified? Absolutely not, only pussies and conservatives want families.

Allan Klein: were you and Paul ever really close, then? John: no. John: not that I didn't love him. I did. It's just that every time I let my guard down, he hurt me. Holy shit. At this point, after getting hit in the face with so much of John's Paul-made pain with nothing from the other side but pictures of the happy McCartney family, I'm genuinely feeling quite angry at Paul. Me. An extremely biased Paul girl who knows it's far more complicated and multi-dimensional than this. No wonder the uninformed public fucking hated his guts.

And as they're showing this quote, “I didn't want to hurt you,” plays mournfully in the background. They really are so twisted up in each other there's no separating individual identities.

Okay so he's a psychopath. So what? He's the sexiest man that ever was or ever will be. He's allowed to be a horrible person. No, but really. He's Get Back Paul but healthier. He's done with his depression drinking and he's been spending a lot of time proving he's still useful enough to exist by building fences and shearing sheep.

And this is how Paul talks about George to interviews. John said Klein made ATMP a success but Paul disagrees. "George recorded it all, wrote it all, did it all, wasn't anything to do with [Klein]. It was George's victory, wasn't it?" Compare that to how John does it and tell me again why the hell George is Team John?

What is Paul's obsession with daddies? Actually I know exactly what the obsession with daddies comes from, but we won't get into that here. I do find it interesting that in ‘69 he's saying “we do need a sort of central daddy figure.” And in ‘71 he's deriding John needing one and won't let John's daddy of choice touch him with a hundred foot pole.

I tend to think Paul chafes against authority in general, but that's actually not right. He never had a problem with George Martin. I think it's just abusive authority or authority he doesn't trust yet.

[rainy-writers]

When are y’all gonna get it through your heads that no one actually cared if the Velaryon boys were bastards or not? They could have come out with white hair, violet eyes, the whole shebang and the rumor still would have been spread because it was meant to undermine RHAENYRA and her claim, nothing else!!

It was a misogynistic attempt to paint her as reckless and irresponsible and another way for the greens to push for Aegon. It was fear mongering, meant to say “Hey! Choose Aegon because you guys don’t want a bastard on the throne, right?” And it didn’t fucking work, save for on the idiot audience that still eats this shit up and genuinely believes that the dance happened bc Harwin and Rhaenyra weren’t married, rather than realizing the whole theme is MISOGYNY!! ITS ABOUT USURPING A WOMAN NO MATTER WHAT SHE DOES, SOLEY BC SHES A WOMAN AND NOTHING ELSE!!

If she had no kids = Vote for Aegon cause she’s barren!!

If she had kids = Vote for Aegon cause they’re bastards!!

If she has kids that look exactly like her = Vote for Aegon bc her kids are clearly Daemon’s bastards am I right? Vote Aegon bc he’s clearly the more responsible of the two with his trueborn kids!!

It. Does. Not. Matter.

And it makes me so mad, especially when people say that the realm wouldn’t have accepted Jace like DUDE. Nobody is just casually going around saying these kids are bastards, save for the people that KNOW they can get away with it if they’re caught bc Viserys wouldn’t dare punish them. Aka:

Alicent, Otto, and her nightmare kids. That’s it. No, some random Lord in the Reach wasn’t preaching about Jace, Luke, and Joff being bastards. I sincerely hate to burst your bubble (NOT!) but you guys as an audience care more than the actual people that live in this world and it’s so funny.

Basic media literacy will tell you that NO, Westeros did not care. How do I know? Well it’s simple really. If they cared then majority of them simply wouldn’t pledge to support Rhaenyra, clearly knowing that Jace is her heir??

I mean, these are all of the houses that supported Rhaenyra AND Jace:

I mean do yall honestly think Cregan Stark thought Jace was a bastard when he swore an oath in BLOOD with Jace, marched PERSONALLY to the south AFTER Jace was dead, and tried to literally kill the CHILDREN of the Lord’s who rose up against him and Rhaenyra?

Do you think Lady Jeyne gaf when she personally pledged to support him? Lord Manderly? Hm.

No, they didn’t lmao.

So please, kill this narrative that “There was going to be rebellion if Jace ascended the throne” and “The realm wouldn’t accept him bc all of them secretly knew he was a bastard despite having no proof because his father, his grandfather and THEIR KING never said otherwise.”

It would not have happened y’all. And one day you blood purist, Velaryon boys haters are going to get it through your head that YES !! They were legitimate because no one ever said otherwise. It was never proven. Rumor isn’t proof. Hair isn’t proof for fucks sake. You need actual words from Laenor himself saying that RHAENYRA cheated and those boys are Harwin’s. You need Corlys passing over Luke for Driftmark and outright saying it’s because he’s a bastard to even get a SHREAD of doubt from the great houses.

One day you guys are going to realize that those boys were loved and no matter how much you try and discredit them, they will always be legitimate. Whether you like it or not, Viserys was content with Jace being on the throne after him, THE REALM was content, and Corlys Velaryon was ready to die peacefully knowing Luke was going to be after him. Hell, he damn near handed that boy the keys so don’t you dare say Luke didn’t deserve to inherit anything.

And sorry for the long post but some of yall are really starting to piss me off. Never mind that this is fiction, your attitude towards these boys is disguising and saying that they don’t deserve a good life, that they dont deserve things that were literally GIVEN to them with no complaints, and even going as far as to call them dirty or saying they deserve to die all because their mommy and daddy weren’t married is fucking disgusting.

This “bastards don’t deserve anything,” attitude needs to stop being preached by real life people. Hell, some of the people saying this are literally in the wedding photos of their own parents wedding LMAO. It concerns me on how much disregard you guys have for adopted kids (which is basically what they are to Laenor), and I’d hate to see the shit you preach in real life. Acting like blood actually matters in order for someone to be considered family.

Because regardless of what you believe, had their mother not been usurped because she was a WOMAN, Jace would have ruled, Luke would’ve gotten Driftmark and, yes, the world of Westeros would’ve kept fucking spinning.

By law these boys were legitimate and people seem to forget they came out of Rhaenyra’s coochie so REGARDLESS, they are Targaryen. Like unless Viserys or Daemon was their father, they were always going to be half NOT Targaryen lol…Just like Alicent’s kids. It just so happens that they’re half Strong, but again, it doesn’t matter, because Jace gets his claim from RHAENYRA, not his father, so even if Harwin was married to Rhaenyra he still would’ve been the heir?? Even if it wasn’t Laenor who was his father, he’d still be heir because of his mother and being married to someone does not change that.

Some people even go as far as to argue that they’re not Targaryen so Jace shouldn’t be the heir which is stupidest thing I’ve ever heard and the most blatant case of misogyny ever. Like unless your father cloned himself then you STILL get half your genes from your mother dumbass. They are as much Targaryen as the Hightower kids with their DARK HARIED PARENT, it just so happens that their Targ side is from a woman, not a man. Which, like I said, if you don’t consider them Targaryen just bc they don’t get their claim from their father then we know what you are. 🙃

But anyways, to make a long post short, yes these boys are legitimate, they were recognized as such by:

The King himself (who they’d be inheriting from)

Rhaenyra

Laenor (their father, who they’d be inheriting from and wanted Luke to have Driftmark)

Corlys (their grandfather, who Luke would be inheriting from and wanted Luke to have Driftmark)

Rhaenys

The Realm

History

And if you still don’t believe me, here’s the official Targaryen family tree from Fire and Blood which all of Westeros sees :)

You see how they’re listed as Velaryon? You see how they’re directly linked to Laenor and there’s no little astric saying how they’re bastards? Yeah me too.

PS - Read Fire and Blood as well. This whole argument about them being bastards is literally stemmed from no more than two paragraphs, IF that. And their legitimacy is never brought up again.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi!! I absolutely love your fanfics. I was wondering if you could do a Gideon (Gordon) x reader fic that’s kinda angsty to fluff? Maybe the reader and him were close, but he ended up leaving because of how successful G-Man studios was. Then, when Matthew humbled him, he realized that he never should have left?

Awh thank you! For this one, Reader is just replacing Julia more or less

..............

"Are you okay? That looked pretty rough.."

Blinking in surprise, Gordon gazed up at you for a brief moment, seeing the look of concern written all over your face. Yet he didn't have the courage to say anything, as he just sniffled and shook his head, trying to bite back tears.

He thought you were going to make fun of him..just like the rest of this stupid school did after he tried asking out one of the popular girls.

Finally, he had gotten such a burst of confidence, thinking his "fearless" nature was going to score him a date.

But that was all gone now.

He made a damn fool out of himself in front of everyone.

"I think this is yours, Gordon."

Looking back at you, he was shocked to see you kneeling down, the book dusted off and being handed over to him. He quickly snatched it back, cradling it to his chest. "Th-Thanks.." He mumbled. "I'm surprised you even know who I am in all honesty.."

"Well, we do share classes." You mentioned, smiling a little as you both stood up. "You know, they can laugh all they want. But I bet none of those jerks would have the balls to ask her out like you did. I'd say you're truly living up to the "fearless" title."

He was frozen in-place, unsure of what to say as you alluded to his shirt, which he bashfully covered with his oversized coat. When you footsteps walked past him, however, he spun around and saw you going to your locker.

He stumbled after you. "W-Wait!"

"Yeah?"

"You know my name, but I'm afraid yours has slipped by me. What was it again?"

"[Y/n]."

"[Y/n]...well..thank you for the kind words, [y/n]. I wish more people in this stupid school were like you." He tried mustering a smile, although at the moment he seemed self-conscious about his braces. "Would you...l-like to come by my place to study for that test we have tomorrow?"

"...damn it's tomorrow? I was working on a whole flash card set but I kinda fell behind and-"

"Oh I have my own set, too! Maybe we can exchange them and quiz each other!"

"Sounds good." You chuckled, entering your lock combination to grab your notebook. Once you shut the door, you glanced at him, smiling. "I'll catch you after school then, G-Man."

Gordon blinked, jaw-dropped in disbelief as you walked away from him. He just stood there, watching you vanish into the crowd of students on their way to their next class.

A few people whispered and giggled at the way he was staring at you, some even calling him a weirdo or creep.

But this time, he didn't pay them any mind.

You just gave him the coolest nickname ever.

G-Man..

.

.

.

.

"Wait, the G-Man Empire has fallen, you said?"

"Yeah! Don't you ever watch the news? Apparently Matthew Patel is the new CEO!"

"...hah, I figured karma was gonna catch up to that son of a bitch sooner or later."

"Woah, [y/n]..that's kinda harsh. Didn't you go out with that guy and start on it together? I thought you'd be pissed off about it."

"Why would I be pissed off? He pushed me aside when it got successful and claimed he didn't have "time" for a relationship anymore. And it made me think "well shit, maybe it was never a real one to begin with...maybe he saw us as business partners and nothing more"."

"...damn, I didn't know all of that. My bad."

"No, it's..." Pausing, you held the phone away from your ear for a moment, taking a deep breath before you could get too upset. "Look, I'm over it. I'm not glazing over everything I might've done wrong..it was all him. He turned into a rich douchebag."

"Right, and now he's a broke douchebag." Your friend laughed. "Anyways, if I see him on the streets..I'll deck him in the face for ya, alright?"

"Thanks. Maybe I'll do that, too, if I happen to see him.." You joked as well, already feeling a bit better after ending the conversation, hanging up the phone.

With a small sigh, you turned back to the TV and put on some anime episode, relaxing as you focused more on the show and less on the rainstorm outside...

And Gideon.

But unfortunately for you, a name like that was hard to forget.

Especially as you once knew him as that aloof yet sweet nerd who used to hang out with you after school and on the weekends. Most of your days were spent either studying or watching anime while he explained every bit of lore under the sun.

Sure, highschool had its cringy moments, but other times it was great.

Gid--Gordon made up the best parts of it.

He was the first person you ever saw the Sparks(tm) with.

You two were close, graduating and going into college together, and ultimately helping him form the G-Man business from the ground up. He was inspired by that cool nickname you've given him in highschool, assuring you that you deserved all the credit.

At some point, however, he suddenly changed his name..apparently because he felt like "Gordon Goose" was dead to him.

You agreed that being addressed as "Mr. Goose" was one way to ensure he's never taken seriously, so you accepted his name-change to Gideon.

Then...even more about him began to change.

And soon you barely recognized the man you fell in love with.

As soon as he discovered something called "The Glow", his wealth skyrocketed, but he refused to let you in on what this little secret of his was. And he barely gave you his fair share of the earnings anymore.

It wasn't long before you got shoved aside, and he stayed up on his high horse alongside all the other millionaires and billionaires while you worked at your drastically lower-leveled job that was connected to his business empire.

Yep. His empire.

Not yours and his.

He didn't speak to you again unless it was through some random agent.

You were livid for the way he just left you in the dust, and right as you thought you couldn't hate him even more...

He went out with Ramona Flowers, got broken up with, and formed some bizarre group that apparently included her six other "evil" exes.

Oh, how furious you were.

Not at her, though. You felt terrible after she told you about how controlling he was, but it made you wish that you had a time machine so you could go back and warn her NOT to date that prick.

Or better yet..go back and stop him from turning into a prick.

Now according to your friend, Matthew Patel--Ramona's first ex--won the rights to all of Gideon's properties after a tough fight. But oddly enough nobody knew of his current whereabouts.

They emphasized the point that he was kicked out and not killed..

That made you wonder where he is and if he's-

'Wait..why do I suddenly feel sorry for him?' You blinked, before shaking your head and deciding to pause the episode, realizing you weren't even focusing on the story anymore.

Only that jerk.

Okay, so maybe a small part of you did miss him..and hoped that Gordon would come back. But you had a feeling things won't ever change nor return to what they used to be..

Deciding to clear your thoughts, you threw on your coat and opened the front door, stepping out onto your porch. You didn't go any further, as you simply wanted to take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the rain.

Of course it was windy, too, making the air feel chillier than it actually was.

Through the downpour, however, you could make out a figure that was seemingly limping down the sidewalk.

They were barely lit by the streetlamps, but your heart sunk into your stomach the moment you realized who that was exactly..

"G....Gideon..?"

Sure enough, it was him.

Gideon Graves. The rich asshole who now looked as though he was dragged through the mud several times in a row..completely disheveled with bruises on his face and tears in his usually pristine clothes.

Not to mention he seemed utterly defeated.

Upon hearing his name, he stopped and looked over, stunned to see that you were still living on this same street. "[Y/n].."

You scowled, the words you've exchanged with your friend from earlier coming back into your mind. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"Please..don't remind me.." He rasped, his voice sounding so broken and tired.

"I think I will, actually. Now you know how I felt when you kicked me to the curb."

"...I'll admit it..that was a stupid thing for me to do. And I'm sorry.."

Blinking, you were surprised by his sudden apology. But your guard remained up, as you just huffed. "What? Just because you lost your big empire..you finally decide to grovel at my doorstep in the cold rain and apologize? Where was this last year? Two years ago?"

"........"

You sighed. As much as you despised seeing how sad and pathetic he was acting...it did tug on your heartstrings a little bit. You were starting to catch glimpses of that sweet kid you once knew..

"Gordon?"

He perked up. "Yes?"

"...I see. You haven't entirely killed your old self, then.." You quietly mused.

"You were right, [y/n]. I..I-I never should have left you." He took off his glasses as he sniffled and put them in his pocket, shivering. "I don't have any right coming here, but..I used the last of my money to catch a bus. Just to see the one person I still care about...and...hopefully cares for me, too.."

You blinked. "You...still care about me?"

"I know it didn't seem like it, but...I never stopped.." He mumbled. "I got greedy, ambitious...and lost sight of who really loved me. Now I'm back to where I was before.."

"And that is...?"

"..being a loser.." He was even quieter this time around. So much so, you barely heard him at all...although you knew what he said exactly.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I said...I'm back to being a loser."

You smirked. "One more time?"

"I said I'm a LOSER!!" Gordon snapped, tears finally streaking down his sunken cheeks as he scowled at you. His shout was hoarse, yet pained at the same time. "I-I'm a loser, okay?! A loser who doesn't deserve to grovel at your doorstep like this. A loser who should just lay down and die-''

Then he heard your small laughter and stopped his pity party, sniffling as he stared at you. "Wh-What's so funny?"

"You are a real loser for leaving me...but I'm just as much of a loser for wanting to let you back into my life.." Sighing, you shook your head before you grabbed the umbrella beside your door, opening it and heading down the steps.

He stared at you, now seeing that you two were standing under the umbrella together, totally sheltered from the rain.

Why were you doing this?

You looked at him. "You know, I thought about decking you in the face earlier..but I'll take you admitting you're in the wrong any day. Now let's get out of this rain."

A small whimper left his lips as he shuddered, practically clinging to you while you wrapped an arm around him, leading him back into your house.

In that moment, sparks flew, and Gordon realized he was finally seeing them at their strongest.

[heartnanase]

in the rain

gojo angst

“i just don’t understand!” gojo tried to speak over the rain soaking their hair and shirts. “i don’t understand why you left me? why you left everyone? things were going so well, no? we were great friends so why?” lately you cant cant even recognize yourself, since when did you ever become such a bad person? you just stared at him, forcing yourself to look at his desperate face and maybe it’ll help you change to be a better person. thanks to the heavy rain he couldn’t tell you were tearing up. if you never relapsed, you would’ve never left him. being vulnerable was your biggest fear especially with someone who claims they care about you, what if it’s too much for him and he changes his mind? “then don’t try to fucking understand. just go home.” he scoffs as you try to get him to go home.

you can only look away, it’s not like you wanted to push him away, this wasn’t even your first time doing this to him. you’re always on and off, and that’s when you realized you weren’t mentally stable enough to confess to him, let alone stay his friend if all you do is hurt him. ever since you claimed you weren’t enough to be his friend, you didn’t feel enough to be friends with anyone else. you became completely alone. this is your first conversation in years and it surprises you that he is still persistent in an answer. “but i want to understand!.” gojo tried to grab for your hand but you slowly pulled away even if you wanted to beg him to hold on forever. it felt like you were swallowing all your sobs, was it ever this hard to try and stay away from someone you love?

“i’m not like you okay? i can’t keep my feelings in a bottle when i’m near you. if i confess, i’ll be forced to stay in the friend zone and in several years it’ll be an inside joke.” you turned around to walk away but suddenly he grabbed your hand. “you…?” he pauses as he gathers his thoughts, answering all his unanswered questions in his head. “wait why didn’t you say something i loved you back then.. i mean.. i still do..“ you harshly closed your hands into a fist and dug your nails in your palms almost drawing out blood. it pisses you off, that he thought it was that easy. “well i was never ready for a relationship i’m not stable enough and.. being away from you is the only way i could keep myself from telling you i loved you.”

“that’s not for you to decide! i could’ve helped you get better! why do you keep pushing me away!” you stared at his shoes, wishing the heavy rain would wash away everything he’s heard, was it selfish to confess? you gulped as thought of ways to help him go away. you managed to look up at him. “then what? you think you can help me? a bad person like me? i hurt people and i manipulate people. and i use them for my own personal gain and get rid of them as soon as i’m done. maybe.. maybe you were just… just a distraction.” it’s not like anything you said was a lie, you did turn into a bad person and used gojo as an distraction but.. then you accidentally fell in-love with him. but he didn’t want to believe your words, he noticed your tear stained eyes. or maybe he was just being delusional he thought. “you.. you don’t mean that right?” you glared coldly, not on purpose. but your eyes just felt too heavy to keep them open normally.

“you meant nothing to me gojo.”

[delphi-shield]

Variations on a Theme

Claire Redfield x Leon Kennedy wc: ~2.6k post-vendetta, pre-death island. short fic that wouldnt leave me alone so i had to write it down. might write a continuation. happy sept. 30th, i miss my babies. dividers from @/adornedwithlight

summary: Sherry organizes a memorial service; Claire and Leon try to put aside their grief to mourn the way she does.

The call comes through at 11 PM the night before. Leon ignores most calls to his personal cell after nine, but for Claire, he makes an exception.

She never calls without purpose. Not anymore. There had been nights in the past when it had been anything and everything and the nothing in between that had kept them up until early hours of the morning. Calls crammed between operations and meetings, voicemails that still haunted his inbox. They had been better at this once.

The small talk hadn't been so stilted and forced like it was now. No ‘hey, I saw that report on Bali - was that you?’ because Claire would have known. He would have told her everything – or mostly everything. Leon would have redacted the parts that could get her into trouble. He'd leave out hostage scenarios gone wrong, spare her the inequity of his work even though she's sure to find out on her own.

Somewhere along the way, he'd started redacting so many details that his recountings had boiled down to ‘I'm glad to be back’. Somewhere along the way, Claire had stopped pressing for more.

Claire doesn't bother feigning interest in his last operation this time. She doesn't need to - TerraSave already put out a statement condemning the outcome.

She's good at small talk, always has been better at people than him. Conversation flows from her, connections come easy. He'd always admired that about her. Now, though, she's floundering. His short, to the point answers have her at a loss. That's new. Usually it just pisses her off.

“What’s going on, Claire?” he asks for the second time in their short conversation.

She lapses into silence. Redfield family trait - they love to go quiet on you when they've been found out. Like they're waiting for you to move on - like you'll forget if they just don't acknowledge it.

“Sherry's organized this memorial service,”  Claire finally broaches. “For - y'know. I think it would mean a lot to her if you were there.”

Dread weighs heavy in his stomach. Of course he knows. He's been dreading this kind of thing since Terragrigia, since the gritty details of bioterrorism had been shoved in the average American's home. It's not hard to put two and two together, to realize what the Raccoon City incident had been. Maybe the public would never know the full extent, the involvement of the government, but there's footage of a hunter on LiveLeak, for fuck's sake. You could cover this shit up in the 90's, but they hadn't been on top of things when the century had turned, when more information than ever had been pumped to the general populace. Now it was like sticking a bandaid on a hemorrhaging wound.

He didn't think it would be one of their own who did this, who dredged up Raccoon City's bloated corpse and put it on display. He thought some well-meaning intern, some politician looking for a bump in numbers, trying to seem empathetic might pull this stunt – but one of their own?

He can't tell if it's a dim sense of betrayal that's twisting his gut into knots or if it's anger. He's carefully curated his life to avoid this. The month of September is his memorial. He doesn't need the cameras, the spotlight - he doesn't need other people sobbing out their grief right next to him, not when he keeps his tight to his chest.

Jesus. Sherry couldn't have asked him herself? Not in person, God no – but sent him a calendar invite or emailed him a flier - something that would give him plausible deniability. Something he could ignore, slide into the recycle bin, claim he never received and curse technology. Sorry, Sherry. All this new technology is just tough for me to keep up with. As if he's not got the latest and greatest in hand at all times.

“Are you going?”

Claire is quiet on the other end of the line.

“It would mean a lot to her.”

Leon snorts. “That's a ‘no’.”

Claire's huff is almost lost through the phone, but he can picture her pout well enough. Lord knows he's the cause more often than not.

It's not just that he hates this kind of thing, or that he's still hot off the heels of Benson's death, that the media could have a field day with him showing up to an event like this. If the wrong people hear about this, they'll all be lambasted as nutjob conspiracy theorists. If the wrong people have found out about this, it could get dangerous fast.

Leon does the only thing he can think to. Deflect.

“She shouldn't be doing this shit,” Leon points out. “Raccoon City is still classified.”

He can feel Claire roll her eyes from the other side of the phone. He bites his tongue. Improvement, he thinks. A month ago he would have cut loose, blown this whole conversation up.

“She's not releasing classified info, Leon. It's a memorial.”

“Brass is gonna have a problem with this, and I don't know if I can bail her out.”

“She got it cleared months ago. You'd know if–” Claire stops herself. She's trying, too, he realizes when she swerves around the giant crater that was the way he'd spent a year drinking himself into oblivion. “You’d know if you actually checked your email.”

Damn. She's got him there. Maybe Sherry already tried the calendar invite and the flier. In his mind's eye, she's still 12 years old, ruddy cheeked and gap toothed - clicking clumsily around a computer to make a flier, sending it to him, waiting–

He stops that train of thought, pins the ache in his chest on a recently cracked rib.

“Nobody asks Valentine to go to this shit.”

“Jill's busy.”

“And I'm not?”

“Can you just show up for Sherry?”

“Can't we just take her out for ice cream after or something?”

“She's not–” 

Claire pauses on the other end of the line. Leon's not as good at this as he used to be, can't tell if she stopped herself so she doesn't laugh or so she doesn't snap at him.

Inhale. Shaky exhale. He can hear her struggling not to smile.

“She's not a kid anymore.”

He knows that. Of course he knows that. He's seen her in the field. She’s a powerhouse, full-grown and owning it.

Man up, Kennedy, he thinks. Do it for your girls.

The thought sends a jolt skittering across his skin, raises the hair on his arms. He hasn't thought of them like that in years - not sober, at least.

“I'm not sitting on the stage,” he says firmly.

“Me either.”

“And I’m not giving a speech.”

“I don't think it's a media thing,” Claire says, the way one might try to calm a spooked horse. “She just wanted to do something for people like us. It's gonna be low-key.”

Claire has a very different definition of ‘low-key’ than he does, but he hums all the same.

“All right,” he relents. “Send me the details.”

It doesn't take more than a few seconds for his phone to vibrate. She was ready for that, probably planned on sending it to him whether he said yes or no.

She sounds cheerful, reveling in her victory, when she winds up the call with the promise to see him next week. He can count the times Claire has been happy to see him lately on one hand; when he tosses his phone back to his nightstand, he counts that as a win.

The week flies by as if September 30th couldn't get there quick enough. Usually, the week of the 30th dragged - every hour of every day dedicated to a remembrance of the last normal hours of his life. Mourning is on hold for now - he’s saving it all up for Sherry's big event.

Claire texts him a reminder two days before. He types and retypes a response over and over, and somewhere in the revisions he realizes it's not just about him. She doesn't want to do this either. Not alone.

See you there. Ice cream after.

Leon’s locked in now. He prays for work to run long, for an emergency to crop up that sends him across the country - but the office is quiet. He's grateful not to run into Sherry, grateful that he won't have the chance to open his mouth and ruin things. There will plenty of time for that later.

You promised, he tells himself the morning of, phone in hand, debating on calling in sick. His feet are leaden when he dresses, hands heavy at the wheel of his car. He's in a daze the whole day, barely remembers driving to work. If anyone notices, they don't call him on it. He’s ghosting through another September unseen.

But the end of the day forces him back into his body. He'll be late if he sits in his car any longer. The engine turns over despite his prayers. He promised, he tells himself. He can't make them do this alone.

The park Sherry picked out for the memorial service is close to the office. He could walk, but he's not going to limit his options in case things go south, wants the ability to get in his car and bail. Halfway there, he realizes he's been followed. He stays in his car, watching the suburban in the rearview when they pull in a few spots down. Leon only relaxes when a gaggle of kids burst from the sliding door, run off ahead of their mother.

Claire's waiting for him when he hops out. She leans against her bike. Her hair is down - shorter than he remembers. Her thick jacket thrown over the seat of her bike, leaving her in a black turtleneck and a pair of orange corduroys.

“You know it's not formal, right?”

“I'm coming from work. Cut me some slack.”

Claire laughs, ducking her head. She pushes off of her bike and waves for him to follow. She swishes into the park ahead of him, her steps only faltering until he catches up to her side with a handful of long strides. Side by side like this, there’s enough room to slot Sherry in between them. Wherever she is - probably off playing party planner.

He always thought she’d be good at that. Sherry’s good at making sure people are taken care of, making sure they have what they need. She’s got a quiet sort of intensity that can spook people, sure, but she’s fun and exuberant - she could have had a shot at a real life, if things had been different.

She reserved a little gazebo for the event. White chairs in a handful of neat lines, a little charcoal grill off to the side, picnic table lined with candles and framed photos. It’s sweet, the way she’s done everything up. Probably put hours into this, getting things just so. She’s done a good job, honest.

Leon just can't stop checking every angle. He's braced for the sight of a flash - camera or muzzle, he's not sure which would be worse. Couldn't Sherry have picked somewhere more private? Couldn't she have rented out the basement of some bar, given him an excuse not to show? Sorry, Sherry, I'm working on myself - can't put myself through the temptation.

No. Of course not. She'd probably considered that already. The kid is too considerate for her own good. Rented out a gazebo just so no one had to face their demons.

Claire pauses at a row of chairs, gesturing for Leon to sit. He forgets to smile when he tears his eyes away from a suspicious copse of bushes. His hand ghosts against the small of her back, urging her to go first. He needs to be on the end, needs to be able to get to his feet quick when something happens.

If, he reminds himself. If something happens.

Claire slips into her seat without protest. Maybe the occasion has her feeling off, too. He tries not to read into it.

Leon lets out a low whistle as he sinks into his chair. “There's more people than I thought there'd be.”

“I know,” Claire hums. “Sometimes it feels like we're the only ones.”

How many people had been there? How many had been on the streets, had escaped by the skin of their teeth? How many of these people were here to mourn someone who had wasted away before their time?

His eyes lock onto hands and mouths, tries to match them to ones he sees in his dreams. Teeth snapping, hands teasing at him, pulling him under a writhing mass of rot, ichor spilling into his mouth, choking him.

Claire nudges him, leans closer. Her shampoo wafts across him, the stench of decades old decay that stings his eyes soothed by cherries. Her fingers light on his wrist.

“Still doing ice cream after? I know a place.”

If they were here for anyone else, he'd have grabbed Claire's hand and pulled her out to the parking lot. They'd cut the shit, go get ice cream and pretend things weren't complicated. He'd get butter pecan and Claire would tease him for being basic. Ice cream is a fifteen minute treat, but they'd linger until the parlor closed, until the workers were shooting them dirty looks.

But they're here for Sherry. Leon makes himself smile, mouth thinning.

“Yeah. After.”

People file in, some alone, the same haunted look that he wears well, others with whole families. There's maybe thirty people - small number on paper, but packed in like this makes it feel claustrophobic. He scans the crowd for Sherry again and again, searching for a glimpse of her. Claire’s hand stays on his wrist, heavier now. He wishes he could turn his hand and capture hers. He doesn’t know how to.

“She still comin’?” He murmurs to Claire.

“She better. This is her thing,” she grumbles back. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. He knew she wasn’t all-in on this whole thing.

Before he can call her on it, Sherry beats down the center aisle, clambering up the steps of the gazebo. Leon clicks his tongue, sits a little straighter. There she is, digging Claire out of a moment of weakness once again.

“Thank you all so much for coming,” Sherry starts, shuffling note cards in her hands. 

Claire lets out a coo under her breath. She leans closer, presses against Leon’s arm to whisper, “she’s so nervous. Look.”

Leon doesn’t need to be directed to see the tremble of Sherry’s fingers, but he looks anyway. Public speaking isn’t the issue, he knows that much - it’s got to be the topic.

Leon sits a little taller. He nudges Claire’s knee with his own, a silent ‘watch this’. He coughs into his fist, louder and longer than necessary.

Sherry tracks the sound instinctively. Her eyes light on them in the crowd. The apples of her cheeks bunch up, smile so wide that she's transformed right back into that little girl he knew, that clung to his hand and swung his arm as they walked down the road. Her words trail off, pause long enough to be noticeable but not to be awkward.

“I’m so grateful that each and every one of you have taken the time to come here tonight,” she continues, her eyes lingering on Leon, flitting back to Claire.

There. That’s his good deed for the month.

“You’re buying,” he whispers to Claire once Sherry’s eyes have finally drifted away.

Claire snorts. She pats his arm. He can see it all over her face - yeah, right.

Yeah, right. His girls are gonna burn an ice cream-shaped hole in his wallet by the end of the night.

[anamericangirl]

The Israel vs Palestine conflict is such a long-spanning and insanely complicated thing that there's literally college courses that revolve entirely around the subject. There's people who have been studying it for 70 years who still barely understand it. There's historians with PhDs trying to piece together anything they can that could help them figure out a means to potentially instill a ceasefire or even peace altogether who have failed time and time again for decades if not literally centuries.

And yet people with 7 years of Twitter experience think they know enough about the conflict to pick a side and vouch for the destruction of the opposite side.

The amount of times I want to say "Shut the fuck up you fucking stupid idiot, you know literally nothing about this conflict, you have no idea what's actually happening, I bet if I asked your opinion on the Two State Solution you wouldn't even have a fucking clue what that means" on a daily basis reading these actual braindead moronic 16yo Twitter users' dipshit opinions who keep citing celebrity blue-checkmark Twitter posts as evidence to vouch for the eradication of a middle eastern country they don't even know a fucking thing about is STAGGERING.

I'm in my mid-30s and I stay out of politics on all sides because I am not qualified in any way to form opinions on matters so serious that they may or may not result in people being killed, and it fucking pisses me off that people half my fucking age are telling me that I should support Palestine or Ukraine or vouch for the genocide of Israel or join ANTIFA or BLM or put #FreeTaiwan in my fucking twitter bio.

You actual braindead stupid fucking morons have absolutely no clue what any of these conflicts actually mean, none of them have anything to do with you, go back to bitching about girls in video games being too sexy and shut the fuck up about actual real conflicts because you're a fucking moron if you think you know anything about what you claim you're in support of.

I swear to God if I see one more Twitch player playing Fortnite ranting about the Israel Palestine conflict and telling people that donations during their stream go to Palestine, Ukraine, Taiwan and LGBT activism centers, I'm gonna go feral. It is so unbelievably belittling to people who have spent their entire life researching and educating themselves on these conflicts to be able to build an understanding, that a dipshit who collects loli bestiality porn and plays Metroid Prime on Twitch thinks he's on the same level as those researchers.

PREACH! It's so fucking annoying how everyone suddenly thinks they're experts on this conflict when before October 7, 2023 none of them even knew it was happening and they're just cringey ass brain dead parrots saying what they're supposed to say without doing their due diligence to at least get somewhat informed on the matter before boycotting Starbucks, using hashtags and swapping the Ukraine flag for the Palestine flag and thinking they're doing something.

What really gets to me is when influencers I follow, like apolitical ones who are grown ass adults, jump on the bandwagon and are actually orchestrating fundraisers for Palestine and it makes me so fucking mad because they absolutely have no excuse for that. I just want to scream at them "hey! you know literally every cent you raise is going straight to Hamas and no Palestinian will ever get a single penny!! It's all going to buy weapons to kill Israeli civilians. YOU ARE LITERALLY FUNDING GENOCIDE AND TERRORISM YOU ABSOLUTE BUFFOON!!!" I don't have a shred of respect for people who talk about all the terrible things happening in Gaza but don't have a single word to say about the atrocities Hamas commits daily in Israel. Not one of them has condemned or even mentioned the attack on October 7th. Fuck every single one of them.

[ladyelainehilfur]

saying the ending was bad because Horikoshi didn't pair Ochako and Deku at the end due to being afraid of alienating the fanbase + saying Ochako's entire arc was a waste of time because she never confessed to Deku

beep WRONG try again

Ochako's arc was becoming a successful hero who could save people like Toga and to provide for her family! Her crush on Deku is *one* of her character traits and dare I say, completely separate from her motivations! she's a main character in a shonen, not a shojou!! her non-romantic feats should have as much relevance as her romantic goals.

"she didn't marry deku in the end so the writing is bad" anime bros piss me off so bad sometimes 😐 this shiz is NOT Naruto, marriage for the female lead (who is 15-17 for 99.99% of the series!!) was never on the cards. marriage. pack it up, quickly. If you're not expecting Bakugou or Todoroki or Hatsume or Jirou to get married by the end of the series, why place that expectation on Uraraka? Yes, her admiration of Deku was underlined and circled. But at most, she was going to confess to him or date him. To genuinely expect *marriage*. smh.

To be totally fair, I also believe the romantic pairings were left open-ended so as not to cause chaos, because there would definitely be fans of other ships involving Deku and Ochako that would throw a nasty fit if Dekuchako became canon. I'm no BNHA fandom hater, I'm well aware most fans are chill and the toxic minority give the fandom a bad rep.

But Horikoshi made plenty of conscious decisions when he placed the characters where he did at the end. It would've been so easy for Ochako to tell Deku she loved him when they hugged after the war, because it's clear she does. But there was no confession. It would've been *so* easy to have them hold hands in the flashforward of them walking together in the snow. But they weren't. In the last panel, where they're full-fledged heroes, Deku could've been looking down to her when she looked up at him. But he wasn't. Deku didn't make a special note of seeing Uraraka more than he saw the others, he's not wearing a matching piece of Uravity merch like some are claiming she's wearing his. There was absolutely nothing implying that between the war and their mid-twenties, Deku and Ochako ever became more than friends.

To me, that's Horikoshi letting Ochako be more than a love interest. She went head to head against Bakugou in the sports festival and almost won, she helped save countless lives during her tenure at UA, she managed to befriend and disburden a villain who idolized her, AND she founded a successful nation-wide quirk program. And yet people are complaining that she's a waste of a character and the open-endedness of her romantic relationship with the main character spoiled the series. I think maybe people like that are reading the wrong manga.